A mythical place: A conversation on the earthly aspects of myth

1 Myth and human geography

The definitions and thereby uses of the concept of myth within geographical research have varied greatly across time, approach, and, first and foremost, across subjectivities. It dates back to some of the earliest and most tangible of geographical practices: mapmaking. Maps, like myths, are ways of navigating the world and of communicating these directions to others. Through the art of cartography, fictional places – Atlantis, the Garden of Eden, Heaven and Hell – which are described in myths, religious texts, or through the word of mouth come into being, inspiring mapmakers and explorers alike (Lowenthal, 1961). While these illustrations are today taken as quaint or even preposterous (not least by my students), cartographic illustrations still hold taken-for-granted qualities based on spatial subjectivities, as illustrated by the Mercator and Gall-Peters projections (so you see, beloved students, we are all the butt of the joke). As representations of a continuously changing world, maps are ever altering; cartographic lines are drawn in pencil. More recently, geographers such as Harley (1989), Wood (1993), and Del Casino and Hanna (2000) have developed a more critical view of the construction and constructedness of the map, emphasising how maps are authored, or told, based on particular interests. The intersection between maps and myths is almost tangible as maps create what Barthes (1986) calls ‘referential illusions’ – a sense of events unfolding in logical progressions – making maps ‘impart on space an objective coherence, purpose and meaning, thus creating space as it is being mapped’ (Miller, 2005: 62).

During the 1980s, myth was increasingly discussed from a more abstract and theoretical approach as related to the practice and concept of metaphor. Led by William J. Mills and Donald Kunze, the revival of 18th-century philosopher Giambattista Vico – ‘the geographer’s philosopher par excellence’ (Kunze, 1983b: 246) – spurred a renewed interest in all things metaphor. While approaching Vico’s core concept of metaphor from two, possibly irreconcilable, directions, Mills and Kunze are nevertheless united in their presentation of metaphor as ‘the vehicle around which a systematic vision of the world is…organized’ (Mills, 1982a: 248). As such, metaphor is the principle for mythic thought by which place, or rather nature, is given subjective qualities such as intention, memory, mind and, not least, the power of speech (Kunze, 1983a). Myths, in other words, are conveyed by and through metaphor by a process of reversed antonomasia, i.e. forming the myth to fit the particulars of its circumstances (Kunze, 1983a, 1983b). ¹ Following Vico, Kunze thereby emphasises the importance of chronology – ‘sequential stages of history’ (Kunze, 2009: 138) – heralding Hayden White’s (1973) metatheory of emplotment which forms the very basis for story creation and storytelling, including myth.

Drawing an even stronger line between metaphor and myth, Livingstone and Harrison (1981) use a metaphor-myth model which reverberates with ideas put forward by Cassirer (1946), who claimed metaphor to be the intellectual link between language and myth. Based on metaphorical thought and communication, myth is ‘providing particular ways of ordering experience’ which ‘both conditions and is conditioned by basic beliefs about the essential structure of reality’ (Livingstone and Harrison, 1981: 98). Livingstone and Harrison also highlight the more practical implications of myth, asserting that it instigates and guides action by providing us with leading examples to be imitated in our own daily practices – a prototype of an imagined future (Livingstone and Harrison, 1981).

With a similar, yet far more philosophical, interest in the dialectics of thought-and-action, Gunnar Olsson focuses on the central theme of the ‘taken-for-granted’. Myth is a recurrent concept in these writings, if yet never fully explored or defined. Piecing together his various observations on myth, we can surmise that myth is accepted through repetitious and unreflected use (Olsson, 1974); it reflects dominant ideology (Olsson, 1978) and it is part of the process of ‘ontological transformation’ by which relations and the ‘real’ continuously transform into one another (Olsson, 1978).

