What Is Narrative Intelligence?

Telling stories is the most efficient form of education. Loose data without emotion are not memorable, but an anecdote well-told triggers emotions in us that cause the mind to wake up, concentrate and commit to the story.

What Is Narrative Intelligence?
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Reading time 8 minutes

“We are the stories we tell. A bad story can sink us and a good one, save us.”

Men and women tell who they are through language. We add prayers and chapters to our story, seeking transformations that guarantee our presence on this planet. Human history, man’s odyssey to dominate nature or the path of civilization, has titles for the steps in the adventure that, as a species, we undertook no less than a hundred thousand years ago. In each period, a footprint of our walk is encrypted in our communication media, through Rosetta Stone, radio and television, and Netflix. 

Telling stories is the most efficient form of education. Loose data without emotion are not memorable, but an anecdote from a protagonist taking risks on an adventure that changes his reality triggers emotions in us that cause the mind to wake up, concentrate, and commit to the story. Hopefully, if the narrator is intelligent, the story will be unforgettable. That is precisely the topic I address in this article: narrative intelligence. It serves to captivate the reader or listener, but the first one seduced must be the narrator who constructs his story every morning. We are the stories we tell. A bad story can sink us, and a good one saves us. Think, what story inspired you to move forward in difficult times like losing a loved one or the pandemic? What story did you tell yourself and your students so that you can heroically and quickly adapt your course to a screen?

“The concept of narrative intelligence puts the power of the story at the center of what it means to be effective in all areas of our existence, extending beyond the concepts of intellectual and emotional intelligence.”

One of my favorite storytellers is historian Yuval Noah Harari. Ever since I read his book Sapiens, I have been captivated by how he proves that stories make us human. We can create collective intelligence; for this, a framework is required, a form of filiation, in short, a narrative. We unite, starting from religion, a shared project; in short, we are characters in a more extensive history that we call family, company, or nation. We are Homo narrare: loosely translated as “human narrator.” Our aptitude as storytellers distinguishes our species more definitively than our reasoning ability or emotional capacity. The historian argues that our predominance over the other species inhabiting our planet is based on our talent for telling and grouping events into a narrative. Since we learned to speak, storytelling has been our most powerful tool. There is no construction, war, enterprise, or government not starting from a story.

In 2020, there were 7,818 suicides in our country, representing 0.7% of the total deaths and a suicide rate of 6.2 per 100,000 inhabitants. The group that suffers most from self-affliction is young people between 18 and 29. Suicide is a public health problem that fractures the family story, a wound that remains forever (INEGI, 2021).

Citing a survey in their book Story Intelligence, Richard Stone and Scott Livengood argue that four out of ten people do not discover a fulfilling life purpose, and a quarter does not have a strong sense of what makes life meaningful. This capability is called Narrative Intelligence (Stone and Livengood, 2021). History determines almost everything we perceive, feel, and do consciously. When we are unclear about our vital meaning, we cannot walk into the future.

“We are united by memories, myths, national history, and a thousand and one stories more.”

For his part, Boris Cyrulnik, a French neurologist and psychiatrist known as the “father of resilience” (the ability to overcome difficult moments and grow), affirms that this quality comes from the ability to sublimate pain through artistic creation. In his work with victims, the narrative is the primary tool.

Increasing our narrative intelligence (NI) is, in my opinion, the most crucial competency to develop in our current world. Times of crisis provide the critical moments that reformulate and change history. We know this from the narrative: He who does not know how to be the author of his own story will lose his meaning.

NI has a strong correlation with Emotional Intelligence (EI), a concept that Daniel Goleman first popularized nearly thirty years ago. Being in touch with our emotions is the first step. The second is to order facts, events, and experiences to give them meaning. Thus, narrative intelligence is summarized in the equation: NI (Narrative Intelligence) = EI (Emotional Intelligence) + IQ (Intelligence Quotient).

Narrative intelligence applies the compelling power of history in all our existence, going beyond intellectual and emotional intelligence. It is not enough to perceive, understand, use, and manage our emotions. Our ability to function effectively in the twenty-first century depends on mastering the innate characteristic to reconstruct history in the face of a changing world. We must be willing to unlearn and relearn as technology and living conditions change on the planet, which is why UNESCO proclaims that human beings in the twenty-first century are permanent apprentices. New knowledge expands our world; we must reformulate our history in the face of this. As teachers, we are live proof that our history is open and rapidly changing.

“The future presents us with thousands of unreleased episodes, but our narrative mind rehearses them to choose from; in that previous attack, what will be the most convenient route?”

The authors of Story intelligence propose seven powers or talents derived from narrative to develop narrative intelligence. I will try to tell a story to exemplify some of these capabilities.

1. The ability to transport

Sofia enters a movie theater. She follows the plot of a charming man who falls in love with a “princess” and begins to love the characters. The couple gets married and has a son. Sofia forgets for a moment about her life. She suffers when the protagonists have been separated. It is the time of World War II, and they are Jews. The mother is taken to a concentration camp. Sofia cries because she feels the pain of the family separation. She cries differently than when she mourns the death of her grandmother. (Something in her mind knows there is some distance between the movie and her personal life, but her hurt is evident). The father and the child go to a different concentration camp. With singular integrity, the father dares to translate the terrible instructions of the guard playfully so that his son does not suffer. Guido invents a game, a kind of story so that his son can survive that horrible prison. Indeed, you have guessed the movie I am talking about: “Life is Beautiful.” Sofia leaves the movie room after having been Guido’s accomplice. Even after the lights come on, she will continue to think about Guido’s ingenuity and courage. Do you think this story will help her life? It not only transported her to another time but also another reality. She is sure to find a way to use those tools when adversity knocks on her door.

