Across The Boundaries Of Belief: Contemporary Issues In The Anthropology Of Religion

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Across the Boundaries of

Belief

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Across

Contemporary Issues in the Anthropo ogy of Re

A Merrlbcr of the Persells Baaks Group

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A full list of dcknowtedgments c m be found on page 404, which is a continrzdtion of this copyright page* AI1 rights served. d. Printed in the United States o f h ~ ~ e r i cNo a . part of this publication may be reproin any form or by any ineans, electronic or rx~echallical,including photocopy, duced or tra~lsxl~itted recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without perlnissio~lin writing from the ~wuhiiser.

Copyright 6 1999 by BTestviewPress, A Member of the Perseus Books Croup c a Westview Press, 5500 Central Avenue, Boulder, hblished in 1999 in the United States of h ~ ~ e r i by Colorado 80301-2877, and in the United Kingdom by Wesmiew Press, 12 Hid's Copse Road, C ~ ~ m n o r Hill, Oxford 0x2 91) A GIP cataiog record for this book is available fmrn the Library of Congress, ISSN 0-8 133-2694-X ( h a r c i t c o ~ r ) , ~ I S S0-81 N 33-2595-8 (paperbad)

The paper used in this publication meets the reqrtire131ellts of the knerican Natio~lalStandard for Permanence of &per for Pril~tedLibrary ilildterials Z39.48-1984.

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Contents

vii

Part f Colonialism and Pastcobnial Legacies 1 Anthropologists tiersus Missic>naries:The Inf-ltzenceof

Presuppositions, Claude B Stipe: 2 From Tup2 to the Land Mdithout Evil: The Christianization of Tuyi-Grrarani Cosmology,

judith Shapiro 3 Shamanism ancl Christianity: Modern-Day Ttingit Elders Look at the Past, Sergei Kart 4 Reflections on Christianity in China, Murton H, FrZ'e~i

Part 2 Gender and Sexualiv 5 Menstruation ancl Reymduction: An Ogtafa Case, Pulurla N.Power5 6 The t>omestication of: Religion: The Spiritual Guardianslzip of Elderly Jewish Wcfmen, Susan Sered 7 Becoming a iUujerciltz: Rituals, Fiestas, and Religious Discourses, Valerztirza MapaZitanu 8 Erotic:Anthroy c~logy:""Ktualized Homosexuality" in Melanesia and Beyond, Debomh A. EZtktorz

h r t3 The Healing Touch and Altered States 9 Exorcists, Psychiatrists, and the Problems of Pc>ssession in Northwest Madagascar, LesIey A. Sfzarp

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f 0 The VIJornan Milzo Wanted To Be Her Father: A Case Analysis

of Uylrbuk Possession in a Hasidic Community, Voram Bilu 5 1 Hypnctsis and Trance Induction in the Surgeries of Brazilian Spiritist Healer-Mediums, Sitilzq M Crcctzfield 12 Zar as Modernization in Contemporary Sudan, Susan iZ.I, Kenycarz

Part 4 Religion and the State 13 Pockets Full of Mistakes: The Personal Consequences of Religious Change in a Toraja Village, Dotcglas fillan 14 Bandits, Beggars, and Ghosts: The Failure of State Control over Keligious Interpretation in Yaiwan, Robcrt P. Weller 15 Muslim Identity and Secularism in Conteunpc~raryTurkey: "The Headscarf Dispute;"melie A, Olsorz X6 The Interpretation of hlitics: A Hopi Conundrum, Peter M. Wt~ittlkey

h r t5 Changes and Cbntint-lities f K a r g o i s m in Irlan JayaTod;ty, Betzrty Giay U P ZJan ~ A. Gol;fSchalk f X Transnational. Popufar Culture and the Global Spread of

tlze famaican Rastaparian Movement, Neil 1, Savislzinsky 19 On Founders and Followers: Some Factors in tl-te Development (4f Wew Keligious Mt~vements,BenPon Jaizlzson 20 Convicted by the Holy Spirit: The Khetoric of

Fundamental Baptist Conwrsion, Szlsan E Hardz'ng

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Preface

This book of readings is designeel to help students became acquait~tedwith cantemporary scholars of religion at work, collecting and interpreting their own fietdwctrk or archivaf data and retating their findings to the work of others. It is offered as a supplement to textiboaks on the anthropology of religion, which by tlzeir very nature summarize the history of this discipline, its theories, and its approaches. These readings were selected to affow for the temyctrary suspension of both textbook and instructor and to hcilitate student access to the immense array of scl~olarlywork mailable on the anthropological study of religion and religious motrernents. By its very nature a colfectlon of readings reflects the choices and perspectives af its eclitors. The subtitle of this coflection, Conterr~poruryIssues i~ the Arztktropo20gy of Religion, guided our consideratic~nand discussion. We attempted to avoid traditional topics extensivefy covered elsewhere and settled upon five broad areas tlzat we believe resonate particularly in current scholarship on religion. We chose articles that explored and illustrated these topics: Colonialism and Postcolonial Legacies, Gender and Sexuality, The Healing Touch and Altered States, Religion and the State, and (perhaps inevitably) Changes ancl Continuities. Still, the material available is immense, W sorzght geographic distribution: papers representing as many different regions of the wcjrlcf and types of cultures as we cauld given inevitable space limitations. We included articles tlzat reflect original fietd or archival research or imaginative reordering of classic research. W sought articles that broke new ground, asked new and imyctrtant questions, challenged ofd views and interyre-etations,We focused a n anthroyotogical questions and methods; therefore, the vast majority of articles included are based in part on fietdwcjrk and "on the ground" data coflectictn. And above all, W wanted papers tlzat eschewed jargon, were accessible to students, and h n to read, The Ceneraf Intrc>duction and the introductory essays that precede each section explore some of the majrtr themes fcjund thrctughout the readings; they also raise questions h r discussion. A setection of suggested readings is included for each section to guide students interested in pursuing research on any of these topics (see page 4-03).These suggested readings are nctt exhaustive but will provide an entrCc, througlz their cantent ancl references, to a wider range of works a n particular subjects. In this and ail our essays, we provide few hnite ansrers and seek primarily to stirnufate additionat inquiry.

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We owe an enctrmous debt of gratitude to the authors of the articles included in this collection. Their agreement to participate in this undertaking has made this book possible. W also thank the publishers of the journals in which these articles appeared for their cooperation, Special thanks are clue to Mary Wiencke of- Barnard College and Veronica Olazabel of Columbia University, who both assisted us so greatly in the collection of articles and preparation of manuscript copy. Thankcs also to Earl Varnbert of Westview Press for his unti-ailing enthusiasm for this project, and to Dean Birkenkamp, withcrut whose encouragement this proirect wcruld never have g~)tten off the ground, We acknowledge the enthusiasm and colfegiafity of our colleagues in the Anthropology fleyartment at Barnard College, who created the prodrzctivc environment within which this work was formed. And to the Kfass, Weisgrau, and Pafazzo families go our gratitude atways for their patience and nurturing support.

Pulortorz KIass Maine, Weisgmu New Visrk, New York

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Introduction

ANvrHRoPoLa(iY, ANTHRoPoLoGlsTs L I K E *rc> BELIEVE, is a magnificently broad disciytine, encompassing everything that has to dcr with the human species from its earliest beginnings to aff the current varieties of human behavior and interest-or, in a word, everything we call cutrzrre, Xt would be reasanable, then, to assume tlzat the anthropological study of relkiorz-which, after all, is only one small subdivision of culture-should be limited and manageable, WeIl, it isn't. Perhaps that is because the values, assumptions, perceptions, and activities that go to make up rel'ig;lonserve as the bases, or points of departure, for pretty much exrything else that humans do or think: social relations, choice of actions, understanding of cause and effect, conclusions about purpose and meaning. As we slzall see in this collection of: readings, religion has political anci gender dimensions; religir~nis often expressed in violence but is alst:, a sour= of tranquitity and l-xoye;and religion can be tlze buttress of tradition and continuity and-sametimes at tlze very same time-the fountainhead of dizzying change, Thus, despite the wide range of topics covered by the chapters in this vt)lume, they do not-and can not-exhaust the possibilities of the anthropological study of religion. One reason, perhaps, for this s p r a d of topics is that anthropologists have been drawn to the subject of religion since the dawn of the discipline, Every theoretical stance ever Fashionable in anthropology's intellectual lzistory lzas been brought to bear on the subject of religion, and field researchers in every ccrrner of the globe have tried to document or at least report back on the diverse beliefs and varied religious practices they encountered in their fieldwork. And this is odd, when you think abotzt it, because most anthropologists have been either nt~nreligiorzs themselves or staunch adl-rerents of Western belief systems that provided little roam for sympathy for the questionable beliefs of benighted "otlzersP It may be that the contintzing, unending, anthropological interest in refigion reflects the tensions of European values and beliefs in conflict with those of other places and times-and maybe (perhaps even more likely) it reflects the unavoidable claslz of ""science" and ""belief "-any betief. Clearly, there are a number of uncomfortable issues here h r anthrctpologists and anthropology, and-perhaps understandably-the= is a tenciency to skirt arorznd them, Let tzs be brave and immediately raise a few of these issues and questicrns.

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Is religion an intrinsically similar and universal human enterprise, whether it takes place in a cathedral in Europe or a sacred site in Tierra del Fuego? Moreover, is it the same thing, whether it invc>lvesthe sacrifice of a goat to yltacate a long-dead ancestor? a deep trance to summon a spirit, a prayer to a sentient and omnipotent ruler of the universe, or a meditation seeking to explore one's innermost being! Whatever it includes or excludes, can it be simply dismissed as empty ""sperstition" or "false sciencen-or need it necessarily be treated as the most profound and meanitlgftll encieavor human beings can engage in? And who decides"?~ all means step tzp to the yltate and take yotzr own swing! tension between the belie& of anthropotogists and The seemingly unat~c~idabte tlze beliefs of the peaplc they study has been expressed over the years in many ways. 2% begin with, whtrse religion are we entitled to study? If you define anthropology as "the study of primitive peoplen-an unfortunately common tendency until quite recendy-hen the anthropological focus must be on ""pimitive religion." Soxne antl-tropologists have in the past urged there be na doubt about that: I should make it clear at the outset that I shall be primarily concerned orrly with theories about the reiigio~lso f primitive peoples. More general discussions about religion outside those limits are peripheral to my subject (E. E. Evans-Pritchard 11965:1).

But doesn't such a statement require a defense or at least an explanation? H t ~ w may a line be drawn betwen supposedly ""c;vilizedS"belief systems (srrcl-r as, presumably>Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism own list) and the other belief systems to be ft3t1nd among yeoyltes all over the w r l d ? And why is it even necessary to draw such a line? X t is possible t l ~ a Evans-Pritcl~ard's t classic assertion (that anthropology is or should be concerned only with prirraitive religic>ns) reflects at least in part an assumption that anthrctyotogists either subscribed to a Western religion, such as Christianity or Judaism-or subscribed ta no belief system but that of science. If the former, then the anthrc3pofogist was likely to consider the alien religion being studid to be hll of errors, supersdtions, silfy or obscene pradicres, and so clearly ""primitive'hhen campared to the anthropologist's belief system. And if the latterif the anthrc3pofogist pri~atelyconsidered at! religions nonsensical-then perhaps the anthropologist had better tread carefully. In any case, there has aiways been danger for nonbelievers or nanconformisl?i in incurring the wrath of ecclesiastic authority, a scholars have kntrwn since Michael Semtus was burned at the stake and Spinoza was exctbmrnunicated and Galileo was forced trt recant, Times have changed-maybe-since scholars, at least in Europe, feareci reprisals for their beliefs or interpretations, btzt some still feel it is better tcr amid precipitating ofknse: We may note in passing that when W speak o f the pri~nitivewrid it Is permissllhle in any civilized cornpally to refer to supernaturalism.With reference to our own so-

ciety, I-rotvever,it Is often regarded as a mark o f militant: atheism to refer to orxr religit~usfaiths as wpernaturalism, No attack of this sort is here intended (Norbeck 1961: 12-13).

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Norbeck" prczposed distincticzn, however, will no"rhold once we drop the word ""pimitive" as well as the assumptions associated with it-and we must, Human societies differ in innumerable ways in technology, social relationships, values, beliefs, and, indeed, everything else, but alf the efhrts to arrange societies on some sort of continuum from "pimitive" to 'kisili.~.ed"have crasheci ignorniniorzsly. It is not that ""all societies are equat" or that ""value judgments cannot be made"; in fact, value judgments about other peoples and what are seen as their silly or repulsive or admirable ways are made all the time by everybociy, The problem for anthroyc->logistsand fbr contemporary anthropology is that all such judgments are ixzevitably subjective, personal, and arbitrary Suppose T say that human sacrifice is disgusting anci animal sacrifice is unpleasant, anci that in my view any religion that condones such things is clearly '"rimitive""2uppose you reply that any religion that condones warfare involving human destruction by means of such agents as napafm and nuclear devices is, in your view, even more clearly ""pimitise'? And suppose somebody else says we are both right-bow shall we adjudicate fairly and objectively? The issues are imycjrtant and deserve attention and debak, but surely not by anthropologists whctse j o b h a r d enough as it is-is to describe accurately anci compare and analyze meaningfully. The mcrnumental nature of the currentfy available ethnographic literature is in itself a problem, particularly for those who undertalce to assemble a cotlectian of readings on the anthropology of: religion: m e r e shall we begin? What shall we include? What dare W leave out! Inevitably; the choices made may be objected tcr by some readers as arbitrary and disputable and possibly even indefensible, We shall therehre not offer a defense for our clzoices, only an explanation. To begin with, we have focused most particularly on contemporary issues and ethnographic perspectives and have ctxcluded many issues that were important subjects decades or more ago. For example, we wiU provide no readings on what was the most burning issue as the anthropological study of religion began: How did religion cvrne into exktelace? AAer all, we observe na sign of religion among animals and we have known since t>arwin-we nonreligious scientists-that we are descended from a nonhuman or yrehuman animal. T11e very question, therefore, contains certain assumptions; it implies a rejection of the religious person's response-that one or more deities voucl~safedreligion to us by means of: divine revelation-and it even implies an assumption that human sc~cicttyevolved in some way analogous to biologicat evoluticzn. For anthropologists during the last half of the nineteenth century and tlze first qunter of the twentieth, apparently; both of these assumptions went largely unquesticzned. Edward B. Tylor, considered by many to be the hrher of modern antlzropology, concluded that religion emerged out of: the initial yonderings of humans (anyay, male humans) at the dawn of human i~ztelligenceas they sought answers to the appearance of the dead in dreams and the disappearance, from time to time, of game animals or water (Tylor 1899 [ l8711). If Tylor saw religion emerging from the early search for answers to seemingly inexplicable occurrences, Tames G. Frazer C 1922), considered by many to be the

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father of the anthropological study of religion, concluded that religion was simply one step in the progression of efforts to control the environment and the unfolding of events. In other words, at first humans betiexd they could make the rain fall or the game animais return by forcing nature (or the invisible spirits that adzninistered nature) to their will: This, said Frazet; was the beginning of magic, Then, as Frazer saw it, some brighter (or at least later) humans began to perceive how their efforts actually brought little in the way of results, although (as Frazer demonstrates), belief in and practice of magic contit~uesto tl-tis day throughout the world. Neverthetess, it would seem, the questioning of the efficacy of magic led some ancient obsertrers to conclude that the beings who controlled tlze universe were clearly more powerful tlzan humans-who tlzerefore could only propitiate such divinities with prayers and offerings, not force or cantrot them-and this (for Frazer) ws the beginning of religinrz, Finally, Frazer implies, came scielace, reflecting the ~~nclerstanding that the universe is governecl by insensate laws ancl forces, not amenable to either coercion or propitiation but capable of being manipulated by humans who understand how they work, Thus, fbr example, if you wish to fiy above the clouds, you will waste your time performing an incantation to bind same invisible spirit to carry you up (magic) or pleading with same divinity to perform a miracle (religiarz); instead, you male an effc3rt: learn the laws of aerodynamics (science) and oM p u can go into the wild blue p n d e ~ Explanations such as those of Tylor and Frazer seemed reasonable to their contemporaries, for the most part people who had never met a ""prlmithe." A major problem, however, was that the proponents of:such theories had themselves never met any, either: "It iis a remarkable fact that none of the anthropologists whose theories abctut primitive religion have been most influential had ever been near a primitive people. It is as tl-tough a cl-temist lzad never thought it necessary ta enter a laborattrry" "vans-IJritchard 1965: B ) , Evans-Pritchard goes on to inveigh against the literature used by such spay-at-home anthropotogists: "Much of it was false and afmast all of it was unreliable and, by modern shndards of: professional research, casual, superficial, out of pervective, out of ci3ntextP In a sense, Evans-Pritchard" diatribe serves as one justification for this book: Included in this volume are chapters, we assert proudly, that are reliable, professional, perceptive, based on sound methods of ethnographic and archival informa"eon-gathering, and very pertinent to issues that concern the wrXd today. Most contemporary an thropologtsts have in fact turned away from questions such as "Does it really work!" m d "Why do people betieve in it?" They prefer, rather, to strrdy what people believe and how their belief systems respond to danger (illness, death, attacks by enemies, etc.) ancl new circumstances; they study rituals, ceremonies, and other practices and the interrelationships of belief systerns and social, econctmic, and pothical sptems-among many other things. Of course, some people will still insist on asking: "Horw did religion begin?" Most contemporary anthropologists w u l d agree that we simply dcrn3t t o w that the evolution or emergence or devefopment of human sociev over the mtltians of: years since Lucy and her Australopithecine relatives strode the earth in

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Aftrica and (presumably) looked around in wonder is an enormously complicated issue, and we are still a long way from sohing it, if indeed we ever do. There w r e other questions that intrigued early anthropcllogists, and many are with US still today. Are belief ystems a&cted by-or even determined by--environmental, technological, or ecological conditions? Are religious experiences such as ""atered states of consciousness'2ivine visitations, simple chicanery, mental aberrations-or extensions of "normal" "man mental capacities? Are tlzere uxrderjying, recurrent matt& or principles in seemingly different belief systems? Wl~atis the difference b e ~ e e nwhat we labet ""magic" and what we distinguish as ""reiigion" and even ""sience" (as in ""medical science")? For example, one question tl-tat has plag~zedantl-tropologistsfrom the very beginning, and still precipitates heated debate, is: " m a t do we mean by 're1igic)n'how shall we distinpish it from all that is "not religion?l" Does "religion" nemssarily imply a belief in spirits or divini"res, what some would call ""spernatural powers""? Xf not-if one defines it siinpfy as the cultt~rallyestablished set of beliefs and ptactices having to do with causality. (of such things as death and other events) and aypropriak response (in terms of treatment, prevenfcon, and acceptable behavior)how does one distinguish ckeligion'%om ""sience'%nd even ""pilosoplzy""? Although many of the foregoing questions will not be directly addressed in the chapters in this volume, they resonate throughout the readings because of the very nature of "the study of religion." Xnevitably; inquiries into the fundamental and motivating values and beliefs of peoylte in sharplty different societies cctntinually push the inquirer-particularly the anthropoIc.tgist-to the boundaries of what he or she ""knows"-has always taken for granted-and tl-tat may be an irnportant reasc>nwhy many find the subject endlessly fascinating. Such ""boundariesn-even the very categories into which we anthrctyologists arrange our data-are not finite or concrete, and tlzey should not be; thus, the part titles may be seen in sclme cases as either imprecise or ambigtzous. But choices must be made, and we were guided, in setting up the parts, by what we believe to be major contemporary issues in the antlzroyalogy of religion, even imyclrtant themes in global culture and ycllitics generally. It could be argued, for example, that as a new century dawns traditional distindions between "wen and ""tzey" are becoming increasingly meaningless; as national borders and regional alliances dissc>lveand reconfigure; as transnational and muftinatianaf identiCes become increasingly ctommon; and as the Internet and websites provide instant access to remote events and ideas, The very nature of identity, both individual and group identity, is more in flux than ever before; "modernist" ertaixides of the first half of this century are being replaced with ""pstmodern'%mbigt~ityand multiplicity. Throughout the contemporary world we observe the emergence of new religions in alX societies, Some of these began in clear response to the breakdown of previous belief systems in the Face of brutal assault-originally by missionaries, traders, soldiers, and officials and, more recent@, in response to contemyclrary nafanatism, ethnicity, and some of the programs of governments of newly independent states,.t>owe see a relevance, even a similarity, to the emergence of new

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belief systems in our own society? And what of the congruences to be obsertred in tlze reernergences in different societies, it~cludingour own, of- older, seemingfy forgotten or discredited betief systems along with enthusiastic rejections of what educated or elite people had cttme to accept? These are some of the issues that are explored in two parts of this book; Part l (""Coloniafism and Postcolonial tegaciesn")nd Part 4 ("I<eligion and the State"). The ""mind-body" "ckotomy so important to Enlightenment philosophy is gradrtal2y giving way to a more Rtlid notion of tlze nature of consciousness, one that blends the mental and the physical. lPJhen we observe people exhibiting ""atered states of consciousness" "(ASC), and once W have moved awllly from useless debates about whether tlzese people are ""ikers" or ""fars" or ""dcrngedP we find oursetves questioning what we mean by ""consciousness" vnerally, altered or otherwise. Is something going on here that we know little aburzt and have much to learn from? Many scholars seem to think so, as may be seen in the chapters in Part 3 ("'The Healing Touch and Altered S~ates"). Every society trn earth divides up work on the basis of constructed gender categories, and these categories are inhrmed and enforced by religious dictum and pradice. But as the chapters in Part 2 (""GencZer ancZ Sexuality"")emind us, basic questions of ""male" and ""female," xsexual behavior in general, and the role of reli@ionin such matters are not only fluid but also subject to shifts motivated by politics, ecanomics, ancl historical events. The chapters in Part 5 ("Changes and Continuitiesn")Il address the ccrntradictory nature of this topic: What undergoes change over time and space in the study of religious movements? VXhat remains tlze same? AncZ how does human religious expression manage-sometimes-tcr encapsulate these two seemingly irreconcilable opposing tl-rrusts,"change" and ""cntinuity""? We have noted that tlze clzayters in this book by no means deal with all tlze issues in the anthropological study of religion. Let us say they were selected primarily to stimulate discussion by providing scholarly examples of multiple methodologies ancl theoretical perspectives, In our introductory essays, you will observe that we raise many questicrns and answer few Seek out your own answers, then, to the questions that intrigue or trouble you: Our intent is to aid you by opening doors and turnitlg on tlze liglzts. References Evans-Pritchard, E. E. 11965 IITi"zeorl'es of Prtnzirive Religion. Oxford: Oxford Unixrsity Press. Frazcr, Jarnes G. 1922 The Glderz Bough: R Study iri M ~ g i cand Religirtrz, abridged @d.,1 vtd, New b r k : Macmillan, Norheck, Edward 1961 Religion in Prirfzi$i~)e Society. New York: Harper and Row. TyIor, Edward R. 1889 [ 1871/ Primitive G'uZttlre. 34 Axnerican ed., 2 vols. N m York: Henry Hott.

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PART O N E

I t must be admitted, however regretfully and embarrassedly, that anthropology owes mucl1 to colonialism-to the efforts of Europeans during the last four hundred years to ccrntrof the rest of the ytanet; to make off with the resources of others, to steal their lands, to force them to buy the goods manufiaactured in Europe, even to enslave them, Indeed, the earliest accounts of the peoples of the world encountered by Europeans in their mercenary travefs hefped bring into very existence the discipline tlzat was to call itself ""the study of-man." The increasing awareness of the variety of lifestyles+ven before true data about those lifestyfes were furthccrming-affected European versions of potiticaf philosophy (see Kousseau on the "noble savage'" and literature (see Sl-takesyeare's TFte Teszpest). And, of course, once a European prrwr had actuafly ""pacified the natives," mthropologists could venture forth and ply their wcjrk-usually with the btessings of some farsighted colonial officials who realizecl that data on tecl~nology,subsistence ancl trade, as well as on social and yc~liticalstructure and even on beliefs ccruld only be of benefit to the new rulers; indeed, many of the officials themselves joined the ranks of anthropologists ancl made significant ethnographic ancl ethnological contributions to the new disciytine. At the same time, however, there were things about anthrctyologists and anthropological tlleary t l ~ a tmade some of- the otlzer European scholars uneasy. There were intimations in even the earliest anthropological accounts of a kind of a suggestion that perhaps att cultures and thus nascent ""cultural relativismn"-----oI all religious systems, European and non-European, constituted equivalently complex and sound adaptatic~nsto diverse environments. This suggestion-however minimal, however muted-challenged the hierarchical model embedded within the prevailing theoretical concept of unilinear evolution so popular in tatenineteenth-century Europe and the United States that compared one culture to anctther along a scafe of presumed technological and cultural ctrmy1exit)t;

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Adding to this discomfort level generated by anthroyofogy and anthropologists was the occasional tendency on the part of some anthropcrlogists to ""g oative"--trt act, in other wctrds, as if they believed that the local people were no worse, if no better, than tlzeir European overlords. Long itnmersion "in the bush""-tcro much attention tcr the local language and customs-could ruin the anthropologists for participation in civilized (that is, Eurcryean) society. The colonial officials ancl adzninistrators were not the only ambivalent Europeans-the onty ones tcr view anthropologists as both useful Ebr their ends yet potentially threatening. The Europeans who labctred in the colonial miiku fetf into many categories, Besides tlze administrators there were, of course, soldiers to maintain ccrntrol as well as the merchants and clerks whose job it was to extract the wealth of the colony, and many of them dextoyed a similar l0.l.e-hate relationship with anthropofogists and anthrcrpology, But then there were-always and everywhere-the missionaries. Oddly, they were in many vav more similar to the anthropcrlogists than were the administrators, the bureaucrats, and the other Europeans; indeed, a considerable nurnber were anthropologists or ccrnsidered themselves to be. And, in fact, the ccrntributions of missic3naries to the dexloyment of the disciytine were of enduring importance, particularly in the areas of linguistics and the anthropofogicai study of:religion. Missionaries, like anthroyofogists (and even those before them) lived amrrng the native pctyulation, by necessity learning their languages and sharing their food. They studied local marriage practices and family forms and often came to understand much of the religious concepts of the people they lived amrrng, if for no other reasc>nthan to be able to draw parallefs and thus integrate local beliefs into the conversion dismurse. And possibly mast significant, missionaries and early anthropofogists were uninterested in the extraction of wealth from the ccrlonial world but rather, as both grotzps phrased it, in ""safvage" activities; anthropologists to ""salvage" the indigenous culture before it was swamped and destroyed by European cult~~re, missionaries to ""save the souls of: the lzeathens." And yet there was frequently conflict betwen the two, perhaps more than between anthroyofogists ancl any atlzer category of: European-in-the-coloniesf The reasons are numerous and ccrmytex, and many are explored and illustrated in the chapters in this section, Particularly in the area of the study of religion-the area, Xet LIS note, of particular concern to anthropologists and missionaries-tlze two were more different, more essentially hostile and antagonistic, than either was among the other Europeans. As long as the "natives" &d not oppose or otherwise interfere with the European efforts to extract wealth from the colony, merchants and adrninistratcrrs were for the most part uninterested in changing the natives-perhaps because in their traditional state they posed no threat to the Europeans (w11erer-l~"educated'kncl ""Europeanized" inindigenes well might). Missionaries, hcrwever, were specifically interested in brirtgirtg abotlt change: They

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brouglzt European clotlzing, dietary practices, eciucation, and medicine. But most of all, they were there to bring European refigion-Cl~ristianity in one or another of its European hrms-and thus, at least ixz prindyle, to obliterate cornyletely the indigenous belief system or systems, The anthropologists, in contrast, particularly during the early years of the discipline, hcused on what they understood to be the ""traditional" hdigenczus retigious beliefs and practices, and not infreqsxently in their accounts tlzey left out all mention of the effects of the inroads of Christianity and the changes introdu~ed by the missicznaries. Rrhaps as a result of the missinnary-antlzroyologist antagonism, as Glaude Stipe suggests in Chapter I, there is not enough anthropological attention to the role of missictnaries in the total colonial enterprise, particularly in the yerturbations and transfcjrmaticzns that took place in the non-European world as it responded to the European incursion, Sometimes the missionaries were seemingly hugety successful in their efforts: The "natives" "jured their traditional religious leaders and their teachings and became "Roman Catholics" or i'Presk3yterians" who were indistinguishable f.'rorn their European counterparts-or were they? Anthropologists have long sought to reveal the elements of belief and ritual that derived from the supposedly obliterated previous ideological system, perceiving them as ""rtentians" or "reit~terpretations."But ta what eaent were ssuch ""rtentions" "tutually welcomed, or even fostered, by the missionaries? And then, of course, there were the cases of rejection of the European creedsin the form of what tlze anthropological literature calls "nativisttc" "turns or new emergences such as ""crgo cults." But how much of the rejection or the new emergence derived in fact from local interpretations (or reinterpretations) of the teacl-titlgsof tlze missionaries? Anthroyczlogists have pursued such questions, frequently without consulting missionaries or the body of missionary literature, Surety it is obvious that the totality that was ""cofoniaXism" in all its forms anci variations can only be studied by assigning proper weight to missionaries: For better or for if! they changed the wcjrfds in which they labored. Missionaries reacted to marriage practices and Fdmily patterns-tl-tey pressured often reluctant administrators to ban ritual infanticide and widow immr>lation in India and the ""payment" of brideweafth in East Africa; they hastened the end of matrilineal descent and ancestor veneration almost everywhere sucl-t plzenomena existed, And they have left their legacies everyhere, Frequently; foreign missionaries and religious leaders have departed from the now independent former colonies, and the religious leaders are lzomebred and lzomegmwn (seemingly, a n y a y ) . The twists and turns are again multipie, complex, and unpredictable and of increasing interest to anthropologists, Some of the belief systems the missionaries contested-Islam, Hixzdrtism, Buddhism-not only survived but now send their missionaries to Europe and the Americas! Proselytizing religions have nczt by any

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means sunk into apathy with the end of traditional Erxrctyean colonialism; they have been reinvigorated by neocolonialism and multinationalism and the effects of accelerated global communication and transycrrtation, The study of refigictn-not only or simply of the internal structure of a belief system-but also of the interplay and interactions between and among localized and worldwide belief systems raises theoretical and substantive questions seemingly without end. A starting point from which to consider the calonial and postcalonial legacies of missionaries might be the observation that the encounters between indigenous cultures and foreign missionaries did not cttnstitute a unified and repetitious plzenomenon; tl-tere were as many different experiences as there were missionaries and receiving focal ccrntexts, In some cases, the idiosyncratic persc>nality or interpetation of religious dogma by a single missionary could have enormous impact on subsequent regional or even national religious movements. Even Christianity itself was no t~nifiedjuggernat~tbat rather a series of personal anci cultural encounters. The outcomes of these encounters are no more tznitary than the life trajectories of the missionaries themselves. And these missionary encounters are not merely histories of events completed in the past, As fudith Shapiiro and Sergei Kan document (see Chapters 2 and 3, respectively), ccrntemporary religious belief sptems among converted native peoples represent a multipte series of ongoing and contit~uaflyrenegotiated responses, If success or failure of missionary activity is to be measured by ntzmbers of converts and/or maintenance over generations, then this too reflects a diversity of outcomes. Compare, for example, Marton Fried's analysis in Chapter 4 of the "failure" of Christian missionaries in China with the relative successes of missionary undertakings among the TXtnglt (Chapter 3) or in Brazil and Paraguay (Chapter 2). All the authors in h r t 1. examine the interaction of missionaries and local culture context but emplcy different antl-rropolfogical methodologies and persyectives. Kan and Shapiro approach conversion and subsequent reinterpretation of Christian theology frcm the perspective of the local meanings and uses of these religious forms. Both are particularly interested in the intersection of the religious forms with inciigenous beliefs and structures. They both combine ethnographic field data and participant-c>bserv"ationwith historical archival material and analysis of religious text and discourse, Stipe and Fried apply a mmo macro-level perspective, askng questions of theoretical imporfance ancl providing suggested responses, which can then be tested by other anthroycrlogists in other settings, The Part 1 chapters by ncr means exhaust all the issues in the anthropotogical study of religion under anci after ""colonialism'" indeed, such issues may be observed ttr be present in most of the chapters in this book, most particularly in those included in Part 5, "Changes and Cont-inuities.'Tctloniaf and postcolonial religious legacies are diffuse, complex, subtle-anci tl-tey are distrib~ltedtlzrouglnout the ccrntempcrrary world.

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An thropo VersusMissionaries The Influence of Presuppositions1 Claudt. E. Stipe

Although missionaries and anthropologists have often coeksted in geographic areas within which both plied their trades, their refatlonships have often been strained and distant. This article suggests that anthmyologists, who otherwise strive for objectivity in their descriptions and analysis, approached missionaries with stereotypes and presuppositions, This is due in part, Claude Stipe suggats, to their yersanaf discamfort with religious beliefs of afX kinds and their tendency to study ritual and behaviur frcrm rationalist or agncrstic perspectives, -Editt~rsTommerzt

ANTT

H R O P O L O G I S ~ T SI N G E N E R A L HAVE A N E G A T I V E KI.-I.I.FUDE tc)ward missionaries, especially when they wnceive of missionaries as agents of culture change. Even though there seems to be little systematic indoctrination, early in their training antl~royologystuclents learn that missionaries are to be regarded as ""enemies,)" Powdermaker ( f 966) refers to discussions which she and fellow students at the London ScIlc?ol ~ r fEconomics had in 1925 about the necessity of lceeping natives pure and undeiiled by missionaries and civil servants. Missionaries were seen as enemies who wanted tcr change cultures. She comments (p.$3) that "now, with the sociolo&cal interest in social change and the lcnow1.edgeof the significant roles played by missionaries anci civil servants; our hostile attitude seems indeed biased.)" Althcrtzgh the majority of anthropologists have probably come into contact with missionaries while doing fietd research, Salamone C 1977:408) has ncrted that the mention of missionaries in textbooks and ethnograyhies is ""both brief anci some-

Current A ~ z ~ / z ~ . o2~1j2) ? u (Ai~riI ~ Q ~ Y1980): 165-168.

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what hidden in the textn"2nd that ""rarely is a straightltorward hostile antimissicrnary statement found" "afarnone 1979:54). According to Burridge (1978:9), anthropologists and other academics who have contributed to the negative stereotype "wIuXCI never dream of committing to paper as a considered opinion the things they actually said.'"? own survey of the literature has corroborated these spatements. The term "missit>nary"Yoesnot appear in the index of many standard texts in mltural anthroyofog, and when missionaries are mendoned it is often in terms of tl~eirdisapproving of certain cultural ptaaices such as wife lending or gambfing (cf. Richards 19";7'?":218, 335) or tending to destrc>ya society" culture and selfrespect (cf. E~nberand Ember 197"7:306). Examples of negative statements in ethnographies incfrrdc the suggestions that the missionaries in question do poor translation work (Hc>gbin 1964), use fcrrce and cruetty ( Jocano 1969),unsusyectingty carry diseases (Graburn 1969), interfere with nat* custcjms (Forttzne 19631, and disapprove of dancing (Middieton 19"7(>),Turnbull ( X "11) is very negative toward some Protestant missionaries who reft~sedto pray for a non-Clzristian pylgmy who had been gored but has high praise for a Cathcjfic priest, One textbook with an extended discussion of missionaries is Keesing" (1976) Cul'rznral'A~zthropology:A Conteurzporary Perspective, which includes positive as well as negative aspects of missionary work. Keesing notes that anthroy c~logists and missionaries fat:least in stereoqpe) have been at odds with one another for decades:l "The caricatured missionary is a straitfaced, repressed, and narrowminded Bibfe thtzmyer trying to get native women ttr ccrver their bosoms decently; the anthropologist: is a bearded degenerate giwn to taking his clothes off and sampling wild rites" (p.459). He decries tlze fact that Christianity was taken to Latin America and other areas as an instrument of ccrnquest and subjugation and notes that: in many regions the "wounds to peopleshelf-conception and to tlze integrity of their cultures remain deep and unhealed" (p. 460). On the other hand, he reccrgnizes the old and enduring tradition of missionary scholarship and statesmanship, including, e.g., Sahaghn, Lafitatr, Ccrdt-ington, and Schebesta as well as many present missionary ethnographers and linguists. Keesit~gconcludes his treatment by stating (g. 462): Many Cl-tristiarzxnissiallaries have devoted their Iitdes in wdys that have enriched the comm~xnitieswllere they worked. Many In Immersir~gthemselves in other farll~ulages and cultures, have produced important records of ways now vanishing. But Inure Important, in valuixzg these oici ways and seeing Christianization as a chailenge to create syntheses of the otd and new, the best ~rnissionarieshave helped to enrich human Iives and provide effective bridges to participation in a wrtci community.

One ethnography with an extended negatiw evaluation of missionaries is Tcjnkinson" ( 1374) accorznt of the figalong Mob in Australia. The situation is quite atypical, since the Apostolic Church missionaries are giwn no training fbr tlzeir work, They know nothing about linguistics, anthropology>desert survival, or the aboriginal culture (Zjnkinson 1974: 119). Most devote two or more years to missionary work to fulfill what they consider to be a religious duty (g. 120).

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Clhagnon (X974:X81-82) seems to show an antimissictnary bias when cornmenting on a group of:Yanomam8 who had accepted the missionaries? teaching that tobacccr, drugs, and yc->lygyny were sin: They were going to stay there in that swarnp and be fed and clothed by the people from God3 village until their gardens began prcldtlcing; they were going to learn tc:, sing and be happy. . . . /?"heywere] swatting Incessantly at the mosquitos with which they had chosen to live, free from sin, They were a mere shadow of the people who had greeted me boisterously in their magnificent, airy and mosquito-free shahono deep in the jungle a few years earlier, a st3vereign people, strong and corzfident. It is instructive to compare this comment with lzis earlier report (1967:24) from a jungle village that ""eerybody in the village is swatting vigorously at the vctracious biting gnats, and here and there groups of people delcruse each trther's heads and eat the vermin.'We also seems to evaluate the people" sations differently in these two publications. In the earlier (1967:26.-30) lze describes tl~eir graded system of violence, which includes duets, ctub fights, spear fights, raids, and tricks (in which they have killed visitors). Despite their extreme aggressiveness, they show at least two qualities he admires: ""they are kind anc2 indulgent with children and can quictdy forget personal angers" (p. 31). It seems valid to infer that Cbagnon's negative response to the condition of the Vanomamii invcllrsed with missionaries is based on the fidrct of that involvement as well as on their actual condition, A comment by Keesing (1976:459) seems appropriate here: Anthropologists who have battled missionaries through the years have oftell boistered their position with a cultural relativis~ftand romanticism aborrt the ""pximitive" that seems increasingly anachronistic. The allthroyologist who finds himself in defense of infar~ticide,head-l~unting,or the segregation and subordination of wcjmen, and in opposition to missicrnization, can welt be rxncomfortabte abcasrt the premises from which he argues. If no systematic indoctrination takes pltace, hrtw can the basically negative attitude of anthropc->logiststoward missir>nariesbe explained? It is now generally accepted that the concept of an "objective observer" who does not let personal values influence observations and conciusions is a mytt~.We realize tlzat experiences shape attitudes and values, which in turn affect our evaluations, Presuppositions inRuence the way in which we look at situatictns. I suggest that two common presuppositions may contribute to the negative attitude of anthropologists towarc2 missionaries: that primitive cultures are characterized by an organic unity and that religious beliefs are essentially meaningless,

The Organic-UnityConcept Many anthropc->logistshave a penchant for seeing the culture they are studying (especially if it is sufficient@ primithe) as a "work of art whose beauty [lies] in the way in which the parts [are] counterbaianced and interrelated" "icbardson

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1975:523), Accrclrding to the teleological assumption of functicrnalism, which is apparent in much of the etlznographic literature, tlze ideal society is in perfect equilibrium, and change, especially that produced by outside contacts, is harmful (Hughes 1978:"78), Bennett (1946) has slzown how the organic approach takes into account only certain facets of a culture. He contrasts Laura Thompson" '""organic" approach with Esther Goldfrank" "rqression" approach to Pueblo culture, Thompson sees the culture and society as ""integrated to an unusual degree, all sectors being bound together by a consistent, harmonious set of values, which pervade and hrrmogenize the categories of world view, ritual, art, social organization, econctmic activity, and social control" wennett f946:362-63). According to Thompson, such a culture de.lpetoys an ideal personality type which fosters the virtues of gentleness, nonaggression, cooperation, mrrdesty, and tranquility. She stresses the organic wholeness of gretiterate Me, contrasting it with the heterogeneity and diffuseness of modern civilization. O n the otller Izand, Goldfrank clzaracterizes P ~ ~ e bculture lo as marked by ""considerable covert tension, suspicion, anxiety, hostility, fear, and ambition" mennett 1946:363). Children are coerced subtly and sometimes brutally into behaving according to Pueblo norms. Autlzority is in the hands of'the group and the chiefs, and the individual is suppressed and repressed. In contrasting the two positions, Bennett ncttes (p,366) that "while the 'organic" approach tends to show a preference for Izomogeneaus preliterate culture, the 'repressed-theory has a fairly clear bias in the direction of' equalitarian demcrcracy and non-neurotic Tree%ehavior." Since anthropologists have preacheci the integrity of:each culture, change (unless it has been internally mrrtivated) "I~asbeen seen as upsetting a delicate machine, a ft~ncticrningorganism, or an intricate symbolic or communication system-whichever metaphor we have used for organizing our ideas about society or culture" "ofson 1976:267). Much has been written abcrut the marginal person who is no longer a"eome in his or her own culture and is attempting to find a place of security in the larger social universe. We contrast tlze alienation we irnpute to such people with the contentment and emotional security W attribute to individuals in a ciosed community. X t is interesting that anthmyologtsts for tlze most part Izave been refc~mmersprimarily with respect to other peoplte in their own society We are often uncomfcjrtable with poficies which endanger the customary ways of life of local communities, and when such communities are exposed to new, confiicting demands some of us even call those policies genocide or ethnocide. We seem to be saying that ~ very good ""options are bad for other people upon whom we do e t h n o ~ a p h ybut for ourselves, who use the teaclling of social antllropofogy to free ourselves, and our peers, from constraining tradition" "Ison 1976:267), As Lewis (19731584-85) has argued, The wry cjl~alitiesof primitive life which the anthropologist romanticizes and wants to see presened are attributes whic11 he finds unacceytahlle in his own cuitrxxe. The

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personal freedom and self-determination he Insists upon for 11irnsel.t:he withhojds from the ""prirnitive'h~~ the basis of cultural cotlditio~~ixlg and the need for the accommodation of the individual withirz the community. He writes enth~xsiasticailyof the highly integrated life of the ""primitive:' of the Iack of stress experienced when there is little freedom of cl1oice and few alternatives from which to choose; yet he defends for himself the right tt:, make his own decisions and his own choices.

A local point of view is often myopic, and anthropologists are no exception. We often dct not realize that the seeming equilibrit~rnof a tribe may have been largely created by the colonial situation. When one is concerned with a single society, it is often difficult to see how the poyutatians of a given region are bouncl together in netwttrks of trade, exchange, and the flow of ideas (Keesing 1976:432), Although the present is a precipitate of history, attempts are often made to explain tlze present in terms of itself. The organic view of cultures is due in part to the short time an anthropologist ordinarily spends in a given culture, Even though it may extend over several years, a single field trip encourages a description which emphaslzes the lzomogeneity of a culture, the situation at a speciffc time being seen as the ideaf condition (Colson 1976:269). In too many cases the anthrctpofogist does not ol->servea society iong enough to see lzow the people grow dissatisfied with tl-tetr condition anci attempt to change it. lPJhat helshe may see a an ideal situation may be viewed by the people a an unsatisfactory compromise, As Colson f f 976:264) ncttes: It is people who are the actors, atte~nptingto adapt and use their institrrtions to attain their ends, always fiddling with the culturai inheritatlce and experimenting with its possibilities They need to take tho~xghtof what they do. They lose sigl~tof one end in pursuing another. Fretluellrly they lose tl~exnselvesin a dreadlizl muddle, There is no rxecessay feedback system that will autornaticalbycorrect the state of agairs and return them to base one to start again having learned from their mistakes, And no shining rnodd of an ideal socieg . . . is p i n g to save them from their mistakes, though It may comfort tllern in their affliction, This is as true of those w11o live in African villages or the islands of the Pacific as it is of us in our cities and bureaucracies which. we create and then dedine to control, Ethnographers have ~~stially presented each social group they study as a success story.We have no reason to believe this is true. Atthough most peopfwafue their customary ways, they certainly are not reluctant to change when they anticipate that the changes will ixnprove their situation. There is a sense, therefore, in which any given culture is always being tested, and this is n o more true of our own than it is of: others which are less complex. O'Brien and PLoeg (1964:2(31) discuss the Fact tlzat when a group of Dani met to plan for the burning of weapons, the throwing away of jao, and the abolition of in-law avoidances, n o one questioned the desirability of these acts, "To account for this ttnanirnity, one slzottld realize that the motive ttnderlying tlze movement-dissatisfactic~n with the original culture-appltied with equal force to all Dani, Also, all concurred in thinking that the Europeans enjoyed a vastly su-

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perior way of life." The Uani appreciated the improvements in their standard of living which were clue mainly to tlie cessation of warfare, availability of medical treatment, and improxment rrf the economic system. As Salamone (1976:62) has noted, ""Xdividuals will bemme conwrts to those religious syskerns which enable tlzem to better adapt to their ecological niches.'' Hippler (1974:336) has argued that the introduction of Euro-American civilization to AIaskan native groups was more a biessing than a curse: It occurs to us that the introduction of modern medicine, freedaix from the dangers and uncertainties of the hunt, reduction in interpersonal viojence and the like are positively accepted changes. The only Indians ancl Eskimos we k~zowwlzo wholly extoll the past are those too yc:,ung tt:, have aperienced that ~~ntottched abt:,riginal cufture. Mothers do prefer to have most of their children live; only fouls wish to have unrestrained Interpersonal violence, Xt Is . . . very possible that much complaint about the "'Loss of one's culture" now expressed by young Eskimos and Illdialls is hyperbolic cant derived in part from a misreading or, unfortunately>a correct readi~rg of sc:,me antbrc>pc>logical writings and the cornrnc~ztsof local political idealowes, Hippler concludes that the ccrncept of the death of a culture, which is an analogy applied to an abstraction, may be Iess important in the scheme of individual llrrman lives tlzan many anthropologists make it seem. Discussions of culture change often given the impression that indigenous peoples were passive spectators in the acculturation prctcess and that missioniration was a force which unilaterally impinged on passively recipient peoples, In actuality, there are usually ""continuing interactions of Wstern and indigenous religious beliefs, structures, and institutional arrangements" "iffany 1978~305;see also Lilt kefu 1978:462), From these examples, it is crbvicrus that not all anthropologists take an idealistic view of the organic nature of a culture and therefore see culture change as necessarily bad for the indigenous peoples, However, one shoufd not be surprisecl when those who$ dtr hold this ycrsition manifest a negative attitude tr~wardmissionaries who attempt to change cuftures.

The Meaninglessness of Religous Be&efs Afthough a missionary (Edwin Smith) was once president of- tlze Royal Anthropcrlogical Institute, the majority of anthropologists are either atheistic or agnostic. Acc~rdingto Evans-Pritchard (1965,1972), the earty anthropoiogical writers on religion (e.g., Tytor, Frazel; Malinowski, and Durkbeirn) lzacl all had a retativefy dreary religious upbringing which led to an animosity toward revealed religion. They were looking for a weapon which cttutd be used with Qeadfy effect against Christianity, for if they could explain away primitive religion as an intellectual aberratitsn or by its social functicrn they could discredit and explain away the higher religictns as well f f965: 15). Evans-Pritchard concludes ( 1972:205) that

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social anthropoiou has been the product of minds which, with very few exceptiom, regarded ail religion as outmoded superstition, suited no doubt to a pre-sciexitific age and l~istoricallyjustified, Like classes In the eyes of Marxists, b r a given period, but now useless, and even withotzt ethical value, and worse tlzan useless because it stood in the way of a rational regeneration of mankind and social progress. The basic approach of social anthropologists to religion can be characterized by Radcliffe-Brow1-t"s(1.952:155) dictum that in studying religion "it is on the rites rather than the beliefs that we should first ccrncentrate our attention." GGtuchan ( 1462:14-1 5) elabctrated on this position by asserting that modern minds are bored with tl-te intellectualist approach of the 19th-century anthropologists and that contemporary anthrcryologists demonstrate that rituals ""are in Fact to be understcrod in terms of tl-xe soclaI relations which are inrrofved in the rituals:Xeach (1 954: 15) mairztained that the strtlcture whicl-t is symbolk~edin ritual is ""rze system of socially apy rcrxd "roper\efations between individuals and grczui3s." Lawrence (1 970) and Worton C X97 X) trace this view to 18th-century raticznalistic philosoplzy. God had ceased to be personal for many peaptc by the end of the 17th century, and by the end of the 18th century many had decided that they could dct without God cttmyZetely When retigion no longer prctvides a theory fbr how the world really works, man's encounter with God can easily be relegated to the ""suyreme archetypal social relationship" "c>rton 1.9'71 :96). In at Xeast sarne cases, anthropologists seem to have had a type oE""cnversion experience" away horn Cl-xristtanity,At the 1974 meeting of tlze American Anthrczpologicat Association in Mexia) City I gave a paper on the role of refigion in culture change, in which I demonstrated that in many instances one cannot explain the occurrence or the direction of cufture cl-tange without understanding the religious heliefi of the people.4 In the sarne session was a paper in which the author argued that all differences between Protestants and Catholics in a Guatemalan village could be explaineci by socineconnmic anci political P~ctors, He was disturbed by my approach and explained that he had been a seminary student and that his ""cronversion" to anthroyoloa involved the rqection of the position tlzat religious beliefs were meaningfuful.We therefore resented being subjected (especially by another anthroycrlogist) to the very position from which he had been converted. The only publislzed statement I have seen is Riclzardson's (1975:519), in whiclz he attributes to anthropology his liberation from Christian beliefs: My fxedorn from the things that nearly destrc>yedme (and that continue to haunt rne) wuid come from studying tl~em,and wl-estiing with them in order to expose

their secret. At that point, just short of sto~npingon them and destrc>yir~g them, for some reason my private battle stops, Tcxkq-,T have no love for the Southern Baptists, but I can aIinost say ""Bifly Graharn'hith~~~t sneerir~g, This ccrmment seems incompatible with his statement (p. 523) that cultural relativism is a ""moral jugtiffcation for being an anthropologist."" It seems incongruous that a cultural, relativist would sneer at arzyoneheligion. From an anthropologi-

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cal pusspect-ive,Lowiek statement that it is the responsibility of the fieidworker to ~inderstandthe "true inwardness'kof the beliefs and practices is more ayyroyriate. Lowie asserts ( 1963:533),

. . . I have h o w n a~lthroyologistswho accorded a benevolent u~lderstandingto the Hopi but denied it to Catholics, Mormons, Buddhists, or Mohammeda~~s, This dichotomy of viewpoint strikes me as ridiculous and completely unscientific, I wilt strxdy as many religiom as I can, hue X will judge none of them. X doubt if any other attitude is scientificaiEy defe~~sibie, Burridge C 1978: X 0) mentions an anthropotogist who was in the habit of smolting a n the premises af a missionary organization that lzad strict regritations against the use of tobacco or alccrhol within its compound. fn fact, he even urged some of the peoylte living there to accept free gifts of cigarettes. One w n d e r s if he woufd just as inconsiderately have offered porlc chops to the caretaker of a mosque or eaten lzot dogs in a Hindrt temple. f suspect that, in at least some instances, the antipathy of anthropologists toward missionaries lies in the fact that missionaries take seriously and teach other people religio~isbeliefs whicl~the antl~ropologistslzave personally rejected. It wotzld be difficult for most people to maintain a positive (or even neutral) attitude toward a position they had personally rejected as being either invafid or meaningless. As Blrrridge ( L 978:K) suggests, Somehow whetller the person was a physician, an agricultural expert, a techrziciazz, a schoolteacher-whatever-the fact that he or she was atss a missionary seemed to rxeutralize the expertise being proffered. One was left with the impression that it was the rarely articulated ""Christian""1 the general label ""missicraaiy"that was the prime target of objection.

Although early anthrcrpologists relied heavily on missionary publications and there have been many missionary ethnographers,"tf e general attitude af antlzropofogists toward missionaries has been negative. XI would be simytistic to suggest that this attitude is entirefy due to the acceptance of one (or both) of the presuppositions I have discussed. However, the positions that cultures are organic whales wl~ichshould not be disturbed and that religio~isbeliefs are essential7 meaningless wotzld certaint-y ccrntribute to such an attitude. Another contribttting .factor that has been suggested (Salamone 1977:409) is that anthropoIogists and missionaries are actually sirnilax; both believing they lzave tlze truth, being protective of the people among whom they m r k , and opposing that which they define as evil. Burridge C 1978:5) argues that Maiinowski's diaries display an animus towad missionaries which has overtones of an ~inresofvedOedipus problem: ""Missionaries had fathered the wcrrk to which he was dedicating himself with typicaf missionary zeal-on the other side of the fence.'"

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Since the invcdtvement of some anthropotogists with missionaries will n o doubt: continue, we sII10ufd be concerned with the bases of tlze negative attitude whiclz many of us manifest and be candid in deating with it, An unwilingness to d o so can resuit in a failure to control for bias in fieid research (cf. Salamone 1979:57). This is especially imporeant in areas such as Oceanta, where an analysis of: missionary endeavor is crucial to an understanding of the process of culture change,

Notes I. This paper is a revision of one given at the 76th annual meeting ofthe American Anthropological Associatioxl in Houston, Texas, in November 1977. X wish to thank Micbaet A, Rynk-iewichh r commenting an an earlier draft. 2. Although neither a textbook nor an ethnography) Boutilier, Hughes, and Tiffany f 1978) Is an important volume specificalfy devoted to an arhhropologicai evaltlation of missionaries and missionary endeavors in Oceania. 3. Burridge f 1978:8) remarks that "the general corrdemrxation of all missionary activity followed by the exception of partimlar indkidrtals or a partimlar rnissisn body knc~wnby the respoildent is, of course, a well-known syndrome: 'Some of my best friellds are JewslGathotics/Negrc>es/missionaries~'' 4, For examt~lesof the effect of religious beliefs on the occurrence andiar directiorl of culture change, see Mitl(1944), Kopytoff ( 1 9641, bwrence f f 9641, Miller (Z975), Oshorne ( t 970), Peel (19681, ltibeiro (1"362), and FVallace (1970). 5,Qhviousty, one does rxot 11ave to believe in the existence of supematurals to take the position that religious betiefs are very important and that they do affect other facets of culture (cf. Geerti: 1966). 6. In addition to Codrington f 11891), who is probably the best-known, Forman (t9"78:45-46) lists 14 missiox~ariesin Ocerznia alotle who are weit known for their et-hnographic contributions.

References Kennett, John W. 1946. The itrterpretation of Ptrebiu c~~lture: A qtrestion of vaiues. Sout.12western Jotnrnul o{Anthmpology 2:361--74, Kautifier, Jarnes A., Daniel T Hrxghes, and Sllaron W. Tifhrxy. Editors. 1978. Mission, churclz, muzd sect in Occrunia, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Kurridge, Kenelm Q, L, 1978, ""Itrodtrction: Missionary occasions," in Mission, cliturc12, U M Lsect ~ in flce~rrl'u, Edited by JamesA, Boutilier, Uaaiel 2'. Huglles, and Sharon TiEany, pp. 1-30. Ann Arbor: Universiv of Michigan Press. Chagnon, Napoleon A, 1967.Yanr>mamii:The fierce people, Nat~ira2History 78:22--3 1. 1974, Studjfi~g the Ez;i3nourruurrb,M m York: Hoit, ltinehart and Winston. Codri~~gton, K. H. 1891. The ~Melancisiuns:Studies itz tlzeir urtthrqology urzd folklore. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Coison, Eliubeth. 1976. Culture and progress, Amerhrt Atztlitrqologist 78:261-71. Embel; Carol R,, and Melvin Ember. 1977. 2d edition. Cultzrml anthroj~ology~ Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall. Evans-Pritchard, E. E, 1965. IITi"zeoriesc$ primitiw re1igior1, L~ndon:Oxford University Press.

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1 9 7 . Religion and the arhhropologists, Pr~~cticl;~I Atztlitropology 19:193-206, f Originally published in Blackjriurs 4 f 14801: 104-18, April t 960.) Forman, Charies W 1978,"Foreigr~missionaries in the Pacific islands drrring the 20th century,'Yn Mission, chtirc22, ~ n sect d in Ocr;:c.~~zia. Edited by James A, Noutilier, Uaniel 7'. Hughes, and Sharon W, Tiffany, pp. 35-63. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, Fortune, Weo, 11363. %rcerers cfflobu. New York: Uutton. Geertz, Ctifford, 1966,"Religion as a cultural systefn,'Yir Anthrqolngicc~laj~pmaclzesto the stud)! (fre-elkirtrr.Edited by Michael Barztctn, pp, 1-46. New York: Yraeger. Giuckman, Max, 1962. ""Ls rites de passage:" in Essays on the ritual ofsnciab relations. Mited by Max Gluckman, pp. 1-52, blanchester: University af Manchester Press. Graburn, Nelson K, H. 1969. Eskirnos ~virhourigloos: Socii~clland economic devekoj~merttin Stigluk. New X1rk Little, Rrowrr. Hill, W W* 1944, The Navaho Indians and the Ghost Dance of 1890.Rmen'cltn Rrrthr(~j~oEo~ b46:523-27, t Hipplcr, Arthur E. 1974. Some alternative viewpoints of the negative results of EuroAmerican contact with nor%-Westerngrorrps. Americun Ant/~rtapologist76:334-37. Hogbin, fan. 1964. R (;uau'ulcunuf soctely: Il'he Kanka-sj~eakers,Mew York: Holt, Kinehart and Winstun, Horto~l,Robin, 11 37 l. Africa11conversion. Afr~;141:85-108. Hughes, Daniel 'K 1978. "Mutual biases of anthropologists and missionaries:" in Mission, church, (anclsect i~aClce~~yzila, Edited by lames A. Korrtifier, Daniel 3". Hughes, and Sharon W Tififa~~y, pp. 65-82. Axln Arbor: U~ziversityof Michigan Press. Jocano, F. Landa. 19669, Gm~vitzgup i~aa Plailipl3ine burncl, New York: Hok, Rinehart and 'b2'instua. Keesing, Roger M. 1976. Cultuml arzt!zrt~pology:A cowzwrnj?orary~perspative. New York: Holt, Kinehart and 'b2'inston. Kopytoff, I p r . 1964, "Classifications of reiigiorzs movements: Analytic and synthetic:" in ,";ynirj)ositrmon new ~aj~i~maches to ihe sliucly ofreligiarz. Edited by Jrrne Helm, pp. 77-90. Seattle: Uniwrsity of Washington Press. cliturch, urzd sect L s ~:keh ,Sione. 1978. ""Corzciusion: Retrospect and prospect:" in 4Wissinr~, in Oceauzia, Edited by lames A. Noutiiier, Da~liet7: Hughes, and Shart~nW. Tiffany, pp. 457-64, Ann Arbor: U n i ~ r s i t yof Michigan J>ress, Lawrence, Peter. 11364. Road helong carp: A sfudj! (6r?ze cargo mawment in the S~~tatl~ern M ~ Z I ~JIIStrict L Z ~ Io~f N e ~ vGair~ec~. Manchester: tiniwrsity of Manchester Press. Selected readings. Edited by 1970. "Daughter of time," in (Jlllfures of the P~cz'Jic: Thornas G. Harding and Ben f. Wallace, pp. 267-84, New York: Free Press. Leach, E. K, 11354. PoEificwl strzscrzres of highlrznd Rzarmu: A slably ofK.~chltzsncl~lstrzscfzre, London: G. BeII. Lewis, Diane. 1973. Anthropology and coloniaiism. cl-;RREl;r AVTI IRC)POIX)C;V Z4:58 1-91. Lowie, Robert W. 1963, Religion in htzman life. Americarz Rrrthroj3ologist 45:532-42, Iixpat~tZ(;"rt urzd pumdnx urztizrof?oEogiMiddleton, fohn, 1970. The studjf ofthe L1igbtzr~1: caI resea~h.New York: Holt, Kinehai? and Winston. Miller, Eixxter S, 1975, Shamans, power symbcrls, and change in Argentine Toba cuitrxxe. Americurr Erhnologht 2:477-96. O%rier~,Del~ise,and Allton Pfoeg. 1964. AccuIt~~ratioxl xnovexnents among the wester11 Uani, Awzericun Anthropolrjgbt 66(2), pt. 2:28 1-92. Osborne, Kenneth B. 1W0, A Christian graveyard cult in the New Guinea highlands. h c ticwl AntizropoEop 17:10-1 5.

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Peel, J. D. tii. 1968. AEuJurra: A religlclus mollement umorzf:fi-re Yorubtz, Lor~don:Qxfc~rdUniversity. Press. Powdermaker, Hortense, 1966, Strarqer urzd frierzd: TIte way clfun alzllzropalogist. New York: W. kr.Norton. Kadcliffe-Brown, A. R, 1952, ""Rligion and society,'5n Structure urtdfurtction itz pritrzitive snciery, Edited by A, K. KadctiEe-Brown, pp, li 53-77. New York: Free Press. Kibeiro, Rend. f 962. ""traaitian rnessiallic movements,'3in iWillennial dreams in actior~, Edited by Sylvia L. Thlvpp, pp, 55-69. The I-lag~e:Moaton. ltichards, Cara E. t(377.2d edition. Pec~j~le in perspective: An introduction to cultuml antjzrtayrologj4 New k r k : Randomn House. ltichardson, Miles. 1975, Anthropologist-the myth teller, Arrrerictrn Ethnologist 2:517-33. Salamone, Frank A. 1976. Lear~~Ing to be a Ghristiarx: A comparative study- ~Wissiology 453-64, 1 9 7 , Anthropologists and missionaries: Competition or reciproci*cy?fE~rm~rrz Organizuliorz 36:407-12, 1979, Epistemological implications of field~vorkand their consequences. Arnerictrn Anthrc~j~olc~gist 8 1:44-60. Tif-fa~~y, Sharon W 1978. "Introduction to part 4: Indigenous response,'' irr Mission, church, ~ n sect d in Oceunia. Edited by Jarnes A. I30rxtilier~Daniel 7: Hughes, and Sl~aronW. TiEat~y.,pp. 301-5,Axln Arbor: Ulliversity of Michigaxz Press. Torzkinsor~,Robert, 1974, The Jigulorzg Mob: Aboriginl-rEviclors ofthe ~lazsertcrmsade, Mcnlo Park, Galif.: Cumxnings. T~~mbull, Colin, 1961. Tizeforest pmple: A strrdy of the pygmies of the Cor~~fto, Garden City: Doubleday. Wailace, A. F. F:. 1970. The death and re27irth ofthe Serteca, New York: Ilandom Wottse (Vintage Rooh).

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From Tupi?to the Land Without Evi The Christianization of Tupi-Guarani Cosmology

Throughout history, missionaries have appropriated items horn the cultural repertoires of the missionized in the interests of spreading Christianity among culturally diverse peoples, Missionaries in eastern South America during the early ccrlonial period translated the Christian message into terms taken from the cosmolctgy of the by progressive T~lpi-Guaranipeaples. Recent cultural borrawi~~gs missionaries, however-notably their use of the Tupi-Ct~aranibelief in an earthly paradise-have a different purpose, aiming not at tlze canversion of the Indians, but at the c.onvc.rsion of tlze church. Ae~tFzor"sbstmcr

Gerts sans foi, dirent des Tupi leurs premiers ohservrrteurs, "Tlhkolc~giensde 2Xmzbrique du S E I ~dcrivaiton : rkcemmerzt fnef Gtdumni. En &reces ddeux jt4gement-s corz truires, quatres siPclcrs d'hhtstoire . . . " -HB&ne GLastres, La Tevre sans mall

Anlerican Ethnologist i4(1) (February 1987): 126-i 3g.

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IT

H A S B E E N A C O M M O N PRACTICE, throughout the history of missionization, for missionaries to appropriate items from the cultural repertoires of the missionized in the interests of successful evangetization. Despite the acknowtedged danger of this strategy-that the Christian message w u I d be bent to the shape of the local culture rather tlzan the reverse-it fc~unc2its justification either in considerations of practical necessity or, better yet, in a belief that the elements of indigenous culture chosen h r translation into Christian terms were, in reality, adt~mbratiansof the Christian message, seeds of the Gospel planted by God so that peoples all over the world should reccrgnize and accept the true religion when they were fortunate enough to encounter it. The Catholic missionary priests who attempted to spread Christianity among the Tupi-Cuarani peoples of Brazil and hraguay sought to translate their message into a language their potential conlrerts corzfd tznderstand, Thus, they referred to God as TupZ, a figure from Tupian cosmolog Mrho was believed to cause tht~nder;Iiglztning, and rain horn his lzome in the sky. The Devil came to be k n o ~ ~bynthe name tzsed for a variety of malevolent forest spirits-Yuruyari, or Giropari. The culture hero who, according to the Tupi-Guarani peoples, had tauglzt them lzow to plant their crops and had given them the rules to organize their society, was also assimilated to the Christian project: where the Indians saw the hand of Maira-Monan, their creator, transformer, and lawgiwr, the missionaries saw a first contact with God, Ancl so the creed cauld be preached to the Tupi-Guarani peoples in a version of their own language:

Ar~jlaiarToupan T h e opap htou ma&tktirouan Mognangare ybouy Jesus Chrkt Tayre o y q e vae

I believe in God the Allnighty Father Crcrutor cf the etdrth auzd irr Jeszrs, kfis only Stm3

Four centuries fater, at a very different moment in the history of the Church, missionary priests have again turned to Tupi-Cuarani cosmological themes in order to =press the word of tl7e Gospel, This time, the element of native refigion clzosen for translation into Christian terms is the belief in an earthly paradise, a land withorzt evil. While the early missionaries were aware of this belief, they could not put it to their own uses fbr reasons that will be examined betow. It is only now, as radical missionaries seek wdys to extricate their vocation from its colonial past, that the indigenous Tupi-Guarani quest for utopia in this world takes on its rhetoricaf force for Christianity From benighted savages in thrall to Satan, the Xlldians lzave become prophets of liberation theology.

Early Encounters The first Europeans to arrive along the coast of what is now Brazil and Paraguay found the region inhabited by peoples closely related to one another in their lan-

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guage and general mode of life, These peoples, referred to collectively as Tupi, or Tuyinamba, in Brazil and Guarani in P.draguay,%ubsisted on slash and burn horticulture, hunting, fishing, and gathering. They lived in villages compctsed of several multifamily longhouses grouped around a plaza that served as a center fbr cornxn~~ntty activities. There were headmen, who were recognized as leaders of fonghouse groups, and chiefs, who exercised authority at the village level. Shamans occupied a position of special prominence, mediating b e ~ e e nthe human cammunity and various categories of spirit beit~gsthat inhabited the TuyiGuarani cosmos. The Tupi-Cuarani were fierce warriors whctse practice of roasting and consuming their captured enemies in cannibalistic feasts prctvided the dominant image Europeans came to have of thern. Xn the view of most of the early travelers and missionaries, the Tupi-Guarani seemed to be a peoylte totally without ""retigion." Nc3ne of their beliefs and customs appeared to fit within this category as the Eurctyeans understood it, Father Manuel Nobrega, the first Jesuit Provincial of Brazil, described the natives in early fetters written shortly after his arrival in 1549 as a people with no k n c d edge of God, who worshipped nothing, and had no idols; lire wcjrried about how he coufd teach them religious cc>nceptswhen the appropriate terms were cornptetely absent from their own language (Leite X 5, 6 ; 9, 3).W~ndrkThevet, the French cosmographer who visited the Tupinamba in 1554, characterized thern as being without religion, without any organtzeci forms of prayer, and without any kncjwtedge of the divine (Thewt 1575 11:913). The natixs of eastern Scttzth America were seen as lacking even those idols and ktishes that constituted the False religions of other tribal peoples. This made them still more backward than pagans and savages elsewhere; some European obsemers wondered whether they had souls at aff, whether there was any hope of reaching them with the Christian message. Yet, because of their greater ignorance, or innocence, they could also be seen as more amenable to conversion. As Nobrega put it in his famous Dz'ulogue on the Corzversz'arzuftlzr Savages,"it is easier to convert the ignorant than to canvert those who are malicious and proud"; thus, as barbarous and intractable as the Brazilian natives may seem, the Churcb"s prospects are brighter with them than with heretics or Jews fleite XI 51, f l). N i l e tfze Tk~pi-Guaraniwere not credited wit11 having any autlzentic religion of their ~twn,they were often seen as having some awareness, albeit fragmentary and conhsed, of the true Christian religion. Their belie& about Tuyg were commonly interpreted as intuitinns of tlze t>eity, while their fear of various forestdwlling spirits was seen as knowledge about the Devil, Aside from these identifications, which will be discussed in greater detail below, an indigenous rnytl-r about the destruction of the world by water offered apparent proof that the Xndians knew about Noah and the Floc>d."The mlssictnaries also believed that St. Thornas had passed through eastern South America, introducing the natives to tfze Gospel. Sr. Thornas, or Thorn&,whose name bore a fortuitous semblance to one of the terms of address for the Tupi-Guarani culture hero-transformer (Sumd or ZumC),7 was thus credited wit11 having bmught to the Indians tfzose as-

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pects of civilization they currently enjoyed, The sacred rctcks, which, according to T~lpi-Guaranilegenci, bore the imprint of their hem's footsteps as lze passed from the world of men to the world beycrnd, were seen by the Christians to mark the previous passage of the Apostle (Leite X 8, 3; 9, 7; 9, 9; dxvreux f 864:338; MCtraux f928:fC;-17; Cfastres f9TS:27-28). The Indians likewise found a place for the Europeans in their own order of things. White men were generally referred to as "Maira,""or ""Caraiba," the term tlze Tuyi-Guarani used for their most powerful shamans, who were felt to be descendants of Maira-Monan, Their legends tell of how Maira had left earth and gone to live in the sky. One myth tells of his death at the hands of men; others recount his anger and disappointment at how they lived (Nktraux 1928:fO-14). The Europeans, with their power and resources, seemed to be the people Maira had turned to instead, whom he had elected to favor with his gifts in the place of those who had failed him (Thevet 1575 IX:913-915). Missionary letters and travel accounts repeatedly note the curiosity and entl-tusiasm with which Indians responded tcr the preaching of the priests, whom they considered to be potential sources of p o w r and lcnavvledge. Conversion, however, was another matter. Tlze recorded dialogues between tlze traveler b e s d%vreux and various Tupi-Cuarani headlnen and shamans, which offer mtzch vatuable informafon on native perceptions of Christianity and prctvide a partict~larlyriclz vein for anyone wishing to mine the ironies of missionization, document the disparity betwen what the priests wanted to teach and what the fndians wanted to learn (dxvreux l864:325ff.), The conditions of Tt~pi-Guaranilife presented serious obstacles to evangelization, What was most frustrating to the missionaries was the ease with which the e another location. The lack of a Indians could abandon their villages and m c ~ to centralized political authority was also a major problem. As one fesuit brotlzer noted, "if they had a king, and he were to convert, the rest wotzld do likewise" (Leite I 26, 2). Instead, the missionaries, who were few in number, were forced to travel from village to village and had to begin anew in each place. The work that they put inttr a particular community, moreover, often came to nclught, since the people simply disappeared into the forest, The strategy of itinerant preaclzit~gand mass baptism seemed to be yroducit~glittle in the way of encluring results. If the Indians were going to be converted to Christianity and made to give up their heatllen customs-cannibalism, polygam.t",improper marriages between cousins and betwen uncles and nieces-the missionaries had to be in a position to exercise more control over the native population. Addressing himself to the governor of Brazil, Nobrega wrote You must make laws that prt~hihitthem from eati~lgh ~ ~ m flesh a n and going to war without: the permission of the governor; that permit them only one wife; that oblige them to wear clothi~lg. . . ; that outlaw their sorcerers . . . ; that make them Live in one place without movix~garurrnd [ k i t e 11 66, I I I.

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We stressed that the Indians could not be converted until they had first been subjected to colonial at~thority(Leite XI1 13,4). Jose de Anchieta, Pu'obrega's fellow Jesuit and the most Earnous of all missionaries t~ Brazil, argued that "for people of this kind, the best fczrrn of preaching is with the sword and the spear" "(I 74,8). X t was also important to protect the Indians from the local cotonists, who sought to enslave them and who set such a deytorable examyte of what so-called civilized Christians were like. X n Brazil, the Jesuits were able to carry out their program with tlze support of Mem de S&,whsr became the third Governtrr of Brazil in 1557, and devoted his energies to subduing and paciving the Tuptnambzlt, Large numbers of people were gathered together into fixecZ communities, or aldeius, In Paraguay, redzncciones were set up by the Jesuits among the Guarani from l610 on; Montoya established 11. b e ~ e e n1622 and 1629, The history of the Paraguayan missions is a particuiarly viczlent one; the redzdcciorzes were repeatedly attacked by slavers and colonists in search of labor, and frequently lzad to be abandoned and reestabfished elsewhere. Raids and forced migrations took a heavy toll on the native population. By 1707, howevet; the Jesuits had succeeded in setting up a total of 30 "cities,""which together formed what came to be caIlecZ ""The 13araguayanState of the Jesuits.""" Life witl-tin the Jesuit communities was higl-tly regimented in terms of village tayaut, work organization, schooling, and punishments meted out to those who broke the rules. lieligious observances w r e carried on with great ysrmy and ceremony.%laborate performances were staged for visiting civil and religiot~sdignitaries, so that they could bear witness to the Jesuit project of creating rational, divinely ordered utopias among the savages of the New World. In l76"7he Jesuits were ctxpelled, The re~luccz'onmancZ ullkeias were invaded by colonists gl-eedy for the resources and labor they lzarbcrred, By tlze early 18th century, the Tupi-Guarani peoples had disappeared completely from the eastern coast of Soutil America. Tupg m d Yurupari: Missionary and Sham=

Tesuit missionization among the Tupi-Cuarani, as elsewhere, inwlved a certain amrrunt of adaptation to the local culture. Native music and dance were tzsed in religious ceremonies. Language learning was a constant preoccupation, since the missionaries were anxious to preach effectively to tlze natives in their ow11 tanguage. The methods tzsed by the Jesuits brought them into conflict with the first Bishop of Brazil, who arrived in June of X552 and shortly thereafter complained to Pu'obrega's superiors in Lisbon. He was most disturbed to see Christian Europeans aping the customs of savages, felt that the missionaries were too lax about how the Indians dressed and wczre their hair, and objected to such practices as hearing confessions thmugh interpreters (Leite X 49). Nobrega defended himself in a spirited series of letters in which he noted the unreasonableness of many of the Bishop" demands and argued far the effectiveness of the order's missionary

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strategies (Leite 1 51; 54). As things turned out, the Bishop" sow inrrofvernent in local custom went beyoncl his worst kars, since he and about a lzundred traveling companions were captured and eaten by a group of Tupinamba after being shipwrecked off the coast of Bahia in f 556-an event that led to serious reprisals against tlze native population and provided particularly cornyefling justification for tile tight system of colonial control sought by the Jesuits, In adapting their evangeticaf practice to the local culture, colonial missionaries looked for native terms that could be used to translate Christian concepts. First and foremost, some m y would have to be fc~undto refer to God. The term chtrsen by the missionaries, TupZ, was taken from Tupi-Guarani lore about a spirit who lived in the sky and was believed to cause thunder, lightning, and rain." This particular figure, associated with the heavens and possessed of a pcrwer that provs~kedfear and awe among the Indians, soon attracted the attention of chroniclers and missionaries, wllo saw TupZ either as a conwnient point of attachment for explaining about Gad or an actual prefig~~ration of Christianity in indigenous betiefs. Thevet, whtr saw Tupi-Guarani beliefs in TupB as the dosest these people had come to reiigic,n, noted that the poor savages believe there is a T o ~ ~ p up a n above who makes thunder and rain, atthough they don't pray to him or horlor him in any way. Yet, the name of God is so sacred that if you speak to them of it, they listen atte~ltively,with admiration [Thevet 1575 X1:92 1-9221.

In a well-known letter describing lzis early impressions of:Brazil and its native inhabitants, Nobrega wrote that jtlhese people w r s h i p rxoehing, nor do they k n w God except fbr the fact that thunder, whom tl~eycall Tupana, is considered in some way divine. And since we have no other convenient w r d to corzvey to them the knowiedge of God, we cali him Father Tupana [Leite 1 9,3].

Montoya, the most famous of the Tesuit missic>naries tc> IJaragu;ty;dexloped a folk etymology fbr TupB, arguing that the term was ccrmposed of tu, signieing ""amiration," and p& an interrogathe (Cfastres f975:22). The Indians soon came to use the term in the missionary Fdshion, for the mysterious and pt>werfufdeity trf the Europeans, and produced their own interpretations of Tugii's capabilities, Yves Bxvreux reports a particularly engaging dtscourse on TuyH by a man intent a n demonstrating his knowledge abotlt tlze Resurrection: when Toupan gives everyotle back their bodies, if a xnan wants to wear his hair long and have a wnnan" body in heaven, then he can pray to Tc3rryan to give him one, and he will live in heavexi in the cclmpany of the wornen rather than the men j d'Evreux 1864:2623,

As a complement to the choice of TupZ as a Tuyi-Guarani name for God, the term Vurupari, or Gz'rqari, was used to refer to the Devil, In tlzis case, the bor-

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rowed term was one used by the Tupi-Guarani fbr a variety of dangerous and malign spirits who lived in the forest anci were believed to cause lzarrn to those who encountered them. These spirits, also referred to in some Tupi-Guarani fanguages by the term urrharzga and its variants, constitute a heterogenous category associated both with spirits of the dead and nonhuman beings. Since these spirits were associated with the dark and since they were ccrnsidered the major catzse of human misfortune, it was easy for the Europeans to make a connection with the t>evil. Nobrega, for example, observed that ""Ithe Xlldians] know about the t>evil and fear him, especially at night" "cite I 8,3). The Devil. was atso believed to be present in native society in the person of the shaman, whose exceptional powers were seen to come from the dark side anci to reflect the cfeverness of the Devil in chrrosing the most gifted to be his servants." This identification of shamans with the Devil was one major strategy adopted by the missionary priests in their struggle to capture the shamanshmonopoly over tfze spiritual life of the Indians; the other was to deny that shamans had any real powers at all and to view thern instead as mere charbtans who engaged in low forms of trickery, As Father Luiz de Gr8 wrote in a letter to Loyola, "kfrhey have a great many sorcerers who are, in my view, only liars and deceivers, and do not have any communication with the demon, despite what is often said by those who have been jiving here for a long time" @cite XI 25,8). The shamans, for their part, sought to make their ow11 bridges to what they saw as a new source of spirituaf power. The famorzs dialogue between Uves dzvrerxx and the great shaman Pacamont dctclrments the reality bargaining that went on in this respect: tfze T~~pinambA leader; well aware that the Europeans possessed ycrwer b e y ~ ~ nhis d own imagining and anxious to appropriate some of it for himself, was told that these were unworthy and evil motives, that servants of Tlryg must be lzumbfe anci not seek to set tl~emselvesabove others (d%vreux: 1864:325ff,).One shaman shocked Nobrega with the appalling and blasyhemrrus claim that he was himsetf a god and a good friend of this God of the Europeans who lived in the sky (Leite I 8, fO)-a claim rooted in the T~lpi-Cuaranibelief that great shamans were descendants of their culture hero, Since Europeans in general, and priests in particular, were seen in similar terms, missionaries occupied the position of super-shamans, or "menlgods,""to use MCtrauxk term. fiescriptions of visits made by the Tesuit Prc>vinciafto native villages shcw that he was received with the same set of rituals used to wefcirme an important shaman (Leite XI1 41, C;). It was the missionaries2fask to benefit from this identificdtian while transforming it into a new structure of political and symbolic domination, and to refuse whatever bid native religious practitioners may have made ta be treated as professional cotleagues instead of spiritual dependents.

Land Wxthsut Evil Ethnohistaricai and linguistic evidence shows that the Tupi-Grrarani peoples encountered by Eurcryeans along the eastern coast of South America were them-

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selves relatively recent arrivals to the area. The large-scafe and far-ranging poyulation movements that brought them to the coast have been chronicled in detail by Mdtraux and others.I2 These migrations, for wi~ichthe Tupi-Guarani peoples are Parnous, were cc.ommonly motivated by the search for an eartl-tly paradise-a ""hnd without evil,'" as tl-te native term can best be translated, According to Tupi-Guarani belief, the land without evil was a place where crops grew by themselves, people spent their time feasting and dancing, and no one ever died, The land without evil was the permanent abode of the culture hero, and the souls of excepticznal individuals were said to go there after death, Xt was also possibie, hwever, for the living to reach the land without evil by finding the right path and obsexlping a stringent regime of fasting, chanting, and dancing. E They had to be willing to abandon their villages and gadens, to endure privatinn, and to trust in the ef6cacy of:their rituals. There were differing traditions as to the precise location of: the tancl witl-tout evil-it was sometimes said to lie across the ocean to the east or, on the contrary, inland at the center of the earth, The location of the land without evil was sometimes expressed as the place where the sky and land met (Mdtraux f 928:26). If a journey proved unsuccessful, the pdgrims could reverse their direction, as frequently occurred, Shamans with exceptional powers were believed to have the ability to find the land without evil and lead others there. These great shamans (carui or caruibu) considered themselves ttr be descendants of Maira, the creatorltransformer. So different were their powers from those of ordinary shamans (pajt) that it is perhaps misleading to cafl both by a single term; contempcrrary chroniclers ccrmmonfy referred to the caraita as a ""prophet." The paj& and headman exercised their respecdw forms of influence and lfeadership czver particular villages. The arrthority of the caraiba, on the other hand, transcended the level of village organization and intervillage politics. The caraz'bu inhabited a place apart from tlze ardinary social sphere af kinship ties and political alliances, He was able to move freely betwen villages, even those at war with one another. The visit of a mraiba was a major ceremonial event, ccrmmrrnly hightighted by long speeches in which the land without evil figured as a central tc>pic.l4 At various times in Tupi-Guarani history, such a shamanlprophet woufd undertake a journey in search of the land without evil, gathering arcrund himself a large number of followers, Among the more famous of these migrations is one that brotlght a group of coastal Tuyi to Chachapoyas, Peru, in 1549, after a decade af travels (M4traux 1927:21). Migrations in search af the land without evil persisted up into the present century. They figure prominentfy throughout the colonial peric~das a response to oppression. In some cases, they were led by Europeans or by individuals of mixed Euro-Indian ancestry. Unlike many cargo cults and revivalistic movements that followed colonial conquest in other parts of the w r f d , however, the search for the Xand without evil was clearly a part of TupiGuarani life in precolonial times. The proylzetic tradition surrounding belief in

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an earthly paradise has, in fact, been viewed by one ethnographer as the heart of T~lyi-Grraranireligion (Clastres 1975). The journeys themselves imposed extraordinary and protracted hardship upon those who undertook them. Famine, epidemics, and attacks by hostile gmups decimated the ranks of: migrants until they were reduced to small, straggling bands of survivt3rs. The ccrntinuing eagerness of Tupi-Cuarani grorzps to undertake these utopian quests, given that they inevitably ended in failure at best and catastrophe at worst, was a source of amazement ancl exasperation to the Catholic priests. The migrations, and the shamans who led them, stood in the way of missionary efforts to controt local poyvrlations, and the priests were continually trying to convince people that tlze shamans were charlatans or agents of the Devil, whcr were leading them d ~ w nthe path to destruction. The refationship betwen Tupi-Guarani ideas about the land without evil and Christian notions of Paradise was viewcl in a number of different ways by European missionaries and trwefers. In Nobrega? view, tl-te Tupi-Guarani had no knowledge of heaven or hell, just a belief that the deceased ~ CtoI a gc~odplace (Leite I 9, 5). Tkevet prcrvides a pidginized version of the land without evil as a pface wl-tere souls go after death to live with Taupan (Thevet 1575:923), Vires d%vreux, writing at a later time, argues that important elements of Christian belief are atready to be found in Tbpi-Guarani lore, though he calls attention to the Fact tlzat the Tupt-Cuarani paradise is an earthty one: They have always believed that there was a Hell where Girolzari jived, and where the wicked went . . . Similarly, their traditiorl held tbat God lived happily in the heavens, and that those of good spirit lived with him: as for those of their ancestors who had lived welt, they went to a place of delights, an earthly one, however, where they lacked for rxotlzing. Recatrse of these beliefs, it was easy fbr us to make them ux~derstand what they were st~pposedto believe about Paradise, about Hell, about a third place, where souls were purged before entering Heaven, a fourth place where little children w11o had never been Baptized because they died before the age cif season were received so tbat they would not have to endure suffering, but where they could dso newr see God, since Baptism is the key to Heaven [d%vl-eux 1864:322-3231,

While relationships of the sort discerned by Yves d'Evreux were occasionalfy noted in European accounts, the Tupi-Guarani myth of the land without evil did not gmcaf1y figure among tl-tose elements of: indigenous belief appropriated by missionaries for the purpcrse of proselytizing. The picture of life in the land without evil, its location in this world, and its association with migra"eon, with shamanistic power and it~digenousmessianism, no doubt made T~lpi-Guarani belief in an earthty paradise a less than suitable vehicle for conveying Christian doctrine, m e n we turn, Izowever; to the current phase of Cathofic missionary activity in South America, W encounter a historical moment at which this native myth has become particularly suited to the church"^ own ideological needs and purpcxes. The prophetic bent of Tuyi-Guarani religion and its dlream of an earthly paradise

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provide an indigenous scenario for a Church seeking to reclaim its own prophetic role and to locate tlze struggle for salvation in the trnfolding of Izuman lzistory.

The "Mew CfiurcW In order to provide a context for tznderstanding recent invcscations of TupiGuarani cosmology in Catholic missionary discourse, it is useful to review briefly tlze major changes that have taken place in the Brazilian Clzurcl~over tlze last few decades, and to consider their effects on missionary practice-l? Up until the f 950s, the position of the Church in Brazil was based upon its institutional establislzment as the official national religion and on its alliances with local efites at the ccrmmtznity level. In the ccrurse of the 1 9 5 0 ~the ~ Church w s forced to acknovvfedge that the urban wctrking classes, and sectors of the rural peasantry as well, were slipping from its grasp, The need for change was first argued in terms of a struggle against the menace of ccsmmtznism,but, by the beginning of the f 960s, more radical voices began to dominate the Church" call for sociai reform. Catholic Action, whiclz had been establislzed in Brazil along traditionalist lines in the 1930s, became the focus for a socially active, progressivist laity, Its various branches, nofably Jrrventude Operarlia Catblica, the hctory workersbouth group (JOC) ancl Juventude UniversitBria Catdlica, tlze university students"raup (TUC) played a central role in the development of Cathtslic radicatism. In t l ~ eKuhttschek era, Catholic bishops were involved in planning and carrying out tlze government" regional development program for the Northeast. The Movimento de Educac;ao de Base (MEB), a popular literacy program that grew out of radio schools started by the Bishop of Natal in 1958, involved the Church in a system of popular education based on political and social canskousness-raising. Many Catholic activists began to explore possible linkages with Marxist approaches to social change.'" The cauy of 1964 put a brake on Church activism ancl ushered in a period of repression just as the Second tiatican Ctruncil was prc>vidinga new charter for the Church along the general lines of changes already in progress in Brazil. Despite persecution of the Churclz by tlze government, hc>wever, the legitimacy that the Church enjt,-yed enabled it to continue serving as a channel for social protest and potitical opposition at a time when other outlets had ceased to exist, Moreover, after the Seconcl General Conference of GELAM, the Latin American Bishops? Council that met in 1969 in Medellin, the Latin American Church had a wtfformulated plan of acticrn in Iine with the principles of Vatican 11, Xn the course of the 1970s, a number of special organizations were formed within the Brazilian Church devcsted to variorzs marginalized sectors of the population, The first such organization to emerge in the post-coup period was the Consetho Xndigenista Missionhrio (CXMI), which brougl~ttogether Catholic missionaries w r k i n g with Brazilian Indian groups," Given the general climate of poIi"rca1 repression, activism on behalf of indigenous poyvrlaf ons provided a less dangerous b c u s for social protest than activism on behalf of the rural peas-

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antry or urban proletariat, In later years, similar organizations were formed to bring tlzese other groups under the social and political umbrella of the Church. The ComissBo Pastoral da Terra (CPT), formally established in 1975, focused on the common Xand-rights prctbtems faced by peasants, settlers, and Indians-an issue tlzat had become central to Churclz workers in &ontier areas. Church invc>lvementin struggles over land rights vas brought into the cities with the formation of a pastoral unit devoted to favelados, the inhabitants of Brazil's urban squatter settlements. The Pdstoral OperAria was organizecl to coordinate the pastoral effbrt with factory mrkers. These various organizations w r e placed tznder the general authority of the National tSishops%~onference(Conferencia Nacional dos Bispos do Brasit, or CNBU), which emerged as a prominent voice in national affairs as the Church developed a more independent and critical position vis-8vis the state, In local ccrmmunities, activist clergy became involved with the small Christian base communities (comunidades Be base, or CEBs) that merge evangdicaX reflectinn with planning for community development.18 At the time of its founding, CIMI was not a markedly radical organizaticzn. Its broadly based membership reflected tile full range of missletnary orientations from the most conservative to the most progl-essive. In succeeding years, however, CIMI" activist members were able to determine the directions taken by the group, just as in more general terms the prctgressives were able to become the artic~~late voice of-the Brazilian Clzurcl~,their influence far outweiglzit~gtheir numbers." CIMX has played a major role in fostering a pan-Indian political mcjvement in Brazil, sponsoring meetings of tribal leaders, helping to organize tand-rights campaigns, publishing a series of btlfletins ancl a newspaper on Indian affairs, and organizing training cc~nferencesfor missionaries, The leadership of CXMI has aXso been concerned with fczrmulating a new ideology of evangelization in line with the new role that Christian missionaries are being urged to adopt, The result has been a radical reorientation away from praselytizing toward political advc~cacy,which is itself seen as the most authentic form of evangelization possible at this moment in history. In accordance with the genera1 tenets of liberatic~ntheology, whereby working to realize the Kingdom of God requires engagement in the actual potitical struggles of the day the missionary acts out his vocation in tlze arena of lancl claims cases ancl confrontations with state-supported mtzttinational corpcrrations, This form of engagement is further legitimated by a new reading of the dcrctrine of the Incarnation: the assumption by Christ of a lzistoricaffy specific lzuman existence becomes the charter for a culturaffy relative missionary practice. Just as Christ tcrok on and shared in the condition of those among whom he lived, so tlze missinnaries%rst task, before they can begin to think about proselytizing, is to ""incarnate" thernsefves in native society. The Christian message that they bring as a result ofthis incarnaticzn will thus be a historically appropriate response to the Indianskwn needs ancl strivit~gs.Relativization transforms missionary practice and, at the same time, justiffes its ccrntinued existence in a postcolonial era,

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A conceptual dlstincticrn betwen ""religion" and "faith" "so informs this new definition of the missionary vocation. Whereas religion is viewed as the ideology of a particular sc->cioprrtiticalsystem, faith is seen as the universal essence of Clhristiainiw that transcends cultural boundaries, The Marxist critique of religion is thus accepted, absorbed, and neutralized. Progressive missionaries can admit the critique of religion as a set of mystifications that serve to mask and peryetuate exploitative social and economic relations, and at the same time locate the Christian message above and beyond the range of this critique.20 The rhetoric rrf entering intcr the culturaf universes of Brazit's tribal peoples must be placed in perspective. Radical missionaries do not, in fact, generally acquire a deep understanding of native cultures nor do they usually become Rueat in native languages, On the wntrary, what is happening is that missionaries are encountering Indians on the commrrn grotznd of a pofitical ccrnf-lictthe terms of which, are set by the missionaries\3wn society, Indians, rural peasants, and the urban poor are brought t~nciera single rubric by the "New Church,))which seeks to address the plight they share vis-8-vis the Brazilian state. Programmatic statements about the need for missionaries to become like Indians represent less a project for crossing cultural boundaries than a nativist svatement of political supportet! At present, the progressives within the Brazilian clergy are struggling against what one historian of the Brazilian Church has descril-sed as a ""conservative restoration" (Della Cava 1986). This conservative movement, whicl~has been gathering momentum over the last decade, receives support from an alliance with important sectors of the European clergy, from the powerful Archbish~3pof Medellin, Alfonso Lopez "fru~jillo,anci from the Vatican. The New Church, or People" Church, has, for its part, joined forces with various secular left-wing political grcrups. Its fate over the coming years will be an important part of the wider history of the Catlzolic Church in the late 20th century Land Without Evil and Kingdom of God On 22 April X9"7, in the Cathedral da S6 in SHo Paolo, the first celebration took place of a mass entitled ""The Mass of the Land Wthout Evi1" "issu Da Terra sem Makes), Set to native music drawn from v"cf.rir>usregions of South America, the mass is primarily the m r k of one of the most Eams>usof Brazil" progressive bishops, Uorn Pedro CasafdBfiga. Uorn Pedro, a political essayist and poet, Inas served as the bislzop of tlze frontier prelacy of S3o Felix do Araguaia since 1971. By the time of his inauguration as bishop, he had published a fierce denunciation of Brazil" devek(3ymerit policies, in which he focused on the activities of multinational corporations and agribusinesses in the Brazilian interior anci chronicled the devastation tl-teylzad brought to rural and indigenous sectors of the population.22 At his investiture, he wore a peasant" straw hat in place of the traditional episcopal mitre, and carried for his crosier a ceremonial cfub given ta him by the Tapirape Indians. From tlzat time, Dom k d r o has consistently been in the forefrcrnt of the pragressiw CburcKs struggle on behalf of Brazil" Indian peoples and rural settlers.

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The Mass of the Land Without Evil was cttmyosed during the year that was declared by the Brzzilian Churclz as the Alacz dos Mhrtz'res (Year of the Martyrs), 1978. This commemoration invc~lwda pointed redefinition of the notion of "martyr" tct fctcus specificafiy on those missionaries who had lost: their fives in recent years struggling for Indian rights and, more significldntfy, on the thousancis of Indians martyred by the Church-supyc~rtedcolonial enterprise over the centuries. The major part of:the mass is taken up by a denunciation of colonialism and a nu5t.m ctlka on the part of the Church itself. The Indians are represented as being closer to Christianity in their pristine state than they became once the missionaries took charge of their lives. At one point in tlze mass, a voice reyl-esenting the Indians says: Eu adorava a Deus, Maira em toda coisa, Tup3 de todo gesto

X worsi'zipl>edChd h/tur'ra in all tfzirzgs rf"uj?iiin every gesture -[CttsaldQliga et al. X 980:431

The equation of Christian faith with TugZ and Maira, a persisting legacy of cttloniai missionizatictn, is made to serve new missictnary purposes, The projective system of:the Church remains intact, bat in an inverted form. Native societies have beccrme the repositories of true Christianity; they have been transformed from manifestations of the Devil" work to manifestations of God's, while the colonialists, including earlier missionaries, are seen as agents of:destruction. This view is expressed in the strongest possibfe terms: E aris te missionamos, i~rfi6isau Evangeikcr. cravando em. tlia vi&a a cspada de urna 611;1z, Si~rosde Boa-nova, nuxn dobre de G~~ados! InfiCis au Evangelho, do Verbo Encar~~ado, te demos par mensagexn, ct~ltrtraforasteira, partirnos em metades a paz de tua vida, adoradora semyre . . . Quando r16s te ferramos caxn uxn Batistnu imyosto, rnarca de httmano gado, blasfemia do Natismo, vialapao da Graqa, e negaqao do Cristc) . . .

Arzcl we mkiorzized yim,

betrayers of the gospel, drit-,ing the Gmss into your lives /ike a s ~ ~ r c l , tlze Good Ne+vsrittgZYIg m deu& knell. Berrajjen of the (;usj~ei, ofthe Word Inclarnuttr, we gave yo U US a messttge an U ~ E V M C U I I L ~ R IVe tore ausutzder the peace ofyuur l$; your always worslzif~fuf Iqe . . . Clur N L J ~ I ~brunde~f S ~ S you like human c a ~ i e a E~Er;lsplzev~y af&gf~rism, m vhla tinuz ctffi"rc;tce, a negation cf G'hrbt . . .

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E r16s te diziamos, portadores da Morte, missicrnirios do Nada.

IVha were we lo si?ec~k10 yolk? We, who were carriers ~ { l l e ~ t f z mkiorzmries .s~fModzingrzess, -CasaXd4liga et d. 1980:43-44

The general message irf the mass is that the Church mtzst face up to its past sins and compensak for them with a new commitment, As Pedro Tierra says in his preFdce to the mass, The sarne Church that blessed the sword of the conquistadors and sacra~nentalized the massrzcre and extermination uf entire peoples in this rnass covers itself with ashes and makes its own profortnd penance . . . [despite the past] history continues and the Church maintains deep ties with the oppressed of America, Let our penitence corztribtrte to transforxning this tie into a march fctmard, side by side with the people on the path to their liberation [Casaldhligaet al. lY80:23],

The Church cttnksses and, having confessed, moves on, The special significance of the land without evil theme h r the contemporary Church is revealed in this same preface, in an insistence that the belief of the T~lpiGuarani peoples "was not [in] a Xeaven-without-evil: but a Land-wiz-lznut-evil, a possible utopid" 19813:23),Tupi-Guarani beliefs are thus mobilized in support of a particular interpretation of the Kingdam of God. Tllough not fully realizable in this wc>r1d,the Gngdom of God must be struggled fix first of ail in this world, since its meaning is to be understood not within a purely apocatypticlmitlenarian frame of reference, but thmugh locating God's purposes in human history, The authors of the mass have found a yirwerful point of attachment betwen the Tupi-Grrarani belief system and their ctwn, nameiy, a search for paradise that is an activity of this world. There is, to be sure, little of the specific substance of Tupi-Guarani ccrsmological beliefs to be found in the mass, On the ccrntrary, the native Brazilian experience takes on its positive meaning by being read into the Judeo-Christian narrative, The Tupi-Cuarani migrations that were once opposed and, when yirssible, suppressed by the Church are in this mass interpreted in the light of the Exodus of the Jews from Egypt: they represent the sacred jrturneys of a suffering people in search of God. The destiny of tlie Tuyi-Guarani peoples, like the destiny of the Jews thernsetves, is tzniversalized by the Christian message and brcrught down to earth by liberation theology, To y u o e eagin from the preface to tlze mass, the land without evil is a "utopia constructed by the struggle of the oppressed; the liberated land of all men" "(1980:23). The symbolic appropriation of the nativcl American experience, its translation into the language both of traditional and contemporary Christianity, culminates in the final lines of the mass: America Amerindia, ai~zdana Paixao: u m dia tua Morte ter6 Kesurreiq2o

Arnerinclian Amertr.4 Still livitzg your <>uciiJixion, One dc~jfycturUlrot-h 1.Yill end in Resut-relion

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0 s Pr~bresdesra Terra cluerernos inventirx essa Terra-sem-mates qtre vem cada manl~a.

We9tize Vnor of tlak World, Struggle to creag 2'he Lcknd-wilPzoikt-eva'l That Jawtzs with mcl~new hl(1y -[Casatddliga et al. 1980:67]

The Missionary as Convert AquiEo qtde mais gflige (I missiondriu L perceber-otd

ferner-qtde sua miss40

aci~bouou que ela nao d perti~erlfe. -Luiz Fefipe Biteta Neves, O Combate &S Soldadss de Grist0 rza Term &S Pnpagaios2"

The incorporation of Tupi-Guarani elements into the rhetoric of liberation theology>while part of a general pattern of missionary attempts at cultural translation, at the same time represents a significant departure frtrm usual missionary practice, In mast cases, the agyrctpriation of indigenous cultural elements is done with tlze primary purpose of reaching the natives, converting the missionized. In this instance, however, the true audience seems to be the missionary community itself'.While one might make the general point tfia~issionarleshave, thrctughout history, been talking more to themselves anci less to their culturally foreign audiences than they have realized, W see here a discourse that is particularly and, indeed, explicitly sef F-directed, Progl-essive missionaries are engaged in what miglzt be calleci a revitalization mt)vement,B They are attemytil-rgto renew and redefine their vocation so that it can continue to be meaningful and justific-tbfe in a postcofonial context. Their task is to convince themselves that tl-tey can completely transform their refationslziy to native peoples, and mrrve b e p n d the dialectic of power and subordination. W i l e it may be said that progressive missionaries are seeking their own way of exercising control over Brazil" native popul"ions, they are, at the same time, serving as crucial political allies in the indianskngoing struggle for survival and autonomy, Their reiationshly tcr native peoples, moreover, no longer revolves around the goals of: proselytizing and conversion-acttvilief that have, after all, been the defining features of missionization throughout its history; The outside observer may wll ask what it can mean to be a missionary if one" vocation is not centered around convertit~gatlzers to one's own hith. The answer lies in looking at where current missionary efforts are directed. In brief, the pressing ccrncern of today's radical missionaries is less the conversiczn of the Indians than the canwrsion of the Catholic Churcl~,

Acktzawleclgmenls, Earlier versions o f this paper were presented at a syrnposittrn on "Translations of Christianify,'%merican Anthropologicai Association meetings, Decem-

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her l982, Washingtorz, D.C. and at the symposium "When the Saints Go Marching 1x1: Past and Present Encouilters with Christianity," Axnerican Ethnological Society meetings, May 1985, Toronto. I am grateful to Waud Kracke, Carol MacCormack, and Samuel Lachs for their heiyk~fstr~estions.

