Singidunum University

Faculty of Media and Communications

WHAT THE HISTORIANS SAY

—Final exam—

Course: Biopolitics (Foucault)

Professor: Gil Anidjar

Student: Pavle Trajkovski

Index number: 5023/13

Belgrade,

May 2015

The task that we will try to accomplish in this paper is to

describe, in excruciating details, a passage from a book

written by Michel Foucault. It is our intention not to

interpret the single, intended meaning of the text, but to try

to identify all the possible meanings. The purpose is to show

that, by understanding reading as an intensely attention-

demanding endeavor, we can discover a proliferation of meaning

that flourishes beneath what seems obvious.

THE ORDER OF THINGS

The

The title of the book in which we find the passage that is the

object of our attention is “The order of things”. Let us start

there, at the title.

The first thing that demands our attention is the use of the

definite article – the. The definitive article produces a

specifying, particularizing effect. We are certain that the

order is a particular order. The particularizing effect would,

however, have been achieved even if the indefinite article an

was used. Had the title been “An order of things”, we would

have still had the idea that the subject matter is one

particular order. But the indefinite article would not have

excluded the possible existence of other orders of things. The

definite article stresses the singularity of the order. This

is also achieved by the omission of any adjectives before the

noun. This is not the new, old, big or small order. This is

the one and only order. Or is it? The definitive article is

often used to refer to something well-known, although not

necessarily unique. This effect is, of course, only achieved

among a certain population. By saying that the president gave a

press conference, one assumes that their audience has the same

notion of who the president is – most likely the president of

the country they live in. The same goes for referring to the

moon. As inhabitants of Earth, we all assume that the moon is

the one orbiting around our planet, although most of us know

that other planets also have moons. So the order need not

necessarily be the one and only order, but may also just be

the most well-known, most common or dominant one.

Order

The word order can be read and understood in many ways. In the

mathematical jargon, order means scale, degree or magnitude. The

order of things is then referring to the scope and size of

things. This implies that the subject matter is some form of

measuring. Still in connection to the language of numbers,

order can be read as succession, or sequence. In this sense, the

order of things is the disposition of things that follow one

after the other in time or in space. Order is achieved by

labeling things with a number. What comes first has priority

over whatever comes as second. This priority of the first can

be understood not only as a mark of its position before the

second on a time scale or in a spatial sequence, but also as a

quality that makes it more important. The latter understanding

of priority transforms the succession (or order) into a rank –

one defined by hierarchy. In a less specific sense, order can

refer to any particular arrangement, provided that it is

characterized by a certain regularity or orderliness. In such

an arrangement, the things which are in order are relating to

one another according to a certain pattern, a structure. Each

element (everything) is related to every other (provided that

even a non-relation is a specific form of relation) and this

relation is defined by a certain rule or governed by a certain

law. The common usage of the word order in this sense evokes

the notion of governance and, even, authority. Following this

notion of authority, order can be read as command. In this

sense, an order is something that is issued by a source of

authority and is to be followed by all who are under the

authority of said source. Such a reading then brings forward

the question of the source of the order, or the command. By

taking an approach that some may consider naïve, we could

argue that the answer is in the title itself. It is the order

of things. In the Middle Ages, for example, a man could have been

beheaded by order of the King. By the same token, something

could be happening by order of things. In other words, things

are no longer the objects of a certain order (an arrangement,

structure or pattern), but rather a subject that is issuing an

order (a command) by which some other things could be

happening. In this cyclical movement, things give the order by

which things happen. The implications of reading order as

command depend greatly on our understanding of the word things.

Things

One way of reading the word things is as material, inanimate

objects, or what would be referred to as stuff in more informal

speech. However, even after a quick examination, we are faced

with the fact that understanding things or stuff only as objects

is too narrow. People say that they have stuff on their minds,

which elevates the term into the realm of the abstract. In the

same way, thinking about things means a lot more than thinking

about objects. The word things is used to refer to actions and

deeds (a busy person has a lot of things to do), matters or

affairs (things are discussed at a meeting; things are going

well) or any entity or manifestation that cannot be precisely

identified or described (the teenage girl had a thing growing

on her nose; the boy had a thing for the girl; but the girl

had a thing with another boy). In its widest sense, anything

and everything that is, or can become, an object of thought is

called a thing. This gives an idea about the ambitiousness at

play. The title suggests that the book is, in fact, about (the

order of) everything.

