Consciousness, Literature and the Arts

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Volume 14 Number 1, April 2013

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Narrative, Consciousness and Cognition in the Works of Bertolt Brecht

by

Anthony Squiers

Western Michigan University

“The time is out of joint—O cursed spite,

That ever I was born to set it right!”[1]

Introduction

According to Bertolt Brecht the major obstacle to the emancipation of the working class is their inability to see the true realities of the world and their exploited position within it. Brecht believed that they are unable to see these realities because they have been socialized to understand the world through the dominant, (i.e. bourgeois) weltanschauung or worldview (Brecht & Willett, 1992).This worldview presents current social and economic structures as rational, natural and inevitable. These assumptions of the rationality, naturalness and inevitability of the systems form the core elements of the dominant worldview and are reinforced by bourgeois forms of art (Brecht & Willett, 1992).

In response to the bourgeoisie’s domination of worldview and in an effort to shatter the mythos created by the worldview, Brecht formed his aesthetic theory of theatre known as epic theatre. In it, Brecht developed various ‘estrangement effects’ (Verfremdungseffekte) which were designed to make the familiar world seem unfamiliar. In Brecht’s words, an estrangement effect is “a representation … which allows us to recognize its subject, but at the same time makes it seem unfamiliar” (Brecht & Willett, 1992, p. 192). The theory posited that if one presented empirical representations to an audience in odd, unusual ways it would allow them to begin seeing the world differently. In essence it would demonstrate the possibility of alternative worldviews. This, in turn, would challenge much of what is held as commonsense or taken-for-granted knowledge.

However, it has been argued that Brecht’s estrangement effects are unlikely to have this effect (Silcox, 2010). Drawing an analogy between Brecht’s estrangement effects and the phenomenon of imaginative resistance Silcox attempts to debunk Brecht’s theory. Specifically, she argues that Brecht’s rejection of empathy completely detaches the audience from the performance, leaving them unengaged and thus unable to form meaningful responses. According to Silcox, emotional engagement with artistic communications is necessary for lasting impressions to form and didactic intention to be successful. She finds emotional engagement lacking in Brecht’s work and then presents empirical evidence which purports to substantiate her claim.

However, several fatal pathologies in her theoretical conceptualization and empirical data leave this work invalid. For example, Silcox makes several false assumptions about Brecht’s theory of estrangement. First, she assumes that Brecht’s work is meant to completely negate emotional response (p. 131-133, 137). This is not the case. As Brecht himself says, his epic theatre was not meant to completely eliminate emotional response. In fact, Brecht recognizes the importance of emotional response saying that “the epic principles guarantee a critical attitude on the part of the audience, but that attitude is highly emotional” (Brecht, Rorrison & Willett, 1993, p. 135). Furthermore, this notion is found elsewhere in Brecht’s writings (Brecht, B., & Willett, 1992, p. 23, 88) and is also recognized by preeminent Brecht scholar Reinhold Grimm (Martin & Bial, 2000, p. 37), Sartre (1976), Boal (1985), etc. What epic theatre attempted to do was to eliminate one particular emotional response, full empathy with the protagonist. This, Brecht believed, would allow the audience to then have an emotional response based on a critical and rational assessment of what they have seen (Althusser, 1990; Benjamin, 1973; Brecht, B., & Willett, 1992; Brecht, Rorrison & Willett, 1993; Sartre, 1976; Squiers, 2011).

Secondly, Silcox incorrectly assumes that Brecht’s estrangement effects were designed to alienate the audience from the performance (p. 132, 135). In fact, Brecht wanted the audience to be engaged with the performance. He required attentiveness and personal, intellectual commitment to it. The estrangement Brecht desired was an internal estrangement from one’s current weltanschauung or worldview (Brecht, B., & Willett, 1992; Munk, 1972, 4; Squiers, 2011; Squiers, 2009). This misconception is likely a result of Silcox’s failure to make a distinction between alienation (Entfremdung) and estrangement (Verfremdung). Brecht, of course, uses the term Verfremdungeffekt. Bloch (in Munk, 1972) draws a precise and accurate definition of Verfremdung. According to Bloch, while Verfremdung and Entfremdung “are bound together by the alien” (Munk, 1972, p. 4), the former is the idea of making the familiar strange—as Brecht does with his Verfremdungseffekte. Verfremdung connotes a de-familiarized conceptualization where as Entfremdung only implies a distancing as Feuerbach (1998) uses it to indicate a moving away of one from one’s true self and Marx uses it to indicate the moving away of one’s labor product from one’s self (Marx, Engels & Tucker, 1972, p. 56-67). Brecht’s use of the word Verfremdung and not Entfremdung indicates that the moving away or distancing he sought through these effects was a distancing of familiar conceptualization not as Silcox implies a distancing of the audience from the play’s performance and its content.

Finally, Silcox erroneously assumes that the primary idea of Brecht’s text in his epic theatre was to bombard the audience with moralistic messages (p. 135). This too is a false assumption. Instead, Brecht attempted to portray realistic events and wanted the audience to come to their own conclusions about the moral implications of the events portrayed (Martin and Bial, 2000, p. 29; Schwarz, 2007; Squiers, 2011, Sarte, 1976; Barthes, 1972). There is also a pathology with the empirical evidence Silcox uses to support her thesis. Silcox uses survey data taken of audience members after what she deemed to be a performance of epic theatre in 1969 (p. 138-139). The survey attempts to gauge what types of effects the play had on the audience. However, as Silcox states, the director employs the same techniques as Brecht himself used. However, she fails to realize that the particular estrangement effects employed in this performance (e.g. speaking directly to the audience, sudden shifts in action, etc.) would have no longer have worked as estrangement effects because the audience would have become too accustomed to them. Instead of standing outside the expectations of that audience’s worldview these effects would have been immersed in it. While once at the vanguard of dramaturgy, many of Brecht’s estrangement effects have been so widely adopted not only in theatre but in cinema and television they are now (as they would have been at the time of the survey) rather commonplace. As noted Brazilian critic Roberto Schwarz (2007) states, “It is easy to note the use advertising has made of the most sensational discoveries of avant-garde art, among them the resources of the Brechtian actor” (p. 42). In order, then, to produce the desired effect one would need to create new estrangement effects and cannot recycle the old. This is something that is readily recognizable to those with dramaturgy backgrounds (Squiers, 2009). Since Brecht’s original estrangement effects, which no longer work as estrangement effects were employed one would not expect that the audiences would be affected in the way Brecht theorized. Moreover, when effective estrangement effects are employed there is preliminary empirical evidence that they work as theorized (Squiers & Roessler, 2011).

