What Makes Humans Inventive?人類因何而創造？

張爽

Two new books probe the evolutionary roots of creativity.兩本新書探討創造力的進化根源。

Does science spoil beauty？ John Keats， an English Romantic poet， thought so. When Sir Isaac Newton separated white light into its prismatic colours， the effect， Keats wrote， was to “unweave a rainbow”. By explaining how rainbows occurred， the mystery and the lustre were lost. The idea that science and the arts are distinct， incompatible cultures is an enduring one. Two new books seem to cut to the heart of the matter： human creativity.

Edward Wilson， 88 and the author of “The Origins of Creativity”， is the grand old man of Harvard biology. His speciality is myrmecology—the study of ants. For a short book， “The Origins of Creativity” is brimming with ideas， many of which wander， as Mr Wilsons writing often does， beyond the brief of the title. Ultimately， though， everything in the book ties back to genetics and evolution—and a belief that culture and creativity have genetic roots.

Mr Wilson traces the source of creativity to human prehistory， on the African savannah. Mans ancestors were， for a time， dull， relatively asocial vegetarians. The crucial step， Mr Wilson argues， came with the switch to eating meat. This meant having to hunt in groups， and that meant becoming more social： people had to co-operate in the foray， and share the rewards. This change put an evolutionary premium on communication and social intelligence. Eventually， by way of natural selection， it gave rise to symbolic language. And thus the birth of the humanities came about， in storytelling and the “nocturnal firelight of the earliest human encampments”.

This version of events is relatively straightforward. More controversial is where Mr Wilson tries to take the reader next. In his eyes the humanities today are static and blinkered， hamstrung by their failure to acknowledge their evolutionary roots. The salvation of the humanities， he argues， lies in the “Big Five”： palaeontology， anthropology， psychology， evolutionary biology and neurobiology. By studying these different areas， scientists will be able to connect aesthetics and cultural evolution to the underlying genetic evolution that explains them. Thus Mr Wilson would expand the mantra of Theodosius Dobzhansky， a great geneticist： “Nothing in biology makes sense except in the light of evolution” to “Nothing in science and the humanities makes sense except in the light of evolution.” Where Mr Wilson focuses on the origins of creativity， Anthony Brandt and David Eagleman， a composer and a neuroscientist， focus in “The Runaway Species” on the act of creation. The book makes a single argument， clearly and thoroughly： creativity is never the creation of something from nothing. Instead， consciously or not， people refashion things. They do this for the most part in three ways： by bending， breaking and blending. Bending involves taking something and altering a property. Breaking involves taking a whole apart and assembling something new from the fragments. And blending involves mixing multiple sources together in new ways.

“The Runaway Species” is not short of examples. For breaking， the authors cite Cubism， shotgun sequencing of DNA and photomontage in film. For blending， the minotaur and the mermaid， genetic splicing and creole languages. And for bending， the authors point to the artificial heart. At first， scientists copied the heart as closely as they could， beating and all. But beating led to wear and tear—and was unnecessary， as the heart simply needs to pump blood. Today transplant patients are given continuous-flow hearts. （It turns out that Dick Cheney， who had a heart transplant at the age of 71， has not had a heartbeat since 2010.）

In a way， Keats was right： applying scientific scrutiny to the arts runs the risk of feeling like an autopsy. Both these books， though， skirt around that danger. Messrs Wilson and Eagleman themselves are both scientists and novelists—living embodiments of the fallacy that there are two distinct cultures. Both “The Origins of Creativity” and “The Runaway Species” approach creativity scientifically but sensitively， feeling its roots without pulling them out.

科學是否會毀壞美好？英國浪漫主義詩人約翰·濟慈認為如此。當艾薩克·牛頓爵士將太陽光分解成日光七色時，濟慈寫道，其效果好比“拆掉了一道彩虹”。一旦對彩虹的出現進行了解釋，其神秘和光澤就都消失無蹤了。認為科學和藝術是截然不同、互不相容的兩種文明的觀點經久不衰。兩本新書似乎直指問題的核心：人類的創造力。

《創造力的起源》的作者、88歲高齡的愛德華·威爾遜是哈佛大學生物學泰斗。他的專業是蟻學——研究螞蟻。就一本篇幅不長的書來說，《創造力的起源》中充滿巧思，而其中很多都游離于書名之外，這正是威爾遜常見的著書風格。然而，書中的一切終究都與遺傳學和進化以及認為文明和創造力有基因根源的觀點有關。

威爾遜先生將創造力的起源追溯到非洲大草原上的人類史前史。人類的祖先一度是遲鈍的、相對不合群的素食者。威爾遜先生認為，人類創造力的關鍵一步是開始吃肉。這意味著人們不得不成群結隊去打獵，進而越來越習慣群居：人們必須在狩獵時進行合作，并分享成果。這一變化促進了交流方式和社會智能的顯著進化。最終，通過自然選擇，符號語言形成了。就這樣，人文學科就在故事的講述和“人類最早宿營地夜間的火光”之中誕生了。

這個版本的大事記相對簡單。更有爭議的是威爾遜先生接下來想把讀者引向何方。在他看來，今天的人文學科是停滯的、狹隘的，受阻于對自身進化根源的無知。他認為，人文學科的復興在于“五大學科”：古生物學、人類學、心理學、進化生物學和神經生物學。通過研究這些不同的領域，科學家將會把美學和文化進化與對它們進行解釋的基礎性遺傳進化聯系起來。因此，威爾遜先生會將杰出的遺傳學家特奧多修斯·多布任斯基的信條“生物學中沒有什么是有意義的，除非從進化的角度來看”擴展為“科學和人文學科中沒有什么是有意義的，除非從進化的角度來看”。威爾遜先生關注的是創造力的起源，而作曲家安東尼·勃蘭特和神經學家戴維·伊格爾曼在《失控的物種》中關注的則是創造行為。這本書明確而充分地論證了一個觀點：創造力絕不是憑空創造出來的東西。相反，人們是在有意識或無意識地重塑事物。主要由三種方式實現：改造、重組和混合。改造指取出某物并改變其性質。重組指拆開一個整體，然后拼湊出新的東西。混合是以新的方式配置多種資源。

《失控的物種》不乏這樣的例子。重組的例子有立體主義、鳥槍法測序和電影蒙太奇。混合的例子有彌諾陶和美人魚、基因拼接和克里奧爾語。改造的例子有人造心臟。起初，科學家盡可能細致入微地復制心臟，包括心臟的跳動等。但是心臟跳動會導致磨損，而且沒有必要這樣做，因為心臟只需要泵血。如今，需要移植的病人接受的就是連續流動式的心臟裝置。（實際上，71歲時接受心臟移植手術的迪克·切尼自2010年以來心臟就沒有跳動過了。）

某種程度上，濟慈是對的：以科學審視藝術，會讓人感覺像是在解剖。不過，這兩本書都避開了這種風險。威爾遜先生和伊格爾曼先生本身既是科學家又是小說家——他們現身說法地解開了這兩種不同文化不能相融的悖論。《創造力的起源》和《失控的物種》在探索創造力時既合乎科學，又心思縝密，在不把它們連根拔起的情況下觸碰它們的根源。

（譯者為“《英語世界》杯”翻譯大賽獲獎者;單位：南京大學外國語學院）