In a more explicit use of the concept of myth, Shields (1991) explores collective ‘place-myths’ which form not only perceptions of place, but also its physical structure. While somewhat confusing the concepts by using ‘space’ and ‘place’ synonymously and perhaps overreaching when aiming for a ‘fully sociological theory of space’ (Shields, 1991: 30), Shields’ contribution still offers an interesting view on place-myth interconnections, stating that place-myths are ‘[e]veryday conceptions of ourselves and of the world we live in’ (Shields, 1991: 48). Place-myths, or space-myths, consist of a set of place-images which result from stereotyping or from prejudice, i.e. over-simplified meanings that become connected to a place or a region irrespectively of their accordance with reality. These myths are carried and conveyed through spatial routines and territorial divisions, such as the creation of borders. Differentiation, hypothesises Shields, is vital as it creates a cosmology of myths which serves to create spatialised identities used by communities to distinguish themselves from other social collectivities – a spatial mythology (Shields, 1991). Similarly, Lando (1996) stresses that the communication of what a place is, is conveyed equally by factual representation as by ‘cultural abstracts such as language, dialect, religion, ideology, history, traditions and myths’ (Lando, 1996: 7).

2 Conceptual pitfalls

The importance of these geographical treatments of myth cannot be overstated as they help develop a spatial aspect of myth that is otherwise often either underdeveloped or entirely overlooked. However, while theorists of myth are recurrent figures in geographical writing – most notably Cassirer (e.g. Livingstone and Harrison, 1981; Entrikin, 1977), Eliade (e.g. Claval, 2001), and Barthes (e.g. Duncan and Duncan, 1992) – and the very word ‘myth’ is a regular guest in geographical texts, its various uses within the discipline can be problematic.

The first problem lies in the tendency to historicise myth. Following Vico, Mills (1982a, 1982b) as well as Kunze (1983a, 1983b, 2009) ascribe myth to the first era of man – the ‘age of gods’ or the ‘poetic age’ – where nature is the messenger of the gods, filled with literal meanings to be directly translated (divined) by man. In the subsequent stages – the ‘age of heroes’ and the ‘age of man’ – myth loses its status as new modes of thought and expression emerge (Mills, 1982b). Myths, in other words, provide useful insights into the historical developments of man, but offer little in terms of understanding contemporary processes and practices, equating myth to a fable with little or no relevance to modern man. Neither Mills nor Kunze addresses this limitation, possibly missing a valuable opportunity to truly revive and reassert the relevance of Vico’s theories to modern-day geographical research. Similarly, Olsson dates the era of myth to before the 5th century BC, when man’s actions were not seen as his own but as belonging to the gods (Olsson, 1991). A third example of this ‘relegation of myth to a particular era’ of myth is offered by Claval, who places myth in a time when the only means of communication was the oral (Claval, 2001). Then came the time ‘when writing appeared and the time of myth was ruined’ (Claval, 2001: 151). However, the time for myth may have returned, he states, by the grace of new means of communication reminiscent of the time of mythic thought – the World Wide Web. Knowledge on the web has a topological structure consisting of two planes: ‘the people who wish to know, and those who hold the truth on the Web’ (Claval, 2001: 150). Myths, then, were absent from the world from the time man learned to write (as early as the 4th millennia BC, in Mesopotamia) until the invention and spread of the internet. And myths today live only in cyberspace. This curious dating is entirely the result of his definition of myth which, following Eliade (1969), is seen as a narrative in which gods and spirits, often through the medium of plants or animals, are directly involved in human affairs. Yet while this definition may explain the disappearance of myth, it does little to enlighten us about its return, internet trolls notwithstanding.

Alternatively, myths are not ascribed to a defined era of man, but are nevertheless studied only in hindsight, as exemplified by Wright’s history of geography (Wright, 1925b), by Cosgrove’s myth of Venice in the 16th century (Cosgrove, 1982), by Harvey’s ‘monument and myth’ (Harvey, 1979), by Buttimer’s cyclical myths of Phoenix, Faust, and Narcissus (Buttimer, 1993), or by Lewis’s and Wigen’s historicising of the myths of continents (Lewis and Wigen, 1997). These are all myths of the past, and while nothing in the definition of myth as a ‘lasting complex of ideas and values’ (Cosgrove, 1982: 145) excludes geographical studies of contemporary myths, continuously focusing on past myths creates a notion of datedness, making it both possible and comfortable for the ‘modern man’ to always keep myth at arm’s length, characterising it as primitive, archaic, and unenlightened.