Notes I. Those wllo first encorxntered the Tupi called them " q e o p l e without faith"";In recent years, the Guaratli have been described as "the tlleologians of South America". Between these contrary judgments, four centuries of history, . . . (Clastres 1975:7).This and ail subseqrrmt translations from the French and f"r>~-tuy;uese are m y owtl, 2, The missionary even used the Indian lar~g~xage in prayer, Even used the songs of the India~l,Even used India11da~lcesi11prayer. But it was the while marz3 yrrtyer. If was not the XndkznS prgij~e~ The textbook was 13repmed for t l ~ eTapirape Xndiaxls of Mato Grosso, who contributed illustrations. 3. This Tupian version of the credo colxes from Yves d'Er,rreux (1864:27f-277), who also offers transcriptions of other translated texts, i~zcltxdingthe Lord's Prayer, the Prayer to tlle Virgin, the ten commandments, and the list of srzcraxnents. 4, Regiorzat rxames fbr the variotrs grcjuys referred to here as Tupinambh i~zciudethe POtig~ara,CaetC, 'lirpiniquim, Tamoyo, and Tupina (see MCtraux 11 363ai 19451/:95-97); the Guarani incfrrde grou ys locally referred to as Arechane, Itatin, Tag&Tabatin, GrrarambarC, and Taioha (Mktraux t963b[1945]:70). The m;l,ior sotlrces of information on the T'upiGuaratli are trawlerk accourlts ancl xnissiollary writings. Mast of the early information is o a the Brazilian groups; less is known about those of Paraguay, Foremost arnong the early chroniclers are h d r C Thevet, cos~zlograyherto the King of France, whose travels through Krazit In 1540 and 1554 were recorded in his Cosmngrt~plzietTniverselle; Jean de LCry, a French Huguenot wllo journeyed to 13razil in 1555; and Yves d"Evreux, wl~osetravels in rxortherxr Brazil took place between 1613 and 1514, A unique and particularty valuable document is the memoir written by Hans Stadea, a German who was captured by the Tt~piinambhin 1545 and escaped after spending several months with them as a prisorzer of war. The most impol-tarlt missionay documents include the letters and other writings of Manuet Wobrega, first Jesuit provincial of Brazil; CXaude dxbbeville, who wrote a history of the Caguclzin rnission in nr>rthern Brazil; and Antonio Ruiz dc Montoya, the rnost prominerzt Jesuit xnissionary to the GuaranI, The best known anthropological studies of t l ~ eTk~pi-Guarani,based orz these and other early docrrments, are the various writitzgs of the French ethnologist AlGed MCtraux and the Brazilian sociologistianthropoiogist Flarestarz Fernandes, I have drawn especliizlIy on Mktrarxx" description of Tt~pinambhreligion (MCtraux 1928) i11the account presented here. Most relevant to the specific theme of this paper is Heiene Clastres' (1975) strrciy of Tupi-Guarani beliefs in an earthly paradise, or land without evil, A good general ovewiew of Tupi-Guaraai studies, with a particular focus on cosmology, can be found inviveirc~sde Castm (19884,chapter 11). 5, The source for this and other Jesuit documents cited here is Leite's three-volume collection, which was published between 1954 and 1958. References begin with the voluxne rxtrxnber, f$ir>l!o~red by hvo rxlxmbers ide~ltifyingthe document and the refevant section, 6. For informatiolz on Tupinal-xlba myths about the destruction of the world, first fby fire and then by flood, see MCtraux (1 928:4&47), Nohrega remarb rxpon their knowiedge of the story of Noah and the flood, thauglz he notes that they have only a false understa~ldIng of it (Leite I P,?),

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7, Mktraux, who devoted considerabie attention to this figure in Tupi-Guarani mythoiogy-referring to him alternately as a culture hero, civitizer, transhrmer, and man-godargrred that it worxid he an error to see in the variety of nalnes a variety of persorzages; Maira, Maira-Monan, and SumC should instead be seen as variotrs names for the same rnythic character, The commorz missonary view that these were different persons was due not only to the confinsion over names, but also to an attempt to separate what were seen as the good and evil aspects of the Tupian hero" character, and thus to replace an ambiguous and problematic figure with ones that could serve the ptlrposes of moral contrast (see MCtraux 1928:7-30). 8. For a brief acct~untof the Jesuit mksiosls in Parag~ay,see MCrraux f 1963ht 1945]:77-80). "3 See, for example, BaCta Meves ( 1978) and Leite XI1 (6 1-63). 10, Ethnoiogisrs differ about the importance of Tr1p2 in T~lpi-Guaranicosmolog. Mktraux sees Tup8 as a yeripherat figure to whom the xnissionaries accorded a significance totaIly orxt of proportion to his actual place in Indigenous beIief f Mktraux 1928:52-56). CLastres, hc)wever, takes issue with this view and sees native betiefs about Tupa as being tied to notiom corzcerning the destruction of the world, and hence to the prophetic tradition that ties at the core of Tupi-Guarasli religion f 1975:19-20,33-37). EthnrIgraphic accounts of conte~nyoraryTtlpi-G~ara~li peoldes show variation in the importance accorded to Tkpii. Among the b w a h i v , for example, Tup2 has been described as being of relatively mintlr importance (Kracke 1984:8). On the other hand, among the Tapiraye, one of the rnajsr events of the traditiorzal ceremorzial caiendar was a battle between Thrrnder and the community" snost powerful sllamans, w l ~ oexzgaged in momentous ritual battles against Ilirn at the height of the rainy seiisorz. One of the last of these ceremonies was viewed by Charles Wagley in 11940; the Thunder rituals ceased with the demise of shamaslism. The Tal2irapk term for tllunder is Kanawana, hut they also have a term, toj>u,cognate with Y i i ~ ~which a, refers to bnawana" spirit helpas (see Wa@ey 1977:199-21 1). 11. When one shaman was able to give Yves d"Evreux a surprisingly accurate account of certaisl events that were ~ccurringin France, the chrt:,nicler was pm~nptedtc:, discourse at suxne Length and in considerable technical detail on the Devil's ability to snove rapidly from one iocation to another (d"Evreux X864:295ff.). 12. See M&raux (1927) for an overview of the various migrations known from the historical record. The ma,ior source of ethnograpl-rici~zformationon how the jorrrneys were carried out and h ~ w the particiyaslts conducted thesnselves cornes from Curt Nimuenddju's study of the travels undertaken by the Apapokrrva and tlzeir neighhors, which began around 1820 and ended shortly before Nirnuendaj115 visit is1 1912 ( N i ~ n ~ ~ e n d19 a j14). r~ A detailed discussion and analysis of the migxiltiolls can also be found in Ctastres ( 11975:65-103). 13. See Clastres (19"7:10&112) for a discussiors of the Mbya notion of kundire, which designates the process of beccrmi~zgitnmortal while remaining alive, and refers particrxiarfy to the ability of a Living person to arrive at the land without evil, 14. For a general discrrssion of Tupi-Grxarani shamans, see Mktrarxx f 1"328:78-931, and CLastres (1975:4044). These sources include specific information on shamanic discourses concerning the iand without evil. Pjobrega f f 9,3) describes a feast in which a sl~amanuses gourd rattles as the source for his messages about the land without evil, 15. A detailed and comprehensive accourlt of cl~angesin the 13razilian Church%social policies and political role can be found in Bruneau ( 1 974, 11982). 16. See de Kadr (19700)for a study of Catholic radicalisxn in 13razil that ftlcuses 0x1 MEU and the variorrs branches of Catholic Action, The Cht~rcll'srole in the Northeast develop-

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rnent program {Superintendencia d a Desenvc>lvimentodo Nordeste, or SUDENE) is noted in Bruneau (1974:78), 17, A chronology of the founding of CIIMI, and its significant activities, is given In Ricardo (1979). See also the account presented by AntBnio Carlos Moura in Salem. f 3 98 1378-85). 18. The emergellce of the CPT is described by Mottra in Salem (1381:85-91). A brief description of the structure and organization of the Pastoral Qperhxia can be found In Salem ( l38 1: 129). Rruneat~( 1974:107-109) chronicles the history of the CNBN and anaiyzes the role it has colxe to play in Brazilian politics. For information on Christian base comrn~~nities in Brazil, see Barreiro 1977; Souza Netto 1979:17-29; Salern 1981:1-45-3172; 13runeatt 1982, chap. 8; Xreiand 1983; Rruneau 1983, 1% See Rrunearr (1974: 107) and Saiern f 1981:39,68,70) for Information on the spectrum of political opiniall represer~teclwithin the Brazilian episcopal cornrnunity, and far observations on the influence exercised by the ""pogressives.'" 20. A partic~~tarly good source for information on CIMI's redefinition of missicinization is a special issue of the Bsletiutt do CIXM1, entitled "Evangelizcu;&oe Munda Xrrdigena,'" wllich appeared in September of l977 and includes a programmatic statement by Carlos Mesters, See Shapiro (1981) far a discussion of postcolonial ideologies of missionary practice and a more detailed analysis of CIMI3 views on evailgelelization, See also Shapiro (11.4.) for an ethnographic study of progressive xnissionaxy practice, which includes two case studies of missiom in Central Brazil. 21. To give a fuller and fairer account of this situation, other factors must be noted as well. For one thing, from the missionary point of view, studying another crrlture and another l a ~ l p a g eii~volvesa kind of suhjectlohject relationship that many missionaries find rnoralty objectionable. They have a critique of the anthropologist's role In rxative society just as the anthropologist has a critique of the missionaiy's role. Moreover, anthrapologists and xnissionaries alike currelltly operate in a situatioll of chronic emergerlcy, where much of their effort must go into being of whatever use they can be in the crises that tribal grou ps are constantly facing. 22. Thais unpublished document, issued in 1971, was entitled ""Uma igreja &a Amaziinia ern collllito caxn o l a t i ~ n d i oe a marginatizae3o social" (An Arnazoiliatl Cl1tzrcl.r in Conflict with Latihndia and Social Marginalization). See also Casafddliga f 3978 (1977]), a narrative of the bisllop? political and evangelical activities and his theologicai concerns, organized aro~xndthe form of a diary, with occasional poems and excerpts from his previous polemical writings. 23. What pains a missiox~ary most is to perceive-or to fear-that his mission is over, or that it has no retevailce" "(IfaetaNeves 1978:26). 24, I take this klicitous term fmix FVallace (1956), withorzt adapting the ysychobiologicai Eunctionafism that provides 16s theoretical framework.

References KaCta Neves, Luiz Felipe 1978 Q Combate dos Soldados de Crista rxa Terra dos Papagaios, ColoniaIisrno e Repress20 Cultural. Rio de Janeiro: Forellse UniversitAria. Karreiro, Alvaro S. f. 1977 Cornunidades klesias de Rase e EvangelizaqPo dos Pr~bres. Edigbes Loyola, Silo Paolo, Basic Ecclesial Communities, The Eva~lgeIizationof the Poor. Rarbara Campbelt, transI, Maryknoil, New York: Orbis Books. 1982,

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Bruneasr, Thomas C. 19774 The Political Transformation of the Brazilian Cathoiic Churcl~. Cambridge: Cambridge Uniwrsity Press. 1982The Church in BraziI: The 13c>li-fics of Religion.A~~stin: University of Tmas Press, 1983The Catholic Church and the Basic Clzrktian Gxnrnunities:Case Smdy kcm~the BraziIian Amaran, Center for DeveIopit-rg-Area Stttdies, no, 7. Quebec: McGill Universiv Press. CasaldAlIig&,D, Pedm 1W8[29773 Creio r?ta frrstiqa e na Esperanqa. Civilizac;Bo Rrasileira. Rio De Janeirt~.(Original: 1Jo creo en Ia Justiciay en la Espera~lza). CasaIdAliga, D. Pedro, Pedm Tierra, Martin Coplas, and Cldudia Andujar 1980 Missa da Terra senl Mates. Tempo e Yresellqa Editora. Rio de Janeiro. Clastres, WCtene 1975 La Terre sans Mai, ie yroyhCtisrne Tupi-Guaxani. Editions du Seuil. Paris, (Portugrxese translation: Terra sem Mal. Mitora Rrasiliense. SHo Paoto, 1978.) de Kadt, Etxmanuel 1970 Catholic Eladicals in Brazil. London: Oxford University Press. Della Gava, IialIp1-r 1986 A Igreja e a Abertura, 1974-1985. In A Xgreja nas Bases em Tempo dc TransicPo 197k11985. l'? Krisshke and S. Mainwaring, ed, pp, 3-45. Porto Ategre: L,&P.M,-CEDEC. dzvreux, Yves 1864 Vi~yagedam le Nord drt Brksii, fait d ~ ~ r ales a t Annkes 1613 et 1614. Ferdinalld Denis, ed. Leipzig: A, Franck, Ireland, Rowan 11383 Catholic Base Communities, Spiritist Groups, and the Deepening Democracy in 13razil. Payer presented to the Latin American Program colloquiuxn of the Wooclro5v Wilson Internatior~alCenter for Scholars. Kracke, Waud 1984 Ivlzgahnga, Mbahira7nng;te Anhang-Gente do Ceu, Gente &S Pedras e Detnos da Mata: Espa~oCosmol6gico e Drralidade r?ta Cosmol6gia Kawahiv. Paper presellted in a symposisim on Tupi Cosmc~logyat the Brazilian AnthrtIpologicaI Association meetings. Leite, Serafirn S. I. 1%5.4--58Cartas dos Yrimeirt~sJesuitasdo Brasil. 3 vols. Corniss2o do IV CentexiA de SBo Paoto, SBo PaoXo, Mbtraux, Alfred 1927 Migrations Historiques des Tupi-Guara~li.Journal de la SocikC dcs AmCricanistes (MS) 19:1-45, 1928 La Religion des Tupinamha, et ses rapl~ortsavec celle des autres tribus TupiGuarani, BibXiothPque de I%coXe des Wautes Etudes, Sciences IXetigieuses,Vol. 45. Paris: Ernest Lerorxx. 11363a119451 The Ts~pinamba.Ira Handbook of South Arnerisan Indians, Vid. 111, The Trc>~?ical Forest Tribes. Jlrtian Stetvard, ed. pp. 95-133. Burea~rof Atnerican Ethnoloby, BuLLetin 143. Smithsi~nianInstitution, New Xjt)rkCooper Square Publishers. In Handbook of South Americaxi Indians, Vol. 111, The l(363bjf 945) The 6~1;zxani. Tropical Forest Tribes. fulian Steward, ed. pp, 69-94, Bs~reauof America11 EthnoLoa, 13uiuitetin 143. Smitbsoniatl Institution, New York: Cooper Scluare 13ublishers. Nirnlxendaju, Curt 1914 Die Sagert vim der Erschaffung und 'Ver~~Ichtrxng der Weit als Grrandla~xider lteligio~ldes Apapoc6va-Guaxaxii. Zeitschri&for EtXlnoIogie, Vol. 46. Bertin, Kicardo, Faally 11379 O Conselho Indigenista Missicinirio (CIMI), Cronologia das transfar~naqbesrecentes da Pastorai Xndigenista CatSlica no Brazil 1965-79. Cadernos do IfER (E~lstitrttoSuperior de Estudos de Religigo), no, 10. Rio de Janeirt~. Salern, Welena, ed, 1981 A lgreja dos Oprirnidos. Cole@o 13rasit Woje, no, 3. Editora 13rasil Debates. SI-tapiro,Jr-tdirh 1981 Ideologies of Catholic Missiollary Practice in a Post-Colonial Era. Comparative Studies in Society and History 23( f ): 130-1 49.

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r3.d. Missiorxary Radicalism on the Brazilian Frontier. Amazorzia Peruana, Unprrbiished ms. Souza Netto, Francisco Kenjamin de 1979 Tendencias atuais do catolicismo no Krasil, Cadernos do ISER (Institute Superior de Esttrdos da RetigiBo), no. 12. Elio de Janeiro. Thevet, Andrt: 1575 Gosmographie Universeile. 2 vtjls. Paris: Guilfat~xneChat~diere, "Jiwirt~s,de Castro, Eduardo Batatha 11 384 ArawetC: Uma VisBo da Cosmologia c da Pessoa Tuli-Guarani, Doctoral thesis. trniversidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro, Mrrseu Nacioaat. Wagley, Charles 19777lieEcorne of Tears, The Tapiray6 Indians of Central 13razil. New York: &ford liniversiv Press. VVailace, A. F. C. 1956 Revitalization Movements. American Anthropologist 58:26&28 l.

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Shamanism and Christianity Modern-Day Tlingit Elders Look at the Past

Shamanism, a b y element of the precontact Ttingit culture, was seen by Christian missionaries as one of the w r s t manifestations of paganism. A relentless campaign waged against the shamans by the missionaries, with the help of- military and civil autlzorittes, succeeded: by the final decades of the nineteenth century, the Tlingit had converted to Christianity, and by the 1930s most of the shamans had disappeared. X n their effort to reconcile Christianity and the ""traditional cufture:hmodern-day Tlingit elders ccrnstruct various interpretaticrns of shamanism. The article examines these accounts as it~digenouslzistory and as ideological statements that challenge the notion of the inferiority trf the aboriginal Tlingit refi@ionto Clzristianity, -Author"sAbstruct

Fogelson (1974: 106) criticized American ethnohistorians for not paying enough attention to ""the native interpretations af critical events and significant historicaf personages.'%e ccrntrasted our own Western notion of ""objective" "&ettt.lnohistrory""with that of indigenous history, which he called ""efhno-ethnohistory7' (ibid.). Even tlzough few ethnohistorians today wotzld quarrel with Fagefs~n'sp~rsition,studies that focus on the Native North Americansbm views and interpretations of the past remain rare, with much of our researcl1 still concerned exclusivefy with "what really. happeneci." h the last few years, h o w e ~ rseveral , i n n o v a t i ~works on specific North American Indian modes of historical consciorrsness have finally appeared, notably Harkin's (1988a) elegant analysis of Heiltsuk narratives of their ancestors' first encounter

A L M O S T TWO D E C A D E S A G O

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with the Europeans and Brightman" (1990) fascinating paper on the Manitoba Crree traditions of tlze primitive anthmyomorphic ""races" &chronologically more ancient and culturally less ccrmplex than ccrntempcrrary Cree themselves. Studies Iilce these show a highly developed sense of historicai consciousness (cf. Fogelson 1989: 139-40) and a serious effort to rethink the past in light of more recent experiences. They also demonstrate that the past can be tzsed to make sense of the present, to justi* and ctxptain the current predicament of the indigenous people of Nortl-t America,' Finally; they reveal tl-tat this changing historical discourse has developed in the context of a dialogue with Euro-American ideologies. In fact the ""dalogical" nature of many of the postcontact Native American oral traditions makes them particularly camylex and it~terestingfor ethnohistorians (cf. Harkin 1988a: 102; see also Harkn 1988b). They are, after all, attempts by the colonized people to defend their past against various efforts by Euro-Americans to impose their own, often critical, interpretations on Indian history. To complicate matters even furthe&some of the key elements of Western idecrlogy, such as Christianity, have been accepted by many Native Americans, so that they now often use Christian concepts to reinterpret their own past. However; while accepting Christianity, they often reject the standard missionary view of traditional Indian religions as ""yimitive" and ""ppn.'" In this article I examine one attempt by the elders in a modern-day Native American society to rethit~kits pre-Christian religion by affirming its validity while acknowledging the greater wisdom and pcrwer of Christianity. In the course of my intermittent work with informants from Sitka, Angc~on,Kake, and a number of other mostly northern Tlingit cammunities from 1979 to 1987, X collected several narratixs and heard many statements about the nineteenth-century shamans and their responses to ChristianityeThese comments ranged from occasional negative clzaracterizatians of shamans as ""witclz doctors" to some very strong endorsements of these religious practitioners as healers, wise men, and propllets, Many comments fell betrtveen tile twcr extremes and exhibited some ambiguous feelings about an aspect. of indigenous Tlingit culture that once drew heavy fire from missionaries and other zealr>us agents of Westernization. In 1979-8(3, when X first heard these stories, I did not pay much attention to them, dismissing them as a recent invention, a rlzetorical ""use of the past" h r ideological purpcrses by elderly Christian Tlingit. A more careful look at this ethnographic material has shown that this case is more complex. First, some of the narratives about tlze slzamans predicting the coming crf the Europeans and a new and more p<>werfulreligion appear to be not recent but rather old, Second, underlying some of these narratives is the historical Fact that in the early contact. period shamans were curious about the newcomers2syiritual pcrwer and were beginning to use Christian paraphernalia and ritual acts, In other words, as in much of the rest of North America (cf. Spier 1935; Suttles 1957), incorporation of Christian ritual acts ancl objects into indigenous ceremonial activities o&en preceded intense firsthand contacts with Europeans and conversion to Christianity. FinaiXy, these stories were not simply created for non-

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native consumptlan but played (and continue to play) an important rofe in my elderly inhrmantskwn worldview At the same time, they are being passed on to subsequent generations of TLingit as agreed-tzyon tribal histrlry and will undoubtedly become that in the future. Thus, contemporary Tlingit narratives and comments about shamans are valuable sources of two kinds of information: the more factual history of the nineteenth-century shamans\esyonse to Christianity and the continuously changing native view of these religious practidoners. Ninett3mt.h-Centur)l Tjin@tShamanism

Nineteenth-century TIingit shamanism, as we t~nderstandit from the existing historical and ethnographic sorzrces, was a classical circumpolar type. The centrality of shamanism in Tlingit culture was first pclinted out by Swanton (1908: 4-63),who w r ~ e"It , wctuld appear that, taking the people of the north Pacific coast as a whole, sl~amantsmreached its climax among tlze "flingit." The shaman (fgr" was the key intermediary between humans and other-than-human persons and powers of the wctrid, We cured the sick, controlled the weather, brought success in war ancl in fislzing ancl lzunting, foretold tlze future, communicated with other shamans at a distance, received n e w aborzt faraway people and ptaces, found and brought back to their families those who were lost or captured by the anthropomorphic XancZ otter people (sing. kcioshdua kda), revealed and neutralized the evil actions of witches, and made public demonstrations of his2 power in various awe-inspiring ways. The shaman coufd do all these things because he was inspired by and controtled one or, more often, several acquired or inherited superhuman spirits (sing. ykz'k), Each of these spirits had a personal name, a special song, and associated regalia. During his initial solitary quest ftor power and tlzrougl-touthis life, tlze slzaman lzad to observe a strict regimen of prolonged Pasting, thirsting, purging, and sexual abstinence and w s forbidden to cut or comb his hair. Every Ittcafized clan had at least one x"gt",o tlzat larger villages composed of several clans usually had several resident shamans.%

Ci~ristianityand the Tlingit4 The first Tlingit encounter with Christianity occurred in St tka in the mid- 1830s when Fr. Ivan Veniaminov began his prosefytiizing work in the native community bordering on Novo-Arkl~angel'sk,a fort established in 1804 as the capital of Russian America. At that time refations betwen the WC)settlements were rather strained, with the Russians rarely venturing outside their palisade, In fact, Veniaminov cauld begin visititlg tlze native lzomes only after a devastating smallpox epidemic of 1837-38 kiHed off many etders and shamans, upholders of traditional religion. The epidemic somewhat undermined the natives9rust in their own lzealers and demonstrated to them the power of the Russians, who seemecl invincible to the new and terri$ing disease. Gradually?some of the Tlingit began accepting baptism along with vaccinatian, The first conwrts included some Tlin-

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@itwomen married to ltussian men as w l l as a few natiw clan leaders courted by the R~~ssian-American Company and attracted by the splendor of the Orthodox ritual and the possibility of establishing ties with the high-ranking company officials who acted as their godfathers. From the 1840s to the 1860s tlze Ortlzodox church continued its missionizing efhrts in southeastern Alaska, fcrcusing mainly on Sitka but also making occasionat visits to the surrounding northern villages and to the Stikine area in the south (Tifimenev 1978; Veniaminov 1984 j 18401; Ean 1985,1988,1930b, forthcoming). By 1867, when Russia sold Alaska tcr the United States, the Orthodox church claimed over four hundred Tlingit clcrnverts, This might seem to be an impressive figure, but in pact even in Sitka the baptizeci natives did not constitute the majority. Mc->rec>ver, the existing records suggest that most of these converts had only a vague tznderstanding of O r t b ~ d c r qattended ~ services infrequently, and often failed to cttnkss or receive communion. Few church marriages or burials took place; most Tlingit continkled to cremate their dead, While for a few TZingit Christianity might have already become a significant part of their worfdview, most converts, in my opinion, saw it simply as an additionat source of spiritual power and material benefit. Thus, some of them began adding prayers addressed to the Russian "Great Spirit" ta the traditional magical formtzlas when seeking success in hunting, fishing, or trade (Kan 1985: f 98). Of course, one of the major obstacles to TIingit Christianization was the timited contact they had with the Russians, even in Sitka, not tcr mention other communities. In order trr keep the natives out of Nczvo-Arkhanget'sic> the Russians built a separate church for them on tlze border of tlze two communities, with the Indians having to enter it from their vitlage and the clergy from inside the trlwn. Most importantly>as long as the Tlingit remained pot&icafly independent from tlze Europeans, mast of them saw no need to embrace Russian ways as thoroughly as, for example, the Aleuts, whcrm the Tlingit saw as subservient to the Russians (Veniaminov 1984 [ 18401: 434). The situation changed significantly after the American arrival in 1867 and especially after the establishment of a Presbyterian mission in 1878. The Americans bruuglzt numerous trade items of higher quality and jobs in mining, canneries, and lumbering, which many Tlingit were eager to perform to earn money. Mtzcl~ of this new wealth was channeled into the traditional system of pcrttatching, but some of the younger "nouveaux riches" "began accumulating wafth for their own and their nuclear families?use. A more serious blow to tlze traditional social order was American political dcrminaticrn, which resulted in encroachment on native subsistence resources and interference in their internal affairs. A few attempts at resistance resulted in a show of force by the American men-of-war patrolling the coast, making stzbmission to the newcomers>ower and authority inevitable (HinckIey f 972; Kan 1985). Backed by tlze military and civil autlzorities, Presbyterians attackd such key aspects of the indigenous culture as ccrmmtznal living in large winter houses, matrilineal descent and inheritance, slavery, blood revenge, accusatitzns of witch-

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craft, and, of course, shamanism. The Presbyterians atso relied on American military might to enforce scl~oolattendance among tlze young in Sitka and several other Tlingit ccrmmtznities, Initially, many native parents were interested in having their children Xearn the w q s of the powerful newcomers (especially reading and writing), bat they did not want the youngsters to turn their backs on the traditional values and practices attacked by the zealous American reft~rmers, The price paid by these Tlingit children for acquiring the new knodedge was high. In the Presbyterian boarrding scllool in Sitka, the center of Protestant eclucation, the use of the native language was forbidden, while the students were indoctrinated in American Protestant values and presented with a bleak picture of tlzeir ow11 parentsf wdy of: life. Most schoolchildit-en, even those already b a p t t ~ d in the Orthodox chtzrch, were pressured ttr become Presbyterians. The schtrol graduates were encouraged to intermarry, disregarding the fundamental law of moiety excrgarny, and set up nuciear family households in ""llstcdn-style" attages built near the mission, away from the "evil intituene-e" of their heathen kin. Some of these men and wijmen, who formed the core of the IJresbyterian Church of Sitka (officially estabilshed in ItSSSLii.), thoroughly internaiized these exogenous beliefs and attitudes, while others seemed to vacillate between the two cultures, taking part in yirttatches one day and ct>nfessingthe next (recc~rdsof the First Presbyterian Church of Sirka, Billman Colfecdon). The heav-handed tactics of the Presbyterian missionaries discatlraged many older natives from joining their church. In fact, by the late 1880s, Tlingit membership in the Presbyterian Church of Sitka had begun to decline, t>urit~gthe same period, the Russian Orthodox church, which remained in Alaska after 1867, revitalized its missionary eftarts and managed tcr attract most of the more cmservative TIlngit in Sitka as well as a significant portion of the Indian population of: Killisnoo ancl neiglzboring Angoen, Hoonah, ancl Juneau. By the 1910s all of the Tlingit villages had been Christianized by the Presbperian and the ltussian Orthodox missions, The sudden success of Orthodoxy (see Kan f 985, 1987, 1988, forthcoming) owed mucl1 to the over~ealousnessof the Presbyterians. At the same time, Orthodc>v>at least in Sitka and Juneau, seemed to appeal tcr the more conservative segment of the native population, which was less wilting trt abandon such key aspects of the traditional culttrre as the solidarity of:clan relatives and potlatching.li m i l e both churches attacked the ""old custc)ms,'" the Presbyterians were much more thorough in their efforts to ""civilize" the Indians and had much greater control over their parishioners than the unders~affedOrthodox church. In addition, Orthc>dt~x Christianity, with its emphasis on ritual and the use of sacred objects, was much more susceptibfe to native reinterpretation and tndigenization than the more cerebral Presbyterianism. Finally, the Russian church's greater tzse trf the native language also attracted the more ccrnservative Tlingit. In the first half of this cerrtury a number of otl~erdenominations, including tlze Salvation Army and several fundamentalist ancl cl~arismaticchurches, gained their trwn converts among the Tlingit. For almost a century now, Christianity has been an important part of Tlingit culture, providing new sources of spiritual

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power and emoticznal well-being as wll as new social institutions for strenghening intravillage solidarity, It lzas also become a source of new rhetoric for describing and evaluating traditional culture as weff as ccrntemporary life, The degree of commitment of individual Tlingit to Christian principles varies significantly, from the die-hard Presbyterians who reject most of:the ""old custams'"e.g., refuse to take part in ycrttatches) to those elderly Orthc>dc>xchurch members who have managed rather successfufly to syncretize Christian and indigenous beliefs and pradices, especiatly in mortuary rituals (see Kan 1987, 1989a).7 Prior to the tolerant era of the 1960s, the Ttingit had to hide their traditional practices from the clergy and other whites and to be defensive when trying to explain the "old customs" to non-Tlingtt. Thus, while the potlatch was never outlawed in Alaska, as it had been in Canada, missionaries and civil authclrities frequently interfered with this ""hathen ceremony'hnd chastised the TLingit repeatedly for being "wasteful" m d "old-fashioned," Having always been very sensitive to public criticism and wanting very much to be accepted as equals by the dominant society, the Tlingit have tried hard to justify their pre-Christian beliefs and ceremonies, downplaying their ""religious" nature and emphasizing their social fttncttons and their important role in maintaini~lgTIingit identity (Kan 1989a). Many devout n a t i peoylte ~ have also felt the need to reconcile Christianity and the "old customs3' in their own minds to avoid cognitive disstjnance. fn the last few decades, the nonnative clergy has eased its acculturative pressure considerably, professing to tolerate indigenous customs as long as they do not directly contradict Chrisdan teachings. T o d q Tlingit eiders feel mare free to discuss the old ways with their children and grancichildlren as well as with nonnatives. Nevertheless, many of them ccrntinue ttr wcrrry about the contradictions betwen Christian and pre-Christian beliefs and practices, Those elders nowadays formally referred to as ""tradition-bearers"" are currently constructing their own version of the ""old customs'' and passing it on to yorznger generations through ""Xdian education" "asses and various public occasions f Kan 1989a, 1990a). A number of tl-tese elders have become my it~formants,teaclzers, and friends since 1417% In our conversations, shamanism was often mentioned, since it has been one of the key aspects of the nineteent31-century Tlingit culture that tlzey, in their effort to reconcile the two cultural and religious traditions, lzave had particular difficulty with.

Missionary Attitudes towards Shamanism To appreciate tlzis difficulty, we have to look at tl-te missionaries?ow1-t view of:and struggle against the ixt: whom the Orthodc3x and the Protestant clergymen alike regarded as an archenemy. To begin with, they ccrrrectly identified the shaman as the main religious figure in TXingit sociev and the onfy full-dme practitioner who enjoyed great a~~tllority and respect. in his community (Veniaminov 1984 [lK4Q]: $OC1,435). In fact, some missionaries of both churches characterized the entire Thngit religion as ""s~amanism"and placed it Iow on the evotutionary lad-

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der (Mamenskii 1985 [ f 9061: 8X-91; Kan 1990b). Thus, for example, a Presbyterian mit-tister who served in southeastern Alaska it-t the late nineteenth and the early twentieth centuries wrote that ""the ikt [sic] was superstitiously regarded as an all-powrfuixi being. His wctrd was absotute, and he was revered as a god" "ones 1914: f58), Bad feelings between tlze missionaries and the shamans were mutual. The latter saw their pc~sitionin Tlingit society threatened by the priests and ministers and often discouraged their reladves and neighbors from attending church services, Appalled by the shaman's appearance, lzis use of various material objects ("idools,""""fetishes"")and especially the dramatic trance he entered in order to do his job, missionaries often referred to him as ""servant of Satan" m d saw him as an epitome of ignorant heathenism. Wlzife some of tl-te missionaries adznitted being impressed with a certain strange psychic pclwer pc~ssessedby the ixt', many betieved him to be a fraud and his healing to be quackery, aimed at enriching him at the expense of his gullibie patients (WiiIard 1884;V;r,rrng1922 146). In fact, the clergy correctly identified native trust in the slzamans as an obstacle in winning them twer to Western biornedicine.VFinatly, missionaries blamed the shamans for the persistence of beliefs in witchcrafi and for the persecution of alleged witches, which not only cantinueci after the American arrival but may even have intensiffed during that era of accelerated sociaf change. American e h r t s to free those accused of witchcraft were the main context in which slzamans and missionaries confronted eacl-t other and it-t wl~ichtlze latter tzsed force, In addition to preaching constantly against shamanism and witchcraft, Presbyterian missionaries, backed by the navy, the army, and the Alaskan civil authorities, tried to expel the most notorious shamans from tlzeir cammunities and even to arrest them (see, for example, Wyatt 1989: 6 8 4 9 ) ,Among the shamans' secular enemies, one man, Ccjmmander Henry Glass of the U.S. Navy, gained special admiration among the Presbyterian missionaries, Accordit-tg to one Russian priest who labsred in Sitlta in the 1890s, hunting shamans was his favcjrite pastime and sport. A captt~redshaman was uswally invited aboard his boat and received with honor. Glass wuld talk to him in a friendly manner, incjl~iringabout his life, the number of his yiik [spirits], the extent of their strength and power, etc. Then he would annourlce that he was also a sharnan who o>wnedy4ik and sugested that they compete against each other. Uyorz his order, a charged electric battery was brought out. The shaman was asked to hold the wires in his hands, whiIe the two poles were being mnnected. The sharnads body wotlld begin to twist. His own peopfe, witnessing his strange and ~ I S I S Iposes ~ and hearing his screams and moans, became kightened, The shaman I~irnselfIear~feda practical lesson about the power of his white cofteagfe, But the captain did not stop at that. Sl~asnans always left his boat with their heads shaved and covered with oil paint, and having 11985 j 19061: 85-86; cf. prosnised not to practice shamailism anymore. (Ka~l~enskii GIass 1890)

Mrlziie this ltussian missionary fotrnd Glass's m h f t d s somewhat excessive, he himself demanded that members of the Archangel Michael Society of Mutual Aid,

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which he established among the Sitka Tlingit in 1896, ""no longer believe in slzamanistic spirits" "amenskii 1985 j 19061: 111).

The Sharnansqate in the PostcontatTt Era Wl~ateffects did this anti-shamanistic propaganda and these activities have on the shamans? Initially, they resisted missionary pressure, waging their crwn andCl-tristtan campaign ancl tater trying to hide from tlzeir enemies and conduct their activities tznderground. Thus, shamans disappeared from Sitki by 1900 or 1910 but continued to practice in mare isolated, smaller communities, like An1500x1 and Kltlkwaan, until at least the 1 9 3 0 The ~ ~ Sitka ancl Juneau Tlingtt occasionally went tcr these vi1fage"to seek hetp, and, according to my informants, as late as the 1950s there were still some individuals in conservative communities who, wl-tiie not fu'ull-Aedgedshamans, were reputed to be fortune-tellers and spiritual healers, At the same time, rather early in their contact with missionaries, TLingit shamans began taking advantage of the new sources of power tntroduwd by the Russians and Americans. References to the slzamans' use of crosses ancl other sacred objects from Cl~ristianworship, as well as instances of their imitation of church services, can be found in severat ethnographic accounts (e.g., Emmons 1945; Oberg 1973: 19) and were confirmecl by my own informants (see below).g As earty as the 1830s or 184Cjs same shamans began to accept baptism; unlike the nineteenth-century priest Veniaminov, hawver, X am not convinced that by joining the K~~ssian Churcl~they were actually renouncing their craft.10 Gradually, the shamans surrendered their role as religious practitioners to the missionaries, not simply because of brute force but becarrse of their- own inability to combat devastating diseases introduced by the Europeans, Wlzite some shamans tried to fight the new diseases, far instance, by adding smallpox spirits to their repertoire of hetping agents, many shamans were perceived by their ctrmmunities as incapable of serving their new needs. Tl-tus, Veniaminov (1984 [184Q]:400) reported that in Sitka the Tlingit were saying that the present-day shamans were much weaker than the old ones and were attributing that decline to the fact that tlze former were intemperate and weak. The slzamans' decline might also be explained by the fact that the TLingit were losing trust in their power, Humiliated and persecuted, unable to ctrmbat new diseases or perform tlzeir lzealing seances witl-tout the fear of punishment, shamans increasingly lost their hrrld on the native community, becoming less and less relevant to its social and religious life. Amang the manifestations of this process were the refusaf of some of the prominent sfiamansVescendants to accept tlze call by inheriting their paraphernalia and by insisting that the shamanskorpses be disposed of, not above ground, in accordance with tradition, but by burial, which prevented their guardian spirits from being inlzerited (de Laguna 1972: 671). The fact that this began in the 18"3s, if not earlier, suggests that some Tlingit began to have strong doubts about the shamans>ower soon after their acceptance of Christianity.

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Modern-Day Elders Look at Shamanism

Before presenting the ethnographic data I collected from Tlingit informants on the subject of shamanism, I must comment brieAy about their background, Most of them ranged in age from sixty to ninety anci came mainly from Sitka and Angoon; the rest lived in Kake, Hoonah, Uakutat, and other Tlingit ccrmmtznities. Most of the discussions were conducted in English, with occasional Tlingit words and phrases,' T h e issue of shamanism was discussed in detail with about twenty elders, who betonged to several churches, including Orthodcrx, IJresbyterian, Salvation Armb and Assembly of Gad, A few of them bad seen shamans perform or had at least known tlze persons allegedly possessing slzamanistic powel:'Wthers had heard about well-known shamans from their own older relatives. Very few trf them dismissed or condemned shamanism totally. Even a very devcrut sixty-yearold Episccrpalian woman who emphaticaffy stated that "God and the i ~ tdo ' not go tog&hermm d tlzat tlze shaman ""srved Satan'benttaned tlzat he did have ""a gift from God but turned it into evil." Thus, even the more Americanized older TXingit who profess not to believe in the power of the ixt' read to take that power seriously, ref~~sing, for example, to touch or even look at the shamans2rcgalia and paraphernalia or to come near their graves for fear of being hurt by guardian spirits, Some of my middle-aged informants, who said that today shamanism has no place in Tlingit life, admitted that if they had lived in tlze old days, they, like everybody etse, would have believed in the ixt: A few of the oldest and most conservative eiders (who tend to be Rtrssian Ortlzocio~)embraced shamanistic beliefs whofelzeartedly and claimed that they saw no corntradicticrns between them and Christianity. When asked why all the shamans had disappeared, one of them responded, " m e n the TXingit decided to live like tlze white man, all the medicine men had to go.'Qnother elderly traditionalist ccrmmented that shamans could no longer exist because ""pel>ple dcr not live right anymore and are not pure:" Most of the informants positioned themselves between these two extreme views, neither to>tallycondemning nor fulfy accepting shamanism. They tried to divide the shamans into good and bad ones and to differentiate betwen those shamanistic activities that resembled Christian practices and those that were clearly ""heathen," Hence many of the elders sprrke abotzt the shamans as ""prophets," "11ealers," """Xdtan doctcrrs," """sirit men,'\or ""medicine menaYThey emphasized such posithe fttnctions as fighting witches (an activity that they, unlike the missionaries, saw as a tzseful service to the ccrmmunity), healing, finding missing persans, and upholding morality, One elderly wcrman from Yalcutat, a loyal Presbyterian church member, said: "What the white people call hitch docto>rhas no witch dcrctor at all. He fought against evil spirits. He fought against witches, The izt's were real God's peapXe. They taught us about the Ten Cammandznents. 'Do not kill.' %o not steal,' 'Do not commit adultery."The nottan that the teachings of the old-time shamans contained elements of the Ofd andltjr the New Testament was popuiar with many of my informants. Some spoke of the

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shaman hatsing a "gift from the Holy Spirit.'Wthers compared him to Moses, who taught the people about the Ten Cctmmandments, or to John the Baptist, who foretold and fadlitated the coming of Christ, X n fact, for tlzese elders the Bible served as a rich source of images in whiclz to couch an ""old-faslzionec2'"plzenomenon like slzamantsm anci make it more palatable to tlzemselves and tlzeir p u n g e r native and nonnative audiences. Wlzen describing the shaman" trance, several informants compared his imitation of the voices of the different spirits to the Apc~stles'speaking different languages after they had received the Woty Spirit or to the charismatic church membershsyeaking in tongues. Shamanistic healing was likened trt Christ" miracultous heaiing by laying hands on the afflicted or to the feats of modern-day faith healers, At least one person drew a parallel between tlze fdsting and other taboos observed by the shaman in training to the restrictions imposed on a man entering tlze priestlzoad. ""14th of:tl-tem walk a narrow path,'' he conclrtcied, One of my best informants, a very knowledgeable and reflective man in his sixties, a member of a fundamentalist church who claimed not to believe in shamanism but respected the old-time ""Xdian doctors,'' offered the following justification for the existence of shamans: "111 the absence of Christianity, I am sure that God in Heaven allowed [for the existence of] a brrlwark against the rampaging evil. The ultra-evil was held at bay by the presence of these noted practttianers." Another informant of the same age, who claimed to have read about ""primititre" "sbamans in Asia, insisted that the "flingit k t ' was not like them at all. Yet despite these comparisons betwen shamanism and biblical religion, none of my informants likened the power of the ixt' tc:, that of God himself. As one man put it: "I do not want to be dogmatic, but X think their [shamans" power was different from God" power. They were more like the gropl-rets mentioned in the Bible who coufd foretell the future.'" Some people appealed to madern popular science anci psychology to explain tlze ist's power. Several persons spoke of lzim as a ""grcat psycl-tiatrist:" a ""person who practiced telepathy," 'or the one who pc~ssessed""extrasensory perception or the sixth sense.'Wne etderly woman, trying to rationalize the effects of witchcraft on the human body, explained: "The medicine man was a psychiatrist. He told you what was wrong with you, For example, if you hated somebody, that hatred inside of you was making you sick. He could help you deal with that problem.'" In their effort to dctwnpfay the more ""heathen" elements of shamanism, some of the elders were critical of: the shaman's use of rattles, masks, and other paraplzernalia. The same woman who caIleci the &t?a psychiatrist pointed out that he ""made a mistake when he started wearing crowns, rattles, and bone neckfaces and to brag about himself. That is evil!" Another one asserted that ""te medicine men were okay until they decided to make themselt~rcsbig by using rattles, charms, and so forth. Pride is no good!" A third informant compared the use of rattles and other paraphernalia to ""a primitive type of voadocj" and contrasted it with the use of ""pre" qiritual power by tlze few "pad'%shamans.

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Many of the people X spoke to separakd the good "medicine men" "corn the bad "witch doctors" "(the latter term was popular among the whites in Alaska around the turn of the century). The good ""doctors" &B not harm anybody and did not ask fbr y ayment for their services, The bad ones were greedy and jealorzs of one another and would use their power to kill or otherwise harm o t l ~ e r shamans or ordinary persons. The goad ones coufd cure without using any paraphernalia; the bad ones could not. Thus, these informants have taken many of the actual cl~aracteristicsaaci practices of-the old-time &"that the missionaries candernned (e.g., the spiritual combats b e ~ e e nrival shamans) and applied them to the ""bad witch doctors," while creating a category of pure "~iealers" and ""paplzets." %me insisted that the more recent slzamans teacled to be bad or at least weaker than the ""real old-dme Indian dctctcors," Others echoed the missionaries when they said that many of the more recent shamans were imp(>"txs. Thus tlzey accepted some of- the criticism levcled by the whites against the shamans, without rejecting their belief in shamanistic power altogether, According to my informants, the best proof of the power and wisdc~mof these good old-time shamans was tlze ability of some of them to predict the coming of the Europeans and especially of Christianitlt; which they had allegedly recognized and welcomed as a superior religion. A ntzmber of people I spoke to h e w about specific shamans who had that reputation, remembered their names and the names of their vilfages, and gave some details about their prophecies, One kncowledgeable informant spoke abc~uttw) shamans from Klukwaan who predicted the European arrival afier their spirits lzad gone out to sea and had seen the European ships. Another told about a power&] ixthnamed Sllawaan f?) who often spoke about the various technological miracles that the whites would someday bring to southeastern Alaska, including the "&our-eyed monster" "utomobile) and "a box through which people could talk to each other" (radio and teleplzone). He also allegedly announced that someciq ordinary people, ratlzer than just witches, wcoutd be able to fly in the air. A third informant told of a shaman who warned the people to expect trorzble from the first Europeans, with their ""pwerfu2 water" "iquor) anci &rearms, bat encouraged them to trust the next group of newtdmers, "with long hair and long beards" @torthodnic),and imitates an Orthodox priest in various other ways, The fc>ffawing narrative was recarded from WiXliam Nelson, an elderly Angoon man who was a churchgoer as well as a very knowledgeable traditionalist of ncobte origin: There once lived a xnall in the Angoon area who was very sick-he had a strong internal bleeding, One night he saw a man coming through the door. He had a long heard and white hair [looked like a Russian priest]. He was coming closer and closer hut then disappeared, He went Into the sllamank body Xt w a s a pcwm, a healing power spirit, We caf) it ktlgawsu ydik [good luck spirit], After that the sick man be-

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came a shaman; he w u l d sing shamads songs at night. He w a s gettitzg the power. Pretty soon his bleeding stopped-no more blood came out of his ~xouth. He felt good and decided to go to the beach to get some fresh water from a stream, m e n he scooped up sulxe water, 0x1 the botroxn of his cup he S , ~ Wa cross. He drank the water with the cr0ss.1~That rxigl~the began making rxoises like a sharnan does whe11 the spirit comes down on him. He was sf~eakingRussian. People knew it was Rt~ssianhecause the K~~ssian boats were already visiting them at that time, He otvned a Russian axe and every time fie spoke K~~ssian he wcjutd pick it up. That is wl1e1l the ltussian spirit came dawn on him. !lie call it Anhashi ylzhaciyi [ltussian spirit]. He used that axe to chase away the evil spirits that made his patients sick. He told the people that every sevellth day this ykik would colxe dawn on him and that un that day the l~ousehad to be cleaned very thororxghly. He was a strong &t' and he had two powers-the heaIirig good luck spirit (kugawasu ykik) and the Russian spirit {Anrioshi yahaayr'). He corxid telI when sornebody was going to he healed or when witches were doing some wicked things. He lived a long time ago but the Russians were already here, He died in a cave rxear Angoor%.

Xn this story the pro~agoniststill acts as a traditional shaman who simply adds a new guardian spirit to his repertoire, Apparently this is a very powerft~fspirit (yitik or yahaayi), since it helps the izt\ecover from a life-threatening illness. With the new spirit come new material objects, a secular one (axe) and a sacred one (crucifix), as well as a new language. Of wurse, any pre-Christian y4ik manifested itsetf similarly throtzgh its tmn special song, mask, voice, and language. At the sarne time, this new Cl-zristian("IXussian"') spirit uses the shaman as a mouthpiece far a new form of: ritual observance, the celebration of the seventh clay of the week. The narrattrr admits that the Russians were already in sc~utheastern Alaska when this happened but insists that the Angoon kt' did not travel to Sitka to visit the Russian church tlzere and had not been baptized. In other accorznts, the shaman is described as having suffered a temporary death when his soul left the body and visited heaven, Upon the soul's rdurn, the shaman comes back to life ancl begins teaclling the people to clean their houses prior to the seventh sacred day and to rest on that day." The most elabctrate account of a shaman" propheq that incorporated elements of Christian teaching comes from the village of Kake and describes tlze events that took place in the nineteenth century in a community located in Tebenbf Bay on Kuiu Island, the original home of sarne of the Kake people, X recorded several versions of that story from three Kake informants in 1979, while Biftman, an etl~nagl-apherfmm Sheldon Jackson College in Sitka, whs~w r k e d in the 1960s and the early 19'70s, collected similar accounts from informants in several communities outside Kake (transcripts of these accounts are Izoused in the Billman Collection). The gist rrf the story is that a local shaman who goes into the mountains comes back wit12 the warning that, despite the starvation that is coming, tlze people should not touch the first run of sockeye salmon. In order to avoid a terrible illness they must wait for the next run, In some xrsions of this story, the people are told to wait until God or spirits purl+ the fish, kept in a net, and make it edible.

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The people disobey and soon fall victim to same unknown disease that causes high fever and blisters or sores all over tlze body, followed by blood coming out af the mouth, and then death. In some versions, afflicted men run around, waving their fists or spears as if trying to kill some unknown spirits. The entire village is destroyed except for one or two survivors who tell the story to the people of Kake, The inhabitants of a neighboring viltage erect a cross on the sp~rtwhere the victin1s30dies lie. Some of the older informants claimed to have seen the remains of: a village an that spot when they were younger The cross was allegedly still visible a few decades ago. It is tzncfear what happened to the shaman himself: According to some versions of this story, the same shaman tctld the people about observing the Shbath and especially warneci them not to use any sharp objects on that day: He also taught them how to make crosses and spoke in some tznkncrwn language, ""probably Hebrew.'Wne informant cfaimed that the shaman w r e a 'koweI" around his neck and lifted his hands up into the air (i.e., dressed and acted like an Orthodax priest). t>epending on the storyteller's backgrounci, some versions of this narrative piace mtzch greater emphasis on the Christian nature of this shaman" prophecies, One man insisted that it was God or ""the High Above Spirit: not an ordinary ykik, that tlze Tebenkof Bay shaman was communicating with. Another infc~rmantsaid that Gcrd was testing the people and that all they had to dct was to wait one more day for him to purify the fish, but they refused to obey God and were punished by him. Some of my informants denied that the disease that destroyed the pec>pleof Tebenlcof Bay was an epidemic. However, others insisted that it was in fact smallpox (cf. Peck 1975: 5-7). One of Billman's informants located the event in the early 1830s, when her great-grandmother was a ycjtzng girl. Tliis, of course, was the time of a terrible smallpox epidemic that swept through many Tlingit communities, possibly including the Ehenkof Bay area. This epidemic, the Fact that several informants claimed tc>be direct descendants of its survivors, and that the lctcation of the unhrtunate village is w l l established suggest that these events may very well have taken place. It is also reasonable to assume tlzat a local slzaman was called tzpon to deal with this terrible affliction, The people" response to the disease was similar to the waly Tlingit in other villages Qeatt with epidemics. For example, as de Laguna ( 1972: 7 10) was told in Yakutat: "Epidemics were believed tc>be the work of spirits that came in boats, sometimes paddling in canoes, or riding in a sailing ship or even in a steambctat. They were invisible to any eyes but tlzose of the shaman. In the boat were all those who lzad previously died of: the disease, and in this way they travefed to the Land of the Dead. . . . Some persons received such disease spirits as their y&k, and so became shamans'" Even though the Tebenkc>frBay story does not mention the spirits of:the disease or their origin, the fact that the fish is blamed f:br it suggests some connection beween the water and the ittness. The physicaf manifestations of the illness are also reminiscent of smallpox. The fact that epidemics were tferribty friglztening anci confusing tcr the Tlingit is ccrnfirmed by the Russians whcr c~bservedsome of the sick Sitka Indians in the late 1830s eating sncw and desperatef-yjumping into the

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cold water of the ocean, hoping to relieve their fever, They atso mention that the afflicteci appealed to the slzamans for lzely and t l ~ a tcuring seances were performed, but to no amil [Veniaminrw 1984 [ 18401: 434; Tikhmenev 19'78: 198-99). If this story originated in the mtd-nineteenth century, Kuiu area people had already lzad some contact with the R~~ssians and other Europeans. They might even have heard about the Russian Orthc~dcrxchurch, and it is pctssible that a few (tf them had already been to Sitka, had seen its rituals, and had been baptized. It is true that the shaman" interpretation of tlze disease is very traditional: prohibitions on eating certain foods [Eigaas) were quite common in the pre-Christian Tlingit religion. The first run of csh or other "first fruits" were often shared with tlze whole community, given to tlze poor anci tlze old, or treated in other special ways. Setting aside fish and other edibles and keeping them in a container that is not to be touched by ritually unprepared lqyeople is a common theme in Tlingit mythology, In fact, in some versions, the Tebenlcof Bay story has nothing to do with the prediction of Christianity*ancl these versions might actually be tlze original ones. H(>wever,many of them have a strong moralizing flavor. The ultimate cause of the disease is nctt some unseen evil spirits but the Supreme Spirit or God who punished people for their impatience anci the violation of his taboo. Raditionally, illness or death were common forms of punishment for violating a taboo, It is interesting that some storyteffers add mistreatment of small birds by children, a typical Tlingit violation (Iigaas) that brings about death and illness, as another reason for the punishment Gffered by the unfortunate village. Finally, the story casts the shaman in the potwerfrrl role of a prophet or messenger h e ~ e e nmankind ancl a new spirit. that is more powerft~ftlzan the ykik. Even if the origi~zafTebenkof Bay shaman was not the same man who introduced the first etements of Christianiv to the people of that area, his ability to interpret the meaning of the new disease might have been seen by subsequent generations as a sign of unusual wisdom. Like other shamans, he could not cure the new disease but cctuld explain why it came, couching his interpretation in traditional cultural idioms while adding new symbols borrowed from a new source of superhuman power. While stories about the shamans predicting the coming of the whites are rather common, I collected very few narratives about actual encounters b e ~ e e nmtssionaries anci shamans, Several informants said tlzat the early missionaries were impressed with the pt>werof the k r h n d allegedly even acknomrtedged that it was spiritual p o w e ~Persons who persecuted shamans harshfy are viewed unsympatlzetically by the Tlingit elders, Thus, the above-mentioned efforts of zealots like Commander Class were often mentioned, but instead of describing hc~wshamans were hrrmiliated when their hair was cut short, several elders claimed that the whites were a h i d to harm tl~osemedicine men, who threatened to use their power to kill any person who touched the scissors. Tile mast interesting account of this kind deals with a Hoonah shaman who was asked by his village to kill a Presbyterian missinnary For several days this prtwerful i~t-ried to use his spirits to kill the enemy Finally, he gave up, announcing that there was nothing he could do. ""l"l?isman" soul is fike a big rctund

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rock covered with ice. You can't lift it-your hands are too short and it slips awdy*"As the narrator explained: ""T~iswas the shaman's wdy of saying that the man" soul was pure and that he possessed a higher pcrwer- The shaman alst:, said that the missionary was bringing them the good news and the beginning of a new life. He came with Xove and not hate and he was telling them the truth. AAer that the viltage accepted Christianity. This story demonstrates the power of the Lc~rd."

What do these narratives tell us about the fate of the Tfingit shamans in the postcontact period and about the modern-d ;ly Tlitzgit elders?interpretation of slzamanism? To begin with, it appears that at feast some of these stories, like the ones abcrtzt the events in Tebenkof Bay or the ccrnfrontatton b e ~ e e an n &'and a missionary in Woonah, are not recent inventions but accounts (however modified) of actual events that took place after cantact, Thus, for example, the story about an Angoan i z t h h o acqujxd a pc~werfutspiri"cfrctm a ltussian was told to me by an elderly man who claimed to have learned it in his younger days, The nineteenth-cenfufy origin of this story, or at least of this type of story, is confirmed by Swanton (1908: 4651, who was told in Sitka in 1904 that in the Angrron area there was a shaman who claimed to have acquired his power from ""abig Rt~ssian." If such narratives rekr to the actual events that took place in the nineteenth century, W are dealing here with the shamans>respcrnse to mysterious new yhenomena brought about by Erxrcryeans and Americans. The shamans, like the rest of the Tlingit, were trying to camprehencl not only powerful new diseases but the impressive wealth and military might of the newcomers. Because in the traditional Tlingit culture such things w r e linked to the possession of spiritual powr, the slzamans must have concludecl tl-tat the white man had a lot of it (Kan 1985; cf, Harkin 1988a, 19RXb).This idea mtzst have been reinforced by the whitesynvincibttity to epidemic diseases and their possession of antidotes to them. The Fact that the missionaries were involved in administering vaccines t~ncloubtedly contributed to the clergy's high stature in the eyes of the Tlingit refigious specialists and laypersans (cf. Veniarninov 1984 [ 1,8401: 434). However, instead of surrendering to this new power, nineteenth-century shamans tried to harness it for their own purposes, borrc3wing magical objects, substances, and fcjrmulas from their Euro-American. rivals, TCIdo so they did not even have to have a face-to-face encounter with a priest but cauld rely on stories about the mysterious rites conducted in Sitka, stories that had undoubtedly circuIated thrcrughout TXingir: country since the beginning of the nineteenth century. It is quite possible that these borrowings appeared to the shamans' tribesmen as independent inventions, The idea that the shamans could predict the coming of the "Reople from under the Clouds" made perfect sense in tight of the indigenous Tlingtt worldview The shamans, the only persons capable of traveting thraugh time and space, had to predict this important event. In fact, it is quite conceivable that a shaman from a

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village that had not yet experienced white contact woufd be foretelling the arrival of the Europeans on the basis of the rumors rapidly spreading througlzout the Northwest Coast. All this suggests that my own infcjrmants and other ~entieth-centuryTfingir: who have told stories about the ofd-time shamans predicting the European arr i d have been drawing upon earlier accounts with deep roots in the nineteenth century, Of course, they have tended tco rethink and reinterpret these narratives ixt tight of their own historical experience. It is not surprising that sucl~stories have become especiaffy pcryular since the 1960s, when the Tlingit were no longer subject to heav-handed missionary control and criticism. These narratives play a very itnportant function in the mociern-day Tlingit worldview They refuse to accept the Euro-Americanskccrndescendingview of shamanism and other aspects of the preccrntact n a t i religion, ~ thcrugh they do concede the ultimate validity trf Christianity as the postcontact religion of the Tlingit people, In these narratives tlze &t' serves as a p<>werftlland wise mediator betwen the past and the present, between the old-time religion, which is pcrrtrayed as valid but incompltete, and the new one, which is recognized as superior to it, In some sense it is irrelevant whether the narratives X collected go back one huncired years or are more recent. Wltat is essential is that today they play the role of what Fogelson (1989: 143) calls "qyttomizing events," that is, "narratives that condense, encapsulate, and dramatize long-term historical processes, Such events are it~ventionsbut have such compelling qualities and explanatczry power that they spread rapidly thrcrugh the group and soan take on an ethnohistorical reality of their own.'Vn Harkin" (1988a: 101) terms, sucll events "mediate between radically different yet consecutive synchronic states, whcrse conjuncture was . . . more subtle and gradual: and yet these epitomizing events provide meaningful cultural symbols and mnemonic devices for the ruytrxre." The fact that the old-time shamans ccruld predict the coming of Christianity denies the whites their claim of being the givers of truth to the ""backward" h d i ans. As many af my informants insisted: "The white people did not teach us anything new; we had already known about the true religion. W knew abcrut the Great Spirit up in heaven even though W did not w r s h i p him the waly we do today." The onty new thing that the white people brorzght to tzs was the Holy Bibfe.'" To assert one" equality with the whites by refusing to see them as givers is particufarly important to the society where those receiving a gift have traditionally been seen as less powerhi than those giving it. Finally, this view of the old-time shamans as wise prophets and beafers relieves some of the modern-day elders of the burden of hatsing to reccrncile their devotion to Christianity with their belief in, or at least respect for, the indigenous religion, If the old-time shamans were frauds, why would one stifl be afraid of touching their paraphernalia, and how wcjuld one explain all their miracuious feats, portrayed in numerous stories passed down from generation to generation? In the opinion of contempcrrary Tlingit elders, their cwn ncrbfe ancestc)rs had to be telling the truth about the powerful medicine men of yesterdw

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The aim of this article has been to demonstrate the importance of pqing attention to indigenous versions of history in reaching a much more thorctugh understanding of the past and present experience of Native North Americans. Far many of them, history is not just some events that happened in the past but a vital force that continues ta shape the present, Despite the impact of the written Western culture, oral traditions continue to be passed down from generation to generatirzn, particularty in such societies as the Tlingit, where rank, status, and prestige still depend on one's pedigree and knovvfedgeof it. At the same time, accounts about ancl interpretations of: the past are constantly being reshaped in resycrnse to more recent and current events and experiences. This has alwys occurred, because few oraf traditions remain forever unchanging. Wowver, since the arrival of Europeans and especialty since the establishment of American political domination, lzistory has become hotly contested between the ccrlonizers and the colonized. Until recently, the former, particularly those determined to ""c;vilizethe natives," tried to denigrate that history and contrast the heathen "old customs" with the new crtfture of the ""cmpetent Clzristkzn citi~ns'yafavorite Presbyterian term). Native Americans, hc>we.r.er,while ac~epting(or being forced to accept) many of the changes introdr~cedby the dominant society, have tried to maintain their own version of the pas&which emphas&esthe virtues of the ancestors and dc3wnylays their vices. Thus the relationship b e ~ e e nmissionary and nafve versions of Tlingit history can be seen as a moral dialogue (cf. Burkhart 1989) in which the twa sides use some of:the same language (i.e., Christianity) ancl describe some of the same events but often disagree on their meaning. The new rhetoric of Christianity is even used by the Indians to criticize the whites, For example, many of the persons cited in this article said that the EuroAmericans themselves have not lived tzp to the teachings of Christ, and that it is the Tlingit who are the true Christians and have "always followed the R n Cornmandznents? Thus the tables have been turned on the colonhers, whose own ideology beccrmes a weapon in the hands of the colonizd (cf. Ctrmaroff 1985). The material presented here also challenges the notion of the existence of a monolitl-tic ""Tlingit culture'kequally shared by members of that society, As I have shcwn recentfy (Kan 1989a), there is considerable disagreement among the Ttin@iton the rctle of the potlatch in modern-day society and on the meaning of its specific symbols, Similarly, shamanism is looked tlpon somewhat differently by individlzaf Ttingit, depending on their religious affiliation, age, education, and other factors, The goal of the ethnographer i s to represent these divergent view rather tl-tan gloss over tl-tem. Up until now, none of the ethnographers wrking in southeastern Alaska have paid much attention to these issrres. Determined to gain data with which to reconstruct the nineteenth-century ("~aditional")T2ingtt culture, scholars trained in the Boaslan tradition collected numerotzs narratives, but the latter tended not to deal with Tlingit-white relations. Thus, for example, Swanton ( 19C19: I )---who acknowledged in the introdrtction to a major callection of:Tlingit myths and sto-

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ries that one of his key informants, Katishan, was a church member who showed a ""moralizing tendencym-did not iiszd it important to consider that Christianity might have colored this man" version of the myths of the Raven cycle. Similarly; while de Lagunak ( 1960,1972) remarkably detailed works on the culture and history of two Tlingit villages, Angoon and Yakutat, are airned at reconstructing their eighteenth- and nineteenth-century histories, native representations of postcontact events involving whites are given short shrift.'" X t is not my intention lzere to criticize my predecessors, whose work has been a major inspiration and a source of vatuable data. fn fact, much of my own ethnographic and ethnohistrorical research has also aimed at reconstructing and anatyzing the Tlingit cufture prior to its dramatic transformation in tlze t900s (see Kan 1989b). W a t f am arguing, however, is that in order to construct a truly c o m p r e h e n s i ~ethnohistory of Northwest Coast and rrther Native North American societies, we must incorporate more of Fogelsan" ethno-ethnohistary into it. To succeed in this project we, anthropologists and ethnnhistorians, will have to entist the hetp of archaeologists, linguists, folldc>rists,and, of course, n a t i x historians themselves'17

I worxid like to express my gratitude to those Tliingit elders who over the years have ta~rght me so much about their cult~~re and history, especially Mark jacobs, Jr., Chartie joseph, "fhomas tiiosxng, Jimmy George, Manhew Fred, George Jim, William Nelson, and Mases Rose, One of these elders, Jisnmy Ceorge, passed away in the summer of 11390 at the age cof one ihu~ldredwhen X was writing this article, and so it is dedicated to him. However, it expresses my own opinions and interpretations rather than those of my Tlitlgit teachers. I would also like to thank my academic teacher, Raymond D. Fogeilson, for ixrtrodudng me to etl~nohistoryand etbno-ethnohistory,and the anonyxnous reviewers of this article for their heiyk~lcomments, The research for and writing uf the article were supported by a Summer Stipend frc3m the Natiorzat Endr?wmentfor the Humanities and by a grant from the PhiHips Fund of the American Philosophical Society. l. For a fine recent discussion of indigenous South America11perspectives on the past (including Euroy~eaxicaxltact and colonization), see Hilt 1988, %mer7s (1988) commentary on these essays is of special interest because it raises generat theoretical issues concerning the relatiorsship between "myth""and ""history" in inon-FYestern cultures. In his essay Turner uses the term ellzna-ethsstnhistc~rybut (surprisingly) does rxot credit Fogelsorz with coining it, 2, Most of the Tlingit sl~arnanswere rnaie, even though there were some powerful female ones as well, Throughout this article I refer to shamans with the masculine pronoun. 3. For details on "flirrgit shamanism see Veniaminov 1984 j 18401; Kratrse 1956 j 18851; Kamenskii 1985 [ 190S]; Swa~lton1908; de Laguna 11 372,11387. 4, This brief overview is based on Katl t 985, 1987, t 988, t 990b, ft3rthcorning. 5 , Unlike Sitki and funeau,which became America11towns with s~ibstantialnative popubtiorss, Tlingit villages, especially in the north, were cotxposed almost entirely of conservative people, so that there was not much difference between those who joined the Rrrssian Ortl~odoxchurch and tllose who becaxne Presbyterian. In addition, peoi~lein the villages

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were more likely to go hack and forth behiveen the different churches, a phmomennon that corltixrues to this day, 6. The term old customs was Introduced by the Protestants and was frequently used by Euro-Americans and Indians alike to describe the various indigenous practices and beliefs In a somewhat pejorative way; X f Is stir1 used toddy by some of the older Tlingit. 7. For biographical information on mcldern day TIingit elders who comfi~rtablycombine Indigenous and Christian beliefs and practices, see Dauenhauer and Dauenl~arrer 1987: 443-5 111; 1990: 52 1-57. 8, Thus Governor John Bra*, who started his career in Sirka as a Presbyterian xnissionary, tried once to diss~iadesome Sitka Itldiarls from relying on a shaman during the 1898 epidemic of tuberculosis. We invited thelx to his o&ce and disyfayed some yhysidogical charts, exyiaining the carxse ofrlle disease and telling them that white people suffered fromn it as well, Having listerled to the lecture, one Tlingit dder replied: "Well, that is what the white men say. We are Indians, and W kr?towthat there are witches" f Hlnckley 1982: 254). 9. Cf. McCIelbn 11975,2: 5 2 9 4 3 on the Inland Tfingit, Tagish, and T~~tchone shamans. 10. Cf. de Lagrxna 1972: 723 or?tiiaktrrtat In the early 3900s. 11. Because sha~narlisrxrernaii~sa rather sensitive topic fur many of the elders, I do not mention their nalxes in this article, 12. Some irlfurmants said that when the5 as yc?ung chiidrea, saw an igt' perfc~rxn,they still believed in his power; otl~ersciaimed that they had already iost that belief. One elderly Mroman, who had been raised in a devorrt Christian family in Silrka, told of throwing sand at an Angoon &hand thus forcing him to stop a searlce when, as a young girl, she saw him perform on her arrnt. 13..Compare the Orthodcix ritual of consecrating the water by imrxersing a cross in a full container, perforxned on the feast of Epiphany. The Tliing;iz:called this ceremony ""baytizing the crc)ss." 14. Cf. McCIeUan 1075,2: 553-63 or1 the Inland Tlingit and their Athapaskan neighbors, 15, Wrbile the pz-econtact Tlingit religion might have included a vaguely defined concept of a supreme being or spirit, maIIy ofthe modern-day dders firmly befiew that such a r?totionexisted and that their ancestors prayed to ""Orrr Spirit Above,'" althorxgh only In times of great troulale rather than cax~stantly,as Christians do (for more details see de Laguna 1972: 8 12-16 and Dauenbauer and Dauenhauer 1990: 126,438). 16. A few refererlces in de Lag~naSstudy of Uak~~tr-tt sr~pportmy findings. Her elderly Informar~ts,Intervie~vedin the late 1940s and the early 1950s, spoke about a female shamarl who predicted the corxing of the Russians (de Lakwna 1972: 713) and compared sharnans' guardiatl spirits to angels or to the Holy Ghost (ibid.: 682). 17. One very prorxising project is being carried out by two linguist-folklorists and speakers of the Tlingit language (one of wfioln is a TIingit herself), Richard and Wora Marks Uarrenbauer, who since the late 1960s 11ave been collecting, transcrbirtg, translating, and analyzixrg Tlingit oral traditions. So far they have published two bilingual voiumes (Dauenhauer and Dauenllatrer 1987, 1990) in a series that promises to Include various other genres of Tlingit folklore,

References

Billman Gi>IIecticm.Archivrzs, Stratton Memorial Librar)baSllefdon Jachon College, Sitka, AK.

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Narsukov9Ivan P*,ed, 11897-1901 Pisjma Innr)kentiia, mitroyolita moskt)vskc~gc> i kc)fornenskogo, 2828-1878 {Letters of Innocent, Metrok~olitanof Moscow and Koloxnrxa, 1828-1878). 3 vc~is.St. Petersbttrg. 13rightman, ltobert A. 1990 Primitivism in Missinippi Cree Historical Coxlsciotrsness, Man, n,s., 25: 11 08-28. 13urbart, Louise M, 1988 The Slippery Earth: Nahua-Cl-tristiatl: Marai Dialogue in Sixteenth-Centrxry Mexico. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. CoxnaroE, Jean 1985 Body of Power, Spirit of ltesistance: The Culture and History of a Sorrth African People, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, Uauenhauer, Nora M., and Richad Uauenl~auer1987 ILiua Shtlkd, 011s Ancestors: Tlingit Oral Narratives. Seattie: University of Washington Press. 1990 Hctu IELwundagu. Yis, For Heating Our Spirit: Tlingit Oratcr~y.Seattle: University of Washington Press. de Lagttna, Frederica 1960 The Story of a TIi~lgitCommunity: A Prcrblem in the Kelationship between Archaeological, Ethnological, and Historical Methods. Bureau of American Etl~nology,Rulletiit-rNo. 172. Washington, D(:: U.S. Government Prirztitzg Office, 1972 Under Mount Saint Elias: The History and Culture of the Ydkutat Ttingit, Smithsonia~zContributiorzs to Anthropology, No. 7.3 vols, Washington, nc: Smithsonian Institution Press. 1987 Atna and Tlingit Shamanism: Witchcraft orz the Northwest Coast. Arctic Anthropology 24: 84- 100. Emmons, George TXT 1945 The TLingit Indians. Unpublished manuscript. Archives, Axnerican Mtiseum of Natural Histcrry, New York. Fogetsox~,Xlaymor~dD. 1974 On the Varieties of Xrrdiatl History: Secluoyah and Traveller Bird, Jorxrnaf of Ethnic Strrdies 2: 105-1 2. 19889 The Ethnohistory of bellts and Notlevents. Ethnohistory 36: 133-47. Glass, Henry 1890 Naval Adminbtration In Alaska. Proceedings of the United Naval Xnstitute 16(1): 1-14), Harkin, Micl~ael1988a History, Narrative, and Tempcrraiity: Exampies from the Northwest Coast, Ethnohistory 35: 99-130. l"388b Dialogues of History: Transformation and Cl-tange in Weiltsuk Culture, 1790-11320. Ph.D. diss., Department of Anthropology, University of Chicago. Hill, Tonathall D., ed. 1088 ltethinking History and Myth: Indigenous South Arnerican Perspectives on the Past. Urhana: Urlllversity of Tllinois l>ress. Hinckiey, Ted C. 1972 The Amerieal~izationof Alaska, 1867-1897, PaIo Aito, CA: Pacific Books. 11982 Alaskan John G. Nrady: Missionary, Brlsinesscnan, Judge, and Governor, 1878-19 18. Colurnbus: Obio State University Press, Jones, Livingstone F. 1914 A Study of the Thlingets of Alaska. New York: Flemiag I-I. ltevell Co. &menski, Anati~lii1985 [190S] Ttingit Indians of Ahaska. Sergei Kan, trans. and @d.Kasmuson Library Historial Trandatiun Series, Vol. 2, FairbaAs: U~~iversity of Alaslca Press. Kan, Sergei f 985 Rt~ssianOrthodox Rrotl~erl~oods amorzg the "fli~rgit:Missiorzary Gods and Native Xtesponse. Eilhnohistory 32: 196-223. 1987 Memory Eternal: Rt~ssianQrthodoxy and the Tli~agitMortuary Complex. Arctic Anthropology 24: 32-55,

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1988 Rt~ssianOrthodox Missions, It$ Handbook of North American Indians, Vd. 4, History of Indian-White ftelations. Wilcornb E, Washburn, ed, Pp, 506-21. Washington, DC: Smithsonian I~lstitrxtionPress. 1989a Cohorts, Generatiorzs, and Their Culture: The Ttingit Potlatch in the 1980s. Anthrclpos 84: 405-22. 1989b Symbolic Immortality: The Tfingit btlatch of the Ni~leteentlsCentury. Wasl~irzgton,uc: S~nithsonianXrrstitl~tiotlPress. 1990a Tlre Sacred and the Secular: Tlingit Potlatcls Soslgs outside the btlatcls. American Tndiaxs Quarterly 14: 355-66, 1990b Recording Native C ~ ~ l t uand r e Clsrist;tias~izing the Natives: Russian Orthodox Missio~lariesin Southeastern Alaska. Xn Elussia in North America: Proceedings of the Second International Conference on Russia11America. Richard A. Pierce, ed. Pp. 298-3 1 3. Kingstots, ON: Limestone. forthcoming Russian Orthadt~xMissionaries and the Tlingit Indians of Alaska, 1880-1890. Irz New Uime~lsionsin Etlsnc:,l~istory,Barry M. Gougls, ed. Canadian Ethrxoiogy Service Mercury Series. Ottawa: Canadian Museum of Civilization, Krause, Arnrel 11356 [l8851 The Bingit Indians. Erna Guntber, trans. Seattle: University of Washington Presa McCleltan, Catherine 1975 My Old, hopie Say: An Ethnographic Survey of Southern Yukc~sl Territory. 2 vols. Publicatintls in Ethnology, k. 6, Qt;Za~va: National M u s u m of Man. Oberg, Kaiervo 1973 The Social &onomy of the Tliingit Indians. Seattle: University of 1VashingtoxsPresa Peck, Cyrus E., Sr. 1975 The Tides People, Juneatr, AK: Indian Studies Prr~gram. Spier, Leslie 1935 The Prophet Dance of the Northwest and Its Derivatives. General Series in Anthropolog, No. 1. Menasha, wr: George lfanta, Suttles, 'bZrayne 1957 The Piateat1 Prophet Dance amclng the Coast Salish. Soutlswestern Journal of Anthropology 13: 352-96. Swanton, John R. 1908 Social Conditions, Netiefs, and Ling~isticRelationship of the Tlingit Indians. In T~venty-skthAllnual fxeport of the Bureau of Axnerican Ethnology for the k a r s 1904-1N5, Pp. 391-5 12. Washingtorz, nc: U.S. Government Printi~zgOffice, 1909 TLingit Myths and Texts. Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin No. 39. Wasl~irzgton,DC: U.S. Goverxrment Printing Office. Tikhmenev, k t r A, 11378 A Histc>~y of the Russian-American Company, Kiclsard A, Pierce and Alton S, Dorxnelly, trans. and ecls. Seattte: University of Wasbingturz Press. Turner, Terence 11388 Ethno-Ethnr>histc:,v:Myth and Histo;r)b i11 Native South American ltepresentations of Cutltacr with !liestern Society, Xn Itetbinking History and Myth: Indigenous South Americas1 Perspectives on the Past. Jonathan D. Hill, ed. Pp. 235-81. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. TS;eniaminov;Ivan 1984 (18401 Notes on the Isiarxds of the Unalashka District. Lydia TE: l3lack and Itichard H , Geoghegan, trrztls. Kingston, ON: Limestone; Fairbanks: University af Alaska Press. 'bZriIlard,Garolyn McCt~y1884 Life in AIash: Letters of Mrs. Eugene S. Willasd. Em McCIintock, ed. Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board of IJzlhlicatian, 'bZrptt,Victoria 1989 Images from the Inside Passage: An Alaskan Pc>rtraitby Winter and Pond, Serzttle: University of lniashington Press. Young, S. Halt 1927 Hall Yc311ng of Alaska: ""The Mushing Parson." New York FIsming H. Revell CO,

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Reflections on Christianity in China Morton H* Fried

Atthough Christian missions were present in China by AD, 671 and mission-intrcjduced medical: and educational institutions have flourished, Christianity has never gained an important place in Chinese religious life, This essay reflects upon the long-term failure of Christianity to adapt to local beliefs and contexts (in contrast to Buddlzism), and suggests that the future of Christianity in China is no more secure than its past. -At.rthori Ahtracr

T H E EARI.IEST M I S S I O N A R I E S I N CHINArepresented no Christian sect but were Btlddhists fmrn India, said to have come through central. Asia. The exact date of: their arrival is cantmversiai bat it seems to hiwe occurred in tlze 1st century of the Christian era. The new religion was well accepted and it is estimated that by the 5th century, ten percent of China" population was Buddhist (Houdous f 946:238). One of the most interesting of the phenomena of Chinese history is the alternation of periods of comparative governmental centralization and decentratizatian. The historian Arthur Wright has suggested that ""periods of disintegration and . . . loss of the holistic and retated are the only periods in which the Chinese f 959: 124)."Buddhism have shown any responsiveness to alien ideas" "right initially entered China during the Former Han dynasty, a. period of stability, Afier a brief interregnum by the usurper, Wang Mang, the Han dynasty Clmown as the Latter Han) continued throughout the f st and 2nd centuries A.D,, exerting a strong centrat government, In the troubled years preceding the fall of Han (A.D. 200) and during the chaos that followed in the period of the Three Kingdoms, the decentralization was complete, That, presumably, was the period when Buddlzism flourishecl.

Anlerican Ethnologist 14(1) (February 1987): 94-106.

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As will be seen, although Christianity has done better in conversions during periods of breakdown of central government, it has simply never done well, certainly never as well as Buddhism. Buddhism reached a r ~ n i t hin the Tkng dynasty (61tt--906)* By then Buddhist priests, nuns, and monks comprised a significant proportion of the topal population and the ft~rmalBuddhist cctntrol of fand and wealth had reached its optimum. The government responded by confiscating propefiy, and hosts of clerical men and women were defrocked ancl sent into a nontheofogicaf life. Important members of the ruling elite and the literati in general always looked upon Buddhism as heterodclx and thus highly suspicious. (They held an even more negative view of C1zristianity)""fh revulsion against Buddhism occurred despite the fact that the reigning emperor considered himself a Btzddhist, Yet, by 845 the emperor, now won to the anti-Buddhist side, issued the foHc3wing Imperial edict: "The government cannot abandon the human beings of the Middle Kingdctxn to the folXowii~gof the life-denying (w~twei)religion of a foreign country" "(I-I~. 1946:279), Thou& Buddl~ismnever returned to a comparable position in China, the ntzmber of its practitictners wctuid mntinue to oscillate but remain significant. Indeed, according to a Mainland source, the number of Buddhists in China in 1957 was 100 milion (Wlch 196';7:393).Hofmes Wlch, a student of Buddhism, questions that figure, doubtful that it applies trt what he woufd consider true Buddhists, persons accepting the ""Three Refuges": Buddlza, the Buddhist clergy, the Buddhist taw (Welch 1967). But this takes us to a major characteristic of Chinese religious beliefs. Though all aspects of ideology are syncredc, Chinese religion has been especially so. Very early in its career, Chinese Malzayana Buddlzism was infiltrated by traits and complexes diffused from other Chinese religions. Buddhist toleration of such diffusions is probably one of the main reasons for its successft~lpenetration of Chinese culture, compared to tlze 6~ilureof Christianity. Before discussing the reception of Christianity in China, it is neessary to give some idea of the ideological, and specificalfy religious, backgrctund of its people, Even before the first Chinese dynasty known to lzistory, the Slzang (B.C. 1766-B.C. 11221, the religion of the people was animistic, with ancestor worship as the majrtr theme. Subsequently, with the rise of Skang and its replacement by C11ou (B.C. f 122-8.C. 206) a belief in a high god became common, altl~ough myriads of lesser divinities often received more of the attention of the faithful. Monotheism has never been important in China, In local obsemances, Shen (local gods or spirits) abound. Malzayana Buddhism also recognizes a plurality of Buddhas and even more Bodhissa~as,and has incorpclrated many of the local deities of the folk religions it encountered in its spread, l3rxring the Shang dynasty tlze high god in tlze panthean was Shang-ti;%in the succeeding Chou dynasty, the high god was T?en (sky, heat~en).Late in Chou, both terms were used, often together, Twct thousand years tater, as we will see, Christian missionaries show confusion about the best translation of the monotheistic notion of ""f~ad'ynChinese. In an edict approved by Pope Cfement XI in 17004, it was fc3rbidden for Cathc~lics to use eitl-rerShang--tior T?z'en, but T3i.renchuchiaclis t~sedin Catholic translation.4

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Ancrther andent component of Chinese belief was geomancy, literafly fe~g-shuI (wind and water), a belief in an affecthe relationslzip between lanci forms and the lives that were led upon them. Until recently all Chinese cc-tnstructicsn,from humble dwetlings to pataces and temples, were built only after the site had been prctperXy located by a geomancer (yi~yangtzsiet~shetzg);the orientation of the structure on the site was also a matter to be decided by geomancy, although the frcrnt door normally faced south, The heafth and waXth of a hrnity was believed to depend upon the favorabfe geommtic location where one lived anci where one would be buried. Christian missionaries were notoriously uninterested in geomantic beliefs. They built churches, and other structures, anyhere. A constant source col friction, the point became incenciiary when foreigners bmuglzt extensive railroad construction to China late in the 19th century; One ccrmmrrn belief was that missionaries were kidnapping or buying Chinese infants to be sacrificed and buried along the ri@ts-ofway as a magical protection for the railroad, Shamanism (wz~)has also been a major ingredient of religious belief. The human organism was seen to be in total dependence tzpon the environment in geomantic and in dietary terms as wll. One aspect of the system was the division of the casmological unity into a duality rang and yin,' k n g included the sun, brightness, and day; the moon, darkness, and night were yin, Miomen and all femate animals were yin, males were yycangr; although each category partook of the other. The less yarzg a man had, the less manty he wrzld be and similarly, the more yarigwctman had, the more manlike qualities she would show, Aff h o d s had different amounts of yang and y k ; too much of- one or too little of the other could produce illness, Beyond diet and environment, lzumans and all living things were part of a single cosmological totality The system, needless to say, w s quite complex and many missionaries ignored it or treated it with contempt and made no effort to understanci it, YlrzlViang atso pertains to the Chinese concept of health and medicine, and to the pharmacopoeia, It was precisely in this medical area that the missionaries scored possibly their greatest success. In 1835, Peter Parker, a Protestant from the United States, opened an ophthalmic clinic in Canton. Subsequently, the medical missic-tnarybecame the focus of the Christianizing effort, T12e legacy of medical missionaries in China is gl-eat; many of the targest lzospi~als,suc11 as Beijing Hospital and its associated medicaf school, are the reorganized and re-staffed versions ofthe missionary-built institutions, In education as weU, the missionary influence has been marked, This is true at all educational levels, but particularly at the ccrllegiate level. Some of China" most respected uni-trersities are the descendants of missionary colleges. Returning to Chinese religious belief antecedent to the advent of the missionaries, f should note that much, if not all, of the previously mentioned belief systerns were fashioned into one coherent philosophy by Laotzrr about 2300 years ago. That plzilasoyhy, known as Tdoism, gave rise to the religion of- the same name, A century earlier the rise of the philosophy called Confucianism had alst:, become a religion fc~rsome people, Taoism stresses the indiv-iduat'ssnneness with

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nature and the universe, whereas Ccjnfucian concerns, in contrast, are with government, social ordel; and morality, Relations between Confucianism and Taaism have sometimes been disturbed. At various times, Confucian ministers of state have branded Titotsm as heterodox, subversive of Chinese ways ~zfthought and life, despite tlze Fdct tlzat it is a local Chinese product. The Conhcianists view Christianity as a much more dangerous heterodc~xdoctrine. A central issue here has to do with Confucianism as a religion, Confudus himself was primarify concerned with human society, Nevertheless, lze frequently afludes to t'z'erz and to ti (another word that can be translated as "god"") The usage, as we have seen, is basicatiy that of late Chou, For Ccjnfucius, however, the groper relationship between men and gods was ceremonial; prayer had a minor or nonexistent rote. Ironicatly, however, Confucius has been treated, eubemeristicafly, as a god. However, most Confucians have betonged to the masses; few members of the iitera.fr have had format ties to the religious cult of Ccznfucius. Now let us consider the history of Christianity, more especially of its missionaries in China. The first sect to reach China, the Nestorian, prc~bablycame from Syria, across central.Asia, but exactfy when is not clear, Certainly by 671 there was a community of Pu'estarian Christians in Sian, h r there is a large Nestorian stele there bearing that date, with an inscription engraved in Syrian, as well as Chinese (Latourette 1929:52), Tl-rough the Mestorians are known to have supported missionary activities, it is not certain tlzat those activities were directed at Chinese subjects; it is more likely that they were directed at krsians, Arabs, and various central Asians. By the 8th century the presence of foreigners of Near Eastern or European derivation was not rare, particularly in large cities, such as Sian, R k n g , and Canton, where they had arrived by caravan and by sea. It does not seem that Islam coufd have spread east so rapidly, but there is a story that Mohammed's uncle is buried in Canton. Islam would not begin to attract large numbers of ccrnxrts until the 13th century; during the time of Gengbis K11an (Parker 1910:141- t 42). While Islam arrived Xater, its place was more secure, Of Islam, Parker says: "(It) is the anty Faith tlzat lzas come to stay, and has taken deeper roots than any other foreign teaching? (Parker 1.910:140). m e n the Mongols finally breached the Chinese defenses and established their awn Yuan dyx~asty,tlze Nestarians accompanied tl-tem. Fox: centuries, Christians had drcjpyed from Chinese records. Either there w r e none still in the country, or their numbers were so small as to be of no significance, It was the same with the few Jews who seem to have entered in tlze 9th century. Afl of these obscure sects were often classified by the Chinese as cults of Buddhism. It was during the Y L I ~ ~ that Marco Polo jived in China, often in Cambufec, as Pelcing was then known. About 30 years after Polo returned to Venice, the first Catlzotic missionary, fcslzn of Montecorvino, reached China in 1294 (Latourette 1929:68), coming by the same route as Polo, his father, and uncle, He found the Mongol court showing a certain Pdscination for religion. TI-tough tlzey preferred their owls slzamanism, specialized to a point where the court shamans were hll-time practitioners, indistinguishable from priests except: by the content of their beliefs>the Mongols

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seemed to collect religions and showed interest in a variety of intellectual problems. Soon after his arrival, John of Montecorvino counted an O n g ~ sub-H~an ~t amrrng his ccrnxrts, The Ongut converted frc~mWestorianism bringing many of his relatives, although after his death, they left Christianity, The first Spanislz and Portug~~ese ships reached China either in 1514 or 1515, in the middle of the Ming dynasty (1368-1604 A.D.). At that time and for half a century longer, the Chinese showed no interest whatsoever in the Europeans who came from the sea. But the Portug~~ese were especially interested in Chinese trade and ccrntinued to make slight improt~ementsin their position. Finally, they were given their own toehold in the maintand, a place not too far from Canton where they built a tawn that later became a small city, Macao. The Chinese apparently betiexd that they could ccrnfine Christian religious activity to this area. By the middle of the 16th century Catholic interest in China had grc)wn, yarticularty in the sea route to Cathay but connections were still frail, Francis Xavler had died aboarcl a Portuguese slzip awaiting permission to XaacZ. In 1582 permission w s given to two missionary priests, one of them the famous Matteo Ricci, to journey from the southeast to the capitol. A number of ccturtiers became friendfy with Ricci, one of tlle best educated prociucts of tlze Italian city-states at that time. A man of science, he was most skilled in astroncrmy, a science in which China then excelled, Rlcci did not neglect his missionary wctrk, but attended to it primarily by writing theological works in Chinese, in which he became proficient (Spence 19841, Ricci died in China and his funeral, which was perhaps more Cbinese than EuroyeanlGatholic, typified his attitude towards the country. To him, prcjbahly more than to any one man, was due the attempt to adjust the

Christia~lfaith to its Chinese er~vironmentwhich was h e r to bring about the famous rites contrc>versy.He apparently SW that if Christia~litywas ever t~ have any iarge piace in China either the culture and instit~~rions of the catzntry mtzst be modified or the Churcll must in part acijust Its teachings and practices to Chinese life [Latourette 1929:98j.

By the late-16th century, the missionary policy of the Catholic Church in China was firrnty set. Missionary effort was concentrated upon royalty and members of the gentrylliterad. Conversions were also reported among lower-class individuals, but received less attention and probably were a side product, the ccrnverts being tenants, or servants of wealthy families that had attracted the missionaries? attention. The closing years of Ming were lzaypy for the Catholics except for f 616 and 1624 when severe measures were directed at Cl~ristianity. New charges of hetercrdcrv were raised and the Church was accused of being on tlze side of rebellious movements, sucll as White Lily? then current (Latourette 1929:103). Tb protect itself, the gcrvernment remot~edthe Catholic missionaries from Peking to Nanking and sent them to Canton, or Macao, often in cages, Meanwhile, as inclicated, a controversy lzad been b ~ ~ i l d i namong g different Catholic missionaries, in which the sects or mrrnastic orders were all embroiled. The struggle is known as the controversy of the rites, On one side were those

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who, like Matteo Ricci, w r e willing to make substantlaf absorptions of Chinese traits and complexes. That was the position of most Jesuits. On the otlzer side stood those willing to tolerate only a minimum of change in traditional Catholic doctrine, These were mainly the Franciscans and Dominicans, A central problem concerneci the translation of tlze word ""God'ynto Chinese. As we have seen, the concept of heaxnly spirit {t?zen ti) was avoided because of the assctciation of ti with the animistic pantheon. The preferred term was r'ilen cku, which means heavenly lord. Another problem had to do with the Catlzolic attitude toward ancestc>rworship. The Jesuits were willing to look the other way; the others were not. This was a serious prctbtem because the gentrflliterati, targets of the missionary effort, constructed their lives around tlze veneratian of the ancestors. In the most immediate way rrne's patrilineal forebears were seen as largely responsible for one's acchiexments in life and the happiness and security of the family and the lineage. Indeed, the ancestors prctvided lineage coherence, This ideology affected not merely the ruling class but much of the peasantry as well. Those in miserable circumstances looked to the ancestc>rsfor assistance and help. iXeIated to the questicrn of ceremonies honoring ancestors was the problem of participation by Catholics in cerfain rites of a theological nature. One set of:tlzese were explicitly Confucian, comprising rituals and sacrifices carried out at C o n k clan temples on Ccrnfuciusk birthday. Could a Catholic become involved in this honoring of tlze sage, or would that smack of idolatry? This fed to yet anatlzer bundle of problems. m a t about participation in civilltheological rites! Chinese cities and towns had their city gods whose birthdays were celebrated with elab~3rate ceremonies. Evm if some well-to-do members of the community might not participate in all of the activities, they were expected to share in the expenses. Were such. donations Christian? Other problems concerned tlze matter of btlriats. During much of Chinese history, members of the gentry and richer peasants shunned what might be called cemeteries. As with the location of any structure, the geomancer wcjuld ritually determine an individual site for tlze grave, of w11ich there were various styles associated with different geographical regions. Over much of the ccruntry, hc>wel.er, graves were iargely individual and involved large mounds, which might occupy good crop lanci. Beyond this, the actual condrtct of: tlze btlriaf included elements that different Catholic sects disagreed over. In 1645, the Ctrngregation for the Propagation of the Faith in Rome, with papal approval issued an edict forbidding Chinese rites anci practices of: ancestor worsdzip, local deity worship, and so on. The edict was not well received by the jesuits who attributed its formulation to their absence from those sessions, They agitated for a revision and in 1656 another edict on the subject was more tfo their liking. This only infuriated the canservatixs, who contintzed to keep the matter before the papacy for 50 years. Finally, in 1706, Pope Clement XI issued the final word, His was a conservative stance; Chinese beliefs and practices would not be toterated.6 Etemarkably enough, the fall of the Ming and the rise of the Cb"ing in 1644 saw little disturbance as far as the Catholics were concerned. The most famous mts-

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sionary then in China was Adam Schafl, widely lcnown fcrr casting the best cannons ~ ~ s by e dthe Ming. With the success of: the Mancl~u,Schall simply went to work for the new dynasty.7 Moreover, the last decade of the 17th century was a prelude to the uldmate victory of the conservative, intolerant position of Rome. The number of: converts to Christianity in China during the 17th century is not known. It is estimated that near the beginning of the century there were about 13,000 rising to 100,000 or even a quarter of a million by f 664 f Lamurette 1929:107). As the 17th century drew to a close tlze position of the missionaries and their perscrnal safety was enhanced by the issuing of an edict of toleration by the emperor? Kkang Hsi. F.-Xisposition was close to that shown by the present government of tlze People's Republic of China (PIZC), that is, that Christianity acts as a local faith without significant external ties, Chinese churches being considered autonomrrus. That may have been K'aang Hsi's view of Christianiv but it was not close to reality, The Jesuits might have appeared to fit the defintticrn but, of course, they were as tightly attachecl to Rome as the other sects. In 1725, Pope Clement XI issued a Bull affirming the conservative position. A papal emissary, sent to explain the Bull to K%ng Hsi, arrived in Pelting in f "720,K'ang Hsi was not amused and made clear his low opinion of:the whole matter; as far as he was cancerned, it was a porridge of heterodoxy, beneath the consideration of the throne. Meanwhile, the Jesuits and other missionaries of "liberal" prsuasion continued to influence the papal legate who ultimately conceded ""eight permissinns'"tE-rat went beyond the earlier Tesuit view and now even included the right to keep ancestral tablets, if an attached note indicated that they symbctlized the ancestors and did not provide a seat for their souls, It was also permitted to place plates of food and other c~bjectsbefore the tablets on the ground, these being considered symbols of the importance of cctntinued family unity and harmony rather than idolatrous sacrifias (Latourette 1929:148-149). But the rites controversy was not settled. The debate continued and only reached finafity with the Bull Ex llle Die of:Benedict XiV in 1742. This reversed the ""eight permissions" and reiterated the preclominantty Dominican and Franciscan view. [The problem was never dealt with formally by Protestantism, though Protestants faced similar prctbEems at local levels. I must say, however, that in my experience, Protestant missionaries in the middle of the 20th century invariably shc~wedan even more conservative stand on these issues than Cathc~lics.] Kbng Hsi died in 1722 after a reign of 61. years, He was succeeded by Yuan Cheng wl~oserule started with no particular difficulties far Christians. Tlzis wotzld soon change. Indeed, it seems that throughout his life Uuan Cheng hetd the Chrisdans in poor regard. During his reign it became clear that missionary activity was not considered suitable throughout China bat should be confined, once again, to the region about Macao and perhaps Canton. Churches built without proper Chinese enabling documents were demolished or turned to other, non-Christian, uses. Throtzgh the reign of Yuan Cheng and that of his successclr, Ch'ien Lung, (1 736-96) the persecution of Chrisdans was common. Chinese converts received

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poor treatment, and same Europeans were killed, particularly when they were found in parts of China where they were not permitted to stay. Curiously, a community of European Catholics continued to thrive in F"ekng, some of' its members holding prestigious positions in scientific circlfes. X n the closing years of Ch"ien Lung's life tlze Engfish dispatclzeci a special legation to the Chinese court to attempt to secure broader rights to trade. Macartney, head of that mission, was bemused by his treatment. The Chinese wanted him to realize that lze, lzis people, and their sovereign were mere outer barbarians to tlzeir Chinese and Manchu hosts, The message sent back to George the Third w s in the same tone. Ch'ien Lung understood that Britain wanted " e x many wnderful tlzit~gsfor which China was known, but what could they give in return?g Macartney bad ncr answer, The British quickly dewloped one, however-opium (see Moulder 1977). As the 19th century matured, wcjrlcl conditions underwent vast change, Fullscale manuf~cturingdeveloped in the context of capitalism and imyeriafism, With new technologies, naval and land ccrmbat altered. NOW,relatively small European forces could crush much larger Chinese armies, On water, there was no contest. Related to commercial changes was the gmwtl~of interest, first in Protestant Europe and then in the United States, in the extensic>nof Protestant beliefs into Asia and, of course, China, The first Protestant missionary knowla to have arrived in China was the Englishman Robert Morrison, who came in the first decade of the 17th century. Ambitious to be a missionary, he had studied the language with a Chinese tutor, Traveling via the tmited States, he called on lames Madisan, then Secretary of State, who give him a letter of' introduction to the perscrn carrying on ccrnsular affairs in Canton. At that time these duties were not the responsibility of a diyfomat bat were undertaken by prominent American traders. Though restricted in their mt>-vementsto an area immediately contingent on Canton and Macao the number of missionaries was steadily growing, Most of the Protestants were from EnglancZ. Arnang their early accomplishments was a translation of both the Qfd and New Testaments into Chinese. Actually, the translation, done outside of China and involvi~zgno Chinese, was considered very crude and probably confirmed the low impression most of:tlze literati lzefd of Christians, Until the beginning of the 19th century, Chinese women had posed a problem for Catholics. Open social relations between missionaries and women were looked upon with dispavor. Nevertlzefcss, there were women among tlze converts, often members of ci)n-trerted families. Quite o&en such m m e n remained tznmarried, a sore point for non-Christians. The w m e n became lay ftzrnctlonaries of tlzeir churches, often taking care of the orphans who were being left to this or that church. From this beginning, there developed a large ntzmber of orphanages operated by missionaries, but staffed extensivefy by fernate converts, Early Nortl~American activity on behalf of the Protestant missionaries in China supycrrted the British efforts, although it was not tzntijf 1839 that the first American missionary, David Abeel, arrived, His actual China residence was short.

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lteturning to the United States, Abeel became the leading spokesman for missionary effort, gaining special attention for his lectures to largely female audiences, some of whose members joined a mclvement t~ the Orient, This was not the only innovation brought by the Protestants, Although the Catholics had an interest in tlze health of tl-teir missionaries and tlzeir converts, and had intmduced such things as the tzse of quinine in the treatment of malaria, it was not until the arrival of the American Protestants that full-Qedged medical missionary wctrk begm. The formal start was with Peter Parker, mentioned above, who built the first missionary hospital. There were soc->nmany others, not merely in the CantonMacao area but in alX the other treaty ports,%and in many of the areas where the missionaries tlzearetically lacked permission ta go. The gl-eat value of the dispensaries and hospitals to the missionaries should be made explicit, Non-Christians tznder treatment were made quite aware that they owed their recc~veriesto Christianity. However, the Protestant doctor was troubled that some of his patients continued to consult doctors of Chinese meclicine and even shamans (z~u).~~ In addition to service as a missionary and a doctor, Parker spent years trying to influence United States policy toward China. One of the last nondiplomats to hold consular office, he lzeld the position probably because he was a relative of then Secretary of State, Daniel Webster. Parker constantly advised the United Stakes to ixtcrease its inkrests and activities in China, urging the establishn~entof a foothold in Hong Kong or Macao (W. Calzen 1971:12, 17). Few, if any, missionaries had such immediate ties to persons in power in Washington as did IJarker (although it is significant that his more ji~lg~~istic ideas seem to have been given little atteattan). But Parker fitted the image of tlze missionary held by most members of the gentryltiterati, who saw them not merely as heterodcrx but as tied to potitical and military power. Thougl~the Catl-totic missionaries are known primarily for their work in bringing Western culture to China, it was they who began the systematic ccrmyilation of informa"eon about China that w u f d became sinotogy. Although few of tlzeir publications until the f 9th century would be in Englislz, they nevertlzeless contributed to the disciplines W now identify as the humanities and the social sciences. The Catholics had as one of their early canwrts a literatus named Hsu K~~ang-cWi who willed the Jesuits part of his eseate in Zikawei, near Shanghai, a place that was to beccrme the center of Cathc~licscholarship in China, the site of their press, which published a great many outstanding works on China until the early 1 9 5 0 ~ ~ P~zblicationsin Engtish awaited the latter half of the 19th century and the inAuence of the Protestants, Amang the English pioneers were former missistnaries like lames Legge, who encied his career as Professor of:Chinese at Oxhrd. During his life he was an outstanding translator and commentator on the m r k s of Gonfucius and Mencius, as wX l as a variety of other classics, It must be emphasized, however, tlzat most missionaries had little or no knowledge of: tlze intricacies of Chinese culture and many could read little Chinese, even if they became fairly Auent speakers of local dialects.

