Many years ago, from about 10 to 14 years old, I used to spend 3 weeks each summer in a camp close to Cape Sounio, south of Athens. The camp was in a pine forest, and less than a kilometer from the Aegean sea at the Asimaki beach. My fellow campers for those 3 weeks were all boys of similar ages – there was a separate all-girls 3-week period as well. We lived in small wooden cabins, 4 boys per cabin. Each cabin comprised a group, 4 groups a community, and, oh, I don’t really remember any more the exact number, something like 10 communities made up the whole camp. Each cabin had two sets of bunk beds, against each of the two side walls, 4 cabinets for our clothes and toiletries on the wall between the bunk beds, and the door and a large window on the fourth wall. In the middle of the room, there was a table and chairs. The camp had a speaker system for announcements and the calls for morning rise, assembly, meals, siesta, and bed time.
Every day, except Sunday, we would be woken up by 6:30 am or so, go for physical exercise, then morning cleansing. We would then assemble for prayer and the raising of the flag, sing the national anthem, then march to the camp’s dining hall for breakfast. After breakfast, we would return to our cabins to prepare them for inspection: make our beds, fold our clothes in our cabinets, and clean the room. Each group was graded, and the top performer names were announced and congratulated during the evening assembly before dinner. After the inspection, we got ready and marched to the beach for the daily swim, then back to the camp for showering, then lunch. Following lunch was siesta time – its beginning and end punctuated by the speaker system – that we were supposed to spend quietly in our cabins. We were not supposed to be out playing, for example, and there were inspections to make sure we were not. When the siesta time ended, we had a snack, followed by a few hours of free time giving us the opportunity to play sports if we wanted to. At dusk, we assembled for the lowering of the flag and the announcement of the morning inspection grades, and then we marched to the dining hall for dinner. After dinner, we watched TV, a movie, played games, or sang songs together, until it was bed time, marked by the speaker system. On Sunday mornings, we went to a small church within the camp for mass, and it was also parents’ visiting day.
We all had a wonderful, memorable time, living in a pine forest next to the sea. But simultaneously with this wonderful life an intensive process of socialization was also taking place. Each day was broken up into time slots for different activities, for cleaning the living quarters, going swimming, eating meals, sleeping, being quiet, even free time had its own time slot. And all these activities were group-coordinated, we would clean our cabin together, pray together, eat meals together, all together at the same time. We also learned to respond to the speaker system signals telling us what was the activity we were expected to do, again all together, as a group. Group rituals, prayer, raising and lowering the flag, singing the national anthem, brought us all together in common religion and nationality. Our bodies learned to be mobilized. An interesting part of this socialization, that most of us at the time found quite amusing, was teaching us proper table manners: where to put the plate, the napkin, the fork, the knife, or the spoon, how to hold them, how to use them, and how to eat different kinds of food.
Of course we are all familiar with such socialization, in groups or as individuals. Schooling involves a similar process, with well-defined time slots, time signals, a different subject taught in each time slot, all sitting quietly in class, all together, as a group. Army drills and training, army life in general, are another example.
Socialization, individually as well as in groups, ensures the transmission from generation to generation of knowledge, skills, and abilities that are essential for the survival of a community. This is how language and general communication skills are transmitted, the domestication and cultivation of plants, hunting and fishing, making and using tools, cooking, and so on. Group socialization in particular is what ensures the coordination and integration of the individual activities. And taking part in such integrated activities, as well as in common rituals, creates the sense of belonging to a community.
After rereading your post I see that the group socialization in your example emerges from rather unconscious behavior of the members of the group. So, what happens when a member becomes conscious and exerts his/her “free will” in a different direction? What happens when a scientist
makes a paradigm shift long before the scientific revolution? Finally, is there “free will” at the group level?
I find the notions of “consciousness” and “free will” culturally and historically specific, inextricably linked with our ways of engaging with the material world – I plan to give examples in subsequent posts in the future. I have previously pointed out how little of what our body is continuously sensing and carrying out we are aware of. In short, there is a vast range of experience and activity over which the tiny light of consciousness may shine, illuminating just a sliver of this range at a time.
Turning to consideration of our “free will”, we act within the framework of our abilities and the features of our environment we are attuned to. That is, our “free will” is qualified by our abilities. To exercise our “free will”, we need to be able to act, and this ability precludes other abilities, other ways of acting. Our actions are in a very concrete sense guided by, channeled through our abilities. From this perspective, “free will” does not appear as a particularly helpful notion, even more so when our abilities and ways of engaging with the world have been developed through a socialization process aiming toward uniformity.
To understand our experiences and actions in terms of “consciousness” and “free will” involves the editing out, of pushing into the background, the activities of ours that we are not aware of, along with our abilities.
This brings up again the concern with emancipation. My view is that our freedom is to be found in the development of novel ways of engaging with the material world. I will return to this point in future posts.