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the more traditional forms of philosophy." In the United States, when
criticized by some American ethnologists for his "idealism," his "men–
talism," or what they called the
"U~vi-Straussian
truths,"
he would
defend his work tirelessly, recalling his respect for investigative research,
observation, and ethnographic inquiries, stressing the rigor of his
"inductive approach" and his "patient investigations." He rejected
accusations of "playing with abstract concepts disconnected from real–
ity...and of following paths unfairly mistaken as being hyperintellec–
tual." Why did he defend himself with such ardor? Could it be that he
now wanted
to
prove that the French philosopher in him was dead?
The cross-fertilization which the American foundation fostered
between American and French social sciences was largely due to the
efforts of Levi-Strauss-who also became one of its many beneficiaries.
He had come back
to
France at the right time, when this collaboration
had just begun. In the years that followed, he earned the highest acco–
lades of French academia: he became lecturer at the Ecole des Hautes
Etudes, secretary general of the International Council of Social Sciences
at UNESCO, professor at the College de France; he founded the Labora–
tory of Social Anthropology, and was eventually elected to the Academie
Franc;:aise. By
I960,
Levi-Strauss had become the undisputed master of
French ethnology. He founded
L'Homme,
a publication modeled after
the
American Anthropologist,
and had become one of the few French
social scientists with a universal reach. Who else could have ventured
into such daring territories as comparing Bergson's work with Sartre's,
and meditating on metaphysics by the standards of Sioux Indians?
Had the man who returned to France in December of
I947
opened
"every door giving way to other worlds and to all times"? In any event,
he re-entered the French intellectual world a changed man. He felt
"deep gratitude toward the United States" for "the helping hand" which
had "saved his life," and the "intellectual environment and resources"
that had been made available to him. He returned with a strong feeling
of indebtedness. In spite of the exceptional offers which would later
come from many universities, including Harvard, he chose to remain in
France, happy to "renew his small bohemian existence, preferring his
Saturday morning visits to the flea market to the charms of Cambridge,
Massachusetts," and recovering the mutilated part of his name, to again
become Claude Levi-Strauss. Later, he would write, "I knew that every
fiber in me belonged to the Old World, forever."