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The early interaction between the missionaries and the gentrylliterati had at least one major consequence tlzat still plagues Western understancling of China. The world view of the gentrylliterati became the basis of the West's understanding of China, influencing the European madel of Chinese society. For example, it is often assumed that the tqical Clztnese Fdmily is extmcled, with many children in each generation. Of course, extended families existed, with a patriarch ruling the component nuciear groups, which enjoyed no financial and little psychological independence. But tl-tey occurred mainly among the gentry2and in the Southeast. Wl~ilesome sinologists still cling to various aspects of the ""extended family" view (see Hsu 1969), at least in theory, even poor peasants being seen as having and cl-terishing tlze value of the large, eaended family, another view, which sees the nucfear family as the preferred form {Fei 1946; Fried 1952) began to be heard in the 1940s and 50s, This view makes much more comprehensible the dynamics of Chinese family life, particularly since the Communist revolution, By endorsing tlze gentry view of China, tlze missionaries provided models tl-tat were to lead to difficulties for modern sinologists. The middle third of the f 9th century was in some respects the most criticaf period that China Eras gone through with respect to the West. TI.roug1-t some aspects of later times, such as the Boxer period, might seem worse, the later troubles find their origins in the mid- 19th antury. The period in question began just decades after the Macartney mission lzad been rejected as a mission of:barbarians, and developed with Cl~ineseefforts to interdict the mushrooming British trade in opium, leading trt war, The fteeble and totally inadequate Chinese forces were crushed, Military engagements witl-t otl-ter Etlropeans, which. resulted in the slaughter of the Chinese, destabilizd the southeast, But there was also trouble in the north, where the Ch"ing dynasty experienced mare than a decade of internal war; aftlzough the help of the foreigners kept the dynasty going for another 50 years. Missic>naryinfluence was beliexd to be a major @actorin the reactionary development. Two rebellions, the Faiping and Nien, destroyed much of: China in the middle of the 19th century, The former is of special interest to this paper because it Aowed from the personal beliefs of the Hung Hsiu-ch"uan, a Hakka who inspired and fed the rebellious movement until its defeat and cotlapse, Hung, while never a Christian convert, had received some Protestant instruction, a version of which was motded into the Taiping idectlogy, One point was quite clear. Hung regarded himself as sacred, the younger brother of Jesus Christ. Most missionaries would probably have been happy with such a statement, prc~videdit had been offered as a metaphor. Hung meant it literally Soon missionaries originally attracted to the Christian aspects of the movement, including some who visited Hung personally, disowned him and loudly proclaimed his lack of connection with Christianity. Nevertheless, the Tgipings showed increasing miiklrary strength, especially considering the extremely poor state of the national and provindal forces. The struggle went on for more than ten years, reaching central China from its origins in the Southeast. For a time, the Taiping capital was Nanking, Taiping is fascinacng in

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many respects, not least because its prctgrarn anticipated the Maoist program, including not only ideas about the structure of the economy, but tlze roles of women and the structure of the family, Even before the final campaigns of the Taiping Xtebellion, the Europeans had extracted permission for missionaries to set up in China whe~revertl-tey wislzed, The key agreement was ccrncluded with the French gotpernment in 1860, The government was then concerned primarily with Catholic acdviv, but through the "most fdvored nation clause" actions applyhg to French Catholics also applied to Christians of other nationalities. The rapid fanning out of the missionary effort that followed increased the already deep feeling of resentment among bcttl-r peasants anci gentry. Riots and tlze lynching of converts became widespread. Among the ccrnstantty repeated charges were assertions that Chinese eyes, particularly from babies, were missionary delicacies or had European alchemical uses. A wide variety of sexual perversions and an aversion to civitized Chinese society were also believed characteristic of foreign barbarians." Following the Taiping trctubles, Christian missionaries hastened the pace of conversion while attempting in various ways to ensure that the converts were serious. For the most part, few such conversions itlvofved the very poor, in an attempt to avoid ""rice Christians," The gentry, its literatus component in particular, was fundamentally opposed to Chrisdan ideology and took every opportunity to make their opposition felt, It can be misleading, Izowevex; to characterize one segment of Chinese society as more anti-Christian than another. Furthermore, although the hostility was primarily anti-Christian, it had other targets as wll. The overt rebellions may have been quelled, but rebeXIious sentiments were common everyhere, Adherents of Christianiv were easily identified in the cities and in the countryside, But aspects of Miesternism having nothing to do with Christianity were also resented, As indicated, the most widely seen menace was the building of railroads, changing local geomantic conditions, Many missionaries saw the coming of the new technology as a Christian boon and their attitudes exacerbated the Chinese hostility toward them. The climax came in 1900 when a secret society, the I Ho Tuan, better k n o m as the Boxers, erupted into violence, carrsing the Empress Dowager to flee to the Chinese west as Chinese mobs menaced all Europeans in Peking. The European and American response was quite bloody. The toll on the Boxer side is unknctwn but on the other side it was minimal, including 46 Cathotic foreigners and about 146 Protestants. The number of: Chit~eseChristians kiZleci or injured was mucl-t larger but is again tznknown, Deaths and injuries occurred atper much of China where there were Christian missions or other institutictns. W e n the plzysicaf violence subsided; China was fcjrced to pay indemnities by most ofthe European nations concerned. Actions were brotzght in Chinese court by missionaries and others who had suffered personal losses. The United States involved itself in the proceedings tlzat led to indemnity bat the damages, rather than being taken as spcrils, became a national ""rJ~xerFund" that w s tzsed tc>bring subsequent generations of Chinese students to American colleges and unlversi-

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ties, The fund was used for that purpose until the mainland collapse of the Republic in 1949. The CWing dynasty lasted barely ten years after the Boxer troubles and w s succeeded by the Itepubfic, except for brief periods dominated by attempts to return to imperial structrzre. The early Fars of the century produced many revolutionaries, most of whom were bitterly antimissionary (Rankin 19"71), Consciously antiChristian movements arose such as Ti chu chiuo, the ""Fmily Lord Religion," which took its name as a deliberate counter to the Catlzofics, 7""el.r chu chiao (Kankin 1971:133, cf. 148). However, the nonmonarchist ccrnservatives who were mtzcb more sympathetic to Christianity usually held power, Missionary activiv spread beyond anytl~ingseen before. No part of Clzina was too remote for a mission or other Christian institution. Shanghai and then other cities became the sites of major Protestant institutions such as the Salvation Army and the %ung Men" (and Young Women") Christian Assodation. Life for the Christians in China generally settled clown, but occasional violent episodes still occurred in isofated localities, particularly during the years and in the regions, dominated by "warlords." %>meof these independent generals made no secret of their anti-Christianity while others, like Feng Yu-shan, the ""Christian general,'" made capital of their "Christianity. Starting seriously in the 1920s, the Chinese Communist Party established itself as the best organized anti-Christian force that China had ever seen. The published work of Mao %e Tung and other Chinese Communist leaders lack specific denunciations of missionaries and Christianity; Mao thought so little of them that mention prohabfy seemed unnecessary, Nevertheless, the major thought is clear; Christianity contributed some part to the ""smi-colonial, semi-feudal" mix that was Chinese society prior to the Communist IPevc>lution.Local conditions became ctxtremely difficult for all missionaries regardiess of sect. Many missicznaries reaiized tlzat the Communists were totally antagonistic, and they frequently left just before the victorious Commtznists entered. Those who stayed were subjected at first to harrassrnent that included seizure of bczoks and papers, or dispossession. Few of their congregations would brave being seen going to church. In a remarkably short time, few foreign Christians remained on the mainland. As many Chinese Christians as coufd manage it Aed to Tgiwan. Long before Taiwan was taken by the Japanese in 1895, Christianity lzad made its appearance there. In the 17th century, the original missionaries had been Dutch, but it is not clear whether the Cl-rinese had been their objective, The efforts were probably aimed only at the non-Chinese aboriginals coliectively called the kao shun chu. These Matayo-potynesian speakers were then in the majority; few Chinese had yet come, But, by " e x end of the f 9th century 'biwank enlarged Chinese population provided a major target for both tlze Catholics and the Protestants. Much success w s had by medical missionaries, and some major hospitals on Taiwan today bear the names of their missionary founders, such as the Mackay Hospital in tlze heart of downtowla Tdigei. Although missionary activity is still carried on by foreigners, a good deal of the Christian work invcrlves only native Chinese, If the church concerned has a hier-

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archy, its officers are Chinese or it is dominated by them. Some of the Protestant Churches belong to sects it-titiated by Chinese, ancl have only indirect. association with ft->reignclerics or missionaries, Against the foregoing background, both in mainland China and Taiwan, it is appropriate to raise a question of pressing practical, ethnographic, and tlzeoretical interest. Mihy has the spread of Christianity in Chinese culture been so limited? Is xenophobia a basic cause? If so, why has Buddl-rism done so much better? 81tlzouglh, as we have seen, Buddlzism has been in Clzina for many more centuries, it, too, is of foreign deri~ationand it reached a reascsnable proportion of converts in much less time than did Christianity. Moreover, China was at least as disturbed at tlze encl of:Ch'ing as it was at the end of Han, More likely the matter has to do wirl-t the ccsntent of the religions and their respective openness to Chinese adaptation, a prrint cfearly seen by the late 16th-century churchman, Matteo Ricci. For Buddl-risrn, adaptability wctrked in at least two ways. First were changes in content; none more profotlnd tl-tan the admission to the Buddlzist pantheon of: elements from Chinese belief. The other was the transformation of non-Chinese into Chinese beings, most conspicuous in the physical changes in the appearance of Buddha ancl tlze bodhissatvas. One of tlze most startling tr;2nsformations occurred in Avalokitesvrtra, a male bodhissatva who became the fernale f i g r e Kuan Uin and the prottective deity of pregnancy and childbirth. No change is seen, on the other hand, in Jesus Christ, w l ~ oremains male ancl "white.'"elated to this is the long delay>particularly in Cathcslicism, in pramrsting native Chinese tcr positic>nsof clerical authority. Although that is now largely remedied, the increase in the numbers of Christians is still minimal in Taiwan ancl possibly declining on the mainland. It is not merely with respect to its pantheon that Christianity has failed to accommodate to the Chinese scene. Other Christian poticies have failed to change, even though tlzose poficies lzave aroused Chinese ire for generations. Several of these totzch on the nature of the domestic unit, Frequently at the center of Chinese cornplaints has been the general emphasis in Christianity on the rofe of the individual. Altl-tough whofe Families or even tineage subsections might convert to Christianity, the usuaf process saw individuals do it one at a time. Such conversions could stir paternal hostility and wrath, particufarly if they tnvofved a son defying lzis Pather. Young women might become Christians to avoid arranged marriages. ' 2 As we have seen, tlze negative Christian attitudes towads ancestors as objects of veneration is also a source of:hostility. The act of looking abmad fix tlzeological guidance is, in addition, a considerable source of friction, although as noted, both in Taiwan and the PRC, Chinese theological autonomy is paramount. Some biblical doctrine has also been seen as problematic. The idea that Jesus' father was not his sire has bothered many Chinese, who regard Tsseph as the cuckold of god and therefore supremely ridiculous, The notion of a virgin giving birth is also widely regarded as ixnprobable. Other reasons for the Christian lack of popularity incfude a certain predilection for missionaries to go to court for members of their Rock. This often meant

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not merely pressing a case, but showing up in person and demanding satisfaction, to tlze consternation of the magistrate and other members of the gentry Law in preindustriaf China was ovemhelmhgly penal in nature, and thus vas not concerned with civil matters nor with the rights of the individuals, Chinese traditionally avoided legal recourse as much as possible, preferring other meclzanisms for resolving conflicts. Sexral prot~erbsattest to the unpopularity of the legal system: ""Win your lawsuit and lose your maney,'knd ""OF ten reasons by whiclz a magistrate may decide a case, nine are tlnhown to the pubtic'"(quoted in Bodde and Morris 1970:94). Although by going to court, missionaries often gained converts, the gain was c-tpportunistic,and every convert w n w u f d mean that a host of enemies had been acquired. The final act of: this particular drama occurred when the missiclnaries achiexd extraterritoriality, something that was never accomplished by the Buddhists, This enabled them to stand outside of local law, again with a terrible effect on the concerned Chinese populace, All information considered, China seems unlikely ever to see Christianity accepted by a significant segment of the poptzlation. That shorzld be the case regardless of directional changes of the mainland government. Meanwhile, missionary activity continues in Taiwan, but with small results, Borlz in Taivuan ancl on the mainland many are agnostics who give no heed to religion in any form. In Taiwan, the most visible religious festivities are the pui pui, or celebrations of: a. tineage or community honoring shen or ancestors, Will such ceremrrnies return to the mainland, especially to the southeast, where they used to be so common? The attempt to control popufation growth on the mainland could, if successfuf, help suppress the paipai by reducing the aggregates of active relatives. But the reverse is more likely and the shen could rise again. No similar dynamic seems to bcode any change in the lack of interest shown toward Western religions. To finish. this artide on this note expresses my view, but does not indicate that there is substantial opinion to the contrary, at least with respect ttr the fate of Christian religions in China. Though foreign missionary efforts are dead on the maintancl, Cl-tristianity is not. Where I see a. moribund Christian community, other sinofogist-anthr~>pcrlogists~ particularly a colleague who has visited the PRC many times in recent years, beXieve that Christianiv is showing considerable vitality in China, more so than Buddhism, especially. in the cities. This opinion, which to my knowledge has not been expressed in print, links Christianity with modernization in Chinese eyes and betie~~es that continua"eicznof Deng Xiaoping"~line will see its further spread. The return of: anytlzing like Mao %edongism or ""Gang of Fourn-ism, on the other hand, would mean Christianity" disappearance. Personat experiences often shape one's soutiook on the future. W e r e a s my friend" assessment was influenced by the predictions of officelzofding party members, my opinion derives in large part from having witnessed, on both of my recent trips to the PRC, not onfy an increase tar, the Buddhist: clergy but a large number of old people, mainly women, praying at Buddhist temples, often in charge trf one or two children to whom they were teaching the prayer ceremonial ) presentation of incense. flelegations of Buddhists and Budbcow (K'ou ~ ' o uancl

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dhist clergy from Japan were also receiving extraordinary attention in varic~us places, Similarly, my attitude towarcis the continued popularity of Chinese, but non-Christian, refigian has been affected by my research into clan asscrciations, The men of 40 and 50 with whom X talked invariably spoke of their kars that tlzeir sons (never their daughters) were totally t~ninterestedin tlze clan. They expected theirs to be the last generation to show such inwlvement. But the older men, those of 70 and 80, would chuckle when I raised the issue, swing thawhen tlzese 40 and SO-year-old men were cllifdren, they had shown the same negatke attitudes, only to change with middle age. It m u l d go on. The same could not be said about Christianity. Finally, anci perlzaps most important, my views about the future of Christianity in China are shaped by the recc~llectionsf have of fieldwcrrk there shortly after the end of Wortd Mrjr If and, subsequently; in Taiwan amrrng htka ch'izaa, the overseas Chinese, Chkhsiear, in the east-central province of Anhwi, was the site of my first extended fieldwork. Xt had both Protestant anci Catholic churches. The Cathrrlic church had a very 01d Italian priest who had been in China throtzgh the recent war and may have been there since the first world war, I never asked him. He was ill while I was there and X rarely. saw him, though I called on lzirn kcrorn time to time, The afgairs of the locaf Catholic church were handled by a staff that was largely Chinese. A few young European priests, mainly XtaIians, were on the staff, but they were rarely seen about town. It seems that little proselytization was tznder way. There w r e also twct fcjreign Protestants, a young Texas couple, They arrived shortly after X did to fake up the leadership of a cl1urcl-t tl-tat had been establisheci in Cwuhshien in the closing decades of the 19th century. This church had seen bitter conAict during the Boxer period and its American pastor had been killed, m e t h e r that was a source of worry for the two Texans X cannot say, but they seemed uncomfortable in this environment, and all tor->sensitive to local food. However, their main problem concerned whether their Chinese converts were sincere or merely ""rce-Christians," people attracted by economic benefits, The impression f formed (and stiH hold) was that Christianity was of very little importance to the vast majority of people of Chhhsien, regardless of their social status, except for a small bulge among the poorest, who tended to be rzan-mz'n or refugees from the civil war, people who tried to make soup out of what domestic animals had left behind. Though I visiked a great many homes during the more tlzan 16 months X lived in Ch'rt I never entered one that I fr~uncito display a crucifix or a picture of Jestzs, except when X paid visits ttr kncrwn members of the Catholic or Prcrtestant churches, Instead, the homes s h o w d evidences of other Faiths, mainly in lzaving one room with a table, occasionally a Chinese altar, t.,aden with ceremonial objects including an incense burner, one or more ancestral tablets, idols, and backed by pasted up Taoist or Brrddhist lithographs. One or two images of Buddlza or Kuan Yin were frequently to be seen. There was a Buddhist religious complex on the nearby Lang Ya Sl~an(Lang Ya Mountain) cornprising a temple and a monastery, and Buddhist monks were commonly seen in

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town, seeming to have nct contact with the Christian religion. There was also a Taoist temple, right in the urban area that seernecl to do rather poorly. t>uringmy visits there no townspeople were present. In contrast, on my frequent visits to the Buddhist temple I wctuld always see wctrshiypers, although they never acted as a congregation. Instead, the worshippers apyroacl~ecltlze sanctuaries ancl the idols individually, bought sacrificial items, mainly incense, from sellers just outside the main gate and then made their indlviduat devotions. On one particular day, the fifth day of the fifth lunar month (wu yuek clzieh), a day believed to lzave vital significance for the lives and the heafth of yc>ungchildren and infants, people paid unusual attentictn. 'Taoist priests could be seen walking around town in their soiled and tattered robes, clutching sfzeaves of crude cloth rectangles Llpon which were silk-screened remarkable designs shcwing the plagues, ns~xiorzsanimals, and insects, each representing a disease or crippling condition beliexd to be ready tc> strike any baby not protected by wearing one of these crude cloths, The chief Taoist priest, a. tail thin man with unusually penetrating eyes wandered tlzrougl-t Cb"u, parting with the pieces of fabric and receiving donatistns from passers-by. I saw few, if any souk brave enctugh to avctid the purchase, and though I kept no records of the event, I was sure that Christians were among lzis customers. Wl~etherthey subsequentfy made use of their purchases, I regret I cannot say. I never saw a funeral conducted by either Christian church in CVu. But other funerals were frequent ancl a few were quite grancl. Invariably the non-Christian funerals included major contingents of Buddhist nuns and priests, chanting sutras and parading to the grat~esitesin processions that included ~ c ort three Chinese bands and scores of people hired to carry tlze payer goods that would be set afire at the grave. The Catholic Church has nothing that rivals a Chinese funeral, and certainly neither do the Prcttestants. It is hard to imagine, in other wctrds, on what base a. revitalizecl Christianity could btlild,.

1. The same thotzght is expressed by socioiogist C, K, Uang ( 1961:18). 2, Qne af the characters signiQirzg heterodow is i, which also includes "hreign" aarnong its meanings. 3. This shang character has no retation to the narne of the dmasry; 4. III the middle of the 19th century, the cl-ru mc>r~~heme wcmld be in the first, rather than the third, tone and that w u l d change its meaning to ""pig" (Cohen 1963:140). 5 , For a discussion of the philosophical conte~ltof yinly~ngsee Fung (1948:12,6). For a discussion of such a belief system in ayeration today, see Rdrerz Hanson (1984). 6 , Note the underlying similarity betcveen the controversy of the rites and the even more yroft2urld diRerences that were debated by 13artolerne de ias Casas and Juarl Gines de Sepuivada in Vailadolid, tlze capital of Spain, in 155l . In that classic debate Sepmivada, the Aristotelian, defended the notion that American Indians, specifically the Inca, who were being destroyed were not quite fully hurnan, hence were horxz to be slaves. Las Casas answered that the Indians, like Sya~liardsand other Et~ropeans,were fully human, should not he slaves, but shorrfd participate h l l y in the sacrament (see Hanke 1957). The Valladoiid

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debate and the rites controversy were two European reactions to the massive contacts with new cultures that resulted from the exzorrnous expal-rsionof tl-reknown world at that time, 7, One of Schall? assignments was calendrical calculation, a job in which he reyiaced a Noslexn predecessor. The hrious Noslerns replied with charges that Schall was guiity of conspiratorial cor~duct,Schall was put in a cell, where he migl-rt have died. Rut a violent eal-thqllak was felt and, sisnilar to the reprieve grm"ted the Connecticut Yankee, Schalf was removed from jail (btourette 1929:115), 8. For a translation of that decree see Schttrrnan and Schell (1367:105-113). "3 Treaty ports: cities along the coast oyet-red to !liestern trade or treaty faitowing the two opium wars of the mid- 19th centttT. 10. As far as is known, shalxans on the mainland have stopped yracticing under great pressure. That Is certainly not true of actxprrnctrxrists and burners of moxa, who are given governmental support, All of these and the shatxans, too, are doing well on Taiwa1-r. 11. For a set of itlustrative plates see Paul Cohen (1963:141-142). 12. 'bZrehad better not p too far with this because Nuddhisrn was o&e11seen as cosnmitting the same offenses, As a matter of fact, in recent Southeast Chinese history, especially is1 Hong Kmg, older married women have been leavis~gtheir hl~sbandsto enter Buddhist "kregetaria1-r ihal9s'"see Topley 1975; Toyley and Hayes 1968).

References 13odde, Derk and Clarence Morris 1970 Basic Concepts of Chinese Law, Itz Traditional China. Jasnes"K C. LIu and Wei-ming RI,eds. Engtewt~odCliffis, NJ: Pre~ltice-Hall. Cohen, Paul E963 China and Christianity: The Missionary Movernenr and the Growth of Chinese Anti-foreignis~n,1800-1890, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, Cohen, Warrerz I. 1971 Atnerica" Resi?onseto Chi~la.New York: John Wiley, Dubs, Horner H. 194.5 Taoism. China. Harley E MacNair, ed. Kerkeley: University of California Press. Fei, Hsaio-tung 1946 13easantryand Gentry: An Interpretatiorz of Chinese Scxial Stnrcture. American Journal of SucioLo&y52: 1. Fried, Morto1-r H, 1952 Chinese Society: Gkass as Subculttlre, Transactions of the New York Academy of Sciences, Series 2, Vol. 24. Fung, Yt-Ian 1948 A Short History of Chinese Pi~ilosophy.New York: Free Press. Hanke, Lewis 1959 Aristotle and the A~nericanIndians: A Study of Race Prejudice in the Modern World, London: Hollis and Carter. Hanson, Karen 1984 DeveIopment: and Preventive Health Rel-rwiors: The Case of Taipei, Taiwasl, Ph.U. disx1-tation. New Ui?rk: Columbia University. Houdous, Lewis 1945 Folk Religion, In China. Harley E MacNair, ed, Berkeley: University of Caiifc~rniaPress. Hsu, Frallcis L, K. 1969 The Study of Literate Civilizations, New York: Holt, Rinehart and 'bZrinstua. Hu Sl-tih 1946 Chinese Thou@t, In China. Warley F, MacNair, ed. Berkeley: University of Caiifornia Press. Latourette, Kenneth Scott 1946 Christianity. 1~ China, Hartey F. MacNair, ed. Nerkefey: University of Caiifoismia Press. 1929A Histc>ryof Christian Missions is1 China. New York: MacMilIan, Legge, James I R98 The Chinese Classics. Reb~rintedin Taipei, Taiwan, r3.d.

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Meadorn, Tbomas TE: 1856 The Chinese and Their Rebelliorzs,Viewed in Connectiorz with Their National Philosophy. Stanfc3rd: Academic Xlepxints ( 1954). Moulder, Frances V. 1977 Japan, China and the kloderxr World: Toward a Reintergretatiorz of East Asia Development, ca. 1600-ca. 1918. Cambridge: Cal-xlbridgeUniversity Presa Parker, Edward H, IN10 China and Religion, Londort: John Mrrrrayy Pillsbuly, Barbara 1973 Collesicitn and Cleavage in a Chinese Muslim Mir~ority,Ph,U, dissertation, New b r k : Columbia University. in Sl~a~l&ai Rankin, Mary N. 1971 Early Chinese KevoLutionaries: Radical Intcllect~~als and Cfrekiarzg, 1902-11. Caxnbridge: Warwad University Press. Schttrman, Fra~lzand Orville Schell, eds, 1967 Imperial China. The Decline of the Last Uynasty and the Origins of Modern China. The 18th and 19th Cetlturies. VoXulne 1 of The China Reader, 3 vtjls. NW York: Virztage. Spence, Jonathan 1984 The Mel-xlory Palace of Mattet3 lticci. NW York: Viking Presa Toptey, Marjorie 1975 Marriage Resistarzce in Rural Kwangtrxng, IB Women in Chinese Society. Margerc)bWolf and Roxanne 'bZritke,eds. Stanford: Stanford University Press. TopIey, Marjorie and fames Hays 19668 Notes orz Some Vegetariaz~Halls in Hong Kong Belonging to the Sect of Hsien-TYea Tao (The bray of Former Heaven). Journal of the Hong Kong 13ratlch of the ltoyctl Asiatic Society 8:f 35-148. 'bZrelch,Holmes 11367 The Practice of Chinese B~lddhism1900-1950. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Wright, Arfhur F. 1959 Kuddhis~nin Cllirzese History. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Yang, CMing-k'un 1967 Religion in Chinese Society. BexkeIey: University of California Press.

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PART TWO Gender and Sexua IT

WAS B A R E L Y A QUA R T E R - C E N T U R Y AGO that Michelle Zimbalist Kosaldo and Louise Lamphere wrote: "The anthroyofogical literat~~re tells us relatively little about women, and provides almost no theoretical apparatus for understanding or describing culture from a wman's point of view" 09.74: vif, This, mind you, despite the unending Fascination with the mytlzologically informed but poorly documented concept of ""matriarchy." Furthermore, the anthropology of religion resonates with the lives of extraordinary Mromen who are woven into the histories ancl mytl~sof all tlze world's religious systems. Throughout the Late 1970s and 1980s, inspired by feminist studies in other areas, schotars of the anthropology of religion documented the femate voice in religious practice, Much of: this literature focused on the t~niclueritual practices of women and their household-centered expression of: refigiaus identity, o&en reAecting a domestic ethnographic realm, Forms of menstrual faboos and female restrictions in tlze pubtic practice of religion dominated tlze etlznographic discussion until very recently; much of this discussion of female seclusion and exclusion analyf~dthese phenomenena as reflecting male-dominakd religious institutions imposing restrictions on krnales. The ant11rc)pologtcai schcrlarship on refigion and gender in this decade has taken a quantum leap F;omard to encompass multiple h r m s of gender identiv, eroticism, gay and lesbian tifestyles, as well as transgendered activities. But even more significant, the gendered nature of religiotzs experience is now fully grounded in the discussion of the political, emnomtc, and soda1 manifestations of gendered religious experience. Women in retigious systems are no longer portrayed as passive recipients of male restrictions but rather as active participants in the mnceptuafizing and fashioning of their sociorefigious identities. And the concept of gender, with its constrtlcted forms of:identity, applies to all members of a society, Therefore, a ntzmber of seemingly disparate topics are discussed in the chapters included in this part-the title of which barely encompasses at1 the complexities and issues. In popular discourse, for example, gerzder and sex tend to be used interchangeably, which confuses already ccrmpticated discussions. Bic>logically spealting, the human species exhibits two sexes, but that is usually not what

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scholars are talking abctut when they use the wctrd gender, For the purposes of this section, the terms rnalcr and fefnafe (plus such additional terms as may be found in different societies, such as gay or lesbian, fiz_jra,or the now contested term herdache) represent cuiturally constructed complexes of beharsior, At tlze heart of many of the papers presented lzere are some important questions about the nature of human identity. Do ""gender distinctions" hplty idetztity only (what you call yourself andlor what others call p u ) , or practices only (the tlzings you do as a member of a gender category), or iulentity plus pmctices? And what are to be the bases of these categories? If "gender" is determined by culturally constructed ""iientity" only, then what are the connections, if any, among and between gendex; anatomy, ancl sexuality? The study by anthropologists of erotic behavior and its connections to other social relationships has a long and ccrnvclfated history, much of it influenced by ethnographic studies of Melanesia. Some of this Iiterature is critiqued by Deborah A. Ellliston in her crossculturaf anatysis of what has come to be referred by anthropologists as ""rtualized homosexuality,"" If gender is viewed primarily as a matter of identity-itber what we chclose to calf ourselves andlor what others insist on calling us-then gender begins tct sound like a variant or even a subdivision of etil.lnicit3 which is usually deffned in exactly the same way, And if that is so, then W are ccrnfmnted by problems about biological dimensions, if any, similar to those plaguing ethnicity, Cctmpare race~~nfortunately still viewecl by many outside of anthropology as a biologically determined categoryi-with ethnicit3 the Auid, changeable, culturally derived category preferred by many anthropologists. Many scholars now suggest that gender is not "in-born" "inlogical) bat is constructed, like etl~ntcity~ by cultural perceptions and categorizations. In contrast, sexuality would seem to imply "practices" that are primarily biological in origin, though even here tile dimension of ""cultural coastructictn" weighs in heavily Our concern here, of course, is primarily with gender and sexuality as they relate to religion. The papers in this section address some of the underlying questions that come to the fore in an analysis of religion from a genclered perspective, Are religious practices in a given society, for example, permitted to one gender and not to others (whatever ""others" are recognized as such in that society)? W ~ e r erestrictions exist (ancl tlzey are found universally), do they illvariably reflect issues of sexuality+)r might they derive from political struggles for dornination or other considerations? How is gender identity constructed-by what perceptions, rituals, dernancls-and how is it maintained? H t w is sexuality permitted, restricted, and interpreted? Does the perception of gender identity and the rules of religious participation change ctver the lifetimes of individuals as they progress through such stages as cl~ildl~ood, adofcscence, adulthood, and old age? These are a few crf the questions raised by all the ccrntributors to this section, particularly by Valentina Mapolitano and Susan Sered in tl-reir discussions, in different ethnngraplzic settings, of life stages and genclered religious constructions. One of the most serious problems in the comparatix study of religion is the unfortunate tendency to impose values and categories deriving from the anthro-

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potogist" culture upon the one being strrdied, An example of particular importance for this section is that of the term taboo (particularly as in "menstrual taboo"")imltmplying an impc~sitiontzpon w m e n of forced separation because of "iimpurli~"czr ""danger" or ""-tferiorityn "or ail three together. Marta Pc~wrs,in her examination of Oglala menstrual rituals, suggests that Western biases obscure the full meanings of these practices, which reflect ct~mplexOgtalta perceptions of reproduction and female life stages. In addition, as many of the chapters in this book suggest, such belzavior on the part of women reflects wurnet.r's interpretations and negotiatic~nsof befief systems, as well as (or even instead of) maledominated instituticznalizat-ion of restrictive practices. We began this introriuctory essay by observing that most etl~nogrmphicaccounts traditionally derived ""religion" "om. the reported beliefs and obserxd practices of men. (Indeed, many accorznts still do.) Nevertheless, in societies (again, mast) in which there is substantial gender separation in the practice of religion, there are ritual, belief, and practice systems for women significantly different from those of men. In a classic paper, David G. Mandelbaurn (1966) proposed that many societies approached religiczn frtzm two quite distinctive perspectives: the "transcenc2ental"-concerned with such large issues as "mainten a n a of the tzni-trersem-and the "pragmaticB-concerned with day-to-day problems such as illness in the family, Mandelbaum argued that the cultural assignment of tlzese two realms in the practice of religion was often a reflection of social hierarchy, specifically as in the case of caste-based restrictions in India. It may wll be, however, that a similar distinction of realm emerges where there is substantial gender restriction. Sered explores additional aspects of:""re domestication of refigion" in her study of elderly Jewish w>menin Jerusalem. Although the ftoregoing questions and suggestions may be useful starting points for discussion and perhaps research, the construction of:genciered and religiously inft3rmed identities, as the chapters in this part demonstrate, is far more complex and Ruid than any simple madet can encompass. Difkrent life stages bring with them cliffemnt rights, duties, and ritual statuses. Equally important, we observe, is the observation that cultural values and attitudes concerning these statuses change over time. In contemporary cultures these cha~zgesare often infc3rmed by globally situated forces, suclz as colonialism, postcolonial religious fundamentalism, and transnational religious y henomena,

1 . Almost all canternyorary anthropologists dismiss as imaginary-as not supported thy any scientific evidence-tl-te outdated notic~nof "race" a a s actual biological category.

References Mandelhaurn, David C. 11 966 "Transcendental and Pragmatic Aspects of Religion." Amen'c ~ rAntJIEr~poIogisf t 58: 1174-1 19 1. Kosaldo, Michelte ZirnbaIi~t~ and Louisc La~nphere,eds. 11374 Wo~lzun,Culture, arzcl SIJC~ely. Sranfcrrd: Sranhrd University Press.

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Menstruation and Reproduction An Oglala Case

The author stresses the necessity for tznderstanding the cultural context within which ritual behavior is embedded. She argues that Miestern-derived assumptions about the meanings of menstruatbased restrictions in the antlzropological literature may obscure a clear understanding of the symbolism associated with these behaviors in a particular culture, -Editors? Cor~lnent

T H E P U R P O S E OF T H I S P A P E R I S to show the relationship between female puberty ceremonies and so-called menstrual taboos, Anthmyofogists have t~sually treated these rites independently and have regarded taboos associated with menstruation as symbctts of a woman" defilement, flowevet; in my view, the nation of defilement lzas more often been based on a priori notions regading menstruation as interpreted by Wstern standards than on empirical evidence, Although menstruation may be regarded as symboXic of defilement in some societies, such a negative attitude toward menstruation does not necessarily exist in all of them. Treating one Native American society, the Oglala,' 1 will demonstrate that myths and rituals related to female puberty in generaj and to menstruation in particular are aspects of the same phenomenon, w11icl-t emylzasizes the importance of the female reproductive role. Often in the anthroyolc~gicalliterature ideologies and rituals associated with menstrua"e-ion are ctxtracted and analyzed separately from tlzeir cultural context, a technique which has led anthmyologtsts to focus on negative or polluting aspects of menstruation. Although references to the menstrual cycle are abundant in Oglala cosmology and cosmagany,2 X will restrict my analysis to, first, myths ancl rituals related to the puberty ceremony known variously as

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the Brtffalo Ceremony" (or, in Lakota, Ignuri A-tuz'cala~vanpf' [they sing aver her (first) mensesj)4 and, next, to myths related to menstrua"eon andlor rufes for sexual condrtct focusing on two imporeant mytl~ofogicalcl~aracters:Alaukite (Uouble-faced Woman) anci Sinte Sapela fVin (Deer Woman). The relationship between buffalo and women, prevalent in Ogfalta myths and rituals, substantiates my thesis that it is the female" reyrczductive rofe in society that is being emphasized rather than her catamenial period, which has been anaIyzed variously as taboo, pollution, and defilement,

Theoretid Orientation Xn his Parnous work, l"he Rites of P~ssage(1909), Arnold Van Genney provided a means of analyzing life crises according to certain recurring patterns. Each fife crisis in Van Genneyk scheme proceeds in a threefold manner, which he termed ( f ) preliminal, or rite of separation; ( 2 ) liminal, or rite of transition; and (3) postlirninal, o r rite of incorporation. This tripartite division was collectively calfed the schema of the rites of passage. Van Gennep considered puberty ceremonies "tco be primarily rites of separation from an asexual world, follciwd by rites of incorporadon into a sexual world."S He atso distinguished betwen "first rites" and ""recurring rituals." As it relates to my thesis, menarche w u f d be regaded as a first rite, subsequent rituals assodated with it as recurring rituals. In both cases a female is symbolically or physically isolated from the rest of society (preliminal), the ceremony takes place in a special lodge (liminal), and after appropriate rituals have been performed she is reincorporated into society (posdiminalf,Although Van Gennep" model fits wll fc3r the analysis of both rituals, 1 break with anthropological tradition ancl, in addition to analyzing both puberty ceremonies (first rites) and menstrual cycfe rituals (recurring rituals) at the microlevel, f also apply Van Gennep" three-stage mrzdef to the total life cycfe n of a woman. Only at this macro level of analysis can the relaticznship b e ~ e e the initial puberty ceremonies ancl subsequent menstrual cycle rituals be explaineci adequately. Menstruation

Menstrual taboos restrict the behavior of women (and men) drtring menstruation. It generally has been reported in the anthropological literature that menstrual blood and the menstruatl~~g wcjman are considered poXIuted and dangerous, and therefcjre both must be avoided lest they contaminate men and their belongings, These notions have been attributed to tribal societies in relatively modern times; hrzwexr, antimenstrual attitudes have a long history in Western thc~rzght." suggest, therefcire, that some anthroy c~logists,educated in the Western tradition, have ctxptained tribal menstrual rites in light of their own presuypositions, not tlzose of the tribal cultures,

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The mast misinterpreted aspect of the menstrual taboo is seclusion of the woman, This isolation has been interpreted by Western it~vestigatarsas a sign of defilement and degradation. %lung and Bacdapn equate the ""&grading aspect of the [menstruatj customs" ((mainly seclusion) to the social separation and abasement imposed on etlznic gmups anci tow-caste persons, " m i l e it is possible that women do not object to being so restricted and very fikefy b e a ~ m eaccustomed to the rules, it is probable that they submit to such customs only because tlze male-dominated system of social control leaves them no alternativef7 This misinterpretation is due to a common misconception that values placed on certain behaviors in Western society can be equated with values placed on those same behaviors in non-Western society, For example, Ortner considers the limitations put on participation in ceremonial ewnts by menstruating women among the Crow a symbcrl of defitement,%lthough there is no empirical evidence that the Crow themselves share l-rer interpretation. A non-Western perspective provides a different picture, at tcast with respect to American Indians. For example, among the fndians of Califc>rniaa girl at her first menstruation was thought to possess supernatural poweragThe onset of menstruation is regaded by tlze Navajo as a time for rejoicing, and the p u n g woman becomes a tribal syrnbcrl of fecundity.MWnderhill reports that among the Papago a menstruating woman is the vessel of supernatural powr-the power that altows lzer to give birth. ""T~ispower is so diifenzat from a man's power that the two must be kept apart.""" One of Underhill" informants stated that she ioolced h r ward to her days of separation. Philip Deere, a Muskogee from Oklahoma, stated tlzat "woman is the same as man-btlt at a certain age she cllanges into another stage of fife. During this stage she nururallyr purifies herself each month, During their monthfy time w m e n separate tlzetnselves [my emyhasisj from men. Men must sweat [take a sweat bath] once a month while women are nat~lrallypuri@ing themselves to keep their medicine eEective."l~ Frazer reported tlzat in primitive societies ritual observances concerning ceremonial purity were the same for divine kings anci chiefs as for mourners and girls at puberty. He rationalized this by stating that while Western (civilized) man w u l d consider one grctup holy and the other unclean, in the savage mind concepts of hofiness and pollution were not yet differentiated. Douglas speaks to this prrint: "Ijerhaps oar ideas of sanctity have become very specialized and . . . in some primitive cultures the sacred is a very general idea meaning little more than prohibition. Xn that sense the universe is divided between thit~gsanci actions which are subject to restrictions and others which are not; among the restrictions some are intended to protect divinity from profanatictn and others to prcttect the profane from the dangerous intrusion of divinity*'""" While it is usehf to reconsider our definition of the sacred as Frazer and Douglas suggest, the problem is not only semantic. Misinterpretaticrn arises from considering ir~dividualrites in isolation rather tl-tan as a part of a dynamic whofc. Puberty ceremonies and menstrual tabocrs of a culture are never isolated conceptually, and any piecemeal interpretation of them is bound to fail,

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The following is a summary of a girl" puberty rite called I% rzati Awicalowanpi ("they sing over her [first] menses"") 1% nati literally means ""t dwell alone" and ~ f e r both s to tlze act of menstruation ancl the isafattan in which women live drtring their menstruation." The ceremony has been treated fully by Brown, Fietcher, Pcrwers, and Walker, At menarche a young OgXala woman was secluded alone in a new tipi outside the camp circle. An older kinswaman or another female, chrrsen by the family for her impeccable reputation, usually attended to her needs and instructed l-rer in her new duties as a potential wife and mothex: The Oglala believed tlzat the influences tlzat surrounded a young woman drtring her first menses had a profound effect on her throughout her lifetime. The Buffalo ceremony was performed to invoke the spirit of the buffato and thereby secure fbr the initiak the virtues most desired in an Ogtalia w m a n clzastity, fecundity, industry, and hospitality-and also to announce to the peaplc that the girl was now a w m a n . The ceremony was conducted by a shaman aburzt ten days after the young woman" first menstrual period at the request of the girX's Father. The day before the ceremony the young woman" mother and her female relatives erected another tipi to serve: as a ceremonial lodge for I% rzuti Awicglowunpi. The lodge was erected with its dooway toward the east. The women built a fire north of the lodge out of cottonwcrod to protect the initiate from the evil influences of Anukite (described later) and Wair,iya,the wizard. Meanwhile, the young woman took her menstrual bundle and placed it in a plum tree (a sy~nbolaf fruitfulness) to safeguard it from the evil influences of I n k t o m i , ~The ~ yctung w m a n k father made an altar b e ~ e e nthe catku (place of lzonor-the west) and tlze fireplace in tlze center of the tipi, and placed the ritual paraplzernalia in the lodge: a buffalo skull with horns attached, a pipe, tobacco, a w o d e n bowl, sweet grass, sage, an eagle plume, a fire carrier, dried cholcecherries,dried meat, a drum, two rattles, a clout, and a new dress for the p u n g woman. The shaman wore only a breech clout, leggings, moccasins, and a buffalo headdress with horns, From the rear of the headdress hung buffalo skin with a buffalo tail attachecl which hung below the shaman's knees when he stoorl. His Izancls, body, and face were painted red, and three perpendicular black stripes were painted on his right cheek. He carried a pipe and a staff made of chokecherry wood, During the ceremony, the shaman prayed as he smrrked the pipe which he then passed around to the people gathered in and around the lodge. While they smoked he painted the right side of the buffalo skull red ancl tlzen painted a red stripe from the occipital region to the middle of the forehead. He filled the nasal carsities with sage and blew smolce into them, thus symbctticafly imparting life to tlze skull, ancl prayed to thc buffalo god and the four winds. The young woman was brought into the lodge and instructed by the shaman to sit cross-legged-as men and chitdren sit-betwen the aftar and the fireplacle.

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The shaman then prayed to the sun, the moon, the earth, and the four winds, "We are about to puri* and to make sacred a virgin [%irgin\efers to prepubes-

cent .females] from whom will ccrme the generations of our peoylte.'"We then said, "Bull buffalo-f have painted your wcjman" [the buffalo skull] hrehead red and lzave given her a red robe. . . . Command her to give lzer inRuence to this young w m a n so that she may be a true buf'falo m m a n and bear many children.'" We then turned to the young woman: "Yc~uhave abided alone h r the first time. You are now a woman and should be aslzameci tcl sit as a chifd. Sit as a woman sitsYE7She then moved her legs to one side and sat as women do, Then the shaman prayed that the young woman wcjuXd be industrious like the spider, wise like the turtle, anci cheerful like the meadawlark, With these attributes she m u l d be chosen by a brave man who wcruld provide we11 for her. Then he began to act like a buffalo bull t w a r d the initiate, saying, ""Im the bufealr; bull and you are a young buffalo cow.'"We bellowed and red smoke (like the dust emitted by a buffalo givit~gbirth to a calf) came out of his mouth. He blew smoke on the girl until the tiyi was filled with it. He danced tc>ward the young w m a n Iowing like a buffalo buft, during the rutting season. He repeatedly sidied up to her like a buffalo performing a matit~gritual. Each time that he did this her mother placed sage under her arms and in her tap. Tl-re shaman ptaced the w o d e n bowl filled with chokecherries and water on the ground to simulate a water hole on tlze Plains and bade the young woman to get on her hands anci h e e s and drink like a buffalo with him, The young wcjxnan was then told to remove her dress, and her mather was instructed to arrange her hair so that it fell in front like a woman's. The shaman painted the part of her hair and the right side of her forehead red like the buffalo skull and said, "Red is a sacred calor. Your first menstrual flow was red. Then you were sacred. This is to show that you are akin to the bufpdfo god and are lzis woman. You are now a buffalo woman-you are entitled to paint your face in this manner.'q9 He tied an eagle plttme in lzer hair and gave her a staff of cherryood, Her motlzer removed the belt that had held tlze menstrual bundle and the ceremony ended with giwaways and a Eeast in the girl's honnor.

Exegesis To the Oglala the buffalo was the most itnportant of all animals. It provided them with food, clothing, shelter3and even h e l for their fires. It was a natural symbol of the uniwrse for symbolically contained within it w s the totality of atf manifest forms of life, including people, Bushc3tter20 f~traishestwo stories about the buffalo. According to one story the buffalo originated under the earth. In the cosmogony we fitin that the bugalo and the Oglala are one. Another story tells us that the Ogtala believe that a man who dreams of buffaIo and so acts like a bufFalo has a buffalo inside him and a chrysalis lies near his shoulder blade so that no matter h ~ o&en m he is wotznded he does not die." The chrysalis symbolizes that the buffalo (manlwoman) has the power to renew himself (procreate). Metarncr-

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phosis, therefore, is perpetual, There are many correspondences b e ~ e e woman n and bufFdto in myth and ritual. For instance, the buffalo ceremony establishes the initiate" relationship with the White Buffalo CalfW<>man,2%woman who in her sexual prime brought the sacred ceremonies to the OgIala so that they might live. Thus we see what Turner calls ""multivocaXity'Yn the symbol of the bufpdlo; the symbol has no singular meaning, but rather a ntzmber of latent meanings from which one emerges in rrsponse to particular emotional needs of people, There is a symbolic relationslzip between males and females (b~~ffafo bull anci buffalo c w ) , and the irnpc~rtanceof sexual reprodtzction is emphasized. Both w m e n and buff2io are associated with creating and sustaining life, The sexuat nature of initiation ceremonies cannot be denied since symbolically these rites transform an individual into a man or woman, These, like all other "rites of passage are alwrzys founded on the same idea, the reality of change in the particiyants\social cttnditi~n.'"~IJ~ratz'Awicalo~tzpiis clearly a rite of separation from the asexual world anci incorporation into the world of sexuality. Prior to the ceremony, during her menstrual period the young w m a n is separated from the progane world. While she is in her menstrual hut, she is isolated and maintained both physicafly and symbolically in an it~termediatestate until the actual ceremony takes place. During the ceremony itself, the initiate goes through all of Van Cennep" stages in this rite of passage, the prefiminal (asexual) stage. She sits cross-legged like men anci chifdren, she is wearing her hair like a cl-tild", and a dress tlzat she wol-e prior to her menses, During the liminal stage she is both girl and woman (asexual and sexuaI). She sits at the cutka whiclz in a tiyi is the place of tlze west wind whose bl-eezes and rains cleanse. Sl-tenow is sitting like a woman bat the arrangement of her hair and her dress are still a girl's. She subsequentty removes her dress which is associated with her old status and thus is separated from the wctrld of the child (asexual). Her mother removes the belt that held her menstrual bundle (which symbolizes the liminal stage) and hands it to the shaman who in turn gives it to the girl's father indicating that the marginal (dangerous) period has passed (the girl has been separated from the liminal stage) and men need not fear contamination. She enters the yostliminal (sexual) stage. Her hair is arranged like a wman's and her face and hair are painted like a buffalo woman". The songs and feasts in lzer honor reincorporate her into the propane world with a new status, that of a woman-a buffalr) woman (to the Oglala, one who creates life). During the ceremony the shaman is both buffialo bufI (during the sirnufated mating ritual) and buffitlo woman (since the shaman" face is painted like that of the buffalo skull and the buffalo skull is symbolic of a buffalo woman). This is substantiated lix~guisticaflysince in a ritual context the term for buffalo is Pte, ""bfFalo COW)' (-Femalebu fcalo). In the ceremony the red water (chokcherries and water) is sacred, meant for buffalo women and a sign of life, Again we see the connection being made symbolically between bufpalo women (sexual or pubescent women, those who have the pclwer to create life) and life. M<->ret)ver, if red is sacred and sacred water and menstrual blood are red, then symbolically sacred water is menstrual blood. Xf sacred water is life, menstrual blood also symbolkes life. m e n the shaman as the

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buffalo bull and the initiate as a bufilo woman drink the sacred water, the two become one as bt~ffitlopeople (incorporation) and at the same time the initiate ingests symbolically the sacred menstrual blood which had left the body, thus replicating the cycle of Xife, X believe that taboos associated with pregnancy and childbirth serve the same frtnction. We find many similarities in the taboos, Botlz menstruating w m e n and m m e n giving birth are secluded in special lodges, .for instance; both are attended by postmenoparrsal femates; and the placenta, like the menstrual bundle, is placed in a tree.

"hukite fbmbiapi,'"the Double Woman Cult Ancrtber example of female symbolism is found in a mythclogicalf character called Artukite, who pfiiys an important rctle in the supernaturai affairs of the Oglala. In the cosmotog Ite (Face) is very beautiful and is married to E t e (the Wind). Ite has an affair with the Sun, who at the time is married to the Mocrn. Because of her infidelity Ite is punished and given an ugly face. On one side she is stilt beautiful, on the other ugly. She thus becomes Anukite (Double Face), who, according to Powers, ""appears to men in visions and in the real world in the form of a deer or two deer women, one white and the other black. The two faces of Double Face and the two Deer Wctmen represent prctper and improper sexual condrtct. . . . Men become disorderly or crazy when tl-tey have [improper] sexual relations with deer wcrmen."24 Women who dream of Alazakite lzave r~nusualpowers to seduce men. Tl-tese women were considered wakan (sacred). The Oglafa say that if a man meets a lone woman in the woods or on the prairie he mtzst amid her, for she may be a deer woman, The myth attributes to the deer a peculiar scent in the hoof that becomes a fine perf-~tmewhen the deer becomes a woman. The perf-11me tl-ten acts as a medicine and works an evil spell on men. Setmetimes even wishing to make leme to a deer woman can be fataf,2Weer women often appear as beautiful creatures who, after enticing men to lzave improper sexual relations with them, turn into deer and run away. After this the man goes insane or dies. Lunar and Solar Symbots According to tlze meciicine man, Black Elk, "The power of woman grows with the moan ancl comes anci goes with itPzWs they do in other societies, many ccrrresyondences exist between the moon and menstruation. In the ccrsmology we find that as a resuft of the Sunk adulterous affairs with &c", the Sun ancl Moan separate. Linguistically wi (moon, female) was preeminent, W e n the Moon is given her own domain, the undifferentiated wi becomes month, Thus wi (fernate) is isotated from the Sun during the month just as wctmen are isolated from men during their menstrual periocl. According to kwers, ""le is sent away from the Sun as punishment because she sat in the place of the maurz. Metaphorically . . . Man does not have sexual relations with a w m a n who sits in the place of the moon, that is, during her menstrual perioci.'"7 Among many American Indian

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tribes, semen is perceived as being finite; thus proscriptions about male sexual retations with menstruating women ensure that semen will not be "wasted'hn a wcjman at times when she cannot conceive, Since these tribes are cctmparativety smatl groups concerned with m a i n ~ i n i n ga stal->lepopufa"e-ion,to "waste" "seen would be Eatal to the society's ability to reymduce itself. In Native Worth America the two most cctmmon proscriptions regarding menstruating women are: ( I ) that they be secluded, metaphorically, kept out of the sun; and (2) that tlzey not caak for their husbands, that is, that they not go near the fireplace, In Oglata cosmology the Sun passes over the fireplace at midday; thus a woman using the fireplace symboticafiy risks hatsing imprctyer sexual relations with the Sun (just as Ite did). That botlz the Sun and fireplace symbolize creation is underscored by the fact that when the lPJhite Buffalo Calf Wcjman left the Oglala she fc3llowed the path of the Sun. Symbolically her place was in the center, as a symbol of fecundity, and the birth of the OgIala (who emerged from tlze center) for the M ~ i t eBuffalo is fot1nc2 at the center of the herd (universe). Names for months of the year also reflect the relationship betwen the Moon (menstruation) and creation. For example, November is known as moan when deer copulate, or Winter Moon. Xn warziyetzl (winter), the radical element ni means life or breath, Winter is also associated with North, and the North Wind has predominantly femafe characteristics. Nine months later, August is known as moan when seeds ripen (give birth, bring forth fruit), or the Harvest Moan. The Ogfala regard the mocjn as having influence over berdaches (men who dressed like .women and who assume female behaviors), w l ~ awere considered to have auspicious powers refated to childbirth and cl~itdrearing.Often tlzey were called uyctn to name children. Berdaches were men who dreamed of a wakarr (sacred [menstruating] woman) or who repeatedly dreamed of ptt" winkte, Altlzouglz pte winkle has been glossed as hermaphrodite buffalo, according to Beuchet the literal translation is fat, dry bufhlo cowz8 for a cow who cannctt nourishlsustain life). Again we see a relatictnship b e ~ e e nmenstruating women and life, An ambiguity exists, however, since menstruation symbolizes the potentiality for lik (the ability tc:, cctnceive) and the absence of life (not having conceived). Macro-Level Analysis So Far I have focused on the female puberty ceremony and myths and rituals associated with menstruation at the micro level of analysis. fliowver, at the macro level the entire female life cycle may also be analyzed in terms of Van Gennep's rites of passage, At this level the relationship bemeen the puberty ceremony and menstrual taboos becomes clear. According to the literature and my own informants, Oglala m m e n can take an active role in a ntzmber of rituals only during prepubescent and postmenctyausat stages of their lives. During their reprctductive stage restrictions are placed on their participation. For example: only "virgi~~s" (prepubescent girls) are permitted to totzch or carry the sacred sun dance pcrrle. They also may handXe the sacred pipe and other sacred paraphernaiia normally proscribed for pubescent women. bstmenopausal women may assist in ritual

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TABLE 5.1 Van Gennel,l"sScllema

Xteprodu crive female, unmarried) (13uubescentfemale, xnarried)

1.viko3ku ltzku

(prrbescent

winyauz

curing, pick sacred herbs, and instruct young wcimen at puberty and childbirth. The Oglala divide the &male life cycle into fciur stages: wicirzculu " " y ~ ~ ngirl" g (prepubescent); wZko% kalaka-"yotzng w m a n (pubescent); wir~yaz-"wc>man"" (married woman); and ws'nnunEl-mla-""old mrnan" "ostrnenopausalf," Two of the stages are decidedly unambiguous, the first and the last, in which t l ~ efernate is not sexually reproriucttve. The second and third stages are ambiguous in the sense that a distinctirtn is made between two types of sexually reproductive females, both physiologicaily mature and hence capable of bearing children, of whom only one is considered ""socially" mature (Le,, "the woman,""or married woman), These ambigucrus stages may be seen ttrgether as a dialectic between pre- and postreproductive stages, In Van Gennep" terms the second and third stages may be viewed as liminal. By substituting a new set of terms for Van Cennep" three stages, we may analyze the female life ccyk as shown in Table 5.1. If the Xirninal stage is sacred, we may conclude tl-tat the female's entire reproductive stage is also sacred, because during this time the woman is in a continuous state of ambiguity, that is, if she does not reproduce, she menstruates, if she dctes not menstruate, she reproducles. Compared to the yre- ancl postreprodrtcti-vc stages which are continuous (uninterrupted by the potential of reproduction), the entire reyroductix stage, beginning with the puberty ceremony and inciuding each menstruai period, can be viewed in terms of:Victor Turner's notion of cornmunitas, or antistructure, This is a time when people are released from cultural constraints ""only to return to structrrre revitalized by their experience of ~clmrrrunitas,'"V~tltT~rraertells us that ct~rnrnmnitascanncit be sustained, that our perceptions of reality must be structured in order for there to be reality;". The functicin of the menstrual taboo then is not to enunciate the pollutive nature of the ftemale but to give structure to what otl-terwiseis a period of:antistructure.

I have shown that viewcl as part of a dynamic whole rather than isotated events, fernate ptzbert-y ceremonies and menstruation among the Oglala are both aspects of the same phenomenon and serve to emphasize the female" reymductive role,

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Nowhere in the data is there evidence that practices associated with menstruation are in any way cansidered a. sign of defilement o r degradation toward the menstruating female. It wouXd be useful to reexamine the data fmm other societies in the same way that X have treated the Oglala t a ascertain whether o r not caaclzlsions regarding rittzals related tcr puberty ceremcrnies and menstruation are based o n empirial evidence or, as in the case among American Indian groups, represents the imposition of Western values on behaviars in non-western societies. I)crhaps a. reevaluation will point us tcrward a better understanding of what may only be W s t e r n concepts of misoany. By Gewing menstruation in a larger context and seeing it merely as one of many components in a. female sylnbolic system, we may learn t a desensitize ourselves from W s t e r n negative notions of female physiology and address oursetves tcr the need tcr make a un$ed analysis of w m e n k ssymbofic and material lives.

An earlier version of this essay was presented at the Thirty-fith Axlnuai Plains Conference, Lincoln, Nebraska, in November 1977 as part of a symposium entitled "Ws~men'sWale and Status in Plains Culttrre:" am indebted to Ximena 13unster B. and Andrm P. Lyons for their comments and for their Initial support and encouragement, to Robin Fox and I,ionel Tiger for providing an academic milieu condusiw ta exploring new ideas, and especially work with the Oglafa has provides the foundation to Witliar1 K. Powers wl-rase insightf~~l for my work and with whom discusssions have proved invaluable in helping me to clarify rny owrr ideas. 1. The OgiaXa jive in the Pine Eliclge reservation in southwestern South Dakota. My information is based on my own fieldwork on the Pine Ridge reser?ratic->nin July-A~~gust 1976 and on JosepXl Epes Brown, The Sncmd Pipe (1953; reprint ed,, Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1971); Alice Fletcher, ""TT1eWhite Rrrffalo Festival of the Uncpapas," "tlz urzd 17th Arzvzual Rel~nrtcfthe Peubodjf Museum, Ilarvcgrcf 3, nos..3 and 4 (1884): 260-75; William K. Powers, ClgluEa Religion f Li~rcoln:University of Nebraska Press, 1977); J. R, Walker, ""The Sun Da~lceand Other Ceremonies of the OglaEa Division of the Teton-l>aki~ta:'Arztlzroj>oIr~gZcaEiUapers of the Mtdseusrz clfN~tmraEFIistnry, vol. 16, pt. 2 (t917));and Clark Wissier, "Sodeties and Ceremonial Associations in the Oglala Division of the Tetoa-Dakota," Artthroj?ologkculPupws cf the i;2/1tiseuurrc f N ~ ~ t u rIliistor/t; nl vol. t t ,pt. t ( t 9 1 ). 2. J. O w n Uorsey, "A Study of Sicrt~anCults," Ekeventjz An~uulReport clfthe Rznre~uof Ethnology (Washington, D.C., l 8891, pp. 35 1-544; Powers; Walker. 3. Walker. 4, Brotun. 5. Arnold Van Geanep, Il'he Riles Mlfussuge (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1"360),p. h. 6. See, for example, Janice Delar~ey,The Curse (New York: E. P. Dunon, 1976). 7. Frank W Yi>ungand A. A. Racdayan, ""Menstrual Taboos and Social Rigidity," in Crcjss-culs~ir~l A ~ I ~ I ~ O LReadings . E C ~ W ,in c;"oy~rparc~tE've Research, ed, Clellancl Ford (New Haven, Conn.: H U F Press, t 967), p. t 00, 8. Sherry R, Qrtner, ""IFernale to Male as Nature Is to Culture?" in Wnmbrrz, C:t{lrure arzd Society, ed. M . Z. Rosaldo and Louise Larnphere (Stanfard, CaIif.: Sranford University Press, 1974),

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9, Sir lames G. Frazer, The GoEderz Rough (1922; abridged ed,, New %?I-k: Macmillarx Co., 1963),vol. 11. 10. Charlotte J. Frisbee, Kinuubci~t,A Stucty ~ f t h eNazjctlzo Girl3 P~uberyCieremouty (Middtetorwn, Corxn,: Wesleyan Universiv Press, 1967); Flora L. Raifep Some Sex Relie$ alad lfrucfices in u Ni~vtlhoC:~rnm~nitfr (Cambridge, Mass.: Peabody Mtlsertm of America11Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard, 19501, VOX. 40, no, 2. l 1. liuth M. Underhill, Red Man% Religion (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1"365), p. 51. 12. Personal i~iterviewwith Phiiip Ucere. 13. Mary Douglas. Puriy and I>urtger (Hartxondsworth, Middlesex: Itoutledge tk Klegan Paul, 19661, p. 18. 14. Pcrwess, p. 1101. 15. Inktorni, the spicier, is the trickstericulture Iiero who is calzable of transforming himself into human or other nonhuma~iforms. 16. Brawn, p. 119. 17. Wrafkcr, p. 1144. 18, Ibid., p, 147. 1% Ibid., p. 149. 20. Geoxge Bushotter was a Teton Sioux ernyloyed by the Bureau of American Ethnology for the purpose of writing his memoirs in his native language. He completed 259 texts wllich were translated by the ethnr>togistfames Owe11Uorsey bemeen 11887 and 11888, 2 1. Ibid. 22. In the cosmology Wok;l"~~e (Falling Star), the daughter of the Sun and the Moon, drops out of the cosrxos and turns into the White 13uffalo CaIEWornan. (1iG"oi"ip~reides in the lodge of [marries] the South Wind.) The WrhiteBuffalo Calf Woman brings the original sacred ceremox~iesto the Oglala. After giving the people the cexernonies and the sacred pipe slie leaves the camp. As she leaves slie trcrrxzs Into three different kinds of buffalo: red and yellow (red, north where wornan cornes from; yellow, east-surprise), white (south, at the center), and black (west); then she disappears over the liill (sumet). This represents the path of the Sun, which at midday is directly over the fireplace (in the ceater) representing creation. 23, Van Gennep, p. 141. 24, Powers, p. 197. 25. Wrissfer,p. 94. 21;. John G. Neiliardt, Black Elk Spaiks (Lincoln: tiniwrsity of Nebraska Press, 1961), p. 212, 27. Powers, p. 194, 28, Eugene Rerrchel, S.J., IJtirkotu-l:nglisIz Dictionary (Pine Ridge. S.D.: Holy Rosary Mission, 11370). 29, Similarly, there are correspcrrzding male stages: hoks"e'ln-""young boy,'2oos"knluka" ~ u n man," g wwicagcl-"married man," wicai'z'cutu-"old man." Furthermore, arnclng the Oglala the sexual distinction between males and fe~nalesis underscored in prescril,tians and proscriptions for participation in sacred rituals. Thus we see that prepuhesceat girls and postrnenopausaI women perform sacred duties while they axe in profane states whife rnales perform sacred duties during that period of their life that parallels the reproductive stage of the women, !lie also see that neither young boys nor old men take an active part in ritrxal. 30, Victor Turner, Il'he Rilzla2 Procas (Chicago: AIdine Publislling Go., 11369), p. 129. 3 1. Ibid.

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The Domestication of Re The Spiritual Guardianship of Elderly Jewish Women

Fieldwork ccrnducted among etderly, Oriental &wish women living in Jerusalem reveals a religious world centred arotznd guarding over ancestors and descendants, The article identifies and labels the ""dmestication of religion'hs a process in which people who profess their allegiance to a wider religious tradition personalise the rituals, institutions, symbols and theology of that wider system in order to safeguard tlze well-beitlg of particular individrtals with whom they are linked in relationships of care. It is argued that individuafs (such as the Oriental wcjmen) who have a great deaf invested in interpersonal relationslziiys, and who are excluded from hrmal power within an institutionalised religious framewcrrk, tend to be assc-tciated with a personafly-oriented religious mode. -Aurkor"si"ibstmcr

AN

I N - K E N S E C O N C E R N W I T H T H E W E L L - H E I N C ; of their extended families characterises the religious lives of many etderly, Oriental Jewish w m e n . In numerous rituals-spontaneous, farmat, private and communat--they guard the living, dead and unborn people with whom they have close relationships, The religiorzs world of these w m e n highlights the need for a concepticrn of religion which takes into account the interpersonal nature of much of human retigiosity. Inspired by Fustel de Coufanges's nation of damesric religton,i in this article I shafl descrik a process that E call ~Zornestz'cutz"o~-aprocess in which people wha profess their allegiance to a wider religious tradition personalise the rituals, institutions and perlzaps even the tlzealogy of that wider system in order to safe'cgt~arci

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the health, happiness and security of particufar people with whom they are linked in relationships of caring and interdependence. Domestic religion, concerned with the lives and deaths of specific and usually wll-loved individuals, is continually re-created whenever human beings personalise or ""domesticate" aspects of an impersonal, universaly-orienfed religious culture. During 1984 and 1985 I ccrnducted tieldwcrrk among Oriental Jewish women in Jerusalem. Tl-rese women, who came to Israel ftrom Kurdistan, Iraq, Iran, Ymen ancl Nortl~Africa, attencl a Senior Citizens' Day Centre located in one of Terusalem" sold, Oriental neighbourhoods.2 These w m e n are specialists in the domestication of refigion. They are also goor?illiterate, poweriess in terms of the rabbinical establislzment, and extremely committed to and dependent Lrpon networks of kin and neighbcturs with whom they maintain intimate and daily ccrntact, f suggest that individuals (such as these women) who have a great deal invested in interpersonal relationships, and who are excluded from format power within an institutionalised religious framework, tend to be associated with a highty personally-crriented religious mode. Similar refigious emphases have been noted for Muslim wc3men (Beck 1980; Jamzadeh 8r Mills 19861, urban Hindu Women (Beecl1 1982), Spanish Christian women (Christian 1972), Black Carib women (Kerns 19851, Cl~ristianwomen in rural Greece (Danforth 1982), and rural Hindu w m e n (Thompson 1983; Wadley 1980).W i l e I am not suggesting that it is only women who meet these criteria, within many and prob;lbly most cultures it is indeed women who are most visi"oy invotved with andlor expert in the domestication of religion, 'To reiterate, the religious process that I describe here is cl~aracterisednot by g n d e r but by theme; its association with women is an emy iricaf observation (cf. Gilligan 1982: 2). Previous sttrdies of wcjmen and refigion have hcused upon several major motifs, First, there have been many analyses and critiques of women's offidaf status within institutionalised religious framewrks (Llavis 1975; Lawless 1983; al-Hibr 1982; Mukherjee 1983; Pc3rnercry f 975; Reuther 1979).3 In addition, severat studies have explored ritualisecl or syxnbolic female rebellion against male-dominated religious frameworks (Ifilu 1980; Kraemer 1980).A number of studies have ccrncentrated upon exceptional women, hunders of new sects, and women who have broken away from traditional female paths (Binford 198(.);m i t e 1980; Barfield 1983; Uurrant 19'79; Hamey 1979). A fc~urtharea of interest has been wcjmen's involvement in pilgrimage, church attendance and possession cults-religious activities that are carried out by clearly defined yoyufations in clearly defined ancl separated sacred spaces and times (Moberg 1962; Bourguignon et al. 1883; Mernissi 1977). Another fairly large group of studies emphasises female phpiology as a symbol, source or determinant of participation in various rituals (I-locllSmith & Spring 1978: 1-2; Lowie 1952; Gutmann 1977; Grclss 1980). A someMrhat different approach has emerged in those very few recent sttrdles which have looked at the wdys in which women's religious activity supports and legitimates womenk everyday, pragane activities (Falk &: Cross 1980: xvi; Rushton 1983), My analysis in this article may be seen as growing out of this type of ap-

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proach; the interpersonatly-oriented religiosity of the Oriental wczmen certainly validates, supports ancl legitimates tlzeir familial concerns. Hojwever, tlze essetzce of the religiosity depicted here is not the relatixly small number of rituals that directly relate tct specific aspects or activities of wczmen" prosaic and diurnal lives, Far more significant is the overarching world-view or paradigm tlzat in Fact determines the ways in which these women illterpret and participate in diverse and seemingly unrelated religious phenczmena and rituals. This existential mode has been described by the educational ysyclzologtst Carol Gilligan as a moral "voice" that speaks of "the realization that setf and other are interdependent, and that fife, howver valuable in itself>can only be sustained by care in relationships" (Gifligan 1982: 127).

Background The elderly, Oriental women of this study are exceedindy pious. They participate in numerous religious rituats each day-they recite btessings, donate small sums of money to charity kiss sacred objects, attend Judaica lessons, prepare for the Sabbath and holidays, frequent lzoly tombs and pray in the locd synagogtzes. A substantial portion of their meagre financial resotzrces is directed t ~ r w r d ssupporting religious institutions and lixnding religious rituals, The sacred permeates all aspects of their lives-nearly every conversation ends with someone lookixzg upwards and saying: "Everything is in God's hands's":or, ""God is great, and exrything will turn out fix the best" Time, for these women, is marlced off by the Sabbath and holidays, Birtl~,marriage and death are surrounded by lzundreds of rituals wlzose meaning is that fife is not a random, natural process, but a significant part of a divinely created and ordered universe. In short, for these women time, space, Me, death, love and tradition are potentially sacred-"You. just need elnzkrzakt [faith, belief]': ""Official" "rabbinic Jt~daIsmis notewrthy fctr its preoccupation with male religious sentiments and religious duties. The hulacha4 or legal literature describes male-daminatcc2 rituals in great detail, but says almost nothing about female spiritual life. Most w m e n " rituals are extra-fialachi~~ although the w m e n of this study, probably because of their illiteracy, are obtiviczus to that distinction, Very little about Jewish women's religious experience appears in written sources of any period, and the sparse ethnographic literature on pious Tewish w m e n has concentrated primarily on the social role of Ashkenazi Mrarnen (see Berger-Sofer 1979; FinkeXstein 1980; Frank 1975; Jayanti 1982; Myer1zof-E1979). The women described here define their religio-cultural affiliation and identity in terms of the male-oriented great tradition of orthodox jrrdaism. Official judaism stresses learning-being conversant with sacred texts is the path to power in the Jewish world-and the distinction between those who are literate and those who are illiterate has traditicznafly been made along gender iines. Although not all men who know the Hebrew alphabet can be considered religious specialists or representatives of the great tradition, it is significant that women as a group did noUuntiX very recently) have access to sacred writings,"

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The wctmen" experience of religion is highly gender-specific: they conduct their religious lives mainly among other Mrarnen and talk about their reiigious cttncerns and behaviour from a gynocentric perspecdve, For example, the Mromen describe a ""religious person" in the same way that they describe a ""rligiatls woman" wl~iletlzeir description of a ""rligiot~sman" is very different. They bel i e that ~ their female religious world is just as holy, traditional, spiritually p(>werful and imycrrtant to the contintzed existence and wll-being of the Jewish people as that of the mate rabbis, cantors, circumcisers, scholars, judges, exegetes, poets, writers, priests and teachers. The Mrarnen do not consider that their fernate rituals are superstitious, optional, local, magical, syncretistic or in any way fangential to fewislz like Indeed, the vast majority of their religio~~s practices are culled from the official Jewish great tradition. Ancestors md Descendants The Oriental women of Terusalem, like all human beings, live orzt their lives amrrng peoylte with whirm they are connected in webs of relationship-of to*, cttncern, and care,The religion of these women sacratises those relationships: the wctmen described here participate in the holy by caring h r their kin and, by extension, the entire fewish.people. In tlzis anci tlze fclllowing sections I shall trace tlze thl-ead tlzat organises the women's religious world-the paradigm thmugh which they interpret and approach the sacred. IJersonal relationship semes as the core ccrmycrnent of that world and the personally-oriented religious world of the Mrarnen interacts with the great tradition of rabbinic Judaism. These wcjmen see themselves as the spiritual guardians of their families, The relrgio~~s role of:guarding one's famify is a f~tnctianof bath age and gender; men and p u n g e r women have mu cl^ more limited contact with ancestors and have almost no respcrnsi"oiliv-in the spiritual sphere-for the welfare of their descendants. (Yc>ungerwomen are of course in charge of the pf~ysicalwell-being of their families,) The organising principle in the religiczus lives of these w m e n is that they enlist the aid of ancestors in helping desmndants, and they educate descendants to remember ancestors. As Kerns writes ( 1983: 103) of: Black Carib women in Belize, "Ritual and kinsl~ipshare a central meanitlg: the interdepencience of:the generaticrns and the lifelong responsibility of women for . . . kin" What is described in this article is a setf-defined, self-setected religious role. It must be emphasised that the religious establishment does not tell the wcjxnen to function as guardians of their extended ftarniiies; the rabbis give but minimaf instruction on how to care for ancestors anci descendants properly. In referring to the women as the spiritual guardians of: their families I am using the wcxd "hmily" in the broadest possible sense of ancestors and descendants, bic>logicaf and mythical. For the w m e n of this study, what differentiates "filrnily" from the rest of the w r t d is that wit11 family members one has a personal, reciprocal relationship,

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The mrnen of this study attribute to all dead members of their kin grotzps, with the possible exception of a particularly hated husband or in-law, something of the spatus of a saix~t.The minimal definition of:a saint is someone who lzas a special relationship with God, somec>newhose request to God is especially liteely to be answered. The women expand the Jewish ncttion of saint to illclude almost all dead relatives. Thus the category of: saint includes Biblical figures such as Abraham, Rachet or Elijah, historical figures such as the Talmudic Rabbi Meir baal HaNess, modern miracle-wrkers such as the popular Moroccan Baba SaIi who died three years ago, and parents anci grandparents who are buried in local cemeteries, The living can remain in communication with dead saints via prayer, ritud and pilgrimage, The dead communicate with the living primarily through dreams in which they provide guidance, advice and infcjrmaticrn (close relatives such as late husbands anci sucll Biblical figures as Elijah tlze Proplzet have figured in the dreams of several of my informants), The m m e n gc>to the graves of saints to discuss their problems with the saints, to enlist help for their restjluticrn, and to urge the saints to extencl their protection to safeguard the healtlz and happiness of children and grandchiidren. In exchange, the m m e n promise to perform syecific acts, such as giving money trt charity or lighting candies to honour the saints? mnzeories. They also tend the graves of Fdmily members by cleaning anci ptztting flowers on them, The dead saint is seen as being in direct relationship with those of hislher kin living on earth (see Benaim 1980; Ben-Ami f 981 for a fuller discussion of: tlzis notion). The women speak as if the saint is plzysicaffy present in the grave; they say, for example, that they "visited Elijah the Prcrphet" or "are go111g to visit Rabbi Meir" They believe that by touching or kissing the tomb tlzey can came into closer contact. with the person who was buried in it. The dead saint is thc~rzghtto come out of the grave at night to bless objects such as oil left near the tomb, The graves of family members are visited on the eve of the New Moon and on the anniversaries of their deaths, The graves of more famous saints are visited a n anniversaries of their deaths (hilutat) and whenever the Senior Citizend Day Centre organises a bus to the saints' tombs.7 The w m e n describe these visits as opportunities "to aask for mercy and to cry crn the graves" W h asked why they visit the tombs, one wctman explained ""because we are homesick for our ancestors?'. Most of the popular saints are male, which reflects tlze predominance of men in Biblical stories, later Jewish literature, and the Orthodc)~rabbinate (which is excfuslvefy male). The relationship between the women and tlzeir dead is a reciprocal one. The dead help the m m e n by giving advice (usually in dreams) and by interceding with Gad on the wctmenk behalf, Gifts such as new curtains to cover a tomb, Rowers, canclles and money for its upkeep encourage the saint ta intercede. The women also help their ancestors by colecting (purchasing) blessings on the anniversaries of their deaths, when the Mromen request rabbis to say special btess-

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ings in memory of the deceased, The wcjmen both seek the assistance of the dead saints and keep guarci over tlzem, in muclz the same way tlzat, as we shall see, old women guard living Jews. The assistance that the wctmen ask of the dead is atmost atways for a child, gl-andclzifd or gtreat-granclchildwho is ill, unemployed, unmarried or infertile. In other m r d s , what is being described here is a chain with two intermediary links. The child has a probtem, the elderly wcjman asks the saint to intercede, and God actually grants tlze yetitinn. Daughters In Oriental Jewish culture, as in many other cultures, it is daughters (and to a lesser extent daughters-in-law) who have responsibility for aging parents (cf. Wess & Warling f 983). Sons who own cars may hetp their parents with transportation, anci refigiousty observant sons may visit their widowed mothers on the Sabbath to recite the appropriate prayers and blessings (since the wcjmen are illiterate, most find it difficult to learn the Hebrew prayers that their husbands had always said but that as widows they must now say for thernsefves). But tlze d a ~ ~ g h ters bear the burden of day-to-day and emotional support of aged and sick parents. Daughters of widowed mothers are expected to telephone or visit their mothers daify, to lzelp their mothers negotiate the intricacies of the Health Service, to hetp to clean their mr>thers%houses, and above all to be available for endless discussions of the health problems of all members of the atended family, t>a~~ghters of widowed Pathers are expected to keep house for their Pathers, to bring them food and cook fbr them, to dcj their laundry and to make any other domesdc arrangements. Thus, the spiritual rofe of caring for dead ancestors may be seen as an extension of the female day-to-day ask of caring for aging parents. The Oriental daughter who cleans the house for her living parents, will some day tend their gratFes, Xrx the same way that she is responsible for the emo"rona1 support of her elderly motlzel; she is responsible for the spiritual support of her deceased ancestors.

Children and Soldiers The elderly Mromen generally have close and loving relationships with their children and gl-andclzildren. m i l e most describe tlzeir refattonships with their husbands as at best problematic, there is no such ambiguity regarding their children-they love and admire their children and grandchildren, and are viratty concerneci with their health and happiness. The women enjoy describing the difficult ccrnditions under which they brought up their children-the shortage of food, finandal problems, lack of adequate housing and the never-ending housework, They are proud of their success in raising good anci financially independent children, and say that their success was achieved with the help of God (not the hefp of their husbands), Since children are so greatly loved and vaiued, it is

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not surprising t h a ~ h greatest e misfortune to befall a wcrman is barrenness, and the greatest sorrow is the death of one's children. Infant mortality was common in Asia and North Africa in the early decades of this century);and one Kt~rdish women cites tlze not a typical case of a nei&bour "who had ten cl~ildren,nine of whom diecl in puth": These women, who have worked lzard for so many years providing for their children, do not relinquish responsibility for their descendants when they themselves are no longer heafthy and strong enorzgh to d o laundry and clean the house. Instead, they transfer their rofe of caretaker to the spiritual realm, devcrting time, thought and money to safeguarding children and grandchildren by way of prayers, blessings and the soliciting of saints71ntervendon. The w m e n frequently give srnafl contributions to rabbis (usually for rabbinical seminaries) in return for their blessing. The blessing that the women request is sometimes for tlzemselves, particularly if they have recently been ill, but more typically for one of their children. The problem that requires a blessing can be financiaf, health, marital, or almost anything else (cf. Kerns 1983: 177-9). The wcrmen expand the category ""children" to include all the members of Israel" DDence Forces, frequently sving that "All of the soldiers are like my swn children" ne: visiting the hcrly graves and on other ritual occasions the Mromen bless each other with words such as, "May tlzere be health for all of Xsraef, may tlzere be peace, may all of the soldiers return in peaceY?",8n tlze words of one informant, "Every soldier is like my eye, even the Druze soldiers" She meant that all soldiers in Israel" Defence Forces, even the non-Jewish Druze who serve in the Army, were as precious to her as her awn eyesight. While it is common to express the value one places on an individual fal~nostatways a child or grandchild) by saying that he or she is as dear and irreplaceable as one's swn eyes, it is significant that the woman used this intimate metaphor to describe her fteelings about nonJewislz soldiers, Just as the women believe t l ~ a tlzey t lzave a reciprocal relationship with tlze blessed dead-whc~se graves they tend and whose spirits in turn intercede with Gctd on their behalf-so they see their relationship with the soldiers as being reciprocal. The rabbi who cctnducts IJ~daicalesstz~sat the Senior Citizen" Day Centre expressed this idea: "By carefully observing the holidays [according to Jewish law) we can convince God to prcttect the soldiers on the borders, and the soldiers who ensure the security of the Jewish State make it possibie for civilians like us to be good yradising] fews': The women believe that it is their duty to care for the soldiers, and tlzat tlzeir own actions can affect the soldiersbsafety; e.g., the women make a point of not wearing dark ccrloured cfothing while grandscrns are serving in the Army in case this causes misfortune to the boys- They use the word mz'tzvah (divine ordinance) to describe atli their work of hetping the soldiers, both spirituaf and more prctsrzic assistance such as donating money to the SofdiersWeffare Fund or volunteering to pack uniforms and ammunition at a Xocaf Army base,

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litzhorn Children The etderly m m e n of this study also devote a great deal trf time to ensuring that the next generation of Jews will be born. A particutarly frequent reason for visiting t11e tombs of saints is to pray b r a daughter, daughter-in-law, or granddauglzter who has difficulty conceiving. The dead Jew in the tomb is expected to be interested in his or her as yet unborn descendants, and this interest is often mediated by ofd women. According to Jewish taw and Orienfal Jewislz custom a man can divtjrce his wife if she is barren. Thus, the wmen's concern with fertility reflects their dependence upon good relationships with both God and husbands. Pregnanq ancl chifdbirtl~are beiieved to have botlz practical anci supernatural aspects, and elderly Oriental w m e n have special knowledge of both fields. Profound belief in the singular ability of God to grant fertility and an auspicicjus hour for giving birth, are combined with centuries of wctmen" folk knovvledge about pregnancy and childbirth. Typical of:tlze comments is the adage that in order to be safely and speedily delivered a woman should ccrtPer her head (a sign of female pkty), kiss the mezuzak f a small bctx attached to alf doorways in traditional Jewish. homes in which certain BibXicaI verses are written), ask God to help, do gcmd deeds and continue to have sexual relations with her husband tzp to the last minute. What the pregnant wctman sees and hears is believed to affect the foetus. Listening to a conversation about distressing matters can have injuriotls consequences, while gc~ingon a pilgrimage to a saint" ggrve would cause the baby to be born with a "goad soul" The w m e n k concern with fertility is isofold: not only do tlzey want their daughters to have the joy of raising children; tlzey are also very concerned with the ccrntinuity and continued existence trf the Jewish peoylte. Process

The religion of the Mromen is thus supremely personal. Their religious wctrld revolves around an axis of: retationslzip-with ancestors, with descendants, with tznborn children. In this section we shall see how their persc>nat religious concerns interact with, and indeed define their participaticrn in, the great tradition of titerate, male-oriented, ortlzodox Judaism. Shokeid lzas convit~cingfyshown that the ""felribility of meaning and interpretation of symbols and norms seem to be an important feature of the rituaf domain" GfShokeid f 974: 80). The three =amp l e ~that hflow show lzow the women of this study elaborate, de-emplzasise, modi*, c i r c u m ~ n and t personalise elements and aspects of the mate (official) model of religion ( m i t e 1981).

The gl-eat tradition frequently provides the external form or language to a more personal religious ccrntent, Wcjmen are not required by Jewish law to attend s p a gogue; observant Jewish men are expected to attend synagogue twice each day In

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Yemen and Kurdistan women did not attend synagogue at alf (there were no women's sections) ancl in most Xsraeli synagogues t o d v the women's section consists of a balcony which is closed off by a curtain. The elderfy Orientat wc3men with whom X wctrked have begun, in old age, to attend synagogue regularly. They gmaally cannot hear the men's servicc (they are sitting too Far away) or unclerstand most of the Hebrew$and their presence is considered superfluous in terms of a prayer quorum (;For which ten men are needed), The Mromen play no part in tlze male synagogue service, nor do they conduct an autonomous female service. The mate synagogue service ccrmprises written prayers and readings from the Bible, On Mondays, Thursdays and the Sabbath, portions of the Torah (Pentateuch scroll) are read out loud at synagogue. The Torah is removed from belzind a covered cabinet in the men" section to the accompaniment of song and held up for the congregation to see at the beginning or end of the public reading. In many synagogues it is passed among atX male cttngregants for them to touch or kiss the holy scroll, The men follow the Torah reading in their individual copies of the Rntateuch, and the ccrntent of the weekly reading is the most common toy ic for sermons. Many elderly Oriental women attencl synagogue faithfully, making a special effort to come on Mondays, Thursdays and the Sabbath, because they believe that the time when the Torah is held up is particufarly efficacious for requests to God on behalf of their P~milies.Wc~menare not required by halacha to attend synagogue, take no part in the official synagogue service, can barely hear or tznderstand the formal service from their seats in the iadies"gallery, but stilt come to spagogue at times determined by fewish law in order to make personal petitions. This is a case in which an official ritual-synagogue attendance-has given the external h r m to the personal religious a n t e n t of guarding family members, The women use the male great tradition ritual as tlze forum for expressing tlzeir own religious ccrncerns.

The Mromen themselves distinguish bemeen personal and non-personal religious rituals. The next ritual that I shall. describe is particularly important because it is a devetopmentaf one: the same w m e n , when younger, performed it as a nonpersonat rituai, but in old age reinterpreted it as personally-oriented, The Festival of the New Moon is a women's holiday. m i l e it is probably rooted in ancient beliefs ccrnnecting w m e n " and lunar cycles, Jewish written sources give the credit h r turning the Festivaf of the New Moon into a holiday celebrated by women more tlzan men to tlze generation of riglzteous women who ref~~sed to give their jewetfery to make the golden calf (Pirkei de Rabbi Elieze~;45). Many if not most modern Jews are unaware when there is a new moon in the sky. Observant male Jews celebrate tlze Festhal of the Mew Moon only by reciting a few additional I3satms and prayers during the morning prayer service and by adding an extra paragraph to the Grace after meals. The w m e n of this study, who cannot

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even read a cafendar, are ctxtremefy aware of the Festival of the New Moon, and on the day before make an effort to visit cemeteries, both those of their hmilies and historical shrines such as Rachel" Tctmb in Bethlehem. Unlike the case for the Sabbath and most holidays, there are few laws governing belzaviour on tlze Festival of the New Moon. The only special prolzibitions obserwd by the w m e n concern laundry and sewing (work that can be postponed), The only rituai enacted by alf the elderly Mrarnen is lighting candfes for tlze dead on the evening of the New Moon. Most of them tight numemus candles, aiming to light one far each dead relatix. One infctrmant explained that on the evenlxzg of the Festival they (women of her ethnic group, Iraqi) light candles for Family members, wise men and scl~olars,anci saints who have died. When tlzey light the candles they do not recite a formal Hebrew btessing-theyapay that the soul of the deceased should be in @an Ederz [Heaven]? The type of candle is not important, She herself lights a combination of remembrance candles, big candles, small candles, Sabbath candles, Chanuka candles or whatever else slze llappens tcr have in the house. W a r : is relevant here is that according to my informants they did not light the Festival of the New Moan candles when young. One woman explained that when she herself was newly married there were no dead relatives for whom to light. As a young wife she wcruld Iight only one candle "for the Festival of the New Moon" (as opposed to "for dead relatives'". Upon questioning, howeve;f, it became clear that she now lights candles for relatives who w r e already dead when she was newly married, for distant relatives that she must have had when she was punger; and for fewish. saints who died two tlzousand years ago: even as a young woman she m u l d have had ancestors for whcrm to tight. But it is only as an old wctman that she has begun to light a multitude of candles each month, The women, then, differentiate between lighting New Mc30n canciles as a calendrical ritual and lighting New Moon candles as a personal-relationritual, and they shift horn one to the other in the ctrurse of their liktirnes.

m e n Jews from Europe began returning to Palestine at the end of tlze nineteenth and beginning of the twntieth century, the land was mostly barren swamp or desert, Thus, reforestation became an ixnportant goal for the early Zionists, On l"u b7Slzhvtat(the traditional fewish. lzofiday on which all trees are reckoned to become one year older) in I985 the w m e n of this study were taken by the Senior ClitixensQay Centre to plant trees in a new forest. As they planted the saplings they said, ""Ithe merit of my planting this tree, my family slzould lzave goer1 healthlhay pinessletrerything we need" IIJfantingtrees on lit b'Shvat is a modern, secular rituat, normally performed by Scouts, other ycruth organisations or tourist groups for the express ecolagicaI and political purpose of reforestation. When the elderly, Oriental women were taken to plant trees they created their own ritual, utilising a traditional verbal formufa and conception of the reiation-

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ship between God and humans. Cictntribrrting to the State and Land of Israel by planting trees in a new forest is assumed by the women to merit divine rewardeg The expected divine reward is expressed in personal terms-health for a child, fertiliy for a granddaughter, Wortlzy of comment is the Pact that tlzese illiterate, t~neducatedwomen feel competent to create a new rituaf within a broader religious system that has been more or less frozen h r a great many years, mile: rabbis continue to argue over tlze hulachic legality of reciting additional Psalms of praise (Halkel) on Israeli Independence Day these etderly wijmen are firmly convinced that any ccctntribution to the modern Jewish State is deserving of divine reward, They did not ask a [male] rabbi before perfetrmitlg this new ritual. Designed to enlist God's protection for their families, it lies within the women" sphere and in the women's judgement does not need rabbinical approval. Domestic Rejigon Following Geertz, most anthropologists today see religion as dealing with t~frimate concerns such as life, death and suffering (Geertz 1969). Yet life, death anci suffering are also the paradigmatic domestic concerns-it is in a domestic context that life is conceived, nurtured, declines and often ends. Xranicaily, the term ""dmestic religion" has been t~sedby antlzropologists anci lzistorians to indicate a relatively minor subset of' religious i~bservances.In the new fifteen vcctlume E~zpcEopediu of Religiorr, for instance, in a total of but seventeen pages various writers record examples of tlze domestic observances of Jews, Christians, Muslixns, Hindus, Chinese and Japanese (1987: vcctl. 4,400-17), The notion of domestic refigion is an important one, particuiarly but not exclusively for women, yet few writers have attempted to define either the parameters or the characteristics of' domestic religiosity. Mdithin the academic literature the term ""dctmestic" is used ambiguously, sometimes referring to the architectural category "house': at otlzer times to familial concerns regardless of where the action takes yltace. The first of these usages is problematic in that it arbitrarily and generally inaccurately excludes sites such as cemeteries from the realm of the domestic, while it includes rituals that physically take place in the house but that are otherwise tznconnected to the life of the hictme, (For examylte, an Orthodox Jewish man who wakes up too late to join the prayer quorum at the synagogue and instead closes himself into his study to recite tlze formal morning prayer service is indeed conducting a religious ritual at home, but neither content nor structure of the ritual. seems domestic.) The second use of ""domestic" "has some meaning in those (very few) modern, differentiated societies in which there is a clear distinction between kinship and non-kinship refated activity (Eisenstadt 1973: 23-4). But in the many simpler sodefies that anthropologists usually label as ""kxn-based" "(see Sclzneider f 984 for a critique of this term), this concepton of: domestic: religion cannot differentiate a particular sub-category within the religious world.

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Domestic religion clearly shares symbctls, beliefs, a ritual ftraxnework and a srzcred lzistory with the non-domestic religion of tlze same wider tradition: a Christian theologian writes a thec>logyof the crucifixion and a Christian woman whose child is ilf kisses the cross hanging on her living-rctom waII. Stmuftaneousty, if tlzere is meaning to the cross-cultural category of domestic religion, we should expect that the domestic religions of Iews, Christians, Muslims, Hindus, etc. share certain, other belieis, moods, motivdtions, themes and behaviour patterns. It seems that the muddle surrounditlg the concept of domestic religion is a result of treating it as a cluster of discrete rituals rather than as a religious mode. The difirence between the theologian" theology of the crucifixion and the woman" sssing of the crucifix when lzer cl~itdis ill is above all a matter of intent: the crutciffx-kisser is concerned with the lives and deaths of particular peoylte, not merely with life and death as abstract problems, I propose characterising the domestic religious realm very broadly as the arena in which the ultimate concerns of lik, suffering and death are personalbed. Thus domestic religion lzas to do with the lives, sufferings and deaths of partialjar, usually well-loved, individuats, This conception of domestic religion is useful in that it alfows for the possibiiity that tlze same symbol or ritual may, on different occasions, or on one occasion bat for different people, be both domestic: and non-domestic. A New Moon candle may be lit "fbr the holiday" "or "fbr the dead" Domesticity, then, is not an inherent clzaracteristic of any particular ritual, place or event-it is a. human interyre-etation of that ritual, place or event. The women of this study ffike the Hindu, Muslim and Christian Mromen observed by Beech 1982; Beck 1980; flanforth 1982, etc.) use their relationshipfocused concerns as a point of entry into the great tradition, while they simultaneously reinterpret aspects of the great tradition to meet their own relationship-foc11sed religious needs. t>omesric religion is not a particular subset of rituals, but a spiritual theme that pervades and organises the religious lives of many human beings, Throughout this article X have pointed out ways in which domestic ~ l i g i o ninteracts with the great tradition; X have describeci a process that f identifry as ""domwtication':As an analydcally meaningful term, domestication of refigion refers to the personalisation of religion, to the process in which people who profess their allegiance to a wider tradition use the rituals, symbols, institutions, mythology and even the theolofcrr of that wider system to address their personal, dctmestic religious concerns. In addition, human beings live in cornmunities in which larger groups of peaplc slzare common histories and interests. Thus, f see ccrntinuity rather than fracture between dcrmestic and non- or less-drrmestic religion. The example of the soIdters cited earlier l-righlights this point: the women move easily from concern with ''my own children" to ""tze soldiers, all of whom are like my children': Xn describing the religious lives of the Oriental Jewish wcjrnen, X emphasised how rituals or symbols become transformed when they enter or leave the domestic realm. W e n a literate Jewish man listens to the Tbrah reading in synagogue he is obeying a divine law, learning about the history of the Jewish people, and

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participating in the Iik of the community, When an ilfiterate Oriental Jewish woman listens to the Torah reading in synagogue, she is seebng the most efficacious moment, the moment when the channel of communication between human and God is most open, to ask God a personal favour for a particular, loved person (cf. Tapper & Tapper 1987; also see Turner's (1964) notion of the multivocality of symbols). A pervasi* problem in much of the academic study of religion is the tendency to treat the first set of motivations as more noble, beautifuf, important, eternal, pritnary or true than the seconcl set. This sort of treatment is ethnocentrism at its wcjrst: there is no reason to assume that the experience of the holy is any more immediak to a monk in a cell or a TgImudic scholar in a semtnary than to a woman lighting candles to protect. her family* It: is against this backgrotznd that Gilltigan's wc~rkon moral development becomes critical far anthropologists of religion. Giltigan points out that researchers u s i ~ ~the g classic six-stage Kshlberg scale of moral development have h u n d that women's moral judgments seem to remain it1 the third stage of the scale-the stage at which morality is equated with hetping and pleasing others-while men more often reach the sixth stage-where maraliy is understood as the subordination of relattonslziy to universal principles of justice," (In terms of the nomencfature that I have suggested in this article, women" smr>raldecisions exempXii;y-the domestic mode, men" the nondomestic,) Gilligan contends that " h e Failure of women [noted tlzrouglzout the psychological literature] to fit existing models of lzuman g r c j ~ may h point to a problem in the representation, a fimitatlon in the conception of human condition, an omission of certain truths about lik'"(6illigan 1982: 1-2). Gilligan's critique is two-pronged: slze questions the legitimacy crf a developmental scheme in which male moral modes are deemed tcr be more highly dewloped than fernale ones, and in which relationship and care are subordinated to ~~niversal rights. t Gilligank critique bears an The androcentric modet of moral d e ~ t o p m e n of uncanny resemblance to the evolutionist models propounded by Frazer ( l9 l 1-1 9 15) and other late nil~eteenth-and early twentieth-centq scllolars who posited a progressive scale in which ""magic" "precedes "~ligion"and the model for "religion" was literate, phiictsophicafly- and universally-orientedf Western rejigion, Modern anthroyologisl?i are ssagaciotls enough to avoid Frazr's evolutionist ancl terminological errors, Ho~wever,fanpage denoting religion in such terms a "fbfk"" (Christian 1987; Harrell 1986; Noy 1480; Foster 1953; and others), "cctmmon" (Hornsby-Smitl-tet al. 1985),""popular'"(114rooke 8F Brooke 1984; Overmyer 1980), ""cstornary" "c~rnsby-Smith et al. Reiljy 19851, ""practical'" (Leach 19681, ""pasant" wolf 1966),""local" "hristian 1981),and "the little tradition" "&field 1956; Obeyesekere 1968) does tend to brancl certain populations" and sets of rituals as tznsophisticated (teach 19681, ""magicaf or superstitious" "c>rnst>y-Smith et al. 1985: 247), or in some way derivative, subctrdinate or marginat. m a t seems to me far more significant in all of these ""rligions'3s an overarclzing emphasis upon the persc>nal: in all of these religious framewrks ultimate cttncerns tend to be expressed in the language of personal. relationship, and yer-

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sonal relationship bemmes a major determinant of partidpation in religious activity," In Fact, I suggest that tlze domestication process identified in this article has already been hinted at, albeit in a diffuse and often ambiguous manner, in most of the studies cited above, The Oriental Jewish women of Jerusalem participate in the sacred througlz caring for their kin, and they care for their kin through participating in the sacred, Tl-rese particuIar women are ritual specialists, ""dvotionat . . . virtuosi" (Christian 1972: 160) of tlze personallsacred mode. As iliiterate females they are excluded from significant aspects of ""great tradition" 'udaism, and as daughters, mothers and grandmothers they depend financially and emotictnally upon their ancestors ancl descendants. Howevef; their concern with loved ones and their excfusic>n from ecclesiastic hierarchies are far from unique. Just as Gilligan" rreassessment of theories of moraf development revealed a relaticznship-crriented moral voice, X believe that a serious and clear-sighted re-assessment of human religiosity will demonstrate tlze centrality of: relationship in the religious lives of most lay people and even of many religitrus specialists. The old women of Jerusalem allow us to glimpse an existential theme that underlies many religious rituals, moral decisions and human interyre-etationsof the hofy,

l . Fustel de Coular~gesin The urzciertt city f first prrbiislled 1864), described the eariiest religion of Greece and Roxne as ""dornestie religion" and "A family was a group of i?ersons whom religiorz perxnitted to invoke the same sacred fire, and to offer the funeral repast to the salxe ancestor" "956: 42). 2, hilost of these wrnen came to Israel before the establishment of the State In 194.58. I met with them at the Senior Citize~lsWayCentre, at their homes, and at synagogue, and accompanied them on trips to lwiy tombs and other shrines. Atthorrgh the municipal senior citizens3ay centres are formally open to all senior citizens, only Mrornen attend this one, and most actitrities held there are religious in nature, My field method caxzsisted of a combination of participant-observation,small-group i~lterviews,and in-depth intewiews with the more articulate informants. 3. This overview of the literature on wmen's reiigiorrs lives is itrtended as illustrative, not exhaustive. 4, F1t~luci-r~ is the total sFtem of Jewish law, and governs aimost every aspect of life. Its main attributes are that it is writte~l,developed and studied by men as a retigicius pursuit, and changes very siotuly, 5 , 111the Ilhlfnu~i""Sotah"'20a, it is writte~lthat it is forbidden to teach one" dnaugllter Torah. It is welt documented that arnong the Jewish c~mxnuxlityin Yemen it was widely bdieved that if women fearrled to read, natural disasters would occur (GiIad 1982: 62). In the modern Jewish world the Izulachm concerning wornell has not significantly changed, tllorxgh young women now attend school and learn to read. 6. Obviously; in diRerent societies peoiyle love and care for differerzt categories of peopIe: mqor affective bonds may be wirh parents, sibiings, childrell, friends, arxnts or uxlcles, spouses, etc..Hc>wever,I have not as yet seen an ethnographic or historical study of a cu1ture in which there is no Interpersonal: relationship that is corlsidered loving or caring.

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7, Qther popuiar organisations aiso orgartise htrs trips to tombs. Piilgrjmage Is a central feature of modern Israeli religion. 8, In the context ofthe Senior Citizensway Centre, "the soidiers" must aiso he seen as a neutral and uniQing symbol for the wolnell to discuss. All of the wotnen are Zionists and all have descendants w l ~ aare soldiers, thus they can all participate in conversations and rituals about soldiers without risk of horedosn, argument, or envy. 9, Concerxring innovative rituai dealirtg with Zionist themes, also see Shai (1980). 10. Whcn Giliigan refers to mate or female moral development she is indicating two differerzt themes or modes of thou$t, not an absolute correspondexzce. l 1 . The literature sllggests no consensus about who the ""fofk"" of folk retigios~are. Christian (1987), for example, stresses the agricultural carnyonexzt of Eolk retiginxz; Foster f f 953) defines folk religion as an urban phenomenon; and fur Redfieid (1956) the fuIk of the little tradition are the unrefiectitre masses. TI~ereis a simifar lack of cansenstzs cancerxring the content of folk, common, etc. religion, 12.1 am not suggestislg that all this terminolohy should be abandoned-most of the rtomenclature is useful in certain corztexts, and some is in fact specific to certai~zpoprriations. Nor am I suggestislg that all fczlk, popular, etc. rituals snr~sthave aa overriding personal ft3cus; e.g. popular passion plays may not be primarilry relationship-oriented.

