March 24, 2006

Dear Colleague,

    When is the last time you picked up a scholarly article or book with a high sense of expectation, wondering what's in it, what new themes and theses it offers? I confess I haven't done so for some time. Rather, if I have done so, it is more often in the area of moral philosophy and natural theology than in geography or the social sciences. The social sciences have had schools of thought, with the founder's name attached, such that I feel I already know, in essentials, what's in a paper or book of that school even before I have read it, examples being works labeled Freudian or Marxian. In geography, I feel the same way. The ideological position in academic geography is by now so well established that certain key words in the title, alone, give me the impression that I already know how the argument will go, these key words being, for example, "Writing...," "Contesting...," "Discoursing..., "Gendering...," or "Neoliberalism."

    What about "old" geography? Well, you can certainly guess at the sort of arguments that will not be in it. But can you tell, from looking at the title and glancing at the contents, what will be in, say, Hartshorne's Nature of Geography (1939), Sack's Homo geographicus (1997), and Cronon's Nature's Metropolis (1991)? Not knowing is what prompts me to pick up a book and read it. But isn't this true of everyone? One would think so, but no: lots of academics read a paper or book for reassurance--from a need to have their point of view and even vocabulary confirmed.

    The beauty of mathematics is the element of surprise. In this respect, it's like a detective novel and at the opposite extreme from the drab, predictable products of the social sciences. In the world of mathematics, everyone recognizes the mystery, and so the question is "who done it?" One mathematician says, "I know 'who done it,' and I can prove it." His colleagues listen on tip toes. "Can he really prove it?" Even if the proof is several hundred pages long, the reader perseveres. Why? Because understanding it is not merely checking all the individual steps to see whether they are strung together according to the rules. Not at all. Detailed mechanical plodding is neither necessary nor sufficient. As Paul Chernoff puts it, "What is crucial is to see through the technicalities to grasp the underlying ideas and intuitions, which often can be expressed concisely and even pictorially. Once the gestalt is perceived, the competent mathematician can fill in as much formal detail as needed. Jacob Bronowski, speaking of the work of John von Neumann, has put it more beautifully. 'What is running through the page is a clear intellectual line like a tune, and all the heavy weight of equations is simply the orchestration down in the bass.'" (Science, vol. 193, 23 July, 1976, p. 276)

    Now, won't it be wonderful if there is a work in geography that has "a clear intellectual line like a tune," a tune you have never heard before and that comes to you as a revelation?

Best wishes,

Yi-Fu