V: Mr Blottisham and the Pile of Individuals (or Mr Blottisham Attempts to Construct a Society)

St Anselm's Senior Common Room, Following Morning

Morning light had entered the common room reluctantly, as if uncertain whether the effort would be worthwhile.

Professor Quillibrace sat reading a newspaper.

Miss Elowen Stray sat nearby with tea and notebook open.

Mr Blottisham arrived carrying a small sack over one shoulder.

He lowered it onto the table with evident satisfaction.

There came the sound of stones shifting.

Quillibrace looked up slowly.

"...should I ask?"

Blottisham smiled.

"No need."

"I see."

"I have solved society."

Miss Stray looked up.

"The entire thing?"

"Yes."

He untied the sack and emptied a collection of stones onto the table.

Several rolled in different directions.

Blottisham gestured triumphantly.

"There."

Silence.

Quillibrace stared at the stones.

Then at Blottisham.

Then back at the stones.

"...I confess I require assistance."

Blottisham looked delighted.

"It is obvious."

He picked up a stone.

"This is an individual."

He pointed at the pile.

"This is society."

Miss Stray blinked.

"A pile of stones?"

"Exactly."

Quillibrace closed his newspaper very slowly.

"I had feared something of this sort."

Blottisham continued enthusiastically.

"First there are separate people. Then they interact. Large numbers of interactions create families, institutions, cultures, and societies."

He sat back with satisfaction.

"Society is simply lots of individuals together."

Quillibrace regarded him with a long expressionless stare.

"And so the inherited picture appears."

Blottisham smiled proudly.

"It does."

Quillibrace folded his hands.

"Individuals exist independently."

Blottisham nodded.

"Yes."

"They possess their own thoughts, values, and identities."

"Correct."

"Relations then emerge between individuals."

"Exactly."

"And society becomes the sum of these relations."

Blottisham spread his hands.

"Simple."

Quillibrace was silent.

Miss Stray tilted her head slightly.

"It does seem intuitive."

"Very."

Quillibrace nodded.

"One sees people. One sees interactions among people. One concludes that individuals come first and society comes afterwards."

Blottisham looked pleased.

"Finally."

Quillibrace looked at him.

"Mr Blottisham."

"Yes?"

"How exactly does an isolated individual become social?"

Blottisham frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Language?"

"Oh."

"Learned through others."

"Oh."

"Meanings?"

"Oh."

"Practices, roles, expectations, norms?"

Blottisham's expression began slowly collapsing.

"Oh dear."

Miss Stray looked thoughtful.

"Even the categories through which we understand ourselves."

Quillibrace nodded.

"Parent."

"Oh."

"Friend."

"Oh."

"Nation."

"Oh."

"Promise."

"Oh no."

Silence settled.

Blottisham looked suspiciously at his stones.

Miss Stray was writing rapidly.

"So what looked individual already seems dependent upon relations."

"Quite."

Blottisham frowned.

"Still, individuals remain individuals."

"Certainly."

Quillibrace nodded.

"But consider something else."

He leaned forward slightly.

"If society were merely a collection of independent units..."

He gestured lightly.

"...then removing relations should leave the individuals largely intact."

Blottisham nodded uncertainly.

"I suppose so."

"But changes in institutions alter behaviour."

"Oh."

"Changes in relationships alter identity."

"Oh."

"Changes in language alter possibilities for meaning."

Blottisham stared at the table.

"Oh no."

The stones had somehow become accusatory.

Miss Stray looked up.

"So the social environment does not merely surround individuals."

"No."

"It participates in shaping the conditions through which individuality itself emerges."

"Precisely."

Blottisham stared at his pile of stones as if discovering betrayal at geological scale.

"So society isn't simply built from individuals."

"No."

"And individuals don't simply appear first."

"No."

"Oh dear."

Quillibrace leaned back.

"Suppose instead that individuals and societies emerge together through ongoing relations."

Miss Stray nodded slowly.

"So individuality becomes something continually actualised."

"Yes."

"Not possessed in isolation."

"Quite."

Rain had begun again outside.

The fire murmured quietly.

Blottisham sat staring at the stones for some time.

Eventually he spoke.

"I have had a troubling thought."

Quillibrace looked unsurprised.

"Again?"

Blottisham frowned deeply.

"If society is not merely a pile of individuals..."

He looked anxiously at the sack.

"...why exactly have I spent all morning collecting stones?"

Quillibrace considered this.

"An excellent question, Mr Blottisham."

A pause.

"Possibly geology."