References al-Hibr, A. fed.) 11382. Wome?z"sttiAies Irziernatinnuf Ibrum, Syeciaf Issue orz tyomen und Islam 5: 2, Neck, L, 1980. The religio~~s lives of Muslim wsnen, In Wrrmen in c~)nten~j?orary M~sJim societies fed.) J.X. Smith, Lorzdon: Associated Univ. Presses. Beech, M. 1-1. 1982. The dornestic realm in the lives of Hindu Mrosnen in Calcutta. In Sej~arate ~"~llrlds: stuclies f~OfpttrcinJ~ in sot-tthAsia (eds) H. Payrtnek t3r: G. Minault. Columbia, Missouri: South Asia Books, 13eriaim, S. U. 1980. Le pkilerinugejuqdcrs liecue sttirrts au i;2/1~rtac.Casablanca: Published by the a~xthor. 13eri-Ami, X, 1%1. Folk veneration of saints among the Moroccan Jews. III Stz~GEiesin ,hdaism urzd lTSEl~rn(eds) S , Morag el uE, Jerusaiem: Magnes Press. Nerger-Sofer, K. 1979. Pior~swornen: a study of wmen's roles in a Hassidic and pious cornm1xni"cy:Mea She'arirn. Thesis, Rutgers University. Nilu, Y. 11980. Tlze Moroccasl demon in Israel: the case of "evil spirit disease". E~Pzus8, 24-39, Ninford, M. 1980. Julia: an cast African diviner. In Falk & Gross 1980. 13ourguignot1, E,, A. 13elfisari & S. McCabe 1983. CYornen, possession tral~cecults, and the extended rttrtrient-deficie~zcyhypothesis. Am. Anthrop. 85,413-15. 13rooke, R, & C. Brooke 1984. Pt~plalarreligkn in the Mitidle Ages, London: Tharnes t3r: Wudson, NurfieId, U, 1983. Theosophy aad feminism: some exyltlrations in nisleteenth century biograplty. XII Hoiden 1983. Christian, W. 1972. Ijersarz crnd God in n Syurrl'slz valley*New York Seminar Press. 1% l. I,occll religion in shteenth century +airs. Princeton: Univ. Press. 1987. Folk religion: aa ovelview. 111EIiade 1987. Coulat~ges,F, de 1956, The ~uzcientcity Garden City: Doubleday. Danforth, L, M. 1982. Ilealh rituals ofrzrrtal C2reece. Princeton: Univ, Press.

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Mukfrerjee, P. 1983. The image of women in Hinduism. Worn, Stutl, int. &rum S: 4, 375-81.

Myerhoff, B. 1979. Nirtrzfierour cierys. NW tiiork: E, P. Dtrtton, Woy, D. 1980. Xs there a Jewish folk religion? XIS Studicrs in J e ~ r ji;llklore ~h (ed,) F. Taimage. Cambridge, Mass.: Association for Jewish Strrdies, Obepsckere, 6 . 11368. Theodicjr, sin and salvation in a sociology of Buddhism. 111LIZ^~IC"GIE^C z'ya prracrical relityion fed.) E. Leach, Gaxnbridge: Univ. Press. Over~nyer,U. 1980. Dualism and conflict in Chinese popular retigion. In Ili-ctrzsitions and tmnsformurion in the history Ofreligions (eds) F, E. Eley~solds8r: 71. M, Ludwig, Leiden: E. J. Brill. Pomeruy, S. 1975. Chddesses, ivhores, ivives and slur~es:tvclurren in clussicmI antiquity New k r k : Schocken Books. Itedfield, El. 19556, ljeusant society and culture. Chicago: Univ, Press. Keuther, R. R. 1979. ReEigisrz und sc>xs'srn:images ofwotner~irz thejmish alzcl ChrisiGzrz tradition, New York: Sirnon & Schttster. rush tor^, L. 1983. Doves and magpies: village w r n e n In the Greek Orthodox Church, Xn W<1merz"r;rc?2igiutds exj~en'erzce(ed.) P. Holdea. London: Cwc>mHelm. Schneidex, U , 1984. Gz'tique [$the st.trciz(t.ofkinsinzip. Ann Arbor: Univ, of Michigan Press, C>orrterni~ortz);), Slsai, U. 1980. Changes i11the oral tradition arnoag the Jews of Kt~rdista~l, J e w y 5,2-10. Shokeid, M. 1974. An anthropologicai perspective on ascetic bel~aviorand religior~s change, In Predi-iurrent of hourrecoming (eds) S. Deskell & M, Shokeid. Ithaca: Cornell Univ. Press. Islam. Tapper, N.& K. Tapper 1987. The birth of the prclylset: ritual and g n d e r in T~~rkish M r a ~(N.S.) 22,69-92. Thompsoa, C. 11983..Women, fertility and the worship of gods in a Hindu village. In Hotden 1983. systen.ts u ~ clyerz d mincls: the fimiu r;lf Turner, V. 1964. Symbols in Nde~nburitrtal. 111 (I'kt~sed naivety in sociul a r z t f i r o o (ed.) M . Giuckman, Chicago: Aldine, Wadley, S. 19880, Hirzdtr women's family and household rites in a north X~ldianvillage. Xn Falk 8: Gross 1980. White, S, J. 1980. Mother Guru: Jnanananda of Madras, India. XII Faik & Gross 1980. brbite, S. K. 11 381. Men, wcjrnen and misfortune in Bur~yoLe.Marz (N.S.) 26,350-66. Wolf, E. 1966, Pe~~surtts, Eaglewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Pretltice-Hail,

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Becoming a Mujercita Rituals, Fiestas, and Religious Discourses

This article anatyses the celebration of girisXfteentt.1 birthdays in a low-income neighbourhood of Guadalajara, Mexico, and argues tlzat this ritual is important for an t~nclerstandingof gencier identity in contemporary Mexican society. Through the analysis of personal narratives and social interaction X argue that the symboIism of the celebration of girls' fiheenth birthdys is connected to its perfetrmative aspects, to images of femaleness, and to the family status and s should be underrespectability of the actors. X argue t f i a ~ k i ritual stood within a contested space of different religious discourses promoted by clerical and lay agents, and that through celebrations of this ritual distinct aspects of self, gender and family identiv are emplzasized or denied, -A~at\tor"sAbstract

Introduction There have been few published studies of the celebration of girls-fteenth btrthdays in Mexico, especially among urban, non-indigenous populations (Cardenas 1987). Recent literature on gender in tzrban Mexico and Latin America has facused mare on class, ethnicity (e.g. Arizpe 1977; Beneria & RoXclan 1987; Nash & Sak 1976; 1986) and women" participation in social movements (e.g. Alvarez 1990; Logan 1988;Mdesw~od& Radcliffe 1993), than on the study of rites of passage (Lornnltz & Perez-Lizuar 1987) and life cycles, These latter themes were once clevelopecl in Latin American ethnograglzy by sclzolars working witlzit~the Culture and Personality approach (e.g. Diaz 1966; Lliaz-Guerrero 1975; Fromm & Maccoby 1970; Kernper 1977; Romanucci-Ross 19731, which later scholars

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rightly criticized for employing ethnocentric psychological paradigms and a nonhistorical, essentialist view of the self. Studies of women" participation in social mc>vt:mentsin Latin America have questioned essentialist views of wcjmen, deconstructed aspects of motherhood, elaborated on the role of rl-te state in gencier discourse and argued for a contit~uity between pubfic and private spheres (Craske 1993; Westwood 8r Radcliffe 1993). Moreover, recent theoretical work on gender identity has devefoped a fc~cuson tlze embodiment of gender experience and on the multiplicity of genclered subjectivity (Moore 1994) and has examined the negotiation of gender attributes in specific Mexican and Latin American cases f Gutrnann 1996; Wade 1994). This work is of considerable importance in the study of female rituals anci life-cycles as it opens up issues concerning the reversibility of gender acquisitions and therefc~rethe non-linearity of life-rituals. It has alst:, contributed to an awareness that metaphors of status completion-often used by anthropologists to analyse initiation rituals-hinge on a particular notion of yersonhoad (Strathern 1993). Xn this article I discuss the cetebration of girfs3fifteenth birthdays and show why this ritual has become important in the process of creation of fernate identity it1 a Mexican tow-income neighbourlzood, Both tlze jests and Mass, which tc>getherconstitute the ritual, ernbc~dya process of female self-becoming involving both continuities and discontlnrrities (Clrapanzano 1992: 262), as welt, as a public recognition of a girl's and lzer Pamily's social empowerment. The mrrtivations for celebrating these rituals, and indeed for not celebrating them, are important fbr understanding their meaning. X will present several case histories to show how decisions about whether or not to celebrate a feast for a girl" fitifteenth birthday-and on what s c a l e 4 e pend on a family" religious beliefs, on its respectability in the neigl-rbourhood, on its attitudes to girtskeducation anci on the negotiation of female attributes between clerical and lay agents and within and betwen families. The clerical agents who figure in this study are mainly part of the "new" Catholic Church-or, as it is called, the Church of the Gurnuuzidades Edesiules Je Base (CEBs), or "Christian Base CommunitiesY"."his CathoXic discourse challenges existing values a ~ a c h e dto ""tadidonal" rituals as far as the balance between religious cetebration anci popular 3estas is concerned. Priests lzave introduced a collectiw Mass instead of an individual one ttr celebrate the girls" birthdays and have criticized large-scale expenditure on jfiestas as aspects o f consumerism and gamily '"rotagonism" (that is, status-seeking). CEBs discourse has been considered a progressive "route to dernrrcratization" in inatin America, enabling people to see themselves as active "vctices" in the process of change (AIvarez 1990; Levine 1992: 291, even if in some cases it may still be used by tlze Church hierarchy to conxy ""taditicznal" values of hierarchical contrrrl (Levine 1985: 3 10). Howver, CEBs discourse has also been questioned-both by analysts and CEBs members-concernit~g whether it realy challenges gender hierarchies and advances the raising of female consciousness, or instead subordinates w m e n " issues to problems of economic injustice and oppression (Alvarez f 490;

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Urogus f 990: 66; Hewitt 1991: 64). In fact, the recent decline of participation in CEBs in Latin America, in favour of Evangelical ancl Protestant movements, is alst:, due tcr CEBsYifficulties in addressing issues of gender and race diversity and thus erasing internal differentiations among the poor (Burdick 1992: 183). X analyse tlze rituaf of:tlze fifteenth birthclay at three different levels: in terms of the form and content it assumes in CEBs discorzrse; through the exegesis of the religiorrs and sexual syrnhofisrn connected with the celebration as part of a process of: gencler and family identity; and finally, through a more detailed contextud analysis of this exegesis by means of case-studies. Such analysis reveals that the symbolism of tile rituaf is not fixed. Rather, different aspects of its symbofic potential are stressed depending on a girl's family circumstances and the participaintsbegotiation of constructs of gender identity.

The Sating This study was carried out in the colorziu papmtarhof Lornas Be Pctlanctt in the south of Cuadalajara (the second largest Mexican city). This neighbourhood has an estimated population of 30,000-the majority being employed as Pdctory workers, construction workers and street vendors. Since the early sixties it has been peopled by migrant settlers from the regictns of Jaiisctt, Zacatecas and Miclzoa~ypz.~ It is a famous neighbourhc:,c->din the history of Guadalajara due to a remarkable social mobilization-inspired by the intervention of Jesuits (Morfin Otero 1979; Sanchez f 979)-whtcil took place from the mid- f 970s until the late 1980s and led, after a tong confrontation with the municipal authorities, to free installation of a sewage system and other basic services. The Tesuits developed a strong n e ~ o r kof CEBs, inspired by liberation theology; however, since the beginning of: the 1930s, people's participation in tlzis movement has decreased due to a combination of factors, Basic services have been installed and economic the language of"@ hting for basic serstratification has increased. C~jnsequently~ vices'%nd of ""the communality of being poor" has had less resonance than it had in the 19'70s and 1980s (Nayolitano 1995: 56): once the mt>vement" demands were met, it tended to lose its reason for existing (Foweraker 1995: There are two parishes in the neighbourhood. Padre Nemo has been in charge of the parish of the Anunciacibn since 1989, and has been very h e n to renew the work of the CEBs. Padres Rodolfo and Jorge have had responsibility for the bigger parish of the Santa Magdalena. They support the CEBs, but are much less radical than the Jesuits and Padre Herno,

The Establishment of the Fiheeath Birthday Celebration The custom of clelebrating a girl" fifteenth birthday is widespread in Mexican society, It consists of:m Mass celebrated to give ""gracias a Uios7"thanks to God), folfowd by a$esta. The size of the party varies according to the means of the family and the godparents. This cetebration was originally a kast celebrated in upper

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and upper-middle class strata but it has now filtered down to lower sectors of the population. In cerfain contexts in Lamas de Polanco, tlze decision not to celclbrate the feast while having the means to do so or, ccrnxrsely, the inability to cetebrate it for economic reasons, can be read as signs of high or 1crw family status, The origins of the feast aar unknown ta people in Lomas de Potanco. Old women do ncrt recollect it in their accounts of the past. Middle-aged women remember that rich families in their villages of origin did celebrate the feast, but it was a custom only of the ""gente de dinero" (rich people). Same women younger than h r t y and brought tzp in the city have celebrated it, but here the celebration constituted a small family gathering without a real fiesta afiervvards, and no special dress was bought or made for the occasion,"n recent years, the celebration has gone out of fashion among the tzpyer and tzpyer-middle classes in Guadalajara. Girls prefer to celebrate their birthdays either at a disco or with a trip abrc)ad, as is the case in Mexico City (Lomnitz & Perez-Limar 1987: 166-7). The fifteenth birthday was originally celebrated as a bafl-a girl's presen~ationto high society. The symbolism t~sedin the feast recalled, and still recalls, elements of European culture (for instance, waltzes, performanes of classical music, maids of honour and pages). The first reports aftl-te feast started to appear in the Sociules (social events) section of Guadalajara newpapers during the early 1940s. There are n o chtzrch records, since the ritual is nota sacrament. Thefiat@was celebrated in the house, and was an occasion for making family connexions manifest, It reinfc3rced t ~ m i l y status and social ctrhesion among a specific social class. Womdays, press repclrts still present an "ideal" model of the celebration of the fifteenth birthday a standard unattainable by tlze population of Lamas de Polanco bat still deferred to by guince8eras (girls fifteen years old) and their Eamilies, These ideals are obviously acquired tlzrough the mass media, especially soap ayeras. Soap ayeras are a primary means tlzrouglz which images of upper-class life style and consumption patterns beccrme familiar to low income populations, and middle-class vatues are transformed into hegemonic ones. This is reflected, for instance, in the choice of the girl's dress or the ritual paraphernalia for the feast cetebration, as I discuss below. X n the cateclzism of this ritual, priests supporting the CEBs are crif caf of these forms of modernization, consumption and '"rotagonism" In the catechism class, which takes place in the parish of the Santa Magdalena a few days before the celebration, some of these issues are discussed. Other themes touched upon include the pbsical and psychological cl~angeswhich tl-tegirls are undergoing and tlze different ways at their disposal for becoming active agents in the community Church. The quincefieras are taught by Nubia, a female catechist, that a similar feast was celebrated in the time af tl-te Tiltecs ancl the htec warriors. Girls who t~ndertookthe celebration were ready to be chosen by a male of the tribe and taken tcr the mountain, Soon after, they become pregnant b r the sake of ""cmmunity" ~reyrc;,duction, References are also made to similar feasts celebrated at the beginning of tlzis cmtury in Jewish wmmunities, and to the balls intended to introduce girls into society among the middle-European upper class in the fast century. In this aflusive way the

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subject of sexualiq is introduced to the catechism class, and continuity with the past is refated to a "natural" "male sexual spatus. Howevex; that c.ontinui2-yis not traced via the girl" sown mother or grandmother. The catechist, and some qui~rce:effems,are aware that senior female relatives have nctt celebrated this feast. Nonetheless the celebration of the fifieenth birthdny becomes a c o n n e ~ o nwith the ""ancestors" a link with the past acted out in the present.

The Celebration: A, Wedding Without a Husband The ritual of the fifteenth birthday inwives girls learning abctut gender idendty and the construction of the female body. Xt does not corresponcl exactly to van Genneyk (19'77) ccrncept of a rite of passage, nor is it a process whose .fluidity is counterpcrsed to a static social structure (Turner 19'74).While it is constituted by moments of separation, liminality and reincorporation in the stages of the Mass and the fiesta, the ritual is not obligatory. Girls in Lomas de Polanco acquire the status of "'being a w m a n " with or withc~utcelebrating it. Rather, the ritual indicates w q s in which a girl's image is constructed by the actors inwtved; it atso affects the girl's own setf-perception, and enables certain fc3rxns of social control over the female body; The rite of passage starts with the Mass. The girl arrives at the church accompanied by lzer parents. She wears a balf dress, preferably pink or peach coloured. m i t e is not a fashionable colotzr, prc3bably because it is the ccrfotzr ofa"ral"' w d dings (this rite rreembfes a wedding, as X discuss betow). The ideaf style of the dress is ""nineteenth century': with big rouncl skirts, voile, embroideries and higlz lzeeted shoes. However, many families in Lomas de Pc~fancocannot afford this type of dress and so girls choose cheaper versions, often home-made by close relatives; dresses are seldom bought in the speciafized shops in the city centre. The girl is often carefully coiffured with various trinkets such as small artificial fluwrs. The girl, her parents, godparents and chambelano (male chaperon) watt h r the priest to come to the entrance of the church. Then the girl, on her godfather's arm, wafks in a procession tc>wardsthe altar, foffawing the priest. The ~Ftarrzbelurzo wafks and sits just behind her. "Tradition" "demands that the girl be surrounded by seven llamas (ladies) and seven chart-zbela~us,aft dressed in the same way, bat this is hardly ever the case in Lomas Be h l a n c o celebrations, thc~rzghwhenexr possible there is at least one chanzbetarzu," The girl is fed by her close relatives towards tlze altar, and is then left alone to receive the Mass. The cefclbration of the Mass can be interpreted as a lirninal stage, in which she is recognized as a newly born snujercita (little w m a n ) both in the eyes of God and those close to her. m e n the Mass is over, the quincefieru:leaves lzer bouquets of fresh flowers for the Virgin behind the altar. m i l e the girl entered the church with her gc~dparents, she leaves the church arm-in-arm with her chanzbek;lrzu,The qui~rcefieramay have a secret boyfriend behre her fifteenth birtlzday. If this is the case, the chnmbelunu is preferably not the same person; normally he is a friend of a similar age, ideally a few years otder, but never .)lounger than she is.

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Being ""handed over" to the chamhelano constitutes the first stage of her reincorporation. The chutnbetarzo's behaviour towads the girl is very different from his behaviour tr~wardsher in exryday life. He wears a suit and tie; he is very gentle to the quiutce8era and often arrives wit11 R~zwersfor her-acts which in another public context, at that age, might be interpreted as showing tack of masculinity. Like the separation, the reincorprrration takes place by means rrf a ""protecting" male figure, whose role is to defend the girl from unftamiiiar, rnafe, sources of sexual attraction. This phase of the ritual parallels the "!landing rwer" (rf the groom to his bride during the wedding celebration (which itself ends the peritzd in a girl's life initiated by the fifreentlz birthdq celclbration), This "handing over'ys symbofized by the muert2-t~. The muertiro is a little drama which takes place in some wedding$estazls in Lornas Be IJolanco: the groom is taken away by his male friends, stripped of scrme of his clothes and then given back to the bride who has to help him dress again. Xt portrays how marriage should end the sel&indrtlgence typical of a bacl.1elor llifestyfe, and makes the groom ""sbject" to the exclusive care of his bride. Most of the fifteenth birthdayfies~sthat X witnessed in Lomas Be Pt~lancatook place at home. Food is given to the guests after the opening dances, with tlze godparents served first. %lung guests ccrme to the party especially to dance and drink. The quinceffer~dances to the opening music, first with her godfather and then with her Patl~eror her maternal uncle if lzer Pather is absent. An important episode of the ritual is a special dance with the cbzczrrzbelarzo and, if present, the dlzmas, The quinceAeru often choreagraplzs a wafrz routine with her clzambelut~u.Some girls rehearse for as much as three months to learn the steps and ttr acqtzire enough confidence to perfczrm in, front of a large number of fi-iends and retaf ves. Xn lzer dance the cjtiir-tcefieraofiea directs the movements of the ctzarnbefa~ztl,thus leading him on a ptzblic occasion. W e n asked why they dance a waltz, quizceAer~sreply that it is somehow elegant: a quinceffer~ with~zuta waftz is nczt a real qt-lincefiem. Indeed, if tlze music was not a waltz tlzere would be no difference between a quince6era celebration and any other fie5lt.a. This dance is a powerful emotional experience, The girl is in the public eye and fear of "failing" m d appearing clumsy is a recurrent concern: I was very rxervorrs aborxt the waltz coming orrt fine. X was afraid of forgettitzg the steps, of getting embarrassed in froat of mall7 people, but never in my life wifl I forget that mornent (Ntrbia, catechist),

This dance, often interpreted by the clergy as a mere form without content (see below), is for tlze l$uinceAeru an experience of a new ability to perfetrm in pubtic, and of the emrrtions connected with a change in self-identity. The girl's tensions usually fade as the dance goes on and she, with her chambelarru, assumes mare self-confidence. As the fiesta devefoys, her parents and ofder brothers check that potential drunks are kept under control. The celebration generally ends around rnidnight.7 It is clear that the excitement, the nervousness and the sense of fulfil-

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ment that the fiesta and the bail generate are powerful bodily and emoticznal. experiences for the girls. In tlze words of one quincefieru: I felt realized, and it is better than the wedding celebration because you are innr>cent

about xnaly things, whereas now X see all the good and bad. . .At the fifteenth birthday cetebration, you are more fillfilled because you do not see what awaits you.

CEBs Disaurse: Changing Form and Content of Traditional RjtuaIs Anthrcryologicat readings of ritual as a means of maintaining social control and colzesion are very similar to CEUs%ttitudes towards celebrations of "traditional" rituals. "It) a certain extent, CEBshnderstanding of religious rituals and popular cetebrations is distinct from more orthodox Catholic interpretations, And CEHs discourse can only be fully understood if it is studied in, a complex religious arena inciuding different and often conflicting voices among tlle grassroots anci the leaders of the CEBs themselves (Busclick 1994: 196). The C1EIZs"~;oal is to ""use the symbols of popular religion and give them a new interpretation of their real meaning" padre Netno). In other words, tlze parishes" prrlitical wish is to fitt "traditional" and long-established rituals with "new and truthfix1 contents" This has happened, for instance, in celebrations of the Virgin of Guadalupe, when in sermons and social drama the Virgin becomes an "Amazcm" aiding the effc~rtsof enslaved people in the process of liberation, rather than a passive listener and consoler of human sadness as she is p o r t r a ~ din the images of the "~aditional"Churcll.The Virgin is a polysernic symbol in Mexico, whose imagery can stand both for sufferings which give strength and legitimacy ttz w m e n (Methuus 1992: f 59) and h r the redernpticzn of the communizry;since the power of giving birth and caring for children can be seen as balancing out male political setf-interest and ccrrrmption (Martin 1990: 4861, Tilus, the metaphor of fighting for social justice, which the CEIZs have introduced, imports a ""new" "nse of resistance into a ""traditional" vsybol. Moreover, the fiestas promoted by the Curnunz'dades focus on the communal gathering rather than on the diwrsions, the fczod and the music: the Mass sllould evangelize on social anci political injustice, and expenditure on entertainments should be kept down. But some b e t i e ~ r soppose such changes since the cetebrations lose the ambience they used to have in the village or on the ranch. Consequently, the dismissal of "~l-aditional"devices typical of villagefiestas, and the intrariuction of "newm-sociall)Iy and pcrlitically oriented-contents in the celebration of the Mass by some clerical agents chatfenge the ""traditional" Catholic division betwen the munciane, the political and the religious, and raise questions about what a ""traditional" alebration is, and who controls it. The celebration of the fifteenth birthday in Lomas de Pc~lancoalso raises issues about the ""new" "contents of "traditional" "riruals. Since the fifreentlz birthday celebration is not one of the seven Catholic sacraments, and is a relatively new ritual, the interpretation of it is an open fietd bctth for clerical and pastoral agents.

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Catholic teaching stresses girIs"'cktseness to naturen"he purity of their bodies at tlze Mass should cause them to honour God for their having arrived ""itact'bt this print in life. The Mass alst:, stresses the duty to ""take a right path"" and becttme part of the community by participating in activities such as children" cateclzism, youth tlzeatre, choirs and Comurzidadw.Vailure to participate in suclz community activities is interpreted as a lack of maturity and an inability to accept the responsibility appropriate to a mature Catholic person. Since the arrival of Padre Nerno and Padre KocZolfc~,the celebration in Lomas de Potanco has taken place in grotzps, but tensions betwen family and ccrmmtznity toyalties have arisen in relation to this comrnunaX celebration. Some families have accordingly decided to celebrate the Mass in parishes outside Lomas de ktanco. In the Santa Magdalena, all the quinceseras who have their birthday in the same month go to Mass on the last Saturday of that mtrnth. Padre Rodotftz and Padre Jorge, in their sermons, underline that this Mass reaffirms the prindple of tlze baptism as a rlme-vveci initiation into the life of: tlze Catholic Church." A former priest in the Santa Magdafena, Fadre f-fermiliil:,,prrints out the problem the Cl-rurch Faces in understanding and interpreting a "new" ritual which acquires importance in people's lives, However he, like the other priests in Lomas de hlanco, emphasizs a search for ""meaning" stressing the "word" abc:,ve the "act': There is a l s e a n d we mtzst not forget it-a xnentality which is not easy to change. It looks for the celebration without catechism, the act witfaoui w r d s . . . The majority ofthe people want the Mass as a step in order to celebrate the ""fiesta" wwhh is soxnetimes reduced to an expressiorz of corrsrrrneris~nand of a materialist society (Crtrclenas Gonzalez 1987: 122; my translation and e~xphask).

The polarization between a meaningf~~f act ancZ a "fiesta in itself" is drawn in tlze catechism t~sedby the Gurnulaidades. Padl-es Kodolfo, Nerno and Hermilio believe that the Mass for the fifteenth birthday entails a transformation of girls" cttnscitzusness and focus of act-ion from familial and personal to communaf levels. Padre Nerno and Padre RocZoffo affirm that people need to overcome the individtzalistic and egoistic tendencies which create ""protagonism" This cefebration-to them-becomes an o y p t ~ t u n i t y for strengtl-rening a sense of community ratlzer tl-tan. an occasion for Fdmity status differentiation. ""E"wotagonism" in the words of the priests, is associated with individualism, tzrban atomization and materialist cultlure, The ""resistance" of a part of the population to a communal celebration suggests that additional issues are at stake, Riests and their assczciates underestimate the importance of the Mass and the fiesta as experiences in the process of the creation of female self-identity. The fifteenth birthday celebration is ""the day" oaf the girl: in fact, the priest has to address each girl by her name; otherwise "if the priests do not call her by name, it is not her Mass" "adre Hermilio). This reflects tlze fact that a girl's name is very rarely used in speaking &out lzer. A girl is ""re daughter of the woman who sells chickens . . . the daughter of those wha sell

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facos . . . the daughter of my godfather" m d so on, usages which, to a certain exteat, imply that she is not recognized as a full social person. The cetebraticrn of this feast also highlights a tension between a ycjung w m a n k desire for freedcrm, and the ""respectability" which her hmily maintains tlzrouglz its contml over her. On the one hand, the girl is the centre of: the feast and expects subsequently to receive more freedom of action and decision-making witlzin the close family environment. However, this freedom i s rarefy granted, and family contml actually becomes greatex=The fiestas, being a form of differentiation of family status, ccrnstitute an important moment for a girl" self-identity and h r the identity and reputation of her family. Thrctugh CEBs\vangelization people may become "aware'9hat fiesta can entail "mnecessary" hancial commitments; nonetheless many spend considerable amounts, regardless of these criticisms. Becoming a M u j e ~ i t aThe : Time of Illusion X slzall now analyse the symbolism of the fifteentlz birtl-tday celebration in the tight of:several case-lzistories, In common language, the fifteenth year is referred to as the mrrst gtorious fcir a girl, Expressions such as parece de quince ("you look very well"; literalfy, ""you took like a fifteen-year-afdf'), te pusiemn c o r ~ uilna de quince (literally, ''they made you like a fifteen-year-crld" meaning that the person has reccrvered completely from some iltness) identil;y this age with physical health and vigour, In the imagery of both young and older women in Lamas de Polanco, the fifteenth year represents a period of illusion, fm ilusilin de fw quince: You are like: blossoming flowers . . . what will shine is not your dress, btlt your soul, the purify of your sorrl . . . now you can reaily start to he somebody (Nrrbia).

The time of: illusion in female life is tl-tat period when girls hope to enjoy themselves before assuming responsibility for their own Families, The expression is tzsed by women of various ages, but it can also be used by fathers to refer to their daughters, This period continues throughout the engagement, and revctlves around a "Fantasy" ancerning life ancl, especially, love. The iiheenth birthdq celebration cc~incideswith the acknt3wledgment by the family (especially the father) that a daughter is ready to have a sweetheart (if she does not have one atready). The Father gives her the permiso de porta (literally, the licence of: the door), the authorization to see her boyfriend on the threshold of the house for a set period during the evening. The times and modallties of this licence depend on the strictr ness of the father and the willingness of tl-te motl-ter to ""cover" k ~ daughters when they break the rules. A girl is expected to fulfil family duties we11 before her fifteenth birthday The girl already knows house duties. The ritual can mark a transformation of:appearance (the use of make-up and Eashicrnable cfothes), but the transformation is part of an ongoing process that has started well before fifteen, In this sense the fif-

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teenth birthday celebration embctdies a process of change rather than a clear-cut step from one irreversible stage to anotlzel: The qt-lincefieradrtring lzer feast may receive a range of presents (perfumes, tights and make-up, and also teddy-bears or other stuffed animals) which mark a ctt-existence of chifdhctad and adolescent elements. The fangt-lageof:m mujercitu also changes: slze can no tonger use the jargon of street play and must amid the tzse of uncontrc>Iled,ycruthful expressions, Hcrwever, this cttntrcrl is not perceived as a move away from childhood: Now it is necessary to know what one does and why one does it and to be able to decide, Rut I still feef like a child. We carry childhood within us and w never should iose it. For that reason 1like to play with my littie sisters (Angelica,a qtdincefiem), The extent to which some elements of piay and childhood are maintained after the age trf fifteen depends on girls"ersonalities, their relations with the other sex, their roles within tlze family and on the degree of family control. In this sense the ritual does not point to a linear evolution but to caexisting, multiple and sometime antithetic: aspects of femaleness, and it dcres not just imprint a social status on a girl, but ""bings out the social relations of Mifiich she . . . is compctsed" (Strathern 1993: 48). Some mrrthers remarked to me that at this age daughters start to be more selfish towards their brothers and sisters, They become more helpful in the house, but at tlze same time start to carve out their own "pivate'%pace both metaphorically and physically; their "territory" may well be just one corner of a room, which is often shared with other sisters. Moreover, the process of becoming a mztjercita takes place through becoming acquainted with a specific female knowledge-such as changes in female bodily shape and cycles-which has to be kept from the other sex and must not be shared with brothers or fathers. The religious message of sexual purity connected to the ritual relates to this body of hawledge. The Mass for a quince8el-a is cetebrated to thank God ""d no haber fracasadcr': Fracasar means to break badly as a result of hitting or being hit, Metayhoricatly, it signifies becomitlg pregnant and therefore losing virginity and ixnplies tlzat the girl's body is an unpenetrated whole. Fracasar takes place when this whole is seen as broken. However, fracasar is a redeemable state, as becttming a mother is valued in itselk irrespective of tlze Fdct of being married or not (Melhuus 1992: 175). Through the symbolic values of the elements used in the feast, the ritual ccrnstructs an image of female ""gntieness" c%eaufy"and "magic" outside of everyday reality. The dress ancl lzairstyle of the cjuir-tcefieru, the cushions ancl champagne gtasses that she may receive from her gc~dmothers,all refer to these conceptions of purit-). The fieeenth birthday celebratictn, as the beginning of the time of illusion, thus suggests a whole female body celebrated in its integrity unpenetrated by "reali~"-or protected from penetration so as to enhance the status and reputation of the EamiIy.' This integrity should last until the wedding, because sexual intercourse ancl reprodrtction are part of that ""reality" associated with the end of the "&earnedn "male freedom, and with the subordination of a ""brofeen body" "3 family control. This is the case with some single mothers in Pctlanco. Families re-

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act in various ways 16) pregnancies out of wedlock. If the father of the baby does not want to reparur (""mencl'" the situation by marrying the girl, she will turn to her gamily, Parents, and fathers especially, may react by banishing her from the family home while she is pregnant and sending her to some relative" house. However, after the birth of the child she is reaccepted into 6~milylife on condition that she accepts certain stringent limitations of her freedom. If the time of ""xlllusion" b r a girt is related to ideas of enjo~ymentand mate kindness duriizg courtship, the representation of the time of ""nlality'3s characterized by female suffering, male jealousy and lack of care, Girls of fifteen know that the time of "realityt2is ass~clated~ 4 t female h hardship and male betrayal-even if they often say tl-tat tl-teywill marry a man who will not make their life misetdbfe. If the Cathc~licsymbolism of the fifteenth birthday celebration relates to a girl's virginity, the girl herself may value the ritual experience for quite diffierent reasons, because the reality of her life may be discordant with some of the symbolic meaning of the ritual. Such was tlze case with Tdnia, a pregnant girl who celebrated her fifteenth birthday and married a few months later. Everyone in her family, as well as the priest, knew of the sttua"eon but the celebration took place nonetheless, even if in a lower key tlzan is usual. The chumbelu~zowas her 6ancC and she danced the waltz just as any other quince6era. She had daydreamed for so long abctut this feast that her pregnancy did not deter her from undertaking it, The celebration of tlze ritual of becoming a mujercita cannot be denied to a girl by the fact of being pregnant, even if unmarried pregnant women shorzld not take part in public rituals (Arnold 1978). The experience of being celebrated ixz tlze ritual, and the enactment of daydreams, can be stronger than the symbolic message of virginal purity that the ritual embodies. In this case the ""rality" of a female ""broken" body coexisted with the representation of a time of ""illusion" in which the body was still "t~nbroken'; Moore (1994a) has stressed that the representatix aspect of gender-that is, the imaginative and perfcjrmative dimension-needs trt be re-represented and resignified through social action such as rituals. This is because tlze experience of the engendered body often resists social discourse, which imposes a regime of intelligibility of the body itself. The ritual of the fifteenth birthday kast and the time of ""il-usian" which the ritual initiates are also itnaginative experiences in which gender categories are re-represented and sometime resisted; they embody "fiitntasies" of identity which retate to certain forms of power and agency within and between genclered subjects (Moore 1934b: 66). In conclusion, thejesta of the fifteenth birthday celebration is, so to speak, a real ctxperience about ""Ilusory" time, The emphasis which the CEBs place on the meaning of communality tends to ignore the relevance which the drama and performance have for the t~niquegrrals of individuals (Parkn 1992: 17; Turner 1982). This aspect becomes central when the fifteenth birthday celebration fails to corresponcl to its socially ancl religiously approved meanings (as in Tdnia's example) and explains also why many guina2era.as decide to opt out of the commtznal ritual by celebratil-rgtheir fifteenth birthdays in parishes outside Lomas de Potanca.

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Celebrating or Not Cdebrating The fifteenth birthday is not cetebrated by all girls in Lcrmas de hlanco. Its celebraticrn-or omission-enhances different, sometimes conflicting, aspects of female identity as well as different class positions and their representations, If a family is k e n to cetebrate a daughter" fififteenth birthday, the feast can take place in various forms. The most expensive fbrm involves the nuciear family, together with godparents anci other members of the extencied famify, pooling Rsources to rent a baflrc~urn,Although I heard of such occasions, I never c~bserwdone in Lornas de Pcrlanm, Similar expenses are incurred if the fiesta is held in the viltage of origin of one or botlz of: tlze quincefieru's parents. Opting to celebrate a life-crisis ritual in the vilfage rather than in Ltrmas de h l a n c o not only informs the village of the status of the migrant family, but also reinforces a tie of belonging on the part ~ t fthe offspring even if they were, as is often the case, bctrn in the city In these circumstances, the parents may express the wish that one day the quincesera marries someone from the village. In other cases, the celebration may take place in the open air-perhaps on a farm that a relative or a godfather has put at the disposal of tlze family* In most cases, the party is held in the family hrrme in Ltrmas de h t a n c o and a stereo system and lighting are rented or a band is paid to play live music, Wowever; if the fdmily cannot afford the kast or is not keen on tlze cefclbration, the birthday may be celebrated with a generous meal at hrrme betwen close relatives, The main reason why some girls celebrate their Mass and others do not is ecttnomic: the cast of the whole feast varies, but if there is live music, it is at least around a million and a half pesos (arotznd 500 U.S. dollars, before the peso" devatuation in f 9C)4).122ff the immediate famify does not lzave the means, resources are pooled within the extended family; often godparents help to cover part of the cost, by paying for the dress, the food or the music. Wonethetess, financial difficulties are not the onXy factor to prevent the celebration from talki~zgplace, Girls who do not cefclbrate the feast can be divided into two groups: those from lzouseholds in straitened eccrnomic circumstances, and those who prefer to spend tbe money in a different way-such as swing to buy a small car. The omission of:the fifteenth birtl-tdq celebration by well-off families is a sign of distinction. Families such as the Ortega, whose members-both female and mate-have achieved considerable educational and professional. status and who are highly respected within the neighbourhood, took down on the feast. The professional status of the Ortega sisters has put their relationships with men on a different footing, For this family, the celebraticrn of the feast wc?utd not have been a sign of:distinction, because the public rec-rognitionof rl-te dauglzters' rights to have boyfriends was not a priority for them at the age of fifteen but only tater, once they had finished their education, There was no need h r their ftarnily to celebrate tlze iiftclenth birthdq feast to improve tlzeir status within tlze community; on the contrary, this wcruld have lowered the family to a social level to which it did not want to belong. The decision of the Ortega family was an attempt: at both indi-

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vidual. and family emancipation from comrnunaf identity, The celebration of the qt-lincefiemcan thus be interpreted in two different ways. XI is a demonstration of family status and prestige. However, it can also be regarded, especially by the middle classes, as a vufgar celebration which enhances aspects of fernate identity and sexuality with which they do not want to be associated. Some girls attach great significance to the cetebration of the Mass or to holding a family gathering; other girls privilege the importance of the feast-"heir feast"-over tlze experience and the content of the Mass. Girls who have dropped out of schoot at an early age, and those who are still stuclfying, tend to emphasize quite different meanings of the ritual. Girls at schoof are more protected by the Family than girls who already work, and they often have to decide between studying or having a boyfriend (courtship on a regular basis occupies part of every evening). In the majority crf cases, a girl's freedom of mt>wment after tbe quirzce is reduced, as she can see her boyfriend only in the presence of a third person such as a younger brotlzel: Milena, the fifteen-year-old daughter of Cuca and Juan-thvo active members of the Movimientrt Familiar Cristiano (MFC), a relatively traditional Catholic gmup-lzad daydreameci about her fifteenth birthday celebration since slze was twefve. Her parents encouraged her to undergo it, She dropped out of schoot because she was bored but had not yet fcjund a job. Six months before her birthday Milena started to think seriously about the celebration. She looked at dresses, saved tzp a part of her w e H y pcrcket money, and found a little job to help meet expenses. Milena had gone out with her boyfriend since she turned fc~urteen.Her parents insisted she only meet lzirn in front of the house ancl did not go to fiesta with him. Since finding a boyfriend, she has dropped previous male friendships. Even her &male friendships have been reduwd, since she and her bclyfriend criticize female gatherit~gsas a sotlrce of unpleasant gossip. Miitena spoke of her quince as the moment at which she will take "the right path"": "Up to now X have fe'ett anfused. X can be led astray by friends, But after my fihticeenth, X will be able to see what is more appropriate" The process of becoming a mujercitu takes place through a new awareness of male intentions so that "you do not let them manipulate p u , and you learn to choose" "ubia). Mifena herself did not trust her boykienci to take her out on her own before her qt-lince. Like many girls in Lomas de IJoltanco, Milena was not sure that her family could afford the celebration until a few w e k s beforehand. But, with the help of relatives anci godparents, her feast was celebrated with a special attendance by some couples from the NFC, The attitude of Milena5 m h t h ttrwards her quirzce was a mixture of pride and worry Cuca feared that Milena would get married too soon after her 6fieentl-tbirtlzday, because she had already been going out with her boyfriend fbr some time. Her concern was that ""she wc>uldstick tcr the first" making the same mistake as her mother, who regretted having embarked upon married life so p u n g and inexperienced. Milena" power within the family changed visibly a few months after her feast, She was more often in charge of the houseuvark. She used to play and argue with

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her younger sister, but now she cafled her mi hga, "my daughter" a term used to mark a status diFfeicen~e,~J Milena behaved differently with her Pather too. She tzsed to hug trr kiss him when he left for work, but then her physical relation with him became more distant. She often complained that her brctthers no longer took her out to fiestas because girls might tlzink she was one of their girlfriends, Sabrina, the first of four children of Alfonswa co-ordinator of the CEBs as wll as the MFC-did not think aE clelebrat-ingher fieeenth birthday with a feast. Alfonso had to leave his job becat~seof ill health. The household budget was tight, but priority was pltaced on investment in the children" education, Sabrina and her parents hoped she w u l d eventually be able to attend universitye Sabrina's parents' experience in tlze CEBs made them sensitive to the priority of the Mass over the feast: There is no need t-u spelld su xnuch for a feast, F a a t is more important is the Mass in order to give thanks to God, and fiaving a small family gathering. These are many people who get into debt to have a good feast, but it is better to spelld un schooling f Elsa, Sabrina's smother). The message w s assimilated by the daughter, and Sabrina asked just to cetebrate the Mass. Slie was a m r e that her father worked only part-time, and that her parents were doing their best to support her higher education. Sabrina had never had a secret sweetheart, but after her birthdq she asked her fatlzer for permission tt>go out with a schootmate, However, she clearly stated that she w s not going tt> be distracted by him, E-ler enert;y and effcrrt were fcjcused on finishing her schooling, and, she hoped, goit~gto university, She also wanted to save to buy a small car. She herself was surprised, a few weeks before her birthday by the insistence of her parents (especially her father) that they celebrate her quince aAos. Aaffonso was aware from his experience in the Cumtdnidades that there was no need to spend money on this feast, and that other people in the parish wotzld have understood his position. Wowevet; Sabrina was the first of his four children and the only dauglste~For Alfonsa, it was important that lzis dauglzter-towar& whom, in Sabrina's words, he was extremely protective and jealous-should cetebrate the feast. Her father was very strict with her and justified his insistence on the cetebratinn by stating lze wanted his daughter to have a nice memory of her cjui~ce; after aff, Sabrina was his consentillu, (""pivileged one"") In the end, Sabrina w s pleased to celebrate her feast-at home and on a reduced scale-because she felt the centre of attention. The cases of Ester and Julia, on the other hand, suggest that the relative impclrtance of the Mass and$wta is connected with the degree of family control over a girl's sexuality. Ester had been working since she was ten, and now worked as a. shop-deaner. She was not fully literate, but looked older than her years becatzse she used make-up and tight clothes with confidence. Ester was born in a casa ~ k t i c u She . ~ has had a boyfriend since she was twelve, and went ttr fiestas with friends until late at night. Neighborzrs commented upon her hanging arorznd with various male friends and her mother admitted that she could not "contrctl" her very easily.

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She Is very rebeliious. Sornetime I cannot bring 11er i~zsideat ten, hut at eleven . . . she wants to enjoy herself, but needs to realize that if she finds herself with something f i.e. pregnant), then X will be not resyorzsible: she will he.

The godp~tlzerand sponsor of her fifreentlz birthclay celebration was supposed to be one of her former employers, but at the last minute he withdrew and ccrntributed only some of the meat So she bctrrowd a wedding dress from a friend, bought some shoes and paid for the music. After the feast, the p~mitywas absoltztely irnyc>verishedand probably had to go without some meals, while the house looked run-down and badXy maintained, This family spent more on thefiestu (they rented a live band) than other, better-off>families in Lomas t>e Polanco on similar occasions, For Ester, the Mass was not as important as the fiestzl and the ball, However, she seemed disaypoirlted at the m y the feast turned out because there were some fights towards the end and the music was not as goad as she exyectecl. Slze also expressed disappointment that almost none of lzer extended family, who were expected to come, turned up to the fiesta, The glamorous atmosphere of an ""outstanding" &day, in contrast to the daiiy life-style of her p~mily,seemed to be Ester" stmngest motivation for celebrating the fiesta. Her precociorzs habits, her relationship with her mrrther, and the farnily's ccarefess housekeeping were negatively judged by their neighbcturs. She was not seen as having ""honour" nor was lzer Family. These were probably some of the reasc>nswhy the neighbours did not attend the feast. Ester" case shows an aspect of femaleness that claims freedom and pleasure, and rejects subordinatictn to parental authority juana seemed an oppcrsite case. Her family" control over her was much stronger, She sttrdied as an accountant and was not affowd to go out with friends to$estus. She spent much of lzer time at home, ancl was described as very resyonsible by her family. She wore fashionable clothes and light make-up, but without being provocative, Jrxana had two older sisters and an oXder brother who poated money to buy her a dress and sponsor the rental of a sound system and lighting equipment for the fiesta. Her father, a chief building worker, bought the necessaries for the party, Juana's fiesta was considered a success by her family and friends, even though it lacked live music, In contrast to Ester's case, the unity of juana" family and its respectability in the eyes of neighborzrs contributed to a positive outcome. Juana especially enjoyed the Mass ancl having all her Family around her. After the celebraticrn she described the intense emotion she feft at being near the altar and receiving her Mass, Mow she wished, after her fifteenth, to have more responsibility as she was ""not a child any more': She wanted to commit herself fttlly to her study and work. Her mrrther felt protective tr~wardsher, not because she mistrusted Juana but because of the bctys who might deceive her, In her words: "if the girl lzas more tlzan one boyfriencl people talk badly about lzer. But tlze boy can have more than one girtfriend at the same time!" In respecting her family" rufes, and accepting the need to be protected from tlze danger of male sexual intentions, ftlaaa-unlike Ester, who seemed to look

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for dangerous enmunters-embodied the ideal symbotic meaning of the cetebration of a cjuinccr6"iu;ru:submission, virginity and contmi of the female body, whiclz require ""appropriate" &ess, language and social relationships with the same and the opposite sex. The cases of: Ester and Juana show that this rite of: passage entails tensions between different aspects of male and female sexualities, Female sexuality should be cttntrctlled, kept awllly from male "wandering" (i.e. philandering). But at the same time virility is measured in relation to a man's capacity to attract and dominate the opycrsite sex (Wade 1994: 129). Female sexuality-when manifested in circumstances of mate "wanderingw-becornes threatening to family order because it is deceitful and uncontrolled (Martin 1990: 478). Yet some girls may actively look for sexual encounters. The fifteenth birthday celebration, then, bea~mesa theatre for different and o&en opposed female identities, as is the case in some other rites of passage related to female puberty f Wilson 1980: 62 t ), The cases of Milena, Sabrtna, Juana and Ester show that the same ritual can enhance different aspects of wt~manhorsdin relation to the life-styles and religious beliefs of girisYamities, A celebration heid by a -Eamifyinrrofved in the CEBs (such as the family of Sabrina) tends to be less ostentatious than one held by tlzose only involved in more "trradititsnat" Catholic groups (for instance, the family of Miiena), because sar7tng.s may be inwsted in a daughter" educatictn or in the acquisition of valuable commodities, rather tlzan. in tlze fiesta,

As we have seen, the fifteenth birthday celebration has acquired new meanings in the language of the CEBs, These new meanings emphasize the priority of cornmunaf identity over fdmily and individual ""yotagonism" Priests and their assistants criticize ""l-aditionat" as expressions of an idea of the family as a ""cctmpetitive" unit which wishes to increase its social status, The performance of:(and, indeed, tlze failure to perform) the fifteenth birthdq cetebration dearly carries a meaning trf sc->cialdifferentiation and transformation of female social status; howevet; the ritual also constitutes an important moment in the process of Female identity and self-perception because it opens up a time of negotiation within the family ccrncerning control over, and definition of, the female sexual bctdy, This phase ends with married Iife, when the time of ""itlusion"-the time of suspended disbetiefs-can be extended no tongel: CEUs-iscourse-which o&en de-emphasizes issues of gender hierarchy in favour of ideals of the ctdmmunality of the ""yoorW-fails to a certain extent to grasp the importance of the body and embodied experience in the ritual in the formation of: female identity, Instead, it emphasizes the roots of the ritual in a ""mythical" past which, rather than stressing the singularity of specific villages or ranchos, enhances the cammunafity of memory. The drama of the ritual constructs the female body through images of virginity and metaphors of the bctdy as a vessel to be presemed intact. The time of"il1u-

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sion" wwhh begins with the ritual, indicates the new complexity of a dimension of female identity. Girls acquire new responsibilities towards their Pamilies, while their wish t ~ engage r in courtship demands a loosening of family control. Girls are symbolically handed aver to the rnafe domain, but they also experience self-empowerment in the ritual. After tlze ritrtal, however, their freedom of action is often reduced, as well as their autonomy in relation to the male domain-this tighter cttntrctl being one of the causes of early marriage, The ritual thus expresses discontinuities as well as continuities (Crapanzano 1992) in the process of becaming a rntljerca'ta. Tl-re ritual cannctt be reduced, as the CEBsYisctturse implies, to its fu'uncticzns of Family status differentiation ancl ""cnsumytion? On the other hand, the ritual cannot be hlly understood if we focus only on its symbolic level: on the ways it marks sexual boundaries, and helps to construct the fernate body as a vessel which needs to be defended from male philandering. The ritual is a perfc~rmat-ive act, an experience which may or may not be part of the process of creation of: female self-identity. Indigenous exegeses of the ritual (and, indeed, of reasc>nsfor foregoing it) need ta be understood within the context of particular sets of family relations-whiclz are very heterogeneaus-ancl also differillg contexts of religious discourse and perceptions of class and status. For a wide range of eccrnomic and other considerations affect peoples2ecisions about whether to celebrate the ceremony and, if so, on what scale.

The material in this article is drawn from m y thesis (Nagotitano 11395),based on eiglltee~l rnonths of fieldwork bemeer1 the summer of 1990 and the spring of 1992, Eunded by the Universiq of London Scholarship Fund, I am in great debt to Kichard Fardon, Peter Wt>rsley, loft11 GIedhifl and Stephen Hugh-Jones for their insightf~~i comments orz early and later versions of this article, l. The CEBs are Catholic groups for biblical reflection organized at street level and based on "residential vicinity and local knowledge" "atlck 19885): t 3). Faitowing jiberation tl~eologyteaching, they aim to raise consciorxsnessso as to act against social injrrstice and improve solidarity and living conditiolls amollg tlie underpriviteged. They are orgaxzized at the level of the parish, but are aiso part of regiortal and natiortai networks. 2. A colonia yro~~tdlav is a low-incomc neighbourhood. Its degree of economic homogeneiv can vary but the term jmf~ullzrrefers always to its class compcrsition, 3. Many factors have i~lfluencedmigration to Guadalajara, such as the shift from staple to cash crop cultivation, the freezing of official prices fbr basic agricuit~iralproducts and the concentration of services and economic activities (Qrtjzco 11389), but we shcruld not fcirget that, in xrmally cases, individual" rerzsoxls for migration may override collective l~ousehoidinterests (Melhuus 19992: 62). 4, My data were collected before the dramatic devaluation of the peso in December 1994. However, the economic crisis of the early 1980s-connected to the faII of oiit price-had already resulted in a decrease in the buying power of factory wages, an increased inft~rmalizatictnof the market econorny and a higher female participation in It.

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Nevertheless, Lomas de Polanco is a special case, as it Is becoming a ""centre" "for the perii3hery since a huge and well stocked street xnarket takes piace twice a week; this attracts customers from surrorxnding areas and has pushed up horrse prices, especially around the street market, obliging mally fa~rriliesrenting and jiving on very iow incornes to lnove out Into Iess expensive r?teighborrrhoods. 5 , LeVi~lehas pointed out in a study carried out arnong wcjmen in Cuernavaca that this feast has been celebrated by workirzg-class families since the 1950s (1993: 60). 6 , There may be a corresponde~~ce between the ideal number of ~lttnzms,chum!~eEt~nos and the girl. Fourteen people (seven chambelt~nusand seven damus) catzld stalld for the fol~rteenyears, while the quinceAeru represents the fifteenth yearlyerson. The stress is therefore on singubrity: she represents the odd nurrrber, individuality, that which stands orxt unmatched. 7, Fiestlgs de guinceAera which go 0x1 after this time are criticized by the CEBs-inclined clergy and their assistants in Poiancxl, becatrse they go beyond the aim of a farnily gathering. 8.1 refer to groups such as the Adoracici~lNocturna and the Vela del Sa~ltisirnowllicll promote an Image of the Virgin Mary that stresses endurance, encompassing iove and eternal forgiveness. "3 Padre Elodolfo has introduced a special moment into the Mass for the ""Geenth"" of girls celebrated in Santa Magdateaa. During this, the girfs have to hold each others%ands ancl recite a prayer: Lord, I give you thanks for these Gfieen years of my Iife that you have gratlted me . . . for my parents, my brothers . . . and fi,r the love with which they have edr~catedme . . . I love ancl admire this world, that is the work of your hands, the sun, the Rowers, the stars, the water the wind and what Is Etorxz and grcjws an this earth . . . I recogxtize that the society I join toda.?l;with enhanced canxiousness, has m a y negative aspects . . . r~everthelessthere are many good people ready to give me a hand to follotu the good path. 10. The girls are made to reaffirm, as in caxlfirmation, the baptislnal vow of the rejection of Satan. 11. Collier, discussing the changes in fanale sdf-cotlception in an Axldarlusian village, writes: "The status and reptitation of the gamily thus rests o n the degree to which its wcjmea are protected from penetration-by a wcjman" sense of sexual shame, by being locked away andlar by the corxrage af family men in repelling sedrxcers" "(1,986: 161). 12. The basic costs are those of the dress and shoes of the quitzct?Aertl; the food (~lormally birria-a meat disll-beans ancl tortillas), soft drinks ancl beer; the fee for the Mass, which varies from church to church; and the charge for the rental of music equipment, 13. ""Mi hija" is also used between adult wolrrell who are not blood relatives and can be used E7y husbands to their wives. AItfiorrgll an affectionate term, it evokes a status difference betsueen speaker and addressee. 14, A clasu chicu is a single fernale parent horrsehold formed by a man in an extra-marital relationship. The father of Ester lives in anc:,ther state of Mexicl:,, and rarely comes to see his six sorzs and daugllters.

References AIvaw, S, li 390. Womerl's participaticjn in Nrazilia~l"li)eople%Chrtrch": a critical appraisal. Fern. Sf ud 15,38 1-409,

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Erotic Anthropo "Ritualized Homosexuality" in Melanesia and Beyond

In this article I critique anthropological uses of the construct of ""rtualk~edhomrrsexuafity" in Melanesia and examine refated theoretical problems in the cross-cultural study of sexuatities, hornasextialities, and erotics. X argue that identifying as ""rltualizeci lzomosextzality" the semen practices through which btys are made into men in some Melanesian sttciedes engages and relies on Western ideas about sexuality that obscure the indigenous meanings of these practices. By comparing three Melanesian societies, X argue that age and gender hierarchies and a substance-based model fctr the cttnstitution of social identities tagether comprise a more useful ancl accurate framewrk for tznderstanding boys3nitiattrry practices in Melanesia, Exploring emerging Erarnewrks for understanding erotics cross-cuitrtrafly,, X seek to demonstrate the need for a more self-critical and self-aware stance as w l l as a more refined theoretical apparatus fctr the larger project of theorizing sexualities crossculturally, -Author% Abstract

G 1 L B E K . T HERLIT'SMONO(:KAPH O N T H E S A M H I AThe , Guardiutzs ofthe Flutes (1981), and his edited ccrllections, Ritt~alsof Manhood (Herdt, ed. 1982) and Ritualized Htl~asnasexualiin Melanesia (llerdt, ed. 1984, 1993), have effectively cl~artedthe terrain and terms of the study of ""rtualized homosexuality""far Melanesian societies, In practice Herdt" monograph and edited collections have also established a frarnewrk fctr the study of homosexuatities cross-culturalfy, that is, well beyond P-zpua New Guit~eaor Melanesia (see Davis and Whitten

Ar-nerirtznEfimulogist 22(4) (November 1995): N4&867

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198%Wt/2rcln 1993). Werdt" works have been used, h r =ample, to sustain and develop tile concepts of "i~nstitutionalizedlzomosexualtty" and age-structured homrrsexuality, playing a key evidentiary rate in bids trr legitimize particular typotogies for the study of hornosexualities cross-cult~rally.~ AAlthough, when first published, Herdt's work was groundbreakit~gand was significantly responsible for legitimizing anthropological in-trestigations of homosexualities, now, as I assert in this article, his writings on ""rtualized bomasexuality" require sustained critique. In liglzt of developments in lesbian ancl gay theory, feminist social theory, and questions of ethnographic representation, the assumptions and claims that organize the literature on ""rtualized homosexuatity""require critique both to counter the authority tlley lzave been given it1 determinit~gtlne cross-cultural project of understanding homosexualities and to revamp their suggestions for tznderstanding bc->ys?nitiationsin Melanesia. In search of mare accurate understandings of the indlgencrus meanings of the bay-man ""hmosexz~ralpractices" that occur under the guise of ""gowing" boys into men in certain Melanesian societies, I examine the parallels and ccrntinuities b e ~ e e nMrlanesian societies that do and do not use such practices to help install culturally specific ideals of masculinity in tlzeir boys,2 f contend that the ""homrrsexual practices" of brrys7nitiatory rituals ccrmprise one way of expressing and instantiatng a constellation of beliefs about gender and age hierarchies and the efficacy of substances for constttutit~gsocial. identities tlzat are found both in Melanesian societies that do and those that do not have ""homosexual" pactices. f suggest that the focus on ""kmsexuat" pactices in the ethnographic literature of a culture area definecl by refel-ence to tlzose practices, and especially when the practices are cast as ""rtuatized homrrsexuality,'hrrre indexes the aberrant status of homosexuality in Western societies rather than its centrality in the subject Mefanesian societies.+'50 identie the man-boy ""homosexuat" pyractices as "ritualized homosexuality3' imputes a Western model of sexuality to these Melanesian practices, one "eat relies on Western ideas about gender, erotics, and personhood, and that ultimately obsctlres the meanings that lzold for these practices in Melanesia, While it is not witl~inthe scope of this article to detail "Western sexuality,""my arguments are organized to reveal the assumptions Q r w n from Western sexuality that inform the discursive constitution and elaboration of "ritualized hirmosexuality" as an anthropirlogical genre and category. My aim, then, is to afiternpt to resituate the strrdy of ""rtualized hamosexuality" in Melanesia as well as to elucidate contemporary tlneoretical.conundrums in tlze study of:sexuality, erotics, and homrrsexualities cross-culturally.

Sexual Identities and Sexual Practices Anthrcryologists sttrdying homosexualities frequently make a distincdon bemeen sexual activities or practices on the one lzand and sexual identities on the otlner. fn her recent ethnography of lesbian and gay kinship in the United States, Wston has written that in the United States "at this historical moment, homosexuatity is

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organized in terms of idendty rather than acts" "(1991:65), The notion that ""gy,'" ""lsbian," or ""fmosexuaf" can be something one "is," as opposed to tendencies one has or behaviors in which one engages, is a recent historical development in Euro-American societies (see Foucarrtt 1990aj19781; Kalz 1990). The distinction between acts anci identities has, however, also become kndamental to the ways in which Western scholars investigate and theorize homosexualities cross-culturally. Many anthropoiogists writing abctut homosexuatitles cross-culturally have tended to delimit ""hmosexuality" to the level of sexual practices, to avoid weighting the concept with Western cultural specificities: if a sexual practice takes place b e ~ e e ntwo members of the same sex (defined in a Western biological paradigm), labeling the practices and sometimes the participants "homosextzal" has been acceptable anthropcrlogical practice (see Davis and M i t t e n 1987)." This distinction bemeen sexual practices and sexuaI identices is, however, a fundamentally troubling one. m i l e it appears to separate the ostensibly material from the ideologicaf aspects of sexuality, this materiallidealogicd division proves impossible to sustain: ideologicaf distinctions reappear in the implicit criteria of what will count as ""sxual"3eparating sexual practices from sexuat identides leaves unexamined the core problem of what will constitute ""sxfbr ""the sexual" in either category. References tcr ""sxuaf" pactices, however, as an tznprc3blematized domain, are rrcurrent throughout the lcey witings on ""rtualized hornosemality" (e.g., Wedt 1981, 1984b, 1987, 1993; Herdt, ed. 1984; Herdt anci Smller 1990). It is precisely the composition crf the category "the sexual" that X suggest is submerged and in need of fathoming in the writings on ""ritualized homosexuality:"" The Oxford Ertg22sh Dictz'onuryS definitions of sex invoke mafclfemale differences, reproduction, and intercourse motivated by malelfernale differences. The safient heterosexism of the definition makes its applicability to same-sexed bodies virtually incoherent. Euro-American folk definitions of:sex, however; anci certainly of sexual practices, tend not to be as rigid, generally allowing for non-reprodcrcticrn-focused sexual practices and occasionally atlctwing for same-sex "sex" (but see Frye 1990).The procreative aspects, hcrwexr, remain problematic. One could take the position that ""s? is an appropriate d e s c r i p t i ~term for "rituialized homosexuality""because the practices involve a kind of social reyroducticzn of masculinity, that is, of gencler: tlze symbolism of: death anci rebirtlz evident in many boysYnitiatory rituals lends itself to a label of reproduction at the symbolic level. But this is not how most antl-xropotogistshave deployed the term, Moreover, at the level of practice and discourse, what is being effected through tlze boys2nitiations, and what is of central concern to the participants, is growthbctth in the sense of physical growth and in the sense of teaching boys how to become culturally masculine. In order to avoid the sexuat practiceslsexual identity prc~bfemand also to keep attention focused on what I believe the participants view as centrat in boysYinitiations that include ""rtualizeci homosexuafity'Yn Melanesia, X use the term ""smen practices" "roughout this article to refer to practices involving the exchange of semen. Elere, because my focus is on those practices deemed ""homosexual" in

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the anthropological fiterature on Metanesia and because I primarily discuss semen practices between males in tlze subject Melanesian societies, the terrn semen practices will tzsually nclt be qtzalified by such terms as ""bsy-man" or ""malemafe," k m n practices clearly coufd, however, be used as a Be-eroticized label for any practices invofving semen, including "he&rosex~~aI"" excl~anges(such as those Knauft has termed ""ritualized heterosexuality" "919"33:5 l j ), and may prove useful in such contexts precisely because the term can hold in abepnce the erotic and sexual overtones so consistently overlaid by Western anthropologists on practices invc>lvingsemen. My goat in using the term is to beg the question of homoerotic versus heteroerotic motivaticzn altogether (since X argue that neither is a satisfactory analytic category for understancling semen practices) and thereby to leave open for consideration the meanings of practices inlrcrlving semen. At base, then, the terrn ""smen practices" is designed to minimize the assumptions that can be imputed to the semen-focused techniques and ordeals through which boys are ""made into men" h some Melanesian societies, primarily that they are of a piece with what Euro-Americans hold to be ""sexual.""" Sexual Geography and Briginrtry Hypotheses

The semen practices occurring in Melanesian societies generally take place between age-specihed categories of males during t>t~ys>nitiations,In his introduction to Rltziallzed Horrzosexualz'~in Melarzeszcl, Herdt C l984b) describes the geographicaf distribution of semen practices in Melanesia. He writes that atthough there are some cultural groups in tlze Eastern Higlzlands of h p u a New Guinea having-or kntwn to have had-semen practices, the geographical distribution of cultural groups affiliated with semen practices is concentrated in Southwest Pdpua New Guinea, extending into Southeast Irian Jaya. In the Eastern HighlancZs he identifies the Sambia, Baruya, Ieghuje, and other Highlands (Anga) groups and, south of them, one Lowlands Anga group as all having had semen pracdces. Moving south and westward, Herdt also identifies the Bcdamini, Etoro, Kaltlli, Onabasalu, and Gebusi as a cluster of societies that have semen practices. In the Trans-Fly area further west, Herdt writes that the Keraki, Suki, and Boadzi have had semen practices. Last, in Southeast Irian Jaya, Herdt writes that anthroyofogists have identified semen practices among the Kanurn, Yei-anim, Marind-anim, Kirnam, Jaqai, Casuarina Coastal peoples, and the Asmate7 Anthropc~lugistswriting abclut ""ritualized homosexuality," have proposed a variety of originary theories in trying to account for the presence of semen practices in specific areas. Lindenbaum, for example, correlates a purported higher incidence of male pseudahermapl~roditismwith societies having ritualized semen practices C 198"7:224), identi+ing a ""theme of cultural hermayhroditism" among these groups (X984:353). She writes that genieafly ambiguous persans are often dealt with by infanticide among Western Highlands gmups and argues that groups with ritualized semen practices are significantly more tolerant of yseudctherrnaphrctditism and gender ambiguity ( 1987:225; see also f 984:352--354). The

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implication of such tolerance is that more tolerant societies will have greater difficulty growing tlzeir boys into men tlzan less tolerant societies; the carrelatinn between tolerance of pseudohermaphroditism and ritualized semen practices thus pc"nts to the use of various forms of semen-ingestion to assist with this especially difficult growing. Such biological crxplanations of semen practices and "hom~sexuality"cr~ss-culturallyare common in the anthropological discourse explanaticzns, howver, do nczt attempt to further our on hornosexuatity."ucb t~nderstandingsof the culturally specific meanings of: semen practices anci may be mrrst interesting for what they reveal about Wstern models of biology and homosexuatity. Herdr proposes an ancient diff~~sianist theory ( 1984b) that Keesing ( 1982: 14-15) echoes (with social-structuraf intonations) to account for the presence and distribution of semen practices in Melanesia, Drawing on linguistic similarities Herdt suggests that there exist ""prehistoric connections b e ~ e e n(RH) [ritualized lzomosexctality] groups'" 1984b:Sf), and argues that ""rtualized lzomosextzality . . . [is] . . . an ancient ritual complex that diffused through a vast area of lodand and fringe-area Melanesia, perhaps 10,000 years ago or less" "(984b:48). He identifies ""various social structural ancl cultural underpinnings or cancomitants of (RH) [rituatized homosexuality] in different sociaf units and subregional traditions . . . [as] proximate transformationat causes" "wing the variety of ritualized semen practices forms currently found in Pdpua New Guinea ( 1984b:S4, emphasis in original). The evidence to which Werdt points is unconvincing, First, the linguistic sttuatian in Vayua New Guinea is extremely complex; given tlzat the region lzas more than 700 separate languages, many of which have sl~iftedthrough time, Any attempts to demonstrate f 0,000-year-old linguistic connections between specific social gmups are therefore open to multiple interpretations and challenges. Second, Herdt argues for ancient common links b e ~ e e nMefanesian societies with ritualized semen practices on the basis of "various social structrrraf and cultural t~nderpinnings'" 1984b:54).These social structural and cultural commonalities, howevery can be shown equally to underpin, for example, purging trr ingestive practices among bczys and men-if, however*attention is directed away from the pradices themselves and toward tlze symbolic work effected by a variety of ritrtalized practices. Ultimately it is likely that originary and biczlogicaf hypotheses such as these are responsive to a specificaffy Erxrcr-American discomfort with what at first glance appear to be ""fmosexual practices.'3n such a cantext, lzolding that ""ritualized homosexuafity" k an ancient cultural form is more of a legitimizing tactic than a poent explanaary device.Io The apparent need among anthroycrlogists writing on the subject of "ritualized homrrsexuafity" "to account for the presence crf semen practices-be it historically or contemporariiy-has implicitfy?if no"rxpticitty? assumed that such practices are aberrant and tlzus in need of explanation, This pronounced anthropological p u ~ l i n gover the presence of semen practices is, in part, probably a product of the psychodynamic framework adopted by many of its theorizers." Among the

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Uema, for example, Van Baal finds both castration anxiety and anal fixafirons (1984: 146, 152). Michael Atlen reiterates and supports La)lardk Oedipai complex for the Big Nambas, which posits "eat a man" desire to sleep with his sister cannot be klfilled so he sleeps, instead, with his sister" husbanci ( 1 984~90-91). In his analysis of Orokaiva male cauyfes Eric Schwirnmer identifies a "dose-binding intimate (CBI) mother syndrome" (1984:255) among them and suggests that the closeness between Orokaiva mothers and sons leads "one [to] expect mothers . . . to impart a negative and repressive view of heterc3sexuaiixt.y to their sons" (1984:270). Herdt has written that male transsexualism is a ""basic male gender from a boy's Failure to transfer his identification from his disorder" ~sesulrit~g mother to male role models (lf)82:82-83). Finally, at the core of Herdt's argument in support of sorting societies by "I~omosexuality"iies his privileging of "the yt~tzth'sfantasy, his erotic desires that create an erection before the pleasurable sex whose ktishized focus is feffatio with a boy" "981:3 t4). By taking an untheorized ""eotics" a the ground on which semen practices occur, and by identi+ing semen practices as erotic through tlze invocation of Freudian psychology, Herdt t~ttixslatelyplaces the Sambia (on the basis of their "institutiona1irz;edfellatic) practicesn")n a categcrry incomparable with-because radically different from-such societies as the Gahuku-Gama, for exampie. Arguing from these semen erotics, Her& writes that ""Smbia ritual development belongs to its own 98 t :318). place and time" (l Framing ritualized semen practices as ""fmosexual" and puzzling over what may most accurately be described as the ""etiology" of these ostensibXy "homosextzal" pactices constitutes a theoretical move that not only ex(>ticizesthe Melanesian societies so grotzped, but also further exc~ticizeshcrmr>sexualities.In this article I seek to demonstrate thafiit~~atized semen practices comprise one practice among a range of substance-hcused practices that are better understood h e n a n a l y ~ din terms of:an idealogically and symbofi~allybased regional pattern, not in terms of:a regional camplex f-c~czlsedsolely on semen practices*

Homosexualiv and Iljtltalized Homosemdity Herdt uses the term hornusexl4atz'tythmughout his writings on tlze Sambia and, as he does so, admonishes readers that in Melanesia ""males w h t ~engage in ritual homosexuat activities are not %homr>sexualsm"" (1984a:x). He goes to great lengths in his published materials on ""rirualized homosexuality" to ' h a k e it explicitly clear that 1 am not asserting for even hinting)" that the Sambta or other Melanesian peoples who engage in ritualized lzomosexuality are "homosexuals" "(984b:8; see also 198f : 3 4 ; 1984a:x; 1984b:65,82-83). At one point he qualifies this claim in a footnote explaining that although 95 percent of Sambia (men) experience fellatio as institutionalized and transitional, "there are a very small number of deviants [sic)" "(1981:4). Herdt elaborates on the import of using the term ""rhlalalized homosexuality" as distinct frc)m "hrmosexuality":

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XituuEizd as a modifier [to I~arnosexuality)aizpiies best to the Mefanesia~lsitrxation

because: (1) homosexual practices are implemented usually through male initiation rites, having (2) religiorxs tlvertones, as well as being ( 3 ) cortstrained by broader cuftuxal rules and social roles, for whicl~the fix11 moral and jural force of a society; or a secret men" society, rxot only condortes but often prescribes sexual intercotrrse among certai~lcategories of males; and (4) various age-related and kinship taboos define and restrict the rxatrxre of this maie/male sexual hehavior. [ 1"384b:6] Elsewhere he has written: In spite of ulliversal [sic1 involvelxent in homosexual [sic] activities, however, no data indicate that tl-tese [Mefanesian] mates become habitually mcltivated to samesex corltact h e r in Iife, or that the incider~ceof aberrant [ s k ] lifelong homosexuality, as an identity state, is greater i11(RH) [ritualized hoinosexttality] groups than elsewhere in the world, [ 1984b:65]

The preceding quotations embed understandings of homrrsexuatity that merit detailed mapping because they illuminate some of the ways in which a Western mode2 of sexuality has informed and undergirded the descriptive anaiysis of ""rtualized homosexuality""in Melanesia. In Herdt's writings, ""hmosexuality,"" is defined as "mm-sex contact" "(984b:65); ""sam-sex contact" is isonly further sgecified in terms of physical acts-kfIatio and anal intercourse, for example-acts whose meanings are presumeci to be self-evidently ""sext~al"anci "homosexual." In the foregoing quotations, ""Ermosexuafity" is also marked by the foilwing characteristics: ( f ) itis a lifelong practice; ( 2 ) it is an "identity state"; (3)this precise configuration of Izomosexuality is "world"-wide. Each of these assertions, I suggest, is problematic. First, the notion of ""lifelong homosexuality" ~ f i e c t neis ther Euro-American homasexualities nor non-Western homasexualities, Even in Western societies, the basis for Herdt's comparatke model, there is considerable evidence that homosexuatity is not a lifelong practice: individuals identified as homosexuat ""crorne out" at different times in their iives, frequently after heterosexual relationships; they may ""rturn" to heterosexual relationships yeriociically; and they come out to varying degrees-with many having both homosexual and heterctsexuat reiaticznships f Wston 1991; see atso Greenberg f 988). Cross-culturally the evidence is even more pronounced that engagement in lzomosexual practices does not excfude heterosexual practices and does not ccrnstitute ""lifeong"' commitments (see Blachood, ed, 1986)Perhaps more important, the notion of a lifelong commitment to a sexual orientation and the concey t of an "iddetity state" are both clearly contingent on cult u r a l ! ~specific ideas about personhood-not surprisingly, Western ones. In Melanesia, however; yersonhoad is, arguably, Far more flexibly constructed than in Western societies, The Wstern "iddetity" construct requires radical quafificatlon for Metanesian societies, as dursble for a time period much shorter than a lifetime, and as meaningful in relation to the excl~angeof substances, not in relation to an essentialized and internally consistent, individuated core persona, The legacy of Western iinteliectrral thought, including Western philosophy, is also at is-

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sue here: the Western identity construct may require an internalized gaze that is itself contingent on an exteriorized or alienatecl world. Such an identity construct, although coherent in a society where dualisms such as interiorlexterior and mindlbody are basic organizing themes, males little or nct sense in Melanesian societies. Finally, that this particular construction of homosexuality should be wc>rldwide is most clearly contingent on a bioXogcally reductionist view of hornosexuaiities that ref~~ses to encompass the variety of cultural specifics that structure sexual behaviors cross-culturafly Lesbians and gay men in the W s t draw on biological explanations as a culturaly authorir~dand politically potent justif cation fir homosexuality, one that can be unclerstood as authenticating a ""rght" ta toe lesbian or gay in a cultural context that treats such behaviors as aberrant and thus in clear need crf some externally authcrrized justification.13 Anthropologists, however, should not take such claims and folk models of homctsexuafity as anything other than EuroAmerican folk exegeses on the meanings of Izomosexuafity, exegeses that speak to, and through, Wstern cultural ccrntexts and political dparnics, T i the extent that Euro-American ideas abctut sexuality, and, hence, the meanings attached to homosexuality, are culturally specific to the West, the concept of ""rituatked homosexuality" is intrinsically trcrtzbled by Euro-American cultural specificities, These culturaf specificities can easily becttme distorting when Western ideas about lzomosexuality are deployed to non-Western societies like those of Melanesia.

The Sambia: "Rtualized HamosexuaXi~"Template Among the Sambta f a cultural group pseudonym) boys3nitiaticzns are organized at the phratry or ""cnfederacy'Yevel every 4 to C; years (Herdt 1981:54), anci last from 10 to 15 years between the first initiation status and marriage (1981:174), Sambta bclys3nitiation consists of six initiaticzn statuses, and a strong emphasis on age-mate solidarities creates bonds among boys of the same initiation status at the phratry level as ""regional cohorts" "erdt 1984c:172), f-ferdt writes that Sambta believe girls mature and become Mromen ""naturalXy"(that is, with limited cultrtral assistance) whereas boys do not, in part because being raised by women 171-172). The point of the initiations, according to ""Erld[s] them back"" ( 1984~: Werdt, is to make men out of boys by separating thern from ail wczmen, especially tlzeir mothers, by giving boys oral inseminations of-semen (men's ""srength"") as well as magical ritual treatments, and by instilling in them men's ccrrporate values and interests, which are constructed largely in opposition to wczmenk interests, The masculinist ideal inculcated in initiations is "~rengthPformerly articulated through a mrriorhoc->d ideal of ""toughness on arduotzs, danger-filled guerrilla raids to distant enemy lands," but which now "is virtually synonymous wit11 tdealized conformity to ritual routine" [Herdt 1981:S 1). The central symbol of Sambia boysYinidation is the barnboo flutes that, in Werdt" analysis, stand as multivocal symbctls whose meanings reverberate with

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masculinist power and men" cmporate interests, Werdt describes the fltrtes as a political weapon of boysbnd women's oppression; the secret of tlze Rutes revealed to initiates concerns the origins and divergences of masculinity. and femininity; and the flute teachings prescribe man-bc~ysemen practices, Through these teacl~ingsabout semen practices, the flutes embody ""aantasy system concerning the flutes and their sounds" mch that the flutes signiq both "erotic arousal" and its repression (Herdt 1982:50), The flutes are used as penis substitutes to teach tlze initiates how to fellate the ofder bacl~efors,teachings that Herclt claims lziglzlight "erotic ccrmpcrnents" of genital stimtzlation and that fetishize the penis and mouth as erotic ( 1982:6(1-68,78), X t is drtring tlze first ancl seconcl stages of initiation tlzat boys are supposed to feffate older bachelors (third-stage and older initiates) in order to get the semen they need to grow into men (Herdt 1984~: 173). Herdt writes that the bttys "agage in these practices on a daiiy basis, first as fellator, and then as fejtated" fix a period of 1 0 to 15 years ( l98 1:2). The motivation to fellate stems manifestly from the teaching that the bachelors have what the boys need: biological masculinity in the form of semen ( X982:61-63). Vet most boys Herdt interviewed also recctunted experiencing both revulsion and significant fear when first told that in order to become men they needed to fellate older boys 1982:70-71). Not all boys submit to the ""threats and seductive pleading" of elder men when they present the initiatory secret to the boys, but Herdt does not explore what happens to tlze boys who consistently ref~zse( 1982:66,76), Werdt's claim that semen practices are fzrndamentafly erotic is perhaps his central and most important contribution to analyses of semen practices and camprises the groundwork for his claims that the practices are ""sexual" and tzltimately meaningful as ""P.tualizedkomosexuaXity." Under the rubric of a seemingly transcuftural ""eottcs:" Herdt focuses on the fantasy lives of p u t l ~ engaging s in semen practices and invokes the Freudian concept of the fetish to analya the experience of fellatio for Sambia youth, The presence of eroticism in semen practices is, however, at best lzighly variable ancl certainly not automatic, Hage, for example, has argued that ""libidinal satisEaction [is] irrefevant" tto semen practices because these practices are based on and heavily invested ideologically in an andogy to-not envy of-women's procreative abilities ( 1981:272-273). Yet Herdt makes the claim that ""sexual acts, ritualized. or not, always entail erotic amrzsal, at least for the inserter" "(1984b:v. He thus uses the term "arousaf" instead of the more accurate ""eection" to shift attention awdy from physical causes and into the grayer area of erotics." Herdt posits a tautofogous ordering of eroticism that makes penile erection contingent on a kind of arousaf that is by definition erotic, as opposed to rendering erection the result of arousal that can be caused by a variety of factors, from physical manipulation tcr emotional desire to physical exertion ta intellectual fantasy*Rape, for example, usually involves penile erection, but it would be difficult to show that the impetus for the arousal is funclamentally or necessarily erotic. INhile this article is not committed to the claim that semen practices must be utterly nonsexuat and nonerotic, it is committed to illurninat-

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ing and questioning the assumptions that have made semen practices appear fundamentally and t~nquestioningfysexual ancl erotic. Toward that encl my goal here is to install some critical distance b e ~ e e nHerdtk analysis and the assumptions embedded within it.15

Violmm and Fear in Boys3fnitiations While Herdt goes to great lengths to instill in readers the belief that the feflatorlfellated relationship is erotic, he dczes little to anatyze the import of the potentiaf for viafence embedded in that relationship, The extent to which violence ancl fear operate at the experiential level of:initiates undergoing boys' it-titiation in societies with boy-man semen practices is striking: The bachelors get soundly thrashed and rxose-bled, and they otherwise suffer much. This is how it should be, the ~Ldessassert, for the yc?uths must become "tronghnd bangry%ecause of~vhathas been done to them. But they can 'pay back" that anger by doislg to punger initiates what was done to them: beatir~gand otherwise traurnatizing tilexn, Xrr addition, they can do suxnething ec1uailiIy laden with power: they are urged to channel that anger and retax their tight peslises, by serving as dosninant feliateds, [Merdt 1981:56]

This passage is a rare instance in which the potentiaf Ebr violence is made visible, where Herdt identifies ""anger" as a key mrztivator for the fellated bachelor. The coercive nature of oraf insemination when it is first introduced to the initiates, the way in whiclz fetlatorlfe'glatedretationships are strt~aureclas submissiveldominant and never reversible relationships, and the intimation that bachelors ""pay back"" their own suffering by venting their anger on the bodies of younger initiates aft introduce a central motf af age-graded hierarchy consolidated througl-t violence ancl fear, Complicity with the violence of initiatory rites effectively serves as credit against the time when the bctys become young rnen and can themselves subject a new group of initiates to such violence. Such violence and fear, lzowevcr, are not exclusive to Melanesian societies with semen practices, btzt alscz characterize Melanesia, societies suclz as the Gahuku-Gama, which utilize purging practicres to inscribe substantially similar ideologies thraugl-tboys' initiations. In The High Valley (1965) Kenneth Read recounts a pivt~talceremony in the Gahuku-Gama boys>nitiadon, when he folXowed a crowd a5several hundred, including the initiates and older men, to a local river. There he saw a dozen or so of the older rnen masturbating into the stream. Following the ccrllective masturbation, the initiates watched and were then forced to ernufate nosebleeding, using "two cigar-shapecl objects fashioned from tlze razor-slzarp leaves of:green pit-pit" that produced, by had's account, a profuse amount of blood (1965:165). After the nosebteeding, initiates watched and were then forced trz emulate an older man who pushed a U-shaped and lengtlzy piece of:cane down his own tlzroat and then down theirs and into their stomachs, sawing it back and forth before withdrawing it to induce vomiting (1 965:168-169). Thrctughout their ordeafs each

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initiate had his upper arms tightly held by two ofder men-whether to restrain tlze p u t h s from leaving, to support them, or both, was unclear ( 1965:163). Read describes panic and fear on the initiates7aces before their nosebleedings, and writes that by the time the boys underwnt the cane swallowing ""rey were aXready too ehatrsted, too shocked ancl weak to resist'' (1965: 169). With the violence of the initiatory puriffcation rites as a backdrop, Read details how the older bachelors are scrutinized and criticized by their elders, ErequentXy about marriage, and lzow tlze bachelors are expected to turn arouncl and vent their animosities against ycjtznger boys, ""returning in kind the carping appraisals to which they had recently listened" 0965:I 87). Both the Sarnbia and GahukuGarna initiations, then, are traumatic lessons in social lzierarchy for the initiates (Read f 952,1965,1984)- For both, ritual teachings about men" sand wrmen" differences inculcate among men a generalized suspicion and fear of women while simuftaneotrsly exalting men" abilities and supremacy; together these teachings instantiate a gender hierarchy (Herdt 1981; Read 1952, 1982). Sir-nultaneously, the abuse and fear inculcated in both the Sambia and Gahuku-Gama initiates thrctugh beatings and hazings and, h r the Sarnbia, adoption of the passive rote in fellatio for the initiates, provide clear lessons in the age-graded lzierarchy operative amrrng men for the duration of bc>ysYnitiation,

Gender and Age Hierarchies In her recent feminist philosc->yhicalworks on gender and identity, Butler (1990, 1993) has argued that theorists should not be concerned with origins or with determining essentialized or "authentic'kcategories of identity. To fake her suggestion seriously shifts attention from the ""reality" of men and w m e n as categories of actors in Pagua New Guilzea to the ways the categories of gender are produced tlzrough ancl enmeshed in tlze operations of power. X take boysYnitiations as cantexts in and throtzgh which gender categories are constructed. Boys3nitiations are certainly nctt the onXy contexts in which gender is explicitly a"essue, but the ideologies and dismurses that partially constitute these initiatory contexts (e.g., ritual teachings) provide an illuminating indigenous exegesis on gender ideology that anthropologists can usefufly analyze. LocaXly, bctys3inttiations comprise cttndensed cantexts for tlze creation, maintenance, and deployment of power in the form of sc->cialhierarchies. Among the Sambta, Herdt describes the Atrte ideology and symbotism as hostile to women (1982:88). The ritual teachings of boys2intiation inscribe the supremacy of masculinity over femininity, defining men as superior to women in ""pysique, personality, and social position" (lC82:53f, Women are cast as sexually licentious and irresponsible, poisecl to siphon off men's strmgth. Herdt writes: Women are pictrrred as relentlessly dangerorxs to masculine 11ealtl-r.Their bodies . . . are polluting; so ail heterosext~alcontact, even touching, is deemed harmfill, . . . For all males, this danger is always present; but for youtlls, who lack defensive ritual

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knowledge of sexual ptrrification procedures, sucaxmhing to a wannar~"cl~arms wotzld be fatal, since unlike xnen they do not understand how to cleaxise themselves afiervuards of a warnan's contamination, ( 1981:1 741 The parallels between the teacl~ingsabout gender lzierarcby explicit in boys? initiations, and the age hierarchy that structures the initiatory practices suggest a brctader culturat, theme of hierarchy underIying Sarnbia boys5tnitiatians. At least one anthropologist has argued that afrlzouglz semen practices cement cufturaliy appropri&e masculine gender identity, their broader function is as ""a mechanism of control that operates to perpetuate a system of inequality based on sex and age'" Creed 1984: 165). Arguing that ""hmosexuali~[sic] affirms masculine supremacy in the face of female [reproductive] ycrwer," thereby ideologically reproducing men's superiority over w m e n , Creed calis for in~stigating"the possibility that it operates in tile parallel contradiction between the ideat of adult supremacy and the reality of youthful vitality'" 1984:166). The linchpin of Creed's analysis is that as boys learn the initiattrry secrets of manhood they are also forced to accept, embedded in the ldeotogy of manhood, the terms of elder men's new form of:contml over them: boys-epencience on adult men for semen. Thus the ideology perpetuates their subordination in an age-graded hierarchy, rendering each age-grade subordinate to all age-grades above it. Complex constructions of: gender enter into tlze fellatorlfellartrd relationships among the Sambia: the boys are ycrsitioned as feminized and wifefike in their roles as feilators even while such feminizatian is deemed necessary for their eventual growtlz into men (Herdt 1982:70), In tlze context of: boys' initiations, a hierarchical gender ideolofcrrmodels and underpins the age hierarchy instantiated between boys and bachelors of different age grades, as wet1 as b e ~ e e ntheir male elders. Xt situates tlze bays in a structurally inferior and subordinate status relative ttr oMer men, while still holding that in the larger social context all males, as a category, are hierarchically superior to all fernates. One could even argue that the experience of: initiation serves to solidify the gender hierarchy by subjecting bays ttr the traumas of initiation white ultimately enabling them to pass through initiatory age grades and, eventuaIXy, to bemrne elder high-status llolders, That is, tlze experience of initiation authenticates tlze rightness of: tlze hierarchical. model by requiring the boys to intrest in the significance of the age-graded hierarchy from wllich they will eventually emerge as high-status Sambia men. The ritual teacl-tings and practices of boys?initiations can t~sefttllybe anaty~edfor their deplcjyment of gender as a conceptual scheme fbr thinkng about relatir~nsof differen~and, thus, as a model of and justification for the age hierarchy among boys and bachelors of various age grades, and the gender lzierarchy, Gender is useci in many Mefanesian societies a a ccrnceyttzal schema, an archetypal metaphor for thinkix~gabout relations of difference more generafly f see Lederman f 990; Strathern 1987, 1988).An impressive amount of culttlral work is illvested in announcing and maintaining the boundaries b e ~ e e n""men" and ""women" as individuated indigenous categories of actors. It would, howver, be a mistake to construe these

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conceptual boundaries in Melanesia as similar to the Western bcjundaries b e ~ e e n gender categories. First, in most Melanesian societies kinship is an organizing social motif that results in binary gender categories%eing crosscut by knship designations: different kinship roles designate significantly different patterns of interaction, obligations, ancl topleies between "men" and ""women.'"?Vonzen," for example, should be understood as social actors with different patterns of interaction and obligations in their capacities as sisters, daughters, mothers, andlor wives. Second, Western gmder ideology fortifies gender distinctions with a biological paradigm, one that is bolstered by the prestige of science, informed by a Wstern fblk msrdel of the concreteness of biolagical differences, and constructed to render the boundary between "the sexes" absofute.1~"n Melanesia, lzowever, the boundary between "wcrmen'hand ""men" is much mon: permeable. Social identit-y-including gender and knship designations-is frequently constructed through exchange and, more relevant to my purpoxs here, through the exchange of substances: body Atrids and foods, as well as "exchange items" m c l ~as ktafa slzeils (in the Massim) and pigs (in the Highlands)." Meanings and Exchanges of Substances

Galzuku-Garna boys' initiation is organized around men's bbelief in the need "to rid their bodies of the contaminating influences of women" (Read 1965: 166). Alths~rzghthe initiates are first taught the purification rites during their initiations, they are told that grcwn men practice the rites regularly and that they too need to pradice tlze rites regularly-both as boys in order to grow into men and, once men, to rehabititate their masculinity from women" 'Ydeititating" hinnuence (Read 1965:166). Werdt slrnilarfy writes about the dangers wcjmen pose to Sambia masculine health, elaborating on Sambia men's ""cSfensive ritual knowledge of sexual purification procedures'" 1981:174). The purification procedures taught to men before they marry include: Nose-bleeding, after each of their wives2monthly periods. . . . Restricting the freq u e n q of sex itself. . . . Before the act [of heterosexual intercourse], xnen can aim ingest specid leaves to strengthe~lthe stomach and skin. They can masticate special substances. . . to cfeanse the mouth. They can (illicitly) place spearmint ieaves in the rxose to prevent inl~aiationof worrmeds ""vagiraal sxnelt." A~xdd~rriragactual intercorrrse they can keep bark or a red seed in their mouths (again, illicitly, as a rexninder to themselves not to swallo~vtheir [r.vives" saliva). [Herdt 1981:248 1 Xn their acts of nosebtceding and ingesting leaves Sambia men are deploying substances for symbolic purification and as syl~bolicanticontaminants, respectively; mere ccrntact with a w m a n " sskin or body is designated as contaminating, hence the agention to strengthening the man's sskin. Mention of inhaling ""vaginal smell" and avoiding women's saliva both clearly allude ta substances tlzat men interpret as polluting. In addition the Sarnbia have what Herdt identifies as "hsertive rites," "ategory of rituals that build up mascufinitlt; again through sub-

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stances: saliva, skin Aakes, body hair, sweat, snot, and urine are all deposited on or attached to, in specific order, certain trees or plants in conjunction with rites thought both to stimulate masculine development and tc> purify the masculine bctdy "tilereby preserving it against contamination" "erdt 1981:240), The ideologies of both the Sarnbia anci Gahuku-Gama that are transmitteci thrarzgh male initiation practices fbcus on the differences and proper refations bet-~veenmen and wcrmen and explain the basis of masculinist power and supremacy over women (Herdt 1981, 1984~;Read 1952, 1982). The cosrnofogicai aspect of this knodedge consists not only in the teachings about gender but also in the ways such lcnowledge is constructed to explain and describe men" s e a n ingful social world. For tlze Sambia this world consists of the constellation of beliefs about semen as the embodiment of all that is vital in Sambia society. In Herdt's acccrunts, Sambia men view semen as the lifeblood of their society: a substance that creates and nurtures children (by carrsing breastmilk to flow), turns boys into men and young girls into wives, anci transmits masculine spirit Familiars (Herdt 1984~).Men alone claim to have the power tc>regenerate Sambia society through drinking the sap of patrillneatly owned trees, which they believe restores their depleted semen reserves and masculine vitality (Herdt 1981, 1984~). Thus is semen constructed by Sambia men as the fount of Sambia life. Men" cantrof over this fount places them in symbolic control of the cosmological power to regenerate their society over time and tlze power to shape it in the present, Understanding the instantiation of masculine gender ideologies in these Metanesian societies is, I suggest, more accurately effected by utilizing the notion of fluid or Rexlbte conceptual categories as it is being developed by some Melanesianists. In the cited description of the Gahuleu-Cama, for example, men" cane swallowing and nosebleeding are indigenctusly cast as a means by which femate substances are expurgated from the bodies of sociat acmrs trying to be purely culturally masculine. Meigs has suggested that tracing the meanings and paths of subseances (body Auids such as blood, semen, vaginal fluids, and breastmilk, as welt as foods) reveals the ways in which categories suc11 as masculinity anci femininity are ccrnstructed in numerotzs Melanesian societies as permeable and subject tc>change through contact with other substances (Meigs 1976, f 9'78, 1984, n.d,). Such categ o r k " ~ q e n d e r ,then, are deyicteci as having Par more flexible boundaries in Melanesian than in Wstern societies, with important implications for ideas abotzt personhood: if substances are a key element in the formation and maintenance of social identities or sociat categories, then tlze focus on semen as constitutke of masculinity or masculine gender identity bea~mespart of a broader Melanesian cultural theme-the efficacy of subseances for constituting perstjns. Gender Trouble m d the Performative Mrork of Substances

In the Sambia flute teachings a symbolic parallel is drawn between the flutes as penises and mothers%reasts, both of which produce grcwth-inducing substances and both of which are (at different times in the life cycle) cast as nurturant and

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essential to male grcrwth fHerdt 1982:62-63,791. The Rutes are always played in pairs, one of which is designated female and tlze other male (Herdt 1982:58). The spirit said to animate the flutes and bring them to life is a female spirit, which Werdt argues is a symbolic mother substitute f 1982:"78f: it is the bachelors who are ultimately fellated w11a play the Rt~tes,and thus it is symbolically as the femalelmother deity that they give ""milk" "nother term denoting semen) to younger initiates (1 982:%-79). Sambia symbotism about mother" milk attests to tlze salience of substances: breastmilk is a key substance of: nurturance on whiclz semen is metaphrrricalfy predicated both as materially similar to mother" milk and as functionally nurturant like mother" milk. This subtext on nurturance, playing as it does on a comyfex relationship bet w e n semen and breastmilk as parallel ntzrturing substances, articulates with broader Mefanesian themes about the efficacy of substances in constituting social identities. More specifically, it reflects a widespread complex of ideas about the relationship between semen and breastmilk. Postparturn taboos on sexual intercourse between breastfeeding w m e n and their male sexual partners are widespread in Melanesia. They are informed by a cluster of ideas asserting, first, that tlzere is a physiological connection betwen tlze uterus and breasts that allows semen to enter a lactating w m a n " breastmilk through her tzterus and, second, that breastmilk will be contaminated by semen and thereby make the suckling infant sick (Counts 1985:167). This complex of ideas on the dangers of semen to breastmilk and hence to children is ccrunterpointed by the parallels drawn in many societies between the nurturing qualities of botl-r substances, The Kafiai, for example, have a linguistic category (aisuru) that designates ""those liquid substances which have the capacity to create social ties: semen or male substance, breastmilk ( ~ Z ~ T U ~ U~ TZ 'ZS AU ~ U ) , and the Ruid of the green coconut (nil4 aisuru)" (Counts 1985:159). Among the Kaliai, the relationship between a mother's brother anci lzis sister" children is constructed throrzgh the sharing crf substance: the mc~ther's brcrther gives his sister" children coconuts frcm gafrns the children wit1 eventually inherit from lzitn anci from which the substance niu aistlru (the Ruid of green coccrnuts) is drawn (Counts 19REi:f 60). The Hua, another Highlands group, have a similar comy-texof ideas about substances, in which semen and breastmilk are constructed as partible ancl constitutive of social identities (Meigs 1984). Amrrng the Sambia there is ample evidence for a substance-based notion of gender difference. The ritual teachings in the bc,ysYnitiations represent breastmilk as semen transformed witl~inthe mother's body; this renders semen the uftiznate oar originary substance of nurturance, Mbbether semen is the archsubstance or is the more Iixxlited substance of choice for the masculinist sociaZ ideology merits further investigation. Can a substance other than semen (e.g., breastmik or blood) inhrm a substance-based feminine gender ideology or, as Herdt (1984~)claims, is semen the overarching substance that constitutes both feminine and masculine identides and social relationships? Herdt encountered lively disagreement among Sambia women, Ebr example, over whether-as Sambia men dammed-women needed semen in order to make breastmilk; the women claimed they created breastmilk on

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their otwn (E-ferdt 1984~).Among the Gahuku-Gama a simiiar theme of the power of substances to constrtlct social identities is evidenced by the masculine put-ification rites in which rnen engage in response to close ccrntact with women. f turn next to examine the KaiuXi, among whom food is a crucial substance for constituting sociaf identities and relationslzips, and among whom semen practices were used in the past to help grrow boys intcr men.

SubseizntcesAmong the liraXuli According to Edward Schieffelin, the Kaiuli did not have boysXnitiation (1982: 196197); the bazr u, howevex;he describes as a '"ritual of manhood'5xn whicl~ the Kaluli engaged until the early 19'70s. The hau a was characterized by an extended period of seclusion (abotzt 15 months) for adolescent boys and yojtzng rnen (aged 9-28) and bm,se;don the q u i n t s s e n a masculine activity of hunting. Two basic anci interrelated themes undeqirdeci the buu a: hunting for purposes of initiating, meeting, or expanding exchange relationships, and masculine gender identity, Bambi Sshieffelink recent anafysis of Kaluli social Iife highlights food as the highly symbolized medi~lmthat constructs and mediates Kaluli social relationslzips and that perpetuates social relations b e ~ e e nccrresidents in the villages as well as b e ~ e e naffines (1 990:4-5). Edward Schieffetin atso highlights saciat giving and claily exchange as hndamen~afin Kaluli social life ( 1976:26;). In the buu a, lzunting was undertaken with the goal of amassing enough meat to htfill each participant's soda1 exchange relationships: by giving away appropriate amounts of ma& (a category of meat prestation), a young man-proved his ability to fake part in ongoii~g food exchanges, a key critericrn for adult status for men (1882:175). The btlu u also instandated mascufinity Edward Schieffelin writes that the haza u ""expressed what men liked best about themselves, what tl~eystood far and wanted to be" "982:166). In additictn to learning and practicing the masculine activity of hunting, masculinity was instantiated both within the cctntetxt of the bazr u and temporally ancl ritually outside it thmugln anal intercourse. This semen practice was explained in terms of boysheed for a ""bost" in inorder to become rnen (Schief-telin f 976:124). Semen is cttnceptuatized by Kaluli as having a ""magical quality that promotes plzysical growth and mental ~~nderstandi~ng" (1976: 124). It is occasionally mixed with salt and ginger and orally ingested by young Kaluli in need of heightened mental understanding f X976:X24f, especlatty (U. Scl~ieffelin,personal communication, to assist in learning a foreign lang~~age Ianuary 1992). Yet among the Kaluli this semen practice was not ritualized. Ternporally outside the bard a, when a bcty reached the age of I0 or 11 he or his father would choose an inseminatar for tlze boy. Edwdrci Schieffelin writes that "the two wotzld meet yri~l-ttelyin the fin~restor a garden house for intercourse over a period 982: 162). Temporalfy within the bau a, semen practices of months or years" (l took place between ofder bachelors anci younger boys, with tlze paired or even triadic refationships designated either formally by the hau a feader or informally by the participants themselves ( 1982:177'). Even at the formal designations, bctth the

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inseminators and the inseminated were self-selected, and Schieffetin notes that not all bau a participants involved themselves in the semen practices ( 1982: 178). The Kaluli masculine gender ideology that exalts hunting as a quintessentially masculine activity was connected to the mythologlcallp empowered ncttictn that virgins made better h ~ ~ n t ebr es c a ~ ~ sanimals e do not appear to men who have "too mtzch to do with women" "chiefklin 1982:178). Virginity was therefore a requirement for all participants for the duration of the btlu a, In such a scheme, if anal intercourse is viewed as a. ""sexual" practice it occupies a. timinal position between this sacred virginity and the profane retations with women prohibited t~ bau u participants: semen practices were both prohne and allowed in the bard a, with the older baclzelors who were inseminators being required to sleep in the children" rather than the older bachelors\end of the hunting lodge 1982: 177). If not viewed as ""sexual" but as a substance-based practice, the use of semen practices bctth within and outside the bard u context can be interpreted as one cttmyonent in an intensive symbolic conversation abomt masculinity that revolves around the exchange of substances: food or meat prestations and their initiation of exchange relationships enable boys to grcw into socially recognixecl men; similarly, semen practices help to ""gow'%oys into socially recognized men by giving them the socially realgnized substance they require to achieve manhood. The Kaluli data reveal another Melanesian society in which substances are highly symbolized in the processes of negotiating and constitutng social identities: masculinity is performed thrarzgh hunting that, by enabling exchange relationships, demonstrates a yorxth"s eligibility for adult masculine status. The Kaluli data also demonstrate tl-tat semen practices as a cult~~ral form need not be connected to a masculine supremacizing ideology or to a secret men" ccuft. The ritual teachings of the bau m, unlike the Gatl-rulcu-Gama and Sambia bctysyintiatrtry teacl-tings, are not predicated on or organizeci around an ideology of masculine superiority: they dcr not cast women as hostile or threatening to men" carporate interests, Rathex; the bard u inculcates masculinity through the practice of hunting, tlzat is, through the successft~fdemonstration of: a youth's ability to join ongoing food exchanges and thereby provide food not only for his kin but ultimately fbr his future spouse and her relatives. Finally, the Kaluli semen practices are clearfy based on a. belief in the efficacy of semen as a substance capable of conveying masculinity; Kalufi statements about the meanings of semen therefc~re again challenge the claim that semen practices are either intrinsicaIIy erotic or primarily meaningful in terms of:sexuality.