Unlike the extant literature, this paper provides an accurate reconstruction of Brecht’s rationale behind his estrangement effects. Its principle thesis is that, contrary to the existing research, Brecht’s techniques are likely to produce their intended effects. This is demonstrated by close examination of one estrangement effect employed by Brecht which still works as an estrangement effect— the altering of the structure of narration away from the traditional plot structure articulated by Aristotle in his Poetics.[2] By drawing on sociology of time literature, I argue that this alteration of plot structure is, in effect, an alteration of a particular type of time that Zerubavel (1985) refers to as ‘socio-temporal order’ and that Brecht’s manipulation of socio-temporal order was a technique used to expose the human origins of reified social constructions and likely to alter the consciousness of his audience.  This paper engages Brecht’s Marxist aesthetic with work in the sociology of knowledge, social psychology, the sociology of time, and other disciplines. In doing so, it advances beyond the formalistic approaches that dominate Brechtian scholarship and provides for the type of critical engagement with aesthetics promoted by the influential cultural theorist Fredric Jameson (Jameson, 1971; 1982, etc.).  The paper will begin with an overview of Brecht’s aesthetics. In the first two sections, three differences between Brecht’s epic narrative and Aristotle’s dramatic narrative will be demonstrated. The next section will show how these differences in narrative structure have been previously understood and suggest the existence of an additional understanding which taken together with the work of Jameson and Benjamin provides a more complete and nuanced account of Brecht’s work. The discussion will then turn to establishing that narrative structure is a form of sociotemporal order and that temporal referencing has important implications for human cognition and subsequent conceptualizations of the world. It will then be established that sociotemporal order can become reified. Next it will be established that dramatic plot is both a form of sociotemporal order and reified and that there are two effects of changing sociotemporal order—anxiety and cognitive disturbance. In the concluding section it will be argued that a third function of Brecht altering of narrative form exists, namely this production of anxiety, cognitive disturbance and subsequently the disruption of one’s belief in their ‘reality’.

Brecht’s Narrative Aesthetics

In his accounts of epic theatre, Brecht contrasts it with what he refers to as ‘dramatic theatre,’ or the theatrical style described by Aristotle in his Poetics. Three oppositions between ‘dramatic theatre’ and epic theatre are relevant to the current discussion on narrative structure.  First, as opposed to ‘dramatic theatre’, the narrative arrangement of epic theatre does not move linearly. Instead, the course of events moves as Brecht says, in “‘irregular’ curves” (Martin& Bial, 2000, p. 25). In ‘dramatic theatre’ the narrative has a certain trajectory. Early in the narrative, conflict is introduced. All scenes maintain a certain trajectory headed toward the eventual resolution of that conflict. Each progressive scene, then, is intrinsically linked to and builds upon the previous scene “by causal necessity” (Aristotle& Butcher, 1997, p. 14). The resolution of the conflict and a subsequent dénouement constitute the teleological end-point of the story. Epic narrative form, on the other hand, does not move toward a resolution of conflict. Instead, it deliberately rejects such resolution in order to highlight, for the audience, the unresolved social antagonisms which exist in the material life world. Since epic theatre does not move toward the resolution of a conflict, it can dispense with trajectory of this kind and is thus allowed to move in an irregular, nonlinear, even erratic fashion.  The second difference between the narrative structure of ‘dramatic theatre’ and epic theatre is closely related to the first. Since epic theatre rejects the trajectory based narrative structure which progresses toward the resolution of a conflict, a scene need no longer be dependent on the previous scene. Scenes are allowed a certain degree of detachment from each other. Unlike in ‘dramatic theatre’ where one scene exists for the next and only as part of the unified whole of a plot, in epic theatre each scene stands as a self-contained entity. Although each scene still maintains a thematic continuity with the others and can be linked by characters and setting, each scene is meant to stand alone, in epic theatre. Jameson (1998) refers to this self contained nature of each scene, in epic theatre as ‘autonomization’ and states, “the episodes of a narrative thus cut up into smaller segments tend to take on an independence and an autonomy of their own…Scenes are episodes, and the episodes are temporally separated from each other (p. 43-4).

Brecht’s classic play, Mother Courage and her Children provides a good illustration of these two points. The title character, Mother Courage, is a vendor of war goods. She along with her three children (Eilif, Kattrin and Swiss Cheese) move through the front during the Thirty Years War selling their wares from a cart. The play is divided into twelve scenes arranged chronologically with the first scene set in 1624 and the last in 1635.  In the first scene, Mother Courage is visited by two army recruiters who attempt to recruit her son Eilif into the war. Mother Courage forcefully resists this proposition but later in the scene Eilif is led off to enlist by one of the recruiters while the other one distracts Mother Courage by engaging her in a business transaction. The second scene jumps forward to the following year and depicts a chance encounter between Mother Courage and Eilif where Mother Courage castigates her son for risking his life by being brave in his new role as a soldier. The third scene again jumps forward another three years and depicts among other things Mother Courage’s failed attempt to ransom her son, Swiss Cheese, who has been taken prison and subsequently executed. The play continues in this manner of jumping forward with individual scenes depicting the fortunes and misfortunes of Mother Courage and the eventual death of all three of her children.  Although the events portrayed are presented chronologically, these scenes are not moving linearly in the sense scenes do in ‘dramatic’ form. Each subsequent scene does not build upon the previous scene. Each subsequent scene does not rely on the previous scene in order to make sense. They can exist independently of each other and in fact could be staged in a variety of orders without distracting in any significant way from the play’s impact. What is important for Brecht, in this play and in his epic theatre, is not the progression of the scenes or a building up of the scenes to some end point. What is important are the depictions contained in the individual scenes. In Mother Courage, as with Brecht’s other epic plays, the scenes are ‘atomized’ vignettes, each designed to reveal some truth about social relations. Essentially, each scene in Mother Courage is a snapshot, a glimpse of events that transpired over a nine year period during the Thirty Years War. The scenes are not bound together by the necessity of a progressive moment toward the resolution of a conflict. In Mother Courage there is no resolution to be found. In scene eleven Mother Courage’s sole remaining child, Kattrin, is shot and killed trying to prevent a surprise attack on a sleeping village by beating a drum while on a rooftop. In this scene, Mother Courage has now lost all of her children to the war that had been sustaining them. Although all three of Mother Courage’s children become causalities of the war, and although the war has taken away her entire family, in the final scene, Mother Courage once again straps herself to the cart and follows the troops who are again on the march. As the war continues so does Mother Courage’s business.