Let us, for a moment, go back to order as command. If the

entity that issues this order are things (everything that can

be an object of thought), then it can only be assumed that the

order will be carried out by things, and that will then have

things as consequences. This means that everything is governed

by everything: everything is self-regulated. But if we

understand order in any other of its possible meanings (scale,

degree, magnitude, succession, sequence, rank, hierarchy,

arrangement, pattern, structure, rule, law), then there is no

justification within the title itself to see things as the

source of the order. Things (even in the widest sense) are

objects within the order. In the mind of the curious reader,

the title provokes the question of the origin of the order of

(all) things.

CLASSIFYING

5

We have looked at the title of the book in which we find our

chosen passage. But before we start reading the passage

itself, let us look at a few more things that require our

attention. At about one third down from the top of the page

there is a big number – 5. This is most probably not just a

cardinal number. It seems self-evident that this is the number

of the chapter, the fifth one. The number five in this case

serves as an ordinal number. It is referring to the order of

things i.e. the order of chapters within the book. The size of

the font used to print this number is larger than all other

characters on the page, thus implying the importance of the

division of chapters and especially their particular order.

Classifying

Just underneath the number of the chapter, we find the word

classifying. It is positioned at the center of the width of the

page. The size of the font is larger than all of the rest of

the text on the page, except for the number five above it.

Following the logic that we used for determining the function

of the number five, we can assume that this is the title of

the chapter. This assumption is supported by the position of

the word and the size of the font used. The physical

properties of the title are stressing its importance. It seems

very important to acknowledge that everything that is written

in this new, fifth chapter has to do with classifying. The

title is, just like the number before it, referring to the

order of things – the internal structure and division of the

content of the book. The presence of the order of things is

felt even stronger once we move past the visual

characteristics of the title and start thinking about the

possible meanings of the word classifying. It is a verb that

refers to the act of classification, and it means to arrange,

organize, order things according to classes.

What is, then, a class? The word class can be read in several

ways. It can refer to a certain number of things forming a

group based on common properties or shared qualities.

Classifying is what we call the act of dividing and ordering

things into such classes. It is worth noting that the common

properties of things, which serve as the parameters for

determining their belonging to a certain class, may have a

natural source – the innate qualities of things. In this case,

classifying is nothing more than identifying these qualities

and assigning a name to the naturally existing class. Fish

live in the water and cats live on land, so it is relatively

safe to conclude that they belong to different classes of

animals. It also seems safe to assume that fish and cats would

classify themselves into different classes, provided that they

have a consciousness and awareness of each other’s existence.

At the same time, the parameters for dividing things into

classes, although still stemming from the innate qualities of

things, can also be much more arbitrary. In this case, the

class is created by the entity doing the classifying.

Classifying then becomes the act of creating classes, based on

certain arbitrary parameters, and assigning things to them.

For example, a cook can classify fish based on their taste.

Even though taste is a natural quality of fish, the class

defined by it is superimposed on the fish by the figure of the

cook, and since the experience of taste varies greatly between

different people, this classification seems purely arbitrary.

It can also be the case that fish are classified according to

their price on the market, which is often derived from their

taste. Such a classification would certainly be alien to the

fish, in our hypothetical world where fish are self-conscious.

Classifying is then an unnatural process, one that imposes an

artificial order onto things. In a narrower context, class is

used to describe a social stratum: a group of people that

share certain economic, political or cultural traits, which

relate to their position in society. Classifying would then

equate to the act of dividing people based on their economic,

political and cultural traits, thus determining their position

in society. More often than not, the social order achieved by

such class divisions is hierarchical. Classifying, whether

done from within our outside of the class, thus becomes a very

political act. The word class can also be used to describe a

group of students. With this sense of the root word in mind,

classifying (dividing students in different classes) can again

occur in more and less natural ways. Students can either

classify themselves or be classified by an authority figure in

the educational institution, and the parameters can vary

greatly. In educational practice students have been, and still

are, classified based on interest in a certain subject, age

group, academic performance, spoken language, ethnicity, race,

gender, etc. Without going into further discussion about the

validity, fairness or sense of all of the possible ways to

classify students, we can agree that some of the ways are

comparable to classifying fish according to price. The word

class can also refer to a period of time during a group of

students meet for discussion. It is, however, hard to imagine

how the word classifying could be used with this meaning of the

root word in mind. It is worth noting that in many of the

cases discussed, classifying can be substituted by the word

discriminating and the meaning would remain unaffected. In current

usage, the word discriminating unmistakably invokes negative

political overtones. It is associated with acts of aggression

and injustice. Having this in mind, it can be assumed by

reading the title that the chapter “Classifying” will have to

do with a certain kind of politics. Finally, classifying can be

used to describe the act of limiting the availability of

information to authorized persons. Classified things are

considered a secret and only a selected few have access to

them. This is the sense in which the word is used in the

military, police forces, government and certain corporate

settings. Such an understanding of the title would summon a

more sinister presence of authority over the whole chapter.