Erotics m d Gender Reconsidered The cctre of this critique of the category ""rtuafized homosexuality" is that the term exports a Western model of sexuatity to non-Western societies. This is revealed most clearfy in Herdt's fc~cuson erotics, In conjunction with his use of a psychodynamic framewctrk, itself focused on erotics, Herdt's cc~nstructionof "ritualimd homosexuatity" is predicated on a Western concept of sexuality in which

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""sexuat identity" mmprises a central feature of personhood. Foucault" analyses of Western sexuality evince the centrality of ""seaking tlze trutlz'bf one's sexual desires to Wstern individualism 1990a[f 9";7], 1990bj19851), identieifyingthis as a core forum in which persons are made self-actrralizing, that is, through which subjectification fakes place. The salience of the confessional mode in the West, in reference to sexuality, articulates a culturally specific notion of desire as deepiy individuated (authentic or unique to individuals) and internafir~din relation to an exteriorized ""rality.'Thus is sexuality in tlze West, in key respects, tlze signature of individualism writ large. The tzse of this Wstern construction of sexuality in societies organized around very different cuf&ral ideotogies and constructs of tlze person is inappropriate at best and grossly distorting at worst, Erotics and sexuatity certainly merit anthropctlugical inxstigation. The yrobfern, hc~wever,is hrtw to investigate these domains without assuming that we already know what it is we seek. The tendency in the literature on ""rtuatized homosexuality""has been to treat erotics ancl sexuality as pancultural or precrtltural tzniversals. Just as gender and kinship initially appeared in anthropological writings as precuttural givens, and were prctbtemafzed only later, so must sexuality and emttcs be problcmatized and invesdgated-not articulated tlzrough the sextzallerotic equivalent of sex differences or the genealogical grid, The interesting questions and insights will not emerge until W move beyond whatever seemingly bioiogical elements are involved in these domains ancl recognize tlzat cultural belief systems play a profound role in shaping the meanings of, and people's experiences 0.f;ercttjcs and sexuality. Toward that end I have arguecl, contra Herdt, tlzat to begin by characterizing ostensibly sexual practices as strictly ""sexual" is not an appropriate methodc>logy, Werdt's writings focus on semen practices and his anthologies sort, and effectively exottcize, societies on tlze basis of tlzose practices-resulting in what X have argued are distorted analyses, Instead of that approach, f have tried to resituate the meanings of semen practices within the c o n t a t of the common cultural a n cerns to which tlzey are addressed and the common cultural tlzemes with whiclz they resonate. This symbolic approach cotzld also be tzseful for the study of erotics, What will count as ercttic must be the site of concerted critical discussion among antl~ropologistsworking on the subject; to assume that genitally organized activities bemeen same-sexed bodies signifies eroticism is simplistic. I believe anthropotogy as well as lesbian and gay sttrdies are at a point where more refinecl methodologies and terms of analysis are needed. One of the more difficult aspects of dealing with the multivocal and highly arnbiguous category of""eotics" lies in attending to the cultural construction of desire. Xn a popular article on the antl-tropology of: homosexuality, Newton (1988) lzas called for detailed study of the different metaphors and images that inform thinking about desire and sexuality in different societies. Newton draws on Gregorb (1985) work on sexuality among the itletnkakr~(Amazonian Indians), whose folktale about ""the wandering vagina" tells of htzngry vaginas that travel at night in search of satiaticzn, and whose metaphors liken sex to food preparation and eating.

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Newton asks how Mehinalcu wcrmen and men experience desire when genitafs are constructed as hungry (vaginas) and edible (penises), and also raises questions abotzt the ccrnstruction of sexual agency along gender lines. Such attention to culturally specific metaphors and images about sexuatity and erclticism prc~videcrucial insiglzts into the variety of meanings that structure desire and sexuality cmss-culturally. In conjunction with structural analyses of gender, kinship, and econcrmtc domains (such as those exptored in Blackwood 11986)) such txzlages and metaglzors could provide the ethnograplzic detail needed to flesh out tl-te locations and meanings of sexuality and eroticism in different societies, Erotics could also be analyzed by situating such metaphors and images in a semiotic framework where such. metaylzors and images comprise a signifying system in which desire-among the Mehinaku, for example-is partially constructed through an analogy to everyday practices like cooking and eating. Myers's (1988) essay on anger arnang the Plntugt (a Western Desert Australian aboriginal people) lays out such a semiotic framework for the analysts of emotions, Myers" framewcrrk attempts to mediate betwen positivist and interpretivist approaches by advcrcating that anthropotogists treat emotion meaning "like any otlzer semiotic pradice, as a prodrtct of signification" "088:59t). For Myers the ""existential situation of human subjects in a socio-moral order" (1988:591) addresses the striking continuity of the same range of emotions evidenced across cultures, while attencling to how emotions "acquire concrete meaning in cantexts of action" "9RX:592) provides a tool for seeing the cultural sgecificities of emotions. In pmbfematizing erotics for the "ritualized homosexuality7~racticesI have discussed, one could use Myers's semiotic framework to direct. attention to the role of desire in semen practices as well as to the role of fear as experienced by the initiates. Instead of essentializing ""erotics," one might devefop an analysis of how desire, pleasure, and fear may be co-constructed and enacted in boys' initiations, with perhaps some interesting insights into how it is that Sambia youthsover the course of boys3tasitiaton and through daily engagement in semen practices-reconcile or complicate their fear of semen practices into the possible enjoyment or eroticization of semen practices and how this may or may not be connected to the symbolics of semen and the meanings of heterosexual intercourse in their later marriages to women. The attention directed tcr the study of homosexmalities cross-culturally by way of the ""rirualized homosexuality""writings of the past decade has certainly been an improvement over the prior anthropological reluctance to discuss homasexualities, in the West or elsewhere. As f have argued thrcrughrrut this article, however, the form that this exploration of homosexuafities has taken has been fundamentally problematic. Semen practices have been interpreted as ""erotc'kn the basis of their resemblance to the Western domain of the ""sexualP In addition to standing as a lesson in erotic ethnctcentrism, this points to the need to look beyond specif c gractices to tl-te cosmalogical, sociostrt~ctural,symbolic, and produaive relations with which semen practices articulate, and to see the parallels between those relations and non-semen-focus& pradices in other Melanesian societies, The etlznct~aphic

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data from societies with semen practices indicate that erotics and sexuality are not central-anci probably not even relevant-to the meanings of these practtces. Rather, as I have argued, the emphasis in Melanesian societies with semen practices (like the Sambia), as welf as those without semen practices (like the GahukuGrzma), turns a n several Melanesian. themes: the need for men's cultural assistance in the project of growing buys into men; the efficacy of substan~esfttr constituting social, including gender, identities; and the salience of hierarchy in engraving the meaniizgs of masculinity and gerontocracy onto boys%odies in a form modefed on gender hierarchies. This article is a call to remr>\resemen practices from the ""rtualized homosexuality"2iscourse in wl-ich they have been both hcaf point and organizing motig anci to resituate these practices in a more symbolic theoretical framework where these Melanesian themes can cctme to the a n a l ~ i cforegrotznd. fn addition, this article has mrrre fundamental implications fbr the cross-cultural study of seacuaiities, 1 have argued that in diwrting attention awllly from the meaning systems that animate semen practices, analyses of ""ritualizeci homosextzality" have enabled and advocated sequestering ostensibly homosexual practices into a categorical homasexual "type" of saciet-y, sortixig sodefies on the basis of tlze presence of semen practices and treating these societies as if they belonged to their "own place and time" (Herdt 1981:318). f want to suggest that this analytical sequestration, at one Xevef, stands as a logical outcome of homayhobia in the academy-one that crass-culturally ~~seft-11 theories of sexualities clearly must ot~erccrme-l~ TCIerect boundaries arctund ""deviant" and ostensibly ""sexual" p a c tlces in this way avoids mare fundamental questions about the cultural construction of sexuality, At base such boundaries reinstate anci preserve the delineation of heterosexual practices as the norm in relation to which "rituatized homosexuality" i s camprehensibie primarily as an isolated domain of ""prversion.'"2a On tlze other hancl, to treat semen practices as continuous with other cultural practices must entail challenging the ""naturalness" of heterosexuat practice itself*zl The parallels X lzave described between tlze Sambia anci Galzuku-Gama societies evidence the extent to wlzich the ideologies itzforming semen practices in tile br>ys"nitiations of the former are eminently and fruitft~llycomparable with those informing purging and purification rites of the latter, and of numerous other Melanesian societies as well. By way of detailing tlze ideological continuities between the Sambia, Gahuku-Gama, and Kaluli, f have tried ta demonstrate that more appropriate axes of comparison exist beyond the narrrtw and conservative confines of a ""rtualized homosexuality" """tpe'bf society, and indeed that these confines mtzst be challenged if we are to develop adequate analytical toots with which to theorize sexualities cross-cuiturally, Notes Ack~o~vieclgments. The perxnission of Gilhert Ejterdt Is acknowiedged to reprint quoted material from C;uardiarzs of the l:lutes (New York: McCrm-Hilt, 11381f; a l rights rescmed by

Gilbert Herdr, 1994. For revitalizing cormments, asttrte criticisms, and uxlflagging i~rteifec-

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tual support during the development of the present paper and the M.A. thesis on which it is based, I thank my M.A. ahisory comixittee in the Department of Anthropology at NW %rk hiversity: Annette Weiner, Fred Myers, and Faye Ginsburg. I thank the Department New York University, far its firraricial support. X thank ltebecca Gonzhlez of A~~thropology; for her support during the writing of that thesis, The present articte has benefited from the comsxents and criticissxs of numerous people, arnclng wlzom I want especialy to thas~k Sarah FranMit-t,Evie Blackwood, Lila Abu-Ltrghod, Rambi Schieffelin,Anna Meigs, Mildred Uickemann, and the three anonymclus Rrnenca~EtZzrzalogisl reviewers, I thank Uianne ElIistrln far copyediting the article. FinaUy, for her ongoil~glove, faith, and ixzspiratian, I thank Linda Uasliels. Kespc~nsihifityfor the final product is, of course, rxy own. I. The typoiog to which I ailude, and that Hercit endorses (l993:h), defines the possible social organizatiot~sof homosexuality cross-culturally as falling into one of four ideal types: age-structured, gender-strrrctured, role- or profession-structured, and egajitarian/"gayn (Adam 1986; Greeslberg 1988; Mt~rray1992), Generated from exctusivefy andrc>centricdaea, this v p o j o g has heen descril3ed and deployed as if analytically capable of etlcornpassing ail lzomosexr~alities,and it rernaills the most prorninerlt antllrc~pologicalparadigm for amaly~ing Iiomosex~~alities cross-culmraiiy despite its many shortcomings. For example, it callnot account for marly female hornc>seAwalities, in part beca-tts it llolds no theoretical place for the cer?rl-ralityof culturaitiy specific gender ideoiogies and practices for shapir-tgthe social organi~~tiorz of homosexualities (see KIachood X 986; Elliston 1993). 2. I use the terms masculine ancl fetraz'nine throtzghour this article to designate the gendered dirnensiom of social identities. While fitrzirzine may 11ave misfeadirtg corznotations, it is a more r~sefulterm than, for exampfe, wunepz or fenztlle, both c~fwhich align sexlgender with bodies and with sexuality in ways that can elide the cuftrrralfy specific meanings of both gender and scrxttality (see Butler 1930; dc Lauretis $987; knagisako and CoUier 1987'). My use o f r l ~ eterms vzasculine arldfeminine, then, is meant to focus on gender as a cultural construct. 3. I use the terms Western and Eurcr-Arrrericun interchaxigeably in this article, and with reservations. Both terms gloss complex and multiple histories and corztemporary situalabels is tions and are, therefore, fundamentally troubling. My use of suclz slzortha~~d rneant to draw attention to patterns of behavior and belief systefns that are, mi~zinraljy,famiiiar to social actors within the geopolitical boundaries of Euro-American societies, with the recognition that many i~zdividuais-sucll as, far example, members of different identity groups (cultural, ethnic, religious, and sexual, amclng others) and maqinalized to varying degrees-may not wholly participate in or wholly subscribe to the dominant patterns of behaviors and belief systerxs. 4, Herdt has joined this tradition in writing of the need to ""distinguish between outward sexual bel~aviiorand interxral identity" "1 his w r k s orz ""rtrratized homosexuatity'" ( t984a:x; I993:ix; see aim Wexdt t99fa, f 991b). 5,Ferninist philosopher Marilyn Frye ( 1990) has questioned whether lesbians In the United States even "have sex," argttirlg that American cultural and historical undesstandIngs of ""sd' are not only heterosexual hut contingent on male orgasm. 6 , In his recent "Introductiorl to the hperback Edition" of Rilualized Ifomosexut.llilyfin M g l ~ t l z ~ Herdt ~ a ~ ~ renarnes , the subject hoy-man sernen practices "boy-inseminating rites'" ($393:k), a term he identifies as instnirxentally based and designed to avoid some of the problems he now recognizes as elldernic to his use of the term ""fiotnosexuaIity." His reconsideration of the difficrrlties of the category ""hmosexuality" is, llotvever, for the most part

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confined to this level: It does rxot iead him to a reconfiguratiorz of the domain ofU"resexual" that, I argue, remains h~~dartxentaIly problematic in the writings on ""rtualized hornosexuality.'" 7. Knaufi (1990) has challenged Werdtk saccoulit of the geographical distribution of semen practices, argrring that ordy societies w s t of the Trans-Fly area actuatly included semen practices in their btrys211itiations (see also Knauft 11 393). 8, See Blackwood 1986 for a discussiorz of biological explanatiorzs. 9.111 a recent book Knau& (11393) analyzes the distributican and meanings of "ritualized homosexuality" in Melanesia as part of his larger project of probiernatizing the al-ralytical construction of culture areas, As with the present analysis, Knauft is critical of the ways ""rtualized homosexuaiity" has been used to sort societies and create culttrre areas and he cails for more fine-grained analyses of the meanit-rgsof the different I-romosexualities,heterosexualities, and bisexualities forind in South New Guinea societies. Xrr contrast to what I I-raveargrxed here, hcrtvever, Knaufi Is not interested in ""devolving to a disagreement about categc>ries,definitions or Western trcyes" used for the analysis of ""rtuatked Ezomc~sexuatIty" and sees such disagreements as the "expected outcome of changing the scale of comparative analysis'" 1993:58). In the present article it is precisely the "categc>ries,definitions and Western troyes" that are at issue and that X treat as having fi~i~darnentai episternological and methodological significance for the anttrrt~pojogicalstudy of sem~alities. 10. In respol-rseto scholarly writings appearil~gin the decade since Ritualized Ikzmosexu ~ l i it1 y *WeInnesiawas first published, Herdt al'iows, in Iiis recent ""Xtrodrrction to the Paperback Edition" of that book, that ""rtualized homosexuaiity" xnay not be as widespread or as geograpl-rically systemic as he I-rad originally claimed (Elerdt 1993; see also FXerdf 1984b). Even as he 1~dkesthis acknowledgment, however, Herdt reiterates his claim that semen practices are ""prehistoric, perhaps 10,000 or rnore years oid" f f 993:xv) and rrmoves to dismiss chalenges to his theory that semen practices constitute an ancient ritual cornpIex by writing that " [ t ] l ~ o ~ the ~ g bnumbers of grotzps are open to dispute, their irnportance for theory and the understanding of MeLanesirzn area-wide cultural structure and ontology clearly is not'" 1993:mii). l l. Knauft, for example, in a review that engages some of the psychcrdpamic issues raised in Herdt's Rittuubized Ikzmosexuubit~~ in Melanesilt ctlllection, condudes that "anexpIanatiun of Melanesian homosexuality [sic) based orz psycl-rodynarnic factors and one based on social or cultural determinants are each partial and insornpletem";e calls for ""a perspective that can link"" these api>roaches(1987:177). While Kna~xfisrrggestior~w u l d probably i~nprovethe study of most cultural phenomena, he is atso only too exempbry in ideritieing selxen practices as in particular need of explanation, My point is that to isolate these prxtices as r e ~ i r i r l gexplanatic>n-as most writers on the stibject have done-is intrinsically problematic, more problematic is that the exptanations profkred generally reAect Western biases and ideologies, 12, NThitehead(t986a, 1986b) has also attempted to reanalyze boys5intiations in Papua New Grri~zeain a brcjader context, treating Initiatiom Involving semen practices alongside other kinds of initiatclry tecllniques through a focus on what she more generally labels Mefanesian "krtility cults." Her concern in the subject essays is with the forms of political com~nl~nity that fei-tility cults help to i~lsta~ltiate and regulate, with manhood and clanhood being primary ctlntrasts. m i l e her essays are xiot focused on ""rtualized hoxnosexuality,?they utilize and develop some of the concerrls prt~minentin the present article, most significantly tile meanings of gellder and of substances, delxoxlstratillg the relevance and Importance of retheorizing both in order to better understand Mefanesian societies.

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13. See the disc~rssiorzsand examples In Wston 1992 and Blackmod 1986. 14, See Stolteriberg 1989 for an interesting analysis of the variation in what counts as the ""fcts" of male sexual arorrsal. 15, mether, for examt~le,there is solmething qualitatively diEerent about the act of orgasm that wrrid make the excl~angeof orgasmic flxrids rnore meanir~gfirl,more highly charged, or rnore significant than the exchange of ally other suhstaslce should, 1suggest, be treated as an open, empirical qtrestion, 16, For elaboration on some important differences between Western and Melanesian gender categories, see Strathertl: 1988:98-1 32 and Meigs 1999- This article does not attempt an analysis of Westerr?epistemofogy or of what many philosophers and historians have identified as a Wstern intolerarlce of ambiguity at the level of conceptual categories {seeForrca~xlt1990aj19781; Jay 1981; L1oy-d 1984). For an interesti~agexampie of rvhar may be at stake in Nrestern gender and sexuality bounhry traxisgression see Fotrcattlt's introduction to the journals of Herctrline Karbin, and the journals themselves (Forxcatrit, ed. 1980);see also Butler 11990:93-106 on Foucault's analysis.. 17, See Meigs 1984 and Counts 1985 on the exchange of foods and body substances; Wreiner 11976,14392 on exchaslge i11 the Massim; and Stsathern 1971 and Strathern 1988 on the exchange of p igs. 18. Adopti~lga persl3ective that analyzes sl~hstaslcesas media of exchange suggests altcrnative ways of theorizing the references to wormeds ""debi)itatingnand ""contaxninating" "1Auences so commorz in the literature on boys initiations. Xn partictrlar it srrggests a rxeect to study Inure thort~ughlyiocaI ctlnstructs of how fexnininity is culturally produced, with particular attention to the role of sui2stances identified as ferni~zine.The ways In wl~ichthe nr>tic->n of "fernate potlutior~'%hasbeen depfoyed in Melarlesian ethnography, especiafly in the writings on ""xitualized homosexuaiity," freqtrently obstructs analysis of the meanings the notion that feminine substances of ferni~linesubstances by failing to disting~~ish threatex1 masculinity from the notion that such substances symbolize fe~ernininity-where, in a cultt~ralcontext in which substa~lcessignify and prt~ducegender differerlces, 131en's cotltact with fe~nininesubstances would underlnine the symbofic bases, and thus the cultural constmction, of mascufini2-yitself. 1% 1 thank the anonyrnuus American Ethnologbr reviewer who highlighted this irnplication and suggested X pursue it. 20.. It is from such a perspective, for example, that ql~estiunsabout how Samhia men "witch" "from homosexual to heterosexual motkation gain the apparance of reievance or appsopri"eness f see Herdt 11 38 1). 21. This in turn should propel the mtzch-needed anthropological investigations into how heterosext~aldesires and practices are made culturally nr>rmative,meaningful, or appropriate, and should also generate critical exarmination of the orgaxiizing axes of homosexuality and l~eterclsexualitythemselves.

References Adam, Barry D. 19886,Age, Structure and Sexuality, Journal of Homosexuality t t :19-33, AIlen, Michael R, 1984, Ffomosexuality, Male Power, and I>oiiticalOrganizatiorz In North Vanuatu: A Comyaratiw Analysis. In Elitualized Woxnosexuality in Melanesia, Gitbert H. Herdt, ed. Pp. 83-126, Kerketey: University of California Press. Blackwood, Evetyn 1986. Breaking the Mirror: The Goslstruction of Lesbianism and the Anthrclpoiogicai Discorrrse orz Homosexuality. JPZThe Many Faces of Homosexuality:

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Anthropoiogicai Approaches to Harnosexual Behmvior. Evelyn Blackwood, ed. Pp. 1-1 7 , New York: Earrington Park Press, Blackwod, Eveiyn, ed. 3986, T11e Many Faces of Rorrtosexuality: Anthropological Approacl~esto Homosexual Behavior. New York Harrington Park Press, Butler, Judith 1999. Gender Trc>rxbie:Feminism and the Srrbversion of Identity New York: Rot~tledge. 19993. Bodies That Matter. New Xxk: Rot~dedge. Counts, Dorotby A. 1985. Infa~ltCare and Feeding in Kaliai, West New Britain, P a p a New Guinea. IY~ Infant Care and Feeding in the South Pacific, Leslie B, Marshalt, ed. Pp. 155-1 69. New York: Gordon and Breach, Creed, Gerald Fli. 1984. Sexual Subordination: Xnstitutionalirzed Holrrtosexuality and Social Corrtroi in Melanesia, Ethnoliog 23(3):157-1 76. Davis, D. L., and R, G, mittex1 1987. The Cross-Cultural Study of Wuxnall Sexuality. Anrxlxal Review of Anthropology 15:69-98. de Lauretis, Teresa 1987. Technologies of Gender: Essays on TI~eory,Film, and Fictit~n, Bloomington: University of Indiana Press. Elliston, Dehorah A, 11393. Revjet+/t$Oceanic Hornc)sext~alities.jsurr?aI of the I-listo~-)bof Sexuality 4:3 f 9-32 1. Foucault, Michel 1990ai19785, The History of Sext~ality,'Jolttme l: An Intrc>dtlctioa.New York: Vintage Books. 1990bjZ 3851. The Use of Pleasrrre: The History of Sexuality,TSaltxme 2, New %rk: Vintage Books. Folxcatrlt, Michei, ed, 19880, Herctlline Barbin, Bei~rgthe Recently Discovered Memoirs of a Nineteenth-Century Hermaphrodite. Richard McUougalf, tram. New York: Gotophoa. and Gultrrres. JeffiierAllen, ed. Frye, Mariiyn 1990. Lesbian ""Sex." In Lesbian Pl~ilosopl~ies Pp. 305-3 16. Albarly: State University of New York Press. Greenherg, David F, 1988. The Corlstruction of Hamosexuality, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Gregor, Thomas. 1985. Arxiaus Pleasures. Chicagu: University of Chicago Press. Rage, Per 1981. On Male Initiatiorz and Dual Organisation in New Gtlinea. Man (n.s.) 163268-275,

Rerdt, Gilbert H. 1981. Guardians of the Flutes: Idioms of Masculinity. New X1rk: MCGraw-Hill. 1882. Fetish and Fantasy in Sambia Initiation, It$ Rituals of Manl~ood.Gilbert H. I-lerdt, ed. Pp. 4&98. Berkeley: University of California Press. t984a. Editor" Preface. Itz Ilituaiized Homosexuality in Melanesia. GiXbert H. I-lerdt, ed. Pp. vii-mii, Berkeley: Universiq of Califi3rnia Press. 1984b. Rituaiized Waxnosexual Behavior in the Male Cults of Melanesia, 1862-1983: An Tntrodudion. In Ritualized HomosexuaIity In Melanesia. Gilbert H, Herdt, ed, Pp. 1-82. Berkefey: University of Gaiibrnia Press. 1984~.Sernen Transactions in Sarnhia Crxiture. In Ritualized Homosexuaiity In Melanesia. Gilbert H. Herdt, ed. Pp. 167-210. Berkeley: University of California Press. 1987,The Accorrntabiliiq of Sarnhia Initiates, JPZAnthropcjlog in the High bilttys: Essays or? the New G~iineaHighlands in Hont>rof Kenneth E. Read. L. L. Langness and Terence E, Ways, eds. Pp, 237-281. Novato, C A : Challdler & Sharp Publishers, 1981a. Representations of Hornc)sexttality i11 Traditional Societies: An Essay on CuIt~lralOntology and Historical Coxnpaxison, Part 1. Journal of the History of SexualIty 3 348 1-504.

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1991h. Representations of Homosexuality in Traditiorzal Sc,cieties: An Essay on CuIttlral OntoIogy and Historical Coxnparison, Part 2. Journal of the History of Sexuality 2:503432, t 993. Introduction to the Paperback Edition. It3 Ritualized Homosexuality in Melanesia. Gilhert W. Herdt, ed. Pp. vii-xliv, Paperback ed. Rerkeley: University of Caiifornia Press. Ejterdt, Gilbert, ed. 1982. Rituals of Marxlaood: Male Initiation in Paprra New Guinea. UerkeLey: University of California Press. l"34 ltitualized Homosexuality in Melanesia. Bexkeley: University of California Press. 1993, Elitualized Homosexuality in Melanesia, Paperback ed. Bexkeley: tiniwrsity of California Press. Herdt, Gilbert, and ltobert J, SroIler 1990. Intimate Coml-xlunications: Erotics and the Study of Crxlture. New York: Coltxmbia University Press. Jay, Nancy 1981. Gender and Dichotomy*Ferninist Saldies 711):3&-56. Katz, Jonathar~Ned 1990,The Inventiorx of Heterosexuality. Socialist Review 9Q(1):7-34. Keesing, Roger M. 1982. Introduction, In Rituals of Manhood. Gitbert H, Htrdt, ed, Pp. 1-43, Berkeley: University of California Press, Knau&, Bruce M. 1987, Revim Essay: Hornosen~alityin Melanesia. The Journal of Psychoanalytic Anthropology t O(2): 155-1 9 l . 1990. The Question of Ritualized Ejtomosexuaiity among the K i w i of South New Guinea. The Journal of Pacific History 25: 188-2 10. t 993. South Coast New Guinea Cufrures: History, Comparison, Dialectic. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lederman, Rena 19990. Contested Order: Gender and Society in the Southern New Guinea Highlands. I n Beyond the Second Sex: New Directiczns in the Anthroltoloa of Gender. P e g y lteeves Sanday and XXuth GaIlagher Goodenough, eds, Pp, 45-73. Philadelphia: University of t3ennsylvania Press. Lindexzbaum, SI-tirley 1984. Variations on a Sociosexual Therne in Melanesia, In Elitualized Ejtomosexrxaiity in Melanesia. Gilbert H. Herdt, ed. Pp, 337-361. Rerkeiey: University of California Press. 1987, The Mystification of Female Labors. IB Gender and Kinship: Essays Toward a Unified Arlalysis. J a m Fishburne Goffier and Sylvia Junko hnagisako, eds. Pp. 221-243. Stanford, CA: Stanford University IJress. Lfoyd, Genevieve 1984. The Man of Reason: "Male" and ""l-"rwaleWin Wrestern Pl~ilosoply: Minneayolis: tiniwrsity of Minnesota Press. Meigs, Anna S, 1976, Male Pregnancy and the Reductic~nof Sexual 0ppc)sition in a New Guinea Highlands Society, Ethnology 15(4f :393-407, 1978, A Papuar~Perspective on Poflrxtion, Man (1z.s.) 13:304-3 18, 19884. Food, Sex, and Pollution: A New Guinea XXeligiota, New Brunswick, Nf: XXutgers University Press. 1990. Multiple Gender Ideologies and Statuses, In Ueyorld the Second Sex: New Directiom in the Anthropology of Gelader. Pegm Reeves Sanday and Ruth Galfagher Goodenc>ugh,cds, Pp. 101-1 12, Philadefyhia: University of f3iennsyfvania Press. n.d. Killship and Gender: A FIuid Model, Unpublished MS, Murray, Steyhen 0. f 992. Oceanic Homosem~afities.New York: Garland P~~blishing. Myexs, Fred R. 1988. The Logic and Meaning of Anger among P i ~ u pAborigines. i Mar2 f n.s.1 23:589-610,

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Newton, Esther 1988. Qf )"am,Grinders & Gays: T l ~ eAntl~ropoiogyof Homosexuality Out/Look (Spring) l(I):28-37. Read, Kenneth E. 1952, Nama Crxlt of the Centraj Highlands, New Guinea. Qceania 23(1): 1-25. 19665. The High Valfey, New York: Charles Scrihner's Sons. 11382. Male-Female Relationships amclng the Gahuku-Gama: 1950 and 1981. In Sexual Antagonism, Gender, and Social Change in Paprra New Guinea (special issue of Social Analysis). Fitz John P. Poolc and Gilbert H. Herdt, eds. Pp. 66-78, Adelaide, South Australia. Homosen~atityin Mela~lesia.Gilbert 1984. The Nitmu Cult Recalled. Ira Rit~~alized H, Herdt, ed. Pp, 21 1-247, Berketey: University of Gaiihrmia Press. Cambridge: Carnhridge Schieffeli~r,Ramhi R. 1990, The Give and Take of Everyday Lifet?. University Press. Schieffeli~r,Edward L. 19776. The Sc,rrotu of the Lorzely and the Rurxzing of the Dancers. New York: St. Martin" Press. 1982. TEte Buu u Ceremonial Hunting Lodge: An Alternative to Initiation. It$ Rituals Press. of Manhood. Gilhert H, Herdt, ed. Pp. 155-200. Berkeley: Ulliversity of Cafifc>rl~ia Schwirnxnex, Eric 1984. Male Coulsles in New Guinea. Xn ElituaIized Homosexuality in Melanesia. Gilbert H. I-ierdt, ed. Pp. 248-2911. Berkeley: University of Califc~rrliaPress. Stoltenberg, John 1989. Elefusing to Be a Man: Essays on Sex and Justice, Portland, 01%: Kreitenbush Rooks. Strathern, Andrew J, 1971, The Rope of Moka: Big Men and GerelnoniaI Exchange in Morrnt Hagen. Cambridge: Caxnk~ridgeUniversity Press, Stratl~ern,Marilyn 1987. Introduction, Irz Dealing with 111equality:Analysing Gender Kelations in Melanesia and Beyond, Marityn Stratherxr, ed. Pp. 1-32. Cambridge: Cambridge tmiversity Press. 1988. The Gender of the Gift: Problelxs with Fliomen and Problems with Society in Melanesia. Berkeley: University of California Press. Van Baal, J. 1984. The Dialectics of Sex in Marind-anirn CuIttlre. Xn Ritualized Hoxnosexuality in Meianesia. Gilbert H. EIerdt, ed, Pp. 128-166. Rerkeiey: tmiversity af California Press, Weiner, Annette R. 1976, Women of Valrxe, Men of Reno)wn: New Perspectives in Trobriand Exchanp. A~tstin:University of Texas Press. 1992. Inalienahfe Possessions: The Paradox of Keeping-While-Givi~rg.Kerkley: University of California Press. Wston, Kath 1991. Faxnilies We Choose: Lesbians, Gays, Kinship New Y u k Cojurnbia University Press. 19993. LesbiaxliGay Studies in the House of Anthropology. Annual Eleview of Anthropology 22:339-367, Whitehead, Harrier B, 1986a. The Varieties of Fertility Cultisxn in New Guinea: Part I. American Etllnologist 13:8&99. 11 386h. The Varieties of Fertility Ct~ltismin New Guinea: Part 11,American Etl~no:,logist 13:27 1-289, Yanagisakc~,Sylvia funk(>,and fane Fishhurne Collier 1987. T<>warda Unified Analysis of Gender and Minshik,, In Gender and Kinshik,: Essays towaird a Unified Analysis, Jarle Fishbur~~e Collier and Sylvia Junko Yanagisako, eds. Pp. 14-50. Sta~lford,CA: Stanford University Press.

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PART THREE

I N EVERY H U M A N SOCIE'TY S E R I O U S A N D SYSVTEMKI.LCEFFORDI.SARE M A D E

to penetrate the nature and causation of illness and thereby to heal the munded, cure the sick, save the dying, and do something about the mentatfy impaired. And in most human societies, if not in all, tlze efforts frequently involve some variety of "altered states of consciousness" "(ASC), whether it be entering a state of trance, possession by spirits (ancestors, deities, ghosts, etc.), or both. Mirzsternderived biomedicine (tlzat is, medical practices ~ f l e c t i n gtlze scientific paradigm) has only recently begun to make tentative steps ttrward considering mental or psychologicai states such as those encompassed by AS6 as contributing in any demonstrable sense to tlze lzealing process. This difference of: opinion makes for many serious problems, only some of which can be pursued here. There are, for example, problems of clefinidon: What is tranc"e"s it synonymous with sev-hypnosk (whatever we mean by that)? Xs trance one phenomenon wherever and hc~weverit occurs, or are there varieties andlor degrees andlor ccrnditions, all enctompassed by outside observers with this single term? Clan people Fake it, and if so why would tlzey, and how could the outsider tell. if: they are? Is what the anthropological literature refers to as W-ance a Ebrm of-or in any way related to-merztal illness in either its human-universal or culturally specific manifestations? These are just a few of the many questions that arise when trance is discussed from a crosscultural perspective-and trance, when compared to possession, is comparatively simple. Possession irnplties the betief that an alien entity has taken control. of, or even replaced, the mind of the person so affected, The alien entity may be the mind of another living human, the ghost or spirit of some deceased person, a r some ather kind of entity such as a demon or god. hssession may occur by invitation by the person to be ""possessed" or against that person" knowledge or desire, and the

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The Xleuling Touch and Altered St~ites

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possession may be the source of illness or malaise or it may be the mechanism fcjr acl~ievingcure or relief. This does not exhaust the functions of possession; in the fascinating nineteenth-century case study documenting possession among Hasidic Zews in Eastern Europe, Yoram Bilu suggests that dybbuk possession, almost always of women by male spirits, is an elaborate cultural mechanism that embodies issues of gender, status, and p o w r hierarchies in communities dominakd by male religious leaders. f-fowexr, whatexr the particular cultural manifestatic~nor interpretation of possession, as far as biomedicine (or ""science" in general) is concerned there is nu szkch t\tirtg as the aforementioned "alien entity"-so medical or psychological explanations of what is actually happening durir~gpossession range from pure fake to schizcryhrenic fugue to ""10n3t t o w what's happening and f don't bbeliee it, but they do!" Yet anthropologists and other observers keep reporting back tlliat sornetlzing does seem to be happening to participants (and sometimes even to observers!) during possession, as during trance and other states. Physiological responses and reflexes of people during ASC change measurably from tlzeir "normaX'%r 'kegufar" mmafestatitrns: Sick people sometimes demonstrably get better, and seemingly healthy people suddenly get sick or even die. Furthermore, those who practice or experience possession are often indisputably rzot charlatans or observably mentally unstable; rather, they are quite often respected, responsible, and valued members of their communities. The foregoing reflects only part of the traditional debate in anthropologicaj literature about altered states of conciousness. See, fbr example, Aiwa Ong" study of spirit possession in Malapian factory settixligs (1987). In the chapters in this part, particular attention is given to the role of ASC ancl the healing process as part of the larger sociorefigious context, as, for exampie, the interplay betwen ASC and an effort at ""modernization"" of health care-that is, when the traditional beliefs and practices of a given society come into contact with biomedicine and other manifestations of nonindigenous belief systems. Variczus aspects of this interplay are explored by Sidney M, Greenfield in his account of Brazilian healers who, along with their patients, enter into an altered state of conscictusness during which surgical procedures are performed without anaesthesia or antiseptics. Susan M. Kenyon analyzes the recent prctliferation of tlze zar in the Republic of Sudan from the perspectives of gencier, access to medical services, and global migration strategies, Lesley A. Sharp deffnes a range of symptctrns and experiences tha-re conceptualized lctcally in northwestern Madagascar along a continuum wllie~rebyspirit possession ancl madness occupy oy posite poles. These chaptar vary widely in problem and approach but may be obsertred to contait~a number of common questions and issues: Who gets possessed most frequently-men or women?-and how ccrnvincing are the expianations of why it happens that way? What differences are to be obsertred in societies in which

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possession is wlcomed as a harbinger of healing as against those in societies where possession is dangerous or unwelcome? How do sucl~issues affect the role and bebavior of the heafer? The global spread of the biomedical paradigm introduces other questions. How can people believe in two mutually exclusive systems, suclz as germ theory of disease and possession by evil spirits? Antbony F. C. Mrjllace (1966) has suggested that in cases where such confiicting or dissonant beliefs are hefd, an eventual ""smplification of the repertoire" takes place, anci either one or the other of the conflicting beliefs is crowded out or some fusion of the two is achiet~ed. Recent ethnograpl-ric data, we may observe, tend to suggest that instead of ""sinplification" in the case of:health care meciicaf doctors and traditional healers may offer ccrmplementary services in medically plturalistic systems. There seems to be a tendency, for example, for people in such societies to visit traditional healers for one kind of problem and medical doctors for anctthex;in the belief that the two types of:healers present different levels of explanation or comfort. This pluralistic strategf. raises questions about how the practitioners of the two systems relate to each other, Do they achieve some measure of accommodation or are they bitter enemies? Although it is dif5cuft to make universal generalizaAmerican medical system may provide some interesting tions, the ccrntempc->rary clues, Medical practitioners, I-XfviLBs,and even insurance companies are increasingly willing to make accommodations that balance a wide range of cufturaf befief systems, This aceptance of the role of cufturaf ideas about healing suggests the possibility that altered states of consciorrsness and the religictus systems within which they are embedded will be invigorated by, rather than replaced by, Western biomedical science, References

Qng, Aiwa 1987 Spil-ia of R e ~ Z s ~ ~ ~n cne C~aj~ilslrEist d Discipliuze: Facrory IVomeuz z'ya Mrabaysiu. Aibaly: State University of New York Press. Wailace, Anthony F: C. 1966 Religion: An AuzthrqoEqicuE Vie%< New York: Random House.

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Exorcists, Psychiatrists, and ems of Possession in Northwest a d a g a s c a r Lesley A. Sharp For the Sakalava of northwest Madagascar, spirit prrssession and madness occupy opposing poles on a spectrum of experiences which, in indigenous terms, range fmnz a gcrod, powerht, and inescapable state to a destructhe, dangerous, and kigbtening illness, N i l e yossession by the most pc3werful spirits is honorable and permanent, the excessive suffenng that some mediums e x p e r i e n ~leads them to seek a way out; in other cases, chronic madness frustrates the afflicted mcl their kin who search for, but rarely find, a cure, Psychiatrists and Protestant exorcists offer iast resort options to these individuafs, but the efficacy of tlzeir treatments varies greatly, While patients and healers are all Malagasy, sub-ethnic divisions are, nevertheless, crucial to defining the tensions that arise within these two alternative therapeutic contexts, The relevance of each ayproacl-tand efficacy of its associated treatments hinge on the success of the yqchiatrist and exorcist to mediate between these ethnic dbisions, In turn, each practitioner is faced with the task of ix-ttegratingconflicting ey isternological realities surrounding illness. lPJhife exorcisms may be painful and frustrating to patients, the exorcisb are more succlessfu'ul as healers, since tl-tey first accept and then transform the patients\xplanations for and experiences of pr>ssessionand madness. During Pratestant healing rituals, posses?;lon is viewed as an appropriate idicrrn for describing illness, and madness is redefinecl as normative, not deviant, behavior. Failure among psychiatrists can be traced to their inabiliq to comprehend or accept their patientskexperiences,a disjunction exacerbated by their acceptance of a cognitive model basecl on western sensibilities. The psychiatrist must grapple with the frustrations and misunderstandings that arise when these Malagasy and western models collide. Uftiznately this carries implications for ern-

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powrment vs disempczwerment of patient and healer in the therapeutic context. The pro"oems revealed in this study of therapetltic process in Madagascar may bear on similar situations cross-culturally. -Ae~thor"sAbst.racr Introduction For the Sakalava of nortlzwest Madagascar, definitions of spirit possession and madness are intertwined, defining a spectrum of symptoms and experiences, each with its distinct set of appropriate therapeutic responses. Pcrssessiczn by rcryal dead, or tromba spirits, is regaded as sacred and lzonnrllble and is a common experience especially among women. Mediums say that they periodically suffer (tnQaly) from the actions of these spirits; nevertheless, once a medium instates her spirits, they become a permanent fixture in her life. In contrast, madness is a dangerous-and, Izopefully, temporary-state, The kin of the afflicted often travel great distances and may exhaust their resources in their search for cures. A marginal area b e ~ e e nthese two distinct categories is occupied by various forms of possession sickness, involving dangerous anci volatile spirits which must be driven from their victims befbre they risk permanent harm, A wide array of indigenous healers-including spirit meditrms ( t r o m b ~tsig~ip kata~oro),hehalists (mousy/ombiusy), anci diviners (rnpisikidy)-ylv key rotes in diagnosing and treating spirit prrssession and madness and their associated problems, If the efforts of these practiticzners fail to improve the health status of a patient, slze, often with her kin, may seek assistance from nnn-indigenous lzealers: typically, these are Protestant ext~rcistsor psychiatrists, Either of these options ser-tresas a last choice in a locally-conceived hierarchy of resort" Two factors account for this reluctance to consult with Protestants and psychiatrists: ethnic factionalism betwen local Sakalava and non-Sakalava migrants; and what I will refer to as ""cnflicting" or ""aternative epistemological reatities"? defined by Malagasy vs western cognitive systems, Spirit pas"e"sion has long been a focus of interest for theologians 12-51, In terms of psychologicaf and psychiatric orientaticzns, there is, likewise, an extensive literature in anthropology addressing the efficacy of indigenous healers in treating mental illness 16-14]. Other authc~rshave questioned the validity of applying psychiatric; diagnoses cross-culturally. This literature identifies psychiatry as being most effectt-trewhen applied to western, middle class whites [ 15- 171, Others suggest that psychiatry can be applied eectively cross-culturalfy if communication and understanding exist between therapist and patient. Ktelnman [ 18,191, for example, has arguecl that tlzerapeutic approacl~esfait when patient and healer embrace different and ccrnf'licting"explanatory models" of illness, The vatue of this apprcrach is that i t addresses the impasses encountered as a result of cultural differences or misunderstandings between patient and healer. Its shortcoming, hrrwever, is that it assumes that psychiatric approaches can be effective if the therapist is culturally sensitive to the patient" beliefs, yet it fails to acknowl-

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edge more profound differences. Specificafly, it overlooks the ways in which illness, from the subjective view of the patient, is cog1titiveJly and epktemologicaEZy experienced: Atso, as Pappas 1201 has noted, a major deficit of such an approach is tlzat it overlooks the releva~zceofpower in tlze therapeutic context. Xn lzis essay "The Effectiveness of- Symbols': Lkvi-Strauss j21] campar^es the shaman" critfi with that of the psychoanalyst, He argues that while the shaman draws from a ccrllectively shared mythology to ease the pain of a patient (in this case a wctman ctxperiencing a difficuit birth), the psychoanalyst" technique involves breaking down and reordering the patient" personal myths that are embecided in lzer uncanscious to create a new reality and understanding on a personal level j22], LCvi-Strauss proposes that psyclziatric tlzeary could be strengthened by analping the effectiwness of the shaman" techniques in curing individuals in distress. But what happens when the psychiatrist is called uycrn to treat the shaman for, in this case, the spirit medium)? In Madagascar, it is the Xanguage and the logic of psychiatric vs Protestant approaches that affect the outcome of treatment. The irony of:the Madagascar case is that while patients, exorcists anci psychiatrists are all essentially of the same general culture (Malagasy), the nature of biomedicine makes it impossible for the psychiatrist ttr be cognizant ofthe patient" beliefs. Biomedicine as appltied in northern Madagascar is a system that is exctusionary of other belief systems: sgecificatly, psychiatric training requires a reordering of beliefs that make it impossible for psychiatrists to comprehend their patients, everz if t h q share u sinzilar cultural backgrouuzd, Their epistemoXogica1 realities are radically different and this affects tl-eatment, The possi"oliity of cure hinges, to a large extent, on their understanding Sakalwa perceptions of the wcrrld, especially in regard to the relationship betwen their cttsmoiogical system and concepts of illness. As this study will show, psychiatrists in Madagascar have much to learn not just from shamans, but from exorcists,

The assessment of therapeutic eficacy and success can be highly problemafc, As Csordas I231 lzas asserted, tlzis domain is generally neglected in anthropology Csordas argues that studies of healing generally focus on procedure (""who does what to whc>m3')and, less frequently, on the autcorncr, which he defines as ""the final disposition of participants both with respect to their expressed level of satisfaction with healing, and to change (positive or negative) in symptoms, pathology, or fixncdoning," More Imyortantly);processremains a ""back bctx" where there is little focus on or ~~ncierstanding of the experiences of:participants "with resyect to encounters with the sacred, episodes of: insiglzt, or cl-tanges in tl-tought, emotion, attitude, meaning, behavior." His discussion of the therapeutic process is framed by a study of Catholic charismatic healing, where a variety of outcomes are posibble, Csordas stresses that anthropologists need to fake a pragmatic approach, exploring the cttncrete, subjective experiences of patients in order to as-

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sess the transformative nature of healing and therapeutic succress or failure 123, pp. 121-1221, Csordashdvice proves fruitft~lfor the study of Protestant and psychiatric treatments of possession and madness in Madagascar, Anthropological unders~anding of possession and madness occupy murky ground; unclerstandi~~g therapeutic efficacy in these contexts is extremely problematic since, unlilte physical ailments, it may be difficult for the observer to recognize the presence or absence of X aX symptoms, In addition, understanding a patient's specific, subjective itnpressions of possession in Madagascar may be blocked because spirit mediums in Madagascar (and many other cultures) do not remember what transpil-ed when they were possessed andlor in trance. Thus, in this specific cultural context, ideas about therapeutic success are shaped by three ycrints of view: the impressions and experiences of the patient, the patient's kin and tbe practitioner. Ultimately, there must be consensus among these parries. Therapeutic success is defined by, first, the absence w$tzndcrstanding therapeutic efficacy requires several levets of analysis. First, in rekrence to Csordas%bf ack box, therapeutic procedure and process are it~efiricablylinked in tlze Madagascar case. A comparative approach reveals that divergent methods and approaches used by ex(>rcistsand ysychiatrists account for very different outcomes and levels of success among patients who are troubled by extreme cases of possession and madness. Protestant ext~rcistsrely on convefiionczrytactic?;,drawing from and transforming indigenous definitions of illness. This can be a cathartic experience for patients, where the notion of ""cure'' hvofvcs redefining illness in clzristian terms, enabling patients (and their kin) to cope in new and, at times, ingentzous wiays with illness; as Csordas statesl231 (who in turn quotes Frank [24l), religious healing may alter "aperson's kssumytivc world'" bee also 25,261. In contrast, the manner in which psychiatry is applied in Madagascar denies the relevance trf indigenous deffnitions of possession and madness, As a resuft, a lack of tlnderstanding and communication between psychiatrist and patient exclu~iesthe patient from the tl~erapeutic process j2v. Ethnic factionalism in Madagascar ccrmycrunds the problems that are inherent to the profession. Second, a carehf analysis of: the eyistemofogical realities of patient vs healer is also required if we are to understand these potentially competing stzbjective points
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might these undermine therapeutic efficacy? How might they be thwarted or clzannelled and put to goad use? The manner in which these practitioners acknowledge, on the one hand, and miss entirely, on the other, the indigenous Sakafava cognitive system carries significant implications for therapeutic efficacy. Ironically, it is tlze exorcist, who not only uncierstancis the core of:Sakalava beliefs, but wh~ralso changes them, who proves to be the more successful of the two,

His-t-oricaZBackground As ncrted above, ethnic factionatism in Madagascar may impede therapeutics. In tlzis region of Madagascar, tension exists between Sakalava and non-Sakafava migrants; this tension is historically based. The majority of Madagascar" population of ayprc>ximatefyten million consists of Malagasy speakers, of whom the Sakafava form the fifth largest (sub-)ethnic groupj28f. The west coast of the island is considered Sakalava territory, and is defined by a chain of kingdoms, of which the town of Ambanja and its surrotznding countryside comprise the northernmost and most recent of these royal dynasties, Cc3nquest and expansion by Sakafava anci other Malagasy kingdoms lzavr played important rofcs in defining territr>rial distinctions in Madagascar. For Sakalava, the greatest threat has been the Merina kingdom of the central high plateaux which, under the guidance of a succession of rulers in the eighteenth ancl nineteenth centuries, succeeded in controlling much of the isfand. Memories of Merina battles are very mtzch a part of Sakalava historical consciousness today: many trolnbu spirits, for example, were valiant heroes anci heroines of:these wars, either because tl-tey defeated their adversaries in battle or chose suicide over subordination. French ccrlonial policies exawrbated these deeply rooted tensions: fcjllowing their conquest of the island in tlze f890s, the Frencl~Favored tlze Merina and their neiglzbors, the Betsilea, as civil servants. The fclrmer Merina capitat of Antananarivtr {now the national capital of Madagascar) became the colonial center for educaticrnal, political, medical and other major institutions, a trend which continues t o d q Ethnic divisions in Madagascar are ccrmpltex, based on territory, religious affitiation, and a host of other factors [29),The most significant distincdon made is between coastal (ciitier) and high plateaux; in Ambanja this corresponds most often to ethnic distinctions of Sakalava VS* Merina (and, by extension, Betsileo). Throughout the northwest, the French alienated fertile lands from indigenous Sakafava in order to make way fc~rlarge-scale plantations, W ~ e Sakalava n rehsed to work as wage laborers for foreign-born pltanters, migrant labor was brought in from other parts of the island, This is a trend that began in the 1920s; today the town of: Ambanja is a multiethnic cammunity where Sakalava camprise approx. 50% of the prryulatic~n,while migrants from less prosperous regions flcrck ""to seek their fortunes" "Chltallly harena), settling temporarity or permanently in this lush plantation region. Parallels can be drawn between etlzntc affiliation anci ecanomic specialization: for example, Sakalava are generally small-scale planters, merchants and iocaf government officials; migrants from the south and souti~east

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(e.g. Antandroy, Antaimorcl and Antaisaka) make up the majority of manual laborers; while the Merina and Betsifeo define a visible contingent of the local edrtcated elite, serving as school teachers, agricultural agents, plantation directors, and, most important for this study, doctors and prcttestant pastors. Sakalava are very sensitive ta what they percehe as a constant and increasing encroachment on their lands by non-Sakalam migrants, and they are especially resenthf of Merina dominance of yarticufarly powerhi positions in the community, The fact that Rotespants and psycl~iatristsare strangers and migrants creates an interesting dynamic in the context of therapy. The majority. of patients (with their kin) seek out their assistance only as a last resort, yet for some their therapies offer a way to escape otherwise unavoidable problems that accompany possession, espetrornha spirits. In order to understand hew this occurs, it is imporcially invctlvi~~g tant first to outline h t ~ wtmrnba and madness are defined and experienced,

bssessisn and Madness as Xndigenaus Categories

Throughout Madagascar, ancestors are important actors in everyday affairsj30). While they may be troublesome and demanding, they are respected for their kntdedge and their ability to intercede in the e x n t s which shape elieryday life. For the Sakalava, rctyalty are the key actors for clcrflective experience. By exknsion, tromba, as the spirits of royd dead, are pivotal in defining Sakalava historical experience and contemporary notions of: ethnic identity. Trornba spirits interact with the living throtzgh mediums, the majority of whom are adult women, serving as cttunselXors to living royalty and as healiers for cttmmon folk, %mbu possession is not an option tlzat one cl~ooses.Ratl~el;trclmba spirits seek out and select their mediu:ns with care, Trornba possession is generally preceded by a host of chronic health problems, for which the afflicted is unable to obtain a cure from either local indigenous healers or clinicians, Typical symptoms inclucie: frequent headaches, dkiness, fatigue, or soreness in the limbs, neck, or back. It is only ~tvertime that trombct possession is suspected, and only after alf other attempts to end these problems lzave f-ailed. Eventualfy kin or friends may suggest to the afflicted that trarnba is the cause, a diagnosis that is ccrnrirmed by a skilled tromhtl medium. Tromba mediums and other healers will noutfy to drive the spirit from her; instead, she is expected to t~nciergoan elaborate and expensive series of ceremonies designed to instate the spirit permanently within her. If she continues to resist possession, the spirit may cause her further harm, which might include possession sichess, caused by lesser malicious spirits or, in more extreme (and drawn out) cases, madness. As a medium she may fall ilt periodically, a victim of the whims of a capricious or angry spirit that moves in and out of her, and again healers will offer suggestions on how to appease the trurnbu. Most ofien. her sickness is a result ttf her resisting the spirit" desires. In so doing, the spirit makes her ill; if seriously angered, it might cause her serious harm.

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Tromha possession is a common experience of adult wctmen: in 1987, the year during which this researcl1 was conciucted, rougl~lyf 0% of adrtlt women living in Ambanja (with a population of approx. 27,000) w r e pc~ssessedby trarnha spirits, The onset of mediumship most often begins around age f X or 20, Once a woman becomes a trclmbu meciium she may clloose to embark on a lifetime career as a healer, drawing strength and power from her trarnba spirit. Over time, other syirits will join her repertoire, each spirit's age relative prestige increasing as the medium ages. W ~ e asked n about pc~ssession,all mediums say that it causes them great suffering CrnEpaly &!). Nevertheless, tromba possession has its advantages, which accounts in part for the high prevalence of mediumship among adrtlt women. For example, skilled mediums may build a lucrative business as healers, which frees them from the time ccrnstrahts-as we11 as the physical and emotional trials-of plantation wage labor. In addition, non-Sakaiarsa female migrants may become involved in trclmbu possession through a tong process of social acceptance anci acculturation. A form of Ectix kinship assctciated with mediumship enables these Mromen to join supportive, cooperative groups of other wctmen, Furtlzermore, as meciiums for Sakalava spirits, their identities are transformed from that of outsider (migrant) to insider (Sakalava) 1291. Nevertheless, there is a minority of women who later choose to opt out of mediumship, An important aspect of tromba possession is tllat it is permanent. From a Sakalava perspective, a medium mtzst accept the suffiering as part of her fate, but a few find this suffering and associated hardships to be intolerable, Psychiatrists and exorcists offer a medium the only options that enable lzer to be freed of her spirits, 3% accomplish this, however, she must undergo a change in her attitudes and beliefs about r o p l ancestors; this runs contrary ta indigenous respect for and fear of the dead. Exorcists require tlze greatest cl~angein attitudes ancl beliefs: as Protestants they expect their cfients to convert and embrace a wctrld view that runs contrary to that of their own cuiture, itladness anJ Possession Sickness

Trc~mbapossession and madness are regaded as distinct categories of experience that occupy opposite poles on a continuum, yet which c~verlapsomewhat in their causation, symptrtmatology, and treatment, When mediums and other infctrmants in Ambanja describe possession, they sometimes compare it to madness (adala, adalqrza; also, rrlamry saina, very saina, ""sick""or ""lost mind"") According to Sakalarsa informants, possession and madness define a spectrum of symptoms where severity is an important distinction. Madness is a general illness category defined very broadly by deviant forms of behavior, Although it may sometimes be confused with possession sickness (especially at onset, see below), it is a distinct category because it is viewecl as an extreme state of being. m e n asked for exampies of madness, infcjrmants living in Ambanja always spoke of two individuals: one was a man who wctre women's

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TABLE 9, l

Characteristics of Possession and Madness (Sakalava i~rtexpretations)

Trotnbir

Possession sz'ckrtess

Mtzdness

Controlled: medirrm enkrd exits trance at wifl

UrlcontroiIed: fits of possessicln

t;mcontrotled: victim does not have firs but experiences corrstant state of being, characterized by socially unacceprable behavior

Caused by a spirit that is identifible (it has a name, distinct personaf ity, dress, etc.)

Unidenitifed, generic spirit that has no narne

May be caused by a spirit,

Co~xxnunicatiunis possible: One can have a dialogue with the spirit as if it were a living human being

Commurlicatiun is possible but difficrrlr: Spirit is usually angry and uncooperative; the victim's speech is fragmented

Communiatiots.is very difficult, if not imgossihie: %ctirns often make no sense when they speak

krma~lent: Medium has her spirit.t(s)for life

Temporary and dangerous sick~ess;she must he cured or will risk further Ilarm.

Possibty permanent, dangerous form of sickness: It is very di@crxlt, if not Impossible, to cure

Uangemus, bad

Ua~lgerous,bad

but the spirit does not possess the victirn

clothing and who carried a stick, which he wotzld swing at yassersby; the second was a woman who, even though she had kin in tclwn, preferred to sleep outside and eat out of garbage heaps, The significance of the breaking of social norms i x t tabeling rlze mad is evident in rlze manner in which rlze diminutive term udaladufa is applied. This terrn is used, in a teasing way to descrik anyone who acts odd or silly. To caft someone u b t a , on the other hand, implies they are seriously ill, ancl rlzelrefore the terrn is nat used lightly. The overlapwand oppositions between trurnba yc->ssessionand madness becttme clear through an analysis of a third category: possession sickness 133 ].This rakes several forms, and it is caused by various generic categories of evil, reckless, and uncontrolfable spirits who give each form of sickness its name [njarinints).; masoarrtoku, jiny and shay-t~aan).Sakafava view these categories as being simultaneausty f o m s of spirit possession and sickness (marary),collectively occupying a position sc-tmewhere between tromba and madness, Contrasts between these terms-tromba, possession sickness, and madness-clarif the definitions of each (Table 9.1). m i l e madness may affect anyone, possession sickness and trarnba are primarily female experiences. Tromba is common among adult:women 18 years or otder; rlze most common victims of possession sickness are adolescent girls who may later become trc~rnhu,mediums. The possession experience is quite different for each h r m , Tramha possession involves well-known historical personalities. It is

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distinct in that it is an accepted experience, inrrofving periodic changes in personality, dress, etc., which occur as tlze meclium moves in and out of trance. l3ossession sichess, on the other hand, invc~llresgeneric categories of evil spirits that have no personat names, They do not h r m part of the tromba spirit hierarchy, altlzough they are sometimes said to be the " c h i l d ~ nof tromEta'"(tsuikl/ rzy trclmba), and may be sent by an angry tromba spirit to harm the victim. Evil spirits, like trntnbn spirits, possess and control the bodies of their victims, Unlike trombu, lzowever, possession sichess is a temporary state that is regadcd as a special form of illness that ceases when the spirits are driven from the victim. During these fits the victim may be described as being temporarily mad, suffering from a ""sick minci'kr ""sick spirit" "(~f"lamry sairta). Since possession sickness invc~lvesperiodic bouts of bizarre and outrageous behavior, it is not as sexre as madness, which is constant and often permanent. If possession siclmess grres untreated, however, or if cures are ineffective, the victim may be relabeled as suffering from madness. Madness is not considerecl to be the result OC a spirit inhhiting the victim" body; instead, it is caused by the external actions of an angry spirit, Tromba spirits are sacred (masz'nu) and good (aura); in contrast, possession sichess and madness are dangerous anci bad (rat% rutsy). Tromba spirits may periodicafty cause harm to a medium-making her sick if they are angry, for example-yet they are generally regarded as powerful and beneficial entities who look aAer the medirxm, lzer kin and her clients. kssession sichess, on tlze other hand, is viewed as extremely dangerous and the menacing spirit(s) must be driven from the victim, The afflicted sufkrs from sudden firs of possession, when she may weep uncantrolably slzotlt obscenities, attack p e o p l u r wander aimlessly through the streets, Her behavior is odd and frightening, yet temporary. When the fit ends, the victim acts normally Similar to a tromba medium when she exits trance, the victim of possession sickness does not remember what happened during her fit, Madness is characterizd by a ccrnstant state of confusion. A final issue that distinguishes these categories is communication. Since trclmbu spirits have ixzdiv-vidualpersonalities, one can canverse with tlzem through their meditzms%odies. This is a key aspect of healing constzltations that take place between possessed mediums and their clients. Evil spirits, on the other hancl, generally only speak in fragmented language composed primarily of angry outbursts and cursing. The language of the mad defines a polar extreme: they speak nonsense, Protestant Perspectives on Spirit. Possession Ambanja, as a large town, is a religious center for Catholics, M~zslirnsand Protestants. Tb a large extent the membership of these faiths is defined by the ethnic and geographical divisions that exist in iMadagascar. The majrtrity of Sakafava betong to no church (tsy mivavaku; ""don'tpray'"; those who do are eitl~erCatholic or Muslim, Rarely are they Protestant; instead, Sakalava generally define thernselves in opposition to those other ethnic groups whose members are, Since it is

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the Protestants who specialize in exorcism in Madagascar, they will he the primary focus of this discussi~n,I will otltline only brieRy the orientations of Catholics and Muslims in order to highlight the manner in which they ccrmplement Proestant atdtudes and therapies.

The concept of: elacultumtiola has been central to Catlzolic attitudes and practices since Vatican 11; in Ambanja this is characterized by a l'aksez-fmire attitude ttrwards possession, Although the Catholic Church does not: openly condone tromba possession, it does not prohibit it, as do the Protestants. Among Ambanjak Cathcrlics, local Sakalava customs are a subject of intellectual interest. Several Sakalava clergy have written their theses in France on Sakalava religion, with a special emphasis on tromba 132, 331. Several others living in Amhanja have been invited by their Sakalava parishioners to witness trornba ceremonies. The majority of mediums I interviewed over the course of a year w r e Catholic, and many sent their children to the local mission schoaf, Some mediums say that a few of their spirits are Catholic as well. m i l e all Catholic priests are trained to ccrnduct exc>rcisms,those in Ambanja do not exercise this skill, Instead, serious cases that arise within the diocese are referred to a Catlzolic exorcist who lives in a remote town on the east caast of:the island. This rarefy crccurs, hrrwexr. As one Italian priest put it, "It is a matter of faith . . if a w m a n comes to me and says that she is troubled by spirits, I encourage her to pray with me, because this seems to Izefy.'7n those cases where a parishioner ccrntinues to seek assistance from her priest, she may be told to go tcr the Protestants to be exorcized, and then return to her own church to pray (see tlze case of Vivienne, below). Most Muslims in Ambanja, like Catholics, are tolerant of possession actkities. This is due in part to the fact that men are most active in Islam in Ambanja; in other words, few members would be mediums, Although all mosques have an area or separate building set aside for women to pray, rarely do more than ten w m e n attend on a regufar basis during Friday prayer. Spirit possession is also common cross-culturally within the cantext of Sunni Islam, which recognizes the prrssibility of prrssession by Jinn 12, 34-36], Among the Muslims of Ambanja, trombct and other Sakafava spirits are relabeled as such, being caXfedjiuty (jz'ntr)or Jevnky (devils, demons). Some Muslim men have wives who are trombu meciitzms, and many Muslims in Ambanja consult spirit mediums, herbalists, and other indigenous healers when they are ill. Excrrclsms are occasionally held at mosques to drive out spirits from tlze possessed, but more often adhe~rentssee no conflict betwen possession activities and fstarn. The few who seek to have Jz'ny excrrcized tend to be men and not women. Xn such cases it is the priest or forrdy (also rekrred to sometimes as tlze mwalimo, from kiSwahili rn~v~tz'mu) who performs the excrrcism. This generally invc3lves the burning of incense and group prayer at the mosque, There is one refcjrmist group that is strongly opposed to

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possession and performs excrrcisms; their techniques parallel those employed by Protestants,

The Prutestarzt Exorcists Nearly all sects of Protestantism in Madagascar ccrnduct exc>rcisms;some have special curi~igretreats where exorcists work fuI1 time, Two of the mast active gmups are the Lutherans and tlze Ff k V (fiongona~zufeso,c3~Kristz'u~zy Malapsy or the Mafagasy Church of Jesus Christ). The exorcist mowment and its associated specialists are referred to asfifohazana ("awakening': 'kevivaI"fircrm the verb mifoha, "to o~rake':"to arisef') or rnphrzdry (""szeylzerds"") In this study X am speciecally interested in activities related to spirit possession, and so I will refer to them here as exurckts. Since Satan (Satany)and devils (devoly) are viewed as the major causes of misfortune, the exorcist" goaf is to drive evil spirits out of the bodies of tlzeir victims. Most often sickness befalls humans because they lzave no faith in Tesus (Jesosy). (For an interesting alternative from Brazil see Greenfield 1261.) Exorcists form a special branch of their church, and they have rraived special training as healers, The majority are Malagasy, and tlzey include pastors, evangefists and parishioners. They are male and female, and they ccrme from a wide variety of backgrounds, including peasants and educated professionals. Ethnic affi'f-xliatioa reflects the geographical distribution of Protestant missionary activities throughout the island: typically they are from the high plateaux (Merina and Betsileo); the south (Antandroy, Antaisaka, and Antairnoro); or are Birnehety from tlze west anci nortlz. Rarely are they Sakalava (or their nortlzern neigl~bors,the Antakarana). In Ambanja, a number of churches hold exc>rcismceremonies on a regular basis, The FJKM cllurch, which is by far the largest Protestant church in town, is most actively involved in this, anci has more than a dozen trained syeciafists, Others include the Lutheran church and a smaff Ijentaatstal group that calls itself the Fifcthazana Church and whicfiroke off from the FfKM over a decade ago. Each church has its own proyhet(s) from whcrm its excrrcists gain inspiration and guidance. According to FJKM records, the fifahazana movement began in the 1880s in the lzigh plateaux. XI was started by a Betsileo man named Rainisoalambo, a diviner (rnpkikiljy) whcr suffered from sexre skin probfems that no one was able to cure, He bad a dream in which he was told to stop his work and go to the church. The next day he threw away lzis medicines and went tlzere wit11 his children. Eventually he built his cmn church in Ssatanana, near the high plateaux city of Fianarantsoa, where he began to heal others, Soatanana is nctw a major center for fifohazana traitling and lzealing activities for numerous churches [37--39j. lPJhile each church has its own prophets, the Lmtherans pride tbemsetves on having the only living prctyhet, who i s named Nentlava ("Talt. Mother"') Menilava is Arrtairnaro from the southeast and is the daughter of an herbalist (ornbiasy). When she was ycrung, Nenilava converted to Christianity, joining the Lutheran church. Her visions and wisdom concerning the teachings of Christ

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have led her to become an important figure in the Lutheran church throughout her aduftlzood [ 391. The dothing worn and techniques used during exc~rcismsessions are fairly standardked among all Protespant groups. M e n exc~rcistswork tl-rey wear clothes that reflect a blendil-tg of Calvixzist dress of over a hunclred years ago, combined witl-t high plateaux styles 140). Exorcists always dress in white and keep their bodies well ct~vered,Men generally wear long-sfeeved shirts and long pants, while women wear tong-sleeved blouses and ankrte-lengtl-t skirts. Sometimes exorcists (bath men and women) w a r long white robes. These have puffy sleeves, and dog-eared collars that are tied close to the throat. Many also wear b u l b white shawls, a style of clothing worn by tl-te Merina. m e n tl-teywork they wear wixnptes on their Izeads. The efaborateness of dress and the quality of their clothes often reflect the amount of money available in the church"^ treasury fbr exc~rcismactivities. While they generatly only put on these clothes during exorcisms, in certai~zsects they are Mrorn a~ everyday dress, so that exorcists stand out in public, Some exorcists work part-time, assisting in healillg sessions that occur on Sundays after regular services; fbr others it is a full-time occupation. Many have become exorcists after they were or someone close to them was healed. Exorcists treat all forms of iUness, including plzpicd ailments such as lameness, bfindness and headaches; troubled thoughts and restlessness; madness; and possession, Satan and devils cause all. h r m s of iflness ancl suffering, and the exorcist heals by drking them out of their victims through the laying on of hands (fametrahantarrarza) and through prayer (vavaka).They derive their strength and power from tlze Holy Glzost ( n yFarzahy Masir-tu).In the Lutheran church, exorcism is referred to as "work and empt>wermentH((asa syf-ampaheresana). ExcIrcists prefer to work in groups of three, reflecting the power of the Trinity. Groups of other sizes are acceptable, but tlzey slzoufd avoid working alone. As one exorcist put it, ""when you work alone you may think that the pclwer is in yotz, forgetting that it is derived from the Hoty Spirit . . . if you are too prctud you might faEl in p u r work." Exorcisms occur frequently in Ambanja: over the course of a year, I witnessed apprc>ximatelya di~zenex(>rcisms,and I heard of over 20 others. Five of the sessions that X witnessed toolc place at the Lutheran church where X rented a house, where one of the pastors (my Iancllord) was trained as an exorcist. The purpose of these healing sessions is to cure speciffc ills as well as to ensure generaf well-being in the congregation. Some churches scheduIe sessions on a regular basis, such as on the first Sunday of each month. Private, intensive sessions are arranged for those who suffer from seriorzs problems, Exi~rcistsalso work in their own homes, treating themselves and members of their households, o r they may be called into a patient's home to work. Some individuals come alone seeking help, but most often they are accompanied by kin. The majority of their patients are wcjmen (30 or otder) who wish to rid themselves of rromba; adolescent girls who are plaguecl by possession sickness; and men ancl women whom kin have labeled as mentally ill (adata). Serious problems such as pclssession can not be cured in one sessiczn but require a series of visits to insure that the

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spirits have left permanently*If the patient is nett a Protestant he or she is also expected to convert ancl become a regular member of the cllurch.

Exr>rcismsessions are etectrieing, cathartic events which are ebausting for the ex~rrcistand patient, and which can be kightening for young children and the uninitiated. X n addition to havhg the exorcists and their patiet~tspresent, parishioners are enccrtzraged to attend so that they may assist by praying and singing thrrrtzghcrtzt the ses?;lon.There are several reasons for this. First, prayers and hymns are ilnbued with the power of the Wc~rdof God. Second, since spirits enjoy music, the singing of hymns helps draw them out of their victims, Third, by participating in these sessions other parishioners serve as witnesses of God's work. These sessions have several stages. If the exordsts are nett in their robes, they will don the proper attire before they begin their work (ofien this is clone with great ceremony at the front of the church). All church services begin with the siz-zging of hymns, and this is atso true ftor exorcisms. The session then commences with readings from tlze Bible, especially from Mark fC;:15-f8 and Jolzn 20:21-23. These are passages which speak of' casting out demons, laying on of hands, and the healing p o w r s of the Holy Spirit. Exorcists may read other passages that refer specifically to tlze problems of those who have came to be cured. Those who wish to be healed are asked to fcnrm small groups at the front of the church and sit on a mat on the ground. Amid the singing, the exorcists Iay their hands upon patients?heads and pray quietly for their health and well-being. Otlzers with more serious problems are then called before the congregation and are healed separately The tenor of sessions directed at lzefying more serious cases is very different, especially when possession is the cause of the problem. During sessions for tromba possession, for example, the spirit is reidentified as a demon or as Satan. X t must be encouraged to come forth so that it may then be driven from the body of its victim, This is in essence a variation on the events that take place at a tromba ceremony, where the spirit arrives by possessing the medium, announces its name and converses with the audience. a l i k e a trclmbu initiation, which is a jc>yfulevent, an extrrcism is a frightening and very vt3latile situation, because the spirit quickly becomes angry when confronted by the exorcists, If there are several exorcists present, tlzey divide preferably into gmuys of three anci work together with each patient; periodically they change places, rotating from one patient to anather. In this waly the intensity of the healing power directed at each person is gl-eat anci varied, As parishioners sing, the exorcists slzout at the spirits in the imperative, a verb form which in most cases is used in Malagasy only to address naughty children, anirnats [4X ], and demons: "get out!" "ovuku!), "get out in tlze name of Jesus!" "tmivoku atnin51y ianum~zulesosy!). As the session progresses, the language beccrmes more p<>werfuland the vcrlurne increases, as exrjrcists shout their orders and parishioners sing Xouder and

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more intensely. It is at this point that the spirit generally arrives. The patient may begin to curse, wail loudly, scream or sob. Possessed patients tlsually collapse periodically on the grotznd, at which pcrint the exorcist orders them to ""get up!" (mqoha!).The exorcist speaks directly to the spirit, encouraging it to engage in a dialogue. He asks, ""Wlzo are you!? Why have you possessed this person!? Wzat do ysru want!" and, in hearing the answers, he shouts back such expletives as, ""get out! get out you devil!" boka! voku devaty!) or ""g back to the desert from whence you came!'' "(huleha mmin'ny tany karakai~a!).These sessions can be violent, not only because the patient may fail or thrash about, but becatzse the exorcist, in wrestling with the spirit, may push at or tug on the patient" lbody, Sometimes an exorcist repeatedly puslzes a patient to the grouncl ancl then orders the patient to ""get up! rise up in the name of Tesus!" Acccrrding ttr 'I'reder 1391, a decade ago exc~rcistsstruck their patients, and in three repcrrted cases the patient died, More recently, however, exorcists have become more restrained in their actions, ( X never witnessed this level of violence.) Eventually the wailing will stop, and the patient will regain consciousness, feeling exhausted. The hymns become quieteq and the session will end with a prayer blessing afl who are present. This session will be followed by at least one more session, generdly later that week, to insure that the spirit has left for gcrod. One unusual case that I Mritnessed involved three members of a nuclear family amposed of a father, mother and 13-year-old son. It was the mother who originally requested to lzave a tromba exorcizd, but soon it was clear that the father, too, had a spirit, Each time the father" spirit was driven from him it m u t d then move into the body of his wife a r son, so that each person in turn had ta lzave this spirit exorcized, This requirecl several weeks of intensive m r k , invcrfving six exc~rcistswho workd with the patients two or three times each week, Foilowing a session such as this, the exorcists, pastor or otl~ermembers of the congregation visit patients in their homes to make sure they are weff and tcr enmurage them to return and join the church as permanent members. Patients are also ctxpected to return to the church for Bible study and ptdyeL XF a patient lzad a tromba spirit, slze will be instrtlcted ta bring all of the spirit's paraphernalia to the &arch so that it can be btzrned or erthewise destroyed,

The Rby: Protestant Curirtg Retreats A number of Protestant churches have centers for faith healing which are called

toEty (lit, ""cmp"")nd whiclz I will refer to as ""clring retreats': The Llxtherans are most famous for this, having established a large retreat and hosy ital in the southern plateaux at Soatanana near the city of Fianarantsoa, In response to high demand, in 1987 they built a new hospital in a suburb of tlze capital city af Antananarivo near the mother church. Many patients ccrme to the Lutherans seeking the guidance of the Prophet Nenilarsa, who moves back and forth b e ~ e e nthese two centers. Other smaller retl-eats are located throughout the island, Patients and exc>rcistslive full-time at these retreats. Curing activities focus ern the laying on of hands and intensive prayer sessions. Sometimes the kin of scrme-

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one who is I11 will come to the retreat to request that excjrcists accompany them home. A group of them (again, preferably three) will join tlze houselzold temporarily to watch ctver and heal the sick person, and racrm and t-rctard is provided as payment for their services, The bonds that devetop between the ctxorcists and tlze patient's kin can be strong; it i s not uncommon that an exorcist later marries someone from the patient" household. There are three FJKM curing retreats near Ambanja, One of these was established in 1986 and lies 8 km from the town (and l km oMthe main road). The ectzmenical nature of the work of Protestant excrrcists is reflected by the &ict that although aXt those living at the retreat are members of the FJKM church, the deacon (iraka), who moves between the three retreats, is an Anglican from the south. The FJKM church has also sought to combine efforts with other churches tc>establish another center in Ambanja. The land for the retreat closest tc>Ambanja was donated by a local planter, The retreat occupies one-third of a small village (which has a topal population of about two hundred yeaptc). It is composed of a large open area abcrut the size of a soccer field, surrotznded by numerous structures, including an outdoor kitchen and shaded eating space; an unfinished (raofless) cl~urclz;a long rectangular building tlzat has four apartments that house the exc>rcists;and three small, ~ c r - r o o mhouses that are for patients and their kin, The church is constructed of mncrete; all other buildings are modest structures made from trayeller's palm (Ravet.rata mu~~agascarielasis). The full-time residents of the retreat include K adult exc>rcists(4 men and 4 Mromen, including 2 married couples), and about a BWYXYI children. At any one d ~ n e there are 3-5 patienb living there who are t~suaflyaccompanied by one or two of their kin (e.g. spouse,sibling, parents). Exctrcists are generally from the high plateaux and south, while villagers are Sakalava and offspring of migrants from the south, Patients are of diverse bactcgmlrnds and inclt~defairly equal proportions of local Sakalava and migrants. FlanltRzing the settlement on one side are fields, where the exorcists grctw rice, maize, maniac m d greens. On the other are the dwellings of the villagers, a Catl~oliccllurch, a schaofholrse and a ylnying field, Excrrcists charge no fees for their services. They live solely off dcrnations and the bit of food they can eke out of the iand. Patients are ctxpected to cover their own expenses, so kin who accompany them are responsible for looking after them and matiing sure they have clean clothing and food to eat, Over the past few years most of the patients at this and the t w other retreats have been adults. They suffer from tlze folowing problems: the majority (male ancl female) are mentally ill (ad~ltla); the s e a ~ n dlargest group ccrnsists of single m m e n whcj are suffering from tromha and other fcrrms of possession; there are also those who are crippled (kateurry); and, finally, those with more general ailments, the most common being skin problems, Almost all patients are those whcr previously sought help from indigenctus heaters but who found no cure, Some patients may stay for months, whife others have remained for years. Treatment takes several forms. First, one prays (rrzivavaka) three times a day, since prayer weakens the DeviX. Second, laying on of hands v~matmrrtarrana) oc-

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curs twice a week, There is also a strong stress placed on the importance of work, and so patients tabor in the ktchen, fields and elsewl~ere,tlze amount being determined by their individual abilities and strengths. m e n one Sakalava villager was asked to describe the exorcists, she said ""they work very, very hard" "(mlasa mafibe izy). The curing retreat is a small, ccrhesive ccrmmunity. Fictive kinship defines social relations among ctxorcists and patients, The pastor and deacttn are referred to as 'Tather'"(pmpa or buba).,wl~ileexorcists refer to eaclz otl~eras siblings [29, Chap, 41, and expect patients and their kin to address them in this manner as wIX, Each exordst is ~ s y o n s i b l for e several patients, who in turn have three exorcists asstgneci to tl-tem. m e n I visited the retl-eat outside Ambanja in AyriX, 1987, there were five patients there: two Sakalava women who suffered from trc~rnba possession; a yotzng Antakarana man whc~rnI wilt refer to as Elysk who was said to he made f see below); a young Antairnorct bcty, about age 10, who appeared to be mentally.handicappeci (as one exorcist said, ""when he first came here he didn't even know hc~wto use silveware"'); and a man in his late thirties from the Comoro Islands who was diagnosed as mentally it1 (murary slar'nu), who sat and talked to lzirnself 1421. Three times a year the FJKM exc~rcistshrrld reunions, the location rotating between this retreat near Ambanfa and two others elsewhere in northern Madagascar. One of my field assistants (H.T.) observed one during Pentecost, which lasted for two days. During the day, time was spent praying and singing hymns or working in the compound, and a feast was held where meat was served, This was a luxury that the exorcists at this retreat could itf afford: since they receive little if any money from the mother church, their daily diet generally consists of a meagre dish of boiled manioc and bananas, often with no rice (the staple food thrctugl.1out much of Madagascar). In all, 695 peaptc attended. This official head count included 10 patients (5 from other retreats) and 70 exc~rcists,while the rest ccrnsisted of novices training to be exorcists, family members of patients, and cttngregation members, inclr~dingthose who lzad come for first communtan. Tl~raugboutthe night the exorcists healed through the laying on of l~ands.The people were split into two grctups, so that the majoriq stayed outside, while the 10 patients were taken alone to a separate location inside one of' tlze structures, One of the exc~rcistsexptained that they were cured separately from the others because it can he upsetting to watch the sick, since sometimes Satan can make tlzem act violently. In addition to the 5 patients mentioned above, tlze additional 5 w r e from other retreats and included: 2 men who were mentally ill (marary saina); a wctman with a child who had a severe case of diarrhea; and 3 w m e n possession. who were suffering from frornb~~

Troubled by Spirits: Two Casa The two cases that appear betow provide typical stories of female patients with tromba possession and possession sickness who seek assistance from the exor-

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cists. Pseudonyms are used and some details have been altered to protect the identities of these informants.

Elkabeth. Elisabeth is 42 years otd and born of Sakalava parents. She was raised in a small village nortl~wesrof Ambanja. When she was very young ( S years old) she had already begun to show signs of tromba possession, and by the age of 7 her parents had held a ceremony to instate a fairly powerful, spirit within her, Neighbars were sceptical of this development, finding it difficult to believe that a girl so young could have a trarrlha spirit; nevertheless, she soon had clients wh~rcame from other villages and tctwns seeking her spirit" advice. By the age of 15 she had two other spirits, As Elisabeth put it, mediumship was a difficult experience. For much of her childlzc>c->d she fell sick periodically, suffering from chronic weakness, dizziness and fainting spells, terrible headaches and frequent nightmares. At age 17 Elisabeth convinced her parents to let her go live with her sister in Ambanja, She Exad previously visited the town on many occasions and preferred it to the sleepy village in which she lived. There she took her first lover, a relationship that tasted for 3 years. She later met her huhand, Cllaude, with whom she lived on and off for 12 years. Eventually she grew tired of this relationship; as she put it, all Cfaude wanted was the money she earned as a medium, As in her childhood, she ftrequently kll ill, sometimes unable to geuout of bed for w e k s at a time. This made it extremely difficult for her to carry water, go to market, or care for her two children, especially when her husband was not with her. Twice spirit mediums had diagnosed trombu as the carrse, and she held the appropriate ceremonies to have two additional spirits instated. Each time her healtlz only improved temporarily. She also spent much time and money seeking help from other local healers and dctctors, all to no avail. Xtepeawdl-y she was told by &lends and kin tl-tat her spirits were responsible for lzer bouts of: illness, and she had become frustrated nearly tcr the point of pmkc;unable tcr earn enough to host additional ceremonies to appease her spirits, her health only wrsened, X n 1984, Efisheth"~sister took her on the boat to the offshore island of: Nosy Be, where they sought out the IJrotestant ex(>rcistsat the FJKM church. After several weeks of intense healing sessions (three times a w e k for four weeks), Etisabetlz was finally freed from her spirits, Like the majority of mediums, slze did not recall what took place during these interactions between her spirits and the exorcists, but she described the process as frightening and exhausting f mavozo lnha kajukre aktu), followed by a sense of elation afier each session. She has since converted to this church, and is now among their most highly respected exc~rcists, She lives in Nosy Be, twct blocks from the pastor" house; she has not, howver, visited with lzer kin. since this time. Only her sister comes to see her, since others, especiaffy her parents, are ashamed that Elisabeth keeps the ccrmpany of Merina Protestants, Vivienne, whose story folfc>ws,is a woman whose path crossed my own in many ways throughout f 987, Her older cllassificatory sister is an established

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medium who receives many clients in her home and who was one of my key informants. Another classificatory sister is a woman X knew who lzad her spirit exorcized by Muslim specialists. Early in the year I observed an attempt tco excorcize Vivienne at the Lutheran church in Ambanja; the pastor, who was familiar with Sakalava iflness categories, remembered seeing lzel; and suspected sfze was mentally ill (rrzamry saina) and not possessed. Several months later my assistant met her by chance at the Pentacttstal clelebrat-ion.

Vivienrze, Vivienne ccrmes from a family where many of the women are trornba mediums. The daughter of a Sakalava mother and Tsimehet-y ftather, she is 15years old and she attends junior 1zigX.tscl~oofin a town north of Ambanfa. She was raised by her mother, a Catholic, who died when Vivienne was 12. Her Eather fives in the prcovinciaf capital of Diego-Suarez, and when her mother died her father arranged to have Vivienne five under the care of his brother and his brother" wife, both of whom are members of the FJKLVchurch. Thmugf~outthe summer Vivienne has been living with her aunt (MsSi) in Ambanja. Althc~ughher aunt is not IJrotestant, it is she who Bedded to bring Vivienne to this gathering at the retreat, For one year Vivienne has been very sick, troubled by an evil spirit (~1jaril.zintsy). Her aunt said: ""Sometime she is crazy (adufa g!) , . . ff I ask her to set the table, she puts spoons under the tablecloth; at other times she cooks with hair! . . . She swears (velaveta) ancl she has tried to hit her uncle! Mow sfze lives with m e , . . Sometimes she cries and laughs suddenly-this even happened when she was at school! I took her to the Catholic priest and he told me to take her to tlze Lutherans [around the carrier]. We went tlzere one Sund;ty; but nothing happened. So then f took her tco the FJKM church, Her father" relatives want her tco come and stay here [at the retreat], but Vivienne refirses, saying that she is Catholic and that she has no intention of cl-tangtngher religion.'" Eventuaily Vivienne and her aunt returned and lived at the retreat for four weks, where Vivienne engaged in healing and prayer sessions several times a day. By tl-te end of tlze seconcl week she feit strongedhery) (and, as her aunt and the ext~rcistsnoted, more cooperative), and she began to work in the fields, Three months later she had returned to school. She periodically attends Sunday services at tlze FfKM clzurcb; when her Sakalava school mates tease her about tlzis, she states flatly that she goes for her health and insists she has not converted, Both of these patients suffered from a form of: possession tlzat is typical for female Sakalava of their respective ages; what is unusual about them, howexr, is that they have sought cures through a non-Sakalava institution. Protestant exorcists were able to help each of:them through a serious illness, and this lzas had an effect on their attitudes tc~wardsSakalava vs Protestant responses to possession. Elisabeth, for eexmple, rejected the rote of trombu medium, choosing Protestantism as a means througl-r which to be freed from possession. She went to the ext~rcistshoping tco have her spirits driven from her, because she found her suffering to be intolerable, Vivienne, on the other hand, found relief frttm an especially

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difficuft case of possession sickness, Each was encouraged to conwrt. While Vivienne insists she lzas not done so, visiting only occasionally "for lzer health" Hisabeth did cctnxrt, and has even joined the ranks as a full-fledged exctrcist, something which the non-Sakafava FJKM church elders view as a triumph. As the case of Elisabeth illustrates, seeking tlze assistance of the exordsts may invc>lvemaking a deliberate choice to be freed from an institution-trorrlha yctssessiczn-which in many ways epitomizes what it means to be Sakafava, The same can be said of Vivienne: without the assistance of the exorcists, size, in all likefihood, was destined to be a tromba medium, since possession sickness often yrecedes tromba possession. In turning to the Prcttestant exorcists, each has had to reorder in lzer ow11 mind the meanings associated with the causes of possession, into evil demons, For Elisabeth and others turning potentially benevc3lent tr~~rnha like her, this involves embracing, at least to some extent, Protestantism, either because one must convert to this faith or, at a minimum, have faith. in the power of the exorcists (the tatter being true for Elisabetlr" sister and Vivienne's aunt), Protestantism not rrnly prctvides a potential cure for suffering; it also offers mediums a way to opt out of possession. This is a pattern which has emerged in the Lutheran church where there were three Sakatava who joined the congregation for reasc>ns associated with tromba. The first two were a man in his sixties and a woman in her fifi-ies,each of whom had spirits exorcized anci then jotneci the church. They have since become very active church members, coming by at least once a day to attend to various duties, Both ftelt they had no ties in the local community outside those estabtished through tlze c h ~ ~ r c the h : old man had no offsprit~g,wl~ilethe woman had not spoken to her own children in ten years, even though two lived within 10 km of her house. The third was a p u n g man (20 years old) who joined the church because he was so deeply distressed by the suffering that be saw his mother and exwife endure as trc~rnhkzmediums. In choosing this route, however, all three became, in a sense, less Sakalava, not only because they rdected spirit possession, but also because other Sakafava took disfavorably upon the predominantly nonSakalava Protestants in this tc>wn.Again, this is a theme that is mirrored in Elisabeth's story: all kin but her sister dropped out of touch with her because of her Protestant frliencis from the lzigh plateaux. The third case, which appears below, inwives a seriotzs and yotentiaHy incurable case of madness. X met Elysk at the prcttestant curing retreat. His story illustrates the experiences of patients and their kin as they search for cures, as well as the nature of the treatment they receive from the exc~rcists.Because he had previously received psychiatric treatment at the asylum in the provincial capital, his story will also be an important case for tlze discussion whiclz fo'ollowson psychiatry. When I met Elysk and his parents in April, 19887, they had been living at the retreat for six months. I went to speak to tl~emin their small apartment, where there w s just barely enough rac->mfor three people to lie down and sleep. Elsyk sat and stared out the door while his father answered most of the questions,

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ElysC is Antakarana [the northern neighbctrs and ""cusins" of the Sakafwa), 22 years old, ancl is fror-n a village north of Ambanja. He studied at a university in the south for eight months, but he becarne very sick there and had to come home, At first his parents were nohsue what was wrong with him, We slept mast of the day and was anxious when awake, and he would not eat and did not listen when his parents spoke to him. They decided to take him to the provincial hospital in Uikgo-Suarez, where the doctor told them that he was mentally 111 (marav sainn) and suggested he go to the asylum on the outskirts of town. The psychiatrist tlzere prescribed sc->memedicine which was very expensive and gave them a list of taboo wady) items that he should not consume: alcohol, cigarettes, coffee and hot peppers, Elysk lived there for six weeks while his parents stayed with a classificatory sister of the mrrther. This became very expensive for them and Elysk became frightened and increasingly agitated because he had to live in the company of strangers. They then chose to take Efysk back home, where he jived in the village for approximately four months, There tlzey had enough food to eat since they have fields where they grc3w rice and vegetables. ElysC" smother described his madness as follo~ws:" m e n he is having a crisis he doesn't eat-he withdraws and won? talk to anyone, and tlzis can go on for tlzree or fbur days!" 1 aslced if they had tried other healers, such as r"p.ombamediums or herbalists, but they said the father is an Anglican pastor and as Christians they are prohibited from using traditional medicine (fauzafody-gasy).Eventually a friend of the &ither, who is also an Anglican pastor, suggested that they try taking their son to the exordsts, X asked if the treatments at the retreat had helped at all. His Fdther said, "&S, Ize is getting better, but slc>wly.W e n he has a crisis [the exc~rcists]think it is beause he has brolzen the taboos @dy)-----thathe is eating things he should not, Here he prays three tixnes a day and then he works in t11e fields . . . [but] here it is very hard for tzs, we have five other children who are c~lderthan Elysk, and W, whrr live nearby; come to visit and bring us rice when they can. Here rice is very expensive, half as much more as it is in the market in Ambanja. X must work in other people's coffee and coccra fields for money, and my wife helps others in their hcruses. We alwys need money to buy rice and other hod, nivaquine [for malaria] and aspirin, Since there is no car that goes to Ambanja, it is very hard for us ta trwel to and from this village, We are not sure how much longer we can stay.'"

Psychiatrise and the Spirits Psychiatrists are called tzpon to treat some of the same problems as exc>rcists:madness and possession. Unlike the exc>rcists,h r w x r , they fail to integrate indigenous and clinical (and intrinsically western) conceptualizations with patients\experiences, They do not r e c o g n i ~possession as a valid category of experience, but see it as being a form or symptom of madness. As a result, the therapy they offer is less successful because it is exclusionary. As with exordsts, X wilt discuss the effec-

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tlveness of psychiatric treatments in Madagascar by exploring how these psychiatrists conceptualize their patients' experiences, Their ideas are shaped partly by their cultural background, which is different from that of many of their patients; a more probund influence, however, is their professional training.

Few clinicians specialize in psychiatry in Madagascar, since those who desire advanced medical training must study abroad. In northern Madagascar there is a pubIic asylum located in a remote stretch of countryside on the outskirts of the provincial capital of- Diego-Suarez. As tlze case of Elys6 slzows, patients are referred there from the general hrrsyital in trlwn or from smaller sateflite clinics in rural areas, and generally only after they have consulted a wide variety of indigenous and clinical practitioners. The a,sylum is a small dingy concrete structrrre tlzat has 24 beds located in what are meant to be private roams, although patients sometimes dcruble up. These rooms face out onto a ccrurtyard and beyclnd to the bay; which is approx. I km away, There are separate secticzns for men and wczmen. There is no wall or fence around the lzospi~al,and so patients may wancler freely about the grotznds, or in the fields nearby. Sometimes they take valks to the water, but they usually stay in the courtyard. The asylum is sta&d by five fu'ufl-time nurses (male and female). t>octors spend most of- their time in town at tlze prclvincial hospital, periodically visiting the asylum. There are generally two to three p u n g medical students (st~gz'airesfwho are temporarily assigned to the asylum as part of:tlzeir residency rotation. Like the Protestant retreats, the asylum serves as an isolated center for patients. Unlike the retreats, however, kin are not allowed to stay with patients at the asylum. Instead, they must find other relatives in town with whom they can live, ancl then they make periodic visits to the asylum to deliver focrd and other supplies, As in many public hospitals throughout the Third VIJortd, kin must supply food for patients or make arrangements for someone else to do so. Treatment at the aylum takes several forms. Drugs (mrrstly anti-psychcrtics) are prescribed by the physicians, but these are hard to come by in the local pharmacies, or tl-tey are prohibitively expensive, At the time of my visit, only one patient was receiving drug therapy, and this vas because her brother crwned a pharmacy in tc>wn, Other treatments that are used exhibit a blending of French alIopatl-xicmedicine and nutritional science. They also make superficial use of some Malagasy healing techniques (primarily in referen~etcr diet): as with indigencrus healers and exorcists, here, too, part of a patient3 regimen usually includes prescribed food restrictions or taboos wady). At the asylum, these include stimulants and depressants, such a coffee, tc>bacco,alcohcrl and, in the case of Elysk, above, sometimes hot pepper, An emphasis is also placed on behavior modification, or what would more appropriately be called, perhaps, ""behavior guidance? This involves makng sure that patients are, for example, dressed in a manner that is socially acceptable, withcrut developing it into a structured system of rewards and punishments. Finally, psy-

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chotherapy is considered to be part of the treatment but, like the use of drugs and belzavior modification, this is the exception and not the rulc. Sessions with the psychiatrists are brief and discussions are designed to maintain a reccrrd of how the patient is keling and what has happened recently to them, rather than attempting to delve into the individual"^ unconscious.

My research on psychiatry focused primarily on acquiring data through interviews with keaEtl~prcrfessionals on their attitudes towards possession, X afso made a brief visit to the asylum, spending a day there, What struck me during my visit was that, first, of the 22 patients living there, 18 w r e non-Sakala~a,yet nearly all patients (Sakalava and non-Sakafa~cf.migrants) used Sakalava conceptions of spirit possession as an idiom to express how they subjectively experienced madness, T'romba possession as a label was not applied constantly but was used only at times when the patient felt particularly disoriented, For example, whereas a Sakalava medium would srzy that an angry tromba spirit could make her feel sick, the patients at the hosyilaf would say they Izad a spirit only when tl-tey felt ill. As one womm put it, ""Sometimes I have a trornba and other times f don", lPJhen I am sick, very sick (mararyhe)-tl-tis is ~romba.But today, I am only a little sick (mararirary)and weak (mulery) and so I don't think there is any trornba in me taday.'"irnilarly, the expression ""helshe is craq" (adala izy) and ""helshe h a a trornha" "imzsy trornlia)were used interchangeably. In other words, non-Sakalava patients had adopted the use of Sakalava terminology to describe slates of disorienlation. The same terminolc>gyis employed by ntzrses. When they want to eticit from pa"Eients how they are feeling, they ask how their spirits are treating them rather tlzan resorting to psychiatric labels. A11 but one of the five nurses is from the region (three are Sizkalava), and so they are Eamiliar with trc~rnhaand other forms of possession. This overlapping of Sakalava and psychiatric labels, however, is perceived as a problem by the nurses: they achowledge indigenous beliefs bat they do not necessarily embrace them, As the following words of a nurse illustrate, patients%etiefs about tromba are perceived as a barrier to treatment: The greatest problern f i ~ uss r the medical staff, is that Malagasy [patients] don't beiieve in psychiatric categories. For thenz, these are regarded as prat~lernsof the [their own] spirit [sraz'uru; French: dspriij. Their relatives believe this, and this makes the treatlxent difficult for us. . . The mitjoxity say that they have trombu, esgeciaity when they don" feel well. "fliey may rxot know the identity of the tm?rzfiu,using the term only when they fee1 sick . . . The xnajority have already been to many herbalists f mousy);when they were unabie to Iiely them then they come to the hospital . . .

Psycl-tiatristsoffer a less informecl-and, thus, more extreme-view of the patients' illnesses,. One reason for this is that tlze tlzree doctors associated with the asylum do not have as much contact with patients as do the ntzrses. They spend most of their time atthe provincial hospital in town and they make rounds, once

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or twice a week, to the avtum. Secttnd, since ail three are Merina, they are unfamiliar with and resistant to understanding the relevance of Sakalava nations of possession. Wl~ilethere are Merina forms of possessityn, they are not as ccrmmon as Sakafava ones, and the majoriv of contemporary middle class and elite Merina gmwing up in urban centers lzave never witnessed possession. Attempts to understand trarrlha are further frustrated by inter-ethnic hostilities, For example, Llr Jeanette f a pseudonym), a woman in her forties who has worked at the provincial hospital for ten years, became very it~terestedin tromba because the nurses at the prc>vincialhospital told her that many patients say they suffer from trarrlha and possessicsn sickness. Over the past three years she has sought: to learn more about trclmba and other fc3rms of possession and she lzas even tried to attend ceremonies, but she is barred from them because she is Merina. On the other hand, Llr Anton (again, a pseudonym), who has been associated with the hospital for twct years, stated in an exasperated tone, "they call everything tromba! But I" not sure what that means, since I've never seen real trombu (vrai trornbu)-you know, where people shake and that sort of thing. IJersonally, I just think it" the devil." His attitude reflects one which parallels that of Protestants exorcists. The third psychiatrist was, unfortunately, out of the country in 1987; he has cl-tosen to be trained as an FJKM ex(>rcistas a way to enhance his skils, Following a discussion on possession with Dr Anton, he assembled all the patients tagether and addressed each in turn, askng tl-tern to admit that tl-tey had a mmba. Several were badgered until they said yes, they were victims of some form of possession (generally tromha or possession sickness) and then they were instructed to sir down. Several tixnes the nurses had ta clrsri@for him the meanings of the terms used by patients. W i l e the series of exchanges w s staged and directed by Ur Anton, it seemed, br my benefit, the scene was nevertheless valuable in that it revealed the misunderstandings that arise in the context of psychiatric treatment. The episode throws into high relief the cognitive dissonance b e ~ e e nthe psychiatrist's and patients%pistemoiogies, And although this was an extreme example, the g m v session was represen~ativeof a theme that dominated discussions with clinicians at the asyIum and elsebvhere: their misccrmyrehension and confusion over what gosses?;lon is and what they should do about it. Patients speak fueely of passession to tl-te nurses, who txnderstanci and, txp ta a cer~ainpoint, slzare their beliefs, They do not tell the details of their experiences to the doctors, howver. It is very much a matter of Miho is being addressed f and who is iistening),

Norz-Sakatayu Professicarzuls and I$~tcrkligerztsiu on Possasion

The majority of clinicians working in tlze nortlz are non-Sakafava from the lziglz ptateaux; to ccrmyltement data colfected at the asylum and etsewhere in U i k p Suarez, I also sought out health professionals wctrkling in other northern towns as well as those in tlze higlz plateaux who had worked previousty among Sakalava. Informants consisted of five doctors and fotzr medicaf residents, all of whom were either Merina or Betsileo. I also interviewed five nurses (three Sakalava, two

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non-Sakafava). The common theme expressed by alf was one of utter confusion, A l of the doctors and two of the nurses were torn between stressing the potential efficacy of Malagasy indigenous medicine (fan~fody-gasy) and their fear of it, yet also trying to provide scientific explanations for it. When X asked specifically about trornba my question was always responded to with another question: ""I don't know what f think . . . and you? Do you think tromba e ~ s t s ? " e The most ctrmmon explanation offered for possession was t h a ~ h associated tremors or seizures were the result of malaria, diabetes, or eyitepsy. Anotlzer cornmon suggestion was that it resulted from having too mtzch or too little calcium. As one Sakalarsa nurse said, "kpossession siclcness] is often confused with calcium deficiency. The important thing is to know tlze difference" 3,441. Anatlzer doctor offered the f(nllc>wingexptanation: ""Ido't "tow, maybe it's like shock treatment. Maybe it helps shake a person out of a state of pc->orhealth?" When f asked S hequently among w m e n than men, another doctor wlzy possession C I C C U ~ more he suggested that it is hormonal, and tl-tat women are affected because their menstrual cycles, like trornba ceremonies, ccrincide with phases of the moon. All of these explanations offered by these ciinlcians were accompanied by the statement, ""bt I don't really know>'bncZeach. informant told of stories that they had heard or events they had witnessed invc)lvhg possession and magic Cfataaifady), This provides a sharp contrast to the self-assured confidence of ctxorcistshtatements (as well as tl-tose made by t-ror~buand otl-ter Sakllava hedcrs). As one medical resident said, ""Inever believed in trornba until my aunt (MsSi) became yossessed by a trntnbn white she was living in Ncrsy Be, This tromba spirit has led me to question everything X thought before about possession . . . the spirit says tl-tings about otzr Eamify that my mother herself doesn't how!" Unlike other informants (regardless of background or Xevei of education), doctors were reluctant to participate in this study, As one friend, a doctol; confided, ""They are afraid tl-tey won" be ablte tcr answer yotlr questions, and they don? vant to appear focrlish." Also, doctors ~rorkingin the north are strangers to the region and rarefy see possession, for even know that a patient might be possessecl). Several Fdctors account for tl-tis: some spirits prohibit their victims frc->rngcring to the doctor (some Sakalava say it is taboo for ~ sickness to receive an injection), and rneditlrns in general are a victim C Ipossession reluctant to mention their spirits to doctors for fear of being ostracized. Also, Sakalava-regardless of whether or not they have spirits-avcrid the dinics because they do not want to come into confact with Merina doctors. Discussion:The Logic and Eficaq of Protestant and Psychiatric Treatments The clients of exorcists and psychiatrists are of a wide variety of backgrounds. Wl~ilethe majority are adults, they are male and female, and Sakafava and migrants. One thing which they at1 share in common is that they are desperate. Other healers-indigenous and clinical-lzave failed to eliminate their suffering and relieve their distress. As Csordas 1231 has stressed, an understanding of therapeutic efficacy and outcome hinges on the exploration of procedures (rituals,

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etc.) used by therapists as well as the process (experiences) undergone by patients. A comparison of exorcists and psycl-tiatrists in Madagascar reveals the significance of their approaches and epistemological mrrdels to understanding the therapeutic prcrcess. The mehods used by the exorcist are invasive and require tlze active participation of the patient ancl, if passible, his or her kin, while the psychiatrist" are relatively oblique, and the patient remains fairly passive throughout. The hllowing factors are pertinent to understanding responses in patients: financial and other constraints that affect therapeutic practice; tlze manner in which each system ccryes with competing epistemological realities; and the issue of power in the therapeutic context. T h e Natzare ofthe Tools I?fthe Trade

The methods used and tools required by exordsts and psychiatrists are radically different. In a most basic sense, accessi"olity to these affects therapeutic: efficacy, and psychiatrists are at a distinct disadvantage. Exorcists, like their patients, are poor, yet their therapy is cheap (or free) and thus very practicaf, since they rely on tlze power of the Holy Spirit to heal. The psycl-tiatrist, on the other lzand, as an employee of the State, must @acethe restraints ofwcrrking in an extremely irnp<>verished country where many of the tools for treatment are lacking, Whife drags are, in theory, an important component of therapy, many af those prescribed are tznavailable in the local pharmacies, or are prohibitively expensix. (In the long run, this may be best, given the potential harms associated with and-psychotic drugs,) From the point of view of patients and kin, who associate drugs with biomedical cures, medical therapy fails in the absence of drugs [cf, 45,461. In addition, psychiatrists are frustrated because limited funding means the hospital and asylum are t~nderstaffed,As a result of these Factors, psychiatrists can not practice medicine as they have been trained, and, in turn, they fail to fMlfil the expectations of patients and their kin. The two types of hospitals and the manner in which they are organized offer another important ccrntrast, In severe cases, both exc>rcistsand psychiatrists require that patients live apart from their communities, in the confines of either the curing retreat or the asylum, In tlze Proteseant retreat, patients are accompanied by kin, and are under the constant watchful eye of exorcists. This practice is a familiar one for Malagasy: at home, the seriously ill are never left alone, lying in becl or on a mat on the floor w h e they ~ are surrounded by a constant stream of visitors. Often the room is chclked with kin wh~rhave ccrme to be with and care for the patient, Lilcewise, p"im"f atthe retreats are never Xeft alone, The retreat is simultaneat~slya model Sakalava village and a Christian community, 111 this community, deviant fcjrrns of behavior-such as madness and possession sickness-are tolerated as long as the affiicted recognizes that they are the work of Satan, and, ultimately, if they agree to convert. At the asylum, however>patients live only in the company of other patients, while kin must find housing nearby, and they can only come during visiting hours.

