the properties of magnifying glasses and the science of sociology

My most pressing concern today is the presentation I must give in Philosophy class. I have to talk about Emile Durkheim, who I’ve read is a famous sociologist of the nineteenth century. (I hadn’t heard of him until last week, which is a sign that perhaps he is not so famous and not so relevant. I, however, know little about sociology, so I can’t comment on Durkheim’s relevance.)

It appears, however, that Durkheim is much more germane – at least to the field of sociology – than I realize. He was the first professor of sociology in France, and was primarily responsible for the creation of sociology as a social science. He was born in 1858, which was a good year because the pencil with an attached eraser was patented that year, and a not so good year because the Cape lion became extinct that year.  

Durkheim was less concerned with the Cape lion than I. His primary concern was the function of societies. He wrote about religion and morality and the division of labor. He was a big believer in the scientific method, which makes me much more sympathetic to his scant concern about the Cape lion. Science, in my opinion, is attractive in anyone, even long-dead sociologists who appear to have little effect on my everyday life.

The more I found out about his methodological, empiricist ways, the more pleased I was. I didn’t realize when I decided to do a presentation about Durkheim that his methods would mesh so pleasantly with my academic aesthetic. This meeting of the minds, as it were, is actually beginning to make me a little uncomfortable. Isn’t the point of these presentations to learn something different and unusual and uncomfortable? Isn’t that the point of an Intro to Philosophy class? But here I am, my faith in my usual ways of thinking – which were shaped early by Scientific American and Discover and a wonder at learning that I could fry ants with a magnifying glass – unshaken. Perhaps my research has not been in-depth enough, or my thinking has not been deep enough. These things are entirely possible, given the historical evidence  – my performance in Philosophy class is only intermittently good – and hearing a presentation on Theodor Adorno’s aesthetic theory has just strengthened my feelings of inadequacy (darn you, Katherine!).

This is the point, I know, when my mother would be telling me, “you never wanted to be a philosopher anyway, sweetie, so why does it matter?” Why does it matter? That’s a philosophical question for sure, and ending with it makes me feel a little more secure, like I’ve made some fascinating insight. (Even though I haven’t. Fascinating insights are not my strong point, hence the title of my blog.)

So I’ll leave you with this philosophical quandary: Do social realities exist independently of our perception of them? Perhaps you'll be too busy pondering it to ponder this this blog entry.