Instead of existing to propel the story along the plot’s trajectory to the resolution, the purpose of each scene in epic theatre is to stand as an illustration of actual social contradictions. For Brecht each scene “[c]ommunicates insights” (Martin & Bial, 2000, p. 25) about the material life world and social conditions.

Brecht provides a clear illustration of these two differences between ‘dramatic theatre’ and epic theatre when discussing the bourgeois novel which he argues shares a narrative form with ‘dramatic theatre’. He states:

The bourgeois novel in the last century considerably developed “the dramatic,” which meant the strong centralization of plot and an organic interdependence of the separate parts. The dramatic is characterized by a certain passion in the tone of the exposition and a working out of the collision of forces. The epic writer, Döblin, gave an excellent description when he said that the epic, in contrast to the dramatic, could practically be cut up with a scissors into single pieces, each of which could stand alone (Martin& Bial, 2000, p. 24)

The final difference pertaining to narrative form between ‘dramatic theatre’ and epic theatre is Brecht’s rejection of the principle of natura non facit saltus (nature does not make jumps) (Martin& Bial, 2000, p. 25). This rejection stems from Brecht’s natural ontology and can been seen as a major theoretical basis for his deviations from the dramatic form. 

Natura Non Facit Saltus

The principle of natura non facit saltus was a methodological assumption of Swedish naturalist Carl Linnæus used in his categorization of plants and animals. Linnæus based his system of categorization on the variations of what otherwise are species which have many common characteristics. Different species, for Linnæus, were variations on a common theme. The way the species varied from the common theme formed the basis of Linnæus’ nomenclature scheme. Linnæus’ methodology was appropriated by Charles Darwin in crafting his theory of biological evolution. In his theory, Darwin stressed the gradualness of change in nature. Biological evolution, according to Darwin was a process of slight, accidental alteration which took ages to unfold into its present state. Darwin argued that this gradual process of change was ordained in the natural order of life processes. He states:

As natural selection acts only by accumulating slight, successive, favourable variations, it can produce no great or sudden modification; it can act only by very short and slow steps. Hence the canon of ‘Natura non facit saltum,’ which every fresh addition to our knowledge tends to make more strictly correct, is on this theory simply intelligible. We can plainly see why nature is prodigal in variety, but niggard in innovation. But why this should be a law of nature if each species has been independently created, no man can explain. (quoted from Fishburnn, 2004, p. 65)

Aristotle describes narrative structure in a way which is very similar to the way Darwin described the process of biological evolution. According to Aristotle, narrative arts have their foundations in two causes “lying deep in our nature” (Aristotle& Butcher, 1997, p. 5)—the natural human inclination to imitate from which humans derive a form of pleasure and the “the instinct for ‘harmony’ and rhythm” (Aristotle& Butcher, 1997, p. 5). This instinct for harmony and rhythm, for Aristotle meant the desire to synchronize with the pulses and rules dictated by nature. According to Aristotle, narrative form had its own natural harmony and rhythm which is reflected in what Brecht refers to as the dramatic form (Aristotle& Butcher, 1997). This natural form, for Aristotle was natura non facit saltus which he believed to be the natural form of all change. He states for example, “[n]ature proceeds little by little” (Franklin, 1986, p. 247) and “nature passes…in…unbroken sequence [metabainei sunechōs]” (Franklin, 1986, p. 248). Thus, narrative form too should fit this model because “the objects of imitation are men in action” (Aristotle& Butcher, 1997, p. 3). In other words, a narrative depicts men in action who are living under the conditions of nature and hence are propelled through time according to the natural dictate of natura non facit saltus.

The continuity assumption of natura non facit saltus can also be seen in Aristotle’s analysis of narrative structure. He states, for example, “plot, being an imitation of an action, must imitate one action and that a whole, if any one of them is displaced or removed, the whole will be disjointed and disturbed” (Aristotle& Butcher, 1997, p. 16). Aristotle’s assumptions of natural causal sequencing were applied to narrative from, which he viewed as ontologically indistinct from nature. This understanding is exemplified in Aristotle’s assertion that proper narrative structure should “resemble a living organism in all its unity” (Aristotle& Butcher, 1997, p. 47). In short, Aristotle puts forth the claim that the pattern of natura non facit saltus is the pattern of natural progression and thus is the natural pattern of dramatic narrative which is a reflection of nature. This concept can also be seen in the aforementioned discussion of the linear, interdependent nature of dramatic plot where each scene evolves from its predecessor.

In general terms, natura non facit saltus stresses the continuity within the process of change. Deviations are slight. Sequential manifestations retain many of the qualities of the previous manifestation. Subsequent manifestations are simply alterations of their predecessors. Brecht rejects this conceptualization of natural and social change and instead argues that nature does make leaps. This methodological assumption about the nature of change is, in my analysis, at the core of the now famous aesthetic debate between Lukács and Brecht. According to Lukács, the form of the traditional novel (e.g. Tolstoy, Balzac) has developed in much the same way Aristotle describes the discovery of the natural form of a narration that is according to the natural law of natura non facit saltus (Bloch, 2007). While Lukács is not as essentialistic as Aristotle, he does claim that the dramatic narrative form is an accumulation of the historical totality of mankind. Davies for example states, “[w]ith Lukács…the reading of history in relation to art and social change requires searching for those totalizing forms which reflect the wholeness of experience” (O'Neill, 1976, p. 65). In Lukács’ thought, this narrative structure represents the history of previously reconciled contradictions and as such serves as the proper form for the advancement of world history (Bloch, 2007. It is an accumulation of established truth. Brecht, on the other hand argues that this is not the case. Brecht believes that the dramatic form is not the accumulation of historically established and persistent truth but only the expression of bourgeois truth, which is mere ideology according to Brecht and something which needs to be overcome in order for the proletariat to see the truth of their exploited position and the means of emancipating themselves (Bloch, 2007; Solomon, 1979; Brecht & Willett, 1992; Brecht, Rorrison, & Willett, 1993). For Brecht, then, one cannot base a revolutionary aesthetic in the aesthetic forms of the past. A revolutionary aesthetic must break (i.e. leap) from the past. This leap is not only necessary it is possible and natural for Brecht. He states, “revolutions are derived from metaphysics, they happen because the old yields to the new and because the only thing ‘that is irresistible is what comes into existence and develops’. everything is dependent on everything else, and developments happen with miraculous leaps” (sic) (Brecht, Rorrison, & Willett, 1993, p. 46).