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kdents live in isolation from kin, surrounded by strangers, In his book Placing tltize Dead* M. Bloch I301 refers briefly to a visit he made to a hospital in the lzigh plateaux, where he found that Malagasy patients w r e reluctant to be admitted Mriithout being acmmpanied by many kin, since they feared that strangers might be witches (lnpuwosav) and heart snatchers (lnpuka-fd). Xt is possible, then, tlzat removing patients to the asylum in Diego-Suarez might be detrimental to their mentaI health, The Protestant heafing retreat: is deliberately designed to function as an alternative communiv tl-tat includes kin. As the story of Elys6 illrxstrates, the asylum is a place which isolates the ill frctrn those they trust, placing them in the cornpany of strangers. As a result, the asylum is little more than a prison,

Talxssig has arguecl tlzat patient and doctor may have radically different perceptions of disease and personal discrrder, where medical care may serve as a methctd tc>silence the patient rather than one through which to communicate with and cttmprehend her perceptions of her itinessjil;?]. In the Madagascar context, ultimatefy tlze success or FdiE~lreof tlzeragy hinges on the ability to comprelzend the patients? epistemological realities, Discrepancies are rewafed in the disparate communicative nature of each apprctacb: Protestant and psychiatric therapies offer examples tlzat are diaXogic vs monologic. For the exorcist, the ~~ftimate goal is conversion. As a result, the sharing of ideas is part of the attempt to help the patient redefine his or her reality, and to embrace another belief system. It offers a separate set of explanations for illness and, more generally, for ordering the world. IJrotestant views on possession parallel those shared by their patients. Exorcists dct not deny the existence of the spirits; instead, they reft~srseto distinguish between royal ancl evil spirits, and view all as demons, Exorcists, as zealous Christians, are acutely aware of the intricacies of trornba as a Sakalava institution. They actively seek to undermine the patient's beliefs by simultaneously acknowledging tlze pervasiveness of faboos in trombu and Malagasy culture more generally [ $ B ] , stressing that tromba possessic>n itsetf is taboo. There is much tension here, since conversion to Christianity undermines indigenous cultural logic. An excjrcism is not a bentgt~strategy but rather an earerne approach which lzas significant tlzerapeutic results. This overlapping of ideas and sharing of inhrmafon is not an aspect of psyclziatry in Madagascar. Psychiatrists remain untnfc~rmedof their patients%eliefs; severaf factors acccrunt for this, In the context of the asylum, psychiatrists have less contact with patients than nurses, since their work requires that they spend much of tl-teir time in town at the ~~nderstaffed provincial Izosyital. As nonSakafava, and more specifically Merina, they dcr not fully comprehend the meanings embedded in the statements made about possession by their patients, This social and cultural distance is exacerbated by tlzeir training in clinical meclicine. According to psychiatric definitions, all of their patients suffer from madness ( m a r ~ r saina); y while they treat a wide variety of mental disorders, their prob-

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lems do not cttrrespond with the categories recognized by patients (and exorcists). Altlzouglz patients employ the idiom of passession to express their experiences at times of greatest suffering, only the nurses as a group are aware of this, while dctctors, who are in charge of treatment, remain estranged from this aspect of their patientsyives. Tb quote Taussig, the result involves both a denial of tlze fcgitimacy crf subjective experience and ""the alienation of the patient" self-understanding and capacity" "to articulak the causes of suffering 14-7,p, 81. Perhaps part of:the problem lies in the quality of the training of:tl-xese psychiatrists; but they are also hampered in more culturally specific terms, since the Freudian concept of the unconscious does nett iend itself well to Malagasy w q s of tlzinking. Actions anci perceptions are not tlzought to be affected by one's own hidden thoughts, but are more likely to be interpreted as caused by external forces. For example, dead relatixs enter one's thoughts and dreams by their own volition [cf. 4-91. Also, while dream anafysis is very much a part of Malagasy cuXture (particular events may be interpreted as omens), psychiatry in Madagascar has not integrated this as a form of therapy. In turn, psychiatrists do not tzse terminology "eat is hmitiar to their patients, nctr do they embrace or try to cttmprehend their beliefs. Instead, Mafagasy cultural logic creates a significant contradiction, since psychiatrists do not recogniz the existence of spirits. A patient can not be possessed and healthy sirnuItaneously: possession and madl-xess are one and the same. Instead, a befief in possession is usually reinterpreted as a patient's delusional fantasy, Still, some staff (especially ntzrses) have an acute awareness of the seriousness or the special problems their patients face, For example, those interviewed stressed that several. of their patients were children raised without parents, or that they were migrants far from home. Yet as clinicians (and low status ones at that) they felt impotent, unable to provide solrrtions to these problems. m i l e some patients lzad kin nearby, Family therapy is not a part of psychiatry as it is applid in Madagascar. Thus, while both the exorcist and psychiatrist rely on epistemological models of reality that are of: foreign origin, the psycl-tiatrist's is devoid of any guidelil-tes that allow for the integration of psychiatry with Sakalava betiefs. The psychiatrist is trained in France, and is expected to accept explanations offered by this foreign culture for handling phenomena back Izoxne. Unable to integrate tlzese two conflicting realities, it is doctors who experience the greatest cognitive disscsnanceand, ultimately existential crises-regarding the conff icts b e ~ e e n'"sdendfic" or ""rtianal" and indigenous explanations for possession. Xt might be wise to heed the follcowing words of a Malagasy academic, uttered half in jest: "Why not give a tromba medium an office in the hospital? This might end this debak over scientific, religious, and cosrnofogical explanations for possession ancl madness" "f. 71, The irony is that, in psychiatry in Madagascar, communication is pcror because Malagasy practi"cic,ners accept wllat Gramsci 150) identified as the hegemony of western medical constructs: at times tlzese override their ow1-t cultural values. Medicine displaces indigenous deffnitions, prexnting these two dcrmains from being complementary, as is true with tl-xe Prcttestant approach in Madizgas-

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car, Patients are aware that psychiatrists dct not take their explanaticzns seritzusly: tlzey are not asked if they are possessed, ancl so tlzey do not speak of it, As a result, psychiatrists remain tzninformed of their patients2experiences.

Power arzd Disempovvermerit in rkr ifherapezlricConrat [ 5 X 1 A common argument about medicalizatian, posited first by Zolat52j and more recently applied by antlzroyologists 153-551, is tlzat medicalization empowers the doctor at the expense of the patient. In Zola's words, it works as an "institution of social cttntrat" In anthropojogy, this orientation has led to the rejection of attempts to categorize seemingly non-western categories of illness [56, 57 ], tl-te pursuit being instead the identification of the problems caused by the appltication of medical labels. As Ong 1541 has argued, when health professionals are called in to treat possessed women in factories in Malaysia, their behavior is retabeled as a mental disorder. This process disempowers these women, since medical labels delegitirnize the possession experience as a form of protest or resistance. As with Tarxssigk patient, when the messages embedded within the context of possession are ignored, these women are denied a voice. There is, of course, a crucial difference between the Malaysia and the Madagascar cases. In Ambanja, the possessed and their kin wiXlinglp seek out the psychiatrist (ancl the exorcist), while in Ong's study it is the 6~ctorymanagement that brings them in. Still, in both cases the y ~ h i a t r i s denies t the legitimacy of the patient" point of view, At the asylum, treatments and explanations are the clinician's private domain, Patients are not actively involved in the tl-terapeutic process. They are in a stagnant state, sitting together and smoking, or pacing the grounds. Nor dct they master the terminology used by the psychiatrist, They are not privy to the diagnostic interpretations of their experiences, They remain passive and tzninformed within this therapeutic context. Protestant heafing is quite different: a strong work ethic dominates the healing prctcess, Patients are expected to help in tlze fields and participate in clzurch community activities, for example. As converts, they must also embrace the terminotofcrremployed by the exctrcists to ctxpfain their suffering. What is unusual about this comparison between medicine and religion in Madagascar is tlzat here psycl-tiatric approaches are disempc~wringbecause they are rnisdireded This leads to therapeutic failure. In this case, it is, ufGmately, the docmr who is dkempawered In contrast, Protestant exorcisms emphasize themes of power, dominance ancl change. Exctrcisms, for examplte, are referred to as "wctrk and empowrment" (asa syfampaheresana), A key requirement in this healing process is the redefix-tition of tlze patient's identity. Exorcists seek to undermine the patient's belief system and replace it with a new one. She is expected to ccznxrt through the cczurse of treatment, For a Sakaiarsa w m a n this is a very dramatic shift, since it requires that she embrace beliefs and belzaviors that run contrary to lzer culture. Exorcists use severag strategies to accomplish this goat. In contrast to Catholic tolerance of Sakalava traditions ffombag~sy),the Protestant churches of Madagascar have al-

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ways made very conscious and deliberate attempts to define their doctrines in reference-anc2 in opposition-to them [3C3]. They require that reformec2 spirit mediums, frzr example, bring their spiritsbyarayhernafia to the chtzrch so that they may be destroyed, In so doing the exc3rcists illustrate that their power for, more appropriately, that of God) is greater than the power of the rrclmba spirits, This action is also designed to erase all memory of trombu"sxistence in the medium" life, This nation of:pawer is pivotal to the process of restructuring or redefining the patient" identity, and it is acu3mplished through a remaking of the symbolic order, This is especially evident in the style of interacticrn that occurs during exorcism sessions, w h e the ~ exorcist anc2 the patient assume dominant and submissive positions. The patient kneels or sits on the ground before the exc~rcist,who stands. Thrc>ughoutthe session, the exr~rcistperiodically places his or her hand or the Bible on the patient" head, In this way the exordst" actions are a direct vtolation of Malagasy rules of status etiquette. The head is sacred and should not be tc>uched,and only elders and rcyalty may raise their heads abc~veothers, Thus, the patient, in accrept-ingthe exorcist's treatment, submits to Proestant authority. Onfy after the patient joins the christian community is the refattonship between the patient and the exc~rcistredeffned as egalitarian. As is true of tromba possession 129, Chap, 73, this association is defined by fictive kinship-in this case, tlzrough christian principles. At the lzealing retreats, all individuals who embrace Christianity are defined as ""brothers" and "sisters" af each other, and all are children before God, the Father. In this way>through exorcism rituals patients break from Sakalava structural relatioaslzips to new3christian ones, As 13apyas argues, "Power cuts two vav: it bc~thccrnstrahs and enables" "j2 p. 2001. Here, unlike the clinical setting, bath exorcist and patient are empowered,

While conversion may relieve the suffering of some Sakalava, it nevertheless raises other questions, Clearly, Protestantism poses a potential threat to the local social and cultural order, since it seeks deliberately to undermine tromba and other elements of:Sakafava culture. Karp, for example, reports that within a year's absence from Tescsland in Kenya, all mediums had converted to Christianity and n a Ionger practiced possession 1581, In Ambanja, however, X do not foresee Protestantism making major inroads into the Sakalava community, because amrrng Sakalava this faith is too strcrngly associated with French colonial and Nerina enemies, At this f ~ n econversion , among Sakafava is rare and it is a last resort, for the price that one pays is heavy X n joining this new christian community the afflicted may in turn be alienated from Sakalava kin and friends, as happened in the case of Vivienne, As the three examples from tlze Lutheran church illustrate, candidates for such a slzift may already occupy socially marginal positions, This church offered each a new c~3mmtznit)rtc) join, albeit a non-Saka1avl.t one. These are extreme ctxamples, involving individuals who desperatefy seek relief.

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In these twa therapeutic contexts, the nation of ""cure" is relative and subjectively defined. Although ex-patients may still be troubled by their illnesses, they find that their eccentricities are usually better tolerated by others if they join a Protestant cttngregatictn. There is no equivafent alternative community outside tlze asylum fbr the psychiatric patient. The manner in which success is defined from the practitioner" point of view is alst:, relative. For the psychiatrist, it is defined in practical and aixnctlonat terms: is the patient able to rejoin the greater society and perform as an active member? For the Protestants, success is canciitional, based on cc~n-trersiontc>the faith. Conversion by Sakafava is regarded as a major success by the Prcttestants; among the Sakalarsa, converts are anomalies. In M;zdagascax; exorcism, in contrast to psycl~i&r.~i; is effective, and it may even be empowering fc~rthe patient, ironicalfy because c o n ~ r s i o nis such as important part of the process. The cctnversionarytactics of the Protestants are inmsive and, at first, require the patient" submission; soon, howver, the patient is actively invcflved in a dialugic t-berapeutic system whicl-t redc5nes reality and, ~~ltimatcly, the patient's illness and identity*Pvchiatrists in Madagascar, on the other hand, fail to assist their patients, A simple explanation b r this wauijd be that they do not acknotwiedge their experiences as Iegitimate; as Kleinman would recommend, h e y need to comprehend the patient" bbelief system, As these exampies from Madagascar iHustrate, however, the prctbfern runs far deeper than this, and it lies with the very nature of biomedicine. Biomedicine is an exclt~sionarybelief system, one that denies the legiti m a q of others, These psychiatrists emplc~yobkque tactics; where patients remains passive, uniformed of the therapeutic process and alienated from their communities, In addition to disempwering the patient, as other studies of medicalizatian assert, it also disempowers the doctor. It is perhaps for this reason that at least one psychiatrist in northern Madagascar has received training as an exc~rcist,

The data reported here were part of a larger study 01% spirit: possession and were coliected during f 2 mollths (Jat~uary1986-January 1987) of anthropologicai field research In Madagascar, Generous GnanciaX support was provided by the following Institutions: The U.S. Department of Education Fulhright-Hays Doctoral Dissertation Researcl1 Abroad Prograrn (Grartt No, G008640345); the Wenner-Grer~Foundation for Anthropological Research; The Sigma Xi Foundation; and the Lowie Fund of the University of California, Kerkeley-I wish to thank the informants who gave of their time, and H.T. for her invaluable work as an assistant throughout the tenure of this research. Finally, the fofoilowing peuple gave helphi ccalxrnents on difirent versions and portinlls of this Tnanuscript: two anonymous reviewers; B. Benedict, J. Cornell, E Uunn, A. Fox, G, FeefeyHarnik, S, Foster, L, Greeri, M, Lambek, M. B. Mills, L, Elhodes, N. Scheper-Hugl~esand M. warts, I. Kornanrrcci-Koss L, The l~ierarchyof resort in crrrative practices: The Admiralty 1slands, Melanesia. In C;tilture, Dtliase, arzcl I.feali~x.Studies in Medimli Anthrt~~rulogy (Edied by Landy D,). pp. $81-487, Macmillan, New Yc~rk,1977,

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2, Eikelman D. The Xs'iarnic attitrxde towards possession states, Xn Trance urtd Possessinn Stcitcas (Edited by Prince. lt.), pp. 189-192. Montreal, Proceedit~gsof the Second Annual Conference, R, M. Ruclce Memorial Sc,ciety 4 4 March, 1966 6 1968). 3. Pazder L. H, The attitudes of catholic missiox~ariesin eastern Nigeria. In R m c e auzd Posstr~~ZC)r~ Stales (Edited b y Prince K.), pp. 186-188. Montreal, 13roceedingsof the Second Annual Corlference, K. M. Bucke Memclrial Sodety 4-6 March, 1966 (1968). 4, Peaston M, Possession and trance states: A protestant view. Xn Trcfr~e'e arzd Possessinn Sr~11-es(Edited by Prince R.), pp. 193-195. Montreal, Proceedings of the Second Annual Coxzference, R. M. B u c k Memorial Society 44-6 March, 1966 1968). 5. Salmall, U, H. The attitude of Catl-toficismtowards pc>ssessionstates, In jlkance and P ~ Z S S ~States SS~O (Edited ~ ~ by Prince lt.), pp, 183-185, MotztreaI, Proceedings of the Second Anntral Conference, K. M, Klscke Memorial Society 4-6 March, 1966 ( 1968). 6. Fabrega H. Jr. Qn the syecificity of folk illnesses. Southwesterrz J, Anthropol, 26, 304-3 14,1970. 7. Janzen J, 2'he Qtlestfi~rjl"heraj~yhiltdical Pluralism iri 1,ower Zaire, University of California Press, Kerkeley, 1978. 8. Kiev A. (Ed.) Magic, Faith, and lfeulirtg. The Free Press, New York, 1964. "3 Kiev A, Ransc~llrurnhPsychiatry The Free Press, New York, 1972. 10. Lebra W. P. Sharnan-client interchange in Okinawa: Performative stages in

sharnallic therapy, In Culfztrc~lChuzcef~rionscq*AFLcrmtczlIIea1th arnnd T/zerc~gy(Edited by Marsetlit A. and M i t e G.), pp. 303-315. D, Reidel Publishing Co., Dordrecht, 1982. 11. LCvi-Strauss C. The surceror and his magic, In Structurttl Anthrijpoloy (Translated by Jacobmrz C. and Schoepf R.), pp. 167-185, Basic Rooks, New %rk, 1963. 12. Prince K. Indige~lous"i"o111bapsychiatry, fn Mugic, Faith, und H e ~ l i n g(Edited by Kiev A,), pp. 84-120, The Free Press, New York, 19664. 13. Sow I. An tkz roj~olr~gica2 Slructures cf MI;E Aness ir?f3ltzck 4 f r i m (Trandated by Uiamant i J,), International Universities Press, New York, t 980. 14. Torrey E. F- Wr'l.chclc~ctonund Psycilziurrz'sts. The C;ornmon Roots ~~fL~sychotRer~~j~y and Xts Fclture. Jason Aronson, Northvale, NJ, 19886, 15. Marsella A, I, and White G. M. fEds) Cultural Clone'ei~thnsclfzWentrjl fEecfEth.urtd Z"hertz~~~< D. lleidel Publishing Coxnya~~y, Dordrecht, 1982. 16. Meitzer I. X). A serniotic approacl~to suitability for psycl~iatry,Psychiatry 41, 435-458,1978. 17, Pande S. K. The rnystiyue of wstern psychcrtherapy: an easterxr interpretation, lournul rf Nt-lrvc~tas Me?~tailDis. 146,425-443,1968, 18, Kleinlnan A. Concepts and a xnodeI far the carnparis-on of medical systems as cultural systems. Soc. Sci, Med. 12,85-93, 1978. 1% Kkleirrman A. P(ztz"enrsand IIealers in the Cor~textof GtdZture. University of Calibrnia Press, Rerkelt-y; 1980. 20. Papyrts G. Solxe implications far the study of the doctor-yatierzt interaction: power, structtrre, and agenq in the works of Haward Waitzkin and Arthur Ktei~man.Snc Sci, Med 30,1139-204,1990. 2 1. Lkvi-Stratrss C. The effectiveness of symbols. Xn Srructurral Anthropalogy f Translated by Jacohson C. and Schoepf B.), pp. 186-205. Basic Book, New York, 1963. 22. For an alternative interpretation see: Taussig M,T. The nervous sysreix part I: ,%ucietyP ~ l ~ m 69-70,32-6 s 1, 1989. Homesickness and Dada. Krober Anrhrt~~~ological 23. Csordas, 1", Etements of charismatic pers~zasionand healing, Med. Anrhro~~olngy q ~ t j y 2 , 2 ,121-242, 1988.

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24, Frank J. Persutrsion urtd I-Ieulz'rzg.Johns Hapkins University Press, Baititnore, 1973 (t96l).

25, Csordas 7: The rhetoric of transformation in ritual heali~rg.C:t{lrure, Med, Psycl?z'at, 7,333-375,1983. 26. Greenfield S. Spirits and spiritist therally in sorrtherxr Brazit: a case strxdy of an innovative, syncretic healing group. (:&dEfzire, hiltd. Psychial; 16,23-53, 11392. 27, I wish to thank one of the anonymous reviewers for srrggesting this distinction hewee11 conversionary and exclusionary systerns. 28, Covell M, i;2/1~dugc~scar. hliliss, Econumics, muzd Societ~p, t 2. Frances Pinter Yublishers, London, 1387. 2% For a more detailed discussion of kinship see: Sharp L, A, The Possctssed muzd the Uisim~"~"',f~al: Spirit?;,Idel~ti&~ n Power d irz a *WadagascarMigrtarzr Towrz. Universiv of Caiifornia Press, Los Angeles. In press, 30. RIuch M. Plgciq lize Dtrud, Tombs, Ancestral Villages, urzd iV-inslaip Organizution itz Madagascar; pp. 59-60. Seminar Press, New York, 1971. 3 1. Sharp L. A. Possessed and dispossessed yorrth: spirit possessiorz of school children in hiltd. I3sychz'lzt.14,333-364, 11 390. nr>rtl~west Madagascar. (I'ulrut-c?, 32. Jaovelo-Dzao R, Antlzmopolqie Xeligieuse Sukuluvrr, Essui sur Z7luzculturutiouz du Chn'sticnnisme & 1Mudcrff6zsml:These de Trc>isi&rneCycle c11 Etlznc:,-Th4c>logie,Strassbourg, Ul-tiversitCdes Scier~ceHur-naines, FacultC de ThCoIogie Catholique, 1983. 33, Jaovelo-Dsao R, Anthro~7ologieReligiernse Sukuluvu, Eissul' sur I'IttczcEruratz'on Ju Clzrisrz'rruzismed L;2/1~drilg~~sca~ Antsiratlana, Xnstitut StlpCologie et de Phiitosoyhie de Madagascar, Recherches et Documents NO. 2,1987, 34. Craparlzarlo V. 2'he 1Liumadsi"za.R Stgdy in Moroccarz E ~ h n r ~ ~ x s y cUniversity hir of Caiiforxzia Press, Rerkeley, 1973. 35. Lewis I, M. Religion in Czorztc.xt. (;tilts ancl (Jhurbma. Cambridge University Press, Caxnbricfge, 19886, 36. Nirntz A. I-I. Jr. lslam and I%jEificsin E ~ s4frica: t 7 % Suji ~ Order in Ilhnzuaia. University of Nlinnesota Press, MinneayoIis, 1980. 37. Anonymorrs, Farzu;r;ul/artu~rzambun .Ffohazarzu, Pubiisl~eruxrknown [FJKM?],Amba toreny-Soatanat~a,Madagascar, 1962. 38, Rasamoela J, Ny Famj1)ianamna. Ninpetra-tfXurza XuitzisouEambo au Souicrrzuna. Publisher unknt>wn JFJKM?],Antananarivc~[?l, 1975. 39, Trexler E, R. The Prophetess of Madagascar. The I,utheran, pp. 10-13, September 27, 1989, 40, See the last two photos in: Estrade J, Le li.ombu. Utz Ctdre de Possession b Mdagascar. Editi~lnsAnthrc?yc>s,Pdris, 11 377. 41.13loch M, Why do xnalagasy cows speak French? !Kurag (L,S.E, Atlthropological Society), 28-30> 1972, 42. For more information on Malagasy speakers froxn the Comoro Xstands, see: Larnbek Cambridge University Press, M. FI~iwzunSpirits. A CJz-clturuEAccsunl of P~rzce ~M~ilyoi?a New York, 1980, 43. Calcium deficiencry is a major health concern In Madagascar: it is said that the Island's soil is deficier~tin this rnineral and so the most commc?alyprescribed drug, especially far wornen, is calcium. While &hoe and GiIetri have argued that a calcium deficiency may account for the prepondmance of possession among women cross-culturally, my data from Maaagascar does not support this I-typothesis.See: Kehoe A, 13. and Gifetti D.

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H. Women" preponderarxce In possession cults: the calcium-deficiency hypotl~esisexter~ded.Am. Arzt!troflol. 83,3,549-561, 1% 1. See also Raybeck er al. [&l]. 44, Raybeck D., Skoobe J. and Grauberger J. Miomen, stress, and participation in possession cults: a reexamination of the calcium deficiency hypothesis, Med AntIzrof~nl.Qrtly 3, 2,1399161,1989. 45, Vogel K, J. and Stephens B, Availability of pharmaceuticals in wb-Saharan Africa: roles of the public, private and cl~urchmission sectors, Soc Sci. Med. 29,479-486,1989. 46. Sachs L. and Tomson G. Medicines and culture-a double perspective on drug utiiization in it developing country, Soc. Sci. ,Z/l;cf. 34, 3,307-3 15, 19992, 47. Taussig M. T. Keification and the conscit>usnessof the patient. SIJG.ScZ" hiltd. 14E3, 3-13,1980. 48. Ruud J. Tal~oa.A Study ofMratbagasy Clinstotrzs urzd Belie$, Oslo University Press, Oslo, l"36. 49, Tedlack B. (Ed,) Ilrearnz'uag,Ar~tizmof?nEogicwl urtd Psycl?ologicuE I~terl~retugions. Schooi of American Research Press, Santa Fe, 11992. 50, Frankenberg R. Gramsci, culture, and medical anthropology: Kt111dt.y and Parsifal? or Rat" Tail to Sea Serpent?Meil. Ant!zli~j>of, Qrtty 2,324-337, 1988. 51. The discussion below has been shaped in part by Paypas 1201, who advocates that

studies of power in the context of doctor-patient interaction should i~ltegrateanalyses of structtire and agencry, 52, Zoia I. Medicine as an Institrrtiorz of social control, 111 The C,"lltzarral C'rz'sk ofiMoclem Medicr'l-~e (Edited by El~renreichJ.), pp. 80-100. Monthly 1Zeviav Press, New York, 1978. 53. Dunk P. Greek Mromen and broken nemes in Montreal. &Wed.Anthropal. 2, 29-45, 1989, 54. Lock M. Licorice In Leviathan: The medicalizatiorz of care for the Japanese elderfy. Cultzrre,Med. I>sychZal;8, 1121-139, 1984. 55, Ong A. The production of possession: Spirits and the xnultinational corporation in Malaysia. Am. EtlzrzoX. 15, 11,28-42, 1988. 56, Hahn El. Culture bound syndromes unbound. Soc. Sci, Med. 21, 165171, 1985. 57. Karp I. Deconstructing crriture-bourxd syndromes. Soc. Sci. Me~l,2 1, 2, 22 1-228, 19885, 58. Personal communication; see also: Karp I. Potver and capacity in rituals of yossession. In (I'rel~dvz'ty offff~wer. C;r~snzolr~gy U M ActZ'orz ~ in African Societies (Edited by Areas W. and Rarp X,), pp. 91-109, Smithsanian University I>ress,Washingtorz, D.C., 1989,

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The Wbman o Wanted To Be Her Father A Case Analysis of Dybbuk Possession in a Hasidic Community

Yoram Bilu examines a manifestation of spirit possession t l ~ a tis under reported in tlze anthmyofogical literature: ~iybbzakpossession amrrng Eastern European Hasidic communities. The author draws on archival and historical documentation of a ninteenth-century event and concludes that this culturally specific possession phenomenon is best understood as a mechanism of social and genderbased resistance rather than as psycholctgicaf deviance. -EJz'torsT~omlnet.rf;

of a Jewish woman in a 19th century Eastern European hasidic commtznity, which was ended by an episode of dybbclk-possession. Although the details of this episode were not specified in the account, the case was selected for presentation because, unlike most other reports of this Jewish variant of spirit possessic>n,it contains significant information ccrncerning the social matrix in which it evolved, as well as the biograpl-ties of its main protagonists. On the basis of this information, an attempt will be made to render the possession eyiscsde intelligible in terms of the psychc~dynamicand sociocultrtraI factors underiying it. N i t c case studies of spirit possession in various cuftrtres are well-represented in the anthropologicat literature (Crayanzano and Garrison, 197";7 Goodman, 1981 ; Obeyesekere, 1970), the dybbuk has been the exctusive domain of creative writers such as A n s k (1925) and Baslzevis-Singer (1959). The reason for this lack T H I S PAPER DISCUSSES A P E C U L I A R C A R E E R

fourtrrrl oflJf;ycI~c~analytic Antl'tropology8(1) (Winter 1985): 11-27.

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A Case Analysis cf Dybbuk Possctssion m

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of scientific investigaticrn is ~ o f o 1 dfirst, : although dybbukiun (pf,h r m ) thrived in many Jewish commrxnities as early as the 16th century (Scholem, f971), the general disintegration of the Jewish traditional centers in Europe and the Middle East in our time has eliminated them altogethex:As a resuft, no contemporary cases of dybbuk possession have been available since the 1930s. Seconcl, the bulk of dybbuk accounts are to be found in mystically oriented exegeses of the Scriptures, in books of hasidic tales and in special booklets and brochures, whtten in Rabbinicat Webrew or in Yiddislz. Evidently tlzese sources remain inaccessible to many scholars. Recently this predicament w s partially rectified by a scholar in Judaic studies, who meticulously cttlXected and annotated many reports of dyhbuk-possession (Nigaf, 1983). In the absence of i ~ - v i v ocases, however, the methodological problem of relying on secondary sources, written frcjm a definite moral and religious perspective, remains quite compelling. The case analysis that ensues is not exempt from this disadvantage, as it concerns a dybbtdk episode which had occurred long before the author of the account on which it is based was born. Yet this accorxnt is reptete with Betaas that enable a tznique glimpse into the motivational levef of the actors. The accrclunt and its psychocultrrrai exegesis wit1 be presented tntegratedly following a general review of the ~lybbukphenomenon in Judaism, Dybbrak-possession, by definition, involved spirits of the dead as possessing agents. Since these spirits were deemed malevolent and dangerous, the phenomenon was emically conceivcci of as a disease, to which exorcism, performed by a rbbi-healer, was ccrnsidered the only remedy, Unlilte many other cultures (Bourguigaron, 19733;Crapanzano and Garrison, 1977;Lewis, 1971), Judaism did not possess the posidve category of ceremonial possession, in whicl-t the dissociative state is not stigmatized but socially apyr~>ved, and the adept seek?;to establish a symbiotic relationship with the possessing agent (Bilu, f 980: 36). The ideationaf matrix in which the dybbuk plzenamenan germinated was the mystical doctri~leof transmigration of souls (gilgzkl),formulated as early as the 12th century (Scholem, 19"T1), but developed into a universal law during the 16th centrxv Specifically,it was the concept of impregnation (ibbur),derived from that doctrine, which laid tl-te theosophical basis for possession by elaborating the possibility of a spirit penetrating a living person @er he was born (whereas transmigration suppoxdfy occurred during conception or birth). The designation ~iybbuk,derived from the Hebrew verb ""dvcrlPr": to stick, was applied to spirits who penetrated humans in order to find reftuge from celestial persecutions. Since these were spirits of notorious sinners, they were doomed to remain in lixnbo, without even being aUowed entrance to Hel ( h e r e spirits could be purged and proceed tc>wardsHeaxn), In this limind state, they were exposed to relentless torments inflicted upon them by angelic and demonic beings, Inhabiting humms provided tl-tese persecuted spirits with temporary shelter, which they were unwilling to leave unless fc~rcedtcj thrc3ugh harsh exordstic measures. Since the tl-teosoplzicat doctrines underlying the ~iybbukwere formulated within the framework of Jewish mysticism, it is no m n d e r that this Jewish variant of possession mainly appeared in mysticalfy oriented circles, Seyhardic as

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well as Ashkenazi. Most of the first cases, in the 16th and 17th centuries, were documented in l~alianancl Middle Eastern Sephardic communities, but during the 18th and 19th centuries, East European hasidic ccrmmunities, mainly in Russia and Poland, supplied most of the reports, As in other cultural variants of possession (Baurg~zignon,1976; Lewis, 1971; Oesterreich, 1930; Mrjlker, 1972), women were clearly over-represented among the I$yhbznk victims, whereas most of the possession spirits were male, As a resuft, tlze most prevalent pattern of gender combination among the ~iybbukinzwas a male spirit penetrating a female human. This pattern may be accounted for by the ""clprivation hypothesis" "reenbaum, 1973; Lewis, 1966, 1972 ), as a form of female protest: i.e. in a male dominated society, the idiom of spirit possession enables a trc>ubledw m a n to borrow a potent masculine identity throtzgh which behaviors normally proscrikd to her may be acted out in a socially acceptable way An atternative aptanation may consider spirit possession as a very convenient metaplzor for articulatit~gexperiences related to female sexuality (Bourguignon, 1981): the fact that the victim is penetrated by the possessing agent ccrincides with the female traditionatly receptive rcrle during cttitus, while the very state of possession, in which an external entity resides in the victim's body, bears a clear resemblance to pregnancy. In the documented cases of dybbukirn sexual overtones are quire salient, They are maniksted, among other things, in the conceptual formulations of possession (e.g. the doctrine of impregnation), in the selection of the vagina as a preferred site of penetration, in the verbalized motivatlons of the spirits to take possession of their victims, and in their transgressions during their lifetime, confessed during the exorcistic ritual. (For a fuller discussion of the sexual aspects in dybbuk-possession, see Bilu, in press,) In addition to sexualirlt; howver, the tilybbuk idiom served as an outtet for other urges and desires, some of which are clearly related to the "&privation hypotl~esis.'"n fact, as these explanations are more ccrmpltementary than exclusive, both might apply to many of the case reports, including the one to be analyzed later, Dybbtak-yossesslon is depicted tlzrouglz tlze case reports as a crystallized syndrome, the behavior patterns of which remained relatively stable across time and space. Although the literary promulgation of the cases might have contributed to tlzis uniformity it should be remembered that the symptoms were not idiosyncratically construed, but rather derived their form and meaning from a public set of symbols shared by most members of the cttmmuni~.During the possession episode, which was characteri~edby altered consciousness ancl later masked by amnesia, the inhabiting spirit" presence was clearly felt through odd bodijy pastures, violent convulsions, strange vocalizations, obscene verbalizat-ions,and self and other directed aggressive belzaviors, Xenoglossia, divination and mastery of specialized sltills were also ccrmmsrn spirit-specific behaviors. As in other cultural variants of possession-as-disease (Oesterreich, 1930: 1031, tlze exorcism of the ~lybbukwas construecl as a patterned sequence of steps, the strict ft3llowing of which perforce culminated in its exy-~zfsion.Throtzgh these steps, the spirit" identity and posthumous vicissitudes were disclosed, the condi-

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tlons for its departure were negotiated and the body site through which it would eventually leave-usually one of the big toes-was agreed upon (Bilu, 1980; k t a i , 19'78).The exc~rcizer,usually a mystically oriented rabbi, executed his interventions in a fixed, gradual order, escalating from milder measures of verbal coaxing of: the spirit to adjurations and decrees of excommunicatian, Coercive methods of fumigating the L;Eybbuk or beating it were rescsrted to after verbal alternatives had been exhausted and found ineffective, Often the excjrcism was perfcjrmed it1 the spagogue with the active participation of a minyan (religious quorum of 10 male adults), or even the entire audience, In this setting, Jewish. sacred paraphwnafia (Torah scrolls, rituat horns, candles) were employed during tlze critical stages of the exorcism in order to Fdcilitate the expulsion of:the spirit, Not surprisingly, the exc~rcisticrituat has been the rhetorical climax in most of the case acu3unts. The rabbi-spirit encounter was usually depicted as a Long and bitter struggle, emotianally charged and exhausting, The heater had to mobilize all lzis stamina anci resourcefulness to overpower his obstinate anci insidious adversary, for whom the victim" body cccrnstituted a longed for refuge from the persecution~of vindictive angels of destruction. Dramatic and ardrtous as tlze exordstic ritual appeared in tlze texts, it turned out to be a very efficacious psychotherapy. In most of the reported cases the pcjssessed w r e completely and irrevocably cured, The fact that deviants could be so smoothly tamed reflects, on one level, the extent to which traditional fewislz communities had control over their members, More than that, however, it alludes to the peculiar character of those individuals who enacted the culturafly prescribed role-belzaviors of tlze possessed, Given the heavy cultural processing of dybbuk possession (which makes it an apt example of ""cultural specific syndrome"") it might reasonably be argued that those deviants who were both willing anci able to artictlfate their inner canflicts within the dybbuk idiom were not substantially disturbed. From a psychiatric perspective, there seems to be a vast consensus that they should be designated dissociative hysterics (Fenichel, 1946; Veith, 1965);but hysteria is an ""eusive category" "rohn, 1978), given the wide range of ccrntexts in which it has been applied and of meanings ascribed to it. In his insightfix] analysis of the dynamics underilying cultural variants of: hsteria, Krolzn suggests that we regard this disorder as a peculiar, culturalfy based attempt to promote "the myth of passivity3':"" that is, to disown responsibility for thoughts, acts and impuises, the sheer expression of which is socially proscribeci. The ingenuity of:the hysteric lies in his ability to piay out dclminant cultural identities, ""often to a marginal but never to a socially alienating extreme" "bid., p. f S), to which these deviant personal prociuctions could safely be attributed, This ability to resolve individual conflicts by astutely tzsing the dominant forms of the culture indicates that the faculties of reality testing, impufse ctbntrof and interpersonal sensitivity remain substantially unitnpaired in hysteria. This view of hysteria is consistent wit11 the fact that, throtzgh most of its long history, it has been ccrnsidered a mild and curable disorder,

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In line with Krohnk theory, dybhbuk possession appears to have represented a ~ ~ n i q uJewislz e version of lzysteria which germinated in the cultrzral matrix of Tewish mysticism, In this setting, the spirits of notorious sinners served as agents of choice, tl-rrctughwhich the myth of passivity could be maintained vis-a-vis sexual wishes, aggressive tlzoughts and anti-religious Eanfasies, Given the paucity, if not the total absence, of other institutionalized outlets for expressing impulse-faden wishes in Jewish orthodc)~communities of former centuries, it is no wonder that ~iybhuk-possessianpersisted as t l ~ eJewish culturebound syndrome par excellence for no less than four hundred years. Although emically dyhbuk possession, is considered a deviant phenomenon, the elaborate cultural processing of tl-te l-lybbuk milcie srzc'h ritual a very powerful vehicle fbr enhancing confc~rmityin the community, This effect ccrtzld be reached due tcr the rich moralistic implications of the cases. In particular, the tantalking ordeals of the spirits in the hereatieer, as reported by them during exorcism, cmstituted an evidential confirmation for the idea that in the coming world, reg~zlatedby prilzciples of reward and punishment, the righteous are prosperous and the wicked arc doomed, Embedded within the dramatic spectacle of the exorcistic ritual, the impact of these recitations was so strong as to produce deep sentiments of compunction and repenten= in the entire community*The published reports were deliberateety de,signed to maintain and ampli@ these sentiments, Written from a definite conservative sfance, by people who usually belonged to the rabbinical establislzment, they emphasized the sins of the spirits in their lifetime, the terrible punishments to which they were subject in the afterworld and the resourcefufness and moral ascendency of the rabbi-exorck~ers,as reflected in their successfui struggles with the possession spirits, Given this ideological bias, it is no m n d e r that information concerning the life-histories of the possessed is meager or entirely nonexisteat. The case under study, on the contrary, is very laconic as to the possession episode, btzt exaptionally relrealing con~erningthe antecedent @actorsunderlying it, This fact should be primarily attributed to the singularity of its source. The ~iybhfrkaccount under discussion was taken from a volrtme of memoirs of an Israeli scholar of judaic Studies, dedicated to his childhood in the Gafician town of Brctdy (Sadan, 1938). Prior to World War I, Brody was an important Jewish center, located on the border between the Austro-Hungarian Empire and Czarist IXussia. As a child, Sadan had heard many stories concerning the Jewish cttmmunity of his hometown during eartier generations, which he later promulgated in his book. One of these stories was an account of a peculiar case of a ~iybhuk which had taken possession of a m m a n named Eidel in the seccrnd half of the 19th century, The account was related to him by his grandmother, who claimed to have been an eye-witness. A significant aspect of the case was the fact that it inlrcrlqd a highly venerated hasidic family, the history of which is well documented. Therefore some, of the details in the account f though not the dybbznk episode by itself) could be corroborated through other sources, From a psychodynamic perspective, the roots of the drama that culminated in Eidef's possession may be traced back to the formative F a r s of her father, Ikabbi

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Skalcim Rokach, the founder of the well-known hasidic sect of Belze. Rabbi Shalom ( 1 783-1855] was born in Brody into a distinguislzed bmily, tlze genealogy of which w s embedded with great sages and rabbinical scholars. When he was a srnatf child, his father died and he was sent to another town to jive with his maternal uncle. Hence, within a short while, young Shalom unclerwent two traumatic separatitrns: having lost his father, he was removed from his mother, to whom he was strongly afiached. The ftact that his mother, who stayed in Brody, soon remarried, miglzt have exacerbated lzis feelings of privation and loss, Under his tzncle's patrrinage, however, these feelings cciuld be greatly mitigated. The uncle helped his yciung nephew to complete his rabbinical education under the greatest hasidic masters of that time, and gave lzirn lzis dauglzter Malka as a wife. From the outset, this marriage proved to be extraordinarily harmonious. In the text, the mrrtivational basis for Rabbi Shalom" b w d l e s s love for his wife was explicitly finked to his sentiments towards his mother: "Evidently>his longings for his soul, were displacecl onto the luminous figt~reof his mothel-, which i~~Ramecl his noble cotzsin. . . ." If, indeed, the close tznion of marriage constituted for Rabbi Shatorn a compensation for the separation from his mother, then selecting the materlauf cousin as a substitute love object seems suggestive. While such a ""psychological" idea was not entertained by the official chronicles of the Belze sect, they also took great pains to stress the mutual affection and devotion that persisted prevailed in the relationship of the couple. This profound at~acl~ment in later years in Belze, where Rabbi Shalom's growing reputation as a great hasidic master and spiritual arrthority granted him thousands of devoted foIXowrs frcrm all over Galicia. His adherents, whcr referred to him as aclrnur (Hebrew acronym for ""our master, teacher and rabbi"") considered him a tsaddik (a pitxzs, holy man) and flocked to his court, asking for advice, blessing, and remedy. The intimate, lzarmonious relations between Rabbi Shalom ancl his wife were noted by many visiting rabbis, one of whom found the cciuple, already at old age, ""like Adarn and Eve before the sin" "(Mleyhol~z, 1972: 861, This affectionate bond was tragically broken with the sudden death of the Rabbi" wife, which left him heart-brokn and dejected. Once again, he was deprived of a love object trt whom he was fervently attached, For many years he could not be consolecl, refusitlg to accept God's verdict and entreating him to bring his beloved spouse back to life. His only ray of comfort in his anguish w s his daughter, Eidel, the third significant female figure in his life, Out of Rabbi Shalom" five sons ancl two da~~ghters, Eidel, tlze younger girl, was clearly his Eavorite, It might be speculated that she won most of her father's sffection, despite the strcrng cultural preference fcir male desclendents, because, for him, she was an extension of her motlzer and granclmathel-, whom she replaced as an object of libidinal investment. However, Rabbi Shalom could not ignore the substantlaf disadvantages of being born female in a society where "wcimen are accorded less itnportance than men'"(hin~z, 1968: 83). Eidel" femininity, a guaranteed prescription fbr inferior status and exclusion from spiritual and intellectual life ((Lacks, 198(1: f 631, was for Rabbi Skatorn a predicament with which he coufd

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not reconcile himself. The resultant tone of unrelieved wistfulness which colored tlze Rabbi" admiring attitude towards Eidel found expression in the text as follc~ws:"He (Rabbi Shalom) said: the preserved light that should have illuminated the whole world is contained in my daughter Eidei. If she were male, she could have lzastened the coming of: salvation. No one could be as pious. It was due to Satan" mischievctus interference that she was not born malePThat Rabbi Shalom repeakdly tried trt rectify this tnterkrence shows the same wishful yearning to clzange what is, by all means, irrevocable, as lzad occurred in lzis reaction to his wife's death. As Zborowski and Herzog ornately described, raising a daughter as a son was a rare plzenomenon, limited to a specific famify constellation: "if there is no son to be a kfzeider (religious school) b~ry,to be examined on a Sabbath afternoon, to shed luster and inflame pride by his recitations, a father may so yearn for an intelfecttral heir that he will try trt build up his daughter into one" 0962: f 28). Since Rabbi Shalom had five potential intellectual heirs, Eidel" higher position may be viewed, on the manifest level, as a sheer expression of her &ither's love and care, in the context of the male-oriented Jewish communities 43f former centuries. Yet,in the intimate, tacit context of a "6dmily romance: it miglzt as well reflect a d e f e n s i ~device against libidinal wishes and fantasies in connection with his daughter (paraphrasing Homey" discussion of the masculiniz-)lcttmplex in women (1926). In accord with the oedipal paradigm, Horaey attributed these wishes to the daughter). Rabbi Shalom" pathetic attempts to masculinize Exdel w r e lucidly manifested in various symbofic gestures lze made to adorn her with male religious artifacts. When she was young, he used to decorate her head with his phylacteries and skullcap, man" ritual objects, which convey a strong masculine phallic quality (Edel; 1933; Bif~r,l979:450). Among the gifts lze sent lzer after she lzad been married and settled in Brc>dp(his own native town), there was a magnificent silk cover of a Tc~rahscroll. W e n Eidel sent it back, assuming tha"ee had mistaken it for a silk scarf?, Rabbi Shalom made it clear that his present was properly canceived. ""l my Eidel ncrt a Tc~ral?scroll," he asked, again using a ccrmmon masculine metaphor, which is usually equated with a mate child, In his last moments, Rabbi Shalom pronounced lzis attitude towards Eidel directly and fc>rcef:ully, When his daughters were remrrt~edfrt>mhis death bed, lest their excessive weeping and groaning spoil the moment of dying, the moribrrnd rabbi persisted, ""Edel slzould stay, since for me she is not a daugl-tterbut rather a son.'" After Rabbi Shalom" death, his yotzngest son, Rabbi Roshuah, inherited his thrctne and led the Belxe sect for almost 40 years, until the last decade of the f 9th century. Eidcl, for lzer part, managed to attract some of her fatlzer's fc~llowers, who admired her wisdctm and erudition. They wctuld come to her court in Brody asking for advice and blessings, and enjoying her brilliant commentaries on the Torah. Evidently slze functioned as an udu~;rorfor these lzasidim among whom she was known as ""Edel the Rabbi.'" h a ssaciet-y where a wctman-rabbi was a role cttmbtnation of the uttermost incttmpatibiiity3 this appelation should have been

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quite extraordinary, Milzether one accepts that ""there is no better sex in the Jewish religion:" as orthodox apologetics contends (Appleman, 1979: C;), or that Jewislz women were denied ""te very essence of a breath of human being," as modern feminists claim (Lacks, 1980: 165), it is evident that ""women were excluded from schnlarslzip study of the Torah anci obligatory, positive cammandznents that assured the Jewish sgirituat and commtznal life" "bid, p. 125). As a result, the rabbi role seemed inaccessible to wcjmen. Still, the emergence of Eidef as an udmur was not t~nprecedented.Jewislz sources present an impresshe, albeit. crxigt~ous,gallery of women, who, since the Talmudic era, have pursued the rote of a religious scholar or a religious functicznary, both in Ashkenazi and Sephardi~communities, Although never officiatly ordained as rabbis,2 tlzese women assumed imyortant ccrngregational positions, servir~gas leaders in synagogues (Braoten, 1982), as teachers in refigious academies, as scribes and ccrmmentators on the %~rah,as ritual starrghterers, and also as mdr~arsin hasidic communities, sometimes with their own establislzeci courts (Alphasi, 19'74; Horodetsky, 1944). It should be emphasized that mrrst of these women were toterated by the refigious establishment becarrse, unlike modern Jewish feminists, they did not attempt to revolutionize Jewislz c.onceytians and definitions regarding males anci females, Thus, when addressing teachings to a male at~dience,w m e n scholars maix~tainedthe segregation of the sexes in pubtic places by remaining ixtvisible in a separate critbicle or behind a curtain. Others restricted their instructions to female concerns (e-g. dietary and purity laws), addressed to women ont-y. Even the fact tha"eome of these w m e n used to wear male-owned ritual artifacts, such as a prayer slzawt (talit), frit~gedgarment (tsitsit), and plzylacteries (tefilllrt),cannot be taken as a manifest attempt to undermine man" superior stance in ritual fife. Unlike other positive commandments (e.g. being munted in a minyan-religious quorum; reading from the Torah during synagogue prayers; uttering kaddislzmourners' prayer), the enactment of which by wcjmen is forbidden because it might deprive their mate counterparts from fulfilling their gender-specific ritual obligations, there is no explicit prolzibition against women adorning themselves with male religiorzs objects. It is significant to note that women almost never staked a claim for those commandments in which their participation might have precluded men from performing their religious duties, Strategically, they were anxious not to enlarge their leeway at the expense of the other sex (one deviant case in this regard wilt be mentioned later). Nevertheless, even without declaring it, the very phenomenon of women-rabbi could be easily conceived as a form of "female p rotestn";t probably y rovcrked and bothered the religioufieaders, whose unenthusiastic consent might have maslced a deep-seated ambivatence. Even the adzniration that Eidel" followers bestowed tlpon her as described in the text as ntztured by "the love for the anomalous and strange"Wn the whole, it seems safe to assume that women-rabbis were tolerated primarily because of their small numbers, which rendered the phenomenon trifling and marginal. The fact that Eidef lived in a hasidic community is significant, since hasidism seems to have been more conducive than other Jewish hameworks to the phe-

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nomenon of wmen-rabbis. Hasidic sources rekr to about 15 Mrarnen who behaved as adrnors (Alphasi, 1974). At least in its formative years in tlze 18th ancl 19th centuries, hasidism was a mystically-based mrrwment., with a clear social credo. It attracted the Jewish masses in Eastern Europe by offering them paths to God wl-ticlz did not rest upan Talmudic scholarship and scholastic erudition (Bilu, 1982). fn so doing, it lexled a criticism against the rabbinical oligarchy; whic11 considered these virtrres as tantamount to true religiosity. As a ""rligious movement of tlze oppressed: it seemed natural that women would be given a better status, f ndeed, some reviews of hasldisrn (especially Harodetsky, 1944, 1951) emphasized the egalitarian tendencies in the movement, noting the devatua"eon of formal study, the emergence of: the tsaddiq, a community leader accessible to both sexes, and the proliferation of yc~yularhasidic literature written in the vernacular (Yiddish), as the main developments which elevated w m e n k status, In fact, these trends w r e either greatly idealized or else very short-jived, since, according to ethnographic evidence (Mintz, 1%8; Zborowsk and her~og,19821, the gay between the sexes in hasidic sects has generally been preserved, and the exclusion of wcrmen from religious and spiritual life has not been significantly more fentent than in non-lzasidic circles. Therefore, even in hasidic communities, where the significant nurturing dimension w s added to the rote of the fiadtlz'q, and hence seems particularly fit for Mromen, the phenomenon under discussion was deemeci negligible and peripheral. This 6ict was primarily manifested in that women-rabbis in hasidism, as elsewhere, ccrnstituted a very select, hc>mogenetrus grcrug, clearly discernible by high socio-economic status, Like Eidel, most of them were the daughters of renowned rabbis anci sages who were raised in an atmosphere of learning and piety, enjoying their fathers%igh prestige and relatively liberated from mundane concerns, As a result, they developed comparatively high expectations as to their futrrre vocation and were given more elbowrcsom ttr pursue it. As mentioned before, some of these w m e n , who were born into families with no maIe descendents at ail, were raised as son-substitutes and intellectual lzeirs (most renowned of this sub-group were tlze daughters of Rashi, the great medieval ccrmmentator). Particularly in the hasldic cases, there were allusions to the important role played by the distinguished fathers in preparing the psycl-tological matrix for and legitimizing their dauglzters' aspirations. Already the Besht (acronym fbr Rabbi Israel Bakl Shem-Tov), fc~underof the hasidic movement f 1700-1760), was said to have considered his daughter as one of his students, while otlzer admurs identified in their daughers ""sparks of holiness" and piety characteristic: of a tscaddik (Ashkenazi, 1953). The detailed account of the case of Eidel enables us to go b e p n d these general sociological and psychofogical variables and to unfold tlze psychodynamics presumably tznderlying her emergence as a rabbi. In this case, the Rabbi" deep attachment to his daughter was accounted for in the light of his hrmer retations with his motlzer and wife, and his attempts to masculinize her were explicated as ntzrtured by a conscious yearning to furnish his beloved daughter with a better lot in a male dominated society, together with an unmnscious warding of libidi-

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nal wishes and fantasies associated with her. It might be suggested that her special relationship with her father informed her that being loved is associated with being male. This association seems conducive to the development of a particularly intensified masculine complex, the alleviation of which may have required an alteration of her feminine self-image (see Edgecumbe, 1976; Horney, 1926). To what extent this dynamic was facilitated by Eidel's rejection of her mother as an object for identification is hard to say, since their relationship was not mentioned at all in the texts. Of course, the general inferior status allotted to women in the culture, enhanced in this case by the father's prominent stance, might have contributed to this end. In addition, it seems plausible to assume that the younger Eidel was when her mother died, the stronger the impact of this event had on deterring her from taking her mother as a role model. In internalizing a male representation, Eidel probably followed the model set before her by her admired father. Whether or not she identified with him in the context of a (negative) oedipal phase, as a regressive yielding of the father as a love object, the idea that she created an introject of him is entertained in the light of subsequent episodes in her life. The first of these events was, of course, Eidel's attempt to follow her father's footsteps in becoming an admor. There is some scant evidence in the Belze chronicles that in enacting this rule, she explicitly used Rabbi Shalom as a model, reiterating verbatim, for example, his healing formulae when ailing adherents came to her door. Moreover, Eidel did not rest content in her self-established court in Brody. Fortified by her deep conviction that she was her father's true heir and successor, she declared open war on her brother, the second admor of the Belze sect, accusing him of social injustice and corruption. Sociologically, Eidel's reproaches should be understood in the context of the process of expansion and institutionalization that the Belze sect, as well as other hasidic courts, underwent during the 19th century. Within an amazingly short time, hasidism was transformed from an innovative social movement, persecuted for its mystical ideas, into the dominant force in Eastern European Jewry, an inseparable part of the orthodox establishment. In various settings, including Belze, this transformation was particu1arIy displayed through the contrast between the plain living and modesty of the founder of a hasidic dynasty, and the affluence and haughtiness of the second generation, brought about by the mounting popularity of the tsaddikirn and their exaltation to the level of sainted figures. Eidel's social pathos, however, might well have reflected a rekindling of infantile conflicts related to sibling rivalry. As Rabbi Shalom's favorite child, she believed herself to be the true carrier of his legacy and felt usurped by her brother. His affluent court all the more strengthened her conviction that he was altogether dissociated from their father's way of life and, hence, unentitled to his throne. Eidel's tragedy was that her personal conviction was not shared by the hasidie communities in and around Befze. Her followers were few compared with the masses of her brother's adherents, mainly from the small shtetls and villages of Galicia. After all, she was only a woman, a fact that could be denied in fantasy

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life, but not in the real wczrld (see Lubin [ 19581 for a discussiczn of similar dynamics in a case of a 'Yerninine Moses"") That slze nevertheless initiated a battle against her brother might be taken as an indication of how thc~rcjughlyshe introjected her father and hc~wstrcrngly she was enguffed by his expectations, The clash between the siblings escalated as Eidel" accusations became more bitter and pcrignant and their rendering obsessive. Eventuaily, sensing her irnpending defeat, she gradually sank into what the text caffs "the dimness of metanclzoly.'To lzer brother's followers her behavior appeared so bizarre and aberrant as to invoke the idea that she had fallen prey to a dybbuk. Mie do not have enough information to determine whether Eidel did manifest symptoms typical. of tiybbznk-possession at tlzat phase or was she so labeled arbitrarily in order tc>render her behavior explicable and tc>moderate its revoft~tionary impact. From a feminist perspective, it seems plausible that the hasldic leadership responded to the challenge that EideI's 'Yemale protest" posed by falsely clzargitlg her with evil-spirit possession, a P~bricationpantamount to (though less disastrotzs in ccrnsequences) accusing women of witchcraft in pcrst-Medieval Europe (Ben Vehuda, 1980). Yet, even if Eiclel" definition as possessed was inirialy forcecl upon her, her later enactment of: tlze dybbuk role was clearly personally motivated and it caused much embarassment to her brother and his supporters. Accrept-ingthe vatidity of rlybbuk possession as a ]wish culture-specific syndrome (see Bit~l,in press), I believe that Eidel could have fo~~ncl it a particularly convenient idiom for articulating her experiences on both the ysychcrdynamic and ideological levels, Supporting evidence fczr this argument may be drawn from the case of Eidel" contemporary, "The Maiden of Ludmir" "(1815-1892), certainly the most Earnous wman-rabbi of all times (Biber, 1946; Tversky, 1950). In view of the typical Jewis11 female scholar, the Maiden was a deviant case in two respects, First, her P~milywas from the rank and file, and not from the rabbinical oligarchy. As a result, she pursued her vcrcation withclut having a parental model, altilough her father, a well-to-do merchant, furnished her with all the means for study, Second, the Maiden of Ludmir went further than any other woman-rabbi in traditional circles in her attempts to pass as a man, c~bserving, for example, commandments which were excXusive1y prescribed for males. Hers was a real "female protest:" and, for a while, a very successf~tlone, since she managed to draw to her court many thc~usandsof l~asldim,and, like Eidel, threatened the hegemany of the Ukrainian admors, Vet, even in this extreme case, no afiernpt was made to defy notions concerning traditional views of: males and females in modern feminist style. The Maiden's protest w s purely an individual affair. Accepting as given the ftrailty inherent in the fernate nature, she managed to circumvent it by claiming to have been granted a male sout. This spirituai transfomation, precipitated by a dramatic episode of disease and altered consciousness, supplied her with an acceptable rat-ionalizaticznfor her unnatural, man-like manners, (She shrewdly embedded into the trance-like ""cnversinn'\pisode the most renowned Ukrahian fiaddik as the one who handed her the new soul). Loyal to this sell ctdnception, the Maiden, unlike other fernate rabbis-inciuding. Eidel3-

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reftused to get married, in order not to profane her souf, In fact, her decline began soon after she lzad been convinced by that Ukrrainian tsucidz'it" to quit the single state and find a husband. On the background of this self-generaktl rationale, the fact that the Maiden of L~ldmirwas considered by some rabbis of her opponents as a victim of dybhukpossession should not come as a surprise, nor should it be conceived of as an altogether arbitrary fabrication, Actually both explicative schemes seem structurally identical it1 conteacling tlzat a male soullsyirit resided in a femafe body. As noted before, these two types of possession are contained within the mystical doctrine of impregnation (ibbur). Content-wise, there was, of course, a crucial difference between them, since ~iybbuk-possesslaa,it~stigatedby an evil spirit, was ccznsidered an extremely negative state, while the Maiden" version implied that her new spirit pertained to a tsaddik, therefore her transformation was pctsitiveXy valued. The same contrctversy concerning the nature of the possessing agent evofved in the case of Eidel, to which we are now returning. We dcz not have information indicating that Eidel ctxrtty entertained the idea that a male soul had been transplanted in her body; yet the fact that she was raised as a boy, pursued a mafc vocation, and presumably created an introject of her father, seems to constitute a psychological climate conducive for such an idea to emerge, Unlike the Maiden of Ludmir, however, Eidel did enact the rote of the possessed, ancl in this enactment lzer hidden dialogue with her 6itlzer was dramaticaly acted out. Xn fact, the text depicts Eidel" possessiczn only in the context of the exctrcistic ritual, which took place befolre a large audience in a small town outside Brody. The exczrcizer was none other than her brcjther, Rabbi Ueoshuah, the second admar of Belxe. This confrontation betwen the sibling-adversaries made the emotionally clzarged episode of tlze exorcistic ritual all the more dramatic. But the mounting tension exploded ecstatically in the first stage of the meeting when, in response to the exorcizer% routine inq~riry,Rabbi Shalom" flat voice burst out from Eidef" m o a h . X n front of tlze stunned audience the voice accused the exorcizer of numerotzs transgressions, portrqing the BeIze court as an exempltar of vice and corruption, At first Rabbi Heoshuah could not cope with these blatant reproaches, and retreated, embarrassed ancl humiliated, After a while, however, having redefined the possessing agent as an evil spirit who acted as an impctster, he recovered and resumed his attack on the dybbznk, For some time the exorcizer's maledictions and aeIjurativns it~termingledand leveled out with the spirit's charges and reproaches. Then the latter" low vczice gradually faded away; the possessing agent, whether the father" spirit or an evil one, was exctrcized, and Eidef, ostensibly cured by her brotl~er,sank, according to the text, into the abyss of ""compltete darkness," n e x r to regain her mental balance. In light of the exegesis of Erdel's career, the dybbuk possession episode appears as an ""apympriate'kpiitague to her life drama. Having failfed to realize lzer masculine strivings by dethroning her brother, she regressed from identifrying with the father into a more primitive type of internalization, i.e., incttrporaticzn, a process

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"whereby the subject, more or less on the levef of fantasy, has an object penetrate his bctdy and keeps it 'inside the bctdy"""Lap1anche and Pontafis, 1972: 21 f ). By incorporating her father, Eidel resorted to the most extreme device supplied by her culture in order to assert in a ""visible,""public manner her linkage to Rabbi Shalom, Far a slzort whife, in Fact, she anci lzer father were one in a very concrete way. Her failure to substantiate her desperate claim, lzowever, wwas followed by a total, irreversible>ccrlIapse. 'Ib ccrncfude, Eidel's dj;vbbuk was depicted here as the end-product of a strong masculine complex in a Mroman who was raised by her father as a rnate child and who subsequently pursued a rnate vocation, taking her father as a rofe-model, In the possession episode, Eidef's sstong identification with the father, heretofore inferred from her career as a rabbi, was manifested directly and lucidly. It slzould be emphasized that our analysis has concentrated on one symbolic dimension of the mutttvocal idiom of spirit possession, related to identity problems, namely the articulation of self-representatic3nsbuilt out of intscrjected figures (Crapanzano, 1977: 16). The articulation of forbidden sexual and anti-religious impulses and desires, which was emphasized in other case accounts (see Bilu, in press) seems to have been less dominant in the case under strrdy, Hence no attempt is made to present the anatysis of the Eidel case as a generalized ctxpticative scl-reme,applicable to other ~iybbukinz.The case of Eidel is significant in its own right since it t~niquelyallows a psychodynamical1yoriented reconstruction of rl-te motivational processes tznderlying the possession episode. As a result, this episode ccruld be ccrherentt-y embedded into the entire life course of the actor. Other case accounts are tot->obscure to allow a meaningful integration of this kind. The psychodynamic emphasis in the exegesis shaufd not blind us to the sociocultural context in which Eidet" two rotes, as a rabbi and as a dybbuk, evoir,red, Given the social predicaments and role stresses of wctmen in traditionat Jewish communities, Eiideit" pursuit of the rabbi-role might be conceived of as an attempt to obtain enlarged elbowroom and to improve personal status, as well as an expression of scrcial protest. Her possession could be interpreted along these lines as a desperate attempt to maintain that endangered status. It seems tcz me, however, that this ""feminist" kterpretation, while generafly valid, cannot serve as a complete explicative scheme, as it does not take into account the fine details of the specific case. It is the psychodynamic understanding of the delicate web of fatlzer-daughter refations anci their ongoing representations in fantasy which renders the case of Eidel meaningful. At the same time, the motivational system described above did germinate the particular male-oriented socio-cultural matrix. Karen Horney, a woman-analyst sensitive to male-oriented biases in Freudian psychoanalysis, has contended that it is ". . . imycrssible to judge hcrw great a degree the unccrnscious motives for the flight from wmanhood are reinforced by actual subctrdination of woman" "(1926: 338). An integration of these WO ievefs, the psychodynamic and the socio-cultrrral, has indeed been the objective of the psychocultural exegesis of the case of-Eidel.

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1. Sadan" grandparents were Eidelk adherents, and it is their version of her story which Is presented Ilere, Xn the officiaj cllronicles of the Relze sect, It was noted that she bel-raved iike a rabbi, btlt the social drama which evolved from this behavior was exztirely ornined. 2, The first ordinatiarx of a women to the rabbinate took place in the V.S. in 1972, Since then, more than 40 wcrmen of the Reform and Recoastructioaist movements have been ordained, Qrthodm Jews ux~equivocallyreject the idea of a wrnan-rabbi. 3..In tight of the pz-escnt analysis, unfc3tding the nattlre of Eidel's marriage is of utmost importance, but the relevant information is extremely meager. XI is noted, hawever, that Eidel's husband, an erudite rabbi, refused to behave as an admor, even thougll he was a descendent of a falaxnous ihasidie xnaster, This fact, contrasted with his wife's eagerness to be an udmnr, might he taken as an Indication of a marital patter11 in which the husband was passive and iess dorni~ieeringthan his wife.

References Aiphasi, 1. 1974. ILiusidisnz (Hebrew), Tel Aviv: Makriv, Ansky, S. 1926, The Ilybbuk, New Xxk: Rani and Liveright. Appleman, S. 1979. Il'he Jewkh Wo~lzanirz ludcrism. I-licksville, N .Y: Exposition Press. Ashkenazi, S, 1953. The IVomurt irz Jeujish Traclt~innf Hebrew). Ye11 h i v : Israel. Nashevis-Singer, 1, 1959. Sulun in (;:.;orgy New Ymk: Ntjoaday Press. 13erz-Yehuda, N. 1980. The European Witch Craze of the 16th to 17th Centuries A Sociological Perspective,Arnericarz ]ot~rnulr$Sochfogy 86( I f ): 11-3 1. 13iber, M,1946. The Maiden of Ludmir (Hebrm). Rashumol2: 69-76, Kitu, tii. 1979. Sigrnund Frerrd and Rabhi khudah: On a Jewish Mystical Tradition of ""Psychoanalytic" Urealx Interpretation. The b u m a l of P"sycholqicrrrl A t z t h ~ ~ ~ ~ n2(9): logy 443-463. Nih, Y. 1980. The Morcrccan Demon in Israel: The Case of "Evil Spirit" Disease, Etlzos 8(11): 24-30. Nih, Y. III press. The Taming of the Deviants and Bepnd: An Analysis of Uybbuk Possession and Exorcism in Jrsdaistn, Z'he Psychouuzalydc Stt~ljlYofSociety Not~rguig~lon, E. (ed.) 1973. Religion, Aflered States cf CJonsciousrzess and Soclul (Jharzge. Colurnbus, Ohio: Ohio State Ulliversity Press. KorrrguignorI,E. 1976. Possesszon, Corte Madera, Ca: Chandler and Sharp. 130urguign0r1, E. t 98 I. (mimeo) Belief and Experience in Folk EleIigion: Why 90 VVomell Join Possessiorz Trance Cults. Lectt~represented at the Xnterdiscipliir~aryFolkiore/Kefigion Symposium: ""Faith and Ketief:Wl~io State University. Krcloten, R.J. 1982. Xnscriptionai Evider~cefbr Women as Leaders in Ancient Smagogrxes. Eight IVorld Congresf c$]eu~isfi Srudks, pp. 1 4 . Jeillrsalem:'b2rilridUnion of Jewish Studies. Crapanzano,V. 1977. Introduction, Xri Case Sttcdies in Spirit Pl~ssessr'on,tX, Grapanzaxzo and V; Garrison (cds.). New York: John Wiley and Sons. Crapanzaxzo, V, and V, Garrison t 977. Chse Studies in Spirit Possctssion. New York: John Wiley and Sons. Eder, M.D. 1933, The Jewish Phylacteries and Qther Jewish 1titllaI Observances. Itzt-carrrtrticturalburnal ofI"sy~-hoartul~s X 4: 34 1-375, Edgecumbe, K. 11976. So~lzeCommerlts on the Concept of the Negative Oedipal Phase in Girls. Psychoulz~lyl-icStutiy tlf~heChild 3 1: 3 5 4 1.

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Fenicl~el,0. 1946, The Psy~.hourtuEj~tic TIteory of Neurosis, London: Koutiedge & Kegan Paul, Horodetsky, S A . 1944, flasidisrn and ifs T;i;ttcl"ljlzgs(Hebrew). Tei Aviv: Dvlr. Horodetsky, S.A. 1951. Ijlrrsa'disrrz and the Ifasl'ljS (Hebrew). Tel Avis: IMr. Horxzey, K. 1926. The Flight from Womanhood: The Mascuiini~Cornplex In Women, as Viewd by Me11and Women. Pnternulit~nizlfotkrnal r$Psychourralysis 7: 324339. Goodman, F.D. 198 X . The ljxorcislrz ofArzrzeEiese MicheE, Garden City, N.Y.: Doubiedq Greenbaurn, L. 1973. Societal Correlates of Pr>ssessionTrance in Sub-Saharan Africa. Keligictn, Altered Sttltcas o{Cnnsciousness anti Socii~lChartge, E. 13otzrguignon (ed.) Columbia, Ohio: Ohio State University Press. Klepbtlltz, I. 1972. 222e Adwtars ofBelze (Hebrew). Bnei-Brak: Pe'er HaSefer. pJezrrosz's, Psychologicai Issues, Monograph 45/46. Krohn, A. 1978. flysterlu: The liI:'lusi.c-,e New York: International Universities Press. Lacks, R. 1980. IVomeuz alzcl fzldtzlsfrz:Myth, Fiistory iartd S i r w l e . Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday and Go., Inc. London: The HoLaplanclre, J. and J.R, Pontalis. 1 973. Tke Lurguuge of Vsyc;.l?ourzuEysis5 garth Press. Lmis, I.M. 1966. Spirit Possession and Deprivatiors Cults. Mnvz 1: 307-329. I"QssessZ^~n ancl Lewis, I,M. 1971. Ecrslaftc Religion: Rrz Anthri~j>alogtcafStudy c$ S~~irit Shumutzr"sm,Baltimore: Periguin. L ~ ~ b iA.J. n , 1958.A Feminine Moses, I~ternutiunaEfol-rmulnfI"sy~-hourzuE~~sis 39: 535-546. Minlz, J.14. 1968.Legeiacirs clfP1~tsidt;dtsluz. Cl-ticago:University of Chicago Press. Nigal, G, 1983.11ybbuk Stories in W i s h Literature (Hebrew). Jerusaiem: Rt~binMass. Obe~besckere,G. 19770. The Idiom of Demonic Possession: A Case Stttdy. Socirnl Study and Medkine 4: 97- 111. Oesterreich, T K , 1330. I'r~ssessiorz,Dernarziucul arzd Other. P4.Y.: Kichard K. Smith, Inc. Patai, l<.197%. Exorcism and XenogEossia Alnong the Safed Kabbalists. lo~lmtrlofAmericirn 9 l : 823-835. I.i,lk-l~r~ Sadan, D. 1938,From the Region cfClzt'Mhood (Hebrew). Tei Aviv: Davar, Schollem, G. 1971. Gilgrrl. Erzcj~clopediaJtidczicu, 7: 573-577. Jerusalem: k t a r Pubiishing House. Tversky, "17, 1949. The Muiden of14udtuzir(Hebrew). Jerusaiern: Mosad Riaiik. "Jeith, I. 1965. ILiysteria: The Hr'story o f u Disease, Chicago: University of Chicagc) Press. Walker, S.S. 1972. C:ere?rzortial Sfjirir hssessiouz itz Africa alzcl Afro-Amer-ic~,Leiden: E.G. Nrifl. Borowski, M, and E. Werzug. 19662,L@ is Wirh People: The Culttkre ({the Shtetl, New York: Schocken Books.

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Hypnosis and Trance Induction in the Surgeries of Brazi Sidney M. Greenfield

This chapter documents the surgical procedures performed by Brazilian sgiritist healer-mediums, during which both healer and patient enter into an altered state of consciousness, Atthough the healer enters this state with public ritual, the patient, Sidney Greenfietd argues, is afso in an altered state of conscir>usness,precipitated without ritual by intensely held befiefs about the power of rl-re healer and the positive outcome of:the surgery. -EditorsTornmelat

Introduction

In Part X of this paper I describe several surgical procedures performed by JosC Carlos Kibeiro, Edsan Queiroz and Antdnio de Oliveira Rios, three of: the many Brazilian Spiritist"eaXer-mediums X have observed and studied since the early 1980s. What is unusual, if nctt spectacular, about these surgeries, at least from the perspective of:Western science anci medicine, is that tlze lzealer-nneciitlm actually cuts into the flesh of the patients, extracting human tissue without either anesthesia or antisepsis."n spite of this, most patients experience little if any pain, bleed bat minimally if at all, and few if any cases of infections or other complitsttions have been repczrted.4 m i l e performing these surgeries the healer-medium are iin an altered spate of consciousness (ASC) wl~ichthey enter during a brief ritual usually participated in by their fc>llc)wersand supyczrters, The patients, I shall a r p e , afscz are in an ASC. Wowver, there are no rituals in which they participate during which they can be seen to enter a trance spate. Fartl~ermore,the healer-mediums do not consciausly

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induce them into ASCZs, as for example do western surgeons, physicians, and other therapists who use hypnosis in treating patients. They participate iin no formal rittxals during which they can be seen tcr enter an ASC. In Part If of the paper, after briefly summarizing the results of studies of hypnosis that help adeast in part to account for what is described in Part I, X outline, as an hypotl~esis,a. model explaining haw speciffc aspects of Brazilian culture and social structure combine to mcrve individuals, when presented with appropriate cues in identifiable social contexts, from what may be considered their ordinary spates of conscio~xsnessinto AASCs."

The I-fealers and the Surgeries

The first healer-medium whose surgeries X describe is fcssk Carlos Kibeiro. Wlzen X first met him in 1982 1was living in the city of Fortaleza, capitat of the northeastern Brazilian state of CearB, I first learned of l-xispresence in the city from an article in the newpaper. After reading the story, I went to the address given where X introdrtced myself$my wife and my daughter to lzitn. I told him of my interest in his work and asked if I might obserw him, His repty was that not ont-y was I welcttme to see what he did, but that I wcruld assist him. Without another wcrrd he placed a tray in my lzands on which there were a. few scalpels, several pairs of: surgical scisscrrs, a few pairs of tweezers of assorted sizes, a syringe, some cotton, some gauze, adhesive tape and a glass of water. We then turned to a poorXy dressed, dark skinned man who lzad been waiting with his wife.6 The woman started to tell the healer about her mate" problem with his vision. As she did so Josk Carlos directed l-ris eyes away from her towards the ceiling, We tlzen mumbled some words X was not able to understancl ancl began to slzake. He was entering into a self-induced trance state, An instant later he interrupted the w m a n abruptly to ask a question and to issue a command, We did this with an autl~oritynot previously demonstrated, ancl lze spoke in a. sharp accent tlzat contrasted with the soft tone he usually used. It sounded to me as if he were a native speaker of Spanish trying to communicate in Portuguese. He asked the couple if they believed in Gocl. Before they could answer, lze picked up a scalpet from the tray in my hand and, while ordering them both to think of God, plunged it with his right hand into the man" left eye, under the lid. Wit11 a. series of jabbing and twistitlg movements he slid the instrument down tznder the eye. As he did this he substituted the back of a pair of tweezers taken from the tray with his left hand fbr the scalpel, m i l e dcting tl-xishe eased the eye forwarcl, tilting it out of its socket. He then scraped the lens of-the protruding eye with the scalpel still hetd in his right hand. More than menty people-mostXy friends, former patients, and patients to be seen by lzim later-lzad crowded into the small, hot, poorly ventilated room to watch the healer. Sexral of them gasped as the scatpel was thrust into the eye, and one wcjman was unable to stifle a scream. My wife, who had been placed di-

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rectfy behind the healer, felt faint. As the blood left her face, JosC Carlos, though ~ ~ n a bto l esee hel; moved his left hand quickfy in her direction, lcavit~gtlze tweezers dangling momentarily from its place tznder the protruding eye. As he did so he again mumbled samething I could not understand. As the blood returned to her cheeks, the lzealcr secured his grip on the dangling tweezers. After a few more scraping motions with the scalpel still held in his right hand he slid the twezers, held securely again in his left hand, back to the top of the eye under the lid where he had first introduced the scalpel. As lze covered the eye with gauze and some adhesive tape, he asked the man if he had felt any pain. Ye>his negative reply the pa"Eient added that he had been aware of all that had happened, The prcrcedure I estimated had lasted a little more than a minute. Issk Carlos then wrcste a prescription that seemingly flc>wedfrom the pen itself, He looked at neither the pen nor the pad but instead off into space as he wrcrte. As he handed it to the samewhat startled wcrman, he quickly listed things tlze patient w a s to do ancl not do, and foods lze was to eat or avoid. He then dismissed the patient telling him that he wcruld be well. The healer then turned trt the next patient on whom he also performed eye surgery, using the same scalpel and tweezers that lzad been returned to the tray in my hands without being cleaned. Diagnosis, surgery, bandaging, writing of a prescription for post-operative medication, and the dictaticrn of a list of behavioral restrictions and a special diet took only a few minutes, As the morning progressed, Issk Carlos alternated between the performance of other surgery-the removal of several cysts and tumors-and the writing of prescriptions that were to cure patients or prepare tlzem for return visits and possible surgery at a later date.

The second healer whose surgeries X describe is Edson Cavalcante de Queiroz who when X met lzirn w a s a resident of Kecife, the capital of the neighboring northeastern state trf Pernambuccr. In contrast with josk Carlos whtr had attended the university but never completed his course wcrrk and Antbnio de Oliverira Rios, the tlzird lzealer to be discussed below who has bat a first grade eclucation, Edscrn was a trained and licensed physician, a graduate of the medical school of the Federal Uniwrstty of Pernambuco.7 He earned his livelihood by providing medical services for a fee at a private clinic specializing in gynecology and surgery. Away from the clinic, at a center he founded In honor of his spirit guide, he performed Spiritist healing and surgeries, The first surgical procedrzre I present was done on a p u n g woman who had a grc~wthon her right shorzlder. She had been brotzght to Edson by her mrrther who had heard stories about patients not experiencing pain when he operated on irrational at the thouglzt of the possible them. Fatirna became ~~ncontrotlably pain she might experience should a doctor try to remow the growth on her shoufder surgicafly.8

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As the healer apprctacbed her, the prctfessional nurse who regularly assisted handed lzirn a scalpel still wrapped in its sterile packaging. The patient, seated on a small operating table, did not mot~enor did she make a sound when he tznwrapped the instrument and then thrust it into her shoufder, A small trickle of blood appeared tlzat stopped after being patted with a piece of gauze. Fatirna did not react when Edson next put dc~wnthe scalpel and jabbed a pair of scissors into the opened w u n d . She did not Ainch as he pufIed at the growth first with the scissors and then with lzis t~nwashedfingers' which he inserted into the opening. After tearing loose and remtwing the infected material Edson handed it tcr a pahl-rolgist who prepares a report on all of the healer's cases. Tile patient meanwhile sat motionlessly on the surgical table. The healer then ptaced a piece of adhesive tape over the open w u n d saying that there was no need for suturing-""The nurse completed the bandaging and then directed Fatirna, assisted by her mother-who stood at her side throughout the prctcedureto the other side of' the room where slze was given a glass of special water to drink. Edsc-tnthen wrote a prescription which, as had been the case with Jose Carl o ~appeared , t~ Row from the pen. He looked at neither his hand nor the paper. The entire procedure hha taken no more than a minute or two." A second patient seen by the healer the same evening had been suffering horn sinus prctbtems and a perennially strrffed nose, To treat her a pair of scissors were driven up each of her nostrils, deep into the sinus cavity.I2To demonstrate that in spite of the apparent lack of asepsis there wotzld be no infecdon, Edson asked a bystander to spit on the gauze he wrapped around one of the pairs of scissors before driving it into tlze sinus carvity The lzealer regularfy asked those observing him to introduce germs and other contaminants into open wcjunds. Earlier that same evening he had jammed several syringe needles (about two to two and one-lzalf inclles in length) into the back of a woman who could scarcely walk. She had made the journey to the Center on crutches assisted by her relatives, Edson fc3rcefuEully inserted the needles in a line about two to three inches apart, along lzer spinal column, As he ptaced the final one just above the base of the spine, he ordered the pathologist to bring him a test tube-to collect the spinal Auid that that was starting to Row, When the tube was about one-third full, lze slapped the patient's back forceft~llyand rapidly removed tlze needles. As he dismissed the someMThat startled woman-telling her that she wotzld be finehe handed the test tube to the pathologist and ordered a complete analysis.I3 On another occasion Edson remtt-ved a growth of film from the eye of a poor, elderly diabetic woman. She said that she had come to him, rather than going to a cttnventlonal doctor, nctt only because he charges no ke," but more importantly because she feared that she miglzt not survive the clzemical anesthesia used in hospitals by ccrnxntional surgeons. As the nurse directed her to lie on the table, Edson told her to think of God, Then, as lze secured the end of tlze growth with a pair of tweezers lzeld in lzis left hand, the healer ordered her not to mc>vethe eye while he wrked. Snipping at the film with a pair of scissors in his blood-stained right hand, he explained that

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this procedure takes between 30 and 40 minutes when done in the operating roam of a hospital. It took him about 25 seconds. Before starting the procedure, hc~wever,Edson invited a visitor to assist him by holding the patient" eye lids open while he cut out the growth, After handing the excised tissue ta the pathologist, the lzealer ordered the stranger to spit into the eye. This was to shc~wthat in spite of the apparent absence of asepisis there wotzld be no infection.15 As the nurse bandaged the eye the healer, tooking elsewhelre, wrote a prescription that he handed to the patient after she drank the special (fluidiffed) vater given to each patient after treatment. As she left she told me that she had experienced no pain anci was confident that she would be well, The final surgery to be described was performed on a distinguished looking man in his sixties wearing a weU tailored three-piece suit. His card indicated that he was a physician with his own clinic in Ccjpacabana, an elite section of Rio de Janeiro. He lzad a large banclage on the left side of his neck. When Edson removed it, he exposed an infected, festering growth. One of those assisting, who happened to be a physician, could not hold back the question on the mind of all present: ""Wow could he (the patient), a trained cloctor, permit sometl~inglike this to go on so long without treating it?" Unmoved, Edson ordered tlze patient to take off his jacket and lie down on the table. As he did, tlze healer picked up a scalpel anci pierced the wound which he secured with a pair of t-tveezers. He lifted as he cut. lPJben blood started to spurt, he put down the scalpel to place pieces of gauze, handed to him by the nurse, over tlze wound. He then told those observing that he had permitted the bleeding in order to show that this was human blood and not a trick, as has been reported about ""psyclzic'7zealers in the Philippines who use the blood of a cl-ticken anci do not actually open the skin of their patients. When the bleeding subsided, Edson picked up the scafpel and starred to cut again. Cutting and stopping to control tlze bleeding, tlze growth was about lzalf rerncjved when he paused for questions. During surgeries Edson often stc>pyed for questions which he answered with s h c ~sermons t on Syiritist themes. When he finished spea&ng he turneci back to the patient, cutting away at the growth with renewed vigor. Within minutes it was removed, leaving a raw slightly concave wcjund. More gauze was applied to control. the bleeding, The excised flesh was lzanded to the pathologist. Tlze open wound then was covered with an ointment, although the healer said that it really was not necessary. A bandage, which the healer told the patient could be removed within a few days, was placecl over the area. It will heal anci tl-terewill be na scar, Edson promised, Before he left the room I asked the patient to tell me what he had experienced. In a soft, dignified voice he said that he had felt the cutting, but had experienced no pain. Statit~gthat he now felt fine, he added that he was relieved that it was over. I asked him why he, a d ~ j c t ~had r , come to Edson and not gone to a conl.entional physician when the growth first developed. With his head erect and a

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straight look he responded, as w u f d most believers in Spiritist doctrine, that it was because he wanted to get at tlze source of the problem. Conventional doctors we know, he said with ccrnviction, only treat symptc>msand work at the surface. If you want to get at the cause y t u go to a SpirX"Est healer; and since Edson is the best, Ize lzad waited unttf he was able to see Izirvr in Recife. A year later I had the opportunity to visit the doctor at his penthc~usehrrrne on Avenida Atlhntica overlooking Copacabana beach in Ria de Janeiro, He appeared to be, and said that he was, in excellent Izealth. He lzad had no reaction to the surgery and when he showed me his neck f ccruld find no trace of a scar,

In contrast with Edson, Jose Carlos, and most Spiritist healers who work in large urban centers, AntBnio de Oliveira Rios treated patients in the small tow11 of Pdlmelo, about f 00 kilometers from the national capital of Brasilia in the it~terior state of Goias.I6 kmi-litera&, with only a first-grade educafon, and a bricaayer by trade, Antbnio diagnosed illnesses from photographs brought to hirn by patients. Each Saturday Large crowds tined up outside the Ceater waiting to see him. Each bwught with them a photograph of themselves, or a friend or relative-the sick person did not have to be present. When their turn came the healer w u f d took at the piaure and after a few seconds write, in an almost illegible, child-like script-that had to be rewritten for the patient (or his reyresentatix) by his wife who assisted him-a diagnosis and a course of treatment that often combined medications, diet, and a visit to the Center for surgery. fn one of the surgeries f witnessed, an educated, sophisticated, business man, who had traveled bp plane from SBo PauXo, had his strtmach opened by the healer." The man was tying a gurney outside the Center when Antt~nio,already in trance, approached him. Pushing a cart on which surgical instruments were laid out, the healer, waring gloves, a white jacket, and a mask, picked up a scafgel tlzat Ize brought towards the patient. Before Ize could begin to cut, however, the man engaged him in ccrnxrsation, asking about the procedure and other matters, The l-realer responded and before long the twct were deep in conversation. AntBnio, however, did not stop the surgery*As he clzatted with the man on the gurney, with a hundred or more c~bserverswatching him, he thrust the scalpel into the man" chest, below the ribs, sliding it down some six to eight: inches. He then took a pair of scissors with which he spread the opening he had made apart. Blood flowed and an artery soon resembled a fountain. As AntBnio placed gauze inside the opening, eventually stopping the Raw of blood, the patient, seemingly obfiviaus to what was being done to hirn, continued Izis conversation wit11 the healer. After a mintzte or so of cutting, Antcinio left to work on another patient, learsing the business man with his stomach open on the table in the street. Not bothered in the least, the patient, after bencling over to look at the open wound, put his head back and quietly dosed his eyes. A few minutes later Antdnio" wife came out the dctor with a needle and surgical tlzread in her hancls, As she sutured closed the opening, which was bleeding

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very little now, the patient opened his eyes and engaged her in conversatictn as he had Antanin, Wlzen she completed her task, covering the sutured area with gauze and tape, she helped the patient, who still was chatting with her, to stand up, In front of the somewhat startled crowd she wrapped a bandage arorund his chest and stomach and instructed him to put on his shirt. As he did so, he informed me that had had felt no discomfort, as he had not the previous time Antcinio had operated on him, We then toctk out his business card and invited me to visit htzn in SBo Piulo to follow his progress. The final patient whose surgery I describe also was pla~edrrn a gurney rrutside the Clenter, He told me prior to being ~ e a t e dthat he had been the victim of a bullet wound some tea years previously ancl still had no use of his legs. Antcinio started by injecting something into the tzpper part of his back." He then tc>oka scalpel from his instrument cart and made an incision some 10 tcr 12 inches in length and abctut one-hatf inch deep atong the spinal column, He patted the small amount of blood that Rowecl with some gauze. He tl-ten took a pair of scissors and jammed them at an angfe into the open m u n d . He tcrok another pair of scissors and used them to hammer the first pair deeper so that they coufd be h e a d hitting against the bone. After a pause lze repeated the procedure. Antcfnio then took from the lower shetf of the instrument cart what appeared tcr be a rotary, oor buzz saw. The people in the street moved closer to watch what was to come next when he connected the instrument to an extension card handed to him throtzgh an open window at the side of the buifding. The patient meanwhile remained motionless, apparent& unaware of the saw. Antbnio turned on the instrument and inserted its cl-turningblade into the open wound, rtlnning it along the spinal ccrfumn. A small amount rrf blood spurted up as the opening in the patient's back was enlarged. The onlookers gasped. The patient, however, did not react. After running the blade up and down tlze patient's back a few times, Antdnio turned off the saw, disa3nnected it from the extension cord, remoxd the blade, and returned the parts to the shelf on the cart, Without stopping to look at the patient, he puslzecl the cart hurriedly through the door into the btlilding, stopping it in front of what was to be his next patient. The man lying quietly on the gurney in the street with his back open was left unattended, A few minutes later Anthnio's wife exited tlze building with a needle ancl surgicat thread in her hands. She sutured closed the patient" back and cowred the area with a bandage. Before X could get to him severaf of the onlookers questioned lzitn about what he had experienced. He lzad felt no pain and was only slightly una3mfcrrtable when the saw blade entered his back, As he lefl with the friends who had helped him travel to the healer he gave me his address in SBo h u l o so that I could visit lzirn on my next visit to that city

The Patients and Trance States in Efrazaian Cdtrtre Having described a small sample of the s o m e d a t unusual, if not spectacular, surgeries I have obsemed and video taped otver the past decade, procedures that if for no other reason than that the patients survive, let alone get better, clzalleng

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some of the basic truths of Western science and medicine, I turn now to their explanation. The question I address in tlze second part of: this paper is: How do we explain or account for the fact that patients on whom surgeries are performed by Brazilian Spiritist heater-mediums who do not use antisepsis or anesthesia, and who often not only do not wash their lzands between procedures bat deliberately intrc>ducecontaminants into open wotznds, experience little trr no pain, bleed b ~ ~ t minimally and rarely if ever bemme infected or develop other complicatians?'" The answer I propose starts from the assumption tlzat tlze patients are in an ASC when surgery is performed on them. During the nineteenth century, it must be remembered, after the Marquis de Puysegurk ref nement and elaboration of Franz Anton Mesmer" hypnotic tlzerapy, and before the introduction of chemical anesthesia, we have documentation of numerous successful surgeries by Elliotson (Hitgard and Hilgard 1975:4,63) and Esdaile (1"375[ f 8501) that share at least some ofthe features of what has been described above. And today we have documented cases of surgeries perft~rmedin hospitals on patients in a state trf hypnotic t r a n a that also show results ccrmparable in part with what has been described above.20 Ernest L. b s s i (1986) has proycrsed what thus far is perhaps the most ccrmprehensive, though controtrersial, theory of the psychophysiology of the relationship b e ~ e e ntrance states and heating, Using informa"e-iontheory as a metaphor? he has developed a communications model as a way arouncl tlze Cartesian mindbody dualism. He proycrses thinking of the human organism as a ccrmmtznicatlon system in which by means of a series of translations for transducrions) information is conveyed from the mind to the several bodily systems-tlze autonomic nervotzs system, the endocrine system, the immune system, and the neuropeptide system-and back, with each system encoding what is received from the others. Information vital ta its own knctiontng and to that of tlze total organism then is constantly flc~wingfrom one bodily system to the others. Information, Rossi hypothesizes, is transmitted and then encoded in each system tlncler specific conditions related to the tlnique experiences of the individual. This learned inhrmation, which itself at times may precipitate symptomatic conditions, may be accessed for treatment, Since the mind (and the cultturat content to which it lzas been exposed) in tlzis kamework is a part of the communications network, it can be used to obtain information about illness, the conditions under which it was encoded, etc. It also can convey infcjrmation that can be used to m o d i e the situation resulting in tlze possible disappearance of the symptoms, Rossi proposes hypnosis, the ASC his associate Milton Erickson reintrodtzced into Weskrn psychotherapy and used sa effectively, as a means of accessing what he calls state dependent learning-the unique conclitions under which the information associated with an illness (that may be causing it) first was encoded. In trance a patient often can access, through translations from the bodily system tlzat is malft~nctioning,information that can help in treatment, Accessing state dependent memory may be, as Rossi (1986:55) praposes, ""the ccrmmon denominator betrtveen traditional Western medicine and the holistic, shamanstic, and

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spiritistic approaches to healing that depend upon highly specialized cultrrraf belief systems, world views, and frames of reference." Acccrrding to Brazilian Spiritists, however>the surgeries descriked here w r e done not by the heaters, but rather by the spirits of Xgnatius of LrpXa, Dr. Adolph Frit.~-,, fir. %cardo Stams and otl-ters. Spiritism teaches that there are two worlds, or pltanes of reality, the one in which W live and another inhabited by spirits, the assumed vital force in the universe. In seeking moral advancement individual spirits are believed to return periodically to the material world, reincarnating as human beings to learn lessons (see Cavalcanti 1983; Greenfieid 1987; Greenheld and Gray 1988; Kardec n.d,), Humans, according to this view, are spirits incarnate temporarily in a material body. Spiritists a i s ~belie= that communication and contact are possible betwen the material m r l d and the world of the spirits. They further mailltain that spirits in the other plane can return for short periods to this worfd thrc)ugh the bodies of special individuals who are called mediums. JosC Carlos Ribeiro, Edson Queiroz and Antcinio de Oliveira %i>sare mediums, special mediums able to receive and incorporate spirits who in previous incarnations were trained as and practiced as physicians, surgeons and heaters. In Syiritist parlance they are k n o ~ ~asnhealer-mediums, Using their bodies the spirits of disincarnate physicians and heaters-wishing to advance spiritually without reincarnating-are able to return to tlze material world to do the good works (cl-tarity)of treating the sick (see Greenfield 1987; McGregor 1967; IPenshaw 1969). Dr. Adcrlph Fritz, a German physician who is believed to have last been incarnate during the First World Wax; for example, works tl-trougl-tEclson Queiroz, fir. Ktcardo Stams, another German of World Mdar E vintage, treats patients through the healer-medium Antbnlo de Oliwira Rios,2bhile Xgnatius of Loyola ministers to tlze ill tlzrougl-t tlze meciiumslzip of f o d Carlos Ribeira. To receix their spirit guides, Jose Carlos, Edson, Antcfnio and other healermediums go into trance at the beginning of each treatment session, usually in the presence of associates who assist them.22 Spiritist writers, and mast obsemers, go into great detail describing and anaiyzing h t mediums ~ go into trance and the changes that fake place in tllern when their spirits arrive, Writit~gabout another part of the world Micl-tele Steyhen (19893218) provides yet another example of what to me is misyltaced attention. ""X Western techniques, such as hypncrtism . . . ,"she writes, the patient is usually encouraged to experience an altered state of coasciot~sness (told to relax, for example), while guided by the suggestions and instructions of the therapist. A contrast, whiclr I think has so far gone unnc?ticed,is that in shamanism and other traditional healing techniques, it is the healer, not the patient, who induces an altered state In Ilirnself, wherein he experiences the healing Imagery. Focusing on the healer and not the patient may be appropriate for symbolic analysis; it is not if we wish to understand the psychophysioiogy of the healing process.

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Most of the patients treated by Brazilian Sptritist heaters also are in an ASC when beit~goperated on or otherwise treated." "iritist lzeafer-mediums and other believers, howewr, deny-crften vehemently-that patients are in trance when being treated." They say this, X believe, because no one is consciously aware of hypnotizing, or otherwise trying to induce patients into ASCs, and unlike the mediums, patients participate in no ritual during which they may be seen to enter a trance state, Xf patients are in an ASC when being treated, however, and this helps to explain the unusual if not spectacular results achieved by the healers, how do they enter a trance state without an i n d ~ ~ c t i oprocedure? n The answer, I suggest, is to be found in Brazilian culture which has patterned certain cantexts in which individtzals, in response to a range of cues, learn to enter trance statesa2"To understand how this works let me turn briefly first to some of the basic features of hypnosis and then to Brazilian culture and a hypothesi~edmodel of how it patterns trance indrtction. Hypnosis, the ASC that has been best studied scientiffcatfy, refers to two interdependent features: I f a state of heightened suggestibility said to resemble steep; and 2) the procedure for its indrtction. "Hypnotic suggestibility." refers to both a trait or capaciv and the state in which an individual accepts, as true, with varying degrees of intensity or receptivity, informatictn, presented in a particular way and under particuf ar canditions, The procedure for an individual entering an hypnotic ASC centers on the establishment of a special relationship between the hypnotist and a subject or client-""hyynotic rapportmy' Two other traits also appear to be critical: l ) fantasy proneness of the subject-his or her capacity ttr imagine and betieve what is imagined; and 2) the capacity for total attenticrn (absorption), Hypnotic indrtction then centers on the establislzment of a special relationslzip between a person being hypnotized and a hypnotist and it w r k s best on people who are fantasy prone and can concentrate (focus) their attention. Let me begin with the importance of f-antasy-prone subjects for hypnotic induction. Brazilian culture, in contrast with OUT cwn, for example, teaches, reinforces, and rwards fantasy. Children (and aduits) who claim to see the Virgin Mary, Saint Francis, some otl~ersaint, or other supernatural being not only are not punished or taken to a therapist-as they wcruld be in North America and Western Europe-----butare rewarded and held up for praise, Those who claim to ""recivr" a spirit, whetlzer a doctor from tlze past like Adolplz Fritz or Kicardo Stams, or a deity from Africa such as Iemanja, Oxalfa, etc. as in Candomble, Xango or Batuque, or the spirit of a former slave f a preto velha) or an Indian (a caboclo) as in tmzbanda (Brow11 1986; Greenfield and Gray 1989; Greenfieid ancl Prust 1990; Pressel, 19741,not only are betiexd, but their hetp is sought by others who treat them deferentially and with respect. Participants in the Spirttist tradition, or in one of the several Afro-Brazilian religions, learn to go into trance ancl to betieve that they, or others arotznd them, are pcrssessed. And since most Brazilians, from just about at1 geographicat regions, ciasses and segments of the popu-

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l a t h are exposed to and participate to some degree in these alternative religious (and healix-rg traditions-including "Popular" Catlzolicism), we may conclude that Brazilians in generat, like good hypnotic subjects in North America and Mirzstern Europe, are able to imagine and believe what they imaginea26 Besides creating a society composed of a large number of Fdntasy prone individuals, Brazilian culture alsr:, patterns sociaf relationships in vays that share elements similar to that betwen hypnotist and client. I refer here to social retationships of patronage and clientage tl-rat have long characterized the society (see Greenfield 1968, 1972, 1977, 1979; Hutchinson 1966; Roniger 1981 , 1987, 1990; Striclcon and Greenfield 1972). Many ofthe new urban religious leaders function as patrons to tlzeir client-foll c ~ w r s(see Br~twn1986; Greenfield 1990; Greenfield and Prust 19901." They fill a social and economic void, prc~vidingneeded services, as the society has urbanized and modernixd, The spirits-andlor deities-they receive have come to be viewed as supernatural patrons who validate and inf force tlze social acceptance of their mediums. Desperate tzrban dients then willingly accept the help of the new patrons. They place their trust in the religious leaders and in return far the help given them are willix-rg to do almost anything asked of tl-rem,.They obey every stzggestion, not to speak of command, made by their religious leader, healer-patrctn, The patron-client relationship in urban Brazil then shares many of tlze features of that between successful hypnotist and client. G>untfessBrazilians then are fantasy prone and sincerely believe that the supernatural~and other entities they imagine both are real and will help them in tlzeir daily life. They learn to enter trance easily and ASCs are a part of their ordinary life. Furthermore, they have learned ttr trust their patron, who often is a medium for hetping spirits andlor dieties. Like clients in a hypnotist-client refationship, deyendents in a patron-client relationship trust their yatmn and willingly accept as true and act positively in resyclnse to what be or she tells them. Therefore, although no formal inductictn procedures are used by reltigictus leaders and Izealers, their client-dependents, who have been socialized to recognize and acknc~wledgeASCs, and tcr enter them, o&en go effortlessly into trance when they are in the presence of a JosC Carlos Ribetro, an Edson Queirctz, an Antbnio de Oliveira Rios or other healer who is knovvla to be a medium for spirits who are betiexd to be able to heal them and perhaps alst:, hetp them with a range of their other problems, problems they have no other way to resolve, We may conclude fmm this that Brazilians, in the absence of: formal induction procedures, tend to enter trance states easily, tzsually in response to cues not consciously intended, by a religious leader andlor healer. And although the fatter may not be aware of what lze or she is doing, the result may well be tl-rat ydtiets become receptive to stzggestions that enable them to access their bodily systems and processes in ways they could nett do in an ordinary state of mnsdousness. They may be able, as are hypnotized subjects in the laboratory or clinic, to controt pain, after the flow of their blood-to slcw down bleeding or speed it up to heal mtznds more rapidly-and probabty alsct access spate dependent memories that may enable

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them to communicate changes, as Rossii hypothesizes, that resuf"cn their being able to heal a variety of symptomatic conditions. Unaware of what they are doing o r what is happening to them, f wc>uld propose that large numbers of hntasy prc3ne clients of Brazilian religious leaders andlctr healers are induced into trance states by the mere presence of a povuerk~lpatron who ofien also is the medium for a powerful supernatural. Once in trance the client-patient responds to suggestions as d o hypnotized subjects, The difference is that in Brazil there is n o need for a formaf induction procedure, Given the cultt~ralassumptions and the socialhation process, relating t c ~a patron in certain contexts i n d u e s the dependent into a trance state in which he o r she accepts as real, and acts on, the suggesticzns of his for her) patron, m e r e the patron is a. ilealex; much of what l~appensduring a. successf~tllzypnotic inducltion takes place with the patient demrrnstrating some of the extreme behavioral responses we are just beginning tznderstand.

