\u201c<\/em>Man is the storytelling animal.\u201d Complex ideas are more easily understood by the mind when presented in the form of stories and metaphors.[2]<\/a> It is thus not surprising to see this fact illustrated in disciplines where complex ideas occupy an important place, like law, philosophy, or political science. The metaphor of the \u201csocial contract\u201d is a good example. It stands for the idea that the political obligations of individuals derive from an initial agreement among them to form the society in which they live.[3]<\/a> This idea is at the heart of modern constitutionalism; it shows how political authority can be linked to individual self-interest and rational consent. However useful the idea of the social contract might be to our understanding of political life, it is not to be taken literally or as an accurate historical account.[4]<\/a> If we still hold on to the social contract, we do so because it helps us to comprehend abstract concepts like constitution<\/em> or society<\/em>. The metaphor of the social contract thus serves as an interpretive framework to make sense of ideas and events. Like all conceptual frameworks, it unconsciously shapes our cognition and reasoning.[5]<\/a><\/p>\n Knowing that metaphors and stories impact our perception and help us reason about ideas and concepts\u2014a large part of our work as jurists\u2014we would be wise to pay attention to them in the realm of law and strive to better understand how they function. For the past thirty years or so, the study of metaphors and stories in the realm of law has been the aim of a number of legal scholars.[6]<\/a> The extensive work that has resulted from this intellectual endeavor\u2014this commitment to looking at law not only as rules and policies but also as stories\u2014is what forms the field of \u201cnarrative scholarship\u201d.[7]<\/a> More broadly, this field is concerned with the use and role of metaphor, myth, and narrative within the realm of law.<\/p>\n While this field of research has prompted the publication of books and a proliferation of academic conferences on the topic in the United States, it has not enjoyed the same rapid expansion north of the border. To be sure, Canadian legal scholars have written in recent years on such various subjects as the weight of storytelling in judicial opinions,[8]<\/a> the poetics of legal doctrine,[9]<\/a> and the subjective character of narration in judgments.[10]<\/a> Others have taken up the task of studying the artistic dimensions of the \u201cconstitutional architecture\u201d metaphor,[11]<\/a> or of showing how this concept can coexist with the \u201cliving tree\u201d.[12]<\/a> Yet, in the Canadian landscape, these few instances are more of the exception than the rule.<\/p>\n It should also be noted that most of what has been written in Canada in this regard has focused primarily on the explicit use of metaphors and narratives in traditional legal discourse. Much less attention has been given to such things as the cultural narratives that shape the development of the law, or to the persuasive power of storytelling in legal practice. Likewise, publications about metaphors in law have been mainly doctrinal, tracing the use of particular metaphors through time, the same way that we study the evolution of a legal principle through case law. Questions about why these devices have exerted such great influence on the development of the law, and why they remain so deeply ingrained in our collective legal imagination have usually been left unanswered.[13]<\/a><\/p>\n The general aim of this article is to shed light on the central role that metaphor and narrative play in shaping how we talk, think, and argue about the Canadian Constitution. It makes the case that two competing types of metaphors\u2014termed dynamic<\/em> and static\u2014<\/em>largely fashion Canadian constitutional law. It will be shown that these two types of metaphors convey different ideas of the Canadian Constitution and, as such, influence the stories we tell about it. In more specific terms, it will be argued that these categories sustain dominant narratives that are similar in structure to \u201cbirth\u201d and \u201crescue\u201d stories. The article will then explore the implications of this finding for scholars and lawyers.<\/p>\n The article is divided into three Parts. The first Part focuses on cognitive science and narrative theory research on how metaphors and narratives shape our cognition. The second Part briefly reviews the basic building blocks of fiction writing and offers an overview of two central plot structures: \u201cbirth\u201d and \u201crescue\u201d stories. The third Part introduces the dynamic<\/em> and static<\/em> metaphors used in relation to Canadian constitutional law, with a focus on the \u201cliving tree\u201d and \u201cconstitutional architecture\u201d metaphors, two prime examples of these categories. The fourth Part explores, through a narrative study of two recent Supreme Court decisions, Saskatchewan Federation of Labour v. Saskatchewan<\/em>[14]<\/a> and the Reference<\/em> Re<\/em> Senate Reform<\/em>,[15]<\/a> how these two types of metaphors influence the stories we tell in relation to the Canadian Constitution. The article then considers what the findings mean for constitutional scholars and jurists generally.<\/p>\n \u201c[The human species] thinks in metaphors and learns through stories.\u201d Historian Louis O. Mink once suggested that narrative is a \u201cprimary cognitive instrument\u2014an instrument rivalled only by theory and by metaphor as irreducible ways of making the flux of experience comprehensible.\u201d[17]<\/a> The following discussion builds on the idea that, for us to truly grasp the role of metaphor and narrative in law, it is useful to first understand the source and nature of their power\u2014to look at the processes at work in our mind when we are told a story or asked to picture concepts in the form of images.<\/p>\n Cognitive researchers claim that the way we think about abstract ideas is, to some extent, metaphorical.[18]<\/a> In this context, the meaning of the term \u201cmetaphor\u201d extends further than a figure of speech whereas a word denoting one idea is used in place of another to suggest an analogy. It stands, broadly, for a way of \u201cconceiving of one thing in terms of another,\u201d[19]<\/a> of \u201cseeing one thing as<\/em> another.\u201d[20]<\/a> In other words, metaphorical thinking works by \u201ctransferring the characteristics, reasoning processes, and outcomes of one domain (the source) onto another (the target).\u201d[21]<\/a> It associates, by a partial analogy, two mutually exclusive conceptual fields.[22]<\/a><\/p>\n It seems worthwhile to illustrate this claim in a way that is familiar to jurists. When thinking about a legal principle, we tend to imagine it \u201cas if it were a sentient being or a concrete thing.\u201d[23]<\/a> In reference to a legal principle, we say that it was set aside<\/em>, that it was weighted <\/em>against other interests, or that it was breached <\/em>or tampered with<\/em>. In doing so, we assign to these abstract ideas characteristics and properties that are usually reserved to concrete things. As a result, we transfer inferences and reasoning processes from the concrete to the abstract world. We thus understand intangible, hard-to-comprehend things through their substitution by a \u201cmentally more immediate object.