In this work Tim Ingold provides a persuasive new approach to the theory behind our perception of the world around us. The core of the argument is that where we refer to cultural variation we should be instead be talking about variation in skill. Neither genetically innate or culturally acquired, skills are incorporated into the human organism through practice and training in an environment.They are as much biological as cultural.

Anthropology is a disciplined inquiry into the conditions and potentials of human life. Generations of theorists, however, have expunged life from their accounts, treating it as the mere output of patterns, codes, structures or systems variously defined as genetic or cultural, natural or social. Building on his classic work The Perception of the Environment, Tim Ingold sets out to restore life to where it should belong, at the heart of anthropological concern. Being Alive ranges over such themes as the vitality (...) of materials, what it means to make things, the perception and formation of the ground, the mingling of earth and sky in the weather-world, the experiences of light, sound and feeling, the role of storytelling in the integration of knowledge, and the potential of drawing to unite observation and description. Our humanity, Ingold argues, does not come ready-made but is continually fashioned in our movements along ways of life. Starting from the idea of life as a process of wayfaring, Ingold presents a radically new understanding of movement, knowledge and description as dimensions not just of being in the world, but of being alive to what is going on there. (shrink)

There is no prepared script for social and cultural life. People work it out as they go along. Creativity and Cultural Improvisation casts fresh, anthropological eyes on the cultural sites of creativity that form part of our social matrix. The book explores the ways creative agency is attributed in the graphic and performing arts and in intellectual property law. It shows how the sources of creativity are embedded in social, political and religious institutions, examines the relation between creativity and the (...) perception and passage of time, and reviews the creativity and improvisational quality of anthropological scholarship itself. Individual essays examine how the concept of creativity has changed in the history of modern social theory, and question its applicability as a term of cross-cultural analysis. The contributors highlight the collaborative and political dimensions of creativity and thus challenge the idea that creativity arises only from individual talent and expression. (shrink)

Against transmission -- For attention -- Education in the minor key -- Anthropology, art and the university.

What does imagination do for our perception of the world? Why should reality be broken off from our imagining of it? It was not always thus, and in these essays, Tim Ingold sets out to heal the break between reality and imagination at the heart of modern thought and science. Imagining for Real joins with a lifeworld ever in creation, attending to its formative processes, corresponding with the lives of its human and nonhuman inhabitants. Building on his two previous essay (...) collections, The Perception of the Environment and Being Alive, this book rounds off the extraordinary intellectual project of one of the world's most renowned anthropologists. Offering hope in troubled times, these essays speak to coming generations in a language that surpasses disciplinary divisions. They will be essential reading not only to for anthropologists but also for students in fields ranging from art, aesthetics, architecture and archaeology to philosophy, psychology, human geography, comparative literature and theology. (shrink)

Creativity is often portrayed as an X-factor that accounts for the spontaneous generation of the absolutely new. Yet the obsession with novelty implies a focus on final products and a retrospective attribution of their forms to unprecedented ideas in the minds of individuals, at the expense of any recognition of the form-generating potentials of the relations and processes in which persons and things are made and grown. In these processes, practitioners are characteristically called upon to copy the works of past (...) masters. However, though they may be guided by a script or score, every practitioner has to improvise his or her own passage through the array of tasks the performance entails. With examples from music, calligraphy and lace-making, I show that the wellsprings of creativity lie not inside people’s heads, but in their attending upon a world in formation. In this kind of creativity, undergone rather than done, imagination is not so much the capacity to come up with new ideas as the aspirational impulse of a life that is not just lived but led. But where it leads is not yet given. In opening to the unknown — in exposure — imagination leads not by mastery but by submission. Thus the creativity of undergoing, of action without agency, is that of life itself. (shrink)

To conclude the discussion of breath and breathing in the foregoing contributions, this comment sets out from a critical perspective on embodiment. For a being that breathes out and in, should we not add to embodiment its complement of vaporisation? Breath, after all, is fluid, animate and fundamental to human conviviality. While it can temporarily be put on hold, breath cannot be contained. That is why bodily breathing is unlike the ventilation of buildings. Moreover, breathing in and breathing out are (...) dissimilar movements which cannot be reversed. This presents particular problems for those with breathing difficulties, above all in societies where speech, carried on the outbreath, is modelled on print, and where thought is attributed to a self whose powers of cognition transcend bodily experience. In place of the complementarity of self and body, we posit the soul as a vortex in which breathing, thinking, speech and song all flow into one another. (shrink)