I. Revised version of a paper presented at a symposium on "Hypnois, Trance and Healat the 89th Annual Meeting of the American Anthropoing in Cross-Ct~lturatPersl~ective,"" logical Association, New Orleans, LA, November, 28-Decerx~ber2,1990, 2, Spiritism or Kardecisrn is a possessic)n-trance for ""mediumistic"') religion that is widespread in 13razil (see Cavalcallti 1983; Greenfieid 19887; Greenfieid and Gray 1989; I-less 1991; Wenshaw 1969). 3. This ctlntrasts the practices of the Brazilian healer-mediums with those of the Inure celebrated healers from the Philippines who often do not cut but rather appear to open the bodies of their patients with their hands. The Philippine tradition often has beexi referred to as psychic surgery, The Brazilians discused below do acrtxal surgery, with instruments, as opposed to psychic surgery-altl~ottgh at times I have dso seen bodies opened withorrt the use of scaipels, scrssor~or other Instrtrments, I have videotaped rnost of the Nrazifian Spiritist healer-mediums I have obsemed and have shown the tapes to physicians, surgeons and others kmitiar with surgical procedures. They assured me unanimously that the bodies of the patients had been entesed wrgicaly. Any reader who doubts this is weicorne to view my tapes. 4, This is rxot to say that pain is never experienced, excessive bleeding never occrrrs and there are never infections. Instead it is to say that over the period of a decade of observations X have noted few expressiom of pain, even after deep incisions were made In tender areas, relatively little bleeding, and have been able to find very few co~npfaintsof i~lfections caused by the procedures of healer-meditrms, 5. The ASCs of the patients also are to be seen in the tapes. 6. Patieilts treated by Spiritist i~ealer-mediumscome from ail sectors of the population, Although I have newr examined their compositio~lsystematically, based on my i~lformat observations over a t O year period they appear to he representative of the genera1 population of Brazil, except that they are consideral-tlyolder. In contrast with the large number of 13razilians under the age of 18, most of the patients seeking heiy from healer-mediurrrs are considerably older. Btrt there are rich and poor, Black and white in rxrrxnbers that rczrrghly approximate the percentages of these categories in the general population. Wllilc sorne of the patients are Spiritist practitioners, and otllers ad~nitto being Interested In andlor

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knowing something about Spiritism, the ma,jority claim they are not Syiritists, but rather Itotxan Catholics, Prc~testants,etc. Many patier~ts,especially the more affluent ones, turn to heaters only after unsuccessful atternps to obtain reIief from conventional medical sources. The poor, however, xnost of wholx caxinot afford medical treatment, often turn to a healer-medium when they first develop symptoms, 7.1 use the past tense because Edson, as he was known to his patients and supporters, was killed in October 1 1992j (see AQC, Wll, 2 1 1-21). 8. Prior to seeing any patients Edson had entered a trance state to the reading of a passage from The Scripturewas interpreted by Allan Kardec-by a close associate at%&remained in an ASC until the last patient left the Genter several hours later. "3 EEdsox~does not wear gloves when performing surgery and he does not wash his hands after each surgey. He will not wash his hands until he has attended all of the patients to be seen 01%a given night. To the best of our kr-towledge,however, no cases of infection, or other post-surgical. cornytications have been reported thus far by any of his patients. 10.1 am unable to generalize as to the use of suturing. At times I have seen wounds opened E7y healer-mediums sewn closed whik at other times they were simpiy bandaged and left to heal, Some healers used sutures more oftell than others. Antiinio, as we shall see betow, had alt surgeries sutured closed; hut this was because he ctairned not to be doing the heating. He simply opened -LIPthe patient so that the spirits col~ldcure them. Then his assistants sutured closed the woul~dshe opened, Edson, Tusk Carlos and others who claimed to heal when they operated, srrtured at times and not at others independent of the size or depth of the incision. I I. Fatirna was her usual orrtgoitrg, vivacious self when X saw her orz Friday morning when she returned to the Spiritist Center to 11m the bandag changed by the nurse, She restated her fear af doctors and the pain they inflict and expressed her reiief in no Ionger having to be concerned about the grcjwth on her shoulder. 12. Inserting scissors, or more ofien needles, into the body of a patient is a treatment that Edson often uses. While in trance he explains that the procedure itsdf is not a cure; the needles andiar scissors instead direct energy from the si7irituaI plane that will dernaterialize ggrwths and other foreign objects itr the patient" body thus effecting the cure. 13, In another patient, who had colxplained to me earlier of a problem with her aderxoids, Edson thrust needles into her throat. As the yclrxng woman sat motionlessly and did not utter a sound, the healer jammed eight needles, one at at time, into her throat onIy to pull them out with equal force a few seconds later. When X asked the startled patierzt if she had felt any pain, she at first did not answer. The heater meanwllile kidded me, saying that she did not understand my Portuguese. F%ea she realized what was kayyening, she apoiogized explaining that she could not hear in her right ear. Immediately the healer thrust two additional needles into the ear. Flihen he removed them the shocked wornan claimed that she corxtd now hear the qtrestions X was askiiag. 14, Ail healing is done by Syiritists as charity (see Greellfield 1987; McGregor l%?; Kensl~aw1969). 15.111 similar surgeries he had others run their finger acmss the botto~xof their shoe and then rub it into the open w u n d . 16, I also use the past tense because Antcinicr also was kiHed in 1990 after being attacked by bees while fishing. 17. In contrast with Jose Cartos, Edson, and the other Spiritist healers with whom I have worked, Antbnio, as X observed in footnote (3, said that he did not actt~allyoperate on the patients. He claimed only to cut them open, The therapelxticai procedure that bene-

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fired them was performed by one ofthe spirits (see belotu) who worked with him. His wife or an assistant then strtured the ~rttier~t while Arltbnio went o& almost in assembly-line fashion, cutting open other patients. For treatment patients were placed or1 strrgical tables in the several small roorrrs of the center. Additional patients were ptaced orz gurnt.ys and rolfed orxt uxlder an extensiorz of the roof on the concrete side walk that faced cmto the dirt road that ran thrt~ughthe town. Qn an average Sunday and Morzday, when Antbrzio operated, there were usuajly several hundred people standing in the road waiting to be treated or to observe the surgeries. 18. X was unable to learn what was in the syringe. 19. This, of course, is an overgeneralizatiua, Some patients, as we have seen above, do bleed, at times profitsely. Others occasionally feel excruciating pain ((see, for exampie, Greenfield and Gray 19889) and stiIl others develop post-surgical comylicatiorzs. Given the nurrrber of surgeries perhrmed by the healer-mediulrrts, hundreds at each session, those reacting negativeiy are srrch a tiny fraction of the total that the majority effect calls orxt for explanation, 20. At the symposit~mitz New Orleans wl~enthis paper was first presented a videotape was shown of a hysterecto~xyperformed on a patient who bad been induced into hypnr>tic trance. On the same videotape X showed some of the procedures described in Part I of this paper. 21. Drs. Fritz and Stams, in the tradition of xnodern medicine are said to be assisted thy a team of disincarnate healers each of tul~omtakes over the rnedium's body wl~entheir specialty is required, On each team there is said to be an anesthetist and someone providing asepses. This is the explanatiorz for the absence of pain, Infectiorzs and other cumpiications. 22. The medirxxn I~irnself,or some member ofthe group, wilt begin a brief ritual by first invoking God and asking His blessing and cooperation and then appaling to Jesus Christ-who is t ~ oseen as the son of God, but as a great healer and one af the xszost adt vanced spirits ever to appear on this planet. Someone then reads a passage from the scriptures-as interpreted by Allan Kardec (1980). During the reading the healer-mediutn goes Into trance incorporating the spirit who then takes over the sessiorz. 23. This first was brought to my attention by a group of stage magiciatls to whoxn I sl~otucdvideotapes of the srrrgeries described above at a magician" convention, While confirming that the healers really were cutting into tlze flesh of the patients-and that there was no sleight ctf hand-they pointed orrt the signs that indicated that the patients aiso were in a trance state that in their words resembled llypnosis, not that i~lducedduring a formal procedure, but Iike what soxne of them were able to do with members of an audience. 24, The most colrrlrrton statemellt is that the patients have not been hypxiotized, nor have they been magxtetized. The use of the word magxtetized is evidmce of the historical corlnection between Spiritist beIiefs and the thinEng of Fral~zAnton Mesmer, 25, For the development of this insight X arn deeply Indebted to my friend and colleagrre Patric Giesler (see Gieslcr and Greenfield f 989). 26, It is interestixzg to add that the elaborate costurnes made and worn fbr Carnival are called "fantasias.'" 27- Edson Queiroz, for example, had beexi elected to the legisiatlire of the State of Perna~xbucoless than two )bears before he was killed. Other Spiritists, Urnbandistas and leaders of alternative retigious groups a i m have been elected to o&ce or have beexi inRueritiaf In electing other public officials.

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References Brown, Diana DeG, 1986. Umbanda: Relligiorz and Politics In Urban Brazil. Ann Arbor: UMX Elesearch Press. Cavaica~zti,M.L.C. 1983, Q Mundo Ix?;visivei:CosmoiogiA, Sistefna Ritual e NoqHo de Pessoa no Espiritismo, Rio de Janeiro: Zahar Editbras. Esdaile, farnes 19ST[18501. Hypnosis In Medicirze and Surgery. Newtiiork: Juliarz Press. Geisler, Patric, and Sidney M, Greenfield 1989, knetrating Symbols, Penetratir~gKnives: The Medical and Physiological Implications of Braziliatl Spiritistic ""Folk""Surgery far Clinical Hyg~losis.Paper presented at the 31st Annual Scientific Meeting and Workshops of the Axnerican Society of Clinical Hypnosis, Nashville, m,March 11-15, 1989, Greenfidd, Sidney M. 1 9 2 . Charwomen, Cesspools and Road Kuiildi~zg:An Examinatiorz of' Pa tronage, Clientage and Political Power in Southestern Minas Gerais. In Structure and Process ixz Latin America. A. Strickon and S.M. Greenfieid, eds. Pp, 71-100, Albuquerque: University of New Mexicc:, Press. 1977 Patronage, Politics and the Articulation of Local Community and National Society in Pre-1968 Brazil. journal of I~lter-AmericanStt~diesand W r l d Affairs 19139-In2. 11379 Domestic Crises, Schools and Patron-Clientage in Southestern Minas Gerais. Xn Brazil: AtlthropoiogiaX Perspectives. M.L. Margolis and W.E. Carter, eds, Pp, 362-378. New York: Coltxmbia tlniwrsity Press, 1987 The Eletlirn of Dr. Frirz: Spiritist Healing and Patronage Wetwurks in Urban, Ix?;dzxstrialTfrazil. Social Science and Medicitze 24: 12:1095-f 108. 1990 German Spirit Doctors in Spiritist Healing in Urban Brazil. In Ethnohioloa: Ixnplications and Applications: Proceedings of the First Xnter~~ational Corzgress of Etl1nc>biology(Bclcm 19881, Vi~l.2. U.A. Posey and W.L. Overal, Organizers, Pp, 241-256. 13elern, Brazil: SGTIPR, CNPq, Museu Paraellse Ernilio GoeIcli. Greenfield, Sidney M., and Jolzn Gray 1988. The Retur~lof Dr. Fritz: Healing by the Spirits in Brazil. Video Documentary Produced at the Educatiollai Cotnrnunications Departrnent of the University of Wiscorzsi~r-Mi!~vaukee. 1989 JosC Cartos and His Spirits: The Ritual Xrritiatioxl of a ZeZador dos Orixiis. Video Documentary Produced at the Educational Communications Department of the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukte. Greenfield, Sidney M., and R~~ssell Prusr 1990, Popular Religion, Patrorzage, and Resorrrce Distribution in Brazil: A Model of an Hypothesis fc~rthe Survival of the Ect>nomically Marginal, Xn Perspectives on the Informal Economy. Society for Ecollomic Anthropoioh7 Mc>nograplzNo. 8. M. E. Smith, ed. Pp. 1123-146, Washington, DC: liniversiv Press of' America. Hilgard, E.E., and J.R. HiIgarci 1975. Hypnosis In the Relief of Pain. Los Altos, CA: Williarn Kaufmann. Hutchinsorz, Bertram 1966, The Patron-Dependarzt Relationsl~ipin Brazil: A Preliminary Examinatic~n,Sociologia Kr~ralis6:3-30, Karciec, Aflar~t 980. The Gospel According to Allarz Kardec. Brooklyn, NY 3". Galls. brdec, Allaa (A, Blackwell, trans.) n.d. The SpiritS Book, S20 Partlo: Livraria Allan Kardec, McGregor, P, 1967. Jesus of the Spirits. New York: Stein and Day, Pressel, Estl~erJ. 1974. Umbanda Trance and Possession in S20 Paulo, Brazii. If2 Trance, Healing and Hallucination. F. Goodman, J. Henney, and E, Pressel, eds, Pp. 113-225. New Vork: John Witey and Sons.

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Kensl~aw,Park 1969. A Sociological Analysis of Spiritism in Brazil. tlrtpul"iisl1ed doctc3rai dissertation, University of Florida. Koniger, L. 1981. Ciientelism and Patron-Client Relations: A Bibliography. lut Politicai Clientetism, Patronage, and Development, S.N. Eisenstadt and 1%.Lernarchand, eds, Lorzdon: Sage Plablicatiol~s. 1987 Caciquismo and Goronelismo: Go~ltextualUirnensicins of lZatrcl1-1Brokerage In Mexico and Rrazif. Latin American Research Review 22:2:71-100. Kossi, Ernest L. 11386. The Psychobiology of Mind-Body Healing: New Concepts of Therapeutic Hypnosis. New York. W.W Nortoil and Co. Stephen, MicheLe 1989. Constructing Sacred Worlds and Autoar>mous Imaging in New Guinea. In The Eleligiotas Imaginatiox~in New Guinea. Pp. 21 1-236. G, Herdt and M, Stegl~exz,eds, New Brunswick and London: Rt~tgersUniversi~yPress, Strickc?~,Arnoid, and Sidney M. Greenfield 2972. The Analysis of Patron-Client Systems: An Xxztroduction. lut Structrrre and Process In Latin America. A. Strickon and S.M. Greenfield, eds. Pp. 11-7. AIl?uquerque, NM: The University of New Mexico Press.

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2

Zar as Modernization in Contemporary Sudan Susan M. Kenyon

While there is still debate about the origins of zar (the beliefs and practices associated with a particular type of spirit), there is no doubt that it is a plzenomenon that lzas expancied rapidly in recent years. In the Republic of the Sudan particularly, there has been a protiferaticzn of cult groups throughout the country and a dramatic increase in the types of demands made of the cult. Drawing on data largely from Sennar, a predominantly Muslim t ~ w nin Central Sudan, this article examines some of those demands and the nature of tlze zar's responses, -A~atfior"sAbsact

L A T E O N E A P ~ F E K N O O N I N AUC:US~F, lg81, f was sitting in a neighbor's court~ Republic of the Sudan, waiting for a zar bzarei cereyard in the tclwn C ISennar, mony to start, It was slow in getting undernay and we were grc~wingresdess. At last the main gate was pushed open and a woman peered round. Seeing me, she beckoned and hastily withdrew, f followed her oat into the street and found the umiyaI the format leader of a local zar group, waiting with her ceremonial bags and anotlzer very agi~atedmiddle-aged woman, Khadiga. They ~~rgently wanted me to drive them tc>the hospital where Khadiga's sister-in-law, Fatima, was a patient, needing immediate attention. The umiya also happened to be related, tlzrouglz lzer motlzer" gamily, to the sick woman. f had been to the hospital many times before but always had to leave my vehicle outside the gate to the outpatient departments and join the queue of visitors waiting to pay the admission of:ten piastres [about 10 cents US at that time]. Tbday, we drove right up to the main gate through which oniy medical persc>nnel are atfowd to pass, and Kl-radigacafted to the doorman that it was the umiya on LIrgent business. The doors openeci. Under the umiya's direction we headed for

Arithro~>~Engic~zl Q~iarterly68(2) (April 1995): 107-120.

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some buildings on the edge of the compound, which I later learned belonged to tlze isolation wing of the hospital. Parking in front of the room where the sick woman lay, we hurried in, clutching two large plastic bags of equipment, A ccruple of nurses and Fadrna" three daughters were waiting for us and had obviousty been comforting her with news of our imminent arrival. Fatima was weak and distraught. In a ccrrner of the room the umiy;t quietly unpacked her bags and told me that the patient had been bleeding internally for fifteen days and doctors were tunable to stop the lzemorrhaging. There was cause for alarm as she was beginning to lose strength fast and her family was told that surgery was planned within a few days. In desperation they had asked the zar to find out what was causing the problem. The urniya needed oniy a few minutes to tznyack her paraphernalia and take charge. A laborer found idling outside was sent tcr find some chara)al, returning quiclcly with an enamel bctwif of burning coats wlzich were then placed in the umip's special incense pot, At the bedside slze laid several smaff tins a n tlze table which had been cleared for her, and extracted from them pinches of various incenses which were dropped slowly and carefully into the incense pot, Inhafing deeply from this, she tlzen passed it thoroughly about the sick woman's ctotl~es. As the smoke suffirsed Fatima's clothing and body, the umiya, with closed eyes, began chanting inaudibiy, The other w m e n clung to each other, whispering anxiotlsly "What do you want?" as they waited for some response from the patient. Fatirna wearily lifted her head and began to sob. "Don't cry,'"he umiya vas muttering as she continued to wave the incense in front of the patient. The tlmiya seemecl to lzave an inspiration. Putting aside the incense she pulled a small metal cross from one of her large bags. Fatirna seized this eagerly and, now oblivious to the rest of us, began to respond positively, The urniya had diagnosed correctly; Fatima did incleed have tlze sickness of Ear, and, furthermore, it was the zar of the cross. hssession by a Christian Ethiopian spirit named Bashir was causing her distress. We were aff relieved. t>espite the frightening symptoms, here was a Familiar and reassuring diagnosis which made sense to all the w m e n present. Fatima was left alone in a trance-like state for a few minutes and then a bright, cheerful expression came over lzer face. We knew tlzat slze had now entered the stage of active spirit possession, and one by one W went up and shrrok hands with the newtyarrived Bashir. We exchanged the usual polite greetings, Fatlrna responding in harsher tones than usual, tones whicl~we could recognize as BashirYss, Her dauglzters vanted to kntw from him what was the matter. Why was he angry with Fatima? What did he want? "I don't want an operation:Xashir announced firrnty tlzrouglz Fatirna. "We're sorry . . . never mind . . . don" tarry:) we chorused, relieved that the problem was so straight-foward. Mie withdrew t-a the side of the room, grateful to the spirit fctr his communication bat anxious not to upset him furtl~er.Fatirna lay stiffly on tlze becl, for a. short while left afone with her spirit. Then she relaxed and peacefrnlly turned over. Bashir had departed, but the solution was at hand.

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The umiya repacked her bags quickly and efficiently, shook hands with Fatima" family and hugged her patient tightly, "Don" wctrry," h e murmured, ""everything will be all right no$' as she and X hurried awq. She had remembered tlzat anatlzer ceremony was waiting for her. A few weeks later I asked the t~miyaabout Farima. "Mach better, praise be to God" was the reply. She had stopped bleeding within twnty-four hours of crur session in the hospital and it was decided that there was no need for surgery after all, A few days later she was discharged fri-omthe hospitaf and she had since made a complete recovery*X saw her several times after that and she always greeted me most warmly. She said she did not lzavr any recurrence of her problem and generally seemed to enjoy excellent health. I never did learn exactly what lzad caused her prcrblem in the first place, but she apparently paid her dues to the offended spirit who in turn EaciXitated her reccrtPery. Historic&zXntec;;edents:Zar and Social Change in Central Sudan This incident is not only dramatic to relate. It also illtzstrates some significant trends which have occurred in the form of spirit possession knctwn as Tar, as it is found in the Republic of the Sudan. Zar, which refers to both the beliefs and the practices associated with a certain type of spirit (also known as zar, pl. zuim~z),is now a well-known phenomenon fauncl thmughout nnrtlzern Africa and parts of: the Middle East (the most recent general ccrtPerage is found in Lewis et al. 1991). It has been particularly well described for the Sudan (Barclay 1964; Bedri 1987; Boddy f 988,1984; Cioudsfey 1983; Constantinides X 972,1977,199 1; Tames X 980; Kenyan 1991a, 1991b; Makris and AI-Safi 1991; el-Nagar 1975,1980, 198%Seligman 1914; Trirningham 1949; Zenkovsky 1950) though unttf recently most description lzas been drawn from the Three Towns area of: Khartoum, Khartoum Worth, and Omdurman, Boddp" ethnographic contributions from a village in northern Sudan have shcwn that zar beliefs are atscr widespread in rural areas, and in my own research X found that they are common in western and southern Sudan, among non-Muslims as we11 as Muslims, Moreovet; zar practices appear to have spread dramatically within tlze last lzalf century Not only are they now found in areas, suc11 as western Sudan, where until recently there were no organized activities; but even where they have a longer history, such as those urban areas along the Nile, these activities have intensified. Zar seems to have been wetX established in the Sudan in the f 820s (Constantinides f 972,1991) and probably was rooted in much otder, Mridespread belie& and pradices (Lewis 1991: 10-12; also Ranger 1993: 72E; Janzen 1978). Much af the debate until recently has focused a n the origins af Ear, on whether it was derived from an African (variously Ethiopian, W s t African, or Central African) or Middle Eastern sorzrce (far example, Cert~fli1934; Constantinides 1993; Frobenius 1913; Nafvig 1987; Seltgman 1914). Zar, in the context of possession cults generally, has also been analyzed from a variety of orientatians: cultural and symbolic,

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social, gender, psychologicaf, medical, and even nutritional (;For example, Kehoe and Giletti 1981). Ear is still best known as a type of healing cult, though this represents only one aspect of a very complex phenomenon, Earlier interpretations of zar saw it as an expression of psychological disorder (see Rahim 1991 for a recent statement of this approach) or as a therapeutic outlet for marginal (peripheral) members of society, especially wcjmen f see Lewis 1991 for the latest discussion of his ""deprivation theory"") In contrast, recent discussion lzas focused on zar as a distinct system of communication, of knowledge (after Lambek 1981, 19931, even a metalanguage, a type of counter-hegemony within the larger patriarchaf society (Boddy 1988, 1989). The richness and complexity in zar ritual and beliefs reinforce the arguments that this is indeed a very old phenomenon, and one, furthermore, which tetfs tzs a great deal about "the whole spectacle of life with all its ccrntradictions and problems" "&er Kramer 1993: 1151, rather than simply expresses tlze vaice(s) of marginal or powerless groups, Most writers have noted the importance of gender distinctions in zar. It is striking that the majority of the possessing spirits are mate, while many of those activcly possessed are women. In het, zar beliefs are founci among bath men anci women, and in both rural and urban areas, but practices associated with Ear as an organized possession culthare firmly in the lzancis of women, mainly in urban and semi-urban areas, In this article X focus on changes within tlzose beticfs ancl practices; in addition I ccrnsider some aspects of recent gender dynamics in Ear, drawing on data largely from the town of Sennar, How far these are r e f a ~ dtrt wider political anci economic transformations occurring in tlze region is a significant issue which tznderlies much of this discussion. During the period extending from f 979 to 1988 I carried out fieldwctrk in Sennar, Central Sudan, a town of 60,000 inhabitants about 200 miles south of Khartc>um,zDating back only to the early twntieth century, modern Sennar is a retatively prosperous market-town. Located a few miles downstream from the site of the former Funj capital, it originatecl as a colony for ex-soldiers (known as Malakiyu) in the early Angto-Egyptian Condcrminium period ( 1898-1 956). The originaf settlement, known as Moqwa, gained enormous impetus with the construction of a dam on the Blue Nile at this point, which was openeci with great ceremony in 1925,This made Sennar a focus of the Gezira Agricultural Scheme, a vast area of irrigated cultivation designed to provide Lancashire milfs with a cheap source of cotton, which continues (despite serious problems in recent years) to be the mainstay of the Sudanese national eccrnomy (Barnett 19'77). The town became the center of an administrative and jurisdictional District, a position it has lzeld (with some variation) ever since. The first hospital, as well as the first (separate) elementary schoofs far boys and for girls, were opened in the 1930s. By the time the Sudan became independent in 1956 Sennar had a poyulation of 8,000 people drawn from all over the country (Keayon 1931a: 12-13), Today the Sudan, like several of its neighbors, is undergoing enormous uphearsafs which are a complex combination of potiticaf, economic, ecological, reli-

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gious, and saclat factors, These upheavals continue to escalate and present real problems of:survival far ordinary people. The establishment of a right-wing, fundamentalist-Muslim, military regime (the National Islamic Front, NI F), which took p o w r in a 1984 coup, has exacerbated an already dire situation and led to a highly disrupted economy as well as a tense political climate. A range of strategies has emerged to deaf with the prc~bfemsof daily survival. In turn these solutions rnay present new difficulties or Iead to other drastic clzanges in peoples' lives, Increasing unemployment and rapid devaluation of the Sudanese pound, as well as tempting opportunities elsewhere in the oil-rich countries of the Middle East, have led people (mainly men) in ever greater numbers to look for work outside the Sudan. Tlzts trend, which began in the 1970s, gained great momentum in the 1980s, and has probably slowed down in the 1990s as the ccruntry has become more politically isolated. f-ft~wexr,it has had far-reaching effects on Sudanese society, The remittances of these wrkers (at all social leveXs) often provide the only real security for Family members left bbehind, and rnay lead to rapid social mobility as wet1 as much enlarged horimns. Those who fail to receive financial assistance from absent retatives, however, are doubly penalizecl: tlzey lack both the important male support figure and any significant source of income. Thus sudden social changes are added to rapid economic fluctuaticrns. In addition, wctmen at all levels of society have become Qe facto heads of houselzofds, often forced by circumstance to earn a living and to raise their families withcfut the close supycrrt of l~usbaindsor senior male relative. Urban migration has atso intensified drastically in the last few decades, Pcrfitical instability and civil war, drought, environmental deterioration, inappropriate technology, and problematic land management are all factors in the rapid decline of usable Iand in the countryside, Correspondingly migration to the towns, particularly along the Nile, has increased rapidly. People come to Seanar, for example, from a wide area of hinterland: Southerners such as Dinka or Bari rub shrrulders with Sl3aigiya and Jaaliyin migrants from the riverain north, and people from tlze Nrxba Mountains become neiglzbors of Beja fdmilies originating in the east. fn addition, refugees, pilgrims, and immigrants from as Ear afield as Egypt, Mali, Nigeria, and, most recently?Ethiopia have settled in the town, Sudanese women on the whole feel positive about life in towns such as Sennar. Many f spoke with were explicit that they moved willingly from their rural villages Ebr the better ftacliities found in urban areas, including improved emyloyment and edrtcatianal Pacifities for tl-temselvesand their families, ancl for access to a wider range of medical services, including zar (Kenyan 1991a). Within the towns, however, pressure for housing, employment, and schooti~zghas fed to serious ethnic and intraethnic tensions, At the same time the development of new3 mixed ethnic neight-rorhoods has had significant effects on the cultural and social life in these tclwns and led to vital =changes of ideas and customs. As pofiticaf and social pressures are felt more keenly at the local level, so dependence on familiar, well-tried resources increases in sometimes tznexpected fashion. After Shari'a law was intrcrduced into the Sudan in 1983, for =ample, I

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anticipated a decline in attendance at zar ceremonies as people generalfy feared reactions from the religious ancl civil at~tlzoritiesto activities which are sometimes regarded as anti-Islamic by its oppcrnents. The reverse happened. Zar activities increased in frequency, This may be because zar provides a wll-established outlet from tl-te stress the stricter taws brought, especially to women. Evm more likely is the fact that zar provides a forum for women to voice indirect opposition to devetoyments which do not bode well for them, or at least to express discourses other tlzan that which is politicalfy correct. In turn, lzowevex; the zar cult was protected by influential stzpprrrters, or at least by the wives of influential men. Officially, zzar has been banned since 1992 (Gruenbaum 1992), but unofficially, tlze drums are still beating loudly." Development, in the sense of directed, rapid change through modernization by gc>vernmentor international organizations, has proceeded unexnly and tinequally in this part of the world, ltc3ads rernaixt. half-finished, schools are understaffed and over-subscribeci, pharmacies are abunciant but empty, anci factories lack power for production even along the Nile which is the most industrialized part of the country As a result, significant syncretic adaptations of outside innovation to focal practices are commonp~ace. Medicine is a prime exampie. The Sudan has fang had a pluralist medical systern, in which the traditional faki Cpl. fidqara) or holy man, speciaiists such as the bone-setter or barber, tlze practices of Ear, ancl a range of home remedies, cantintze to provide a variety of curing options, The introduction of the western biomedical tradition in the 1930s added another alternative for those who could afford it. For problems such as malaria, serious injuries, or burns, it offers the best option. f-fc~wexr,it also brings added concerns, A new surgical ward had opened in Sennar hospital shortly befc~rethe incident related above, and although this provided exciting medical possibilities (which were perhaps most apparent to the doctors who were anxious to tale advantage of it), serious problems were still to be surmounted, There are few service wctrkers within the hospital system; doctors may be first-rate anci relatirrefy plentiful but there are not many nurses, no social workers, few janitors, no caterers. Equally significantly, resources and infrastructure (such as basic drugs, electricity, even clean sileets) are in short supply, Consequently; the success rate of Xocal ""hospi~almeciicine'5is not highly regadec2. It is certainly felt to be no greater than that of the indigenous healers, includillg teaders in Tar, who continue to prctvide important services to the country at large, even within the hosy ital itself.

Possession and Change: The Case of Sennar At the turn of the twntieth century there were at feast three distinct types of zar activities practiced in the Blue Nile Province,"t>day only two are found, referred to locally as zur-burei and zur-tmmbur~,Both are widespread throughout the country, afthough the fc~rmer(l~encefc~rth called burei) is more popular, while the latter (turnbum)is mainly confined to urban areas and is regarded as being more

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difficuft, strenuous, demanding.%roups of zar-based activities, both burei and tumbtlra, have been organized in Sennar throughout its relatively short lzistory around the idiom of ""the Bo>x,'kaE-ilba (Kenyc~n19"3b), which refers literaffy to the large metal trunk or container in which the Xeader of each group keeps her Ear paraphernalia and symbols of her knowledge. This is opened whenever slze wishes to communicate with the spirits. No two Boxes are the same, as every leader inherits her origi~zalBcm (metaphorically speaking) from the person with whom slze trained, and at the same time acquires equipment, knowledge and rittzal from her own spiritual experiences in Ear. Elsewhere (Kenyan l991b) f have shown that a major mechanism for Aexibiltty in Sudanese rrar is this idiom of the Box, which means tlzat changes and variety in ritual, belief and practice can be incorporated into the local level of zar withctut any seriorzs dissonance on the wider level." The leader with whom I worked most closely was tlze gl-and-daughter of one of tlze first known leaders of zar in Sennar, who is said to have brought the present Box rrf burei to this area from Upper Egypt in the early years of this century. She later married a leader (sarijak) of tumbura who had brought his Box up from the south, ancl her ritual descenclants, lzer son and grancl-daughter (one of: the yresent umiya in Sennar), claim to have the expertise in both grotzps (Kenyc~n1993b), although they practiced only burei. By 1985 there were at least three other, unrelated leaders of: burei and two of: tumbura in Sennar. The practices of: barei and turnbura remain distinct, but while there are differences in detail of belief and ritual, bastcafly they are part of the same phenomenon.

The Assembly of Spirits (d-fum'a):Continuity and Change Zar spirits are distinctive from other spiritual beings which slzare tlze lzuman domain. They are largely benevolent and this positive image is reinforced by the euphemism ""recl wind," aal-rih ulal.zmar, by which they are often referred,$ Zar spirits are also presentations or articulations of: ""otherness," of outsiders or foreigners who have been historicafty signihcant. As such, the performances of zar can be read as texts of social and cuiturat relevance in which the perspective may wll contrast with tl-tat of the dominant political and patriarchal hegemonies. Zar spirits are usually described in terms of ""seven boats,'' wbaa rnarakab, which refer to the w q s in which fcjreigners are typicafly classified in the Sudan. Three boats represent non-African gmups, Derewish, for example, are spirits of such Sufi holy men as Sheikh Abdel Gadr al-Jeilani, who first brought the word of Islam to this part of the w r f d frcm the Middle East. They are always summaned first to any formal ceremony but otherwise, X have never seen anyone possessed by them. Theirs is largefy an honorific role in Sennar Ear. Pashawat are spirits of Egyptians and Turks, those o%ciafs who w r e responsible for the administration of the country througlz tlze Ottoman ( 1 821-1881) and Anglo-Egyptian (1898-1956) peric>ds.Khawajat is the generic term for light-sltinned, European ""officials" or traders, who have also been active in this part of Africa for mast of

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the last 2f10 years. The term is widely used for both humans and spirits from a range of different ethnic backgrouncis ancl, like Pashawat and t>erewisfi,implies a certain social status as weif as place of origin. A further three boats represent African spirits, The Habbashi (Abbyssiniansl Ethiopians) is probably the best definecl gmuy of all zar in Sennar, having a formal genealogy or pedigree of spirits which apparentfy goes back many generat i o n ~X .t ~is also a coflective terrn for all peoples of contemporary Eritrea and Ethiopia. The Ziruq, Blacks, the generic term for tribal peoples to the west anci south, are much less etaborated in zar than in local human terms. One spirit of this grctup, however, is regarded as the most powerful zar in the Box of at least one Sennar leader anci causes tlzose possessed to behave in a violent anci aggl-essive manner. Zar of the Arabs, the generic terrn for Muslim pastoraf nomads, spirits and humans, are feast wlf defined and appear infrequently in Sennar, Spirits of a11 these groups are male, but the seventh boat is that of al-Sittat, ""the Ladies,'" anci is said to include female spirits from each of the other groups. Witl~in each boat, however, there are very fluid movements as new spirits enter and old gradually disappear. The boundaries b e ~ e e nthe boats are not always rigidly defined, and may we11 vary from Box to Box. However, it should be stressed tl-tat, unlike in Madagascar (Sharp 1993, this issue) there are no zar spirits of dead ancestors or ftamous forebears, There are also no rar spirits of close friends or tribal relatives, as Giles (personal communication) fotlnd in East AfTnca,.Ear spirits are always foreigners and as noted above represent only what is alien. Zar, in the sense of possession, is usuaIly ftf~oughnot excfusivefy) inherited, It is frequently passed on from mother to daughter, or to a close relative who in this sense "adopts" or is adopted by the spirit rtf their relative. This process may result in certain physical symptoms or disorders reappearing in successive generations. Zar is also contagious and may strike at any time. A woman who lzad na history of zar possession in her family, and had never before visited any zar ritual, described how she attended a zar ceremony of a close friend out of sociaX duty In amazement she asfied, "What's that?'hs slse watcl~edtlze appearance of Chinese (khuwajat) spirits. At that very moment she felt herself being struck by zar: the spirit of a khawaja, Possession in itself is not regaded as a pathofogical condition anci zar is not necessarily prc~bfernaticor debilitating. Many people, possibly everyone, have one or mare zar spirits which do nctt bother them. It is only when that spirit is upset tlzat it begins to cause difficulties, either through sickrzess, or thmugh causing untzsuaf behavic>r,or thrarzgh attracting a series of misfortunes to the host. Zar yctssession is then confirmed by eliminating all other possibilities through consultations with hospital doctors and holy men (Abdalla 1991: 44; Boddy 1988: 14; el-Nagar 19887; Kenyctn 199fb). It is often a last resort, one which people are loth to accept, mainly becarrse they recognize t h a ~ f h brings s a permanent cttmmitment, Zar spirits are never exorcised, simply pacified, On the other hand, zar can also bring positive benefits, One w m a n described how she reluctantly accepted her relatictnshtp with the zar spirits, and at the out-

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set laid dctwn certain conditions if she were to meet their demands. These largely concerneci lzer children: that they slzoufd not be involved with zar themselves and that they should prosper, On the whole she felt that these were hlfilled, Each of her sons and daughters achieved prokssional success, although neither she nor her husband lzad had much formal schooling, The premature deatlz of her oldest son, hc>wexr,was causing her to question seriously the whole basis of trust on which her relationship with the zar depended. Zar spirits are not particularly spontaneous, in that they only ""cme dawn" (nazal) to actively possess someone when they are summrrned through ritual activity (special incense or drum-beating are the most common means), A person may be possessed and find themselves driven by their zar ""guest'9o do sometiling tznconventional while never actually entering a trance state, Trance, or "manifest possession" "(aft kambek 1993: 31 31, occurs only in highly structured ritualized situaations and is controlled by a person who has special p o w r s in Tar, usually the umiyd. The person in trance may dance, or enact some activity (grincling wheat, or examining a patient with a stethoscope, or strutting around in arrogant fashion) in character with the possessing spirit, but rarefy speaks. The possessing spirit communicates through an intermediary, t~suaflytlze leader, who interprets the message for the person possessed (cf Lambek 1980, 1981; Sharp, this issue; Kenyon 1994). t>etatled unbiased information about zar spirits is scarce in tlze historical record, From orat accorznts of contemporary informants, it is possible to see shifts in the pancryly of spirits which at feast partly reflect contemporary social events and processes. In the Sennar Box with whicl-t 1 worked most closely, f0r example, the Ethiopian spirits and the Black African spirits have become increasingly significant, at the same time as the neighborhoods of the town are becoming etlznically more diverse. Khawajat and Pdshawat zar, spiritual reflections of an earlier colonial period, now pcrssess people less frequently than informants recall from their youth, atthough on fcjrmat rituat occasions the whoIe assembly (alJum'a) of spirits is said to ""eme down" at least in the opening ceremony. Sometimes the older spirits are able to deal with new concerns. Thcjse in the category kncrwn as Pashawat, for example, have been around h r a long time in Seanar anci continue to be active, if less sa tl-tan. certain other spirits today X n a. formal ceremony people pcrssessed by Hakinbasha, the ""cfoctor-in-chief""and one of the best-known Pashawat spirits, wear a white coat, carry a stethoscctye, and are imbued with a. mysterious manner and assumption of speciat medical knowledge, They do not talk but communicate tbrorzgh a third person with special powers in Tar, usually the leader. In recent years, however, new spirits have appeared in Seanar zar, typified by the Ethiopian spirit Uashir with whom our account began, They are described as lo>wlyservants of the other Ear, who carry messages back and forth to the broader panoply of zar spirits, and d o this tlzrough direct conversation with human clients. Bashir (and to a much lesser extent, other Ethiopian spirits such as his relatixs Jcrsay and Dashullay) is the only spirit who likes to talk, who comes down and chats with lz~ossessedonloolcers

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as well as the spirits of other people in a state of manifest possession. Though people possessed by Bashir are often very entertaining, their conversations are always ritually controlled, either as part of the larger ceremrrny irr during an informat ritual held for this purpose. Baslzir anci his relatives are sometimes described as "the Children of the Habbash"" (the Ethiopian spirits). One woman tidd me that they came to Sennar "at the time of the Ethiopian massacre" when the Sultan of Ethiopia came to the Sudan, This could refer to Haile SeIassie anci the political events in 1936 (cf. Gons~antinides 1972: 90) or it ccrtzld equally well refer to more recent happenings, In zar terms they are regarded as a new generation, different and less respectable than ""older" Habbaslzi spirits such as Sultan al-Habbash, one of the grander zar of this boat (a situation paralleled in the Swahifi case described by Giles, this issue). Women claim that they like to be possessed by Bashir. He can be fun, if unpredictable; but more importantly he earns money h r the messages he takes back and fortlz. On ritual occasions verbal or written messages are brouglzt to him to be ccrnxyed tcr the different zar spirits. They may be delivered to Bashir by the person needing help, or by an intermediary, but are always submitted with a small sum of cash. Bashir has a sister, named Luliya (Sharp 1993: 173, this issue, describes a sirnijar brother-sister relationship in Madagascar). She too visits regufarty and can relay messages to other Ear, though concerned only with distinctly "female" tafocs. Women who are suffering from problems associated with infertility, sexuality, and reproduction seek out LuXiya Ec3r advice, Many in fact find themselves possessed by her and she is oAen tlze first zar s p i r i ~ be o diagnosed as tmubling a person. Significantly she seems to be the zar &c> first attacks young women, even unmarried girls. One of the unwanted changes that otder w m e n commented on was tlze increasing number of adolescents wl-to are getting involved in zar, through both latent and manifest possession. Young people start behaving in unacceptable ways, with girls spending too much time outside with their friends or wearing unsuitable dress (and not covering their heads) and boys not workirzg hard in schirol to pass their examinations, Such behavior is said to be catzsed by a zar expressing displeasure, though it may not lead to their active possession. In addition, at formal ceremonies increasing numbers of young women are being actively possessed and joining in the dancing. Older wijmen view the tatter trend particularty with disapprovaf, "What does a yctung girl need with zarl She has dresses, beauty, friends to enjoy herself with," one commented sourly. f was toid several stories aborzt the stormy relationship between Luliya and Bashir, Lufiya is often described as a prctstitute, and when Bashir realized this, he tried to kill he;~=Wc>w even thclugh she is usually well-behaxd (in that for many wijmen who are yirssessed by her, her demands are restrained) brother and sister spirits never appear together for fear he will harm her, In fact, no two spirits ever come down together at the same time but only the separation of Bashir and Luliya is justified in this way. '0 It slzotlld be stressed that beliefs concerning zar are essentially pragmatic, rather than metaphysical. As Holy (1988: 473, after Keesing) noted for the Berti,

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there is a greater concern "with means than with meanings, with results than with reasans, witlz controlling than with explaining.'"nconsistencies in knowledge about the nature of Tar, collectivety and individually, do not pose problems, The existence of zar is not questioned; nctr is it often a source of inquiry, Knctwledge about the nature of the spirits comes primarily from the spirits tlzemselves, tzsually mediated by the tzmiya according to the knowledge framed by her Box, but nctt otherwise subject to human scrutiny. Categories, boundaries, expianations in human terms may be individually offered bat tlzere is no absalrtte source of understanding against which to meastzre those bcrtzndaries as "riight'\or ""wrctng." The efficacy of the knomrtedge provided by the zar themselves is what counts.

Sudanese Coffee Parties and Spiritud Chit-&at: Changes in Zar Achities Beliefs aborzt zar spirits, therefore, are constantly changing and respcrnding to new situations, but a certain, common structure is prctvided through bctth the organlxation of the Box, and the chains of Inheritance to which this leads, Changes in zar activities are also significldnt, and equally within well-defined limits. Most strilting of the developments within zar in recent years is the increasing number of women who participate in each type of activity, Attendance at the formal annual tlzanksgiving ceremonies (how11 as Kajabiya ancl discussed below), for example, increased dramatically from 1980 to 1985. My rough estimates suggest numbers doubied during this period, a figure certainly not paralleled by the expansion of the town. This gmuy of devotees represents tlze ongoing active yarticipants associated with a particular zar Bcrx. k o p l e are active in ft3rmal activities either when they have a problem which they have taken to a zar leader and are waiting for it to be resolved, or wl~enthey have made a major commitment to a zar group and are involved with the organizational side of it. Once a problem has been resolved, mast people retain only a loose interest in the group, at least until something else goes wrong. Active involvement in zar is costly both in time ancl money and few people are prepared to commit tl~emselvesin this way, Different levels of complexity can be distinguished in zar activities, Basic or routine activities occur daily at the house of each t~miya,as slze is consulted about various zar-related disctrders, She is available for hetp at any time of day or night but normally is not possessed on these occasions. She simply ""opens the Box" in which are stored all her ritual yaraplzernalia, f~~migates her client with specific types of incense and variously r>Bersdiagnosis, advice, and hetp of some sort. The client may or may not become possessed as part of this process, Only on ctxtraordinary occasions does the u m i p make house-calls, suc11 as in the episode at the hosyitat described abctt~e.This is a far from typical exampie of the urniya" rroutine work, which is mare commonly performed in her hame, or at least in her special "house of zar.'Xenerally, she tends to zar business in between seeing to househstd chores, although the space allocated to zar work is separated in some way from that of the rest ctf the household. Xn the case of the four umiyat with whom f worked, one rented a separate house a few blocks away from her home";

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the others simply set aside one room in their household and referred to this as tlze ""house of zar" and it was used solely for that purpose.E2 Formal ceremrrnies, in which the whole assembly (al-Jurnka) of spirits is summoned, are significant public performances which rnay last for several days, and include special elaborate feasting (for both spiritual ancl lzuman guests) and dramatic performances with mtzsic, costume, and dance, Those ceremonies which are h r curing are sponsored by a needy individual and her ritual support groupf3 and are to honor or propitiate the zar spirits which are causing tlze trouble. The individual host is referred to as either the ""bride" or the "woman of zar." Other format ceremonies are hosted by the leader of a Box and she calk on all those she has helped in the past to support her. They celebrate a specific calendar event, the most important of which is in Rajah, the seventh month of the Xstarnic calendar.14 Rajabiya represents the nzajor annual ceremony for each individual house or group of zar, when at1 clients of a particular umiya are expected to show their support for her. They are essentially occasions on which relations with the zar spirits are reaffirmed, both individually and collectively, More frequent than the fc)rmal ceremonies today are infcjrmal zar ritualsI5 which the urniya, and alst:, other women who have strcrng ycrwers in zar, hold several times a week in their homes. The most notable of these is the coffee-party (al-lfabana).By 1988,when X last visited Sennar, this was being held fdr more hquently, in more private lzomes, tlzan was the case when X first went to live in Sennar in 19B9.On certain days, individuals claiming ""strong" zar possession but who may not be umiyat or even training to be leaders, hold a small coffee party for a particular Habbashi spirit at whiclz they became possessed by that spirit.16 The umtya simply holds this ritual with greater regularity and usuaIIy in a rather more formidable (and often expensive) version. For a small sum, neighbors, friends as well as seasonecl zar devotees can bring requests or problems directly to the zar spirits, with whom they share refreshments." The jabana is a cheaper and less formal method of consultation than going to the house of zar for a fuller ritual. When one attends, it is invariably to ask for help or advice, given infcjrmafly by other human guests as well as more privately by petitioning the visiting spirit who rnay possess only the hostess or several other guests as well. These petitions range from siinyle requests for diagnosis or material help to more complex pleas for intervention, such as occurred in the hospital. My neighbors were confused about why I should so frequently attend zar rituai and never ask for anything for myself or my fan~ily;and when I talkd with possessed women, I was very aware that their spirit was vaiting to know what f vanted. The jabana is associated particularly with the p u n g e r generation of Habbashi spirits, tlzose described above as servants, who are able to relay messages andlor requests from humans to all the other zar, collectively or individually. These syirits are expected ahead of time and come with great regularity: in Sennar, h r example, Sunclay is the day on which the Christian spirit Bashir comes down to those w m e n who want to host a jabana while Luliya may come down on a Tuesday, though she is n o ~ u m m a n e dso regularfy,ig Women in Seanar regarded the

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jabana as a fairly recent innovation in the town and by 1985, it was atso being held in some of the srrrrounciing vilages on an irregular basis, fluring the period from 1985 to 1988 at least two zar leaders in Sennar increased this routine coffee ritual from three to h u r days a week, because of local demand.

So wl-ty do moire peopfmeem to be turning to zar? What explanation can be found for the apparent spread of zar beliefs and increase in zar practices in the last few decades? The above developments suggest that a primary explanation lies in the Fact that zar is becoming both more popular and more acceptable. Several writers (Constantinides 19'72;Hurreiz 1991; Kenyc~n1991b) have commented on the club-like resemblance of zar; This, et-Nagar (1975: 2%) has suggested, is "a social and religious association of wctmen parallet to the zikr" . . . and other associations of men.'?n recent years this syciaX aspect of zar lzas become more important. As former practices have been abandoned which were abhorrent in Islam (such as drinking the blood of the sacrificed anirnalszo),so the dramatic and entertainment elements in zar ceremonialism have attracted a wider audience and range of participants. By the early 1980s zar was beccrming publicly identiRed with traditionat Sudanese culture, During the period of my research this process was actively Facilitated tl-trouglz media events, popular newspaper articles and even throtzgh academic research. The fatter may be infrequent and focafized, but it was seen as giving public credibility and authenticity to zar, Performances were televised and widely enjoyed; they were also discussed on radio, as both entertainment and an indigenous form of psychotherapy. While many orthodcjx Muslims continue to reject zar belie& for themselves and their families, and some may denounce it as evil anci against Islam, others attend its ritual for entertainment, or simply tcr be sociable when a neighbor or relative is the host, From oral accounts of older women, it is clear that many of the probtems taken to the zar are the same as was true in their yautlz: physical problems, social and family problems, stress, These are not zar-specific: but are shared with the other atsailable curing systems. Hr-twever, these prctblems also reflect the wider contemporary palit-ical economy At the time of this fieldwork, difficulties abounded with school examinations or jrtb supervisors or mothers-in-law; cornplicaticzns because absent husbands or brothers have nett been heard froan since tlzey went to work in Saudi Araii7ia or Libya. All these contributing conditions are of course part of much larger political and ea~nomicissues (Msrsy 1991). The most pressing problem for most people in r e a n t years has been simply material need. Inflation, unemployment, the failure of traditional sources of subsistence and income, pcrlitical instability, and breakdown of the traditional kinship system as men move away to towns or overseas and keep up only sporadic contact, all leave many peayte (particuf arjy women) badly off if not cam pletely destitute. On an individual level, such difficulties may cause physical problems which are variously translated as headaches, strange heartbeats, dizziness, or loss of appetite,

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The spirits of zar, howevet; soon get to the heart ofthe matter and are responding to tlzese needs in various ways. The spirits are generotzs when they come down. It is said that the possessing zar spirits (rather than the hosts themselves) give gifts to the drummers, the woman who prepares the coffee, or simply to anyane who impresses tlzem in performance or appearance, as an expression of their largesse. In turn, zar adherents are also expected to give ongoing financial support to the leader who first helped tlzem in zar, to enable her to hoXd the necessary Rajaibiya ceremonies in appropriate style, and simylty to ccrntinue her work. On the other hand, until recently leaders in zar, whether possessed or not, were nowexpected to give emnomic assistance to their followers, Traditionally their help was of tlze spiritual variety. The new servants in zar, however, offer more practical assistance. Bashir and Luliya, those burei spirits whom we have seen are most associated with recent changes in zar, are renowned for their generosity to those in need, Not only do they, through possession, come and socialize and clzat with followers, tlzus providing a real source of support and diversion. They also earn some income for their hostess and this enabies her to give gifts of money and cforhes tct those who are in greatest neeci. Furthermore, they do so in ways that are totally consistent with Sudanese ideals of rntztual help and reciprocity. One w m a n told me that she had been helped in this w q since before she was married, W e n she first went to the zar, in dire distress, t l ~ epossessed t~miyagave her three dresses, five Sucianese pounds (ts5, about US$5 at that time) fbr the tailor, and some shoes, to help with her marriage pXans. Neither she nor X were in any dcrubt that this was an investment or ""dty" "ajiuj'zh), to be returned wit11 interest in due cotlrse (Kenyon 1993a: 51-52),21 Zar, as a form of howledge or uncierstanding, is very much a part of everyday life. It is a frequent explanation when thix~gsgo wrong, a solution to difficulties created by rapid change, as well as a way of dealing with social crr physical problems. In the poorer part of tctwn where 1 lived zar was fallced of routinely by women to justifj such tittte foibles as occasional cigarette-smobng, regaded as inappropriate behavior for wc3men. It was their zar spiritls) making them do this, even though they may have no other evidence of zar possession, Similarty zar was offered as an explanation for issues ranging from barrenness to fdilure in school to stomach disorders, and such a diagn~sisis easily fotlc~wedup with a history and discussion of similar cases. New prcrblerns, or conflict b e ~ e e nchanging values and expectations, can thus be interpreted in familiar terms, and then dealt witlz accordingly. In turn, zar practias are responding tcr new demands, as the incident at the hospital illustrates. Zar may be best known as a healing cult, hut it also meets a wide range of other needs. Frequently it simpb helps ordi~~ary people to adapt to forayidly cl~anging situations and the conhsion this may bring to their lives. X t is in this sense that X argue zar is modernization. For many people in Sennar it facilitates tlzeir coping with some of the dramatic changes affectit~gtlzem as they m0.l.e from rural community to urban life, with the bewildering array of choices that this presents. Zar is embodied knctwledge, It nomonly provides indi-

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vidraal wctmen, removed from their family, with a strong social network (Constantinides 1977); it also enables people to deal with new situations, new groups, new ideas with a wealth of experience and confidence. In possession, one becttmes the subject being portrayed," kcarrse of their relationships with zar spirits, women I met at tlze lzouse of zar greeted me warmly anci intimately, even thclrzgh I had never seen them before. Being a light-skinned European I am classified as a (female) khawaja. Women possessed by kfiawllja spirits felt a very real sense of kinslzip with me, as well as assuming themselves to be knowledgeable about my culture, in ways analogous to that of the well-read anthroyc~logistwho is embarking on her first phase of fieldwork. Zar is a source of knctwledge about new cultures, a way of understanciing alternative lifestyles as well as of experiencing them in the contrcllled context of the zar ritual, In the process, m m e n gain perspective on their ~ w lives. n As Bcrddy (1988: 22) has noted, "13c)ssession, like anthropotogy i s a reflexive di~ctturse~" Furthermore, in many cases, zar act~~ally processes change (afier Constantinides 1972). Zar is incorporating distinctly "mrtdern" or fc~reigntraits into both beliefs and ritual in this process of adapeadon. This again is nothing new, having characterized zar throughout its known history However, it may now be lzappening more rapid+ and mon: clearly; We can actually observe new spirits being incorporated and new procedures or rituals beirzg adopted which reflect social events. For example, the ixnportance of: Ethiopian spirits in contemporary zar in Sennar is matched by the influx tcr the tcrwn ~ t Ethiopian f refugees from the civil war during the perisrd 1972-91 (C. Schaefer, personal communication). The increasing use of conventional biomedicd pma"dres (the use of specific ""surgery'kr c~nsutti~zg tixnes and the style of patient examinations) by the umi-ya is paralleled by the mushrooming in the town of private biomedical yracticres by doctors trained in "Chfistian" (or at least Eastern European) countries. Baslzir, as a Christian spirit, was regaded as well-xrsed in the rotztines of this type of mrtdern medicine and therefore quite able to extricate Fatima from the clutches of the kospieaf,

I-foiy Women and Male Leaders in Zar: Gender, Spirits, and Social Change Xn the Muslim Sudan gender segregation is marked, Male and female activities and social roles are highly differentiated and it is not surprising that males are excluded fronz wctmen" (organized pursuits, such as zar, just as women are more visibly excluded from men's (a point also made by Lambek 1981 and Giles 198"i"or different cultural ccrntexts). However, as the practice of zar brctadens its appeal in the Sudan, becomes more socially and culturally accep~able,and enters the realm of: successfrtl popular entertainment and economics, what until recently has been a predominantly female organization appears to be in process of being appropriated by men. m e n I was last in Khartoum (in 1988), X was taken to tlze house of:zar of:SheiMz Muhammad Hullu in the nearby tclwn crf Kanakia, and there the trends discussed above are ciearly apparent, Sheikl? Hullu i s a faki who has felt the call of the zar

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spirits and incorporated many zar practices into his curing ritual, This was orclzestrated by his assistant, a former Sudanese film actress. The resulting ceremonies were colorful, dramatic, and technically very sophisticated, His publicity was much more efficient than the traditional word of mouth, and relied on such worldly. tecl-txltcluesas pidure postcareis ancl videos, He drew on tourists to reflect his status and provide a substantial income, and also to develop and support his claim that he was the head of ail zar activity. in the Sudan," WhiXe this was laughingly and condescendit~glyrejecteci in Sennar, where women accused him of fraud, it may alst:, indicate a very real threat, regardless of whether Sheikh Hullu himself ever sees his claims become a reality. It suggests a tendency, pparallefed elsewhere in Africa among traditional healers (Chavunduka 1986; Last 1991),for zar; as a system of healing, to beccrme centralized and professionalized. In the Sudan it is tznlikely that this will occur under a w m a n , for that w u l d imply a very real break with the misting organization and funcdons of zar, The process of recognition of Muhammad Hultrr's claims was being encouraged and ratified by academic interest, The University crf martourn" Institute of African and Asian Studies undertook a ten-year study of zar at the house of Mullammad Hullu, who was giving them the fullest cooperation and in return receivecl substantial materiat benefits for the constant flew of visitors, and from tzndertakings such as videos of his work, It was not clear if in his house of zar, male authorities (of University andlor political arenas) were contriviizg some of the cl~angesthat are occurring in mr. To some extent it is evident that they were triviafizing it," On the other hand, they are certainly expediting the promss whereby Tar becomes an accey~ablepart of popular contemporary Sudanese culrrtre, In Sennar beliefs in zar spirits are shared by men and women but mainly w m e n practice the ritual associated with those beliefs, In contrast, only a man can enter tlze profession of F&, in which the convention of possession may also be emplo-~fedin the curing process, In the early 1980s I w o r k d with a tznique and very religious woman, the daughter of Jarnil (in Kenyon 1991a), who has had an astonishingly successf~~l career in curing and sociaf wel6are, assuming a role very like that of a faki though she herself rejects any claim to be a "hc>lywoman." She is consulted by large numbers of both men and women, who may travel vast distances to see her. She works only thmugln possession anci describes this as a "gift from Cod,'?he voice of Allah speaking to her through one of his (male) servants, called, maybe significantly, Bashir. This she distinguishes from zar, which she also participates in, tl-tough not as a healer or leader. Such blurring of what were once seen as distinctly engendered activities is a significant trend reflected in contemporary zar, It certainly reflects increasingly important social realities, as in the absence of their significant male relathes, women assume more public responsibility for their Eamilies and households. For many Mromen the responsibitity itself is not new. Through the disclourse of Tar, they have long been resolving Family problems, anci participating in a wide sociaf arena. Now as this disccrtzrse becomes mrrre public we are able to appreciate dearly that it is not a peripheral voice for marghal members of society, but rather an important, ongcring expression and interpretation of the tatd Sudanese experience.

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Althc~ughthere does seem to be evidence to suggest that the incidence of possession increases in times of social stxss (for example, C-otst-,n 1'370; atso Sharp f 9931, it is over-simptiqing to regard possession as merely a reflection of sylnptoms of tension and distress found in the larger society. Rather possession beliefs such as zar represent a compfex and dynamic set of strategies which continue to make sense of the changing circumstances in wl~ichvario~lspeople find themselves. As we s t ~ ~ in o dthe hospital with Fatima, trying tcr help resolve her pri>blem,I w s aware of the relief with which the arriwl of the leader of zar was greeted by patient, Family and bystanciers. Here was obviously a person who was felt to have great knowledge and pcrwers, certainly capable of dealing with such a situation, even thotzgh a hospital room w s not part of the rrrutine round of zar. Nobody w a s surprised by her confirmation that the zar were indeed responsible for Fatimds condition. The retiponse of Baslzir was likewise reassuring, representing as he does a more popular guest than the Pashawat spirit Hakinbasha, who also deals with medical matters but remains more atoof and distant and, it has to be adxnitted, is now somewhat dated in his techniques. Bashir can communicate his demands dire&ly as well a represent the whole assembly of zar. IJaradc~gcaUyhe can be described as the most "worldfy" of the rar spirits, who understands and is able to deaf with the problems of contemporary Sennar white at tl-te same time he has ready access to the more ""prestigious" zar spirits of yesteryear. His is a strong and effective voice, a bridge25 connecting tlze two worlds: that of the nodern diverse environment in which so many zar partidpants find themselves, and that of the larger more conservative world-view to which m a q people contintze tcr subscribe. In the last resort it is in this sense that he, and the new spirits like him as well as tlze rituals associated with them, represent modernization in zar. Through sucl-t spirits forms of possession such as this continue to meet new and increasingly diverse heeds in contemporary society and continue to be a relevant interpretation of the daily experience, However, tlze ""era of the Ethioyians'bily weft already be passing, as the civil war in Ethiopia has ended, and meanwhile religious kndamentalism tightens its hold on the Sudan, Further field research in Sennar may well reveal new configurations of:spirits and ritual witl-t possibfy the reemergence of the Llerewish spirits as active spiritual actors, Equally possiM~new spirits aftclgether may be emerging which will provide us with a vital alternative commentary on contemporary local events.

Notes Acknr~deldgnze~za Gratch~llttEta~&sare extended to the many people in Sennar who helped with my reserzrcil, and especially to the late Rabba Muhamxnad, Hajja Fatna Abdel Aziz, Najat Ahcnad, the late Soad a1 Khoda, Zeinah Bt~shra,Zashara a1 Biya, Miriam Idris, Halina Ahmad, and Nuresham Ahmad. f also wish to express my appreciation to Myrdexze Anderson, Erikil Bourguignorz, and Caroiyn Beck fbr their insightkl contributions far the symposium at which this paper was originally presented; to Myrdene Andersun, Linda

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Giles, and Lesley Sharp b r their heipful cornments orz earlier versiorzs of this text; to the Quarter13r; and to Dr Phyllis Chock for her yaanonymous reviewers of Anthrijpologic~~l tierrce and assistance thro~xghorrt. I. The term ""cdt" is proble~naticin discrrssing zar sirzce It Imyiies greater centraiization and cohesion of hetiefs and activities than is actually found. Here I use the term sirnply to refer to those organized activities associated with zar beliefs. 2. See Kenyon 1991a for details of this fieldwork, Although most of my data are drawn froxn Sermar, X also caxlducted research into zar in Nyafa (Darfur Province) and in Khartoum during this period. 3. Z2uring zar cerernunies (both btlrei and tumbtlra), the various spirits are sulnmoned by their own distirzctive drurn-beat or ""tread"") played on large tamborrrine drums by the leader and her assist-ants. 4, See Kenyon 199Za and I991b for a brief discussion of these, Furtl~erdiscussiorz Is forthcoming in Kel~ycJnad. 5,In sum, it is described as being masctxli~re,while burei is feminine, a good exa~npleof engenderment wilPzin zar. Sharp (personal communication) notes that this is very lile tromba, which expects people to be ""smng" eevell though the spirits Iike wotxen because they are easy and weaker targets than men, 6. GiXes (personal carnmur1ication) has observed a similar phenornenorl in field sites in east Africa, where It Is referred to as the Bag (wzknbt-lin Swahillif. 7. Again there are significant paralteis with the other cases described in this volurne, Sharp, for example, rxotes that trornba inhabit the wi~zci(ksioku). 8. I am still in process of analyzing this and the refere~ltsare not entirely cclea. Hc~weves, It would appear to go back trrrtil the mid-rxineteerrth centrxry at least. 9. Here the parallel with the tro~xbaspirit Mbotimahasaky is striking (Sltarp, personat communication, t 993: 173). 10, Many people may be possessed by ~xanifestationsof the same spirit at the same ceremorly at the same time, but no two individuals are ever possessed by different spirits sirnultaneorxsly. This differs frc3m both the other locations described in this volurne, where different people do not hecorne possessed by the game spirit, Giles (personal cornmtznication) found In East Africa that individual spirits are associated with a particrriar person, and althougll they may visit others occasionally, it would be very strarlge to have two peopIe possessed by the same inditvidrxai spirit. Sharp (personal communication) stresses that no two people are possessed simultanec)t~sly 11. This wolxan remained married to her busbal~dof mally years and they were both religious in the orthodox Muslem sense, spending a great deal of time in prayer and at the mosque, and having made the pilgrimage to Mecca several times. She also had childre11 wl~onnshe did rxot involve in zar activities. These were kept quite apart frcm her personal life. The other urnijft~tail worked froxn their home, btlt kept at least one room reserved for zar iocked when it was not in use. These w m e n were divorced and shared their homes with their children andlor sibIings and their families, atl of whom were invc~ivedin zar. 12. hilost important of all, domestic space is separated from the place of sacrifice to the ~ ~ is associated with each house of zar ( k n y o n f991a: 198). zar, the m l ! y ~ a gwlzich 13. Such a group would indude her close relatives and frierzds as welt as those senior members of a particular zas Box who act as her mentors and suppc>rters. 14. The month of ltajab is a popular time for cegebrations of all sorts, coinciding with sacred events in the life of the Prophet, and corning the rnonth before p r e p a r a t i ~begin ~ for Ramadan (the fasting month),

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15. Corntantinides { 3977) contrasts public and private ritrxal but this ignores the fact that allyone can attelld a11 types of rituals (althotzgh far parts of the ft3rmal ceremonies, orzly the leader, her patient, and the trorxbled xar spirit(s) are i~rvt,lved),The big difference between fo>rmaland informal ritual is that in the fc~clrmerdrulrrs are beaten to bring down all the spirits, and these lead to variorxs dramatic dances/dramas/er~actr~t.et~ts of historical significarlce. 16. Coffee is the desired beverage of most Habbashi spirits, a choice paralleled by the local experience that Ethiopia produces the best coffee, 17. Such refreshments are always distinctive and express the dernands of the differerzt spirits. Gtlffee has historically. been wry important in zar in Ethiopia as well as Sudan (Messing 1958) and in Sennar is served to Ethiopian spirits. It is important that it be served withorrt sugar, Non-Musiim spirits frequently demand aicoholic drinks, while female spirits Like hfiya prefer sweet drinks such as Pepsi Cola. 18, In other words, Luliya comes orzly if there Is a need, See Ke~xyon1992a for a description of a parallel development in zar tttmbrtra. 1%Zikr {fit,"reerrmembrance") refers both to the type of ecstatic prayers practiced by Sufi Muslims and, mclre colloquially, to the groups or brotherhoods associated with those prayers. Such groups are all mate. 20.. "Tracesof this can perhaps be seen in tlze prxtice zar devc~teesstill adopt of daubing on their brows and cheeks the blood of an anirnai sacrificed to the zar spirits, However, actual drinking of the blood has not been practised at least since 1966, since the death of the "Grandmother of Sermar ZarP 2 l. This wmarx was actually possmsed by Shirumhay, the ""new" spirit in turnbrrra zar wlxo has many similarities to Bashir. In tumbura it appears that tlze trend discussed here is even more pronorrnced. Certainly much larger sums are given away 22, This phrase was s~igestedto me by Sllarp. 23. Male leaders in burei zar are not unk~~otvn (see, for exampie, Collstantirrides 1972; El-Nagar 1980) and as noted above, in trtmht~ra,a male leader is the formal head (snnjak) of any Box, However, no ogle would presuxne to make the sort of claims of dotnina~leebeing discussed here, Boxes in burei are arJItonomous and r?tolarger ft~rxnalorganization or hierarchy is recognized. In tlimbura X was told there is a Ioose centralized organizatio~l based orz Kbarrorxm North but no orze knew o f a sirxgIe head. 24. As Last (1991) noted happe~ledwith bori in Haussland, Here, I wc~ulddisagree with Last f 3 990: 366)) who appears to be suggesting that the zar cult llas continrred to thrive in Sudan because of the efforts of Sheik Htlllu and the sr~pportof the u~liversity.This view ignores the very autoilornous nature of each Box in zar, 25. Significantly, anr>therterm for zar is dtrsttrf; one meaning of which is a hinge tor constitution, It is in this sense tl.rat tue can see how effectively the zar spirits work to connect the huxnan and norz-humarx domains,

References Abdalla, Xs~xailH. 1991. Neither friend nor foe: The nzlirbanl practitioner-yt bori reIationship in Hausatand. In \%men's medicine: Il'he zar-hori cull in 4{ricu arzcl j~eyorzcl,ed, I.M. kwis, Ahrned Aj-Safi, and Sayyid Hurreiz. Edinburgh: Edinburgh U~liversityPress for the International African frlstitute. 13arclay, H.B. 19664. Ruurri al Lanlaab: A suburbfdn viil~~ge in the Szldikl~,Ithaca NY: Cornell University IJress. 13arnett. T, 1977. The C2ezim scheurre. London: Frank Cass and Co.

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Kedri, Balghis, 1987. The sociology of food in the Fetiel-rabarea, Xn The Sutlancise wmurt, @d.S.M. Kel-ryon,London: Ithaca Press. Noddy, Janice. 1988. Spirits and selves in northern Sudan: The cultural therapet~ticsof possession atld trance. American Ethvzologist 15( 1): 4-27', 1989. Wombs and alien spirits: !.2rclurren, men and the m r cult irr northern Sudan, Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Cerulti, E. 1935, Zar. In The Iincyclr~puetli~d nflslTsEr;lm,%l. XV. Landon: Brill. Chav~xndtrka,G.L. 1986, Zinatha: The organisation of traditional medicine In Zimbabwe. In 2'he pr($essiorzafisation ofAfrtca~medicine, @d.M . Last and G.L. Ghawndttka. Manchester: Manchester Unixrsity Press for the International African Institute. Cloudstey, Ann. 1983, Women of Clmdurnzun: L@, love anJ the cult of virginity Londo1-r: Ethnographica. Coison, E, 1970. Converts and tradition; The impact of Christianity orz valley Torzga religion. SazkthwesrernIour~ulofArzthrq?oEogy26(2): X43-156, Comtantinzides, P. 1972. Sickness and the spirits: A study of the "mar" spirit possession cult in the northern Sudan. P11.l.2, Dissertation, University of London, 1977. "Ill at case and sick at heart": Symbolic bel~aviorin a S~idanesehealing cult. In Symbols and sentimerlts, ed. P. Caplan and C>, 13ujrrz. Bloomington: Xndiaxla University Press. 1991. The history of zar in the Sudan: Theories of origin, recorded observdtion and oral tradition, In W~men"smedicine:The sar-bari cult in Africr~and beyond ed, I.M. Lewis, Al-rmed At-Safi, and Sayyid Hrrrreiz. Edinbtrrg1-r: mix~burghUniversity Press for the Internatiorzal African Illstitute. Frobenius, L. 1913. 7"Izevt2ice t$Africc~. London: I-lrttchinson and Go. G i b , L. 1987, bssession cults on the Sw'ahili coast: A re-examination of theories of marginality. Afiicr~57(2): 234-258. Gruenbarrm, E. 19992, The Islamist state and Sudanese women. Mici~tleJ.ast Report; Nov.Dec., pp. 29-32, Holy L. 1988. Gender and ritual in an Xslarnic society: The Berti of Dark~r,1M1ilrt 23(3): 469-487. I-lrtrreiz, S a w d . 1991. Zar as ritual psychodrama: From cult to cfuh. In W<1merz"r;?zedici~e: The zur-bori cult in Africa and beyond ed. I.M. Lewis, Ahmed Al-Safi, and Sayyid Ht~rreiz, Edinbt~rgh:Edinburgh University Press for the International African Institute. James, W, 1980. T11e shanty towns of Port Sudaxl, In Urbarzization and uri?ulz Iqe in the Sudun, ed, V. Pons. Khartourrr: Devetopmellt Studies and Research Centre, U~~iversity of Khartorrxn. Janzer~,J, 19778, Lembu, ICiS&1930: A drzrrn ofl~flicijonirz Aficu and the New WorW, NW York: Garland Press. Kel~oe,A, and H, Gilfeti, 1981. Women's preponderance in possession cults: The calcium deficier-rcyhy&?othesisextended. Amen'cl~rzAnthrl1polr1gifl83:5.29-56 1. Ke~~yon, S,M, 199la. Five tvclvrren c$Senvzar: Culture amr7d chmuzge in cerrtrul SzlrZauz. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 19925. The story of a tin box. Xn IVornenk medicine: The zar-lrori cult z'ra Aficu arzd bcrynr~d,ed. I.M, Lewis, Al-rmedAI-Safi, and Sayyid Ht~rreiz,Edinburgh: Edinburgh Uniwrsity Press for the International African Institute, 1994. Urban spirits in cel-rtrat Sudan: Male vc~icesin fematc bodies. Paper presented at the Central States Anthropological Society annual meeting, Kansas Gity, Aprif. n,d. The red wind of Serznar, Manscript in preparation. . York: Kramer, F, 19993. The redfez: Art uuzd sj~iritpossession in Africa. Trans. M, G ~ e nNew Verstl Press,

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PART FOUR igion and the State IT

SHOULDN'T BE S U R P R I S I N G that the contested border area between religion and politics is strewn with land mines or that among the most explosive issues are the very definitions of these terms. After all, ethnocentrism in the form of Western or Euro-American bias has been a major source of intellectual contention and scl-tolarlydisagreement in both disciplines, For example, students of the anthropology of refigion still debate whether the term stdpernaturat may be applied trt all-or any-religions, whereas after decades of lzeated debate students of the antl-tropology of politics are still not in agreement on a definition of state. Some scholars use this term to characterk~e any society where a few rufe and the rest obe5 others orzly in those cases where tlzere is a clear, centralized authority with the power to cornmancl obedience. If one takes the latter position, how does one characterize a society in which the wielders of power constitute a clear centralized authority-but only of a group of weaponless clerics, Is srtc1-t a society a ""sate""? Some anthropcrlogists stress other characteristics in defining the state (at least the modern state) and include, as minimat components, a socially stratified political entity with recognizecl borders acknowledged by other states and some form of hetereogeneity among diverse populatic~ngrotzys residing within those borders. Within this framework, ""potitics" is the process by which p o w r and access to strategic resources are allocated between gmuys, Thus, most scholars would agree that one characteristic of the state is that its governing institutions have power. But does ""pwer" imply onfy the capacity to make others do what you want whether they wish to or not, or does it imply ""authc>rityn-the rig!~tto d o so-as well! Again, pcrwer may be easy to perceive when it derives from the end of a gun f""X"1 kill you if you dctn" obey men")or from economic cantrol (""kk>u?lgo hungry if you dan'mbey me'"). Hawever; might not power derive also from religion-say, from a shared belief in the ability of a religious practitioner, if crossed, to call down death or destruction? For some scholars, there is a clear difference between the kinds of power described above. For them, military and eccrnomic power is an objective reality; it exists whether or not you believe in it or agree with those who exhibit it. Refi-

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gious power, so the argument runs, exists only in the mind; deny the existence of gods anci ghosts and evil spirits andlor of my ability to your down wrath upon yorz and my power disappears, There is a counterargument, h o w w r : If yorzr power comes from economic control, Xabctrers might form a union to lessen it, If your power derives from force of arms, f might, like Malzatma Gandhi or Martin Luther King Jr., challenge you, in effect daring you to shoot me, and if I succeed in demonstradng that you dare not, the power of your guns may evaporate as quickly as that of:divinities in whom people no longer Izave Fdith, One impltication of that counterargument is that ycrwer-the ability to coerce-rests upon authority-the rkht to coerce, Thus, members of a given society might agree that tlzeir cleric (priest? shaman?) has the authority to tell them what to dcr (becatzse his vcrice is the vcrice of divinity crr of the ancestc>rs)even if he lacks objective physical err economic mtzscle, And they might alscr agree that a usurper for colonial official) has plenty of muscle but acts witl-rout any authority acceptable to them. It therefore beccrmes difficult if not indeed impossible tc>separate religion and potitics: Both are encttmpassed by idectlogy or belief systems. These chapters explore some of:the many dimensions af the interpenetration of, and tlze contested ground betwen, the domain of social control and the domain of belief, Peter M, Whiteley suggests that early Western anthropological representation af Hopi politics obscured its reality by assuming a disj~znctionbetween religion and politics. Although most ccrntemyirrary anthropologists are aware of the pitfails of this assumption, particularly when analyzing the poXiticaf systems of nonWestern societies, a large body af ethnograylzic data exists a n many cultures around the wcrrld where this disjuncture is assumed and neither demonstrated nor explicitly anatyzed, Douglas Holfan and ktbert P. Weller both explore the question of state efforts at manipulating the structures and ideologies af belief systems and the role of refigion in crafting national identity. Ernelie A, Olison discusses ""the headscarf dispute" as it emerged in Turkey in 1984,but as her analysis makes clear, understanciing religious ideology in the context af state and state policy requires birth historical depth and a culturaffy focused analysis of the sociopolitical contat, As all these clzayters demonstrate, the recognition and exploration of tlze nature of the boundaries betwen religion and politics is no small matter for anthrcrpology and for anthropologists. Much of our literature has to do with societies under cxternaf mifi~ary,economic, and ideofogical siege or control. How did the belief systems of ccrlonialized societies deal with the newly imp<>sedmilitary and economic power structure? (See Chapter f 6.) With indigenous military and political leaders destroyed or taken captive, what could mere clerics do? How might they respond ttr colonial authorities who ctrnsciorzsfy use religionwhether the indigenous belief system or that of the missionary-ta ftzrrther the accupyhg state's interests? And even when the indigenous belief system is seemingly obliterated and replaced by that of the conquerors, how complete in ftact is the ""obtiteration"? (See

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Chapter 13,) May it sometimes be remarkably superficiai-merely new names for what are really the same old divinities or spirits and new rituals, wltl~outsignificant change in values, in perceptions of morality, or in beliefs about catzsation and the intrinsic nature of the uniwrse? (See Chapter 14,) Has there been any significant change at all in whose voice is understood to reyl-esent ""authority""? As these chapters demonstrate, the contemporary rote of the state in the reatm of religion often inwives alliances with one group or movement over anctther in order to assure its power base. In many contemporary states tlzose alliances are not always consistent or predictable, Sometimes they may be formed in the name ~ t "~ecuXari~m" f or "separation of church and state:%but this political rhetoric very often obscures the realities of alliance building, as is clear to anyone who follows contemporary gtobal politics, (See Chapter 15.) Furthermore, once we recognize that religion is inevitably intertwined with nationat and even gtobal politics, we can contemplate Mrithout surprise the different levels of interplay, Witlzin any state in which there are divisions-ethnic, class, sectarian, or whatexr-the belief systems may seek to ameliorate or may serve to intensiQ. Sometimes, when circumstances compef the members of two very different sects to slzare a sacred space, propinquity may lead to accommodation-or, perhaps more frequently, to ccrnflict, And where there is strife beween those who rule and those who are ruled, religion wiif be called upon by bctth sides for justificldtian and h r divine support, just as when, in warfare between European nations, both sides cry out: ""God is with us!"

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3

Pockets l;u of Mista kes The Personal Consequences of Religious Change in a Toraja Village Douglas Hallan

This paper analyses the perscrnal ccrnsequences of religious change in a Toraja village, South Sulawsi, Indonesia, It describes hc~w Toraja villagers traditionafly define and respond to wrongdoing and tlzen examines their ambivalent reactions to alternatives suggested by Christianity, The paper argues that sttzdies which attempt to evatuate the relative costs and benefits of religious change should syeci$ the subjectively perceivecl "fit" "between old ancl new reltgious ccrnceptions and shc~uldexamine the manner in which indivldrxais use cultural symbols and institutions trr order and make sense of their everyday experience. -A~athor"sAbstruct

Indonesian Civil Religion The Indonesian national government has long been faced with the daunting task islands inlzabof forging a madern nation-state out of severat thousancl far-fl~~ng ited by hundreds of different ethnic groups. N i l e acknowledging, and at times even showcasing, the vast cultural and linguistic diversity of its citlzenry,Git lzas nevertheless steadfastly insisted tlzat all the peoples of Indonesia accept tlze five founding principtes of the nation (belief in one God; nationalism; humanitarianism; social justice; and democracy), the Burrcasila, as the basis for participation in, ancl representation by, the national government, One of the most important principles of the Pancasila, from the gc>vernment's point of view, is belief in one God, ketukanan. There are two basic reasons for promating monatlzeism. First, belief in a single God suggests a national consen-

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sus, based on the common acceptance of a superhuman arrthority, which both transcends and unifies an otherwise divisive welter of parochial customs anci Xocal traditional belieb (Atkinson 1983:688). Second, Pancasilahersion of belief in clearly based on a Near Eastern one God and the practice of religion (~lgama), model,2 is historically associated with political autlzority in Illdonesia (for exampie, the connections between Islam and the indigenc>rzskingdoms of Java and Sumatfa and b e ~ e e nCbrisdaniv and the Dutch colonial government) and with some of the government's own most cherished goals anci aspirations: literacy and edtzcation, wealth, sophistication, cosmopolitanism, ""progress3~and social advancement fihtlcinson f 983:686-689). As Atkinson noes, ""Monotheism is linked here with the central pofiticaf and social values of the state" (l9833688). Thus, in the Indclnesian ccrntext, belief in a single god and the practice of religion implies allegiance to the gc>vernment3spolitical authority and to its policies of nationalism and modernixation. There are, however, groups of: people in Indonesia today, primarily rural, erlznic minorities, who violate official religious pcrlic-y by attempting to maintain a traditionat paRern of life centered around the ritualized veneration and propitiation of localized spirits anci ancestors. From the government's point of view, such people are not only ignorant and bachard, but they appear to reject the goals of nationalism and modernization (Atkinson 1983:688). So perceived, they are considered a hindrance to nation-building and ripe for government-directtrd rehrm. Indeed, officiafs often refer to them as amng yarzg belurn beragama, those who d c ~ not yet possess a retigion. The "not yet" i s significant because it iixpfies that col~versionto a recopized religion is inevitable.Wl~ereasone would ilot assert that someone of one ethnic group was ""notyet" uaernber of another ethnic grcj-cty,or that a member of one recognized religion was ''not yet" a axerxber of another religion, there is an imperative for a person who has not cax~vertedto an of&cially approved religion to do so {Plllkinsorz 1983:688).' Gowrnment denigraticln of ""backward" ways of living and the expectation that all Indonesians will eventually become members of an officially reccrgnized religion are part of a not-so-subtle government policy to draw ethnic minorities into the nationalist fold. m a t are the social and cultural consequences of this pcrlicy? By encouraging minority groups to become members of recognized religions, or by insisting that tlzey j u s t i ~their own beliefs and practices in terms of agamu, the government contributes to the fragmentation and desacratization of traditional minority cultures (Acciaiofi f 985). Suclz traditional cultures provide a world view and a model for human action, often referred to as allat, whiclz does not draw a sharp distinction bemeen the sacred and the profane. Indeed, traditional custom derives its moral, directive and explanatory force from the fact that it is tinged with a sacred aura anci backed by supernatural and ancestral sanction. Increasingly> howexr, these views of the world are being chaltenged by the teachings of government-favored religions and ideotogies. As l o c a f i ~ dspirits and ancestors are

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superceded by ""God" or by a distant, impersonal. creator figure within the traditional mythology, and as religious beliefs are self--.conscio.t~sly compared anci rationalized (Geertz 19731, much of the indigenous culture is being stripped of its numinous nature and a process of secularization is begun f Bruner 1979, Acciaioli 1985). Custom becomes separated from belieg religion is distinguislzed from art and other aspects of mundane culture; and rituat becomes ceremrrny or perfirmance, perhaps useful as a badge of ethnic idendty or to please tourists, hut no longer alive a r of:true religious significance (Acciainli 1985, Bruner 1979, Siregar 1979, Volkman 1984, Hoskins f 987).

Focus and Setting The government-promated homogenization of religion in Indonesia today raises questions of central importance in the anthropological study of religious anci social change: how do individuals respond to, and cope with, culture contact anci externally generated change? Wl~atare the personal costs and benefits of such change? More generally, what are the effects of changing religious and sodocuttural systems on the psychological adjustment af individuafsZ4 To answer such questions, it is necessary to shift the focus from an examination of changes in cultural and religioxrs symbols to concern with how such clzanges in the distal sociocultural environment are interpreted within tlze proximal environment of face-to-face interactions and intra-personal dialogue (LeVine 1982:90).TTh concern with the more personal consequences of religious change-requires an assessment of the quality of religious belief (the forms and meanings it has for specific individuals; Levy 1969) as well as an examination of the way in which people use cultural and religious symbots to order and male sense of their daily experience (Crapanzano 1980, Obeyesekere 198 1, LeVine 1982).7

In the present paper I address tl-tese issues by considering the impact of:Christianity, one of: Indonesia's officially recogni~edreligions, a n tlze traditional structure of conscience and morality in a Toraja viHage, Sorzth Sulawesi, Indonesia, The specific focus is on the subjective perception of the fit b e ~ e e nChristian and traditional conceptions of wrongdoitlg. The Toraja are one of only two ethnic minorities in Indcrnesia who have gained go.l.ernment approval of their traditional betiefs and practices by rationalizing them as a variation of an existing recagnizeci religion.Wowexr, this has not prevented the graduat secularization of Toraja society in a process similar to the one cited above, Indeed, the number of people who remain self-professed adherents of the traditional beliefs and practices, AZtak Meuse:9 is rapidly diminishing. It is clear to most Toraja that Cbristianity is the religion of the future, associated as it is with natic~nafism,educatic~n, modern medicine, and employment in the cash economy Alzrk Nene: on the ather hand, despite its current official recognition, still suffers tlze stigma of: an earlier image, one promoted by both the U ~ ~ t cand h the pre- 1969 national government, that it is the religion of the poor, the backward, and the illiterate. It is

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for this reason that today>al~nostall young Toraja convert to Christianity sametime during their early education. As we shall see, however, this trend toward the Christianization of the %>rajais often nominallQnd not without its costs, both social and psychological. X begin with a brief description of the Toraja setting, including a lzistorical note on the introduction of Christianity to the South Sulawesi highlands.. I then describe the way Toraja viltagers traditionally define and respond to wrongdoing and examine their reaction to alternatives suggested by Cllristianity. In brief, X will argue that the reaction is characterized by ambivalence. W i l e on certain levels villagers experience Christianity as a liberation from the exacting demands ctf tlzeir traditional beliefs, tlzey also recognize that in other respects, Christianity violates basic cultural understandings about the nature and interdependence trf the world's inhabitants. My comments are based on, fieldwork (Hoftan 1984, 1'388,n,d,f that X cmducted Asu,ll nnorthwst with Jane Wellenkamy ( 1984, f988a, 1988b) in the village of Pzik~~ Tana Toraja, from 1982 throtzgh 1983. Introduced by an illiterate Tbraja man whc:, later married into the village, Christianity did nctt come to Paku Asu until the late 1940s. Today lzalf of tl-te adrtlt residents remain adherents of tlze traditional religion. m i i e the relative strength. of tradition in this village is somewhat unusual and may account for the fcjcused and unifctrm nature of some of the misgivings about Christianity discussed betow>I believe tl-tat my inbrmmtsbpinions are not atypical rrf those held by adult, rural villagers throughout Tana 21raja.12 The Tbraja people number approximately 350,000 and live in scattered villages among the steeply terraced rice fields and bamboo hrests of the northern highlands of Sotzth Sulawesi, Indonesia. Although rice is considered the principal foodstuff, the Toraja supplement their diet by growing gardens of cassava, s w e t potataes, and assorted vegetables. A vilage is usually jointfy governed by a low-lexl civil servant loyaf to the national government and a traditional headman. Status and prestige within the traditional sociat system is based on two sometimes contradictory criteria: 1) descent from ancestc>rs,traced bilaterally; and 2 ) the ntzmber and kind of animals slaughtered at community kasts, Introduction of Christianiv The Toraja were the original inhabitants of the mountains of South Sulawesi. Althc~ughat least part of the Tbraja highlands paid tribute to the Buginese kingdom of Luwu prior to the 19th century, the geographical isolation of the 1S"orsjakept tlzem relatively free of lowlanci politics, religion, and culture until tlze last quarter of the 19th century, when Toraja warlords began to prcjvide Buginese kingdoms with coffee and slaves in retrtrn for firearms (Bigalke 1981). This tramc with the Buginese continued until tlze ljutch entered the Toraja highlands in 1905. Ostensibly, the Dutch came to the highlands as part of their new ""Ethical It"r~lic/v" to educate and promote the welfare of the indigenous peoples of Indonesia. But it

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seems that they also came, in part, to try to control and limit the spread of Islam on Sufawesi and thmughout eastern Indonesia (Vtjlkman 1985). This was slzortly after the prolonged and costly war with the Islamic Acehnese on Sumatra. In the secand task, the Dutch were fargely successful. Seventy years after the introduction of the first mission into Tans Toraja, a clear majority of tlze Tr3raja people consider themselves to be Christians. Much of this religious motPement can be a ~ r i h u t e dto political and economic motives, as the Toraja have attempted to acquire tlze edrtcation, employment, and prestige which both the t>utcb anci the national goxrnment have preferentially awarded to Christians (Bigalke 198 1 , Votkman 1985), However, at least part of it can be explained by the type of proselytization initiated by the t>ut& (Uigalke 1981 ). The early missionaries made a self-conscious attempt to graft Christian doctrine and beliefs onto pre-existing indigenous concepts, This was in keeping with the mission" view, shared by many western theolctgians at that time, that primitive religions had devotved from belief in an authentic Christian-like godhead to a corrupted state of spirit worship and prrlytbeism. By emphasizing the underlying similarities between Christianity and traditional beliefs, the missionaries hoped that they coufd mare easily persuade tlze Tbraja to abandon tlzeir mistaken commitment to multiple spirits and gods and return to the Christian fold. They suggested an identification, for example, b e ~ e e nthe God of Christianity and Pznang Matura, the creator figure of Toraja mythology. Tlley also drew a parallel between Christian and Toraja flood myths" and pointed out that the Toraja reverence for ancestor figures was not unlike the importance placed on genealogical connections in the Old Testament (Uigalke 1981: 152). These early efforts at refigious accctmmrrdation have been mirrored by adherents of Aluk Nerie: wlzo attempt to stretch indigenous beliefs to fit the content and structure of Cliristianity, This is done partly as an attempt to minimhe the cognitive dissonance resulting from the introdtzction of novel Christian ideas, and in more recent years, partly as an attempt trt rationalize local beliefs and practices in terms of government approved religion. Villagers contend, for example, that the spirits of the traditional pantheon, the deuta, serve as a bridge to Puautg Marua, the creator figure, in the same way that Jesus serves as an intermediary with God. Others deny that the Toraja are pagans who offer devotion to the rocks, trees, and heavens. Rather, they are monotheists who wctrship God in His three forms, Puung Matua (the creatrtr), deata (spirits), and neneyancestors), some of wl-tich just happen to inlzabit parts of tl-te natural environment (Volkman 1985:368). There are afso attempts to explain and minimize obvious differences in the two belief systems, for example, the fact that Atuk Nerzeqdctes not possess a holy book. One informant reported that God lzad once given the Toraja a book similar to the Bible or the Koran, but that God" messenger had dropped it in a river while bringing it to the hightands. The Toraja asked God to repface the book, but He rehsed, saying that thenceforwarci, His wisdom would be inscribed in the hearts of the tradidonal priests, the tu rninaa, and wctuld be passed through the generations by word of mouth,

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Attempts to render the two retigions more compatibie are nctt always successful, however. fn the fc~llowingsections X explore what villagers tacitly perceive as a disjunction betwen Christian and traditional notions of wrongdoing,

Traditional Nations o f Wrongdoing Traditicznafly, the people of Paku Asu organize their lives in accordance with the accumulated wisdom af their ancestors, the altak (prescriptions) and petnull (prohibitions). These are passed down orally from one generation to the next, and constitute the moral guidelines of human behavior, The guidelines determine haw ht~manssfzould behave in relation to supernatural beings, dead ancestors, ancl other humans., They regulate everything from childcare, dietary restrictions, and kinship obfigations to agricultural rites and funeral procedures. Violaticrn of these guidelines may be punished by the omnipresent ancestors and spirits. Punishment may be directly punitive, as in the form of: illness or death of humans, crops, a r fivestock, or it may be indirect, as in the withdrawal of gifts of good fortune. In either case, it m2y be indiscriminate in the sense that the misfortune m2y not fall direct@on tl-te actual wrongdoer but a n his or her family or neighbors, their descendants, or the community as a whcrle. In short, members of the community are jointly and corporately responsible for violations of the aluk and pemati, M The comprehensive nature of the aluk and perrlafi (the Toraja say that there are at least 7,777 rules of conduct 15) has the paradczxicai effect of both clearly demarcating the path of ~ouble-freebehavior and of cluttering the path with so many moral signposts that infractions become inevitable." As Ambeka" Tc~dingputs it, "Humans mtzst make as many mistakes as they have hair on their heads. That's the way it is, None of us can say that W haven't made mistakes'tla m e n Ambeha Toding talks abcrut peoylte violating the aluk and pemali, he says that they make ""mistakes" Gala"), Making a mistake involves violating a rule, knowingly or unknowingly, which should have kept one out of troubte, The ""knowingly or unhawingly" is significl~nt,Whetlzer or not one intends to violate a rule is irrelevant in determining who commits a mistak; what matters are one's actions or overt behaviors (whether or nctt one has in fact violated a ruXe), not one's thoughts, feelings or lzidden desires, Transgressions thus defined, moral behavior becomes the avoidance of the sorts of mistakes and errors that will trigger community disapproval or supernatural retribution. And in turn misfortune, such as unusual tXIness or death in tlze community, may be interpreted as retribution for a mistake that has been made. This sense of morality and wrongdoing, one found elsewhere in the Pacific (e.g. Levy f973), is very different from the Christian, especially Protestant, concept af sin. The emphasis is not a n inherent wickedness and the need to overcome this through selfless altruism, asceticism, and pure thoughts and intentions, but ratl-rer on obeying the rufes and staying out of trouble. But if mistakes are ""as frequent as the hair on one's head'; how are these errors corrected so that punishment is avoided? There: are several traditionat cere-

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monies in which the Toraja ask for forgiveness of their mistakes. Among these are large, communal feasts (e.g. the rna'~turo1~g) ancl smaller it~dividuallyinitiatecl prayer sessictons (e.g. ~zangl'mbo).In addition, one ceremony (massurza" is specifically designed for the correction of mistakes. The word naruYiterally means "to comb" or "to groom" When used in the context of atonement surzr3has two figurative meanings. It describes the process whereby the confusion and disorder (both mental and social) resulting from moral transgression is disentangled, combed-out, and ordered; and it suggests tlzat this process is also a purification or cleansing, as hair and scalp are cleaned in the process of grooming.20 The essentiat elements in the correction or disentangling of mistakes are confession and sacrifice. Confession is acknowledgement to the ancestors, spirits, and public that a mistake has been made, In many cases, confessions are self-mcoti~l-tted.That is, individuals suffering from various types of misfortune, for example crop failure or the death of a child, fearing that sucl-r misft3rtune is in rebibution for present o r past mistakes of self or forebears, step forward to admit transgressions, By so doing, they hope to avoid further punishment, Ccrnfessions may not afways be so straightfcjrward however. Because retribrrtion may be indirect, there may be confttsion over tlze identity of tlze wrongdoer. When this is the case, a family or ccrmmtznity as a whole may have to decide who is responsible far the ancestorshnd spirits\etribution, As Neneka Tandi suggests, sometimes the group will searclz among tl~emselvesuntil they find a culprit: For example, if Tat~diand Belo were close relatiws and yet had sex together, the evidence of their mistake [the IIIness or other misfortur~esent by the ancestors or spirits] mity not be tied closely to either Tdndi or Belo. The ptznishrnent xnight hit another family or the entire community. But then the people in the village will think, "Maybe these are sorne close relatives in the village who have had sex together". They21 Inok artci look and look until they find out who did it.

In other cases, the identity crf the wrongdoer may be dear (either because the wrongdcrer confesses of his or her cwn accord or because the type and timing of retribution is clearly linked to a particuiar person or family), and it is only the specific nature of the mistakes that is uncerfain. 111 suc11 cases, a religious fttnctionary, catlted a to ~za'naa,may be called in to help look for and identie the transgressions of the guilty party. The to mir-tuu delves into the most private corners of the wrongdoer's life, He scours the wrcrngdcrer from his ""rrrots" tcto his ""branches" looking for ""mistakes of the hands, mistakes of the Iegs, mistaks of the mouth, and mistakes of the eye': Part of the examination consists of the to minua asfiing the wrongdoer whether he or she has ever ccrmmitted particular mistafees (e.g. slander or adultery). But the search is no"rimited to what the wrongdoer is willing to reveal about him or herself. The to minua will also interview neiglzbors ancl Family in an attempt to gather a complete record of the wrongdoer's misdeeds, Neneha Tandi suggests the thorough nature of the search h r mistakes in the following passage:

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If someorze has mistakes, the villagers must look for them until they are forrnd, beginiling at the roots aIL the way to the leaves. They start looking on the outside of the wrc>rzgdoerand then move to the inside. Everythir-rgmlxst be opened jalt the wrongdoer's smistakes]! They look with the eye, but they search the wrongdoer" heart. They search his legs, Iiis hands, Iiis eyes, his mouth, Iiis heart- Everythirzg rnust he inspected! They say, "Have you ever hit anyone?"And tlze wrongdoer wifl reply, "Yest I liave". "Have you ever abused people?""""Ihave". ""Haveyorx ever slandered someone?" "Yes". So that" wl~y1 say you begin with his legs and arms and go to his eyes That's how mistakes are looked for, They may even start lookng from the time the wrongdoer was not yet an adult, until the sickliess arose [the retribution for wrt)agdoi~ig], For example, xnaybe he threw soxnething and hit sumeclne when he was young and lie must be sick hefore he wilt acknowledge it. So everything must he opened, everything xnust be examined,

Xf a transgression, once identified, is not particularly serious, confession and acknowI.edgement alone may bring disentanglement. When identified and canfessed mistakes are of a more serious nature, the wrongdoer must make a sacrifice before the correction is complete, In these cases, the violations of the utuk and pemati are seen as debts which must be paid for with sacrificial animals. The cost of the sacrifice is rotzghly equivalent to the magnitude of the mistafee and is determined by two basic criteria: (X) the type and serlausness of the mistake and ( 2 ) the position of the wrongdoer in the moral lzierarcby of tlze commt1nity.2~ With regard to the second point, high status, watthy people and retigious functionaries are thought to be more responsible for maintaining the succttur of povverfuf spirits and ancestors. m e n such. people misbelzave, tlzeir punishment is more severe and widespread and the ccrst of their absoltztion, in terms of the numbers and kinds of animals that they must sacrifice, is correspondingly gl"eatex= Once a mistake has been ackncrwledged and, if necessary, a sacrifice made, the wrongdoer is considered to be "dean as a plate" b a s e r 0 pindan), That is, he or she is dcared of wrongdoing and is no longer a target of s~tpernatrtrafretribution. While it is impcrrtant to recc~gnizethe cleansing, sancti@ing aspect of Toraja cttnftession and sacrifice, it is also important to note its pragmatic and sctmewhat mechanical tone. It is spoken of as tlze paying of- a debt (wbiclz settles one's account witli the spirits and ancestors) and as medicine for the retributive illness or misfortune. The pragmatic tone of absalrttion is in keeping with the nature of:tlze retationships among htzmans, spirits, and ancestors that it seeks to repair. These are based on reciprocal obligations and duties which are often expressed and validated in terms of excl~ange(Hollan f984:76-82).2Thus if humans fulfil1 their obligations to the spirits and ancestors as deffned by the aluk and perrzafi, they have in effect indebted these powerful beings to them and they can expect gifts of wealth and prosperity in rettlm. If, however, humans tail in tlzese obligations, in other words, if they make mistakes, then it is they who are indebted to the spirits and ancestcrrs and the flow ctf walth and prosperity will cease until the debt is paid.