\u201d[24]<\/a> To borrow the words of Greta Olson, metaphors \u201crender more tangible what has been discovered and needs to be made known.\u201d[25]<\/a><\/p>\n Steven L. Winter tells us that \u201cthese conceptual metaphors are neither arbitrary nor mere products of chance and history.\u201d[26]<\/a> Rather, they arise from our embodied experience, from \u201cour interaction with the social and physical environment.\u201d[27]<\/a> An example of this is the tendency to think in terms of \u201corientational metaphors<\/em>\u201d.[28]<\/a> Such metaphors organize a system of concepts with respect to one another by giving them spatial orientations. The reason we think in such terms is that \u201cwe have bodies of the sort we have and that they function as they do in our physical environment.\u201d[29]<\/a> Thus, from ideas such as \u201cpower is up<\/em>\u201d and \u201csubjection is down<\/em>,\u201d we derive expressions like \u201cbeing on top of <\/em>the situation\u201d or \u201cbeing under <\/em>the control of something.\u201d[30]<\/a> We do the same thing, as jurists, when we speak of the judicial control <\/em>exercised by higher <\/em>courts over decisions of lower <\/em>courts, or even of the invalidity of a statute in regard to a higher <\/em>norm. Expressions such as overriding a precedent <\/em>and striking down <\/em>a statute share the same structure.<\/p>\n In the field of law, metaphors are often employed to describe and illustrate abstract ideas and concepts. For one, the idea of justice is commonly represented, or symbolized, through the blindfold, scales, and sword.[31]<\/a> On a more conventional level, metaphors are also used to convey typical concepts in legal practice, such as the balance of interests<\/em>, the weight \u00ad<\/em>or chain<\/em> of<\/em> evidence<\/em>, or the burden of proof<\/em>.[32]<\/a> Here again, metaphors are employed to communicate the substance of an idea that could otherwise be hard to convey.<\/p>\n Metaphors are also common in law because of their persuasive power. In fact, they serve all three persuasive processes identified by the classical rhetoricians: logos, pathos, and ethos.[33]<\/a> Metaphors not only simplify communication by providing the audience with a supporting analogy (logos), but they also evoke emotions that parallel the literal meaning of the metaphoric language (pathos).[34]<\/a> Moreover, the skill to formulate an effective metaphor reflects a high level of thought, thus speaking to the intelligence of the author (ethos).[35]<\/a><\/p>\n But there is more. The persuasive power of metaphors lies in the fact that while they \u201care ways of seeing or highlighting some aspects of a concept, they also are ways of not seeing others.\u201d[36]<\/a> Thus, advocates may use metaphors in a strategic manner, to highlight or obscure certain aspects of an issue.[37]<\/a> In allowing the audience to focus its attention on one aspect of an issue, metaphors can keep the same audience from focusing on other aspects that are inconsistent with it.[38]<\/a> In this respect, they may well be employed to frame a debate or legal dispute in a particular light.<\/p>\n We make sense of our experiences by placing them into \u201cschemas\u201d\u2015cognitive frames and categories that derive from our past experiences and knowledge.[39]<\/a> Schemas contain \u201cgeneral expectations and knowledge of the world\u201d[40]<\/a> and are based on \u201csimplified models of experiences\u201d[41]<\/a> gathered since birth. These mental categories emerge from past experiences. We construct and amass them unconsciously as we go about our lives.<\/p>\n It is by generating the context in which ideas will be interpreted that these schemas help us structure and understand our new experiences.[42]<\/a> In other words, they provide us with a mental frame of reference that makes it possible for us to \u201csort and organize our experiences and acquired knowledge of the world.\u201d[43]<\/a> It is what allows us to make sense out of events \u201cwithout having to interpret and construct a [new] diagram of inferences and relationships\u201d each time.[44]<\/a> It is because of schemas that we manage to conserve mental energy as we discover the world.[45]<\/a><\/p>\n According to psychologist Jerome Bruner, humans have a \u201cpredisposition to organize experience into a narrative form.\u201d[46]<\/a> Narratives are, in this sense, \u201cinnate\u201d frames of reference for structuring and interpreting new information.[47]<\/a> They are complex cognitive models, made up of numerous schemas operating at once,[48]<\/a> which provide the context in which we interpret events.[49]<\/a> In keeping with this, research has shown that information is better understood when expressed in terms of stories than of abstract principles.[50]<\/a> This, it is said, is because \u201cnarrative structure more closely resembles the way the human mind makes sense of the world.\u201d[51]<\/a> We learn through story the same way we learn through experience\u2014by placing ourselves in the role of the protagonist.[52]<\/a> Thus, narrative helps us find some semblance of coherence in a series of chronological events.[53]<\/a> It also helps us comprehend \u201cpeople, events, objects, and their relationships to each other.\u201d[54]<\/a><\/p>\n Narratives follow patterns. There are basic structures to which virtually every story conforms. In literary theory, these basic structures are called \u201cstock stories\u201d. A stock story is a common story type, composed of only the essential details of a story.[55]<\/a> When these stock stories are embedded in culture, they become \u201ccommon archetypes\u201d, or \u201cmyths\u201d.[56]<\/a> Myths exert a profound influence on our thinking; they shape, often unconsciously, our perception of events. They provide a particular perspective, a narrative lens or view, on the events we encounter, thus producing the context in which they will be understood.[57]<\/a> Because narratives function beneath the surface of our consciousness, their effects are hard to overcome. Linda Edwards writes that \u201cby the time we are old enough to think about law, myths [that is, common narratives] have become part of us, and they are ready to orchestrate our understanding of the world, including the world of law.\u201d[58]<\/a><\/p>\n Narratives also have the capacity to conjure \u201cemotions by transporting [the audience] into their imaginary worlds.\u201d[59]<\/a> When thinking of an event through the lens of a certain narrative structure, our judgment is affected by \u201cthe social knowledge embedded in the story rather than [by] the unique characteristics of the current situation.\u201d[60]<\/a> From this point on, it is very hard to go back and see things outside of this particular narrative. When within a story, all of our \u201cmental systems\u2014attentive, imagistic, emotive\u2014converge on its events, with dramatic real-world results: [our] ability to think critically about the narrative is reduced, making [us] more likely to believe that it is authentic.\u201d[61]<\/a><\/p>\n In light of these findings, scholars of law and narrative have argued that, to be more persuasive, lawyers \u201cshould make their stories seem generic rather than unique.\u201d[62]<\/a> Because the thinking of judges and jurors is dominated by these common archetypes, by the \u201cstock narrative frames that they bring to the case,\u201d some have claimed that advocates should shape their narratives so as to fit those frames.