By Tabitha Bozeman
Clifford Geertz, an American anthropologist and theorist, said “it is not necessary to know everything to understand something,” and that often “small facts speak to large issues.” I haven’t stopped thinking about this since I read this 1973 essay the other day. He went on to say that the whole point of anthropological research is not to answer all of the greatest problems and questions humanity faces, or to nail down specific, universally applicable rational solutions to every problem. Instead, he says that researchers should “plunge into the midst” of these existential questions, gathering up experiences and ideas others have stumbled upon during their lives and studies in order to expand our own toolboxes of understanding. Geertz believed that “the power of scientific imagination [lies in its ability] to bring us into touch with the lives of strangers.”
This has stayed with me because I think many of us grow up feeling that science is incredibly impersonal, as focused as it is on the microscopic or the enormous as most of us are just going about our days worried about the everyday. We pass each other, sometimes interacting, sometimes bumping into each other’s orbits, but not really engaging other than superficially. And, there is something to be said for even the superficial level of engagement, as Susan Pinker points out in her TEDTalk about longevity. In her presentation, she shares the results of her own study where the top indicator as to how long an individual lives is most strongly predicted by a type of superficial interaction she calls “social integration.” This is the kind of chatting or recognition we often give complete strangers, or those we only know because they hand us our fast food order, or take our money at the bank, or answer our call at the school office. Pinker’s study showed that individuals who are willing to make eye contact with strangers, and even smile in passing, gift their brains opportunities to flood their systems with brain-protective chemicals that provide positive benefits long after the moment has passed. The little things in our social interactions add up to a much larger protective benefit than we would guess.
There are days – I’d guess a lot of them are Mondays, but I haven’t actually studied that – where I am just not feeling up to social interaction. I am exhausted, or stressed, or down, and I just really do not want to engage with anyone if I don’t absolutely have to. But, then I run into someone I don’t really know well but recognize and we chat for a moment. Or, I walk into class and hear students interacting with one another, realizing they have commonalities. Or, I might notice and compliment a cool pair of earrings a woman is wearing as we wait in line together at the DMV. Suddenly, I realize that my mood has lifted, and I am no longer dreading the rest of my day. I don’t know all of the ins and outs of the biological, social, emotional reasons for all of this, but like Geertz reminds us, I don’t have to.
And, I think the most important part of those moments is less about the self-serving side of “being nice to a stranger makes me feel better” than it is about the way acknowledging another person’s humanity enlarges imagination and empathy. Every single interaction – good, bad, or in between – is an opportunity to gather information and understanding about those around us. What makes people smile? What makes someone want to cut you off in traffic? What makes you feel patient enough to hold a door? What makes you exchange knowing glances with a complete stranger? It is easy to stay in our own little bubbles as we go about our days, but like the researcher, it is often worthwhile to “plunge into the midst” of the everyday, monotonous routines we create for ourselves because you never know when you might stumble across a moment, or a smile, or an observation that not only brightens your day, but maybe even illuminates a bigger, more universal issue. As Henry Miller wrote, “The moment one gives close attention to any thing, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself.”
Tabitha Bozeman is an instructor at GSCC. Email at tabithabozeman@gmail.com.