2. The ability to communicate

Once, a boy named Hans grew up in a very poor family. His mother prostituted his sister to earn an income. To endure the real world, the boy told stories. He imagined a match seller’s poverty and the desire of a mermaid in love, but his best story tells of a duck that transformed into a swan. His ability to communicate gave him hope and standing. Neurologist Cyrulnik tells us how the Danish author overcame orphanhood thanks to his ability to communicate his pain in his children’s stories. Cyrulnik tells us about the path of a story: Our emotions associated with what we have experienced begin to manifest as symptoms in the body. He calls it the “pre-story specialist:” a wise personal communication is articulated from consciousness, in disordered ideas that begin to gestate an intimate story. Later that story finds words and is shared with someone, a friend or therapist, perhaps, and finally, the story can become a technological object.

Let us think of a love or aversion story. I know someone, and every time I see him, I feel butterflies in my stomach; I know someone, but I wouldn’t say I like their attitude, and I am afraid. The body begins to tell us, like ants scattering for refuge, emotions are concentrated in ideas, and we have the solitary story; I tell myself that I am in love or danger. Then the words arise, seeking to be put in common with others to be validated: I must tell someone; I have a story in common. If the story grows in me, I write, paint, make a film, and transform it into a narrative, an event that becomes collective and a technological artifact. It is no longer just mine. Let us think of a work of art, a novel, or a painting representing an era, a nation, other things. If we do not communicate, we do not exist, so we communicate to subsist, transmit, and survive.

3. To enable learning

At this point, you are all experts. Can you tell me a story you used to spark learning? The unique story that I keep in my memory was how I comprehended the series Cosmos: the Evolution of Species. The narrative of an aquatic being that evolves to become human has been parodied even by the Simpsons, proving the narrative force of that microhistory that, together with the concept of the cosmic year, managed to make accessible complicated topics for the child’s mind. I also remember all the science my daughters learned from the story of a mad scientist, a giant rat, and his assistant. Beakman’s world filled their minds with narratives and experiments that let us share the greatness of nature.

Every time I learn about a new country, I love being told by a good guide, literally walking through the streets full of stories that a good storyteller makes endearing. For example, the singular presence of Hercules in Spain is because Alfonso X the Wise wanted to link the history of his nation with that of the Greek hero. Thus, the flag columns represent the separation between southern Spain and North Africa to reach Cádiz more easily, where he had pending work. Curiosity led me to look for all the references of the hero for that land, which helped me delve into its history and geography. The most important thing is that I safeguard those fables with special affection.

4. To create meaning

On a beach two years ago, I was given fateful news: my 16-year-old nephew had taken his life. A year later, on the same beach and almost the same date, my sister, his mother, did not know how to recount the story without him and decided to take her life as well. Two months after the pandemic, my brother became seriously ill and decided to follow them. Since then, I have begun to write their stories, seeking to make sense. Today I know that being able to tell it, put words to it, pull the pain from me, and share it helps me move forward, give meaning to their presence and sudden absence in my life, and love life even more. I find my position in those stories so I can continue with mine.

5. To transform

I think we can use all the above stories to notice that “live” is a verb and that every protagonist who confronts adversity is transformed for better or worse. However, it is never the same, so a story that can be inspiring can lead us or give guidelines for the way.

6. To unite

We can give a thousand answers to the philosophical question “Who are we?”. Perhaps the most accurate is the one that places us in context with others: I am the son of, the mother of, the teacher of –we are a story conjugated with a thousand others, a fabric in which we are a point in a more extraordinary tapestry woven together by our histories. It reminds us of the grim reapers or grayas who removed from the spinning wheel a thread representing the life of a human being. The thread was, at one point, knotted to another and, thus, humanity was woven together, as in the painting “Embroidering the Earth’s Mantle” by Remedios Varo. Memories unite us, myths, national history, a thousand and one stories unite us.

7. To visualize possibilities

Thinking about the future means recovering a palette of memories to create a prototype. Before undertaking an adventure, we, as the protagonists, dream and imagine. What will I do when I grow up? What will my life be like as a couple? What should be my work? The future presents us with thousands of unreleased episodes, but our narrative mind rehearses them to choose the most convenient route from the previous attack. So the eager beings are told and choose, but much of our day, we take a journey towards some possibility that sometimes arrives. In contrast, others vanish into a personal story that perhaps serves as inspiration.

About the Author

Regina Freyman (regina.freyman@tec.mx) is addicted to stories with words, the body, images, and all media. She knows from experience that the art of telling stories and expressing oneself saves, learning from her parents’ divorce to the painful death of her sister. In search of words, she studied letters at UNAM, specialized in the short story at IBERO, and has 15 years at Tecnologico de Monterrey.

 

Referencias

Cyrulnik, B. (2013). Los Patitos Feos / Ugly Ducklings: La Resiliencia. Una Infancia Infeliz No Determina La Vida. Debolsillo.

Harari, Y. (2015). Sapiens. de Animales a Dioses: Breve Historia de la Humanidad. Debate.

Stone, R. and Livengood, S. (2021). Story Intelligence: Master Story, Master Life. Amazon Books.

Edited by Rubí Román (rubi.roman@tec.mx) – Observatory of Educational Innovation.

Translation by Daniel Wetta.

Profesora Regina Frayman
Regina Freyman

This article from Observatory of the Institute for the Future of Education may be shared under the terms of the license CC BY-NC-SA 4.0