When You’re a Link in a Chain, You’ll Always have the Chain

Life is interesting when completely independent events evoke the same thoughts and reflections. We know that sometimes this is due to a cognitive availability heuristic. We break our leg and are in a cast and suddenly we notice others in a cast; in fact, large numbers of people seem to be in casts. We experience one thought-provoking event and subsequent experiences reinforce the thoughts.

I learned recently of a man who lives in the same village that his family has occupied as far back as written records permit him to trace. His family has been sheep farmers for generation after generation. So, he knows as he walks his ewes and new lambs up the mountain each spring, that his grandfather, his great-grandfather and on and on, had walked the same trails each year. In his case, despite the messages of teachers that he was so intellectually gifted that he should be an academic, the wisdom of his farmer grandfather devalued the advice of teachers. He, like generations before, stayed on the farm and nurtured the same living things that his ancestors had done.

His thoughts on his choices had two apparently opposing perspectives, which, upon further reflection, are not at all in opposition. First, he said the fact that he was but one link in centuries-long chain was humbling. His one time on earth was not likely to be that significant in the broad sweep of time. This, he thought, was true of the generations in the past that worked the same farm. And so, those thoughts bred a type of humility that he found healthy for him.

Second, by staying on the farm, he enjoyed the respect of his extended family and of the local villagers (all of whom he knows). They gave him all the joy and satisfaction he desired. He was a core part of a community that worked together in many ways, to support one another, and to continue the enterprises that generations made possible. His full identity was fulfilled in that small social system. For him, his lineage and his community reinforced the feeling that he was part of a much larger whole, and the whole was good.

The second set of events were a few discussions with scholars from different fields. Some of the disciplines were built around scholarship that was the product of a single mind (albeit with the help of archivists and librarians). Others were organized about teams of faculty, with complementary skills and knowledge, which led to group products – articles, books, and other scholarly outputs. Finally, there was a third group within a discipline that was undergoing a transition from single scholar to collaborative works.

The events reminded me of the shepherd farmer. The group research forced a bit of humility on the participants. Each member knew that they were not the only source of guidance for the scholarship. Each was one link in a chain. They depended on the complementary knowledge of others. But also, they were respected by others for their own knowledge. They offered reciprocal gifts to their colleagues.

The scholars with group work also reported one other reaction. They had fun. It was fun working with other scholars on a shared project, to an extent they rarely attained working alone. The social side of academic work was enhanced through the group. When one ran out of ideas in grappling with the inevitable puzzles of a research project, another in the group came forward with new perspectives. They learned and discovered jointly. The group indeed became part of each member’s identity. Deep ties were possible. Further, for that research, it was clear that each person was part of a greater whole. For some, the shared experience forged a group identity that each member valued.

The farmer and the academics shared the value of linkage with others.