[63]<\/a> In other words, as lawyers are arguing for the \u201cempirical plausibility\u201d of their version of events, persuasive narrative will have a tendency to work best when grounded in a cultural stock of recognizable and narrative patterns.[64]<\/a><\/p>\n Not unlike metaphors, narratives persuade by appealing to the three essential persuasive processes identified by the classical rhetoricians. Firstly, narratives have a logos function\u2014they communicate information in a more effective manner than through general pronouncements.[65]<\/a> Secondly, in terms of the pathos function of narratives, they both enliven the text and evoke substantive emotional responses in audiences.[66]<\/a> Thirdly, narratives appeal to ethos,<\/em> insofar as they demonstrate that the advocate using them has a \u201cmental storehouse of illustrative stories at the ready\u201d and the skill to \u201cdeploy these stories to support an argument.\u201d[67]<\/a><\/p>\n In sum, narrative and metaphor play an important role in human cognition. They help us understand new events and make sense of the world. They influence the way we reason about ideas and events. The importance of this will be obvious in later Parts of this article where we shed light on our Constitution\u2019s own set of myths, stories, and metaphors, and how they impact the way we think, talk, and argue about it. This knowledge should, for one, make us more attentive to the possibility that the static<\/em> and dynamic <\/em>metaphors of Canadian constitutional law play a role, not only as proxies for legal principles, but also in the way they influence our perception of our founding document and the types of stories that jurists tell about it.<\/p>\n If we are to study the stories of law, we first need to understand the vocabulary and master the tools to do so. For this reason, this Part defines what a \u201cstory\u201d is, identifies its basic building blocks, and offers an overview of two plot structures commonly used in law: \u201cbirth\u201d and \u201crescue\u201d stories. The main goal of this Part is to allow the reader to recognize these elements in legal materials, and to show how many of us already use, albeit unconsciously, some of these insights and tools in our writing. In short, it calls for \u201cnarrative awareness\u201d[68]<\/a> on the part of jurists.<\/p>\n \u201c[The] dynamic beneath [a] story is plot: the attempt to fulfill [a] yearning and the world\u2019s attempt to thwart that [yearning].\u201d<\/p>\n \u2015Robert Olen Butler[69]<\/a><\/p>\n Kendall Haven defines a story as a \u201ccharacter-based narration of a character\u2019s struggles to overcome obstacles and reach an important goal.\u201d[70]<\/a> In other words, it is the account of a character facing a conflict and resolving it for better or worse.[71]<\/a> The central component of a story is the plot. The plot structures the story;[72]<\/a> it is not only the events that take place, but also the order in which they occur.[73]<\/a> The plot is what links cause and effect.[74]<\/a> In sum, it connects all the elements of a story.<\/p>\n Narrative theory commonly recognizes five stages to a plot: introduction, rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution.[75]<\/a> The first stage, the \u201cintroduction\u201d, offers background information for the reader to understand the characters, the events, and the time and place of the story.[76]<\/sup><\/a> The second stage, the \u201crising action\u201d, is where the complicating event gives rise to the \u201cconflict\u201d of the story. This stage culminates with the \u201cclimax\u201d of the story, where the main character, faced with great danger, accomplishes a heroic act that will resolve the story\u2019s main conflict.[77]<\/sup><\/a> The \u201cfalling action\u201d ensues, resolving the other minor plot threads, followed by the \u201cresolution\u201d, where the story ends in a \u201cnew equilibrium\u201d that presents similarities, but is not identical, to the initial steady state.[78]<\/a> These are the elemental stages through which a plot progresses. With these basic elements of plot construction in mind, let us now turn to some of the elementary forms a plot can take; the fundamental structures to which most stories conform.<\/p>\n The basic plot structures are commonly known, in narrative theory, as \u201cstock\u201d stories. A stock story is a \u201crecurring story template or \u2018story skeleton\u2019, a model for similar stories that will be told with differing events, entities, and details.\u201d[79]<\/a> These common narratives\u2014these basic story structures\u2014shape our thinking by helping us understand new events.[80]<\/a> Since audiences tend to be more easily convinced by narratives they can readily imagine, some authors argue that the most persuasive stories a lawyer can tell are those that fit a common narrative.[81]<\/a> Thus, a jurist aware of these basic story structures will be able to choose the one that best advances a favoured legal outcome.[82]<\/a> When, for example, a lawyer has to deal with bad facts and the conventional plot seems unfavorable to their client, it can be useful to consider whether there might exist other possible narratives to choose from.[83]<\/a><\/p>\n For our purposes, it is useful to consider in more detail two of these basic story archetypes: \u201cbirth\u201d and \u201crescue\u201d.[84]<\/a> As suggested in the previous Part, the analysis to come will show how two competing types of metaphors used in Canadian law\u2014dynamic<\/em> and static<\/em> metaphors\u2014shape the way we think, talk, and argue about the Constitution. The case will be made that these two types of metaphors contain the seed of particular archetypal narrative structures. The following sub-Parts will be devoted to these very stories, as a basic knowledge of \u201cbirth\u201d and \u201crescue\u201d stories is necessary to understand this claim.<\/p>\n One of the most elementary human needs fulfilled by our ability to imagine stories, Christopher Booker argues, is our \u201cdesire for an explanatory and descriptive picture of how the world began and how we came to be in it.\u201d[85]<\/a> Every culture and religion has at least one such story; one story that makes sense of how the world came to be. Even more fascinating is the fact that although all such stories inevitably differ to some degree, they all share certain characteristics and key features, irrespective of the cultural or linguistic traditions from which they originate.[86]<\/a><\/p>\n A common version of this story, the one that is relevant for our purposes, is centered around the impression of an \u201cinfinitely … laborious, mysterious and long drawn-out\u201d process.[87]<\/a> It posits that the \u201cemergence of our recognizable world takes place by what we would call an \u2018evolutionary\u2019 process,\u201d a process in which \u201ceach new component develops out of what came before.\u201d[88]<\/a> Such stories feature in Greek mythology, in religious texts, and in oral traditions still observed today.[89]<\/a> In a like manner, our telling of the \u201cbig bang\u201d creation story still mostly conforms to this plot structure.[90]<\/a> Jeremy Webber also identified one such narrative in the Canadian context, captured by the phrase \u201c\u2018from colony to nation,\u2019 which emphasized the progressive development of Canada toward a more perfect nationhood.