We contrast two understandings of traditional knowledge: as enframed in the discourse of modernity (MTK), and as generated in the practices of locality (LTK). Where `indigenous knowledge' is opposed to science, it always appears in the guise of MTK. This modernist understanding rests on a genealogical model of transmission that separates the acquisition of knowledge from environmentally situated practice. For local people, by contrast, traditional knowledge is inseparable from the practices of inhabiting the land that both bring places into being (...) and constitute persons as of those places. To illustrate the meaning of LTK, we describe how Saami people in northernmost Finland perceive their environment, focusing on their experiences of the weather. These are shown to be embedded in life-histories, dependent on tasks of travel, multisensory, crucial to spatial orientation and the co-ordination of activities, and seasonally periodic. To regard people's knowledge of the weather as an aspect of tradition means thinking of tradition as process rather than substance, as part of a way of life conceived not as the enactment of a received script but as the continual negotiation of a path through the world. Here there is no contradiction between continuity and change. LTK, we show, is tantamount to skill: a property of the whole organism-person, having emerged through a history of involvement in an environment. From the perspective of LTK, there is no opposition between traditional knowledge and science. For science is itself a form of LTK, differing from other forms in the practices through which it is generated, rather than in the epistemological status of the knowledge itself. (shrink)

A renowned anthropologist's profound and personal correspondences with the world we live in.

Many disciplines in the arts and social sciences are currently redirecting their attention to surfaces, and ways of treating them, as primary conditions for the generation of meaning. With regard to visual perception, this has entailed a switch from its optical to its haptic modality. How does this switch affect the way surfaces are understood? It is argued that with haptic vision, the emphasis is not on conformation but texture, as revealed in flows of material composition and in patterns of (...) self-shadowing – or in a word, in complexion. This makes the surface, whether of face, skin or landscape, quite distinct from that of a body or an object. Drawing on the ideas of John Ruskin, the haptically perceived surface is compared to a veil that is worn in the double sense of adornment and erosion, of affective expression and weathering. The article concludes that it is in the relations between such surfaces that social life is lived. (shrink)

Behavior, language, development, identity, and science—all of these phenomena are commonly characterized as 'social' in nature. But what does it mean to be 'social'? Is there any intrinsic 'mark' of the social shared by these phenomena? In the first book to shed light on this foundational question, twelve distinguished philosophers and social scientists from several disciplines debate the mark of the social. Their varied answers will be of interest to sociologists, anthropologists, philosophers, psychologists, and anyone interested in the theoretical foundations (...) of the social sciences. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Breath of Fresh Air:Or, Why the Body is Not Embodied1Tim Ingold (bio)One of the more irritating affectations of much recent writing in the humanities and social sciences is the habit of inserting the word "embodied" in front of the topic in question, as though by doing so the specter of binary thinking could be magically exorcised. Almost anything, it seems, can be embodied–the mind, consciousness, experience, knowledge, skills, (...) practices, the self, meaning. If there is one thing that cannot be embodied, however, it is the body itself. At first glance, the phrase "embodied body" looks like a simple case of tautology, of saying the same thing twice. "How can a body not be embodied?" you will protest. "It's the embodiment that makes it a body!" But on second thought, the matter is not so straightforward. For if the body is the predicate of a process of embodiment–if it comes after embodiment, so to speak–then all the other things we claim can be entered into the process must come before it. Thus, the dualism of mind and body, to take just one example, is still there, just as categorical as it ever was, but it no longer equates to a schism between ideal and material worlds. It is, rather, a matter of separating what is poured into the funnel of embodiment from what is extruded at the other end of it. It is a division between what goes in, and what comes out. Only things that go in can be embodied. The body, since it comes out of the process, cannot.A body, however, if it is to remain alive, has to breathe. Does it make sense, then, to regard breathing as a practice of embodiment, or to add breath to the list of things that can be embodied? That a body breathes goes without saying; that breath is thereby embodied is another matter entirely. Fundamental to breathing is the rhythmic alternation of air going in, and air coming out. Perhaps there's a sense in which breath is embodied on the inhalation, as air is drawn into the oxygenating process essential to bodily metabolism. But the release of air on the exhalation seems like the reverse, since it serves to expel gases–principally carbon dioxide–which in concentration would be lethal. If your body absorbs as you breathe in, it exudes as you breathe out. Embodiment, then, catches only half the picture, minus its complement of vaporization. Likewise, with [End Page 100] the body itself we have only half of the living being: the fleshy part. The other, gaseous part is normally invisible, though under certain conditions it can be seen, for example in a room full of smokers, in which everyone is wreathed in a haze, or when it is very cold, causing the warm, humid air issuing from the lungs to condense into a little cloud. As vaporization appears to be the complement of embodiment, so the cloud, whether of tobacco smoke or condensed moisture, seems to complement the body made up of flesh and blood.In the Western world there is a long tradition of prioritizing body over breath. This is consistent with an ontology of naturalism that tends to put the being of things before their becoming, as though everything there is had already precipitated out into bodies of one form or another, which have then to be set in motion in order to have the effects they do. Among many so-called Indigenous peoples, however, most especially those credited by anthropological observers with an ontology of animism, this priority is reversed. For them the vital complement of the living being wafts in smoke and resonates in song, whereas the bodily complement is but an ephemeral, almost ghostly appearance.2 Although a comparison of Western and animic ontologies might appear to lend support to the thesis of complementarity, pitching western naturalists into a world of bodies and indigenous animists into a world of vapors–both demi-worlds which, if only they could be combined, would make a perfect whole–I shall argue, to the contrary, that with a focus on breath and breathing, the division between the... (shrink)