In short, Lukács sees the traditional narrative structure in terms of a dialectical progression which has emancipatory properties built into it. But, Brecht sees it as a reflection of bourgeois ideology which must be overcome by a break away or a progressive leap—“the leap from quantity into quality” (Brecht, Rorrison, & Willett, 1993, p. 342). Facit saltus, not natura non facit saltus is the natural pattern of social change for Brecht. Therefore, the use of natura non facit saltus in narrative structure is a replication of a false idea and serves to reify the false belief in this conception of change.

The Bad New Things

One of the most widely commented on aspect of Brecht’s work is its innovative character. This is not surprising given Brecht’s entreaty “[d]on’t start from the good old thing but the bad new ones” (Benjamin, 1973, p. 121). In regards to narrative structure the function of Brecht’s innovations have been understood in two ways. First, as Jameson (2000) highlights Brecht’s divergence from dramatic narrative form (what he calls Brecht’s ‘autonomization’) draws particular attention to the events and actions portrayed on the stage. Benjamin also recognizes this function when he says that “[t]he job of epic theatre…is not so much to develop actions as to represent conditions” (Benjamin, 1973, p. 4). Brecht himself draws attention to what Jameson calls his ‘autonomization’ when he states, “the individual episodes have to be knotted together in such a way that the knots are easily noticed. The episodes must not succeed one another indistinguishably but must give us a chance to interpose our judgment” (Brecht & Willett, 1992, p. 201). Instead of allowing the audience to get caught up in the emotions evoked by dramatic plot (e.g. what will happen next? How will the hero cope? etc.), Brecht’s ‘autonomization’ allows the viewer an opportunity to absorb the gest—“[t]he realm of attitudes adopted by the characters toward one another” (Brecht & Willett, 1992, p. 198). According to Brecht, expressions of gest are “usually highly complicated and contradictory” (Brecht & Willett, 1992, p. 198). Thus, a higher degree of attention to them is needed in order to understand them. In epic theatre, the gest does not serve to propel the story but has another function—to help reproduce “real-life incidents on the stage in such a way as…bring it to the spectator’s attention” (Brecht, Rorrison, & Willett, 1993, p. 81). The importance of gestus cannot be overlooked. As Brecht says, “[t]he ‘story’ is…the complete fitting together of all the gestic incidents” (Brecht & Willett, 1992, p. 200). Brecht’s ‘autonomization’ allows for the gest to have its intended effect on the audience by drawling particular and directed attention to it.

The second way Brecht’s innovations in narrative structure have been understood is having the function of eliminating empathy and catharsis. This aspect has been explored most famously by Benjamin (1973) and is perhaps the most conventional explanation of epic narrative form. According to Benjamin, “[w]hat Brecht refuses is Aristotelian catharsis, the purging of the emotions through identification with the destiny which rules the hero’s life…The art of epic theatre consists in arousing astonishment rather than empathy…instead of identifying itself with the hero the audience is called upon to learn to be astonished at the circumstances within which he has his being” (Benjamin, 1973, p. 18). In other words, in epic theatre the hero is not attempting to resolve a conflict, nor is the narrative structure a mere unfolding of events toward the resolution of the protagonist’s conflict. Thus, the audience cannot adopt the protagonist’s struggle as their own as is the case in ‘dramatic theatre’ and feel the sense of catharsis once the resolution is established. That Brecht desired to purge his theatre of catharsis and the empathy which was intrinsically linked to it is unquestionable. He states, for example, “I’m not writing for the scum who want to have the cockles of their hearts warmed” (Brecht & Willet, 1992, p. 14).

The reliance on empathy in ‘dramatic theatre’ to express meaning is too low of a standard for art according to Brecht. He states, “the catharsis of which Aristotle writes—cleansing by fear and pity, or from fear and pity—is a purification which is performed not only in a pleasurable way, but precisely for the purpose of pleasure” (Brecht & Willet, 1992, p. 181). For Brecht, emotional pleasure is shallow and its use is based on an assumption of the audience’s incapability to derive meaning from reason.[3] Brecht rejects this, saying, “[t]he one tribute we can pay the audience is to treat it as thoroughly intelligent. It is utterly wrong to treat people as simpletons when they are grown up at seventeen…I appeal to reason” (Brecht & Willet, 1992, p. 14). Furthermore, Brecht argues that empathy acts as an imposition on the audience which disallows them the opportunity to obtain the full potential of the art. In his words:

great theoretical obstacles prevent us from recognising that the concreteness with which life is depicted in Aristotelian drama (drama which aims to produce catharsis) is limited by its function (to conjure up certain emotions) and by the technique this requires (suggestions), and that the viewer thus has a stance I posed on him (that of empathy) which prevents him the more effectively the better the art functions (Brecht, Rorrison & Willett, 1993, p. 109)

While the two functions of Brecht’s divergence from ‘dramatic’ narrative form highlighted above—1) drawing particular attention to the events and actions portrayed on the stage and 2) dispensing with empathy and catharsis—are important elements of Brecht’s theory, they are not an exhaustive explanation of the functions of Brecht’s divergence from ‘dramatic narrative form’. I argue, an examination of the literatures of the sociology of knowledge, social psychology and the sociology of time shows that Brecht’s deviance in narrative form also distorts the audience’s sense of time and thus draws attention to the fact that time or more specifically the forms of time that Zerubavel (1985) refers to as ‘socio-temporal order’ are nothing more than reified social conventions. By dispelling the myth of the organic nature of temporal order Brecht is also attempting to dispel the myth of the organic nature of other social conventions which are understood as commonsense matters and taken-for-granted truisms of bourgeois society.

