“Once human behavior is seen as…symbolic action—action which, like phonation in speech, pigment in painting, line in writing, or sonance in music…– the question as to whether culture is patterned conduct or a frame of mind, or even the two somehow mixed together loses sense…The thing to ask is what their import is…” (Geertz, “Thick Description,” 1973, 10)

As I read Geertz’ work on “thick description,” our discussions regarding history and historiography shadowed my thoughts. It seemed a natural extension of materials related to cultural historiography and I found myself trying to find a clearer connection between the essay and my perspective on historical methods.  With that aim in mind, I found two points from Geertz’ essay particularly compelling as a basis for developing a sensibility about historical methodology that could prove to be more nuanced in relation to the issue of culture.

First was the idea that it is necessary to look at actual behavior—events—rather than “abstracted entities” made to fit into “unified patterns” when considering a cultural system (Geertz, “Thick Description” 1973, 17). This practice can help to avoid many of the pitfalls of ‘thin description’, as well as of the abstracted analysis that attempts to fit behaviors into a(n) (over)generalized understanding of culture.

The second concept that I found particularly compelling was the idea that cultural coherence as a basis for ethnography or anthropology (and, I think, for historiography as well) is overrated (Geertz, TD, 17-18). First of all, Geertz says that an element of systems (including cultural ones) is coherence.  Geertz’ contention that coherence is overrated (“…there is nothing so coherent as a paranoid’s delusion or a swindler’s story,” p. 18) appears meant to emphasize important elements the nature of the act of interpretation itself.

His position seems to be that interpretation is a natural part of constructing understandings of culture and that the quality of the interpretation can allow the basis for the interpretation to shine through, or be further obscured allowing cultural significances to remain obscured (18).  Coherence, while a seemingly logical and appealing means of interpreting culture, may distort interpretations of culture.  Such a reliance on coherence may be another way of confusing ‘thick’ and ‘thin’ descriptions in a manner similar to Geertz’ thought that one might confuse “knowing how to wink as winking” (12).

Following my critical analysis of Weinberger’s use of the term ‘expert’ in my last post, I now consider his discussion on the fluidity and interactivity of the internet. I find these concepts making a deep impression on me though leading to more mixed conclusions about the nature of books versus the internet than those of Weinberger. The most fascinating part of his discussion begins with his introduction of historian of books, Robert Darnton, who expresses frustration at trying to convey history through the long-form arguments of books and who seeks a nuanced way to hybridize books and digital networks.

Darnton’s statement that books make it difficult “to communicate the fathomlessness of the archives and the bottomlessness of the past,” is a perfect example of the lack of fluidity, of interactivity, and of the possibility of expanding discussions beyond the boundaries of books that Weinberger wishes to investigate in his exploration of the internet (Weinberger 2011, 95). Darnton’s desire to “show how themes criss-cross outside my narrative and extend far beyond boundaries of my book” seems to lead effortlessly to the notion that the internet can solve these difficulties and open up the limitations that books may hold (95). It is possible however, that both Darnton and Weinberger generalize about the nature of books. Are books of poetry and mathematics linear and leading? And alternatively, aren’t many oral narratives linear?

I was intrigued by Darnton’s use of a pyramid metaphor to show how books could be restructured to include some of the positive ‘capabilities’ of the internet (95). His discussion of the pyramid reminded me of discussions in my Comparative Law class regarding the differences between, on the one hand, civil and common law, and on the other, Talmudic law. This discussion led me to remember a very old system that I believe encompasses the positive fluidity and interactivity associated with the internet, yet also makes great use of the bound book.

The use of the pyramid was diametrically opposed in the civil/common and Talmudic strands of legal thought. Civil and common law included absolutes at the base of the pyramid, with few refinements or adjustments, which developed as the pyramid narrowed toward the closed/bounded top. Talmudic law used/uses an inverted pyramid—actually similar, but upside-down—to the one that Darnton describes as a way to structure a book “in layers” in order to open up its possibilities (95).

In the Talmudic pyramid, the bottom was the ‘word’ (of God). It rested on the narrowest part of the pyramid, its pointed tip. Again paralleling Darnton, occurring at the next wider level were clarifications of the torah’s arguments. The top and widest levels of the pyramid would, like Darnton’s widest layer, consider and discuss previous scholarship. This layer was never considered bounded in Talmudic scholarship. A predominant Talmudic ideal is that all discussion related to the ‘word’ is part of the very nature of it and necessary to its understanding. Talmudic discussion, therefore, is intended to be inclusive of differing perspectives and is certainly not consensus building in the strictest sense.

The Talmud then, seems to be an early example of networked knowledge that hybridizes the book with the open discussion ‘capabilities’ of the internet (although men were the only accepted contributors traditionally). As time went on, many of what became considered the most important contributions (through open dialogues where expertise was considered largely through quality of one’s participation—or ‘attempt’ in Latin) were set down in a newly bound volume, but the idea that the discussion was/is never complete remains inherent within Talmudic study.

This circles back to a vital point made by Weinberger. Just because the internet can afford the “possibility of connecting across boundaries, forming expert networks that are smarter than their smartest participants,” doesn’t mean that the possibilities will come to fruition (91). As he says, we must “…want to be smarter” (91). Perhaps my dilemma regarding the internet is less about what it can offer than about what society appears to ask from it.