The Ontology of language

This short post is about arresting phrases or quotations, or amulets. Such phrases or fragments are charged with a certain power. Like an amulet worn around the neck, these words might somehow shield or guide or console or sustain the one who held them close to mind and heart. I think of it, as a matter of these verbal amulets shaping our perception of the world. They form our thinking, our feeling, and our imagination in such a way that they transform how we see the world around us and how we conceive of the range of actions available to us. Powerful stuff indeed. I was, needless to say, drawn to the metaphor.

the evocative and elegant metaphor of the amulet, I would think of how Hannah Arendt once described Walter Benjamin’s historical method (and, by extension, her own). Arendt argued that Benjamin had the rare capacity for what she called poetic thinking, which “works with the ‘thought fragments’ it can wrest from the past and gather about itself.” “Like a pearl diver,” Arendt continued,

“who descends to the bottom of the sea, not to excavate the bottom and bring it to light but to pry loose the rich and the strange, the pearls and the coral in the depths and to carry them to the surface, this thinking delves into the depths of the past—but not in order to resuscitate it the way it was and to contribute to the renewal of extinct ages. What guides this thinking is the conviction that although the living is subject to the ruin of the time, the process of decay is at the same time a process of crystallization, that in the depth of the sea, into which sinks and is dissolved what once was alive, some things ‘suffer a sea-change’ and survive in new crystallized forms and shapes that remain immune to the elements, as though they waited only for the pearl diver who one day will come down to them and bring them up into the world of the living—as ‘thought fragments,’ as something ‘rich and strange,’ and perhaps even as everlasting Urphänomene.”

Arendt believed that the tradition of western thought had been, by the mid-19th century, broken. Deploying a memorable metaphor of her own, she spoke about the consequent need to “think without a banister.” “I always thought that one has got to start thinking as though nobody had thought before,” she added, “and then start learning from everybody else.” But, we need not undertake such thinking without any resources from the past. We can dive for pearls.

4. Arendt herself supplies me with another amulet (or pearl, if you prefer). In The Origins of Totalitarianism, she makes this almost passing observation:

“Ideologies are never interested in the miracle of being.”

The miracle of being invites contemplation not action, reverence rather than exploitation. To be wholly uninterested in the miracle of being is to be disposed toward the wanton and indiscriminate use of power over reality so as to bend it toward one’s own purposes.

5. To ward off such spirits, we might also don another amulet crafted by Simone Weil:

"We do not obtain the most precious gifts by going in search of them but by waiting for them.”

We know all too well how to seize, but we must remember how to receive.

6. I have of late thought much these lines from the late Czech playwright, dissident, and president, Václav Havel:

“Whenever I have encountered any kind of deep problem with civilization anywhere in the world [...] somewhere at the end of the long chain of events that gave rise to the problem at issue I have always found one and the same cause: a lack of accountability to and responsibility for the world.”

This particular amulet is indispensable because our techno-social environment is increasingly calibrated to obfuscate responsibility and outsource judgement.

7. I have for many years invoked this amulet from a sabbath poem by Wendell Berry. It is perhaps the briefest statement of my philosophy of technology!

“We live the given life, and not the planned.”

Bonus amulet also via Berry: “Thy life’s a miracle. Speak yet again.” That line is from “King Lear.” It is spoken by a loyal son, Edgar, who has convinced his blind, despairing father, Gloucester, that he has survived a great fall, one which the father had hoped would end his own life. In fact, Edgar, unrecognized by his father, had only pretended to lead Gloucester to a cliff’s edge. As Berry puts it, “This is the line that calls Gloucester back—out of hubris, and the damage and despair that invariably follow—into the human life of grief and joy, where change and redemption are possible.”

8. I am convinced that the cultivation of attention is one of the essential tasks before us. The 20th century philosopher and novelist Iris Murdoch has helped bring me to this conclusion. Here is one fragment to that effect:

“I have used the word ‘attention’, which I borrow from Simone Weil, to express the idea of a just and loving gaze directed upon an individual reality. I believe this to be the characteristic and proper mark of the moral agent.”

Bonus Murdochian amulet with profound epistemological implications: “Love is the extremely difficult realisation that something other than oneself is real. Love, and so art and morals, is the discovery of reality.”

9. Finally, I’ll leave you with one last amulet for our times. It comes from Ivan Illich, whose words are often on my mind.

“Learned and leisurely hospitality is the only antidote to the stance of deadly cleverness that is acquired in the professional pursuit of objectively secured knowledge. I remain certain that the quest for truth cannot thrive outside the nourishment of mutual trust flowering into a commitment to friendship.”

“I do think that if I had to choose one word to which hope can be tied,” Illich explained on a separate occasion, “it is hospitality.”

I invite you, if you are so inclined, to share any amulets you’ve found especially useful in the comments, which are open to all for this post.