WHAT THE HISTORIANS SAY

I

Before the beginning of the paragraph which we will analyze,

we find another artifact that points to the underlying order

of things. It is the inscription “What the historians say”,

preceded by the letter “I”. The font used here is different

and larger than the one used in the main text (even though it

is smaller than the one in the title of the chapter) and all

the letters are capital. The letter I cannot be interpreted as

being a part of the same sentence with the rest of the words.

The sentence “I what the historians say” wouldn’t make any

sense. Furthermore, the absence of a full stop at the end of

the inscription suggests that this is not an actual sentence.

Based on all of this, it can be assumed with relative

certainty that the letter I is, in fact, a Roman numeral, and

that the inscription following it is a title. The numeral I is

marking the first section of the fifth chapter, and the title

of the section is “What the historians say”. Just like in the

case of the title of the chapter, the visual properties of the

title of the section are calling our attention to the title’s

importance: it is important to acknowledge that everything

that follows in this section has to do with what the

historians say. The importance of (writing about) what the

historians say is further stressed by the primacy of this

topic – it is first in order. Since it seems so important, let

us take a closer look at the title of this section.

What

The title of the section is “what the historians say”, not how

or why they say it. The title is announcing that what follows

will be concerned with the content of the historians’ say, and

not with the description of its manifestations or with the

reasons for its coming into being. The historians’ say is

there and the text that follows is only dealing with what it

is.

The historians

Having in mind our previous discussion about the possible

implications of the use of the definitive article, let us

notice that the historians can mean more than one thing. The

historians can mean all of the historians, but following the

examples of the president and the moon, we can argue that the

historians are just the most well-known or dominant ones within a

certain population. In either case, it is this particular

group of people called the historians that are saying something.

So who are the historians? It should be clear by now that we

will be looking at more than one meaning. A historian is what

we call an expert in history. It is referring to a person who

has been recognized as an authority in the scientific filed of

history. The title of this section could then mean “What the

authorities on history say”. It is not unreasonable to assume

that what the experts and authorities on history say is the

most valid, most relevant and accurate account about what

actually happened. However, this is not necessarily the case.

History is a continuous, systematic, chronological narrative or

story about past events. The word story is derived from the same

Latin root as history. Therefore, it is also not unreasonable to

believe that there are discrepancies between what actually

happened and what is portrayed in the historical narrative.

History is no more than a story about past events. Historians

are then expert storytellers, who hold great authority. But

there is also another way to understand the word historian, and

that is chronicler, or a writer of history. The historians are then

no longer mere expert storytellers, but expert storywriters. Such an

understanding has two effects: a further elevation of the

authority of the historians (since they are the ones who

decide what is and what is not history), and a further

increase of the probability of discrepancy between history as it

happened and history as it was written. Interestingly, and some may

say counterintuitively, the increase of authority opens the

space for increased mistrust in it.

Say

The historians say. The verb say is used here in its bare

infinitive form, in the simple present tense. This tense can

be used to describe a repeated action, something that is

usual. The historians say something often, always, sometimes,

every year or every day. But we don’t know which of the

adverbs of frequency apply. All we know is that the historians

say something, repeatedly. This use of the simple present

tense leaves open the possibility that there are times when

the historians don’t say anything. Another way in which the

simple present tense can be used is to express a generalization –

a belief that a fact was true before, is true now, and will be

true in the future. Birds fly, fish swim, historians say. It

is a permanent situation, one that happens continuously. In

this case, the historians always say something. The supposed

permanence of the historians’ act of saying gives rise to the

question of the permanence of what they say. If what the

historians say (in intervals or continuously) stays unchanged,

this could be the basis of a brand new explanation of the

phenomenon of historic recurrence. Since the historians are

both the tellers and writers of history, the reason why history

repeats itself may well be because historians repeat themselves. If, on

the other hand, what the historians say does, in fact, change,

this would mean that history changes. Time passes, things

happen, historians say – history is made. And all of this

happens either every so often or continuously.

THE FIRST SENTENCE

Histories of ideas or of the sciences – by which is meant here an average

cross-section of them –credit the seventeenth century, and especially the

eighteenth, with a new curiosity: the curiosity that caused them, if not to

discover the sciences of life, at least to give them a hitherto unsuspected

scope and precision.