The second pitfall, formalisation, is possibly even more problematic, i.e. for myths to be removed from the realm of everyday practice and put into the domain of the reified. Robinson et al. (1982) indict the metaphor-myth model of Livingstone and Harrison (1981) for precisely this flaw, stating that the ‘academic’ or even ‘Platonic’ reifications of their model misses the everyday activities that both edify and erode myth and metaphor (also see Livingstone and Harrison, 1982, for their reply). Experiencing a different kind of formalisation problem is the myth of Gunnar Olsson, which is formalised in the fashion of Greek tragedy. This template – where ‘in the beginning everything is beautifully right and in the end everything is horribly wrong’ (Olsson, 1991: 88) – must be, he claims, the basis for all contemporary theories of action. Yet it is hard to see how such a myth, prophesising such grim outcomes, would inspire any action other than avoidance. Myth cannot be tragic by definition as its explanatory power would then be limited to only the naturalised stories, or the ‘taken-for-granted’ in Olsson’s own terminology, that are devoid of hope. Other than viewed from a time-perspective bordering on the extreme, where everything once was and will again become stardust, such a formalisation of myth – and, equally, of place – will remain functionally philosophical.

The third pitfall is that the concept of myth itself is simply left undefined (e.g. Waitt and Head, 2002). It is left up to the reader to employ his or her own interpretation, leaving the meaning of a concept which emphasises and problematises the power of the taken-for-granted to itself be assumed. And the assumptions vary. Myth is, as we have seen, variously but implicitly understood as a dated story (e.g. Wright, 1925a, Cosgrove, 1982), an era of man (e.g. Kunze, 1983a, 2009; Mills, 1982b; Bowden, 1992), an old tale sprinkled with supernatural or divine features (Olsson, 1978, 1991; Claval, 2001) or, most common of all presumptions, a misconception (e.g. Lawson and Stockton, 1981; Fellmann, 1986; Dixon and Drakakis-Smith, 1995; Pain, 2006). Of course, there cannot be, and should not be, a universal understanding of the concept of myth. It is by nature an elusive concept, the value of which may lie as much in its constant development as in its definition. As such, it may well be that ‘myth’ belongs to Gallie’s (1956) essentially contested concepts which are kept alive and urgent through continuous debate and heated argument. Still, contested, not assumed. Nor does it need to be a problem to assume the meaning of the word myth, as no language can exist, or at least be meaningfully communicated, without such assumptions. A problem arises, however, when different assumptions meet and vital arguments are lost, so to speak, in translation. This is a problem perhaps made especially acute in this the age of transdisciplinarity.

These conceptual limitations – historicisation, formalisation, and definitional presumption – leave much of myth’s potential undiscovered and a vast field of theoretical input unchartered. Next, therefore, the dialogue continues by discussing some of the theoretical advancements of the concept of myth as approached by myth theorists within anthropology, political science, literary theory, and philosophy.

1 A short etymological history of mythos

In order to move forward, indulge me in first taking a step back as the conceptual evolution of the term myth, or mythos, is in itself a fascinating story. By many contemporary authors it is intuitively defined as a tale – a giver of poetic amusement or a tickler of our imagination – with little or no truth to it. As such, it is contrasted by the concept of logos, understood as truth or reason. Yet the meanings of words change over time and myth is no exception. Lincoln (1999) states that the etymological development of the word myth has taken several twists and turns, asserting that today’s matter-of-fact understanding of myth was once something altogether different.

Homer and Hesiod used the term logos to denote speech by women, the young, and the shrewd: a speech that is soft, delightful, charming, and alluring, but that may also deceive or mislead – the weapon of the weak. Mythos, on the other hand, represented headstrong men who were proud of their strength and certain in their right to conquer at any cost – the speech of the strong. Mythos, asserts Hesiod, is the majestic and righteous eagle while logos is the soft and alluring nightingale. Myth, in this sense, is ‘an assertive discourse of power and authority that represents itself as something to be believed and obeyed’ (Lincoln, 1999: 17).