\u201d[91]<\/a><\/p>\n The narrative structure characteristic of these myths is known, in narrative theory, as that of a \u201cbirth\u201d or \u201ccreation\u201d story. In its most basic form, it is a story that demands a change in the world,[92]<\/a> which change is presented as the normal \u201cculmination of a natural and inevitable process in which the [world] has been engaged for a long time.\u201d[93]<\/a> The result is a \u201cpath toward establishing an anticipated steady state,\u201d one that does not yet exist but which the audience is made to expect.[94]<\/a> It is a story that underplays the inconvenient current state of the world, and makes it vanish by way of a narrative move from the distant past to a predetermined future.[95]<\/a><\/p>\n In sum, the \u201cbirth\u201d story is one of evolution, of growth, of the fulfilment of one\u2019s destiny. The metaphorical structure of this archetypal narrative is one of an irresistible movement toward a future that has been preordained all along, of a development towards self-realization.[96]<\/a> As such, this typical plot structure can often prove useful for advocates seeking the recognition of new legal rights. As will be argued, this plot structure may also be among the stock stories that conceptually have the most in common with what we have termed below the dynamic<\/em> metaphors of Canadian constitutional law, of which the \u201cliving tree\u201d is a prime example. This commonality, it will be shown, stems from the fact that \u201cbirth\u201d stories perfectly convey the idea of growth and evolution for which the dynamic<\/em> metaphors of Canadian constitutional law stand for. Before we get there, one last basic plot structure merits our attention.<\/p>\n The other common narrative structure that is of interest for our purposes is that of the \u201crescue\u201d story. This story often begins in a state of stability and normality.[97]<\/a> However, this initial state is quickly disrupted by \u201cevil forces bent on domination or destruction.\u201d[98]<\/a> In this context, the goal of the protagonists, traditionally an \u201coutnumbered and outgunned\u201d band of the faithful, is to save a character \u201cin danger, vulnerable to harm, or already captured.\u201d[99]<\/a> The object of the rescue may also be, as Edwards tells us, a valuable thing, \u201csuch as a talisman or an amulet worn for protection or power.\u201d[100]<\/a> If the protagonists are not able to retrieve or protect said item, the danger is that the antagonists might destroy it, thus annihilating its power for good, or even misuse it, employing it to further their evil ends. The ultimate goal in such stories is, by way of the rescue, to go back to the initial status quo.[101]<\/a><\/p>\n This rescue narrative displays certain similarities with another highly common plot structure, that of \u201covercoming the monster.\u201d[102]<\/a> Like the \u201crescue\u201d story, this plot begins in a peaceful and quiet setting. The disruption of the equilibrium will usually come in the shape of some superhuman personification of evil.[103]<\/a> This \u201cmonster\u201d, Booker tells us, \u201cis always deadly, threatening destruction to those who cross its path or fall into its clutches.\u201d[104]<\/a> Generally, it is a whole community or kingdom, even humankind and the world in general, that is threatened by this evil creature. As is the case in the \u201crescue\u201d story, some great prize, a treasure, or even a loved one, will often be stuck in the monster\u2019s clutches. The story eventually leads to a confrontation between the hero and the monster, one that the former seemingly cannot win. As the story reaches its climax and the defeat of the hero appears just about certain, a dramatic reversal occurs, and the monster is ultimately killed. By a courageous feat, a selfless deed, the protagonist will have \u201cliberated the world … from the shadow of this threat to its survival.\u201d[105]<\/a><\/p>\n The structural element common to these stories is that they both begin in a stable world. As the action unfolds, the stable world either is at risk of being disrupted, or has been disrupted, by evil forces.[106]<\/a> From this initial state, both stories describe the struggle of the hero or heroine to \u201cresolve the disequilibrium and return to some version of legitimate stability.\u201d[107]<\/a> In both stories, a major part is played by the wicked antagonist, by the evil creature whose only aim is to wreak havoc on the world. Booker explains that \u201c[s]o powerful is the presence of this figure, so great the sense of threat which emanates from it, that the only thing which matters to [the audience] as we follow the story is that it should be killed and its dark power overthrown.\u201d[108]<\/a> In sum, both the \u201crescue\u201d and \u201covercoming the monster\u201d stories are, in terms of their narrative structure, essentially about preservation.<\/p>\n As will be demonstrated in a later Section of the present article, these archetypal narratives appear to be the stock stories that share the most, in conceptual terms, with what we have called the static <\/em>metaphors of Canadian constitutional law, of which the \u201cconstitutional architecture\u201d metaphor is a prime example. This reality, it will further be argued, follows from the fact that, like all static<\/em> metaphors, these particular stock stories call for reaffirming an existing state of affairs, for \u201ca return to normal, legitimate, ordinary life.\u201d[109]<\/a><\/p>\n This Part has sought to provide readers with an overview of the essential building blocks of storytelling, and of two archetypal plot structures: \u201cbirth\u201d and \u201crescue\u201d stories. With these tools in hand, our journey into the world of narrative scholarship can finally begin.<\/p>\n Canadian constitutional law is largely shaped by two main types of metaphors: dynamic<\/em> and static<\/em>. Each conveys a distinct conception of the Constitution and, as such, influences the kinds of stories we tell about it. The next Part will make the case that these two categories, exemplified by the \u201cliving tree\u201d and \u201cconstitutional architecture\u201d metaphors, sustain dominant narratives about the Constitution\u2014narratives whose structures in essence correspond, respectively, to the \u201cbirth\u201d and \u201crescue\u201d stories.<\/p>\n The following demonstration is divided into two main sub-Parts. The first sub-Part introduces the dynamic<\/em> and static<\/em> metaphors of Canadian constitutional law. The second sub-Part emphasizes how these types of metaphors influence the kind of stories we tell about the Constitution. It seeks to show, by looking at two recent Supreme Court of Canada decisions from a narrative perspective, how these two types of metaphors sustain archetypal narratives of \u201cbirth\u201d and \u201crescue\u201d about the Constitution. It also explores what this means for constitutional scholars and lawyers.<\/p>\n Our Constitution is a heterogeneous aggregation of statutory provisions, common law rules, unwritten principles, conventions and royal prerogatives. As such, it is no simple thing to conceptualize.[110]<\/a> This complexity might account for why Canadian jurists have tended to resort to conceptual metaphors to better grasp the working of the supreme law of the country.