Art has always fascinated me—not just as something beautiful or provocative, but as a force that’s intricately woven into the fabric of society. It’s easy to think of art as simply a reflection of our times, a mirror held up to the world. But in reality, art goes far beyond that. It doesn’t just reflect—it shapes, it questions, it pushes. And when I started looking at art through the lens of systems thinking, I began to understand its power in a much deeper way. 

It was Tony Fry who first introduced me to Niklas Luhmann and his thought-provoking discourse on society as communication rather than a collection of individuals. This idea fundamentally shifted my understanding of how culture, laws, and norms function. Luhmann’s systems theory helped me see the world as one large, interconnected system—each part communicating, creating meaning, and influencing the whole. And within that vast system, art operates as its own distinct sub-system.

Now, I’ll admit, Luhmann’s ideas can be dense, and my interpretations may not always hit the mark. His work invites a lot of different readings, and maybe I’m right, maybe I’m wrong in how I see it. But what I’ve taken from his perspective has helped me answer a deep personal question: What is the power of Art?

Art as a social system, as I understand it from Luhmann, operates with its own set of rules and internal logic. It’s self-referential, meaning it doesn’t need to play by the rules of other systems—whether that’s politics, economics, or even science. This autonomy is critical because it allows art to break free from external pressures. It can create without needing to answer to anything but itself. And in that freedom, art becomes a space for experimentation, for new ideas, for exploring perspectives that might be impossible elsewhere.

What fascinates me further is how, at the current intersection of AI and art, collective art creation becomes the space where we can reimagine and test worlds that can address solutions to fundamental ethical questions. As technology advances and society becomes more interconnected, the ethical challenges we face are more complex and harder to solve within traditional systems. Art, however, gives us a way to envision alternatives—to think deeply about the consequences of our actions and how we shape the future.

On Ecological Communication, Luhmann raises a question that I keep thinking about: “How can we discuss ethics in a society where every system has its own internal logic and no universal ethical framework can apply?” This question resonates strongly with me when I think about community led art. If every system—politics, economics, technology—has its own set of rules, where can we address ethics? I believe creating art together provides a unique space for these discussions. Through its capacity to communicate across boundaries, art becomes the place where ethical questions can be raised, examined, and even challenged without being restricted by the constraints of any single system. 

I find this autonomy to be one of the most exciting aspects of art. It’s what allows artists to push against the grain, to question societal norms, and to envision worlds that don’t yet exist. It’s in this realm of possibility that real change can begin. Through its unique logic, art can expose the cracks in the systems we take for granted, offering us a glimpse of something different—a new way of thinking and being.

What really intrigues me is how art can redefine meaning. We tend to move through life accepting certain norms as just the way things are. But art disrupts that flow. It challenges the way we see and understand the world, often by offering us an alternative reality, a version of events that makes us stop and think. And when we experience that, something shifts. We begin to realize that many of the things we thought were fixed are, in fact, constructed—open to interpretation, open to change. Art makes us aware that the world can be re-imagined.

There’s also something deeply reflexive about art. When we engage with a piece of art, we’re not just looking at it—we’re also looking at ourselves, at society. Art holds up a kind of external lens through which we can observe the world we’ve built. It’s like an invitation to step outside the usual flow of life and critically reflect on what’s happening. When art brings social issues into focus, it opens up a space for questioning, for rethinking the values and structures that govern us. It’s a powerful form of societal self-observation.

Another thing that strikes me is art’s ability to express the inexpressible. There are certain things that just don’t get discussed in everyday life. Some ideas, emotions, or experiences are too uncomfortable or complex to fit into the usual frameworks of conversation. Art, however, has the unique capacity to bring these things into the light. It gives voice to what is otherwise marginalized, ignored, or even silenced. And in doing so, it expands the boundaries of what we think is possible—what we can talk about, imagine, and ultimately change.

I also love thinking about art as a driver of social evolution. Luhmann argues that art plays a crucial role in this process, offering new interpretations and meanings that, over time, ripple out into other parts of society. Art is a kind of laboratory where we can experiment with new ways of seeing the world, and these experiments often permeate culture more broadly, influencing the norms and values that shape our lives. Art introduces new ideas, and as those ideas take root, they can transform old patterns and lead to genuine societal change.

Lastly, I see aesthetic innovation as one of art’s most significant contributions to cultural change. From where I see it, new artistic expressions often come before larger social transformations. When art disrupts familiar patterns of thinking, it can create a kind of cognitive dissonance—a discomfort that compels us to reassess what we thought we knew. This process of re-evaluation can lead to real shifts in how we, as individuals and societies, create the world.

In the end, I believe art is a dynamic, transformative force, capable of challenging the very foundations of society. by operating outside the usual constraints, it allows to introduce new meanings, reflect critically on the world, and foster the evolution of social norms. Maybe I’m still grasping the full depth of Luhmann’s discourse, but in my exploration, I’ve found an answer to Why art? At the current intersection and speed of change I hold on to art to imagine possibilities so that we can bring forth thenew paradigm I want my daughter and all children to live in.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this, feel free to email info@angelasierra.com