Cognition, Patterns of Data Delivery and Socio-temporal Order

One can think of forms of temporal reference as falling into two groups. The first group is comprised of temporal references which emanate from the observation of the rhythms of the natural world. The day would fall into this category because it is based on the duration of the earth’s rotation around its axis. Temporal references which are based on the rhythms of nature can be contrasted with those forms of temporal references in our second group—those which have no foundation in the rhythms of nature. Temporal references in this group are creations of humankind. The week serves as an example of this. As Zerubavel (1985), the foremost sociologist of time, points out there is no rhythm in nature that corresponds to the seven day cycle. Thus, this sense of time is “a socially constructed artifact which rests upon rather arbitrary social conventions” (Zerubavel, 1985, p. xii). That the duration of the week was altered after the French Revolution and in the Soviet Union attests to the conventionality of this type of temporal reference—what Zerubavel refers to ‘sociotemporal order’.

Sociotemporal orders have two relevancies to the current discussion. First, as will be argued below, ‘dramatic’ narrative structure is a form of sociotemporal order which situates events in a prescribed but arbitrary sequence that has no corresponding rhythm in nature. Secondly, temporal referencing has important implications for human cognition and subsequent conceptualizations of the world (i.e., important implications in the creation and maintenance of a weltanschauung).

As Zerubavel points out, “[o]ne of the major contentions of cognitive psychology is that man essentially perceives objects as some sort of ‘figures’ against some ‘ground’” (Zerubavel, 1985, p. 19). In other words, objects or data in general are made sense of by contextualizing them, that is, by applying them to some frame(s) of reference. According to Zerubavel (1985), “[a]ny interpretive process of ‘defining a situation’ essentially presupposes a solid, reliable ground, against which the situation can be perceived and assigned some meaning” (p. 19).

One of the ways humans contextualize data is through temporal references. As Zerubavel (1985) states, “time functions as a context for anchoring…meaning” (p. xiv). Although seemingly one could create any type of meaning for one’s self by ‘anchoring’ data in whatever context their fancy can create, meaning can only have intersubjective validity (i.e. be understood by others) if one ‘anchors’ their meaning in socially shared contexts. Garfinkel (1984), who’s work has been widely influential in the social sciences makes exactly this point when he states:

With respect to the problematic character of practical actions and to the practical adequacy of their inquiries, members take for granted that a member must at the outset ‘know’ the settings in which he is to operate if his practices are to serve as measures to bring particular, located features of these settings to recognizable account. They treat as the most passing matter of fact that members’ accounts, of every sort, in all their logical modes, with all of their uses, and for every method for their assembly are constituent features of the settings they make observable (p. 8)

Here Garfinkel is using “settings in which he is to operate” to mean what we have referred to as the context in which meaning is anchored. “Recognizable account” means simply being understood by others or what we have referred to as intersubjective validity. Simply put, Garfinkel is stating that humans must share some context by which to produce meaning if they hope to communicate with others. It is also important to note that Garfinkel points out that individuals assume those they are communicating with share a similar cognitive context. In his words, they treat it as “the most passing matter of fact” (Garfinkel, 1984, p. 8). We shall return to this point shortly. These assumptions stand at the heart of Garfinkel’s theory and have informed much of current cultural anthropological thought.  According to Garfinkel (1984), “Sociologists distinguish the ‘product’ from the ‘process’ meanings of a common understanding. As ‘product,’ a common understanding is thought to consist of a shared agreement on substantive matters; as ‘process,’ it consists of various methods whereby something that a person says or does is recognized to accord with a rule” (p. 24-5). In other words, the products of meaning are the pieces of data (words, vocalics, actions, expressions, communications, etc.) which are accessible to others and have intersubjective validity. The process is the way in which those data are presented. Common understanding (i.e. intersubjective validity) is predicated on ‘rule’-like processes. Part of that process is to found or ‘anchor’ one’s inner-subjective cognition in a common context with those one wishes to communicate with as was mentioned above. This involves a common system of characterization, differentiation, classification, symbolic representation, system of logic, and epistemological and ontological assumptions. However, this common system is only one of the ‘rule’-like features of the process of intersubjective understanding. There are also ‘rule’-like features in the manner of communication. That is, there are certain expected features, and patterns of communications. If communications are presented without expected features, they can become convoluted, misinterpreted, incomprehensible, ambiguous—in short, lacking intersubjective validity.

Often temporal sequencing is one of these ‘rule’-like features in the process of creating intersubjectively valid pieces of communication. For example, in the English language there is the expectation of a specific temporal sequencing in sentence structure. Take, for example, the following fragment: “the red shirt”. This fragment follows the expected temporal sequencing in English. First, comes an article, then the adjective and finally the noun. Using this expected, ‘rule’-like sequencing, a sentence like, “She wore the red shirt.” has a high degree of intersubjective validity. [4]However, by altering the temporal sequence of the sentence we can see that the statement loses a degree of intersubjective validity. If, for example, one said “She wore the shirt red” confusion emerges. The reason confusion emerges is because the receiver is accustomed to receiving data in a particular sequence. It is, of course, not impossible to make sense of this sentence. However, the way we can make sense of it is by deconstructing the pieces and reconstructing them back into the temporal sequence we are accustomed to. Only then does the sentence achieve the level of intersubjective validity of our original sentence.