L’atmosphère« Atmosphère » est un terme employé communément par des auteurs dans le domaine de l’esthétique que dans celui de la météorologie. Ils le comprennent pourtant de manière assez différente, chacun prétendant que leur emploi est la plus fondamentale et que l’autre est seulement métaphorique. Pour les esthéticiens, l’atmosphère réelle est une aura qui émane des choses et qui affecte nos humeurs et nos motivations; pour les météorologistes, il s’agit de l’enveloppe gazeuse qui entoure la planète. Je montre que les (...) deux sens excluent l’air ou le réduisent à un éther immatériel. D’une part, pour la science météorologique, tout se passe comme l’air était enfermé à l’intérieur et considéré comme un ensemble d’effets mesurables et calculables. D’autre part,l’esthétique de l’affect a relié l’atmosphère aux formes solides des artéfacts et des paysages. En ramenant le medium aérien, je cherche une signification de l’atmosphère qui transcende l’opposition entre l’affectif et le météorologique. Je le fais en suivant Merleau-Ponty, qui traite l’atmosphère comme un espace d’inspiration et d’expiration. En tant que tel, il correspond étroitement à ce que Merleau-Ponty lui-même appelle la « chair ». Ce concept pourrait aussi être traduit par « meshwork » (réseau/filet/grillage), référant à ces faisceaux de lignes et de chemins par lesquels chaque être humain est cousu à la fabrique du monde. Pour Merleau-Ponty, la portée de la notion de chair réside dans l’affirmation que la perception est fondamentalement réversible. On ne peut être sentant que dans un monde sentant; c’est pourquoi, comme il le soutient, notre perception des choses dans l’environnement répond à la perception par l’environnementde notre soi. Cependant, je soutiens au contraire que ces deux mouvements d’inspiration et d’expiration ne sont pas le contraire exact l’un de l’autre. Comme le mouvement de la brasse en nataion, le premier est un mouvement de rassemblement et le second de propulsion. Nous inhalons l’atmosphère, mais nous exhalons selon les lignes du réseau. Bref, réseau et atmosphère sont deux côtés de la chair, et c’est dans leur alternance rythmique que nous trouvons la relation entre les lignes et le temps météorologique, qui est, comme je le soutiens, fondamental à la vie.L’atmosfera‘Atmosfera’ è una parola usata comunemente tanto da chi scrive di estetica come dai metereologi. Ciononostante, essi intendono con ciò delle cose piuttosto differenti, ognuno ritenendo che il proprio e il senso più fondamentale mentre l’altrui è meramente metaforico. Per chi si occupa di estetica, l’atmosfera reale è un’aura che emana dalle cose e affetta il nostro umore e le nostre motivazioni; per i metereologi è l’involucro gassoso che circonda il pianeta. Mostro come entrambi i sensi trascurano l’aria, o la riducono a un etere immateriale. Da una parte, per la scienza metereologica, è come se l’aria fosse stata portata al chiuso e presentata come una serie di effetti misurabili e calcolati. Dall’altra, l’estetica dell’affetto ha legato l’atmosfera alle forme solide degli artefatti e dei paesaggi.Nel reintrodurre l’ambiente aereo, intendo trovare un significato di atmosfera che trascenda l’opposizione tra i sensi affettivo e meteorologico. Faccio questo, seguendo Merleau-Ponty, trattando l’atmosfera come uno spazio di inalazione e esalazione. Come tale, corrisponde da vicino a ciò che Merleau-Ponty stesso chiama “la carne”. Ma questo concetto potrebbe anche essere tradotto come ‘reticolo’ (meshwork), riferendosi a quei grovigli di linee e percorsi lungo i quali ogni essere vivente è cucito al tessuto del mondo. Per Merleau-Ponty, il significato della carne risiede nella sua affermazione secondo la quale la percezione è fondamentalmente reversibile. Si può essere senzienti soltanto in un mondo senziente; quindi, ritiene il filosofo, la nostra percezione delle cose nell’ambienteè ricambiata dalla percezione che quest’ultimo ha di noi. Io mostro, al contrario, che questi due movimenti, corrispondenti all’inalazione e all’esalazione, non sono l’esatto rovescio l’uno dell’altro. Come nella bracciata a stile libero nel nuoto, il primo è un movimento di raccolta, il secondo un movimento di propulsione. Ovverossia, inaliamo l’atmosfera, ma esaliamo secondo le linee del reticolo. In breve, il reticolo e l’atmosfera sono due facce della carne, e troviamo nella loro alternanza ritmica la relazione tra le linee e il tempo che, come sostengo, è fondamentale alla vita. (shrink)