[111]<\/a> As we have seen, it is not uncommon in law for metaphors to be used to communicate the substance of ideas or concepts that could otherwise have been difficult to convey.[112]<\/a> Constitutional metaphors, Warren Newman tells us, can be \u201cpowerful means of describing and illuminating otherwise abstract, obscure or intangible aspects of constitutional arrangements and institutional relationships.\u201d[113]<\/a> In short, they provide us with a stock of mental images of the Constitution and simplified models for reasoning about it.<\/p>\n In addition to serving as devices for the imagination, metaphors also play a vital function in constitutional adjudication. They do so by providing a frame of reference through which norms can be interpreted and applied. Because the meaning of legal texts is never wholly clear, nor entirely determined,[114]<\/a> reasoned judgment is needed to interpret and apply them. This judgment depends on a good comprehension of the underlying aims of the rules, of each case\u2019s practical considerations, of the relation between these aims and considerations, and of the hierarchy between competing rules.[115]<\/a> This is where metaphors come into play. They offer us tools for reasoning about rules and principles. They provide examples of the norms in action. They record a \u201cwide swath of the experience of social interaction \u2026 against which possible formulations of norms can be tested and refined.\u201d[116]<\/a> They also give \u201ca memorable quality to certain norms, so that those norms are retained [and] internalized\u201d[117]<\/a>.<\/p>\n Constitutional metaphors have further come to play an important role in both the lawyer\u2019s task of persuasion and the justificatory discourse of Canadian courts. They are often used, as will be illustrated below, to frame jurisprudential debates and legal disputes in a particular light by selectively highlighting and hiding certain key aspects of contested issues.[118]<\/a> In focusing the audience\u2019s attention on one aspect of a debate\u2014say, the need for the Constitution to keep evolving to respond to new realities\u2014a conceptual metaphor like that of the \u201cliving tree\u201d can keep the same audience from focusing on other, likely inconsistent aspects of the debate, for example considerations of legal stability and predictability.[119]<\/a> Used in this manner, the metaphor can intensify or increase the persuasiveness of legal arguments, in legal brief and judicial opinions alike. In this particular sense, a choice of metaphor is rarely an innocent one.[120]<\/a><\/p>\n Many such metaphors have been formulated over the years, each referring to different aspects of the functioning of the Constitution. One can think, for instance, of Peter Hogg\u2019s famous \u201cdialogue\u201d metaphor,[121]<\/a> of the idea of the Constitution as an \u201coriginal compact\u201d between Canada\u2019s \u201cfounding peoples,\u201d[122]<\/a> or of the metaphors representing the Supreme Court as the \u201cguardian\u201d of the Constitution,[123]<\/a> or as an impartial \u201carbiter\u201d of disputes concerning the division of powers.[124]<\/a><\/p>\n While many different metaphors have \u201cpunctuated the development\u201d of Canadian constitutional law, with themes ranging from the nautical to the organic to the mechanical,[125]<\/a> two main conceptual categories emerge: dynamic<\/em> and static<\/em> metaphors. This is not to say that all metaphors about the Canadian Constitution fit into these two categories. This line of demarcation is, however, the one that seemed most meaningful, not only because the categories encompass the greatest number of constitutional metaphors, and the most influential ones for that matter, but also because these categories go to the very heart of these metaphors and what they stand for. These categories represent the most significant of the common denominators we have found between the dominant metaphors of Canadian constitutional law.<\/p>\n The present Part will be devoted to what we have termed the dynamic<\/em> metaphors of Canadian constitutional law. The first sub-Part offers a general overview of what we mean when we talk of dynamic<\/em> constitutional metaphors in Canadian law. The following sub-Parts are concerned with a prime example of this category, the famous \u201cliving tree\u201d metaphor from Edwards v. Canada (AG)<\/em>,[126]<\/a> as well as its various extensions. The inquiry will focus, more specifically, on the broad conceptual field associated with these metaphors, and the language these metaphors prompt judges, lawyers, and scholars to use. The main interest in identifying the central theme and ideas conveyed by each type of metaphor is that it will help us later in the analysis to recognize the narratives the metaphors sustain about the Constitution. The same exercise will be conducted in the next Part in regard to the \u201cconstitutional architecture\u201d metaphor.<\/p>\n The general idea behind this Part and the one after is, in the words of George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, that insofar as \u201ccommunication is based on the same conceptual system that we use in thinking and acting, language is an important source of evidence for what that system is like.\u201d[127]<\/a> This means, for instance, that we do not just talk <\/em>about the Constitution in terms of a tree. We picture it<\/em>, in our mind, as a growing, organic entity. We think of it as rooted in the bonds of the past, in tradition. We also feel compelled to allow space for its natural evolution. Put another way, the words we choose to communicate our thoughts about the Constitution are not arbitrary; rather, they reflect more fundamentally how we think<\/em> about it and how we conceptualize<\/em> it. Communication is based on our conceptual system, which also generates thinking and acting. In keeping with this, it is our contention that by focusing on the language that judges, lawyers, and scholars use in talking<\/em> about the Constitution, choosing the semantic and conceptual field of one metaphor over that of another, we could have a better idea of what these people think <\/em>about it.<\/p>\n As their name indicates, dynamic<\/em> metaphors speak to the growth and development of the Constitution. They are about \u201cflexibility, suppleness, and growth.\u201d[128]<\/a> Implied in these metaphors are ideas of traction, evolution, and \u201cmotive force\u201d.[129]<\/a> Many of them are concerned with \u201cthe living, organic aspects of the Constitution.\u201d[130]<\/a> In Canada, the most famous of these metaphors is, without a doubt, that of the \u201cliving tree\u201d.[131]<\/a> A lesser-known example of a dynamic<\/em> constitutional metaphor in Canada is that of the mille-feuille.[132]<\/a> The idea expressed by this metaphor is that of a stratified legal order shaped by the accumulation, over time, of successive layers of constitutional norms. It is intended to reflect the historical continuity of the Canadian constitutional order.[133]<\/a> It pictures the Constitution not as an immutable entity, but rather as the result of years of growth.[134]<\/a><\/p>\n The dynamic<\/em> metaphors are, in practice, largely used to support an evolving interpretation of both the provisions and unwritten principles of the Constitution. They broadly stand for the idea that constitutional interpretation should be large and evolutive, because such instruments deal in few words with subjects of great importance, with respect to which new developments and changed understandings are bound to arise over time.