“When you hit a wrong note, it's the next one that makes it good or bad.”
– Miles Davis.1
Moments before beginning to write this, I used my internet search engine to see if aformal is a word in common usage. It turns out it is not, and that’s a shame. I want to help introduce the word into English, because I think it is an incredibly useful word. So let us begin to explore what aformal generative dialogue may be by first getting familiar with what I mean by aformal.
Aformal means something different from the very ordinary and common word, informal, which Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines as “marked by the absence of formality or ceremony” and “characteristic of or appropriate to ordinary, casual, or familiar use.”
The prefix "a-" generally carries the meaning of "not" or "without" when used in many words. It's commonly used to indicate negation or absence, altering the meaning of the word it's attached to. For instance, "asymmetrical" means "not symmetrical," "amoral" means "lacking moral principles," and "apolitical" means "not involved in politics."
I’m using aformal to mean "lacking formal structure”. The word needn’t be put in italics, which I have done here — so far — merely to point out that it’s the word I’m referring to, rather than what the word is meant to refer to. That is, it is a spelled out thing and the sounds that spelling imply. Henceforth I’ll just use aformal, to avoid unnecessary confusions about italics.
My primary motivation for coining the phrase “aformal generative dialogue” was to return the phrase “generative dialogue” to a generic sense, so that folks won’t think I’m referring to the “generative dialogue” concept as it is described and explained by Otto Scharmer, who has popularized this phrase. Rather, I mean these two words to mean just what they do in any dictionary — a topic I’ll get to soon.
That said, I have a secondary purpose for naming a practice aformal generative dialogue, which is to provide a means of indicating an idea which can belong to all of us who want to employ this idea, meaning it can be applied generically and openly, not in a way which restricts the idea to my formulation of it. Nevertheless, I intend the three words in aformal generative dialogue to mean together something generic, rather than something arcane and special of my own invention. When I say things about it, I mean what the words themselves mean: aformal generative dialogue. And if I theorize about it, or share ideas about it, that’s all I’m doing. I’m sharing my thoughts about it. I’m not the owner of the idea; we all are. It’s yours to do with what you will, but the idea of it belongs to our language, not some formal idea as property. Gawed forbid that anyone would trademark it!
Aformal needn’t mean “utterly and completely without form,” but can be a word intended to reference one end of a spectrum — the aformal end. Whenever I think of ideas of form and formlessness, I tend to conclude that these two exist in relation to one another rather similarly to how yin and yang are said to exist in relation in Taoist philosophy, as represented by the modern yin-yang symbol.
That is, there is always a mutual entanglement between “form” and “formlessness”. There is no way to break the relationship — at least not in or with language.
In Buddhism’s Heart Sutra are the words -
”Form is emptiness and emptiness is form.
Emptiness does not differ from form, form does not differ from emptiness, whatever is emptiness, that is form.”
In this context, the word “emptiness” basically means formlessness. The paradoxical notion being pointed to is an insight without formal form. That is, the insight cannot be grasped and pinned down because there is no form available to contain it. This insight is close kin to the Taoist one which says “The Tao which can be spoken is not the eternal (or ultimate) Tao.” Language itself has form, and to speak of the formless is to entangle formlessness with (and within) form. And there really isn’t much more we can actually say on the matter, as language cannot offer us the notion—or experience—of formlessness at all.
Aformal generative dialogue of the sort which most interests me is entangled with an intention not to be trapped by forms of every kind, and among these are conceptual schemas and habits of thought — which enable any sort of dialogue to take shape — to take form, to dance within and between us. The crucial insight I’d offer in this context is that to make use of form is not at all (at least not necessarily) to be trapped by it. Improvisational jazz musicians make a great deal of use of musical form, but at their best they exhibit a profound freedom from the forms embodied in musical habits and traditions. In fact, most any great jazz musician will tell you that the moments of music-making which they love the most are those moments when the normal ‘rules’ of music are broken (dispensed with, transcended), but they are broken in ways which make perfect, delicious, delightful musical sense.
So, as a commentator on the notion of aformal generative dialogue, I want to say that my intention in such dialogue is to bring to dialogue the most liberating spirit of free and open jazz.
Aformal generative dialogue’s function or purpose may be said to be mainly to generate liberating potentials, to facilitate creativity and innovation.
But we don’t want to limit it to this purpose or function, which would be to limit it to a formal purpose—to domesticate it in the constraining sense of this word. Any limitations or constraints we impose upon aformal generative dialogue risks reducing the practice to a tepid and mere formality, formalism, a definitive set of rules, regulations, procedures — and to fence it in like cows, chickens or sheep. This aformal kind of dialogue is best found in the borderlands between domestication and the wild, but if we must err, let us err on the wild side. As Henry David Thoreau put it, “In wildness is the preservation of the world”. A corollary statement might be, “In domestication is the destruction of the world.” But let us also acknowledge that there can be no wildness without some domestication, nor vice versa. At its very best, domestication is saturated with the virtues of wildness. But if we must err, let’s get a little bit too wild.