It was during the days of Socrates – and, after him, Plato – that myth was given a new, less flattering meaning, one that resides with us to this day. Myths, they claimed, were told by poets and were not to be taken seriously. They were false, inspired, ignorant, and belonged to the (lesser) art of poetry, whilst logos was true, reasoned, knowledgeable, and belonged to the science of philosophy (Lincoln, 1999).

This version of myth, as an inferior form of narrative, kept its interpretive monopoly until the Renaissance, when old texts – myths – were once again revised and reinterpreted. They were now used as inspiration for nationalistic emotions, and texts that claimed to be written by poets of yore were published – texts which celebrated the idealistic, noble and, not least, common past. Using myths for spurring national identities grew progressively more popular during the 18th and 19th centuries when myth was increasingly connected to the term Volk, or people. This was later exploited to its full extent during the Nazi regime, which sought justification and legitimisation in old, new, and distorted myths around which the German Volk could rally. These were repeated endlessly in pictures, speeches, symbols, academic texts, etc., and served as a means of naturalisation, legitimising the regime’s despicable acts as ‘natural progress’. Cassirer, who himself had to flee Germany during this time, asserts that it is precisely during societal crisis that myths take hold, stating that ‘[i]n all critical moments of man’s life, the radical forces that resist the rise of the old mythical conceptions are no longer sure of themselves. In these moments the time for myth has come again’ (Cassirer, 1946: 280).

2 Theoretical advancements of the concept of myth

Theories of myth have been objects of much academic fascination, leading to great disciplinary spread. Segal (2004) asserts that there is no study of myth as myth, but rather a cross-disciplinary study of the questions of origin, function, and subject matter. More precisely, using myth theory is to ask how and why myth begins, how and why it persists, and what its referent is. Myth, therefore, isn’t a discipline of its own but transdisciplinary by its very nature.

In its most succinct definition, a myth is a type of story which conveys an important and naturalised message (Segal, 2004). Barthes, one of the most prominent and persistent advocates of myth study, sees myth as a type of speech (Barthes, 1972), which would place the study of myth under the general science of semiology or semiotics (Barthes, 1968, 1994). Speech, in this sense, is not restricted to oral communication but includes texts, pictures, cinema, symbols, etc. Expanding on his notion, Barthes states that ‘myth is a type of speech defined by its intention…much more than its literal sense’ (Barthes, 1972: 124) and, finally, that ‘myth is depoliticized speech’ (Barthes, 1972: 143). ‘Depoliticized’ should, however, not be confused with non-political, as myth can – and often does – convey, endorse, or devise political messages. Rather, Barthes refers to the notion that the myth is not perceived of as politically created, but seen as the natural state of things. This is a central feature, and one to which we will return later.

Myths are defined as much, if not more, by what they accomplish as by what they are. Malinowksi (1954) sees myth as the primitives’ way to explain aspects of the world they can neither understand nor control, such as ageing or floods. Cassirer (1946), however, asserts that mythology is not limited to primitive societies, but that it is equally relevant to modern societies, not least in the political sphere, and sees using myth as an attempt to achieve control. Similarly, Lévi-Strauss (1978) believes myth to be as much a part of modern society as that of the primitive and further argues that the ‘civilized’ mind does not differ from the ‘savage’ and that the seemingly arbitrary makings of myth can be traced across both time and space (Lévi-Strauss, 1966).

Myths have socialising effects (Arlow, 1961). The myth is a particular kind of mutual experience and the common needs or wants – anything from stricter immigration laws to slimmer bodies – which are conveyed through these special forms of shared fantasies help bring individuals together. The myth, therefore, is vital to psychic societal integration. It furthermore serves to ward off feelings of guilt or angst, as the needs which it conveys are shared throughout society and constitute a form of adaptation to reality. Myth, then, works by giving order and interconnected meaning to events and serves in situations where shared convictions or desires warrant explanation and/or justification (Arlow, 1961). Similarly, Schöpflin and Hosking state that by invoking myth one can ‘establish resonance, can mobilise people, exclude others, screen out certain memories, establish solidarity or, indeed, reinforce hierarchy of states and values’ (Schöpflin and Hosking, 1997: 22). This use of myth is further observed by Tismaneanu, who states that ‘[t]he principal function of myth is not to describe but to imagine a reality in accordance with certain political interests’ (Tismaneanu, 1998: 9), making myth ‘ideology in narrative form’ (Lincoln, 1999: xii).