[135]<\/a> They support the idea that, for the Constitution to be exhaustive and remain relevant, it must be read so as to accommodate the realities of modern life[136]<\/a> and to leave space for growth. This growth, however, need not\u2014nor should it\u2014necessarily be unconstrained. In fact, as we will see in more detail below, the \u201cliving tree\u201d metaphor in Canadian law is one of the best illustrations of a dynamic<\/em> constitutional metaphor that, while contemplating evolution, nonetheless seeks to remain rooted in tradition.<\/p>\n The metaphor of the Canadian Constitution as a \u201cliving tree\u201d has its origin in the decision of the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council in Edwards.<\/em> At issue was the question of whether women could serve in the Senate of Canada. In 1928, the Supreme Court held that they could not, as they were excluded from the phrase \u201cqualified Persons\u201d in section 24 of the Constitution Act, 1867.<\/em>[137]<\/a> This holding was overturned by the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, the court of last resort in the Canadian legal order prior to 1949.[138]<\/a> The Privy Council took issue with the interpretive approach favoured by the Supreme Court when expounding the meaning of the Constitution Act,<\/em> 1867<\/em>, one that focused deeply on history. In holding that the Canadian Constitution must be read liberally so as to adapt to changing circumstances, Lord Sankey famously declared that: \u201c[t]he … Act planted in Canada a living tree capable of growth and expansion within its natural limits. The object of the Act was to grant a Constitution to Canada.\u201d[139]<\/a> The use by Lord Sankey of this conceptual metaphor foreshadowed the analysis to come, and the Privy Council\u2019s ultimate conclusion, that the word \u201cpersons\u201d in section 24 of the Constitution Act, 1867 <\/em>did include women.<\/p>\n Since its inception in 1930, this dynamic<\/em> metaphor has been used to exemplify the idea that courts should adjust their interpretation of the Constitution in light of the evolution of Canadian society and not only look for the original meaning of the words employed or the original intent of the framers.[140]<\/a> This is, as we have seen above, how conceptual metaphors give shape to abstract principles;[141]<\/a> part of their power lies in expressing the essence of ideas\u2014or, in this case, principles of constitutional interpretation\u2014that would otherwise be difficult to convey.[142]<\/a><\/p>\n The \u201cliving tree\u201d stands for ideas of growth and evolution, and these ideas affect the way we think, talk, and argue about the Constitution. To see this, we can retrace the various instances where the metaphor has been employed in our legal discourse. In addition to identifying explicit references to this metaphor, the following sub-Part will also expose the more subtle ways the metaphor colours the language of judicial opinions. Specifically, it will identify the broad conceptual domain that is associated, by way of the metaphor, to the Constitution. In short, it will uncover the central themes and ideas that the metaphor conveys.<\/p>\n The \u201cliving tree\u201d metaphor is built upon a twofold idea: that of an entity engaged in a process of natural evolution, but whose evolution remains constrained by its origins. \u201cTrees, after all, are rooted,\u201d Vicki C. Jackson notes.[143]<\/a> To further borrow the vocabulary of forestry, the constitutional tree is understood in the Canadian legal consciousness to have roots and a trunk\u2014structural elements which form the foundation of our society and legal system.[144]<\/a> While the tree must have its roots preserved in order to keep on living, it nonetheless keeps on growing through its branches and leaves, which are symbols of the evolutive interpretation of the constitutional text.[145]<\/a><\/p>\n Still, the main idea conveyed by this metaphor remains that of a natural evolution,[146]<\/a> of growth<\/em>. As mentioned above, the idea of growth translates in a principle of evolutive interpretation of the Constitution, one that paints a dynamic and creative vision of it.[147]<\/a> This principle has played a central role in Canadian law since the 1930s, and is often used to discard claims that the words of the Constitution should be read in light of their original meaning or the intent of the framers.[148]<\/a><\/p>\n The Supreme Court\u2019s decision in Re B.C. Motor Vehicle Act<\/em> is a case in point.<\/em>[149]<\/a> The Court was asked to determine the meaning of the term \u201cprinciples of fundamental justice\u201d in section 7 of the Canadian <\/em>Charter of Rights and Freedoms<\/em>.[150]<\/a> One of the parties relied in this regard on the Minutes of the Proceedings and Evidence of the Special Joint Committee on the Constitution<\/em>.[151]<\/a> This evidence, which included testimonies of federal civil servants involved in the drafting of the Charter, seemed to suggest that the principles of fundamental justice in section 7 were intended to be limited to procedural matters.[152]<\/a> However, the Court refused to give anything but minimal weight to this evidence. In his reasons, Justice Lamer wrote of the dangers inherent in an original intent analysis,[153]<\/a> the approach according to which constitutional interpretation should only seek to discern \u201cthe original meaning of the words being construed as that meaning is revealed in the intentions\u201d of those who wrote and ratified that constitutional provision.[154]<\/a> The danger in this approach, he wrote, is that:<\/p>\n [T]he rights, freedoms and values embodied in the Charter<\/em> in effect become frozen in time to the moment of adoption with little or no possibility of growth, development and adjustment to changing societal needs … If the newly planted \u201cliving tree\u201d which is the Charter<\/em> is to have the possibility of growth and adjustment over time, care must be taken to ensure that historical materials … do not stunt its growth.[155]<\/a><\/p>\n The dynamic<\/em> \u201cliving tree\u201d metaphor has thus been used to reject interpretations that go against the natural evolution not only of the Constitution, but also of the society that make up its environment.<\/p>\n As was discussed above, metaphorical thinking works by transferring the \u201ccharacteristics, reasoning processes, and outcomes\u201d of a \u201csource\u201d domain onto a \u201ctarget\u201d domain.[156]<\/a> Here, the characteristics of the tree, or more broadly the plant, have been transferred onto the Constitution.<\/em> By drawing on our prior knowledge of the \u201csource domain\u201d\u2014here, the tree\u2014<\/em>metaphors allow us to make inferences about what should happen, or will likely happen, to the \u201ctarget domain\u201d\u2014here, the Constitution.[157]<\/a> They thus influence our assessment of what we ought to see and feel. Here, it is precisely because we expect the tree to grow, and because it is tightly associated in our mind with the Constitution, that we also expect the latter to grow. Thus, the \u201cliving tree\u201d metaphor might account (at least in part) for what makes the continuing evolution of the Constitution\u2014and by extension, the outcome of cases\u2014appear so natural and inevitable to us. In fact, it should come as no surprise that within this particular frame of reference, the \u201cliving tree\u201d has allowed progressive constitutional development without any constitutional amendment.