This paper examines the changing meanings of the concept of 'biology', and of its opposition to 'culture', through an analysis of the ways in which anthropologists have sought to refute the idea that humanity is divided into distinct races. Efforts to redefine all extant humans as belonging to a single sub-species, or to replace 'race' with 'culture', only serve to perpetuate raciological thinking. This kind of thinking had its origins in the moral evaluation of physical difference, the construction of hierarchy (...) and essentialist typology. In its 1996 'Statement on Race', the American Association of Physical Anthropologists ruled out any connection between the biological and cultural characteristics of human beings. Yet the statement is internally inconsistent in the meanings it attributes to both biology and culture. These shifts in meaning correspond to phases in the history of anthropology, identified here as the Enlightenment phase (culture as a process of civilisation drawing on universal biopsychological capacities), the Consensual phase (culture as diverse traditions inscribed upon a common biological substrate) and the Interactionist phase (behaviour as the product of an interaction between culturally and genetically transmitted information in a given environment). The paper seeks an alternative, relational approach that focuses on the dynamics of developmental systems. Only through such an approach, it is argued, can we wrest biology away from the combination of geneticism and essentialism that continues to perpetuate the logic of raciology even in the course of its vehement denial. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Philosophers' Walks by Bruce BaughTim IngoldBaugh, Bruce. Philosophers' Walks. Routledge, 2022. 252pp.Yesterday evening, much to my satisfaction, I finished reading Bruce Baugh's Philosophers' Walks. The author ends by putting down his pen. It is time, he declares, "to put my boots on and walk out into the world" (236). For me, it was bedtime, but knowing that I was to write this review, I resolved to sleep on (...) it. On waking, I set out, as is my wont, for the short walk I take every morning before breakfast. The walk itself is nothing special: it takes in the streets of my neighborhood and a nearby park. Yet every day is different as the weather changes, trees come in and out of leaf, blooms flourish and wilt in front gardens, children on their way to school throng the streets in term-time only to vanish in vacations. Lately, a nineteenth-century fountain in the park has been lovingly restored, and every morning I am refreshed by its water-jets and tinkly sound. Most days I am writing in my head, on whatever I have on the go at the time. Walking briskly and on my own, I find that words that had tied me in knots the day before miraculously straighten themselves out with a rhythm and fluency matching my pace. I cannot, however, walk and write at the same time. It is physically impossible. So as the words come, I have to keep repeating them to myself, until I make it home. With no time to lose, I seize notebook, pencil, and spectacles to jot them down. Only when I have done so can I finally sit down to breakfast. And that's exactly what happened this morning. With my hastily scribbled notes, some good words, and the odd finished sentence, I am ready to write this review.I am not, of course, the first to have discovered the benefits of thinking-while-walking. Countless predecessors have done so before me, including some of the most celebrated figures of the past four centuries of European intellectual history. And so has Baugh. The idea behind his book is that if by walking, philosophers have arrived at many of their most cherished insights, then perhaps we could better take the measure of these insights not merely by reading their words but by retracing their steps, walking the same paths as they did. And this, precisely, is what [End Page 131] Baugh, often accompanied by his wife Diane Lindsay, set out to do. Each chapter, barring the introduction and conclusion, is devoted to one or sometimes two characters, and each blends reflection on their ideas and life-histories of walking with the author's recollection of attempting to follow in their footsteps, and of the experience and even self-knowledge gained from doing so. Some walks are in verdant countryside, or more spectacular Alpine scenery, others are in big cities like London and Paris. Baugh does not pretend that the walks of his chosen characters can be replicated exactly when so much has changed, in both rural areas and the urban fabric, since their heydays. Nor can we ever know exactly what was going through their heads at the time. It is nevertheless surprising how many echoes you can pick up from the past, so long as you keep your ears to the ground, and Baugh is an astute listener. For us, his readers, the book is an invitation to join in his travels, albeit at a distance, and by doing so, to enrich our understanding not only of his characters and of how they thought, but of ourselves as well.Though the book is called Philosophers' Walks, Baugh has cast his net wide to include characters for whom the epithet "poet," "artist," or "writer" might sooner come to mind than "philosopher." No matter: all such labels are a touch arbitrary, and it's the thought that counts. So here they are, in chronological order (not the order in which they appear in the book): Pierre Grassendi, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Søren Kierkegaard, Friedrich Nietzsche, Virginia Woolf, André Breton, Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de... (shrink)

