What Makes Humans Inventive?人类因何而创造？

张爽

Two new books probe the evolutionary roots of creativity.兩本新书探讨创造力的进化根源。

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.

科学是否会毁坏美好？英国浪漫主义诗人约翰·济慈认为如此。当艾萨克·牛顿爵士将太阳光分解成日光七色时，济慈写道，其效果好比“拆掉了一道彩虹”。一旦对彩虹的出现进行了解释，其神秘和光泽就都消失无踪了。认为科学和艺术是截然不同、互不相容的两种文明的观点经久不衰。两本新书似乎直指问题的核心：人类的创造力。

《创造力的起源》的作者、88岁高龄的爱德华·威尔逊是哈佛大学生物学泰斗。他的专业是蚁学——研究蚂蚁。就一本篇幅不长的书来说，《创造力的起源》中充满巧思，而其中很多都游离于书名之外，这正是威尔逊常见的著书风格。然而，书中的一切终究都与遗传学和进化以及认为文明和创造力有基因根源的观点有关。

威尔逊先生将创造力的起源追溯到非洲大草原上的人类史前史。人类的祖先一度是迟钝的、相对不合群的素食者。威尔逊先生认为，人类创造力的关键一步是开始吃肉。这意味着人们不得不成群结队去打猎，进而越来越习惯群居：人们必须在狩猎时进行合作，并分享成果。这一变化促进了交流方式和社会智能的显著进化。最终，通过自然选择，符号语言形成了。就这样，人文学科就在故事的讲述和“人类最早宿营地夜间的火光”之中诞生了。

这个版本的大事记相对简单。更有争议的是威尔逊先生接下来想把读者引向何方。在他看来，今天的人文学科是停滞的、狭隘的，受阻于对自身进化根源的无知。他认为，人文学科的复兴在于“五大学科”：古生物学、人类学、心理学、进化生物学和神经生物学。通过研究这些不同的领域，科学家将会把美学和文化进化与对它们进行解释的基础性遗传进化联系起来。因此，威尔逊先生会将杰出的遗传学家特奥多修斯·多布任斯基的信条“生物学中没有什么是有意义的，除非从进化的角度来看”扩展为“科学和人文学科中没有什么是有意义的，除非从进化的角度来看”。威尔逊先生关注的是创造力的起源，而作曲家安东尼·勃兰特和神经学家戴维·伊格尔曼在《失控的物种》中关注的则是创造行为。这本书明确而充分地论证了一个观点：创造力绝不是憑空创造出来的东西。相反，人们是在有意识或无意识地重塑事物。主要由三种方式实现：改造、重组和混合。改造指取出某物并改变其性质。重组指拆开一个整体，然后拼凑出新的东西。混合是以新的方式配置多种资源。

《失控的物种》不乏这样的例子。重组的例子有立体主义、鸟枪法测序和电影蒙太奇。混合的例子有弥诺陶和美人鱼、基因拼接和克里奥尔语。改造的例子有人造心脏。起初，科学家尽可能细致入微地复制心脏，包括心脏的跳动等。但是心脏跳动会导致磨损，而且没有必要这样做，因为心脏只需要泵血。如今，需要移植的病人接受的就是连续流动式的心脏装置。（实际上，71岁时接受心脏移植手术的迪克·切尼自2010年以来心脏就没有跳动过了。）

某种程度上，济慈是对的：以科学审视艺术，会让人感觉像是在解剖。不过，这两本书都避开了这种风险。威尔逊先生和伊格尔曼先生本身既是科学家又是小说家——他们现身说法地解开了这两种不同文化不能相融的悖论。《创造力的起源》和《失控的物种》在探索创造力时既合乎科学，又心思缜密，在不把它们连根拔起的情况下触碰它们的根源。

（译者为“《英语世界》杯”翻译大赛获奖者;单位：南京大学外国语学院）