Histories

History is what we call the cumulative sum or the aggregate of

past events. This is history as it happened. Since the passage of

time is a singular linear movement (at least in the minds of

most laypeople), there is only one past and, therefore, one

history. The fact that the word is used here in its plural

form can indicate a few things. This could mean that time has

properties much different to those imagined by the common

human. If there are multiple histories, this means that there are

multiple pasts and, consequently, multiple realities. The use of

the plural form could also mean that the text refers to

history as it is told or as it is written. Histories are then just stories or

narratives about the past. There can be as many stories as there

are storytellers. But relating back to the title of the

section, we can assume that those are not just any

(hi)stories, but the ones told or written by the historians – the

experts on history. This clarification does not in any way

exclude the possibility of the existence of multiple histories

about the same past. Rather, it merely points to the

authoritative nature of the source. Another reason for the use

of the plural histories could be the relation to ideas or sciences.

Since there is more than one idea and more than one science,

there will be more than one history of them. This shift of

focus avoids the dilemma between understanding history as what

happened or what was written. Whichever the case, there will

always be multiple histories of ideas or of the sciences.

Or

It is interesting to notice the conjunction or between ideas and

sciences. This conjunction has both a differentiating and a

somewhat equating function. The histories of ideas and the

histories of the sciences are differentiated and separated by

the conjunction or. At the same time, the function of or is to

show that whatever follows remains true, regardless of which

histories we concentrate on. In other words, we would find the

same things happening, whether we look at the histories of

ideas or those of the sciences. In this case, the histories of

ideas or those of the sciences, even though not necessarily

the same, share some similar features. Let us now look at the

two fields whose histories are the subject matter.

Ideas

The word idea is used to refer to a certain opinion, belief,

conviction or principle. One’s political ideas may help them

become the president, and one’s ideas on the Trinity may leave

them anathematized. With this sense of the word in mind, the

histories of ideas can be understood as the histories of

viewpoints or paradigms. The historians are the ones who have

been appointed (or have taken upon themselves) the task of

writing the history of ideas. It is only based on what they

say that we can relate to the ideas that humanity produced in

the past. But idea can also have another, far more general

meaning. It can designate a notion, concept, thought or any

other thing existing in the conscious mind as a result of

mental activity. In this case, the histories of ideas are the

histories of human consciousness. Such an understanding of the

word idea gives the historians even more power. This gives them

domain over the contents of the human mind. The histories of

conscious life are limited to what the historians say.

The sciences

A very common way of using the word science, especially in the

West, is to refer only to natural science or, even more

specifically, physical science. In this sense, science is the

knowledge of the physical or material world, acquired through

observation and experimentation. The use of the definitive

article supports the intuitive drive to understand sciences in

such a way. The sciences are those well-known, dominant sciences,

the ones whose scientific status is non-contestable. In a

somewhat broader sense, science can incorporate in its meaning

any system of knowledge that has been acquired through the

usage of the scientific method. This understanding of the word

incorporates more of the branches of science into its scope,

including social science, formal science and the sciences of

Earth and Space. In an even broader sense, science is used to

designate any body of knowledge that is systematically

organized according to certain rules and laws. Such an

understanding includes, for example, the study of computers or

sports under the umbrella of science. In all of those cases, one

thing is very evident. That is the presence of the order of

things. The sciences, no matter how we understand them, are

subject to certain rules, laws, methods, systems; they are a

part of a certain order and can be classified in a certain

way. And it is only through what the historians say that we

can come to know the history of the sciences.

—The cut—

Moving further into the sentence, we witness a very

interesting intervention. Namely, the sentence is interrupted

by two spaced en-dashes (often used in contemporary typography

in a way that substitutes the use of an en-dash) between which

we read “by which is meant here an average cross-section of

them”. By means of this interruption, the text transcends

itself and becomes a sort of metatext, referring back to

itself. The use of the passive voice in the construction is

meant is interesting to note. The author of the text tried to

stay invisible by not saying “I mean”. Furthermore, the author

did not point out by whom it is meant. Leaving out the subject

gives the impression that the text itself is the subject

having the intention of meaning, or at least that the

intention of meaning has no source – it has always been there.

So we are presented with this untraceable statement of

intended meaning – that of an average cross-section. Of what,

though? Looking at the beginning of the sentence, it remains

unclear whether by which and subsequently them refer to histories

or the sciences. In the former case, by histories of ideas or of the

sciences, it is meant here an average cross-section of them.

This means that we will not be looking at all of the

histories, but just some of them. In other words, we are not

interested in what all of the historians say, but rather a

portion of them – the average cross-section of them. In the

latter case, by the sciences, it is meant here an average cross-

section of them. This means that we will not be looking at the

histories of all the sciences, but just some sciences. In

other words, we are not interested in what the historians say

about all the sciences, but rather a portion of them – an

average cross-section of them. Keeping both of these possible

interpretations in mind, let us look at the paradox of the

text’s intervention. The text tries to focus our attention to

one intended meaning, yet, by doing so, it opens the space for

a further proliferation of meaning, as the average cross-section

can be understood in more than one way.