L’atmosphère« Atmosphère » est un terme employé communément par des auteurs dans le domaine de l’esthétique que dans celui de la météorologie. Ils le comprennent pourtant de manière assez différente, chacun prétendant que leur emploi est la plus fondamentale et que l’autre est seulement métaphorique. Pour les esthéticiens, l’atmosphère réelle est une aura qui émane des choses et qui affecte nos humeurs et nos motivations; pour les météorologistes, il s’agit de l’enveloppe gazeuse qui entoure la planète. Je montre que les (...) deux sens excluent l’air ou le réduisent à un éther immatériel. D’une part, pour la science météorologique, tout se passe comme l’air était enfermé à l’intérieur et considéré comme un ensemble d’effets mesurables et calculables. D’autre part,l’esthétique de l’affect a relié l’atmosphère aux formes solides des artéfacts et des paysages. En ramenant le medium aérien, je cherche une signification de l’atmosphère qui transcende l’opposition entre l’affectif et le météorologique. Je le fais en suivant Merleau-Ponty, qui traite l’atmosphère comme un espace d’inspiration et d’expiration. En tant que tel, il correspond étroitement à ce que Merleau-Ponty lui-même appelle la « chair ». Ce concept pourrait aussi être traduit par « meshwork » (réseau/filet/grillage), référant à ces faisceaux de lignes et de chemins par lesquels chaque être humain est cousu à la fabrique du monde. Pour Merleau-Ponty, la portée de la notion de chair réside dans l’affirmation que la perception est fondamentalement réversible. On ne peut être sentant que dans un monde sentant; c’est pourquoi, comme il le soutient, notre perception des choses dans l’environnement répond à la perception par l’environnementde notre soi. Cependant, je soutiens au contraire que ces deux mouvements d’inspiration et d’expiration ne sont pas le contraire exact l’un de l’autre. Comme le mouvement de la brasse en nataion, le premier est un mouvement de rassemblement et le second de propulsion. Nous inhalons l’atmosphère, mais nous exhalons selon les lignes du réseau. Bref, réseau et atmosphère sont deux côtés de la chair, et c’est dans leur alternance rythmique que nous trouvons la relation entre les lignes et le temps météorologique, qui est, comme je le soutiens, fondamental à la vie.L’atmosfera‘Atmosfera’ è una parola usata comunemente tanto da chi scrive di estetica come dai metereologi. Ciononostante, essi intendono con ciò delle cose piuttosto differenti, ognuno ritenendo che il proprio e il senso più fondamentale mentre l’altrui è meramente metaforico. Per chi si occupa di estetica, l’atmosfera reale è un’aura che emana dalle cose e affetta il nostro umore e le nostre motivazioni; per i metereologi è l’involucro gassoso che circonda il pianeta. Mostro come entrambi i sensi trascurano l’aria, o la riducono a un etere immateriale. Da una parte, per la scienza metereologica, è come se l’aria fosse stata portata al chiuso e presentata come una serie di effetti misurabili e calcolati. Dall’altra, l’estetica dell’affetto ha legato l’atmosfera alle forme solide degli artefatti e dei paesaggi.Nel reintrodurre l’ambiente aereo, intendo trovare un significato di atmosfera che trascenda l’opposizione tra i sensi affettivo e meteorologico. Faccio questo, seguendo Merleau-Ponty, trattando l’atmosfera come uno spazio di inalazione e esalazione. Come tale, corrisponde da vicino a ciò che Merleau-Ponty stesso chiama “la carne”. Ma questo concetto potrebbe anche essere tradotto come ‘reticolo’ (meshwork), riferendosi a quei grovigli di linee e percorsi lungo i quali ogni essere vivente è cucito al tessuto del mondo. Per Merleau-Ponty, il significato della carne risiede nella sua affermazione secondo la quale la percezione è fondamentalmente reversibile. Si può essere senzienti soltanto in un mondo senziente; quindi, ritiene il filosofo, la nostra percezione delle cose nell’ambienteè ricambiata dalla percezione che quest’ultimo ha di noi. Io mostro, al contrario, che questi due movimenti, corrispondenti all’inalazione e all’esalazione, non sono l’esatto rovescio l’uno dell’altro. Come nella bracciata a stile libero nel nuoto, il primo è un movimento di raccolta, il secondo un movimento di propulsione. Ovverossia, inaliamo l’atmosfera, ma esaliamo secondo le linee del reticolo. In breve, il reticolo e l’atmosfera sono due facce della carne, e troviamo nella loro alternanza ritmica la relazione tra le linee e il tempo che, come sostengo, è fondamentale alla vita. (shrink)