The two aspects of the process of common understanding that I have highlighted are of course culturally and linguistically specific. One social group can, for example, ‘anchor’ meaning in a different context than another social group. Different social groups can and often do have differing systems of characterization, differentiation, classification, symbolic representation, systems of logic, and epistemological and ontological assumptions. One social group can also apply different prescriptions for delivery of data than another social group. For example, the temporal sequencing of the Spanish sentence differs from English in that the article is followed directly by the noun which is then followed the adjective.[5] As Garfinkel (1984) points out, common understanding then is possible by the application of these ‘rule’-like structures in both cognitive processing and data delivery. These ‘rule’-like structures sit then as “background expectancies as a scheme of interpretation” (Garfinkel, 1984, p. 36) for members of the social group. That is, individuals expect that others in their social group will abide by the rules and therefore apply those rules in their interpretations of data. As Garfinkel (1984) states, common understanding is possible because those in a social group act “in accordance with methods” (p. 30). However, these methods do not necessarily need to be articulated or even understood by the members of the social group. Often members do not even realize their existence because they are so basic to the operation of one’s daily life. As Garfinkel (1984) says, these ‘rule’-like structures are “‘seen but unnoticed,’ expected, background features of everyday scenes” (p. 36) which are “treated by members as the ‘natural facts of life’” (p. 35). That is, they are so commonplace, so fundamental that they are taken-for-granted and obtain an unquestioned status of commonsense facticity for the members of social group. For example, a child learning English will internalize the temporal sequence of article, adjective, noun as if this was a fact of nature. (S)he will see it simply as the way things are. As a convention, it achieves a level of accepted facticity that serves as a foundation of practical action. People speak this way, I speak this way.

Zerubavel (1985) recognizes socio-temporal order as obtaining this type of facticity. He states, for example, “[t]he temporal regularity of our everyday life world is definitely among the major background expectancies which are at the basis of the ‘normalcy’ of our social environment” (Zerubavel, 1985, p. 21). Berger and Luckmann’s work is also in accord with this proposition. They state, “[t]he world of everyday life is structured both spatially and temporally” and “temporality is an intrinsic property of consciousness” (Berger and Luckmann, 1967, p. 26). Flaherty (2003) also recognizes the importance of temporality in consciousness arguing that self-conceptualization is influence by temporal factors. As is evidenced by the preceding paragraph, though language structure is a social construction, it attains the same level of facticity—commonsense, taken-for-granted, uncritically accepted reality. In a word, these social constructions become reified. In the next sections we will discuss this process whereby social constructions, particularly socio-temporal order attain the level of facticity of a natural process or phenomenon as well as the implications of this process.

Reification of Socio-temporal Order

Garfinkel (1984) states that “[c]ommon sense knowledge of the facts of social life for the members of the society is institutionalized knowledge of the real world” (p. 53). Here he means that this commonsense knowledge is established as customary or normal but also that it becomes routinized or more accurately serves as the basis of routinized social existence. However, this commonsense, taken-for-granted knowledge rarely reaches the level of critical reflection by individuals within a social group. As Berger and Luckmann (1967) point out, “[c]ommonsense contains innumerable pre- and quasi-scientific interpretations about everyday reality, which it takes for granted” (p. 20). Both Berger and Luckmann (1967) and Zerubavel (1977, 1985) highlight that sociotemporal structures often exhibit this taken-for-granted, commonsense quality. Berger and Luckmann state for example, “[t]he temporal structure of everyday life confronts me as a facticity with which I must reckon, that is, with which I must try to synchronize my own projects... All my existence in this world is continuously ordered by its time” (p. 27). Zerubavel says, “even though the sociotemporal order is based, to a large extent, on purely arbitrary social convention, it is nevertheless usually perceived by people as given, inevitable, and unalterable” (p. 42).  Furthermore, Berger and Luckmann (1967) and Zerubavel (1985) also place emphasis on the role temporal structure has in determining actions. Berger and Luckmann say, “temporal structure…is coercive” (p. 27) while Zerubavel states that sociotemporal orders “often constitute binding normative prescriptions” (p. xiii). This notion has become a common theme in sociology. For example, Diehl and McFarland (2010) state, “collective behavior requires a shared grounding to make interaction meaningful, and so we see the relationship between the structure of situations and the sociotemporal structure of the rituals that happen in them as having an orthogonal relationship” (p. 1747). Moreover, Foster (1996) discusses the menstrual cycle as a form of sociotemporality concluding that the mental mapping out of rhythmic elements of the menstrual cycle is a highly social act that has real implications for social organization which affects women's lives.

The reason temporal structure is so coercive is because it is a social expectation. As was illustrated above, temporal structures are maintained as commonsense, taken-for-granted facticities which also shape social expectations. Others within one’s social group expect, for example, that temporal sequencing accord to particular rules and would have difficulty understanding utterances that do not accord with the rules.  Furthermore, much of social coordination, especially in complex modern societies would be impossible without standardized sociotemporal structures (Sorokin & Merton, 1937; Zerubavel, 1985; Foucault, 1995). Schedules, calendars, the rhythm of the clock, “[r]igid sequential structures,” “[f]ixed durations,” “the standardization of temporal location” (e.g. the bus arrives every hour on the hour, the stakeholder’s meeting is the third of every month, etc.) and “[u]niform rates of recurrence” all help a society coordinate actions and are predicated on the expectation that members of the society intuit them in a matter-of-fact, taken-for-granted, commonsense way (Zerubavel, 1985, p. 2-9).

All of these temporal structures are absorbed subconsciously and transmitted to younger generations by processes of socialization and can be learned early in childhood (Friedman, 1986). Each succeeding generation is socialized into the society’s sociotemporal structures until eventually these structures appear as natural, inevitable and immutable as any temporal order based on the rhythms of nature. The further removed one is, in time, from the origin of a social convention the less likely (s)he is to come to understand that convention as such. In Berger and Luckmann’s (1967) words,“[t]he ‘There we go again’ now becomes ‘This is how these things are done.’ A world so regarded attains a firmness in consciousness; it becomes real in an ever more massive way and it can no longer be changed so readily” (p. 59).

The social demands of a complex modern society, the requirements of intersubjective validity, the process of socialization and subsequent institutionalization all lead to the reification of socio-temporal order.

