The claim that culture is alive like an organism has gained traction in recent headlines. It starts from a classic example: the monastic chant that has been repeated for centuries. To us, the idea seems seductive, but it already appears problematic. When we speak of tradition, we are not describing a breathing being. We are talking about practices that were chosen, maintained, or abandoned.
The biological metaphor works because it offers us a narrative of continuity and inevitability. It turns historical differences into genetic variations, as if each ritual were an allele. This view simplifies the complexity of the social relations that sustain those rituals. Consequently, many readers accept the comparison without questioning.
However, by treating culture as an organism, we obscure who produces it and who controls it. The institutions that define what is “authentic” or “legitimate” are not neutral; they wield power. The language of biology tends to naturalize these decisions, as if they were laws of nature. This naturalization diverts focus from the political disputes that shape cultural heritage. We cannot let the metaphor prevent us from seeing who benefits.
Moreover, culture does not automatically replicate like a gene. It requires mediation, translation, and often resistance. When a monastic chant persists, it happens because specific communities keep it alive, not because it possesses an autonomous code. Cultural survival depends on conscious choices.
This conception has practical implications. Policies that treat culture as a renewable resource tend to prioritize static preservation rather than supporting creative renewal. Investments end up focusing on recognized “heritage,” while marginalized expressions are left on the fringe. The biological analogy, by glorifying stability, silences the need for transformation. We need to rethink the criteria that define what deserves to be maintained.
We therefore propose to view culture as a field of social practice, subject to dispute and renegotiation. This perspective places human agency at the center, recognizing both continuity and rupture. It allows us to question who decides what is “alive” and why. Thus, cultural criticism returns to being a tool of intervention, not mere observation.
Abandoning the biological metaphor does not mean denying the importance of traditions, but refusing its naturalization. When we stop speaking of living culture as if it were an organism, we reveal the power structures that sustain it. This clarity is what truly keeps culture pulsating.