The word cross-section is made by liking, through hyphenation, the

words cross and section, and the influences of both words can be

seen in the possible meanings. It can refer to the act of

cutting something across. The word section is hereby understood as

cut or incision. This means cutting something along a line that

forms a cross with (is perpendicular to) its longest axis. It

seems then that the intended meaning of the text is the

perpendicular cutting of the line of histories (of ideas or of

the sciences) or the line of the sciences. Associations to the

act of cutting are included even in the visual properties of

the word cross-section, with the use of the hyphen. An even more

potent association to the act of cutting are the two dashes

that are used to position the explanation of the intended

meaning. It is through the act of typographic cutting that the

text reveals that what is meant is the act of cutting. During the

act of reading, upon encountering a text positioned between

two dashes one changes their intonation and rhythm. This is

another way in which the text uses a cut (in tone and rhythm)

to tell us that it is about a cut. Another meaning of the word

cross-section is the section made by the cut previously described.

In this case, section is understood as part, piece or division. So

cross-section is no longer referring to the act of cutting across,

but rather to the results of such a cutting. When a cross-

section (as cutting) is performed on three-dimensional

objects, the resulting cross-section (as piece) reveals

something previously hidden. A cross-section shows the

internal contents of the object. Provided that the outer

surface of the object is not transparent, the only way to

examine the internal properties of the object is by looking at

its cross-section. Following along those lines, the intended

meaning of the text is to provide insight into the internal,

previously hidden, features of the histories (of ideas or of

the sciences) or of the sciences. There is also another, more

specific way of using the word cross-section. It is used in the

life sciences (mostly biology and medicine) to refer to a

sample of biological material, acquired by performing a cross-

section (as cutting), which is used for further examination,

most notably with a microscope. If we adopt this

understanding, the intended meaning of the text becomes to

focus on a sample – a piece of the whole that retains all of

the characteristics of the whole. Therefore, what is meant is a

limited number of histories (of ideas or of the sciences) or

of the sciences, which can be used to make generalizations and

conclusions about all of them. By understanding cross-section as

sample we witness an allusion to life sciences which

foreshadows their appearance later in the text. This

foreshadowing functions almost as a literary device, which

makes it worth noticing.

Regardless of how we choose to understand the word cross-section,

one thing is certain about it: it is average. Used as an

adjective, average can mean something that relates to the

arithmetic mean. The arithmetic mean, as defined in mathematics,

is the sum of all the elements of a collection, divided by the

number of elements in the collection. In order to calculate

the arithmetic mean, one must know the number of elements and

their values. When applied to the text, this meaning of average

would have an interesting implication. In order to talk about

the average cross-section of histories, one would have to be

able to count the histories. And since histories are what the

historians say, one would have to count the historians. By the

same token, in order to talk about the average cross-section of

the sciences, one would have to count the sciences. Here it is

important to remind ourselves that the historians and the sciences

does not necessarily mean all of them, but may also mean just

the most well-known or dominant ones. This brings to the other

possible meaning of the word average. It can be used to refer

to something typical, ordinary or common. So an average cross-

section of histories is a cross-section of what the historians

typically say. This invokes a sense of tradition, which is another

foreshadowing of what the text talks about later. Similarly,

an average cross-section of the sciences is a cross-section of

those fields of knowledge that are traditionally referred to as the

sciences.

Credit

Moving past the intervention that the text made with the

interruption, the sentence continues with the verb that

designates the action – credit. If were to leave out parts of the

sentence, in order to simplify it, the first part would read

“Histories…credit the seventeenth century, and especially the

eighteenth, with a new curiosity”. The word credit, used as a

verb, means to acknowledge or commend. The acknowledgement that

comes with being credited is usually due to some kind of

achievement. In the context of the text, the achievement that

merited the seventeenth and eighteenth century the credit is a

new curiosity. So one important aspect of the implications of the

use of the word credit is that of achievement. This means that

there was an ongoing endeavor during these two centuries, one

that culminated with an event worthy of acknowledgement.

Another important aspect becomes evident when the verb credit is

understood as to put confidence in, or to trust, or to believe in, or to

have faith in. This implies that histories trust that the

seventeenth and eighteenth century did something. In other

words, the historians say that they believe that the seventeenth

and eighteenth century brought a new curiosity. This way of

understanding the verb credit introduces an opening for doubt in

what the historians say. If they merely credit the two centuries

with something, it is not necessary to accept their belief as

fact.