Myth has several characteristics which define and set it apart from similar concepts, such as discourse and narrative. A myth has an intrinsic temporal aspect – a timeline – which is required to make a whole story, as all myths have both a past and a future (Munz, 1973). Myth is the dialectic of past and future, where beginning and end incessantly inform the middle (Ricour, 1986). But while time is a crucial element to myth it is not set within it but rather continuously transforms as an ever-expanding past and an unlimited number of futures unravel. The importance of time separates the concept of myth from the concept of discourse, and by some definitions from that of narrative, where events can be scattered throughout time and where, even more importantly, there can be no end in sight.

The timeline and the fact that myth has a beginning, middle, and end is furthermore vital for the second of myth’s fundamentals: conversion or transformation and, preferably, transcendence. Coupe (1997) presents five myth paradigms within which he states most myths can be found – the fertility myth, the creation myth, the myth of deliverance, the hero myth, and the literary myth – all of which entail fundamental changes in the lives of the involved characters. The change can be for the better, i.e. if the characters are honourable, stoic, and true at heart, or for the worse, i.e. if they turn their backs on the righteous path, betray, or behave in an otherwise generally poor manner. But no matter what the outcome, change over time is a crucial component to the concept of myth.

Myth is inherently Manichean and as such embodies the eternal struggle between good and evil. Lévi-Strauss (1966, 1978) suggests classification in terms of opposition to be an innately human way of thinking, e.g. in the binary oppositions of culture/nature, right/wrong, or yin/yang. The specific duality of good and evil is deeply dependent on the notion of fear, fear of what will happen to you if you disobey the moral of the myth or if you are on the wrong side of good. Myths are saturated with our most vehement fears and violent emotions, yet at the same time they provide a way to label and express these fears and, with that, ways to avoid them from being realised (Cassirer, 1946). Myths, therefore, both express and help us cope with our fears, what Malinowski (1954) calls ‘the psychological factor’, i.e. myth as a dampener of anxiety. Hall (2006) further states that fear needs to be named in order to be effective, as an evil without a name is an enemy we cannot fight and without an antagonist the protagonist would appear rather odd, much like Don Quixote fighting windmills. Through the identification and naming of good and evil, myth provides an enemy (economic recession, ISIS, greenhouse gas, neoliberalism), makes you the protagonist, and ensures obedience to the sense moral of the myth in the fear of the unthinkable alternative.

Finally, it should be noted that myth emphasises the crucial, but often overlooked, role of the storyteller. Kearney (2002) is one of the few to accentuate this element and to remind us that myths are not told by a non-entity. Like Arundhati Roy’s keeper of the stories, the storyteller ‘tells stories of the gods, but his yarn is spun from the ungodly, human heart’ (Roy, 1997: 219).

3 Myth and the process of naturalisation

One of the most, if not the most, fundamental processes of myth is that of naturalisation, a function related to that of emplotment (White, 1973). The first step in the process of emplotment is for events to be placed in a chronological order – A happened before B which, in turn, happened before C. Second, these events are given an internal connection – A led to B which then led to C. The repetition of corresponding plots (where similar events are given similar chronological orders and with similar results) can create the notion that these events are naturally interconnected – when A occurs, B and later C will follow. A pattern of reference is created which can be invoked to sanction ideology as naturalised common sense. The extraordinary power of the naturalised lies in the fact that it can go unquestioned and unchallenged and that myth ‘creates an intellectual and cognitive monopoly in that it seeks to establish the sole way of ordering the world and defining world-views’ (Schöpflin and Hosking, 1997: 19). Similarly, Hall asserts that myths hold ‘authority by recognition, authority by “common sense”, or authority by compatibility with the greater world’ (Hall, 2006: 5). The very principle of myth is that it transforms history into nature as ‘myth is constituted by the loss of the historical quality of things; in it, things lose the memory that they once were made’ (Barthes, 1972: 142), making the myth ‘a statement of facts’ (1972: 143).