In the realm of creativity, generativity refers to the ability to generate new ideas, solutions, or creative outputs. It involves the capacity to produce original and valuable concepts or artifacts, ideas or insights — and with these new praxes.
Generative dialogue is, I would say, at its best generative potential when it dwells just outside of all forms of domestication, but near enough to the domestic that it doesn’t make a damned fool of itself. It’s good to be a fool. Don’t get me wrong. But to be a damned fool is not a good thing. It’s dangerous and useless, and so we need some proximity to the known, the familiar, the habitual, the domesticated, the form bound…. And — once again — it is better to risk being a damned fool on the wild side than a damned fool on the domestic end of of the spectrum. This practice is not for the feint of heart, nor well-suited to those who will not suffer the slings and arrows of growing an alive, much less domesticated imagination.
To be feint of heart is to lack the courage to face a dangerous situation. Wildness is a dangerous situation. Fire is a dangerous situation. Life itself is a dangerous situation.
Take a walk on the wild side.
And if you must be a damned fool in doing so, sometimes, we will forgive you — provided you have not ruined dinner.
I will conclude, for now, with the topic of dialogue. But I will conclude with a promise to come back to all of the topics and themes here in a later posting, perhaps a sort of Part Two of what’s happening here today. I may even write at length about dialogue. Dialogue is one of the most valuable and important of topics there is! I am deeply, profoundly reverential toward dialogue. I see dialogue as a far, far more valuable and important practice than most people in “my culture” (whatever the hell that means) imagine it to be. As someone rather new to an explicit embrace of virtue ethics, I regard the practice of dialogue itself as among the most important of virtues, if not its most important one.
Dialogue is a kind of fine art, an art which requires diligent, reverential practice to develop well. And I’m not that damned good at it, because I live in “America” (USA) in the 21st century, and we’re crap at dialogue here. Our cultural practice of communication is monologue — narcissistic monologue, at that. It’s pathetic. I’m sorry. We’re monologists because we have this absurd myth of the Grand Hero, who in isolation (pulling himself up by his own bootstraps), without the aid of others, manages to manufacture for himself (He really is usually a guy) a lever with which to move the whole world. It’s terribly embarrassing. I’m sorry, again. (But you women who sincerely believe I’m “mainsplaining,” in all kindness—, go suck an egg.)
I think of dialogue itself (Herself is better!) as a teacher, and perhaps the best — most generous and generative — of all possible teachers — but only when entered into with a sincere reverence for dialogue as one’s teacher. And I don’t want to do my revered teacher a disservice by assuming I know and understand my teacher, and can therefore represent Her wishes and virtues. I cannot. I bow down to this teacher in reverence, knowing I’m a novice, and often a damned fool.
But I do know one thing about dialogue which I will share, since my teacher has made it clear to me that this is the case. We humans, individually and alone, outside of dialogue, are pathetically ignorant. We are trapped inside of our beliefs, attitudes, assumptions, biases…. In our isolation, we are walking examples of the formal and habitual. And, indeed, we are walking examples of this in most of what passes for “dialogue” outside of the practice of dialogue I’m trying to evoke in this essay, if indeed it is an essay. We’re imaginatively domesticated animals! We think we know more than we do. And dialogue — genuine dialogue — reveals us as small-minded, constrained and domesticated. We repeat habits of thought that we’ve not actually put to any reasonable test for validity or truth, or adequacy. It’s what we do. We’re living inside fences. We’re a lot like chickens and goats on the farm, sans the “free range” logo we’d prefer to attach to ourselves.
Okay, now I’m feeling a little frisky and a little wild. So I’ll just stop here with a promise to offer more when I’m in “my right mind”.
Oh, and. This is all about politics. I want to write about dialogue as politics and politics as dialogue. Yes, I’m feeling a bit wild here! Here I come! I’m gonna risk being a damned fool.
Thanks to David Cooper for reminding me of this lovely quote from the history of jazz.
I heard an interview with Nora Bateson recently- she has a new book.
What you seem to be gesturing towards reminds me of that conversation.
I have to admit I struggle to “get it”: think I must be pretty domesticated...!
I’m excited to hear where you go with it though. I salute your courage.
I like your jazz analogy. I’m reminded of the Miles Davis quote “ There’s no such thing as a bum note - it’s the note you play next that’s important “
Love this! I hope you continue the ... wild dialogue.
Also, one of the things I like to do for fun is write code to create generative art. It is exactly as you describe here. It is writing code that will create something just outside of the expected and predictable, but not so far outside that it generates a random mess.