Why Study Art History?

The humanities are constantly being undercut due to a modern preference of STEM fields. What have we lost in that process, and how do we continue?

Since the mid-20th century, the study of the humanities has been on a steep, yet steady decline. Encompassed within the field are the fine arts, art history, history, literature, music, and most of all, philosophy. A multitude of reasons have been conjured by politicians, schoolboards, university regents, and others to cut funding in favor of STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math) fields, but all are formulated in a base ignorance of the nature of science.

The desire to do so is born of a number of interwoven factors, which stem from a bottomless pit of excuses as to why the natural sciences ought to be given precedence. The concluding statements to these excuses often take the form of a stream of consciousness, and typically include a sudden exaltation regarding the gravity of science vs. the frivolity of the humanities.

But what is science? Is it restricted to engineering, biology, math, and so on? Or has the word been completely robbed of its meaning? If you find yourself believing that science pertains only to the people in white coats examining patients, animals, plants, or space, then stick around.

What is Science?

The English word science is derived from the Latin scientia, meaning knowledge. However, knowledge is not limited to technology, engineering, or mathematics. Knowledge encompasses a vast array of subjects that are observable and ascertainable—including the humanities. In German, the term is Wissenschaft, literally meaning knowledgeship. This term can be modified by adding the terms Natur, meaning nature, or Geist, meaning spirit. Thus the terms Naturwissenschaft for the natural sciences, and Geisteswissenschaft for the humanities (literally science of the mind).

However, the critical point is that Wissenschaft remains at the core of each term and the differentiation is a matter of subject rather than mutually exclusive categories, like in English. Unfortunately, the artificial differentiation linguistically drawn through the sciences has achieved only one thing—a limitation of inquiry and knowledge by neglecting the other half.

Inquiry is driven by curiosity, and curiosity is birthed from one’s nature or one’s nurture. Some people are naturally curious, whereas others need to be trained. Training and honing curiosity is the business of the humanities through philosophical study. Were the Greek mathematicians not first philosophers? Philosophy, by its very definition, is the study of the love of wisdom, and without it, there is neither an understanding of love, nor of wisdom.

The False Dichotomy between Science and the Humanities

The love of wisdom has been pursued by countless individuals, most of whom find themselves somewhere on the spectrum between Saint Albert the Great and Doktor Faust—between the pursuit for understanding the eternal vs. the pursuit of amplifying one’s own pride.

If we were to examine the greatest lovers of wisdom—or dare I say scientists—throughout history, we should expect to stumble into the realm of the humanities where the philosophers dwell. These great philosophers include the likes of Sir Isaac Newton, Leonardo da Vinci, and saints like Hildegard of Bingen and Thomas Aquinas, among others.

On occasion, a polymath has emerged from the smog of 19th century industry and the cement earth of the 20th century, like a seed planted among the rocks, but they are few and far between and rarely do they measure up quite to the level of their predecessors.

The Cosmic Man from the Liber Divinorum Operum by Hildegard von Bingen, who connected to the eternal with the temporal. Essentially an artistic explanation of the et-et principle.

These selected few are not Einstein or Hawking, for to earn the laurels of a true philosopher, one must love wisdom. In Einstein’s own words:

It has often been said, and certainly not without justification, that the man of science is a poor philosopher.

In other words, most scientists of his day lacked wisdom. Hawking even claimed that philosophy has not kept up with physics and is practically dead. Neither claimed to be philosophers, and at times even spited philosophy. Both men made the critical mistake of assuming that philosophers were not scientists and that they necessarily occupy different realms.

Now, contrast these statements with someone like Niels Bohr who, despite receiving the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1922 for quantum theory, identified first as a philosopher. Even his former student, Werner Heisenberg, who fell into the vice-laden world of natural science disconnected from philosophy during the Second World War, came around later in life to focus more on philosophy and theology.

To their credit, none of these men invented an atomic bomb or some other weapon of mass destruction, though all of them knew how. They at least had the minimal philosophical training to anticipate the effects downstream of what they might cause, and stop while they were ahead—which was wise.

Sadly, that was not the case with men like J. Robert Oppenheimer, who perhaps anticipated the effects, but did nothing to restrain himself. After all, a lack of wisdom is the hallmark of modern STEM lobbies.