According to Berger and Luckmann (1967), “[r]eification is the apprehension of human phenomena as if they were things…reification is the apprehension of the products of human activity as if they were something else than human products—such as facts of nature, results of cosmic laws or manifestations of divine will” (p. 89). Similarly, Lukács (1971) describes the phenomenon of reification as happening when “a relation between people takes on the character of a thing and thus acquires a ‘phantom objectivity’, an autonomy that seems so strictly rational and all embracing as to conceal every trace of its fundamental nature: the relation between people” (p. 83). For both Berger and Luckmann and Lukács, the essential character of reification is evident. Reification is the objectification and naturalization of social, subjective phenomenon. It is when social constructions are not or no longer seen as social constructions but taken as something fixed by the dictates of nature. The taken-for-granted, commonsense, matter-of-fact quality of sociotemporal orders attests to their reification. To the [wo]man on the street, the seven day week, for example, is seen as natural, immutable and inevitable as the force of gravity which keeps her/him from floating skyward.  In the next sections we will see that ‘dramatic’ narrative structure, like the seven day week, is a particular socio-temporal order which has a similar taken-for-granted, commonsense, matter-of-fact, reified quality.

 ‘Dramatic’ Plot as Sociotemporal Order

 According to Dipple (1970), “Plot is the arrangement of action; action progresses through the indispensable medium of time from which it derives all of its modifying vocabularies. Beginning, middle, and end constitute a march through temporal history…” (p. 43). Here Dipple quite clearly articulates the temporal quality of plot.  As was discussed in the section on natura non facit saltus, Aristotle puts forth a theory of the organic nature of narrative structure. Specifically, the reader will recall that Aristotle argues that the pattern of natura non facit saltus is the pattern of natural progression and thus is the natural pattern of dramatic narrative which is a reflection of nature. As Belfiore (1992) states, “In Aristotle’s view, plot is a sustasis [i.e. bringing together] of events that is very strongly analogous to a biological sustasis.” (p. 176). Furthermore, as was stated before, for Aristotle, the ‘dramatic’ narrative has a certain trajectory. Early in the narrative, conflict is introduced. All scenes maintain a certain trajectory headed toward the eventual resolution of that conflict. Each progressive scene, then, is intrinsically linked to and builds upon the previous scene. This means that actions are placed in linear sequence where the beginning must come before the middle which in turn must come before the end (Aristotle& Butcher, 1997, p. 14). According to Aristotle, this trajectory can only move either from good fortune to bad fortune, or bad to good (Aristotle& Butcher, 1997, p. 15). ‘Dramatic’ plot then represents a rigid sequential structure, according to Aristotle’s formulation. In short, this rigid sequential structure constitutes the “principles” by which a plot must “conform” (Aristotle& Butcher, 1997, p. 14).

According to Zerubavel (1985), rigid sequential structures “are the most obvious and conspicuous form of temporal regularity” (p. 2). Furthermore, he points out that “sequential rigidity is, to a large extent, conventional and by no means inevitable” (Zerubavel, 1985, p. 5). Far from being the reflection of nature as Aristotle claims, ‘dramatic’ plot is simply a social convention and is as Zerubavel’s claim suggests not inevitable and is mutable. This point is made clear by Gibson (1996) is his critique of Genette and others who assume a naturalized narrative structure. Furthermore, Brecht’s epic theatre demonstrates this, as well as the work of Joyce and Beckett. Though they maintain narratives they forgo the so called natural principles outlined by Aristotle.

‘Dramatic’ Plot as Reified Structure

While it is evident that Aristotelian narrative structure is not ordained by natural forces and is instead a social convention (Gibson, 1996) which can be altered, it is still employed nearly exclusively. Benjamin (2003), for example, asserts that Aristotelian dramatic structure had a hegemonic influence on German drama. This point is also made by Unwin (2005), who argues that the hegemony of Aristotelian dramatic structure was especially pronounced in the European classical theatre of Germany and France. Furthermore, Dipple (1970) discusses the difficulties of moving past Aristotle’s ‘dramatic’ narrative structure saying, “[t]he place of time in the narrative and its potential control over the structure of fictions has a lengthy background” (p. 48). These statements attest to the widespread acceptance of Aristotelian dramatic structure. While widespread acceptance could be indicative of reification it is not, in itself, enough to demonstrate the reification of Aristotelian dramatic structure. In order to claim it has been reified, one most demonstrate that it is seen as natural not just by Aristotle but to contemporary society in general.  Empirical evidence that Aristotelian plot has been reified, is, however, readily available. An examination of my nine year old daughter’s report card attests to it. This should be no surprise given Barthes’ (1970) quip, that the “conventional mode of writing has always been a happy hunting ground for study in schools” (p. 69). On this report card, there is a section called “Proficiency in Writing Narratives”. Under that section there is a subsection entitled, “Writes narratives showing how characters, setting and events evolve”. Several things can be gleaned from this.

To begin with, the reader will notice the word ‘evolve’. This implies two things. First, that events need to develop and second that the development of narratives should mimic the process of evolution. In other words, there is an underlying assumption that narrative structure should have a continual evolutionary process. Here we see the application of natura non facit saltus suggesting an Aristotelian notion of plot. Second, notice that the report card says ‘showing how’ events evolve. It does not say that events can evolve but how they do. This suggests that events must move in some prescribed way. An examination of my daughter’s work and a quick inquiry into the matter confirms that indeed this prescribed way is Aristotelian in form. Finally, notice the phrasing, “showing how characters, setting and events evolve”. In this, ‘events’ are not being used as direct objects. ‘Events’ are evolving. Nothing is happening to ‘events’. They are not, for example, being: contrived, observed, composed, arranged, experienced, thought up, written, etc. They are not being made to evolve. Instead, ‘events’ have become anthropomorphized. They have the human quality of spirit, ego, autonomy, agency, self-animation. ‘Events’ are said to be doing the actions, all by themselves. ‘Events’ appears as an undifferentiated totality. They do not appear as the sum of purposeful, intentional, human actions, which they are. Human action is forgotten about, overlooked, ignored, perhaps suppressed (Gramsci, Hoare& Nowell-Smith, 1971; Brecht, 1993) and the human roots of ‘events’ become invisible, hidden, overlooked, etc. The puppeteer’s hands are hidden; the marionette appears string-less behind the black background of reification. We no longer connect with ‘events’ in our true relation to ‘events’. We no longer see these ‘events’ as the product of our labor. We connect with this object in a different way. We see it as an external object with agency which we observe, classify, describe, study, catalog, analyze, discover the properties of, etc. In short, we experience it only in its alienation from us.

