Interdisciplinary Approach: Knowledge in the Structure of Wholeness
True understanding comes when we see the connections between things, not their separateness.
The modern school system is structured around disciplinary segmentation. Each field of knowledge exists within its own logic: literature stands apart, as does mathematics, history, physics, biology—each operating with its own set of concepts, language, and objectives. For all its external rationality, this structure increasingly generates a sense of dissonance between the content of education and what could be called the ontological structure of life itself.
Life, unlike curricular programs, is not fragmented. It unfolds through continuous transitions, overlaps, and intertwinings. When a person encounters a real-life situation, they do not experience it as “physics,” “literature,” or “biology” separately—they face a whole. And if the knowledge acquired at school fails to align with this structure of wholeness, it ceases to be applicable. More than that—it loses its sense of significance.
From this perspective, fragmented learning leads not only to loss of motivation, but to something deeper: a sense that knowledge does not correspond to reality. I recall a phrase once spoken by a high school student during a discussion: “I know how cell mitosis works, but I don’t know why I know it.” This remark feels symptomatic. It does not signal protest—it signals a lack of connection. Not only between subjects, but between knowledge and life.
It is in this context that the interdisciplinary approach acquires a different kind of meaning. We are not talking about the superficial integration of themes or a mechanical blending of programs, but rather about the restoration of coherence—as a way for knowledge to become present within reality.
“The parts can only be understood within the context of the whole; the living world is a network of relationships” (Capra, 1997).
Philosophy and science, beginning in the mid-20th century, increasingly emphasize interconnectedness as the foundation for understanding the world. Fritjof Capra, discussing quantum physics and ecosystems, notes that “the parts can only be understood within the context of the whole; the living world is a network of relationships” (Capra, 1997). Martin Buber, in a more humanistic key, wrote: “Man becomes ‘I’ only in relation to ‘Thou’” (Buber, 1970). The same principle—expressed through different lenses.
Neuroscience supports this view as well. The brain is not organized as a system of isolated compartments. Rather, it is a web of intersecting neural pathways, where any new element reshapes the configuration of the whole. Nobel laureate Gerald Edelman wrote that the brain is not a computer-like mechanism, but a living ecosystem of interconnected structures—each new thought reshapes these connections. According to his theory of Neural Darwinism, learning is not the accumulation of discrete informational units, but the redistribution and reinforcement of neuronal groups (Edelman, 1987).
Lev Vygotsky expressed a similar idea: he believed that thinking arises only within a sociocultural context—through dialogue, not in isolation (Vygotsky, 1987). That’s why learning that treats disciplines as disconnected domains is not only ineffective, but also unnatural—it contradicts the very structure of thought and life.
I recall an example I once witnessed in a school. Students were studying Ibsen’s A Doll’s House in literature class while simultaneously learning about the Victorian era in history. Then, in social studies, they discussed how social norms shape human behavior. The teacher made no special summaries or emphases. Yet during one discussion, a student said: “I used to think the heroine was just selfish. Now I see that this was the only way she could stay true to herself.” This shift—from judgment to understanding—emerges precisely when a subject becomes not just content, but part of a shared field of meaning.
I also remember another case. In one school, the topic of migration became the subject of interdisciplinary inquiry. In history, students analyzed the political and economic causes of 20th-century migration waves. In geography, they studied population movements, urbanization, and demographic changes. In literature, they read texts reflecting experiences of displacement, loss of home, and adaptation. In social studies, they explored legal aspects of citizenship, refugee status, and social integration. And in visual arts, they created posters and infographics combining facts, imagery, and personal stories.
This is why the interdisciplinary approach should not be seen as a pedagogical technique, but as a means of restoring wholeness—the very wholeness whose loss, whether in culture, personality, or cognition, inevitably breeds disorientation. We cannot understand the world if we learn outside its structure. And we cannot live meaningfully in the world if our learning lacks connection.
Further reading:
Buber, M. (1970). I and Thou (W. Kaufmann, Trans.). Charles Scribner’s Sons.
Capra, F. (1997). The Web of Life: A New Scientific Understanding of Living Systems. Anchor Books.
Edelman, G. (1987). Neural Darwinism: The Theory of Neuronal Group Selection. Retrieved from Link
Vygotsky, L. (1978). Mind in Society: The Development of Higher Psychological Processes. Retrieved from Link
