I’ve found my personal philosophical motto: the title of this post. Clifford Geertz said it as a way of expanding on Max Weber’s theories on what human culture is, but to me it sums up my whole personal cosmology, which I’ve been working on for as long as I’ve had a brain connected to my eyes and ears.

First, some context: Claude Levi-Strauss died yesterday at the age of 100. A globally-respected hero of anthropology and French intellectual like Claude naturally deserved an obituary in the NY Times, and that piece served as my first real introduction to L-S’s ideas. He was considered to be (though he disavowed the title of) the father of ‘structural anthropology’, which shifted the focus of anthropology away from the differences between the world’s cultures and towards their essential similarities. In particular, Levi-Strauss believed that all human cultures attempt to juxtapose and/or reconcile binary opposites, for example in the creation of gender roles and their dissolution in marriage.
Reading this I sta
rted to remember some tiny, infant, baby steps I had made towards building my own philosophical system when I was just a kid. Before I’d even heard of yin and yang I had this idea that the world contained an evenly balanced amount of good and bad, and all other opposites: I even planned to start a new religion about this called ‘The Balance’…
Anyway, that’s kind of a tangent to what matters here. Basically, I did some googling and wikiing and read more about Levi-Strauss and his followers and rivals and stumbled upon another example of my sophomoric conceptions of the world being more neatly expressed by academics.
This idea had come to me a little more recently than ‘The Balance’ in Year 8. During a course I took in my final year at UCL on the Revolutions of 1848 I read a lot of literature on nationalism as an ideology, and for the first time ever I really understood what nationalism was all about. It seemed amazing to me that national sentiment had convinced so many millions of men and women not so much to kill as to willingly die for their nations during the World Wars and previous conflicts, when nationality was in fact a fabrication, a system that humans had invented and that had no factual, empirical basis in nature. Humans had created this huge concept that they called nationalism for reasons that had been entirely sensible - protection from oppression and exploitation by empires, better communication through a shared language, increased comfort and standards of living through the economic harmonisation that nationhood enables - but they had forgotten that it was their own creation, and had begun to act as though they had no control over it and could not simply change it.
Driving home from the library late one night I got to a red traffic light at an
intersection There wasn’t another human being in sight, let alone any cars - and yet I still stopped at that light. How ridiculous, I thought: why don’t I just drive through this light and carry on? But I couldn’t. And just then it struck me - my situation was exactly the same as that of the national martyrs! Traffic lights, crossings, roundabouts - all these things were invented by humans to make their lives easier, but somehow they had taken on a life of their own and become endowed with their own ends which demanded more respect that those that they had been created to facilitate. Not only had the function of the traffic light come full circle and actually impeded my journey, but I myself, as the supposed human master/creator of this system, had lost the capacity to act against it.
After that I became fascinated by the capacity of humans to build systems to a purpose entirely in their own interests, but then allow them to become so huge and command such respect that the systems themselves became the ends of their existence, and the original purpose (for which the systems were designed as means only to accomplish) fell instead to a secondary importance.
But reading about Levi-Strauss led me to read about other anthropologists, including Clifford Geertz, author of a brilliant andant absolutely hilarious anthropology essay I’d read years before called ‘Deep Play - Notes on the Balinese Cockfight’ (if you read nothing else today, click on that link and read the first page of the article), and from reading about him I discovered something else.
Turns out someone else had had the same thoughts as me about the way humans create systems and then feel that they are trapped by them, but these people were great intellects and had spent years thinking about and investigating their ideas. Rather than calling them ‘systems’ like I had, they called them ‘structures’, and instead of the clumsy sentence I’d come up with two paragraphs above, Max Weber had expressed the same thought in a perfect metaphor:
Man is an animal suspended in webs of significance he himself has spun.
Although really it’s not quite so perfectly tailored towards my thoughts. The anthropologists are more interested in ‘significance’, and how people understand their rituals, languages and cultural habits, whereas I’m more concerned with the real, tangible social structures that people build. How do humans lose control of the structures they create? How do they create them in the first place? And are they aware of the potential power that lies inside what they’re making? How can we stop this loss of control from happening, and can I come up with some handy words to describe the main events of this sort of stuff?
Can I get this theory published? Would Levi-Strauss have been proud of me?