My daughter’s report card suggests that there is an expectation to conform to the principles of Aristotelian narrative. For her, this is simply how plot is. She takes Aristotelian narrative structure for granted and moreover, understands it as if there are certain, set principles which can be mastered just as she understood that there are certain, set principles to the lunar cycle which can be mastered.  Furthermore, the fact that we found this on a child’s report card (from a public school nonetheless) is evidence of a profound level of institutionalization of Aristotelian narrative structure. Aristotelian narrative is the rule by which narrative structure abides. There is an assumption that Aristotelian narrative structure is how narrative structure is and younger generations are socialized to understand plot in this way.

The Effects of Altering Sociotemporal Order

So far, we have seen that in Brecht’s aesthetics, there is a rejection of Aristotelian dramatic form. We have also seen that Aristotelian dramatic narrative is a reified sociotemporal order. We shall now explore the consequences of deviating from expected sociotemporal order in order to gauge the potential effects of Brecht’s epic theatre may have on its audience. From the literature on social psychology and the sociology of time, we see that there are two, interrelated, potential effects of deviating from expected sociotemporal order. First, deviation from the expected sociotemporal order can cause a general sense of anxiety in individuals. As Zerubavel (1985) states, “temporal irregularity…contributes considerably to the development of a strong sense of uncertainty” (p. 12) and there is an “overwhelming feeling of ‘bad taste’ which often accompanies the act of deviating from that norm” (Zerubavel, 1985, p. 5). Garfinkel’s experimental work also points to the potential for mental distress from deviating from expected sociotemporal order. He states:

“the members’ real or perceived environment on losing its known-in-common background should become ‘specifically senseless’…behaviors directed to such a senseless environment should be those of bewilderment, uncertainty, internal conflict, psycho-social isolation, acute, and nameless anxiety along with various symptoms of acute depersonalization” (Garfinkel, 1984,  p. 55)

A variety of experiments done by Garfinkel lends empirical validity to both his and Zerubavel’s claims (Garfinkel, 1984). [6]   Second, there are “disturbing cognitive implications of temporal irregularity” (Zerubavel, 1985, p. 22). As was stated above, temporal references serve as grounds against which data can be perceived and assigned meaning. Zerubavel (1985) discusses the cognitive implications of altering these grounds saying, “any incongruity between figures and grounds is cognitively disturbing” (p. 21). Mostly likely anxiety results from an inability to make sense of data because the grounds we use to do so are not as we are accustomed to them seeing them. Collectively this feeling of anxiety and cognitive disruption can serve to undermine one’s faith in one’s sense of reality. According to Berger and Luckmann (1964) “the unproblematic sector of everyday reality is so only until further notice, that is, until its continuity is interrupted by the appearance of a problem” (p. 24). Anxiety and cognitive disruption are of course problematic and thus able to disrupt one’s belief in one’s ‘reality’.

Penetrating the Veil of Reification

In the first two sections we found that there were three differences between epic and dramatic theatre. Section one showed that epic theatre does not move linearly and scenes are not dependent on the previous scene. The next section showed that epic theatre rejects the principle of natura non facit saltus. After that, we found that Brecht’s innovations had two functions—to draw particular attention to the events and actions portrayed on the stage and the eliminating of empathy and catharsis. While accepting the validity of these claims, it was suggested that there is another function to Brecht’s innovations. The discussion then turned to establishing that narrative structure is a form of sociotemporal order and that temporal referencing has important implications for human cognition and subsequent conceptualizations of the world. In the following sections it was established that sociotemporal order can become reified and that dramatic plot is both a form of sociotemporal order and reified. Finally, the previous section argued that there are two effects of altering expected sociotemporal order—anxiety and cognitive disturbance. If dramatic plot is a sociotemporal order which is reified and Brecht alters this sociotemporal order, then the result would be the production of anxiety, cognitive disturbance and disruption of one’s belief in their ‘reality’. This then, is the other function of Brecht’s divergence from Aristotelian narrative structure— the production of anxiety, cognitive disturbance and the disruption of one’s belief in their ‘reality’. Brecht is very specific that the disruption of the audiences’ sense of reality is a goal of his epic theatre. He wants to estrange one from their sense of reality. Hence his estrangement effects. He states: the estrangement effect is “a representation that...recognize[s] its subject, but at the same time makes [the subject] seem unfamiliar” (Brecht & Willett, 1992 p. 192); “the ‘natural’ had to be given an element of the conspicuous” (Martin& Bial, 2000, p. 25) and “the normal must assume the character of the never-before-known” (Brecht, Rorrison & Willett, 1993, p. 328).

He attempts to achieve this estrangement of one from their sense of reality by method of deconstruction in its most basic sense. He states, “the self-evident…is resolved into its components when counteracted by the a-effect…an imposed schema is being broken up here” (Brecht, Rorrison & Willett, 1993, p. 82). In the example posed in this paper, Brecht breaks apart sociotemporal order. He breaks apart the imposed schema of Aristotelian ‘dramatic’ structure. By doings this he demonstrates that it is possible “to alter what has long not been altered” (Brecht & Willett, 1992, p. 192) and opens the possibility that other reifications such as the mode of production, the private ownership of the means of production, social relations, etc., can also be undone (Brecht, Rorrison & Willett, 1993, p. 192; Brecht & Willett, 1992, p. 184).

In this way, Brecht was attempting to “penetrat[e] the veil of reification” (Lukács, 1971, p. 86). Whether or not Brecht’s techniques actually function in the manner theorized is, of course, an empirical question. However, Brecht seemed to be anticipating Garfinkel’s (1984) claim that in order for taken-for-granted background expectancies to be observed “one must either be a stranger to the ‘life as usual’ character of everyday scenes, or become estranged from them” (Garfinkel, 1984,  p. 37). Brecht’s epic theatre uses the latter as its general approach. Furthermore, as was stated above, preliminary empirical evidence suggests that when properly understood and applied, estrangement effects can have an impact in altering individual’s conceptions of the world (Squiers & Roessler, 2011).[7] Therefore, contrary to existing research this paper has demonstrated that Brechtian estrangement effects have the potential to alter consciousness and thus can be used as a weapon against the hegemony of bourgeois ideology.

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