Starting to Worry and Another Scottish Encounter

PART I: STARTING TO WORRY

"What is something that all of us -- humanity with a capital H -- have in common? What is something that every person on the planet shares?"

The class thought for a moment, then reluctantly shared their ideas.

"Sex?"

Without hesitation, Dimitry explained that what we may think defines the sexes is not universal. For example, the Wogeo men in New Guinea force menstruation by cutting their upper thigh, and somehow are able to give birth to babies, although they know it will almost certainly kill them.

"Hunger?"

Dimitry asked us to consider the hunger felt in the Western World, and then to consider the hunger felt in Southern Sudan. Now, compare this hunger to a starvation artist, one who starves him or herself for a political cause. How much in common do these three types of hunger really have, with issues of meaning, agency, and context making them vastly different?

"The biological definition of death," one clever American said confidently.

This is where I became conflicted. Apparently, there is a tribe of people that exist in this world that don't believe in death. They believe that as one grows older, their body slowly dries up. When a loved one dies (according to our definition of death), the tribe sees them as being ill, requiring treatment and attention. The dead person lives with them, eats with them, and carries on about their (dead) business.

This emphasizes the point which I already knew: our entire world is socially constructed. Every bit of meaning, every word describing and evaluating our universe was created by a human and is therefor subjective. Objectivity is operationally impossible, as all thought is embedded within humanity and our human minds; "intersubjectivity" is the closest possible perspective to objectivity. In Anthropology, this means that every concept we assume is backed by logic and evidence is still subjective to our Western experience and negotiated with Western norms. We define death with a biological, scientific lens -- which, just so happens, is a field created by human beings, and is therefor a socially constructed perspective.

My confliction is embedded somewhere in that last sentence. If biology, science, and empiricism are Western (and Eastern) constructs, how are we to investigate and theorize upon foreign cultures? How is it possible to completely escape ones socialized nature that is a fiber of ones being? And how disappointed was I to find out that science as a whole is no longer legitimate from an Anthropological perspective. My culture, and any culture is to be repressed and avoided at all cost as it stands in the way of any clear understanding of our world. But what good is any understanding from a foreign culture or our own if it clearly has unmitigated biases?

Civilization itself was crumbling at my feet.

This is where my flatmate Juan reminded me that this was just an exercise. A first day "expand your horizons" kind of deal. Phew. Thanks, Juan. Got a little carried away there.


PART II: ANOTHER SCOTTISH ENCOUNTER, AKA "SNICKY AND THE BOYS"


Last night I went out for a pint with Erik, my Norwegian friend, at a nearby pub just a few doors down from our accommodation. Erik is a farmer interested in Nationalism Studies, as he hopes to write about Norway's political futures and effect change in areas of conservation and environmentalism. We talked about this in the tiny pub with old creaky chairs and wobbly wooden tables. A handful of locals were drinking, some alone, some chatting about a recent football match, all looking like frequent regulars. Interrupting our conversation, a very old, bald, and toothless Scottish chap leaned over our table and said "EY WHERYAFRUM?" swaying back and forth just a bit. We explained, which sent this man to react with shock while gasping "YE DON SEY LADDIES!", as if he'd never heard of a foreigner enter their tiny drinking hole before. He introduced himself to us as Snicky, as he's originally from Inverness; apparently the Scottish nickname for Inverness is "Inversnicky". Makes sense, I guess. In the next few minutes he expressed his condolences for 9/11 happening to me personally, admiration for Norway's sheep industry, and his aversion to anything English. He left us alone for the rest of the evening but bought us two additional pints and two sausage rolls.