Seventeenth and eighteenth century

The mentioning of the seventeenth and eighteenth century has

an effect on our effort to identify histories and the historians. As

history deals with the past, we can be sure that there were no

histories prior to the seventeenth century that credited it

with anything. Predicting the future is not in the domain of

history. This also gives a partial answer to the question of

who the historians are (or rather, who they aren’t). We now

know that the historians are surely not historians who lived and

worked prior to the seventeenth century. The use of ordinal

numbers to describe centuries also brings back the notions of

order and classifying. It is evident that time is not only

counted, but ordered and classified in sections. What is not

evident from the text is the specific system used to count and

classify time. There is no reference to the starting point

used to count the centuries. However, the text seems to belong

to the same order as the historians, since its mentioning of the

seventeenth and the eighteenth century assumes a well-known and

commonly accepted way of counting and ordering time. Another

evidence of belonging to the common order is the use of the

word century. Coming from the Latin centum, which means one

hundred, it is used to define a period of one hundred years.

Although this way of classifying years is not peculiar to one

particular system of measuring time, it is not universally

accepted. For example, the Tamil calendar organizes time in

cycles of sixty years. There may be other systems of time

reckoning that do not use the one hundred years cycle. All we

know is that the historians use the measure of centuries to count

years, and that they share a common reference point according

to which they order their count.

Especially

It is interesting to note that the achievement with which

histories credit the seventeenth century were especially

manifested in the eighteenth. This means that there was a

process that lasted for two centuries, and that there was a

gradation to it. The process started in the seventeenth century,

but was particularly evident in the eighteenth. At least that is

what the historians say.

New curiosity

Whatever the historians say happened in the seventeenth and

eighteenth century, one thing is clear – it was a new thing.

This can mean that it did not exist prior to that time. But it

can also mean that it did exist, but its origins were still

considered recent. The adjective new can also be used to

describe something unfamiliar or strange. This is related to one

of the ways in which we can understand the word curiosity. It can

mean something abnormal or atypical, something out of the ordinary – a

grotesque. This extraordinary rarity was not fitting the established

order of things. On the other hand, the word curiosity can be

used to describe the desire to learn and know things, an interest, an

inquisitiveness. This inquisitiveness was new, and in that sense

unusual and unprecedented.

The curiosity

Immediately after mentioning it for the first time, the text

goes on to explain this new curiosity, and it does so by using

a colon – a punctuation mark that directly announces a

description or explanation. And the explanation reads: “the

curiosity that caused them, if not to discover the sciences of

life, at least to give them a hitherto unsuspected scope and

precision.”

It is worth noting again that this new desire to learn and

know things marked a whole era, since it lasted for two

centuries. It is not surprising then that the text,

immediately after the colon, refers to it as the curiosity.

Considering everything that we have said so far about the

possible usages of the definitive article, it seems that at

the time of the text’s coming into being this curiosity was

already a well-known event.

Caused

A possible reason why the curiosity seems well-known is

because it caused something. In other words, it initiated, it

provoked, it led to something. In this sense, the curiosity was

a cause or a source, an agent of something significant enough to

give it historical recognition.

Them

But the curiosity in and of itself did not do anything.

Rather, it caused someone to do something. The text says that

the curiosity caused them to do something, and the structure of

the sentence implies that them refers to the seventeenth

century, and especially the eighteenth. How can centuries,

which are nothing but classes of a hundred years, be the

subject in the sentence? This question demands our attention.

It would seem much more reasonable to say that the people

living and working in those centuries did something. A

possible reason why the individual agents are left out, and

the action is attributed to the time periods, could be the

sheer multitude of agents. It could be the case that so many

people were involved that the historians decided to attribute

the action to the centuries instead. It is like saying that

the twentieth century was very violent, simply because there

were so many individual agents of violence and violent events.

But another reason could be that, from the historical

perspective, the individual agents did not seem important. It

could be the case that the historians simply did not find it

significant to point out the human agents, and rather chose to

attribute all the action caused by the new curiosity to the

times.

If not…at least

So what did the new curiosity caused the seventeenth century,

and especially the eighteenth, to do? It caused them, “if not

to discover the sciences of life, at least to give them a

hitherto unsuspected scope and precision.” The construct if not…

at least demands our attention. In order to simplify our task to

analyze the next segment, let us focus on the verbs and

neglect all other elements of the sentence. It caused them if

not to discover, at least to give. The if not…at least construct is

ambiguous, since it can be understood in two very different

ways.