Medieval philosophers were trained to think at all times of the downstream effects, not just to the end of their lifetime or future generations, but how their actions and discoveries pertained to eternity. They sought wisdom on a daily basis, because they were aware of their own deficiency.

Their studies began with the trivium (grammar, logic, and rhetoric), followed by the quadrivium (arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music). Throughout that period, they had formal training in moral philosophy, and only after this intense period could they enter into the professional realms of law, medicine, or theology. This system guaranteed that those responsible for the vitality of the body, mind, and soul were trained in all three.

Modern education has inherited this incredible legacy of Western education: Greek philosophy and Roman law, paired with their developments of the trivium, the quadrivium and ecclesiastical meticulosity of the Middle Ages to unite ancient learning with divine revelation into systems of hermeneutics (interpreting texts and language), the organic development of architecture, the vast literary world, etc.

Our modern educational systems have inherited all this, like a family heirloom passed from one generation to the next. And, like most trends in this modern world of ours, the educational systems have clumsily lost their footing, swiftly shattering that legacy.

The Current State

The remains of that legacy are strewn about, but that does not mean it cannot be reassembled. The STEM fields, in particular, view it as a relic of the past—as do many sociologists, anthropologists, and even some historians. Many professors and teachers share a certain fondness for this unique legacy, but are under the impression that nothing can be done, and like a funeral ship floating off into the distance, they simply wave it goodbye.

Some of the modern fields in the humanities attempt to address the lack of philosophical grounding by implementing coursework dedicated to the classics, moral teaching, ethics, and so on. However, more often than not, it is snuffed out by a lack of support from the universities. Formal training is gone. Studying the languages that contained the volumes of data over centuries is now limited to a select few who deem it worthwhile to learn Greek and Latin, often to the dismay of their families and acquaintances.

STEM fields train their students into pursuing questions of the physical realm, but rarely do they step foot in the metaphysical one. They understand the behavior of bacteria, organs, and motors, but do they actually understand people and their relation to technology? Is there any training regarding ethics or moral philosophy? Are they actively taught that everyone is deficient and must therefore seek the extent of one’s knowledge? Or are they routinely told that they are the smartest among us? We all know the answers to these questions.

The field of medicine is particularly suited to bridge the gap between the physical and metaphyiscal. Some medical doctors have used their training to understand the entirety of the patient, examining their background, choices, and the context of their lives. By doing so, they come closer to the ideal than most—far exceeding the surgeon who simply operates, waiting with bated breath for a monumental paycheck. Or the engineer who crafts advanced weapons that destroy countless lives only to return to a luxurious home.

Psychologists have taken on the mantel of bridging that gap as well, though more often than not, they exclude the soul, focusing only on the mind (i.e. spirit). Although the spirit binds the body and the soul, only the soul is eternal. Navigating the waters of the spirit can lead to many places, but a doctor without a philosophical background will not be able to differentiate between the Jordan and the Acheron.

So, What About Art History?

The medieval structure of education created polymaths en masse. These philosophers had extensive networks that included architects, painters, and sculptors who created magnificent works that continue to fascinate. They cultivated a communal knowledge that was predicated upon the desire for the eternal, and to that end, to produce things of beauty.

Unfortunately, the lack wisdom in our society that is fascinated with STEM, has moved into an era in which beauty is neither a goal nor a byproduct. Cities are no longer adorned with intricate facades, finely crafted lampposts, and cobbled streets. Instead it is all cement and steel, void of beauty and soul.

Fortunately, many remnants of the past contain an intrinsic beauty untarnished by the passing of time. These mysterious relics are the inhabitants of museums, they occupy hill-tops and city centers, and some have bells that still entrance us through the cleansing effect of their sound waves. That legacy is all around us, encoded in art and architecture—the eternity of the soul imbued into the physical world around us.

It is the task of the art historian to discover these connections, techniques, and ideas like a detective scouring a crime scene for evidence. The art historian must therefore step into the past, learn the immense depths of context, and study these objects in person in order to draw proper interpretations about our heritage and culture—hardly a frivolous task.

Together with the archaeologists, historians, literary scholars, philosophers, and theologians, they carry the torch through the vacuous cavern of our modern age, slowly piecing together that lost legacy, and thus constantly seeking the extent of their knowledge.