FRANKENSTEIN: ABSTRACTION IS EVIL

One of the great scenes in Young Frankenstein is when the creature wanders into the home of a blind man (Gene Hackman at his best).  Blind man and Creature have lots in common: they

are different (blind in one case, large and ugly in the other); because they are different, they are lonely; because they are lonely, they need companionship.

“Companionship” literally means “bread with” another. As a story, Young Frankenstein emphasizes something earlier films missed. The creature is

unloved.  He has no one to break bread with, no companions. What he longs for is a stable, loving family life.

Such domestic felicity is, sadly, closed to the creature because he is so different.  What he most longs for is a companion, someone to share home and hearth, someone who, based on such sharing, will get to know him beyond the physical impressions at which others recoil.  Victor Frankenstein promises that he will put together another creature, this time a female, the much needed, much desired companion. Alas, Victor reneges on his promise.  The creature, betrayed and hurt, turns vengeful and a violent.

It all goes back to “bread together,” and to the awareness that comes from time spent in loving companionship.  The book of Genesis famously has Adam

“knowing” Eve, a kind of knowing that leads to pregnancy. This use of the term also indicates a kind of knowing that emerges from companionship, from spending a life together. It’s a term that suggests awareness of what another is like based on familiarity, on relationality. When we make a claim like "I know her/him really well," it's quite different from knowing that 3 plus 2 equals 5 or that water freezes at 0 degrees Celsius.

The sad aspect of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is that no one takes the time to “know” the creature along the model of companionship.  The people with whom the creature interacts cannot get past his “otherness.” Instead of thinking and being thoughtful, they remain on the level of abstract, immediate sense perception.  What results is a truncated kind of awareness. The concrete, whole self is ignored. One aspect alone, ugliness, is highlighted

There is an important lesson here for philosophy. Abstraction, often touted by philosophers, is actually an ally of evil. Those who judge the creature based on  his looks are reacting abstractly, just as those who would judge by skin color alone, or gender, or religion.

The surprising lesson for philosophy is one that has been articulated by Alfred North Whitehead.  Philosophy is not the arena for abstractions. Rather, philosophy

should be the critic of abstractions.  Humans feel a strong tug in the the direction of abstracting, of simplifying, of separating, isolating, disconnecting.  Philosophy, tied to wisdom and to thoughtfulness, has a special role to play: it must provide a counterbalance.

The hard corollary: thinking and abstraction do not go together.   Logic and abstraction go together. Calculative rationality (planning in terms of fixed goals and the most efficient means to arrive at them) depends on abstraction.  “Thinking,” or being “thoughtful” is quite different. Indeed, abstraction is a hindrance to thinking and thoughtfulness. The latter’s mode of reflection results in a particular sort of claim, the “I know" that results from companionship.

Martin Heidegger made much of the link between “thinking” and “thanking.” Thinking (and its partner thoughtfulness) is a grateful response to our being in the world. It is not separated from affectivity. Its aim is full awareness about what is, an awareness not accessible to those who remain detached from what they are seeking to understand.

Thinking thus gives rise to a kind of concrete knowing, the one Latin calls cognoscere, French connaître, and German kennen. (As opposed to the more abstract scire, savoir, and wissen.)  This awareness, this companionship-based-getting-to-know, cannot happen when thinking and abstracting are confused.  Abstraction, specifically undertaken for specific purposes, plays an important role, especially in laboratory sciences.  In everyday life, though, the allure of abstraction must be resisted.

In Mary Shelley’s novel, only the blind man is thoughtful in regard to the creature. Everyone else succumbs to abstract perception.  Ugliness, size, and skin texture are all they pay attention to. Abstraction is plentiful. Thoughtfulness is rare.

Young Frankenstein may be a comedy, but its take on the creature’s story is revealing. The characters in Young Frankenstein live out the knowledge of

companionship in relation to the creature. Shelley’s novel depicts the sad state that results when abstract knowledge rather than companionship knowledge dominates.