At 08:04 PM 4/26/96 EDT, you wrote:
>>fact that talking about control evokes such a visceral response in all of us
>>is relective of the fact that our society/culture has successfully
>>controlled/coerced us into a style of thinking that encourages autonomy
>>and characterizes any sort of infringement on this autonomy as immoral.
To quote from an old _&_ venerable source, Ron & Suzanne Scollon describe
our sense of individuality ("modern consciousness") as a function of
conformity:
"What is experienced by the modern consciousness as individuality is a
boundedness, an isolability.... One is distinct, perhaps, from all others,
but not by any means independent. Each (individual) component is a part
of a large system on which it crucialy depends for survival as well as
self-definition...."
They compare the individuality of "modern consciousness" to an Athabascan
sense of individuality ("bush consciousness") as follows:
"The individual of the bush consciousness is assumed to be a viable
unit of survival under extremes of isolation and environmental duress....
The bush consciousness individual knows an autonomy and self-containment
that is perhaps characteristic only of whole social groups for the modern
consciousness...."
The Scollons, in other words, turn the myth of western individuality on its
head. We sanctify the idea of the individual, but subject individuals to the
rule of law, the rule of the system. To social conventions. In contrast,
according to the Scollons, for Athabascan individuals, who live in
tribal units, nonintervention & mutual respect for the individuality of
others is assumed.
I can tell a story here, about a boat trip I took with some friends from a
village in Northwest Alaska. They were not Athabascan, and I don't mean to
diminish the cultural differences between indigenous Alaskan groups. But
similarities with respect to what the Scollons call "modern consciousness"
are evident to us of "modern consciousness."
It was an exquisite, summer midnight trip up sloughs to gather birch
for smoking fish. There were five of us in the boat; all but me
were from the village & had grown up together, as in an
extended family. One was virtually deaf (I'll call him Bud), but he
communicated efficiently with the others by signals I didn't always
notice. At one point our helmsman (I'll call him Wayne) stopped the
boat abruptly, Bud ran across the shallow slough to the sloping hillside, and
up... A few minutes later he was back, his cap decorated with wildflowers.
He climbed back in the boat, we resumed our birch hunting, and no one said
a word. Were there quiet smiles? I seem to remember so. As for me,
I was so startled and delighted that the absence of comment seemed
constraining.
I can't imagine a group of people of "modern consciousness" indulging the
impulse of one member to stick flowers in his cap without commenting, without
marking the event as a deviation from the norm, without laughter, hoots,
jokes.
- Judy
Scollon & Scollon, 1981. _Narrative, Literacy, and Face in Interethnic
Communication_. Ablex.
Judy Diamondstone
Graduate School of Education
Rutgers, the State University of New Jersey
10 Seminary Place
New Brunswick, NJ 08903
diamonju who-is-at rci.rutgers.edu
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