<\/p>\n The process of transferring inferences from one concept to the other is also strikingly exemplified in the more recent Same-Sex Marriage Reference.<\/em> In that case, the Court had to decide whether the federal parliament could adopt a law allowing same-sex marriage under its power over marriage and divorce in paragraph 91(26)\u00a0of the Constitution Act, 1867<\/em>. It was argued before the Court that the word \u201cmarriage\u201d in that provision entrenched common law definitions that only encompassed the union of a man and a woman. In rejecting the claim, the Supreme Court of Canada famously held that \u201c[t]he \u2018frozen concepts\u2019 reasoning runs contrary to one of the most fundamental principles of Canadian constitutional interpretation: that our Constitution is a living tree which, by way of progressive interpretation, accommodates and addresses the realities of modern life.\u201d[158]<\/a> By picturing the originalist approach\u2014according to which the meaning of a constitutional text is fixed at the time it is proposed and ratified[159]<\/a>\u2014as unduly limiting the natural evolution of the Constitution, the \u201cliving tree\u201d metaphor again serves to justify an evolutive interpretation of the text. In this respect, it holds normative implications. It tells us, implicitly, which outcome should be chosen\u2014which interpretation should naturally prevail. By presenting the choice as between allowing the growth of the Constitution or impeding it, the Court frames the discussion in a particular way.[160]<\/a><\/p>\n Another related notion which follows from this analogy is that the living tree needs to adapt in order to survive, and that its growth thus should not be stunted.[161]<\/a> This idea of a slow \u201cevolution towards betterment\u201d[162]<\/a> is prevalent in our legal discourse. Through it, the \u201cengine of evolution\u201d is presented by the courts as an \u201cinternal desire of the Constitution to survive in its environment.\u201d[163]<\/a> Courts, as \u201cguardians\u201d of the Constitution, thus present themselves as only bringing about adjustments required to preserve the relevance of our founding document today.[164]<\/a> In other words, these changes are what guarantee its very \u201csurvival\u201d.[165]<\/a> This idea has played a key role in the \u201cjustificatory discourse of the courts.\u201d[166]<\/a><\/p>\n If this sylvan analogy is to be pushed even further, the tree also requires sap to flourish. This particular extension of the metaphor was employed by the dissenting justices in the recent case of Quebec (AG) v. Canada (AG), <\/em>which considered whether the federal legislation abolishing the long-gun registry respected the constitutional division of power.[167]<\/a> In their reasons for striking down the impugned provision, the dissenting justices stressed the importance of the unwritten principles of the Constitution, like that of federalism. These principles, they wrote, \u201creflect our Constitution\u2019s historical context and have facilitated its application throughout its history; thus, they are to the Constitution what sap<\/em> is to a tree.\u201d[168]<\/a><\/p>\n In addition to sap, branches, and leaves, the Constitution as a living tree is also thought to have (as was mentioned) roots and a trunk. These extensions of the metaphor represent the structural elements on which Canada is said to be built, that is the parts of the tree which must be preserved for it to keep on growing. The original metaphor also made clear that the growth of the tree is constrained by its natural limits. In imposing constraints on the growth of the living tree, these extensions add a different, although not necessarily contradictory, conceptual dimension to the metaphor. They do not stunt the growth; they constrain it. They seek to ensure that, while the Constitution keeps evolving, it does so in keeping with the past. In this respect, they have a certain conceptual commonality with static<\/em> metaphors. Let us briefly consider what these extensions of the metaphor have meant in legal discourse for the growth of the living tree.<\/em><\/p>\n In living-tree constitutionalism, the idea of \u201cnatural limits\u201d usually stands for the constraints that exist on the development of constitutional law, for the limits \u201cimposed by the core of the concepts used in the entrenched texts of the Constitution.\u201d[169]<\/a> These limits are most frequently invoked, although not exclusively, in disputes about the division of powers between provincial legislatures and the federal parliament under sections 91 through 95 of the Constitution Act, 1867<\/em>.[170]<\/a><\/p>\n As for the tree\u2019s roots, they are meant to convey the idea that constitutional interpretation should not start with the idiosyncratic preferences of the judges, but rather rely on \u201csolid and well-established bases.\u201d[171]<\/a> As Hugo Cyr imaginatively puts it, a \u201ctree without roots cannot stand nor live. The roots nourish the tree and ensure a connection with the relatively immobile part of the world, the ground, and thus guarantee the stability of the tree throughout its development.\u201d[172]<\/a> This means, in legal discourse, that constitutional interpretation should not be conducted in a way that disregards the past.[173]<\/a> It should use the past as its starting point, and be mindful of it in explaining every novel development.[174]<\/a> In this respect, the roots metaphor captures the role of text, original understanding, and precedents in constitutional adjudication.[175]<\/a><\/p>\n In keeping with the roots metaphor, judges must be able, in their reasons, to fit all new changes \u201cinto a narrative of natural growth,\u201d one that suggests a degree of continuity.[176]<\/a> It is in this way that the roots metaphor imposes constraints on the creative power of judges.[177]<\/a> However, these limits are, as Cyr notes, \u201ccounter-balanced by the fact that the metaphor of natural growth does not impose strict conceptual restrictions to the direction of that growth.\u201d[178]<\/a><\/p>\n One last observation is in order at this point: like all metaphors, the \u201cliving tree\u201d metaphor \u201ccan obscure as much as [it can] illuminate.\u201d[179]<\/a> This is the case because, as we have seen above, metaphors \u201care ways of seeing or highlighting some aspects of a concept,\u201d but are also \u201cways of not seeing others.\u201d[180]<\/a> In allowing us to concentrate on one aspect of a concept, they can keep us from noticing other aspects that are inconsistent with it.[181]<\/a> The \u201cliving tree\u201d metaphor, for example, might be said by some to \u201c[understate] the effects of major constitutional change and the role of human agency in that process.\u201d[182]<\/a> In Jackson\u2019s words:<\/p>\n A tree\u2019s branches will grow in directions influenced by the availability of sun and water, responsive to a natural environment, but the environment of a constitution is made up of human beings, acting individually, in groups, and in institutions. There is a choicefulness in constitutional development that natural, organic metaphors obscure.