Let us further simplify things by using the example of the

following sentence: “Mark was, if not a great musician, at

least a good one”. One way of understanding this is that Mark

was a good musician, and maybe even a great one. In other

words, we can almost say he was a great musician. This

understanding of the sentence leaves us with the impression

that Mark was successful as a musician. Another way of

understanding this sentence is that Mark was a good musician,

although never a great one. In other words, we cannot say he was

a great musician. This understanding of the sentence leaves us

with the impression that Mark was more of a failure as a

musician.

Following this example, we can read the text in two ways. The

seventeenth and eighteenth centuries certainly gave something,

and we can almost say that they discovered something. This way

of reading the sentence leaves us with the impression that

what the seventeenth and eighteenth century gave was just short

of a discovery. On the other hand, we can read that the

seventeenth and eighteenth century did not quite discover

anything, but at least they gave something. In both cases, one

thing is certain: a discovery did not happen. It may have been

attempted, and perhaps almost achieved, but it did not take

place.

Discover

Since the curiosity caused the seventeenth and eighteenth

century to come close to discovering something, let us look at

the possible meanings of this word. The verb discover can mean

find out, or gain knowledge of. The object of the discovery was

there, but it was unseen or unknown. The two centuries

therefore almost noticed or realized the existence of the sciences

of life. But since the discovery did not happen, we can

conclude that the sciences of life were, in fact, known, seen

and noticed before. However, a more archaic, yet equally valid

meaning of discover is reveal or disclose. With this meaning in

mind, we can read that the sciences of life existed before,

but were somehow veiled or hidden. The two centuries then almost

revealed them. This way of reading discovery gives more

significance to the act and tells us that the seventeenth and

eighteenth century came close to doing something a lot more

engaging than simply noticing.

The sciences of life

Let us look at the possible meanings of the word life. The word

life is used to refer to the condition that distinguishes animate

organisms from inorganic, inanimate objects. Life is also used to

refer to the sum of phenomena that distinguish organisms from

inanimate objects, such as metabolism, growth, reproduction

and adaptation to the surroundings. The word life can also be

used to define the period of animate existence of an organism.

When used in this sense, life refers to the period of animate or

active existence of things other than organisms, like a soul

or a machine. Finally, life can refer to the general or

universal condition of human existence.

We have previously looked at the possible meanings of the word

science and saw that, in its broadest sense, it is used to

designate any body of knowledge that is systematically

organized according to certain rules and laws. The sciences of life,

in this broadest sense, are then any systematically organized

bodies of knowledge about life, in any of its aforementioned

senses. However, the sciences of life can be read in a much more

specific way. Namely, it can refer to those sciences commonly

known as life sciences. Those are the fields of scientific inquiry

that involve the study of living organism, most notably biology and

medicine. Considering what we previously discussed, on more than

one occasion, about the possible meanings of the usage of the

definitive article, it seems reasonable to assume that the

sciences of life are, in fact, those well-known or dominant

fields of scientific study revolving around biology and

medicine.

Give them

We have seen so far that the seventeenth century, and

especially the eighteenth, may have come close to finding out

or noticing the existence of biology and medicine, or perhaps

just fallen short of revealing the existence of systematically

organized knowledge about the living organisms or the human

condition. Be it as it may, the discovery did not happen. What

did happen, according to the historians, is that the

seventeenth and eighteenth century gave them (the sciences of

life)a hitherto unsuspected scope and precision. The verb give

means to present, or to bestow. It can also mean to place in

someone’s care, or even to grant something to someone. In all of

those cases, we can read that the sciences of life benefited

from what the seventeenth and eighteenth century gave them.

Hitherto unsuspected

The verb suspect means to believe, to be guilty, or to doubt or mistrust.

In a less suspicious way, suspect can also mean to believe to be the

case, or to have foreknowledge, or a hint of some sort. The noun

suspicion can refer to the act of suspecting, in any of its

meanings. But it can also be used to describe a vague notion of

something, a trace or a suggestion of something. Following along

those lines, the adjective unsuspected tells us that the scope

and precision were hitherto not believed to be guilty of anything, or

that there wasn’t even the slightest hint or notion of them. The word

hitherto simply means previously or up to this point. The seventeenth

century, and especially the eighteenth, gave the sciences of

life a scope and precision that was until then unimagined.

Scope and precision

The word scope has several meanings, all of which are associated

with space. It means length, breadth, extent, capacity, reach, space for

movement, etc. It can also mean outlook, or range of view. Finally, it

can mean range of operation or range of application. With this in mind,

we can read from the text that a certain, previously

unimagined change happened to the range of operation or domain of

the sciences of life. A change happened to the space they

occupy. But nothing is said about the direction of this

change. We do not know if the scope enlarged or diminished.