Transforming history into nature requires neologism – ‘ephemeral concepts, in connection with limited contingencies’ (Barthes, 1972: 121). Similar to the Newspeak of George Orwell (1949), the mythical language of Barthes is robbed of its meaning, creating an impoverished and deliberately distorted language. The effect of this function is synergetic, that is, the more often the plot or myth is repeated, the stronger and more steadfast it becomes. This recurrence is stated by Barthes as the major power of myth (Barthes, 1972).

The naturalised can be conveyed by many means, most commonly through symbols including language and pictures. A mere reference to the myth is sufficient for society’s members to recall the complete plot (Schöpflin and Hosking, 1997), e.g. a picture of two men in posh suits, shaking hands and smiling contentedly, may induce the myth of global neoliberalisation. Events become plotted in much the same way as the language; the formation of a story requires a poetic act as well as a chronological one (White, 1973). A certain event seems to naturally follow another to the extent that we can fill in the next step without actively considering it, in much the same manner as language. We (deceptively) instinctively fill in the next step in our minds, just as we may instinctively finish the line once upon a….

4 Truth as a non-issue

A most central point for the discussion of myth is the assertion that a myth is not false by definition. A myth performs when it is held tenaciously by its adherents; its reality is assumed, but not necessarily or entirely false. Segal, using the words of English child psychiatrist D. W. Winnicott, states that myth in this sense is the adult’s game of make-believe (Segal, 2004). Just as a child holds on to a physical object – e.g. a teddy bear – an adult holds on to an internalised object – an interest, value or myth – that enables them to deal with a much wider world. They know the myth isn’t necessarily reality, but adhere to it as if it were.

The purpose of the myth, then, is not to offer metaphysical truths, as its content may be irrational and possibly untrue (Overing, 1997). Rather, it works as a sticking plaster for the social structure. It provides ‘a symbolic statement about the social order and as such it reinforces social cohesion and functional unity by presenting and justifying the traditional order’ (Overing, 1997: 7). Whether the facts presented by the myth are verifiably true or not is irrelevant – its value is metaphorical and its function social as it legitimises social structures and actions. Myth, so to speak, is a way of creating ‘cosmos out of chaos’ (Overing, 1997: 10), making truth and its properties ‘non-issues’ (Hall, 2006: 5). What is important is that the myth is believed in to the point where it holds influence over how its adherents live their daily lives (Hall, 2006). Hall further draws on this element of belief when defining myth as:

a story which is believed to be true by a group of people and which in general terms provides building blocks for this group’s efforts in defining meaning, a purpose, and a collective identity. Myths, then, serve as the frame into which other phenomena are fitted and then interpreted. (Hall, 2006: 2)

In order for the myth to gain power, then, it isn’t required to be believed in literally but rather that the form or format of the myth is one recognisable or relatable to its audience. The plot of the myth needs to be easily understood and adopted as correct by virtue of common sense, a decision made by and large by its relation to its society. This view finds support in the works of Schöpflin and Hosking, who state:

Myths is one of the ways in which collectivities…establish and determine their own being, their own system of morality and values. In this sense, therefore, myth is a set of beliefs, usually put forth as a narrative, held by a community about itself. (Schöpflin and Hosking, 1997: 19)

This assertion is further supported by Bruner (1960), who states that the power of the myth lies in that ‘it lives on the feather line between fantasy and reality. It must be neither too good nor too bad to be true, nor must it be too true’ (Bruner, 1960: 271). Edelman similarly asserts that myth is ‘an unquestioned belief held in common by a large group of people that gives particular meaning to events and actions’ (Edelman, 1971: 53). Consistency is created through communication and action by which the myth creates allegiance on the basis of social identification (Schöpflin and Hosking, 1997).

A myth, therefore, is dependent on belief. Yet, although scholars of myth often assert the importance of belief at the expense of ‘truth’, it should be made abundantly clear that this in no way rejects the notion (and facts) of reality. Myth theory does not deny the factual, the tangible, the real, but rather suggests that the world we live in and our experiences of it are not one and the same, and that these experiences are influenced by ideas of the world as they are communicated through language, symbols, myths. It is not the function of the myth to make disappear that which we see, but to influence (Barthes would say distort) the way in which we see it.