[183]<\/a><\/p>\n Some also argue that the metaphor hides what proponents of a more originalist approach see as the dangers of letting constitutional evolution be driven by the vagaries of social change or, more precisely, by what unelected officials (judges) see as the new mores of society.[184]<\/a><\/p>\n In sum, the \u201cliving tree\u201d is emblematic of one of the two central categories of Canadian constitutional metaphors: dynamic<\/em> metaphors. This is true insofar as it speaks to the growth and development of the Constitution and supports an evolving interpretation of its express provisions and unwritten principles. It presents the Constitution not as an immutable entity, but rather as the result of years of growth. It stands for the idea that, for it to remain relevant, its text must be read so as to accommodate the realities of modern life. While the origins of the \u201cliving tree\u201d date as far back as the 1930 Edwards <\/em>case, it nonetheless remains one of the dominant metaphors in Canadian law today. By way of its roots, trunk, and natural limits imagery, it also warns that the evolution of the Constitution must nonetheless be mindful of the past and that, for this reason, constitutional text and precedents continue to play a role in adjudication. As will be evident in the next Part, while this last idea of the importance of the past is only incidentally expressed by the \u201cliving tree\u201d, it is at the very heart of the second central category of Canadian constitutional metaphors identified here: static<\/em> metaphors.<\/p>\n The static<\/em> metaphors of Canadian constitutional law broadly represent the immovable foundations upon which Canada was built, the bedrock on which the country stands, the basic infrastructure that, if not continually preserved, is at risk of eroding. In the words of Newman, they tend to evoke \u201cimages or impressions of ancient or classical structure, strength, durability, permanence, and to some degree, solidity and firmness of form, if not outright rigidity.\u201d[185]<\/a> In this respect, static<\/em> metaphors are often associated with strict, or literal, constitutional interpretation. These metaphors tend to focus our attention on the text of the Constitution, its original meaning and raison d\u2019\u00eatre<\/em>, as well as on the jurisprudence of the Court that has endured over time.[186]<\/a> They draw on ideas of legal continuity and stability, ideas that have a strong normative pull. As such, they are often associated with a narrow reading of the Constitution and a form of originalism.[187]<\/a><\/p>\n Static<\/em> metaphors have occupied an important place in the Canadian legal landscape since at least the 1930s. Early manifestations include the \u201coriginal contract\u201d between Canada\u2019s \u201cfounding peoples\u201d, the \u201cwatertight compartments\u201d metaphor, and the idea of the Court as the \u201cguardian\u201d of the Constitution. More recent iterations of the static<\/em> metaphor can be found in the ideas of the constitutional \u201cstructure\u201d and \u201carchitecture\u201d, to which the next sub-Part will be devoted.<\/p>\n Before moving on to this discussion, it seems useful to consider briefly the early metaphors in the static<\/em> category. Not only should that help us better understand the ideas they stand for, it should also provide insight as to how courts have used them, and to what ends. The oldest of these metaphors, that of the original contract, or compact between the country\u2019s constitutive parts, was referred to by Lord Sankey within two years of his decision in Edwards<\/em> in the Aeronautics Reference<\/em>.<\/em> In this 1931 case, the Privy Council dealt with the question of who, between the federal and provincial parliaments, had the power to regulate aeronautics, a matter which for obvious reasons had not been contemplated in 1867. In his reasons, Lord Sankey acknowledged that the Constitution \u201cembodies a compromise\u201d between the original provinces, an \u201coriginal contract\u201d centred on the \u201cpreservation of the rights of minorities.\u201d[188]<\/a> Still, the ultimate object of that contract was, in his view, to give the central government the powers \u201cby which uniformity of legislation might be secured\u201d on questions of national concern.[189]<\/a> It is in keeping with this idea that Lord Sankey ultimately found that aeronautics was a matter for the federal parliament.<\/p>\n The metaphor of the Constitution as a political compromise between Canada\u2019s constitutive parts has normative implications. It is often used to support the legitimacy of the Constitution or part thereof\u2014to offer a justification as to why one should adhere to its terms and to help understand the rationale behind some of its parts.[190]<\/a> By drawing on the intuitive moral assumption that a promise must be kept, the metaphor provides a compelling reason for demanding that all parties to the compact abide by its terms.[191]<\/a> It has notably been deployed in support of the idea that certain provisions should be left untouched because of \u201chow foundational they were to historically contingent agreements to federate,\u201d no matter if they might now appear inconsistent with other constitutional values.[192]<\/a> The analysis it supports prioritizes the original intent of the parties to the compact; in this sense, it will often lead to an originalist interpretation.[193]<\/a> This focus on original intent is predicated upon the assumption, summarized by Newman, that \u201crights flowing from the historic Confederation bargain,\u201d are \u201cless legitimately the subject of judicial development and enhancement\u201d than other, more \u201cuniversal\u201d rights.[194]<\/a> Because these parts of the Constitution were born out of a compromise, they are seen as more deserving of protection.<\/p>\n The other early manifestation of
\n\u2015Salman Rushdie[1]<\/a><\/p>\nI.\u00a0 Thinking About the Law: Cognitive Research\u2019s Take on Narratives and Metaphors<\/h1>\n
\n\u2015<\/em>Mary Catherine Bateson[16]<\/a><\/p>\nA.\u00a0 The Hidden Power of Metaphors<\/h2>\n
B.\u00a0 Schemas, Metaphor, and Narrative<\/h2>\n
II. A Lawyer\u2019s Guide to Narrative Theory: Key Concepts for the Study of Law<\/h1>\n
A.\u00a0 The Storyteller\u2019s Starter Kit<\/h2>\n
B.\u00a0 Common Archetypes and Stock Stories<\/h2>\n
1.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Stories of \u201cBirth\u201d and \u201cCreation\u201d<\/h3>\n
2.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Stories of \u201cRescue\u201d and \u201cMonsters\u201d<\/h3>\n
III. Metaphors of the Canadian Constitution<\/h1>\n
A.\u00a0 A Tale of Two Metaphors: Of Living Trees and Architectures<\/h2>\n
1.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Dynamic or \u201cAnimating\u201d Metaphors<\/h3>\n
a.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 General Overview<\/h4>\n
b.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The \u201cLiving Tree\u201d: Tracing Back its Roots<\/h4>\n
c.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The \u201cLiving Tree\u201d: Following the Branches<\/h4>\n
d.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The \u201cLiving Tree\u201d: Acknowledging its Natural Limits<\/h4>\n
2.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The Static or \u201cStructural\u201d Metaphors<\/h3>\n
a.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 General Overview<\/h4>\n