The paper follows Gottfried Semper's thesis that building – just like the textile – originates in practices of the knot. A comparison of the knot with dominant metaphors of the construction stone, the chain and the con tainer shows how knotting is inscribed in the fields of material, movement, perception and human relations. But the knot connects things with each other, instead of simply adding them; it is a connection by sympathy rather than by joints. That leads to a comparison (...) of tectonic and stereotomic aspects of building, especially of the wall. Is the wall constructed on the ground, like the skyscraper, or is it a fold in the ground itself, like the mountain? If one pursues the idea of the knot, one arrives at the latter conclusion. _German_ Der Beitrag greift Gottfried Sempers Perspektive auf, dass das Bauen wie das Textile ihren Ursprung in Praktiken des Knotens haben. Ein Vergleich des Knotens mit den vorherrschenden Metaphern des Bausteins, der Kette und des Behälters zeigt, wie sich das Knoten in die Bereiche des Materials, der Bewegung, der Wahrnehmung und der menschlichen Beziehungen einschreibt. Doch der Knoten verbindet Dinge >miteinander zusammenzufügen<, eher durch Sympathie als durch Gelenkverbindungen. Das führt zu einem Vergleich der tektonischen und stereotomischen Aspekte des Bauens, insbesondere der Mauer. Ist die Mauer auf dem Grund errichtet, wie der Wolkenkratzer, oder ist sie, wie der Berg, eine Falte im Grund selbst? Geht man vom Knoten aus, gelangt man zu letzterem Schluss. (shrink)

The paper follows Gottfried Semper's thesis that building – just like the textile – originates in practices of the knot. A comparison of the knot with dominant metaphors of the construction stone, the chain and the con tainer shows how knotting is inscribed in the fields of material, movement, perception and human relations. But the knot connects things with each other, instead of simply adding them; it is a connection by sympathy rather than by joints. That leads to a comparison (...) of tectonic and stereotomic aspects of building, especially of the wall. Is the wall constructed on the ground, like the skyscraper, or is it a fold in the ground itself, like the mountain? If one pursues the idea of the knot, one arrives at the latter conclusion. (shrink)

Shanker & King's (S&K's) dynamic systems approach converges with developments in social anthropological studies of communication which were long ago anticipated in the writings of Volosinov and Schutz. Following a review of these writings, this commentary suggests that a dynamic systems approach should distinguish communion from communication. It concludes with a remark on the evolutionary implications of the approach.

Human beings grow into cultural knowledge, within a social and environmental context, rather than receiving it ready made. This seems also to be true of cetaceans. Rendell and Whitehead invoke a notion of culture long since rejected by anthropologists, and fundamentally misunderstand the nature of ethnography. A properly ethnographic study of cetaceans would directly subvert their positivist methodology and reductionist assumptions.