However, when placed next to the word precision, the word scope

can be seen with a clearer scope. Precision means accuracy, exactness,

particularity, meticulousness, fidelity, or correctness. All of these words

revolve around the notion of operating within a very narrow,

precise space. In its juxtaposition with precision, the word scope

sparks associations with broad spaces or wide ranges. We read

that the seventeenth century, and especially the eighteenth,

in a single movement expanded the field of study of the

sciences of life, but also particularized their areas of research

or made their findings more accurate. To use the language of

photography, the lenses of the sciences of life went through a

simultaneous zoom-out and zoom-in. So the historians say that

in the seventeenth and eighteenth century, more areas of life

became subject to scientific classifying and ordering, both on

a macro and micro scale.

THE SECOND SENTENCE

A certain number of causes and several essential manifestations are

traditionally attributed to this phenomenon.

This phenomenon

It is evident from the structure of the two sentences that the

pronoun this refers to curiosity. The text says that the curiosity

is a phenomenon. The word phenomenon can be used to refer to an

observed (or observable) fact or occurrence. But more often than not,

phenomenon is used to describe something exceptional or remarkable

– a sensation. The curiosity was, if you will, extraordinary, or out

of the ordinary. This means that it expanded out of order of

things. Yet, this rupture was only temporary. As we have seen

previously, by widening the scope and refining the precision

of the scientific endeavor to classify no less than life

itself, the curiosity caused the order of things to extend

wider and deeper. In quite a phenomenal way, the curiosity

expanded out of the order, only to expand the order itself.

Several essential manifestations

What is even more phenomenal about the phenomenon is that it

had several essential manifestations. Several means that there were a few

essential demonstrations, or ways in which the phenomenon revealed,

or materialized itself. Now, a few can be understood as only a few,

meaning a little, but also as quite a few, meaning a lot. Several can

mean anything from hardly any to numerous. But regardless of the

way we read several, it is the word essential that gives us the

perspective on the number of incarnations of the curious

curiosity phenomenon. Essential means fundamental, constitutive, crucial,

elemental, something that is very important or necessary. This means

that there were other manifestations as well, but perhaps less

important. So by selecting several essential, it is strongly implied

that there were, in fact, many manifestations. Let us note

that the act of distinguishing or discriminating the

manifestations of the curiosity phenomenon according to a

certain criteria (in this case importance), is an act of

classifying.

Certain number of causes

We have seen what the new curiosity caused – an unimagined

expansion of the scope and increase of precision of the

sciences of life. But what caused it? The text does not speak

about the causes, but it does speak about their number. And it

says that the number of causes is certain. This means that the

number of causes is fixed, agreed upon, established, unquestionable,

indisputable. This means that the number of causes is known. At

the same time, certain can mean definite but not specified. An example

of such usage would be the sentence: “A certain person sent a

postcard”. This would mean that the number of causes is fixed

but unknown. Finally, the phrase certain number, can have the

same meaning as several. We have seen previously how several can

be read as a handful, but also as a considerable amount, and

anything in-between. It is quite interesting to notice how an

elaboration of the possible ways of reading the word certain

showed a degradation of the certainty of its meaning: from utter

sureness to complete uncertainty.

Traditionally attributed

The verb attribute means to associate, ascribe, assign to a source,

connect or credit. In its usage in the second sentence of the

paragraph, the word attribute mirrors the way in which the word

credit was used in the first sentence. The causes and

manifestations of the curiosity do not stem from the

phenomenon itself. Rather, they are attributed to it. This means

that they are associated with it (by an external entity), but

does not necessarily testify to the validity of the

association. There is an aura of uncertainty around the causes

and manifestations of the curiosity phenomenon. It is induced

with the uncertain reference to their number (certain number,

several), supported by the notion of attribution from outside, and

emphasized by the use of the word traditionally. Tradition is an

established practice, custom, culture, heritage. It is a belief or practice

handed down through generations. It is an inherited way of thinking

or acting. Something done traditionally is done routinely, or

according to a certain norm. Since traditional beliefs are

inherited, they are rarely questioned, which leaves a certain

space for doubt in their certainty. But as uncertain as it may

be, tradition is a strong reference to the order of things.

Tradition is a part of the order and the two are complexly

intertwined. Tradition is what the historians say.

Instead of a conclusion

In an attempt to summarize all that was said about the

possible meanings of the text we read, let us look at a

graphical representation of the words used in this paper. The

size of each word corresponds to its frequency in the text.

The proliferation of possible conclusions that each reader may

draw, amplified by the number of future readers, is in

accordance with the tone and direction of this whole paper.