Ecology shows that living beings, with all their diversity, make up a homogenous system on the earth's surface, with rules that are no less exacting than those applicable to gravitational astronomy (celestial mechanics). The physical energy coming from the sun in the form of radiation is attracted by green plant-life, be it vegetation growing on the land or microscopic algae floating on the surface of the ocean; this energy is then transformed into chemical energy, with, incidentally, a modest yield, due to the process of chlorophyllian synthesis. This stage is the only one to include a productive process—an anabolism. Other sorts of living beings derive their energy and the elements necessary for their sustenance and multiplication from organic matter devised in this way. Some vegetarian animals feed on them and are in their turn prey to predators which are themselves devoured by other predators. Food chains, grouped in bunches or network systems, are thus established on the principle of a complex pyramid. Each consumer occupies a place at a trophic level, which is clearly defined, where he guarantees the conveyance of matter and energy which are degraded in accordance with the laws of thermodynamics. These biological mechanisms entail numerous species, ranging from the most elementary forms of life to birds and mammals. Decomposition agents then recycle the mineral elements and make them available to plants. In any given area, the inert chemical elements and the community of living beings (embracing all species) together constitute a biological entity or ecosystem, this is a kind of supraspecific organism which functions with a certain flexibility, and yet is ordered down to the last detail. Just as a man consists of a heart, lungs, a liver, so a natural community consists of “organs” which are each made up of one of the various constituent species. These ecosystems are the fundamental units of the living world and they are relatively independent of one another, although exchanges do occur between them. They all come together to form a balanced system which encompasses the whole complex of living beings. This is the biosphere, a gigantic mechanism with innumerable cogs and gears which have evolved in harmony with each other throughout the whole of history, going as far back as the first trace of life on earth.

Weber's studies of non-European (or non-Christian) religions constitute the largest part of his Sociology of Religion—comprising most of the Aufsaetze zur Religionssoziologie (1920-1923), as well as large parts of his treatment in Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft (1956). Included, as is well known, are relatively full-blown studies of Jewish, Chinese (Confucian) and Indian (Hindu and Buddhist) civilizations, and more dispersed, but very rich appraisals of diverse aspects of other religions. These studies are focused on the internal dynamics of religions and on their relations to crucial aspects of social structure—especially political organization, economic life and social stratification.

All the way back to the cave paintings and the invention of the first stone tools, what moved men to create was an everyday impulse. But it was an impulse in the everyday of men, not of animals. Whether we search for the beginnings of creativity either in art or in science, we have to go to those faculties which are human and not animal faculties. Something happens on the tree of evolution between the big apes and ourselves which is bound up with the development of personality; and once our branch has sprung out, a painter like Santi Raphael and a chemist like Humphry Davy both lie furled in the human beginning like the leaves in the bud. What the painter and the inventor were doing, right back in the cave, was unfolding the gift of intelligent action.

In Mexico the skeleton of the danse macabre, the skeleton of the “triumph of death,” has become a sugar candy. It has become a plaything, a caricature.

Why this caricature? The reasons for the contemporary Mexican's feeling about death must not be sought in some psychological defense mechanism consisting of macabre humor in face of an unhappy fate. One must not invoke the consequences of a pseudo-catholicism more or less colored by mystical masochism. Nor must one reduce it to the simple pagan heritage of a poorly defined indigenous past. One must go much further, because, after all, what is dying?

This article attempts to bring out the value of oral tradition as a source of data regarding peasant society and culture. Many subtle aspects of social interaction and attitudes that may be left out or distorted by the more formal and expensive techniques of data collection can be made accessible through a careful analysis of oral tradition. This useful source has scarcely been tapped so far. Its proper utilization for scientific purposes would, however, require the development of adequate techniques of analysis and interpretation. Methodological problems involved in the analysis of oral sources as found in peasant societies have also been raised, therefore, in this paper. Analysis of oral tradition is especially valuable for the study of peasant society. Its large volume and pervasive proximity to all aspects of peasant life makes it specially valuable as a source of data about peasant social structure and culture.

Since the word “History” has its origins in the domain of inquiry, I call myself an historian to the extent to which I have tried to study voyages of discovery in a manner as personal as possible, and I have presented the results of my work in a number of books and articles. The short study which follows is not an attempt to recapitulate what has already been published. Rather, I have tried here to present a brief synthesis of my reflections on one of the themes which I have undertaken to outline.

In a sense, man gradually fashions his world out of the whole cloth of infinity, and creates his universe by discovering it. Now to discover is not just to bump into something and perhaps forget it. To discover is to rend the veil, to give form to what is discovered, to communicate it and to pass it on. Consequently, discovery requires navigation; some form of cartography; and, perhaps most important, poetry, in order to pass on its heritage in an unforgettable way. And discovery, since the time of Homer, has three dimensions: the earth, the known sea, and, surrounding this little island of land and sea, the infinite ocean, origin and tomb of the Gods.

There is now no doubt that cultural contacts took place between the peoples of Asia and America during the Middle or Late Paleolithic Age. In the course of one particular period, betweeen 20,000 and 40,000 years ago, there came from Asia, in successive waves, the first groups who were to populate the American continent.

What still remains a mystery—the “enigma of the Indian race,” is the origin of a second generation of “homo americanus,” the founder of the high cultures. From the lest millennium B.C. onwards, some Central American tribes evolved with unexpected speed towards a superior level of culture, creating class distinctions, a priest-hood, religious creeds, an artisan class producing artistic works of great value, and a body of knowledge almost scientific in character. This development sprang from a basic culture which was possibly even inferior to that enjoyed by peoples in other parts of the world. This prompts several questions.

Respect for language, as everyone acknowledges, is a constant of French culture. It is no less clear, however, that the appraisal of language and of its powers and the notion formed of its essential nature vary from epoch to epoch. Intense philosophical, scientific and literary preoccupation with language and the age-old problems it raises is undoubtedly one of the most significant characteristics of pre-romanticism. The traditional respect for language, manifest İn discussions of inversion and of the importance of signs in the formation of ideas, is gradually transformed, when these discussions have run their course, into a cult of language in general and of the word in particular. Indeed, by much insistence on the primordial importance of language in the act of knowledge, thinkers such as Locke and Condillac, and after them Voltaire, Diderot, Maupertuis, Rousseau, Garat, and many others, eventually endow the instrument of thought with an autonomy that thought itself, subjugated by matter, was in danger of losing. “ Ah! Monsieur “, exclaims Diderot, combien notre entendement est modifi・ par les signes.” Minds seem to pass, at this critical moment of European reflection, from a purely intellectual conception of language—which, moreover, the Grammaire de Port-Royal barely distinguished from logic—to a mythological conception of its principal functions.