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Indeed, it is because traditionat fctrms of absatuticzn are consistent with a wider set of unclerstanclings about the nature of humans and other-tlzan-humans ancl hcw they interact, that wrongdoers firmly believe in their utility and efficacy. Ambeha Toding, for example, says: With traditional waiys, no xnatter how many xnistakes we make, if we sacrifice a c1iicEeen or a pig, werything is well ~lgain.Even iftliere are thousands of mistakes, no matter how many there are, if we sacrifice and acknowledge our mistakes, "1 have this mistake or I liave that mistake", everythirzg is ~e11.2~

The Christian preachers of Paku Asu, both native Tctrajans, tell a very different story about the nature of immoral behavior and how that behavior is punishecl andlor absolved. In brief, they tell tlzeir cangregations tlzar the Christian God does not enforce many of the old aluk and perrlali rules, including the once important dietary regulations, does not demand the ritual sacrifice of anirnats in return for blessings and prosperity and often grants abfolution of wrongdoing in return for a simple private prayer in which the wrongdc>erasks forgiveness for his or her sins. While the Christian God may sometimes continue to punish wrongdoers with illness or misfc~rtunein tlze present life, His primary sanction agait~st improper behavior is the threat of banishment to Hell follczwing death. Given the traditional ftrarnework of wrongdoing and its disentangfement sketched above, how do the villagers of Paku Asu receive these Christian messagesxn a word, with ambivalence, On the one hand villagers, both Christian and tradttionatists, interpret Christian doctrines as a liberation from the more exacting demands of the traditional ~ l i g i o nAs . tlzey understand it, Christianity replaces the comprehensive and eAaustive rules of the aluk and pemali with a relatirsely short list of yrcthibitions, the Ten Ccjmmandments. It is a relief to them to think that they no tonger have to abide by a moral code which they too often felt as constrictive, burdensome, and threatenhg, Those who have adopted the Christian way of life revel in the ftact that they can eat rice at a funeral, or plant and harvest crops without first making a sacrifice to the spirits, X n short, the rules and regulaticrns of Christianity are felt tt3 be less ""Etay" boot psychc~lc>gically and emnomically, than those of the traditional religion, This perception of the new religion as permissive stems in part from a tack of appreciation of9ancl indig ference to, its other-worldly sanctions, For peoylte whs~are much interested in the state of their material existence in the present life, the concepts of Heaven and Hell do not as yet arouse or motivate much concern. On the other hand, there is caution about how far this new-fotznd freedom can be carried and a recttgnitictn that in, certain important respects, the permissiwness of Christianity violates basic cultural understandit~gsabout the nature of htzman-supernatural relationships. For example, villagers find it puzzling that the Christian God will prctvide prosperity and well-being in return for mere ohe-

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dlence and submission, expressed in prayer, without also requiring a more substantial, material offering. Little in tlzeir personal and social experience, based as it so often is on reciprocal obligations and duties, prepares them for such a relatively non-contingent refationship.zThey do nctt, therefcjre, simply reject out of hand the ofd code of conciuct and its attendant sanctions, Indeed, many Christian villagers persist in believing that misconduct may be punished by illness or death, nomithstanding any beliefs they may atso hold about Well. When I asked one promitlent Christian, Ambe'nna Patu, wl-tat lzappens to people who sin, fie replied, "Those who sin will feel sick or their children will die, They71 get sick or lose all of their wealth, That" the way it is if you sin". Note tl-tat Ambe'r-ta Pdtu believes that the sins of:an adult Christian may be visited tzpon his or her children. The persistence of the traditional belief in indirect retribution is made even more dear in a story told by a Christian school teacher about the tragic history of a village called Serrin. According to Ambehna Sampe, tlze people of Serrit-t tong suffered an unusually lzigh child mortality rate. This pattern of misfortune contintzed for several generations before it was recalled that the village3 ancestors had once murdered a Christian missionary. It. was only afier the people of:Serrin organized a public feast to acknowledge their ancestors' crime and to ask Gcrd's forgiveness, that their children were no longer struck by illness and premature death, Xt is the continuing fear of supernatural retribution which prompts villagers to attempt tcr disct)ver, often by trial and error, which of the rules of the atuk and pemali the new God continues to enforce and which He does not. Neneha Tandi, a deacon in one of the village churcl-tes, provides an example: The traditional people say that it is prollibited to eat meat that has been slaughtered at a funeral and then work in the fields, because if you do, yc?ur crops will die, After I became a Christian, I decided that X sitzorrld test this rule, I: ate death meat and then planted some pepklem in 1my garden. Thl-ee days later I m a t back to look at how the peppers were doing and ail the plants were dead. Dead as a ctlryse! So I thought to myseff, it's sot true what some peopfe say, that there are no pemtnli for Christians. Those dead pelsrpers prove that Christians also have peurruli.

just as Weneha Tandi mistrusts those who say that Christians are no longer subject to the traditional taboos, he is also less than certain that Christian abscsluticrn is as thorough or efficacious as the traditional method, According to Nene'r-ta Tandi, when a Christian gets sick and feels that lze is being punislzeci by God," he hecalls together preacher and church members to pray for him. As Neneha Tand-i describes it, the preacher asks the siclc person where he feels sick, how long he lzas feIt sick, wl~erehe first began to feel sick, and so on, but lze does not ask any persc>naf questions about what sort of sins or mistakes the person may have committed, Instead, the preacher merely calls upon the members of the congregation to pray for the sick person's recovery. Weneha Tandi says that such a perfunctory examination of the wrctngdcrer allows Christians to ""hide their mistaices in their poclcets" and he implies that: this

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lack of rigor leaves open the possibility of continued illness and punishment, since the sick person is not forced to reveal his or her mistakes under intensive examination, fr is only tlze public acknowledgement of-wrongdoing anci tlze disentangling, reordering, and reintegration of troubled social and supernatural relations which this exposure promotes, that insures a return to indkidual and community wetf-being. As he puts it: The traditional people must look fix a mistake until it Is found, heginning from the roots all the way to the jerzves [from foot to bead]. But Christians only ask, "IVhat ki~ldof sickness do you have?" "after that, we pray. But it could be said that this procedure is not right, my do I gay not right? Because this procedure only Iooks on the outside of the sick person, not on the inside. The traditional people start on the outside too, hut they also look orz the Inside. They open everything for inspectisr~.But we Christians just look on the outside. That's why X say that Christians store their sins in their pockets. We Christians don't do it right. The traditionalists wilt search for a sick person" smistakes until they are ft>u~tund,But not the Cilristians. That is a mistake [not to look for the sick person" 'hktakes"].

Nene'na Tdndi3s not alone in lzis sense that Christian rules and regulations &l1 short of the standards set by the traditional religion. Indeed, many Christian informants claim that they and the community as a whole pay a price for the freed o m ~they enjoy under Christianity. They prrint to faliing rice production, decreasing human longevity, wctrsening problems with rats, insects, and other pests and wistfully adrnit that the yuaiity of life seems to be inversely related to the popularity and growth of the Christian cl-turch.2h Discussion and C-onclusion

I began by as&ng two interrelated questions about the personal consequences of religious change in Toraja: (1) lPJhat is the impact of Christianity on the traditional structure of a3nscience and mrrrality? and (2) What are the specific ccrsts and benefits of this change? I will address both issues befitre concluding with a comment on the study of social and cultural change in Indonesia. ( I ) Assuming for the moment tlzat Neneha Tandi" seatements are representative of otl-ter adult Cl-tristians in the cammunity, as I believe they are, I would argue that the introduction of Christianity into P a h Asu has not yet greatly altered the structure of Toraja conscience nor significantly changed the system of sanctions against immoral behavtor, We have seen that though Christians have reduced the number of tlze uluk anci pematz"to which they hold themselves accountable, tlzey have by no means completely rejected the old rules. Furthex; tl-tey still believe that the rules that are enforced by the Christian God may be punished with visitations of illness or death. Such immediate sanctions are, for the present, far more gripping to the typical villager than are the other-wctridly sanctictns of Heaven and Eletl.27 Thus the thrust of moral beharsior remains the mvaiifatzce of

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the types of mistakes and errrtrs (transgressions of rules) that result in community disapproval or supernatural retribution. Despite this apparent continuity, the increasing shift from communal to private confession and absolution ofwrctngdoing is not a trivial change. If its irnmediate effect is that wrongdoers can more easily evade the public exposure of their mistakes, store their mistakes in their pockets, as Neneha Tandi wc~uldsay, one might guess that its Iong term effect will be a focusing of the sense of personal responsibility anci a shift awdy from the sense that others (human or supernatural), with their rules and ever watchful eyes, share responsibility fbr beping one on the morat, path and out of trouble. If this happens, one might atso guess tlsat beliefs about retribtltian will change in that retribtltian will become more direct., that is, more focused tzpon particular wrongdoers and less likely to affect refated persons and groups, (2) AduXt villagers of Palcu Asu are ambivatent about the retigious changes occurring today, Many are pleased to be associated with a nationally ancl intemationally recognized religion (Christianity),which in their minds, is both a symbol of, and part of a design for, the fruits of modernity (e.g., educatictn, medicine, and ernployxnent in the cash economy), Many are also greatly relieved that Christianity, as they understand it, abc~lishessome of the more b~zrdensomeand andew-provoking rufes of the traditional culture (e.g., strict dietary restrictions and frequent, refattvely expensive offerings to the gods and spirits). But tl-tere is also an tzneasy sense that the rules for proper and pro~erou&uman behavior are no longer so clearly defined and that this moral canfusion leads to offenses against tlze supernatural order whiclz are no longer so easily or effectively absolved, Thus the perception that the length and quality of fife are declining tznder Christianity. From a psycho-cultural perspective, this ambi~aXenceis n o ~ n e x p e c t e dm , ile the introriuction of Christianity has in Pact redrtceci some of- tl-te stress engendered by Toraja culture (for example, by efirninating onerous taboos), it has alscr displacled an effective means of controfling, expressing, and ctxternatixing a diffuse and unfocused sense of- wrongdoit~g,the mussmru?ceremony (e.g. Spiro 1965, Crapanzano 1973, Obeyesekere 1981).2XOne wcjuld expect a sense ofc'"dsease" to continue unless and until changes in family structrtre, interpersonal. retatianships, and world view slzape a different type of conscience and moral awareness, one that is more individually rather than colfectivety based, or until Toraja Christianity develops a more srztis+ing form o f expiation for a sense of wrongdcting that is generated by the institutionalization of callective resyonsibility.29 (3) In a review of several recent studies of social and cultural change in Indonesia, Davls (1 979) criticizes anthropologists and other social scientists who either ignore tlze change occurring in Indonesia t o d v and instead focus on cultural continuity, or achowtedge the change, but exaggerate its deleterious effects. She argues that ""There is a metropolitan superculture" which inctudes, I presume, the monotlzeistic religion discussed in this paye;E;and tlzat "it is undeniably reaching otzt and homogenizing the countryside" "(19'79:316). Further, these changes in traditional society and culture are often actively pumued by the peo-

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ple of Indctnesia C X979:3 14) and as a result, can be accepted with remarkable ease and comfort (1979:3 16-3 17). f agree with Llavis that many peoylte in the rural areas of fndcznesia cb.~ooseto adopt the modern style of life promoted by the naticznal government, which in many Rspects tlzey see as being superior to their own, ancl that such people are less likeb to lament the loss of traditional culture than are those whtz have a professional stake in recording and interpreting it. Many Toraja, for example, are far more interested in buying radios, televisions, and watcl~esand in sencling their children to school than they are in understanding or preserving a fertility ritual, Though they sense that the wctrld is nett as perfectly ordered now as it once was and tlzey are sometimes troubled by unresolved feelings of guilt and wrongdoing, they are not so uncomfortable that they would wilingly forgo the modern advantages that they now possess and return ttt a traditional pattern of life. For them there is n0 going back. It is important to recognize this active, sometimes voluntaristic aspect to social and cultural change in Indonesia and to note that the consequences of change can be interpreted very differently depending upczn whether one is an ""isider" ~ t u a l l yparticipating in the process of change or an ""outsider" who merely observes the process tlnfold (Bruner 1976). Nevertheless, I think that Llavis reacts too strongly to the shrzrtcomings of past research and errs in the opposite direction by implying that culture and tradition can be abanclonecl at will with few, if any, ill effects (1979:3 16). This position is flawed for two reasons, First, it tztpergeneralizes, In this regard it resembles the positiclns taken in an earlier, ultimately sterile debate in the social sciences in which one side arguecl that modernization and secularizatian must it~evitablyexact a high social and psychological cost (e.g. Fatlers 1955, Slotkin 1960) while the other side responded, in equally exaggerated fashion, that modern social conditiczns are rarely worse, and are often much better, than the chronic insecuril-~fand anxiety which people experience in subsistence-based traditional communities (e.g. Inkeles and Smith 1970). Second, Davis fails to point out that culture may be internalizecl to various degrees (Spiro f984:328) ancl tlzus cannot alwdys be slipped into and out of at will. As a rule, that part of culture that has become integral to the psychology and ethos of a people does not change as rapidly as other parts of the social and cultural environment (for ccf ssic examples, see Hallowell 1955, Spindler 1955, Catzdill 19'76),f0 This lag betrtveen instituticznal change and psychological adjustment is always a potential source of conflict and discomfort, the nature ancl intensity of whiclz will vary with the degree of fir between the new institutions and the personal needs and concerns of individual actc>rs.31 Pdrtly as a result of tlze government's nationalistic policies, etlznic minorities tlzrouglzout Indonesia are t~ndergoingrapid social, cultural, and lreligious change. This is an important, tzndeniable, and too little examined fact of life in ccrntemporary fndctnesia, If we wish to examine the relative costs and benefits of these clzanges, it is necessary to avoid facile generalizations about the inhet-ent ease or diffic~zltyof the change process. Rather, we should attempt to specify the subjectively perceived fit between the old and new by examining the manner in which

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individuals use culturat, symbctls and institutions, both new and traditional, to order ancl make sense of their daily experience. Only after sucl~an examination can W begin t o determine, with any degree of accuracy, whether a given change in the sociocultural environment is beneficial to the people involved, deleterious and disorienting, or, as in the case of the Toraja, a complex mkture of:bath. Notes I have gready benefited from Jane WeLlenkamp's comments and editorial srrggestions. I would also iike to thank Jane Atldnson, Sheily Errington, Ken George, and an anonymous referee for their carehi reading of carliier drafts. Funding fr)r tllis research was prwided by T11e Natiot~aiScience Foundation; The Natiot~af. Ix?tstitutesof Mental Health; The Wenner-Gren Foundation far Arzthropolagical Research; Sigma Xi, the Scientific re scar cl^ Sociev; and the Ofice of Graduate Srudies and Research, University of California, San Diego, Sporzsorship in Indorzeslia was provided by ternhaga Ilrntt Pe~~getahr~an It~donesiain Jakarta and by Ulliversitas Hasanuddin in lijung Pa~ldang. l . For example, the national govemmcnt boasts of a museucn of ethnic exhibits in Jakarta. 2. There are six recognized religions: Isfarn, Protestantism, Cathoiicism, Rrxddhism, Coxzhcianism, and Hinduism. Alotlg with these, the traditional religiolls of the Toraja of Sulawesi and the Dayak of Kalimantan l~avebeen recogrtrized as variarxt forms of Hinduism, However, "Wlile Hinduissn and Buddhism are officially recopized religions i11Indonesia, it Is an open secret that they do so by conforming in prrbtic dialogue to a Middle Eastern monotheism" ((Atkinson 1983:688). 3. Atkinson's point that one would not assert that soxneone of one religion was ""nut yet" a member of another religion needs some qualification. %raja Christians claim that their traditional neighbors are ""not yet" Christiatls and refer to them with the derogatory term kuf~ir,""unbeliever" even thor~gllthe traditional religiorx, AEtrk Nene2'wasgranted government recognition as a form of Hinduis~nin 1969. 4, See DeVas ( 1976) for an etahoratiorz of the distinction bemeer1 sociocultural ""adaptation" and p sychofogicat "adjust ment". 5. E'isu ( 1985) calls this prc>xirxtalenvironment ""ifhitnate" society and culture. 6 , Latukefi~ 1978:463) urges a similar refc>c;usingof attention in Oceania. 7. '&l~f~ch has been writtell in recexzt v a r s about the role of symbols in social and ritual life, but little has been written ahout the role such symbols pfay i11the individual" life or its articulation. Anthropologists like Clifford Geerlz, Victor prurner,and, above all, Watlcy Munn have all srrggested that cultural and ritrxai syrnhois affect the way In which the itrdividual experiences his world; but they have not, to xny knowledge, looked in detail to the Individual to substantiate their srrggestionsY(6rapanxano 1980:xi). 8. The %]raja retigion is presurned tc:, be a form of Hinduism (one of Indonesia" sofficiaily recog~~ized retigiurzs), as is the traditional belief system of the Dayak of sorxthern Kaiisnantan. In the Indomsian context, Hinduism is considered a moncitheistic religion. See note 2. 9. Al~lk;Ib ""the way of the people of before" is the name recopized by the government, X: use the term Aluk Nene: "the way of the ancestors': because that is the term used almost uniformly by our Infitrmants.

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IQ. Rigalke argues that it is more appropriate to talk about the "Torajanization" of Christianity (1981). 1 1. This Is a pseudorzym, as are ail personal names, 12. I want to note again that my analysis is based primarily upon observations of and Interviews with aduEtvilitagers. It is people thirty years of age and older-those oid enough to have been encultl~ratedinto a p r e - C h r i s t i a ~ ~ore only newly Cl-tristianizedvillagewho appear to he the most arnblivalent aborxt religious change, X3unger peol~le,orz the other hand, are not only less farxiliar with the dictates of the traditional religion, but having beer1 born into a world in which Christianity was accepted as an integral part of the behavioral erzvirorzme~zt(Hatlowell 19551, they are less likely than their parents to question the veracity and efficacy of the new religion, 13, Versions of a Toraja flood rnyt1-1can be forrnd in Nooy-Palm (1 979) and Crystai (1973). 14, Whether or not a given Individrral or group is actrrally held respcrrzsible for a mis-

take is higl-tty negotiable and depends upor1 such factors as the vidatork status in the comrnunity his or her past behavior, and the severity of the retributive misfortune. 15, I do not rxean to i1xpf-ythat the Toraja think of the uluk and yemafi as an abstract, codified set of laws, adherence to which ctlnstitutes morality, Itather, they are seen as cietaiied and s p ~ i f i glidelines c for action which are important in so far as they help to maintain htrrnan and casxnic order and because their violatioll is thought to be offensix to the ancestors and spirits, 16. Contrast this with the Tahitian case, where Levy argues that extensive, traditionally accepted rules of corzducr help one to avoid misbehavior ( 1873:351). 17. I use the follo~wingteknonyms: Ambeha = father of;Neneha = grandparent of. 18, Tape-recorded ixrterview, 19. There are at Least three other reasons for organizing a marcl ceremc>rly:to rtjund-off and colxplete a high stat~ish~zeral;as a preiiminary ceremony before orgaxzizing and executing the buakeremony (tl-tehighest form of life and fertiiity ritual); and to offer tbanh to the go& for health, prosperity, and well-being. 20. The metaphor of a tarxgied, gnarted, knotted or ruffled substance or a hoiiing, foarning, t~imultuousRuid to express disorder and canfusion, either sociaf or xnental, is common in Toraja lar~g~xage and culture. For example, someorze who is dizzy, confused, or bewildered is said to have 111rnpted hair (van der Veer1 1966:44) or to walk as if in a dense, gnarled undergrcrwrh (van der Veen 1965:144). Someone who Is criticatly ill may he referred to as the one with rl1B1ed feathers or one who is caught in the foa~xing,tr~rnt~ltuous waters of a swiftly flowing cataract or stream (van der Veen 1966:56), Conversely? metaphors suggesting the straightmi~lgout, disentangling, or clearing away of knotted, gnarled substances or the calmirlg and quieting of turbulent fluids are used to sr-rggestthe process whereby disorder and confrrsiorz, whether social, ritrxal, or mental are c>vercome, For example, sound, wise advice teading to ordered personal and social relatiolls is likened to a cfeariz~gin the brush (vat1 der Veen 1"36:30). Atonement and prrrification Is likened to the dise~ltanglingand combing out of knotted, gnarled hair and to the straight, clear, undisturbed flow of water as it falls over the lip of a waterfall or as it moves thrurrgh a deep, unimpeded cha~lnel.Quiet, undisturbed water, in contrast to the turbulence and opacity of rapids or cataracts, is aim used to suggest a state of health and vitality after a period of illness (van der Veen 11365:144). The meticulous and orderly weaving together of disparate tl-treadsinto the panem, integration, and strength of cloth is used to suggest the order and peace of a united community (van der Veen 1965:108) and the strict form

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and proper order of a successfully execrrted ritrxal (van der Veen 1965:27,34,40). The correct and proper way of executing a task, including ritual, is also suggested by the straightness and clean, unambiguorxs lines of a barnboo stal[k (van der Veen 1965:27). It is no accideilt that the satxe xnetayhors are used to talk about both mental and social phenomena. For the Tbraja, social and moral disorder often eventuate In, or are accompanied by, mental dizziness and confusion, And many forms of mental confi~sioncan only be alleviated by disentangling the disordered social and moral relations with wl~ichthey are associated. (For discussions of ""disentangling" elsewhere in the Pacific, see Watsan-Gegeo and m i t e x3.d.) 21. Ag&n, this reckc~ni~lg is subject to e x t e n s i ~negotiation within the family and cornmunity, 22. See LeViine f 1976) and SchieffeIin (1 976) for the importartce of materiai exchange in Africa and New Guinea, 23. Another informant, N e ~ t e h aLilnhong, interprets uEt sacrifices in a pragmatic framework. He says that it is like building a road to gain access to a stockpitc of gcwds or like bringing a bucket to a well. T l ~ egoods are there, yorx just need a way to get access to them. 24, In order far supernatural and religious beIiefs to be accepted as ctlmxnonsense fact, and thus persist over time, they rnllst be grcjunded in the perceptual, copitive, and motivational experiet~cesof individual believers (see Spiro 1978:71-8 1). 25, Not alt iIirtess is the result of supernatural retrihrrtion, Some is ""ordinary" or "t~sual" (saki hiusu), arising frroxn natural causes and of relatively short duration, and some is caused by huma~lbeings ( s l ~ kto i lino) in retaliatiorz for slight or harm. 26, Vilfagers have no way of objectively measuring the quality of life. I am reporting their p e x e l ~ l i oof~ loss and decliire, 27. As Levy points out (1969:128), illlless sanctions have an evidential basis and are cotxpdling for this reason, The doctrirres of heaven and hell, on the other hand, nlust be accepted on ""authority" and are thus more open to doubt, 28. For Xlongot reactions to the loss of colxlrxlu~lalheadhunting rites, see Rosaido f 3 980:285-289,1984). 2% At present, the situatiotl is ambiguous. The loss of young people to school and urban employment (Vofkman 1985:2 32-38) is sl~akingthe foundations of the traditional, collective pattern of life, yet Christianity has been and is being remrked to suit the needs and concerns of iocal communities and villages. Haw, and whether, the ambivalence will be ewntually resolved is a question for future research, 30. For a tkec~reticaldiscussion of social and cuiturai chaxige which takes into account a psychologicai perspective, see DeVos ( 1376) and LeVine ( 1382). 3 1. In the long term, of course, chaxiges in institutional patterns and psychological adjustment are bi-directiorzai and ixtvt,lve a feedback process, That is, just as changes in institutional patterns Iead to new forms of psychological adjustment, new forms of psychulogical adjustment affect the form and direction of future Institrxtional change.

References AcciaioIi, G. 19885, CuIt~lreAs Art: From Practice to Spectacle in Indonesia, Chuzherru Ant h r q ; l ~ l ~8(I&2): :y 148-1172. Atkinson, f. 1983. Religioxls in Dialogue: The Construction of an Indonesian Mintlrity lteligiorz. Arnerkzn BlhsstnEogist 10(4): 684-596.

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Kigalke, T. 1981. A Social History of "Tana Toraja" "70-1965. Doctarai Dissertation. University of Wiscoxlsin, Madison. Kruner, E.M. 1976. Traditirtn and Modernization in Ratalc Society. In G.A. DeVos fed.), Resporzses to Ch~.~~zge: SOCEE~~J, Gulttdre and Perst~r~alitjb: New York I?, Nastraxid Company. 19713. Indonesian Models in Social Action. Xn E.M. Rruner and J.O. Recker (eds.), Art, Ritual arzcl Society in Iftdonesia. Athens, Ohio: Oliio University Gcnter for International Studies. Southeast Asia Series No. 53. Cattdili, W.A. 11376. Social 611a11ge and Cultural Continuity i11Modern Japa11.In G.A. DeVos (ed.), Responses to Chtmtzge: Societ~Culture and Xlev~oz-laliy~ New York: D. Van Nostriad Company. Crapanzano, Y 1973, The Ilamudshat A Study in Moroccun Ethnopsychiatr~~. 13erkeltr;y:University of California Press, 1980. Z'uhumi: Pt~rtmitofn Mc~roccarz.Chicagu: University of Chicago Press. Crystal,, E. 1971. Toradja Town. Doctoral Dissertatior?t.University of Caiifor~~ia, Kerkeltly: Uavis, G. 1979. What Is Modern Ir~donesianCulture? An Epilogue and Exampfe. In C. Dwis fed.), bmi~f Is Moclern J~donesiar~~ cl,'ull-ure%thens, Ql~io:Ohio Universiv Center for International Studies. Southeast Asia Series No, 52. De Vos, G.A. (ed,). 1976. Responses to Charzge: Socletp Ctdlture -2nd persona bit^< New York: U, Van Nostrand Compa~ly Fallers, L. 1955. The Predicament of the Modern African Chief: Axl Instance from Uganda. Atrzer-icwAnthroj~nEqbt57: 290-305. Geerlz, C, 1W3,"Internal Co~~versioll"" in Conternyorary Baii, In C. Geertz, The Znterpretatian tllf<Jtlltmres,New "17(?rk:Basic Books. I-lalijwall,A.I. 1955. Culture and Exjjerknct?,Philadelphia: University of f"e11nsy1~aniaPress. Hollan, D. 1984, ""Disruyti\reW"Bel~avlior in a Toraja Comm~xnitry;Doctoral Dissertation, University of California, San Diego. 1988. Staying "Cool" in Toraja: Informal Strategies far the Management of Anger and Hostifity in a Nosl-violent Society. Ethos 16(1): 52-72, n.d, The Personal Use of CIrealx Beliefs in the Toraja Highlands, Ethos (in press). Hoskins, 1. 1987. Enteri~lgthe Bitter Horrse: Spirit Worship and Conversior~in West Sumba, In R, Kipy and S.R. Siregar (eds,), Xn(kouzesian Religions in Zkt~rzsition. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. I-lsx~,F L K . 1985. The Self in Crc~ss-Ct~ltural krspective. III A.). Marsella, G.A. Uc Vos and F.L.K. Hus (eds.), C:ulttlre ~tnelSel$ A s i ~ nancl JVeslerrz I"erqee'ij11es. New "17(>rk:Tavistock Publications. Inketes, A, and D.N. Smith, 1970. The Fate of Personal Adjustxnent in the Process of Modcrmization, 2'he Pntervzufionaf ]otarnczf r$<;t~nzj~arnriveSocioEogy 11:81-11 114. Latukefu, S, 1978. Conciusiors: ltetrospect and Prospect. In, J.A. Boutilier, D.T. Hughes and S.W. Tiffany (eds.), 4Vl'ssian, Churt-h und Sect in Oceuuzicr, Ann Arbor: University of Miehigas Press, Levine, R A , 1976. Patterns of 13ersonality in Africa. In G.A. DeVc>s (ed.), Xesj~onsesto Churzge: Societ3 Culture -end 1;"enorzrnltty New York: U, Van Nostrand Compa~ly;1982. Culture, Bekruvior uncl Personulip New York: AIdine Pirbiishing Cornpany. Levy>K. 1969. Personal Farms and Meanislgs i11Tahitian Protestantism, li,urrzul de !a SocidfI?'ties CIcetdrzistes 25: f 25- 136, Nooy-him, H, 1979. jl%e Stl"r:Zurt'li?rr;ija.The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff. Obeyesekere, G. 1981. MedusuyaIltrir: Ari lisstty on Personal Sjfmbols atzd Religious Experience Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

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Kosaldo, K. 19880, Ilongot Ffeadjzunting 3883-1974; A Study irz Society urzd FIisiory, Stanford: Sra ndfard University Press. 1984. Grief and a Headhrxnter" Rage: Qn the Ciritrxral Force of Exnotiorzs, Xn S. Plattner and E. Brurler (eds,), Text, Play and the Story: The C:onstrtaction and Reci~nstructian tllfSelfurtd Society Washington, D.C.: American Etl~nologicalSociety. Schieffelin, E.L. 11376. 2'he Sorrt~wofrhe Loaely and dze Btlrnirzg [$the &;~acers.New York: St. Martin" 13ress. Sisegar, S.R. 1979.Advice to the NewLyeds: Sipirt~kNatak Wedding Speeches-Adat or Art? In B M . Bruner and J,Q, 13ecker (eds.), Art, Ritual and Society in hdonesin. Athens, Ohio: Ohio University Center for International Studies,.Southeast Asia Series No.53. Slotkin, J.S. 1960. From Field to Fggctclry: iVew Irrdust-riul Ewzl~loyees,Glencoe, IlXinois: The Free Press. Syindier, G. 1955. Sociocultural mr~dPsychological Processes in i;2/1enomirtiAccultuntdon, Rerkeley University of California Pubficatior~sin Crrlture and Society,Vol. 5. Spirt>,M. 1965. Religious Systems as Cuitt~rally-Cc~nstitutecf Defease Mechanisms, In M.E. Sy iro fed.,) Con t a t urzd 1Meurzit~gi~aAnthroj~ol~gy New York The Free Press, 11978, Bur~zeseSuj~ernuturtnfissm. Philadelphia: Institute for the Study of Human Issues. 11384. Sosne Reflections on Cultural Ucterrninissn and Relativism with Special Reference to Emotion and fteason. In E1.A. Shweder and E1.A. LaVine (eds.), Culture Theory: Iiss~iysOPT*lLilirzd,SeFttnd Emotion, Carnhridge: Cambridge University IJress. %n der k e n , W. 1965. The ,;2/1erokFeast c?ft/ze?;(tdar~I~)~LEc(~LI. S'-Gravenhage:Martinus WijIloE. 1966, 2'he S~~k1tjrz Ili~rnttj~t C;hnrztfir the Llaet~sed.~"Gravenhage:Martinus Nijhoff, TSolkman, T. 1984, Great: Performances: Toraja Cultural Identity in the 1970s. Arnericurt Ethrzologisr 11(1): 152-169, 19885, Feasts cflkznor. Urbana and Chicago: tiniwrsity of Illinois Press. bratson-Gegro, K. and G, White (eds.), n,d, Disentangling: The Discourse of Ct>nflictand Therapy in Pacific Cufttlres. In preparation. Wellenkamy, J.C. 1984. A Psychcrcultural Study of Loss and Death arnong the Toraja. Doctoral Dissertation. Uniwrsity of California, San Diego, 1%8a. Order and Disorder in Toraja Thought and Ritual. IitjznnEogy 27(3), 188h Notions of Grief and Gatl~lassisAmong the Toraja. Americu~Ethnt~Eogbz,11 5(3).

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4

Bandits, Beggars, and Ghosts The Failure of State Control over Religious Interpretation in Taiwan

Throughout the last century, locat temples in Taiwan propitiated socially marginal ghosts in the Pudu (Uni-crersal Salvation Festkl-tl). The traditional state manipulated the ghost cult in an attempt trr enhance its control; the current state is making similar, but less systematic effc~rts.These efforts largely failed, hrrwever, because of the nature of popular interpreta"eon. Popular interpretations of the ceremony experienced several transformations within a basic symbolic framework that defined ghosts as socially marginal beings: ghosts were dangerous outsiders in the cttmmerciafizing frontier of the 1880s, but they have became tlze powerless ofd with tlze cl-tanging &irnily structure of mrrdern Yaiwan. Official and elite attempts at ideological control were unsuccessful becarrse the state had no institution tlzat could challenge the symbolic definition of gl-tostfy marginality, or that corzld channel petryte" flexible reinterpretstlons of ghosts, -AtltFzor"sbsfract

TAIWAN over the Last century: the Qing t>ynasty, a Japanese colonial government, and the current Nationalist government. Each has attempted ttr manipulate popular ritual, and each has largely failed in the attempt, This paper will anatyze the Universal Salvation (Pudu), a major annual ritual to appease tlze ghosts of tlze improperly dead-1 The state's successi\pe failures trr manipulate this ritual result from the nature of popular interpretation of ghosts, People produce their interpretations out of their material T H R E E STATES HAVE CONTROI.I.ED

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circumstances, including both past ideas and current experiences, Ghosts are tlzus open to aexible reinterpretation within a very general symbolic framework as material ccrnditions change. The state found neither an established idecrlogy nor an effective institution through which to impose an interpretation. The only effective counters to popular l interpretation were too difficult to carry out: the state could ban popular religious performance, or it corzld change the political econcrmy. Most antl-tropologists interpret Taiwanese glzosts as metaphors for the socially marginal: for bandits and beggars, for gamblers and prostitutes, They support their interpretations pardy with informant statements, and partly by comparing tlze ritual offerings for ghosts with offerings presented to the other major figures in the Taiwanese cosmr>logy,gc~dsand ancestors (Feuchtwang 1974, Jordan 19'72, Wolf 19'74b). The structure of these ritual offerings has not changed over the last century, and this helps to explain why the state failed to impose its own ritual interpretation. The state did not want people worshipi~lgsocially and politically marginal beings whose very existence w s a challenge to its authority and legitim a q , Yet the state could not offer an alternative interpretation of ghosts without clzangtng the entire symbofic structure of offerings tlzat defines ghosts in contrast to gods and ancestors. The symbolic definition of marginality has remained intact over the last century, yet performances and interyre-etationsof the Universal Salvation have undergone major change. The Un&rsal Salvation occurs in the seventh lunar mrrnth, when ail the ghosts enjoy temporary release from the underworld. Local temples hire Buddlzist or Taoist priests to lead ceremonies to feed the starving souls. A century ago, the festival produced an annual near-riot by real bandits and beggars, who fought over the offerings to the ghosts (chiu:ku, ""rbbbtng the Xonefy ghosts"") Today, this part of tlze ceremony lzas been transformed into a. genial jostting of rrld women and children, who try to grab buns and rice that the chief priest t h r o w in the air to feed the hungry ghosts, As we shall see below the interpretation of ghosts cl-tanged as people" experience of social marginality cl-tanged. The symbolic system sets limits on the possiMe meaning of ghosts, but real performances in changing material contexts influence the particular interpretations people make, No temple or priestlzood controlled tlzese changing interpretations, and the state thus found no institution through which it could irnpcrse its own understanding. The traditional state made the most extended attempt to expand its contml atper popular ritual, The state cult set tzp its own altars tcr care for the ghosts, and some magistrates promoted ghost worship at these official aitars in order to create a. reading of ghosts that downplayed the power of the socially marginal, At the same time, the state banned the mrrst violent parts of the ycryular ceremrrny, although with little effect. Both the Japanese and, to a lesser extent, the Nationalist govmnmmts continueci the bmad strategies of the traditional Chinese government-trying to repress (or at least discourage, in the case of the Nationalists) the performance of popufar ghost rituals while suggesting a new interpretation of

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ghosts that gave the government greater control over the ghosts and their worshippers. Botll of: the later governments failfed to impose this new interpretation successfully. This paper thus ctxylores one way in which popular religion provides a sphere of resistance to state institutions anci ideologies. Both popular interpretation anci official manipulation of ghtrsts were rewrked and renewed as they interacted with each other and as material conditiczns changed in Taiwan. The sections that follow examine the symbolic background of:tlze ceremony the history of popular performances of it, and state manipufaticzns of ghosts. The ccrntemporary data are based primarily on fieldwork in Sarmxia Township of Taibei County. The historical sources (including newspapers, official gazetteers, and accounts by American and Japanese observers) broaden the field to northern Takan (including especially Xinzhu, Tdibei, and Tlan Ccrunties), becatzse there are too few sources on Sanxia, For the earliest period, X have drawn on literature for Taiwan as a whole, Gods, Ancestors, and Ghosts

The popular pantheon in Taiwan includes three primary types of: beings-gods, ancestors, and ghosts-who closely reflect the social world f Feuchtwang 1974, Jordan 1972, Wolf 1974b). Wolf f 19743:f E), for example, writes: The conception of the supernatural found in Sanhsia [Samia] is thus a detailed refiection of the social landscape of traditional China as viewed Cram a srnalt viltage. Promineslt in this landscape were first the mandarins, represe~ltingthe emperor and the empire; second the famiiy and the lineage; and third, the more heteroge~~eous category of the stranger and the orrtsider, the bandit and the begar, The mandarins became the gods; the senior members ofthe Line and the iineage, the ancestors; while the stranger was preserved in the form of the dangerorrs and despised ghosts,

The ritual offerings to tlzese beings build a symbolic structure that encodes the social structure bby combining a. set of:syxnbolic dichotomies: Gods are corztrasted with ghosts and ancestors; ghosts are corztrasted with gods and ancestors; and ancestors are contrasted with gods and gl~osts,For example, gods are offered uncooked (or whole) food, while ghosts and ancestors are offered cooked food; ghosts are wrsbiyped outside home and tempfes, gods and ancestors are worshipped inside; allcestors [on dornestie altars] are given an even number of incense sticks, @osts and gods are gives1 an odd number of sticks (broLf 1974a:7; see also Feuchtwang 1974).

These ritual media make ghosts marginal in ways: they are mar@nal to gcrds, and thus to the political structure; and they are marginal tcr ancestcrrs, and thus tcr the kinship system. Each type of marginalifiy has different implications for the interpretation of:&osts, but both combine in the ritual offerilzgs that ghosts receive. hlitically marginal ghosts are dangerous because they are outside orthcrdczx polidcal authoriq, kople often associate gl-rosts with bandits, gangsters, garn-

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biers, and other ilfegitimate threats to the power of the state. The line bemeen ghosts and gods was never firmly drawn, and just like the social tine between bandits and soldiers, it was sometimes crossed. Ghosts can resemble soldiers and low-level government functionaries (runners), groups that often shaded off into bandits and gangsters in traditional China. Government runners frequently acted in league with gangsters, or ran protection rackets of their own, and incessant defections constantly bXrrrred the line between soidfers and bandits. As one might: expect givm dze intertwining of the civil and religious hierarct~iesin China, the lowest ranks of the gods had some very ghostly features. Many major gods have low-level functionaries associated with them, and these are typically either demons whom they have subdueci, or victims of violent death who have entered the service of the gods. Vicious demons, suicides, and murder victims more normally enter the world of ghosts, but they could become gods instead, just as bandits could be transf(~rmedinto soldiers. The merging of illegitimate p o w r with state authority can occur also wl~ensmall ghost temples (iu levzg kong biuu) evc>fveinto prayer god temples (see Harrell 1974, Jordan 19722),just as bandit chiefs may somedrnes become local gentry, Politically marginal peapfe are not proper members of local communities, anci ghost wrslziy illustrates the separate, individual, nonsocial existence of ghosts. For example, individual neighborhoods separate their offerings from each other at the Universal Salvation; it~dividuaffdmilies furtlzer mark their own offerings by yiacing a singte stick of incense in each piate trf food, and sometimes by inserting a Rag identieing the name of the individual. wrshiper, This use of incense is t~niqueto ghost worslzip; sticks of:incense for gods or ancestors are always placed as a group in incense pots. Onby ghosts fragment the community. to the level of individual families, Use of incense thus emphasizes the marginaliv ;.of ghosts to any political community. The political marginality of bandits and ghosts presented real dangers to the community, The Universal Salvation realized this aspect of ghosts by postponing ""fiaypy" ments like marriages until more propitious months, and by banning the tzse of the word kzai (""ghosts'" because it is insulting. In the seventh lunar month, when the ghosts have been released from the undermrld to attend the UniversaI Salvation, peapte refer to them with tlze elxylzemism ""god brothers" "(hot4 faia:ti), to amid trcrubfe in case an angry ghtrst is listening, In Sanxia, the danger of ghosts is emphasized again, at the end of the Universal Salvation ritual when a demon-slaying god named Zllong Kui, himself a suidde, exordses any remaining ghosts. This ceremony is very ccrlorful, but no one watches lest they be struck and made iit by a ghost Aeeing back to the underworld, The politically marginai aspect of- glzosts show tl~emto be dangerous beings with illegitimate power that must be prapitiated. From a second point of view ghosts are marginal to the kinship system, but this margit~alityhas implications different horn those of political marginality Ghosts are pitiful souls with no descendants to worship them, miserable beggars rather than vicious bandits. Just as some ghosts may become gods when they are

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no longer potiticafty marginal, others lose their ghostliness by bemming proper members of a kinslziy group. Ghost marriage is a way of pacif-ring tlze spirits of the unmarried dead. A living person marries a dead soul and promises tbat at least one child from a marriage to a living spouse will wcrrship the dead spouse: tlze ghost thereby becomes an ancestor. Some of the ritual offerings emphasize the kinship marginality of ghirsts, Ancestors receive spirit money in two sizes of silver. Ghosts receive only one of these denominations of sifvcr money, and gods receive only gold spirit money. Spirit money thus shows ghosts to be an inferior kind of ancestor. Ghosts also reaive certain offerings t h a e r e not appropriate to either gods or ancestors, but that emp l z a s i ~their pitiful need fbr alms, just like living persons with no kin. Ghosts receive wine and cigarettes, a wash basin and a towel, and slips of paper with clothing printed on them (kieng i). The kinship marginality of ghosts is pitiful, not dangerous. Ritual offerings ancl people" ideas about glzosts thus suggest two readit~gs: ghosts have a dangerotzs political marginality and a pitiful kinship marginality. Both intertwine and are present whenever people worship ghosts. B e ~ e e n1860 and 1980, the ritual offerings that encorle these two meanings did not change. h y u l a r worship of these marginal beings in effect challenged the gcrvernment's claim to control illegitimate pcrwers, such as bandits, and to care for the unfortunate. The government never succeeded in replacing a symbolic structure tlzat defines ghosts as marginal beings in ccrntrast to gods and ancestors. At the same time, this structure allouvcrd for a popular reinterpretation of the identity of ghosts as the politicat and econamic experience of marginality cl~angedin Faivuan.

The Popular Ghost Festivd h p u l a r performances of the Uniersal Salvation divide roughjty into two periods. The period from X860 to about f 945 saw the rise and fail ctf violent performances tlzat emphasized political marginality and tlze banclit metaphor. The period after World War II has seen a resurgence of the festi~l-tl,except for a few short periods of government repression. Violent performances of the festivaf no longer occur in the modern period; tlze pitiful beggar has tlzus supplanted the bandit as the metaphor for all ghirsts,

Changes in the popular performance of the Uniwrsat satvation have occurred in tlze final, most violent part of tlze ceremony-the robbing of the lonely ghosts (strmetimes also translated as ""pillaging the scaffc3lding""). Except for the gift of food offerings, this was the only direct participation by tlze audience in the ceremony, This part of tlze festival reached its peak of popularity and violence in northern Taiwn in the last half of the 19th century. A 19th-century Presbyterian missionary prctvides one of the fu'lxest descriptions:

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The most ejaborate and I-rideous scene X ever witnessed was the ""Sven Moor1 Feast". . . . The custom prevailed in all the cities and towns in north Formosa of erecting, In arx open space of severai acres, great cone-iike structures of bamboo pales, from five to ten feet in diameter at the base, and sometimes fifty or shty feet I-righ, Arorrnd these cones, from botrorll to top, immense quarhities of food, offered to the spirits, were tied in r(>ws.. . . hfeanwhile a very unspiritual m o b t h o u s a n d s and thousands of hur~grybeggars, tramps, blacklegs, desperadoes of a11 sorts, frorn the country towns, the city dums, or venturir~gunder cover of nigllt from their hiding-i3laces arnong the hill+surged and swelled in every part of the oyerl space. . . . At lengh the spirits were satisfied, and the gong was sounded 01-rce more. That was the signal for the mob; and scarcely had the first stroke fallen when that whole scene was one mass of arms and legs and tongues. Screaming, crrrsing, howlirtg, like demotls ofthe pit, they all joined in the oxlset, . . . Xt was a very bedlam, and the wildrxess of the scene was enhanced by the irregular expiosion of firecrackers and the death-groan of someone wcjrstcd in the fray [hilackay 18%: 129-3 311.

A contemporary gazetteer warns that, "Wth the sound of a gong, the masses begin to battle; this is called krctbbing the fonely ghosts,' All civil and military officials must travel to the area to repress it" "(DSTZ 1872:460). The situation was so difficult for local magistrates that Liu Mingchuan, the first Chinese gclxrnor of Taiwan, made robbing the lonely ghosts illegal in 1889 f TWSZ 1980, 12:18). The new Xaw had little effect, however, and performances of the ritual continued well into the Tapanese occupation of 1895-1 945, ltobbhg the lonely ghosts began to occur less often under the Japanese, but when it was performeci, it retained its violent Ravar. A fapanese anthmyologtst describes a yerfc~rmancehe saw in North Taiwn in the 1920s: 13ecause robbing the lonely ghosts is a dangerous affair, policemen were sent to maintain order. . . . The robbing of the lonely ghosts took place at 6:30 pm,, and the start was sigx~afedby a puff of smoke, when weryone began their enthusiastic plunder. The sorrnds of assauIt and murder pierced I-reaven, . . . At least thirty or forty thorrsand watched or participated in robbing the Lonely ghosts, all forming a chaotic mass. As soon as the time arrived and the smoke was reieased, hordes of people hegan to climb the lonefy ghost platform [ko pi:], each a d o u s to stay ahead of the others. . . . The ionety ghost 13latfurm was covered with people, each exztllusiasticafty stealing the offerings, pushi~lgand screasning, and robbing each other. Some people were tl-r~spushed down the platform. They say that with the ghosts"ratection they will not be hurt, hut In fact large nurni~ersare always hurt and killed [Srlzuki 1978(1934):4731.

Other sources from the early 20th century atso describe the violence of the ceremony (e.g., Shikagane 1902), although there is generaj agreement that fewer communities performed this part af the ceremony as tlze 20th century w0l-e a n (TWSZ 1980, 12:iK-19). After about 1930, robbing the lonely ghosts is rarefy mentioned as a living custom, afthough the Universal Salvation continued, t>escriytionsaf the festival from elsewhere in China rarely mention the viotcnt robbing of the lonely ghosts, nor do early descriptions from Taiwan describe a violent ceremony, The Taiwan Prefectrrre Gazetteer (TWPG 1665:618) mentions

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only setting miniature rafts out to sea; each raft contained a Mexican silver dollar, and fishermen in tlzeir boats tried to collect the rafts to gain good luck for the coming year. There is no mention of violence or of a lonely ghost piatform, and the compiler of the gazetteer avoids the condemnations of the ceremony that ty p ify late 1%h-century descriptions, These early descriptions paint a relatively placid picture irf the ceremony, in which peoyie give alms tsr the miserable ghirsts, and often also to real beggars, Hunger and aIms fcrrm the basis of the ceremony, not violence and propitiation. The large scale and the vicrlence of the ceremoq appear only in late 18th-cenfury descriptions frctm Taiwan and Xiamen (Amoy), the highly commercialized treaty port on the mainland from which many people emigrated to Taiwan anci Tiiwanese goods headed out to fsjreign markets (DeGroot 1885:86-9 1, 1886: 403435). Why did this perisrd b e ~ e e nabout 1860 and 1945 see so m a q violent performances of the ritual, which did nctt characterke earlier perhrmances, and which disappeared again in later periods? The answer cannot lie simply within the symbolic structu1.e of the ritual: the same types of ritual specialists recited the same texts, and people prepared the same food offerings, the same kinds of spirit money, and the same number of sticks of i~zcense.The change occurred because people interpret ghosts in relation to their own changing experience of margindity, as well as in reiation to a structure of symbctls, Beginning around f 860, the key determinants of that experience were a rapid commerciali-ation of the economy and the uprooting irf a labor force. These developments relied on access to new world markets for Taiwanese rice, tea, and camyhor.2 The late 19th century saw a rapid c~~mmercialization of northern Taiwn. In rice agriculture, for exampie, the sale prices of usufrt~ctrights to land tripled between 1850 and 1900, shorter leases and more frequent changes of tenant developed as competition for lanci increased, and the deposits required to gain cuftivation rights increased as landlords felt an increasingly pressing need for cash (Wickberg 1981:216-22 1f , More important than rice in northern Taiwan, howevel; were new foreign markets for tea and camphor. The United States became a major buyer of Formrrsa Ocrlong tea in the last half of the 19th century, As the new market opened up, Chinese in the foothills of northern Taiwan began to cultivate and process tea on a large scale. The many small tea farms created new demands ftrr labor. There was an influx of experienced tea workers from areas in Ft~jian(Fukien) Province, especially from Anqi County (the place of origin for mast of Sanxia's population). Tea required tedious, labor-intensive harvesthg, after which it tzndewent several stages of processing, some in the countryside, and some in the commercial centers of Taibei. Processing demanded wage tabor, and picking and sorting the tea required especially large new inptzts of labor, Uavidssn (IBO3:385) reports that 12,000 girls were brought into Taibei from the countryside seasonally to work as tea sorters, Lin ( lf)76:3) estimates that 300,000 workers were employed in the tea it~dustryin an average year during this period. Tea thus contributed to the creation of a cornmerciafized economy in northern Taiwan by bringing in an immigrant labor

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force, by creating a new class of wage labctrers, and by hefping to involve much of tlze population in tlze world market for tea,. The third major ccrmmercial product in northern Taiwan was camphor. It involved fewer wctrkers than the other commodities, but it had extensive soclat consequences. Camphor trees gmw in the depths of tlze nortlzern and central parts of the massive mountain range that dominates Taiwan. Merchants in the late f 9th century hired wctrkers to build camphor stills up in the mountains, where they felled trees ancl gradually fed tlzem to tlze stiffs. Merchants sent expeclitions up into the mountains to ccrllect the product and transport it to the markets from which it was shipped abroad. Camphor was a government monopoly for much of tlze fate 19th century, but government contmf was too weak to prevent large-scale smuggling (Davidson 1903:402). Qing registration of camphor stills was spotty at best, and the most usefut statistics come from Japanese registration of stills in 1 8 9 (Davidson 1903:415). At that time, the Japanese were discouraging camphor production by keeping tlze price artificially low in order to stirnulate the camphcrr industry in Japan. As a result, the number of stills in 18% was considerably lower than it had been earlier. In addition, some stills surely went unregistered. There were 2057 registered stifXs in 1899 (24 1 in Sanxia), almost all of them in the mountains of' northern Taiwan. Although the total number of camphor wrkers, even in earlier years, did not rival the number in the tea indrtstry, tlze nature of the camphor inclustry made it politically imprrrtant. So-called "raw" aborigines inhabited the camphor forests of Taiwan" mountains. They had always met the Chinese with violence, and now tlzat their home territory was being threatened for tlze first time, their attacks on the Chinese became especially vehement and common. The late 19th century saw a major escafation of violence in northern Taiwan, The Chinese met the aborigines with armed vigilantes of their own. These miniature armies help explain the success of smtzgglers, and alst:, the frequency crf battle b e ~ e e ndifferent Chinese ethnic groups in the camphor fields (Wang f 976). Camphor work was dangerous, ancl it attracted young men without strong ties to home or 6~mily.Camphor helped ccrmmercialize the economy by creating another group of people tied to the wctrld market through the ctdmmodities they produced. Pcrliticalfy, it reinforced local armed forces inclepenclent of the government, Sanxia's close ties to the camphor industry may explain why the missionary Mackay (1895:159) described it as "the most lawless region in nctrth Formosa," where the townspeople sometimes conspired to protect ""aarge band of: ruffians and highwaymen" kom official interference. The politicat ecttnomy of late 19th-century Tgiwan was thus shaped by an influx of: new workers, increasing cammercialization, tancl scarcity, dependence on w.ortd markets, and weak state power with extensive reliance on extralegal force. This potiticaf emnctmy severed a large, new popufation from traditicrnal ties to agricultural communities, ancl tl-trusr it into an ~tncertaitllabor market. The state remained weak, and these people found themselves outside orthodc)~prrlitical and ctdmmunity control.

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The Japanese occupation of Taiwan in 1895 brought important political changes, The most striking was a general pacification of the countryside; the Japanese ended feuding among the Chinese, and after a few years, they also ended battles between Chinese and aborigines. At the same time, fluctuating w r t d demand for nortl~ernTaiwan's commodities altered some features of: the economy. The tea boom subsided after the turn of the century, and the camphctr market collapsed entirety with the inwntion of chemicaf substitutes. Coaf became a major commodity and the economy continued to commerdalize slowly in tlze first few decades of Japanese rule. Yet the upheavals in the labur force and the existence of a marginal grctup largely uncontrofIed by the government ended in the 20th century with the introduction of a strong state ancl the mutinization of the eccrnomy. There was a steady improvement in the standard of living, but there were few major shifts tzntijt the 1930s, when Japan began to prepare for w r , and when the effects of Japanese intervention in Taiwanese education and infrastructure began to appear ( Wickberg 1981:231-232). The period after about 1930 saw marked social transformation in Taiwan. The new transportaticzn and education systems began to bear fruit as the first generation of: modern gradrtates emerged, ancl as new indrtstries and techniclues were able to mclve to a pacified, accessible countryside. At the same time, the Japanese, who were gearing up fczr war, began to encourage industrial prctducticzn in Taiwan. There was a tecfznofogical ~volrttionin agriculture, the coal industry took off; and industrial employment became a widespread a f t e r n a t i ~to f2u-m work. Per capita income and household consumpticzn rctse more rapidly than they had in the preceding decades (Wolf and Hrxang 1980:45-59). Although tlze years of WorM War I1 were difficult in Yaiwan, the social changes of the period set the stage for the increasing prosperity and industriaXizatian of modern Taiwan, This background of: pofitical and economic transfarmatinn between 1860 and 1945 suggests a likety reasc>nwhy violent expressions of the Unixrsal Salvation waxed and waned during this period. The ""backlegs and desperadoes" who robbed the lonely ghosts in the late 19th century were probably members of the new class of wage lalrrrrers, who saw themselves as marginal to the ccrmmunity. Like the potiticafly marginal. ghosts, they were not under orthod~zxpolitical control, they welre dangerous in their own right, and they were propitiated by the community.W~lctmmunitytemples took responsibility for placating these ghostly people. Local elites generally controlfed large community temples, which sczmetixnes served as centers of secular pofiticaf organization. Sanxia's temple to Co Su Krjng, for example, organizd local resistance to the Japanese occupation of Taiwan, The Universaf Salvation emphasized this political role of the local temple, The festival was knded by a houselzold tax, for which the temple gave receipts in the form of a protective charm, Currentt-r,local temples use village heads (elected officials of the government) to collect this tax, In propitiating politically marginal, ghosts, a local temple is thus assuming the knctions of the government: it collects a tax that it uses as ""protection money" trz buy off marginal elements that it cannot contrcti directly. The independence of the temples in this ceremony did

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not occur everyhere in China. Magistrates, the local representafves of the central srate, participated in many areas outside of: Taiwan (e.g., Gordon-Gumming 1900:2 19,Wieger 1913:433). The political and economic conditions of the late 19th century thus led to the large and violent perfetrmances of the Universal Salvation at tl-tat time. Temples and local elites acted with some independence from a weak state, while new, and sometimes dangerctus, economic opportuni"ces created a class of politicalfy marginal wage laborers, Violent performances of the festival allowed local elites and their communities to propitiate this new marginal class, even as the new class acted out its ghostly condition in an annual riot. Violent performances of the festival decreased under tlze Japanese, ancl apyarently stc>pyedby 1930. One reason for this was that the Japanese government discouraged Ghhese popular religion in general. More importantly, violent performances ended because the poiiticat and economic cttnditions that created them also ended. The camphor industry ancl its associated violence died out, Qtl-ter aspects of commercializatir>nbecame routinized, and wage Iaborers no longer formed a marginal group. After f 930, Taiwan was transfctrmed from an agricultural frontier in the throes of: commercialization into an economy on a madern industrial footing. Violent performances of the Universal Salvation indexed this transformafon, Those groups who had been politically marginat in the late 19th century had been absorbecl into the political order by the 1930s. As a result, the Universal Safvation no longer ended in a near-riot by either human bandits or bandit-ghosts,

Popular religion suf-&red drtring World War I X , ancl during the first years of Hationalist rule, when the gc>vernmentwas preoccupied with civil war on the mainland and with creating a strong base in Taiwan. By 1950, however, the Universal Salvation was again widespread in Taiwan, Although. tlzere was no mare robbit~g of lonely ghosts, the rest of the festivaf remained a most important annual event thrctughout the island,. In the iast three decades, both interest and investment in popular religion of: all kinds have increased, Many new temples have been btlilr, and many rtld ones have been refurbished at great expense. Festivals like the Universaf Salvation or those of a god's birthday are opportunities for the wealthy to invest in tlze local community. The investment is public, as mast temples post their patronshames and contributions. The ritual texts and ritual offerings fctr the Universal Safvation remain unclzanged, bat the old robbing of the lonely ghosts has been transfc~rmeci.At the end of the modern ceremony, the chief priest tc>ssesintrt the air a series of buns, candy, and grains of rice, symbctlicafly feeding the ghosts, A crowd of children ancl old people stands it1 front of the altar, pushing and shaving to catclz the thrc~wnfood. On some occasions, the crowd may be large and enthusiastic, although it never matches the violence of earlier times. One ceremony X witnessed

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at a small Buddhist temple, ftor example, drew a crctwd of well-dressed, prim, middle-class old ladies who were regular devotees of the temple. As the priest prepared to throw the buns to the ghosts, this very proper crowd suddenly became unruly To catch the offerings, they clambered over each other and finally mobbed tlze af~ar,snatcl~ingbuns from the priest even before he threw them, My tape recorder was an early casualty of the chaos, which soon tipped over the temple drums, The entire ceremony had to stop while the drummer pufled himself and lzis drums back together. A final plate of offerings should be saved for distribution to special dewtees of the temple after the ceremony, The rampaging ladies, howver, swamped the young nun who was trying to carry these buns to a back room, and tlze platter was empty well before slze reacl~edsafety In this case, the women behaved exactly as they said the ghrtsts were behaving at this point in the ritual: pushing and shoving, twisting and turning, trying desperately ttr snatch same scrap of food to ease their ravenous hunger. The middle-class old women have tlzus replaced the earlier ""bandits ancl desperadoes" as metaplzorical ghosts. When interviewed, these wctmen played down the violent threat of ghosts. While late f9tlz-century statements emphasized the need to propitiate ghosts, modern informants emphasize instead the pitihlness of ghosts. kVhen I asked a sample of 120 people why they wrshiged ghosts in the seventh month, only 15 percent gave an answer tlzat might indicate some danger from ghosts ("we warship to request a peaceful tife")). The plurality (34 percent) said that they worship out of sympathy for the ghosts, and anttther 2 percent wctrshiy to ""rspect" b u n kieuzg) them. The remainder either could not answer ( 14 percent) said they warshiped becatzse that was their tradition (32 percent), or said they did not w r s h i p (4 percent). Many people thus wctrshiyed h r no well-defined reason, or only out of sympatlzy, Very few stressed tlze potential danger or the political marginality of ghosts. One informant, for example, explained that "We invite the ghosts ttr a meal once each year because they are wild ghosts, living a bitter life in the underworld, It doesn" matter if you don't worship. Asfiing peaple to dinner is just a courtesy; without this feefing of courtesy, there" no point in having company." The overriding theme fctr these people is no longer the danger of bandits and tlzieves, who are marginal to politics, but tlze pitiful condition of orphans and suicides, who are marginal to kinship. The social changes that occurred in Taiwan after abctut f 930 had an important effect on old people. Some of thc most usehl itlformation on this aspect of social change comes frrrm Margery Mii:>tf's( 1975) discussion of changing suicide rates. Mioff's analysis of Japanese household recctrds indicates that in 1905 suicide rates for women in tlzeir early twenties were extremely high (57.4 per lOO,C)00). The rate fbr slightly older w m e n was lower, but it rose again fbr women in their sixties (to abctut 20 per 100,000). By 1935, however, there had been a dramatic clzange. By this time, the rate for women in their skties was nearly double tlzat for women in their twenties. The suicide rates for old men atso increased sharply between these WC)dates, atthough there is no corresponding change in the rates for

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young men. VIJotF 1975:127)),concerned primarily with female suicides, attributes the change to developments in famify structLlre: In ge~~crations past an emoticmal tie bewee11husband and wife came later in life, if at all, and wits 110t exl7ected In the young strangers who were married at their parent$ conve~~ience, A young wife w110 eaters as her husband's choice has ernc>tionaland sexual advantages over her mother-in-jaw from the outset. kVhen the apiyarently inwitahie conflicts arise b e ~ e e amother-in-law and daughter-in-law and the son intemenes on his wife's behalf3the effect on the older woman is stunning. All the old anxieties a b u t pbysial weIfare in her now Ilcar oLd age return. Even worx, all the years of stn;tale and sacrifice seexn to be negztted, lost to the wiies of an ignorant young woman. Xri desl~air over her powerlessness or in a fit af revengefill fury at her fickle sorl, the aging mother contemlykates,threatet~s,and in some caes commits suicide.

Not only have changing marriage patterns weakenecl the position of the old in Tdiwan, bat new wage-earning opportunities have given both p u n g men ancl women further independence from parents. As a result, the otd are losing the contrcrl they once exercised, and clearly realize their vufnerabtlity. The only suicide I was aware of while in Sanxia occurred, appropriately, on the day ofthe Universal Salvation. An c~ldwoman, long tzpset by the tznfilial behavior of her son and daughter-in-law? quarrefed with the daughter-in-law on the moming of the festkal. The immediiate cause was the girl" refusal ta worship the gl~osts,Following an argument, the old woman drtjwned hersetf in the Sanxia River, Kinship marginalit-y has thus replaced political marginality in the Universal Salvation, as an increasingly insecure elderly population becomes the metaplzorical substitute for ghosts, in piace of a now secure commercialized pcryulation. The structure of the ritual code for ghosts has not cilanged over this period, nor has it had to change. The ritual and its agerings, abstracted from any particular political and economic ccrntext, can represent either type of marginality, The rituaf offerings encode a very general, adaptable, three-way distinction among bureaucratslkinsmenloutsiders, The offerings remain infact because they continue ta make sense of experience. The meaning crf ghosts, hc~wever,shiEts with changing political and economic experience, The symbolic structure of the ritual limits tile range of metaglzors fcjr ghosts, but it does not determine any one final m e t a y h o ~ One reason why performances of the Uni.4ersaf Salvation have been so easily modified over the last century is that there is no aylicit, publicly propagated interpretation of gl~osts.People are free to interpret and reinterpret ghosts as their own experiences change. The structure of ritual offerings comes close to an explicit system of meanings, but, as ncrted, the marginatiy it defines is open to various interpretations, No uniform religious ideology defines the presence or identity of ghosts-nc~ self-conscious system of meanings is fostered by some institution of control and educafan,V(Buddlzists ancl Taoists do maintain sucll ideologies, but they make little attempt to convince outsiders of them.) Local temples provided institutional sponsorship of important ceremonies, but they could not control popufar interpretation and action. In the absence of some in-

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stltutlonai means of enhrcing a monolithic view of ghosts, people were free to interpret and reinterpret glzosts in light of political and economic experience. Common symbolic tznderstandings of marginality, and the lack of institutional means to channel these interpretations, prevented the government from tncorporating ghost worslzip in its own attempts at ideological control.

The State and Ghosts The state in Yaiwan has never been ccrmfortable with prrpufar performances of the Universal Salvation, Symbctlically, the state ccrufd not sanction an illegidmate power that could demand the payment of protection money. The state maitltained instead that it ccruld control the unruly and can: for the needy. hlitically, the state wished to discourage large and violent crowds at public ceremonies, Eccdnomicaily, it regretted the lzuge expenditures of wealth on such rituals, which it considered ffrivofous at best, Xn the 20th century, the state wants especially to promote inxstment in the modern industrial sector rather than in the traditional sectors that benefit from a resurgence of popular religion." Attem p ts to control undesirable realizatir~nsof ghtrsts failed largely because popular treatments of ghosts dtr not exist in any controllable organization. The government could do no more than suggest its own view, The poputation could ignore these suggestions ancl interpret ghosts in light of their symbolic and social experience." The traditional Chinese government made tlze most extended attempt to manipulate the popular interpretation of ghosts. The state cult provided a religious ideology intended to supplant popular belief by erecting an altar {di tan) for neglected spirits in the suburbs of every administrative city, The state cult required magistrates to perft~rmrituals at these altars three times each year. The spirits received offerings appropriate to a ""common sacrifice" "(qun si) for deities at the ictvvest level of the cult. (This included Guandi, the City God, and others; see Feuchtwang 1976:585-587.) Xn marked contrast to the popular offerings to ghosts, the ofhdaf trf&rings thus did not mark ghosts as a marginal category. Instead, they treated ghosts as fuXI, if low-ranking, members of the official hierarclzy, The official text that the magistrate was supposed to read ft~rtheremphasized hclvv the government claimed to resolve the marginal status of ghosts, and ttr make them into ortl-rodc)~citizens. Xt instructed ghosts to serve the purposes of the government: If among our yeopie there be persons who are unfilial toward their pal-ents, or disrespectful toward tlseir relatives; who ccltmrnit acts of theft, robbery, or fraud, in defiance of imperial jaw; who make the croaked appear straight, or oppress good and 11or.test people; who evade taxes or corvee, thus exfiaustitlg and injuring poor peopie-if there be sr.rcls perverse, villainous, and wicked persons, we beseech you, spirits, surely to report their evil deeds to the god (of the city walk and moats]. . . . X f ycm, spirits, choose not to expose them, please surely make them suffer the Unseen Ptrnisl~ment.. . .

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XF there he persons, on the corztrary, who practice fitiai duties totuard their parents; who maintain harmonious relatiolls with their kin; who respect the authority of government, refrain from cornmittirzg evil deeds and are good, upright ix-rdiviriduals, [webeseech you,] spirits, surely to colxmend them to the god who will extend to thern unseen protection and blessings [in Hsiao 1960:222-223; brackets in original].

The state thus denies any independent, marginal power to the ghosts, and asserts instead its control over tlzem, anci its ability to ease their suffering. Xt claims to fulfill the ideal roles of a state; it protects the yeoylte from harm, and provides wlfare for its most u n f o r t u n a ~citizens, Hsiaa (1960:223) writes that the glzostly part of the state cult lzad died out in many parts of China by the beginning of the 19th century. This was ayparentfy ncrt entirely true of Taiwan. Official ghost altars were built and rebuilt throughout the 18th and f 9th centuries in Taiwan fTWSZ 19813,18:103-lf14). Xt is not clear that official rituals were performed at all of these altars, but people used thern to store the ccrf6ns of bodies awaiting the prcrper geomanttc moment fbr burial, or of people too poor to affc~rda burial, Here again, the government cttufd legitimize itself tlzrough the ghost altars; the state cult provided h r just those people who were most ghostly, thtrse who were tcro poor or tcro isolated tcr be given a ncrrmal burial. The continuing official emphasis on li tart in f 9th-century Taiwan may reflect government concern with the increasing popularity of the Unkersaf Salvation festivaf. Official ghcrst aftars were thus the primary ideological wapon with wwhh the gczvemment could attempt. to undercut the popular vision of ghosts, One early 19th-century subprefect of Cernalan (now llan County) made a most inxntive attempt at fostering the new image of ghosts by manipulating the Ei tan, Like much of Taiwan, the Gemalan area had been wracked by frequent battles between Chinese and aborigines, and among Chinese from different places on the mainland (primarily Hakka, Hokkien from Zhangzhou, and Hokkien from Quanzhou). The subprefect forced about two thousand representatives of tlze feuding gmups to attend a ritual at tlze official ghost altar. Placing tablets for the ghosts at the right and left of the altar; he arranged all the Zhangzhou people at the Xeft, all the Quanzhau people at the right, and sat all the abctrigines on the ground it1 the middle, Various officials made the usual state cult offerit~gsfor ghosts, and the subprefect read a special sacrificial text. The text descriks the vid e n t settlement of the area, He explains that the many deaths that resufted created an ""eil force" (CZi qi) of: starvitlg glzosts, "kandorn gravemounds lie hitl~er and thither; the bones lie abandoned and rotten, unidentifiable. Liver and brain are obliterated, without even five feet of land [for a proper burial] ." R~czunakty he explains, the Ernperor's generous policies put a stop to tlze bloodslzeci. Peaceful htzmans mean peaceful ghosts: "If enemies who hate one another will discuss matters together, they themselves can dispel the evil forces, . . . Thus, humans and ghosts will be at peace; the peaplc ancl the aborigines will find permanent happiness, Coming from different directions and far away places, all wilt come to resemble the golden age of [the legendary Emperors1 Shun and Vao, Stagnant

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souls and wronged spirits become peaceft~I wind and sweet rain" "ao 1957[1832]:85-87), Gl-tosts are again clearly a metaplzor for the lzumans of the district, but unlike the popular ceremony, this ritual denies their autonomous powr. It stresses instead that the government has brought these marginal elements into ortlzodoxy anci under control. Even this systematic attempt to manipulate the ghost cult for specific gcItPernment purposes had little success. In general, most people arsotded the rites of the official cult. If the official ideology of ghosts had any effect at all, it must have been ccrnantrated primarily on the elite, who were the main audience in attendance,7 The state ftailed to propagate its new ideology successfully for twct reasons: ( 1) The government had no effective social organization that cauld impose this interpretation as the ccrrrect reading of ghosts. The official reading existed only in the writings of the elite (like Yao Ying" sacrificial text above) and in the perfctrmances of the state cult, neither of which had significant contact with the bulk of the payulatinn. ( 2 ) The popular understanciing of: ghosts was based on both an enduring symbt>lic structure that emphasized marginality, and on a shifting politicai and economic experience of marginatity. The government controlled neither of these bases f~tlly. The Japanese made no significant attempt tcr manipulate popular interpretation of ghosts. The Japanese never accepted Chinese religion sufficiently to offer an aXternative view. They thus influenced popular religion by repressing it entirely h r short periods, or by offering alternatives, like Sl~intc)or Japanese Buddhism. Neither stratea was applied thoroughly enough to have long-term effects, Popular religion underwent a resurgence after tlze first few years af Nationalist rule. By 1950, the Universal Salvation was thriving again, Markets were crowded and prices were high for the festival. Beggars frequented the major temples. In Beitou, a northern subt1l.b of:Taibei noted for its nightlife, a major temple sacrificed two hundred pigs, and the bar girls asked Ebr the night off (XSB, 29 August 1950:5). The newspaper article that reported the popularity of the festivat attempted also to suggest a new itnage of: ghosts, Watching the people free to worship in Taiwan reminded the reporter of the sufkring trf those who could neither live nor die in peace on the maintand. Ghosts, he suggested, were the people living under Communist rule, anci people slzoufd cantribute tlzeir money to effusts to retake the mainland rather than wasting their wealth on popular refigion, The decades that followed continued to see omcial attempts to discourage the ceremony. As time went on, these attempts became more ideological and less repressive. A slogan urging people to ""sppress insurrection and be frugal" "(kan Euavt jz'e yue), which was used to disclourage performances of the Universal Salvation in some parts of-Taiwan in 1948 (XSU, 9 A~xgust1948:6), became ""rgorousfy enforce frugality" "ldl xing jie yzlej by 1955 (XSB, 2 September 1955:5), and had eased still further to ""enctturage frugality" "U Eijie yue) by 1960 (XSB, 3 September 1960:3). Frugality became the overriding ideological theme; mutual feasting, ritual focrd offerings, and the festival itself were blamed far wasting precictus resources that could have been used either to help retake the mainfand, to build

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Taiwan" economy, or to help the needy at home, This interpretation recalls the traditional state cult view of ghosts. Ghosts are the needy, ancl people should contribute to the gcrvernment who will hetp those in need. The government has afscz tried a secondary theme, in which the festival was realfy a Buddhist ceremony of filial piety for deceased ancestors, This implied tlzat people should thus stop offering meat and forget about pitiful or dangerous ghosts.8 This ideal also harks back to the state cultdenial that ghosts really form a marginal category outside government mntml. These official attempts to manipulate tlze meaning of ghosts after 1949 were not as systematic as the state cuft had been, but both traditional and modern governments attempted vainly to undercut the ritual contrasts and tlze social experience of marginality that shaped popular treatment of:ghosts. Newspaper acccrunts of the Universal Salvation in 1960 illustrate the many official attempts to manipulate the festi~l-tl,and their general Eailure. By this time, the government had largely succeeded at what woufd be its only victory in this battle; it lzad gotten people to perform the ritual pritnarily on the fifteenth of:the seventh ltznar month, rather than on various days scattered throtzgbout the month. On the lunar thirteenth (3 September), the government hefd meetings to discourage people from sacrificing pigs or from offering large feasts. The popuface was supposed to ccrntribute the money it saved to focal reconstruction. Each area wctuld report its savings, and the most successfuf wctuld receive prizes (XSB, 3 September 1960:3). The next day however, the financial section of a daily newspaper reported that the price of pork was much higher, and that to meet the demand for pork offerings, f 501) pigs wctuld be killed h r the Taibei market that day, and 1800 were planned for the next. This contrasted wit11 the average slat~ghterof 1030-1040 pigs per day (XSB, 4 September 1960:6).YOn the lunar fifteenth in 1960, the papers again urged frugality and donations to the poor. Although the ceremony would not take place until that afternoon, the paper also claimed that people in Tiibei were indeed more frugal than before, An editorial on the same page, however, gave a very different impression, Xt said that the government was holding its meetings again this year, but that they would probably have no more effect than they had in any other year (XSB, 5 September 1960:3). It was thus already clear by f 960 that the government was not having an effect. V&en X saw the festival in 1976, 1977, and 1978, the government had already given tzp on its meetings, although it contintzed to editorialize about frugality; the evils of conspicuous ccrnsumpticzn, and the real meaning of the ceremony being filial piety, The indirect effects of: the government campaign a p p e a ~ dat a meeting called by the management of Sanxia's major ccrmmtznity temple. Every year, the temple assembled all the local village heads to organize the coming Universal Salvation. At tlze meeting it1 1978, two ixzdividrtals suggested tlzat Sanxia institute some of the gcrvernment's frugality measures; they wanted to require people tcr bring only vegetable offerings, which are much cheaper, but symboticatfy inappropriate for ghosts. One of: these individrtals was a politicall-y ambitious village head, a Cuomindang IJarty member who saw himself as a representative of the government. The other was the man in charge of the temple reconstructicrn

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which had been going on for over 30 yars, Various aspects of the reconstruction required government approval, and the temple official was under pressure to redtzce the templte" rituals or face denial of his requests, There was considerable popular opposition trt any restrictions, The planning grcrup finally agreed that they could not require the people to bring vegetarian offerit-tgs but that tl-tey would strongfy encorzrage the refcjrm, On the day of the ceremony, however, everyone brought the usual large meat offerings, including the people from the village of the ambitious village head. Eacl-t year tlze officials expressed their position, and each year the yeoylte ignored them. Thus, even local temples tack the organlxational power to impose their own version of the ghost festival. The Nationalist government Failed to discourage lavish exyenciitures on tlze Universal Salvation for the same reasons that the traditic~nalgovernment failed. First, it created no institutirjn that could impose its own version of ghrrsts as the correct reading. The meetings sponsored during the first years of its regime were a step in that directkn, but they probably did not reach the public any better tl-tan did rituals of the state cult. Second, popufar interpretations of ghosts continue tcr be shaped above all by an emphasis on marginality, As long as the interpretation of ghosts is tied to real experience of: marginality, supported by a symbolic structtlre of contrasts with gc~dsand ancestors, it cannot be countered by a new set of ideas that contradicts both the sociaf.and symbcjlic understandings of marginafiv.

Glzosts are tied in part to a syxnbolic structure it-t which they contrast with gods and ancestors. Long-term gcItPernment attempts to define ghosts simplty as ancestors (by emphasizing filial piety), or as law-level bureaucrats (by recognizing tlzem as minor bureaucrats it-t the state cult) were unsuccesshl. T11e ritual contrasts that set limits on the interpretation of ghosts have not changed over the years, but the interpretations of today differ from those of the late 19th century The move from dangerous political ghosts to pitiful kinship ghosts occurred because the marginal group in the ycrpulation has undergone a parallel change. The uprooted workers of the last century have become the abandoned otd of today. A clzange in the political economy of Tdiwan has changed the daily experiences that inspin: specific interpretations of the Universal Safvation. These interpretations were never rationalized into an explicit ideotog, and there has never been any sociaf meclzanisrn to separate orthorlox interpretations from lzeterodoxy, or to propagate ""correct" beliefs. The meeting at Sanxia" ssommuniw templte illustrates that even local popufar temples did not have this authority to require people to bring certain kinds of ritual offerings. Many anthropological theories of religion seek to determine the ideas behind a set of symbols, to decode the message of the ritual, Such theories in Taiwan give us a description of- ghosts as margitlal beings opposed to both ancestors and gods. This description sets the parameters far popular interpretation of ghosts, but it dctes ncrt determine those interpretations. We canncrt simply read a cultural

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order f o r a state-sponsored ideczlogy) into religious performance; we must also see how that p e r h r z a n c e , ancl the experiences tlzat go into it, influence intetryretation, Interpretations of the Universal Salvation in Taiwan changed rapidly because the symbolic code itself merely set broad limits. Just as important were the poiitical and economic experiences of the people who took part in the kstivaf. The possibility of constant reinterpretation, free from major institutional constraints, prevented the state from imposing its own versiczn of ghosts, and guaranteed tlze existence of alternatives to state idealogical control.

Notes l. I have roma~lizedplace narnes and Mandarin terms in Pinyi~l,and Hokkien terms following Bodman (2955). 2. S u e r became ant)ther crucial export from Taiwa11during this period. I do not consider it here because it was grown primarily in the southern part of the isjand, 3.1 have no unambiguous data that directly link these people to the gl~ostfestival. Given the thinness of the sources frotx this period, it is probably impossible to go beyond a giausibie hypothesis for this section of the argument. Nevertheless, evidence for the marginality of ghosts and for the state%opposition to popular worship of such ~nargi~lality seerns clear, 4. I distinpidz ""ieoLo&ynfrom most pt>pt~lar interpretation here only to indicate a differerzce in how far each has been sdf-cotlsciously codified into a general systern. I do not mean to imply. (as some other uses of tlze term miglzt suggest), that only formalized ideologies have poJiti(3ifl impIications. For example, X agree with Feuchtwang (1"35:73) that both pop~tlarix~terpretationsancl state ideolog f both "ideologies" in his terms, but rxot mine) represent ""ivarious ways, from various points of view, tl-tegeneral system of damInance and of defiance towards it." 5 , Gates (1982) has wggested that tlze resurgence of popular religion has been finnded primarily by a traditional middle class-largeliy Taiwanese (as opposed to mainlander), and largely cut off from tlze government and big busi~lesssectors that prt~vidernost opportunities ftx social mobility. Sl-teargues that these people spend money otl religion as a way of gaining status and investing in the local community; independent of (and possibly in opposition to) government and big business. This argurxent does not specifically address the ghost crrlt, hut my data are rxevertheless consistent with Gates's interpretation. 6. I will concentrate here only on government attexnpts to manipulate ghosts, largely igrxoring attempts to repress the festival entirely (wl~icllX arn acidressi~zgelsewhere). All three states in Taiwa11repressed the Universal Safvation for brief periods, but the gc>vernments always baclced off from the repression after a few years. The crrrrent government i s ambivalent about most popular religion, not actively represing most of it ((afterthe first few yeltrs of the regime), but solxetimes passively discouraging it. 7. Abercromhie and Turner (1978) have wggested that so-catled dominant ideologies (like the state cult) rarely simply 1nystiQthe masses, but instead affect primarily the elite. 8. The state does not usually show any speciat support for Bzxddhism. Xn this case, however, it is making oyport~inisticuse of the Buddhist origins of the festival in order to promote their own political goals. 9. By 1965, this had grizwrz to 2500 pigs, fully double the average at the time (XSU, 10 Augrxst 1"365:5).

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References Ahercrt~xnbie,Nicholas and Bryan S. Turner 197%.The Dolninallt Idec~iogyThesis. British Journal of SocioLoa 29: 149- 170. 13odman, W. C. 152555. Spoken Axnoy Hokkierz, Kuala Larnyur: Grenier and Son. Uavidson, Jarnes W. 1903. The Isla~ldof Formosa, Past and Present. Lorzdor~:Macmillan, DeGroot, J, J. M. 1885. Buddhist Masses for tlze Dead at Axnuy. Actes du SixiPme Congrks Ix?tterxrationaides Orientalistes, tent1 en t 883 ;iLeide, Section 4, Leiden: E, J. Rriil. 1886. Les FCtes Annueierne~ltCetebrdes B Emoui. C. G. Chavannes, transl, Antlales du MusCe Guimet 1 1 :2-399, 12:4CfO-830, USTZ 11872. Ua~lshttiTinphi, (Danslzui Prefecture Gazetteer), Chen Neig~i,camp. Ira Taiwan Quanxl~i.Taibei: Taiwan Jingshi Xinhaoshe, 1922. Feuchttua~lg,Steyhan 11374, Uo~nesticand Communal M"ors11ip i11Taiwan, Irz Refigion and ItituaI in Chinese Society*Arthur P. Wolf, ed, Stanfard: Stanford U~liversityPress. 1975. Investigating Retigion,I n M m i s t Analyses and Social Anthrt~potogy.Maurice Blclch, ed. New York: John FViley, 19776, School-Temple and City God. It$ The City i ~ rLate Xrnperiai China. G. Williarn Skinner, ed, Stanford: Stanfard Utliversity Press. Gates, HilI 1982. Are Thw Bourgeoisies Better Than One? Unyubiished man~xscript. Gordo~l-C~~mming, Constance Frederica 11900. Wanderings in China, Edinburgh: Ulackood. Harrell, Stevan 1974. When a Ghost Becomes a God. It? Religiorz and Rittxal in Chinese Society. Al-thur l? Wolf, ed, Stanford: Stanford University Press. Hsiao Kut~g-cl~lilan 1960, Eltlrat China: Imperial Control in the Nineteenth Century. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Jordan, David K, t 972. Gods, Ghosts, and Ancestors: The Folk EleIigion of a TaitvaneseViilage. Kerkelq: University aE Catiforxzia Press. Lin Manhung 1976. !Van Qiilg Taiiwan de Cha. Taxzg, ji Zl-tangnauYe, (The Tea, Sugar, and Camplzar Industries in Late Cll'ing Taiwan,) Taibei; Wenxian 38: 1-9. Mackay, George Leslie 1895. From Far Formosa. New York: Flerning H. Revell. Shikagane Kakutaro 1902. Shinhen PJe~xj:CtyTIEji. (New Cornpifatiorz of Annual Rituals.) Taiwa11Kansh :Kiji 7:67-69. Suzuki Seiichir~~ 119% 8 t 9341. Taiwatl Jiuguan Xisu Xinyang. (OId Custoins and Traditional UetieLs of Taiwa~l).Gao Xianzhi and Feng Zttomin, @d.,transl. Taihei: Zlzonpen TII Gongsi. TWPG 1665. Taiwan Frrzhi. (Taiwar~Prefectrrre Gazetteer). Compiled by tiiotr Weni. IPZ Taiwan Quanzhi, Taibei: Taiwan Jingshi Xixtbaoshe, 19222. TWSZ 1980. Taiwan Sheng Tc)ngi.,l~i.(Gornplete Gazetteer of Tai-cvan Provirrce), Cornpiled by the Taiwan She~lgWknxian bJeiyuanhui, Taibei: Zhor~kwenT~~sfiu. Wan$ Shiyi~rgX 976. Haisllan Shih~xa(Shang). f History of Haishan, Part 1,)Taihei Mienxian 37:49--131. Wickberg, Edgar 1981. Continuities in Land Tenure, 1900-1%0, In The Anthropology of Taiwa~leseSociety Ernily Martin Allern and Hill Gates, eds. $tanford: Staaford University Press. Wiieger, Leo 1913. Moral Tenets and Customs in China, Peking: Cathoiic Mission Press. Wolf, Arthtzr P. 1974a. Introduction, Xn Xteligion and ltitual in Ghilzese Society. Stanhrd: Stanford University Press, 1974b. Gods, Ghosts, and Ancestors. I n Refigion and Ritual I11 Chinese Society. Al-tlzur P. W01&ed. Stanford: Stanhrd University Press,

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Wolf, Artl~urI>., and Chieh-sl-ran Huang 1980. Marriage and Adoption in China, 1845-1 945, Stanhrd: Stanhrd University Press. Wolf, Margery 1975. Women and Srricide irr China, In Miornen in Chinese Sodety Marge,ery Wolf and Itoxanne Fliitke, eds. Sranford: Stallford University Press. XSR Xin Sheng Kao. Tfaiwan rxewspaper. Yao %ng 135711832). Dongcha Jiliie. (Sketch of My Assignment to Taiwan]. Taibci: Taiwan Yinbang.

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im Identity and Secu in Contemporary Turkey "The Headscarf Dispute" Ernelie A. Olson

In July, 1984, a dispute erupted in Turkey when a female chemical engineering professor insisted on wearing a headscarf while teaching. Xr? an attempt to understand how the headscarf has become such a potent symbol, the dispute is itlterpreted in the context of a basic idecrlogical ccrnflict which has shaped Turkish culture and society over the last 150 .years, -Author"sAEitslrclct

ON

J U L Y 31, 1984, the Ankara-based Daiiy News published a picture of three women students, one of tl~emwearing a t u h a n with her academic robe. The accompanying article noted that the turbaned woman, wh~rgraduated with highest honors horn the Medical Faculty at the Universiv col Ankara, was alfctwed tcr gradxtate bat not to make the speech traditionally delivered by tlze toy student. A week earlier, on july 22, MiEliyet, an Istanbtzl-based daily newspaper, had pictured two women arranging their beadsmrves in an attempt to clariEy the definii, "head covering,'" but meaning ""hadscarE' tion of the word ba$ I j r t ~ ~ iliterall& The picture caption read: "Ttrrban-Headscarf Dispute Continues.'" The article described the angry reaction of four medical stxrdents who were suspended from Ufudag Univcrsity in Bursa for coming to uniwrsity exams with scarves which they said w r e wrapped around their heads "turban-style." By July 26, the ""hadscarf controversy" had reached the front page of the Mz'lE&et; On that date, Dr. Koru, Assistant Professor of Chemical Engineering at Aegean Univcrsity in Izmir, was pictured in her headscarf, with the caption: "This Is My Phsssophy of Life." The headline proclaimed: "Assistant Professor Koru Gave This Response to Her ltector's

Arithro~>~Engic~zl Q~iarterly5864) (October 1985): 161-1 "i",

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Warning: Even Xf They Exyet Me, X Will Not Give Up My HeadscarCSSubtitles added dramatic details: Prof. Koru says tlzat if she had gone around in a mini-skirt and a lcrw-necked dress that the Dress Iilegulation mtzld ncrt have been enforced. She says she will resign if she is required to take off her headsart University Rector Akgiin is quoted as saying, ""Off-duty she can do as she pleases but while on duty let her take off her headscarf, I have found a sc>lutiontc> this prc3blern: if she wishes she can tie on a turban, Then no one can see her head or her hair.'" X n her response to tlze rectal; Koru cXaimec2 that her constitutional rights were being abridged: According to the third article of the Constitution, freedorn of religior~and conscience is protected for evewne. The expression of religiarts views and beliefs can rxever be hirldered, Xn Turkey this subject is completely misunderstood. Two years ago I went to the USA. For two pars, I studied peacekfly in Bt~stonat the wcjrld3 best technical university:Axnerican scientists and those froxn other countries reacted y wearing a headscarf with respect. But we [T~~rks] are afraid to make clear 011s to m views. OF course, in this wdy we wilt rlever accolxplish anytl~ing.,

On an inside page, the reporter recttunts ""The Story of the Incident"": This is the first time in our country that solxeolle has colxe to work sikvruh6t4 (""cveredW")nd that a court adjudication has been made regarding this resistance, Dr. Koru refused to relxove her headscarf while giving lectures to undergraduates at Aegear~University. S S h was given first a "~.varxzing"and then was ""cerzsrrred" by the university administration, Following this, Dr. Koru opened suit protesting these sanctions In the 1st Administrative Court in Izrnir. The court, in examining her suittit, declared that the sanctions apl~fiedby the universiq were ""tegait:"and that Dr. Konr has fc~undno legai basis for her claim that "under the constitutional guarantees of religious belief and freedoms, wearing a headscarf was also eslablisfied as a freedoxn, a right." The authorities stressed that, as a pt~hlicemployee, plaintiff Koru has only one possible alternative, to demot~strrztethat [permitting the headscarf] is absolutely essential to fulfilling the requirements o f t l ~ principles e oF""laicism" which constitute the hrzdamentai characteristics of ltegu blicaniszn, Xn the meantime, the M i n i s t ~of Higher Education has issued a statement that, "A modern turban may be worn instead of a headscarr and comsxunicated its concerns about the situation in a written memo to the universities, However, since Dr. Koru will not accept the turban and continues her imlsistence on wearing a headscarf while teaching, public apirrioxl waits curiously to see what dimensions this subject will develol3 in the days ahead.

The following day, July 27, the MilEiyet again gave the dispute front-page coverage, declaring, "The Headscarf Ccrntroversy grow^." Under the headline, "Women M.Efs Are Against the Professor," h e photographs of three women are showla, all wearing tlae dark suits and short lzairstyles of professional T~~rkislz women. In the articles, the M.T",s\taternents were reported in some detail. For example, the Deputy from Isyarta Province, ANAP member Mlkriban Edrern, re-

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ported that many requests had come from students asking the National Assembly to deal with tlze headscarf issue. H~wevef;slze argued that the valid course of action m u l d be to amend the entire Dress Regulation, not merely make a new law about headscarws. The Eclirne Deputy, ANAP member Tarkaa Arikan, caIlecl attention to ""rhtictnships betwen this matter and w m e n ? rights and religious attitudes:%ut emphasized that ""there can be no cancessirtns that victlate existing laws or AtaturKs principles.'" Prof. Tare Tunc;bay, member of the old DM party, declaring that ""personal philosophies" are a threat to social order, stressed that taws and regufations were set up for the society's development. She continued, "As a woman, my respect for the state and the laws that try to bring about a developed society through Ataturps refc~rmsis infinite. E appraise this incident from this perspectiw [alone]; it has no connection with freedctm of religion and conscience as she [Dr. Karu] claims? The MDP Deputy from Izrnir, Isilay Saygin, declaring her support for the principle of respect for everpne7sreligious views, added, Thank God we are Muslims. But at) matter what, to say, "I will wear a scarf. . . ", :this has notl~ingto do with being a Muslim. Man xnust make his feet fit the current, moderate path. On top of this, I Ilever apprtlve of such clothes ill university life. Our most ideal dress co~~ventions were introduced by Ataturk in about the yeltr 1934.

En an interview, tlze tmivcrsity Rector dismissed tlze incident as ""a hurricane in a spoonful of water." A definite Dress Kegulatiort that applies to government i~rstitutionshas been estahlislled. [More recently], a systematic investigation into the apprt~priatenessof this regrriation has been opened up, Fmm orxr point of view, this is a simple matter. Docent Koru talks about freedom of religion and conscience, but . . . the s~ibjectis reiated only to the Dress ftegulatian, On the following day, July 28, the MiEliyet featured pictures of men and Mrarnen in various modes of dress which are prohibited by the Dress Regulation. On an inside page, the article continues by noting tl-tat "Witl~the illcrease in the number of those who go about wearing c;ar.$af (a bedsheet-like overgarment covering a wrnan" head and body), turbans, skullcaps, and headscartres, the Dress Xtegulation dispute has once again appeared on the agenda.'The articie reports a new incident from Ankara, the capital: It has been learned that two stlidents wearing scarves who wished to use the Library of the National Assembly (TRMM) were informed that they corxici rxot enter the library dressed this wdy, In the face of this growing dispute, the article contintzes, some "jurists" have inlrestigated the subject and report that they have not found a clear law prohibiting such dress in general, The views of one jurist are presented as foinllows:

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Prof. Aksay reports that with the ""ht econorny law" "ntr~drxcedin 19251, civil ernpioyees accepted the wearing of bats with great difficulty, but they were not immediately taken to jail b r itrappropriate hehavior. Aksay reminded us that wearing the uniform and cap of soldiers, ofgcers, civil police, and sttzdents is forbiddell to the general populace by another iatv; and that Iaw r?tlx~ni>er 2596 forbids the wearing of religious garments except by religious officials in places of worship and dtlring religious ceremonies. [In contrast], there is at) cfear law prohibitir~gthe wearing of the v&, the fafvt~r [baggy trouser worn traditionally by both xnen and wornen], or the ~ar$i-~J In the "Hat Law", the beret, the fez and the skull cap WIT eoutiawed, but there is no law reiating to the farmer items. Fur things Like iheadscar\besand the ~ u r $ f during ~J the eras In which AtaturWs reforms were taken seriorrsly, those who were In power were abbe to prevent the wearing of such ctotlsing itdministrativefy thy xnaking a variety of decrees and r e g ~ l a t i oDuring ~. the eras when Ataturk"~reforms were not taken seriously, in the absence of a cfear law that applied, it was said that one could encounter people wearing such clothes on the streets qrxite freqtrently. On July 29, the last article in tlze Milliyet series reported tlzat tlze University's right to dismiss Prof. Karu from lzer jobs fifth stage in the process of sanctions which may be imposed on her-will be reccrgnized by the court. Context and XnterpreZiztian Wow did the headscarf come to be such a potent symbol in Turkey? Why did the wearing of headscarves by Professor Koru ancl the students arouse such strong reactions by the uni-trersity administration and the members of I%rliament? First, the ""covering" of women has great symbolic significance aIi over the Middle East, but the ways in whiclz headcoverings are used anci their meanings vary from place to place, For example, in neighboring Iran, the government which came to power with the overthrow of the Shah insists that w m e n cover tlzemselves with the traditional chada' This has reportedly met with vociferous protests from many members of the educated elite, In Egypt, Fadwa El-Ctlindi (1981) argues, the qar4 af has been adopted by some feminists partly as a symbolic shield against their being treated as sex-objects. In contrast, in the cities of Turkey, wearing a headscarf on university premises in the summer of 1984 led to the censure and possible dismissaf of an assistant professor of chemical engineering anci to various sanctions against students, notably medical students. Second, that Turks were exquisitely aware of the symbolic value of differences in dress and appearance (including facial and body hair) was obrsiorxs even to me as an antl-tropologicafly-~~ntrained resident in T ~ ~ r k from e y 1964 to 1966, When I returned to Turkey in 1970-7 1, the details had changed but the sensitivity was, if anything, heightened, In the highly politicized, culturally diverse environment of T ~ ~ r k einy 1970-72, I, like everyone else, maniyutated my appearance according to role, audience, neighborhood, region, etc. By the end of the decade, as political tensions mounted, even the curve or droop of a man" mustache was carefully

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calibrated for its potiticaf significance. In 1980, after the military intervention in September of that year, one of the acts of the new government whiclz lzad been installed by the military was to introduce the "Dress and Appearance Regulation.'" This regulation prohibited employees while on duty in pubiic agencies, offices, and institutions from wearing, in tlze case of men, mustaches, beads, ancl long hair, and in the case of wctmen, mini-sltirts, low-necked dresses, and headscarxs (ba4 lirtUsU), This was interpreted as applying to students, since all universities and most scl~oolsat the lower levels are now public it~stitutions, By 1980, Turkish society1 had become politicized to an extreme degree, and cttnfilct had escalated into acts of violence so frequent and destructive that commentators describecl the sitrration in such terms as "civil war" and "total anarch<" Confronted by this breakdctwn in public order, the authorities decided that the manipulation of dress as political symbol contributed to the tense situation, The cttnspicrrous and constant ""signing" of religious and potitical views through dress and lzair by extremists on aff fronts2 was seen as both inflaming passions and making the ""enemy" (ton both sides too easily identifiable to snipers and assasshs. Although the Dress Xtegui[ation dates only to 1980, the roctts of this ghenctmenon-the lzighly charged symbolism attaclzed to dress and appearance-reaclz back for at feast a century. Nineteenth century Turkish nationalism had self-consciously developed under the inffuence of European models of ""modernity" with tlzeir characteristic emylzases on complex technalogy Western sdence, nationalism, constitutionalism, etc. (Shaw 1981: 384-188). As a part of the Turkish nationatisrn that developed in the late nineteenth and early mentieth centuries, a unique form of ""secularism" came to dominate. At the risk of over-simpti+ing a very complex and much-analyzed phenomenon (cf. Berkz 19641, it shcztzfd be pointed out that this Tr1rkisl-x""secularism" i s not the equi~palentof American secularism, which includes the ""sparation of churcll ancl slate:" as the cliche has it. Rather; it is a form called "laicism" "4z"rElz"k)in which religious practice and institutions are regulated and administered by the ""sate.'%s interpreted by Turkish naticznalists during this period, the aim of ""lieism" was the ""modernization"of all aspe&s of culture, state, and society that had their roots in traditional Islamic cctncepts and traditions, Thus, in the place ofthe Islamic soclew of the Ottoman Empire-in which the Sultan was also the CaEiph and where the mz'tlet2t.r (literafib "nations,'" but referring ta the non-Muslim religiorzs communities) occupied rather separate and autonomous positions in society-a ""secularist" state and society would be created, With the overtlzrow of the Ottoman government by the Nationalists ancl the establishment of the new Turkish Republic in 1924, these ideas were incorpczrated into many of its instituticzns. This new government instituted many radical reforms. As its first President, Mustafd Kemaf Pasha-better h o w n as Afaturkwas the force behind most of these reforms, and yet it must be remembered that he was only the mast dramatic and successful in a iong line of reformers inspired by the models of Western Etlroye. The aim was to "&isestablish"" Islam in Turkey, to fimit its powers tcr 'hatters of belief and worship" "ewis 1968: 4 12). Those Muslim instituf ctns that were m s i d -

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ered to be particufarty ""backward" andlor a political and economic threat: to the success of the new Tt~rkshRepublic-such as the dervislz brotherhoods (tekke) ancl the religiotzs shrines (Mrbel-were closed and their prc3perty apyrc3yriated by the national government, turned into museums or diverted to other state purposes. Tl1e Quranic schools, seminaries, and evkaf (wkfor religious endowments) came tznder state control (as did non-Muslim religiotzs institutions such a the ktriarchate of the Greek Orthodctx Church), and their curricula, personnel apyointments, etc., came under spate scrutiny (S11aw ancl Shaw 1977: 384-85). It was during this period alst:, that laws adcjpting European dress were passed, with the implication that tradidonai Ottoman dress atso carried conncttations of Muslim ""bckw~rdness.'3ince at least the middle of tlze nineteenth century, various grotzps of ""yrogressixs'kho admired European p~->wer, ide01ogies~and cultural patterns, had alsc->esyc->usedthe adoption of European dress and had single out the man" fez and the wcjman" veil and c;ar$ af as particularly ""backward;""t was argued by some tl-tat the ideal Ottoman ""evering'kf women was an alien practice of Persian, Arabic, or Byzantine origin which violates tenets of "true Turkish" "culture that had been obsemed for centuries while their Turkish ancestors lived in Central Asia, A true Tt~rkshwoman, it was argued, had never been ""c>veredm"ktinan 1962). Although Ottoman Tirrkish women were not as ""covered," in general, as their Arab or Persian counterparts, headcoverit~gsof various types were worn in the early ~ e n t i e t hcentury by the majority of Turkish wtjmen, whether Muslim, Christian, or Jewish,They included many varieties of headscawes, prayer shawls, i2ivlGd shawls (far wear when the poem commemorating Mulzammad's birthclay was sung), veils, and the (;ar4 af. Various versions of the salvar-a baggy trouser-were Mrorn by both men and w m e n . Tlze fez was the most common type of headgear for Muslim males, but not the only one, nor was it exclushe ta Muslims. Here again, in the dress reforms, Mustafa Kemal lE)asha%leadership was dramatic. Xteportedly having been embarrassed years early in France by the ""Qriental" appearance of tlze Ottoman military delegation of which lze was a member (Balfour 1964: 421, he was determined that Turks give tzp their traditional forms of dress in fawr of European styles. )lowever, he was also aware of the resistance tlzere would be to such changes by the majority of the population, Relying Izeavily on his personal pc->pularivand Eame as the leader of the Mdar of Liberation and on tile general euphoria which greeted the successful end of that struggle, he and the leaders of the new government pushed fc3rward the ""Eropeanization" of Turkish dress through a combhation of Legislation and social pressure, In 1925, wearing the fez was prohibited by law and the hat became the official headgear for men. The abolition of the fez as the ""last bastion of Nastim identification and separateness" was an intentional and cafcutated shock tactic: (Lewis 1968: 268). Mustafa Kemalk hatred of the fez is illustrated in this excerpt from a speech made in October 1927: Gentlemen, it was necessary to ahoiish the fez, which sat orz the I~eacisof our nation as an elxblelx of ignorance, negligence, fafanaticism, and hatred of progress and civi-

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lization, to accept in its place the hat, the I~eadgearused by the whole civitized wrtci, and in this way to dernunstrate that the Turkish nation, in its mentality as in otl-ter respects, In r?toway diverges from civilized life (1,euris 1968: 268). As noted in tlze jurist's account quoted above, T~~rkislz men generally founci this a difficult change, with initial opposition by some because the hat's brim interfered with putting the forehead to the Aoor in the Muslim prayer posture of prostration, Since the prayer skullcap had been prohibited along wit11 the fez, and since Muslim practice requires that the head be cowred during prayer, some Turkish men adapted themselves trr the new law by warling visored caps and, during prayer, by turning the visors of their new caps to the b a c k of: their heads (like the catcher in American baseball w a r s his cap), Also in 1925, the formal adoption of "European" "dress legaffy allcowed women to unveil (Tctprak 1981: 2881, although, as nctted above, the majority of Turkish women, especially peasant women, had never been veiled. Furtlzel; women were strongly enccruraged by leaders of both sexes personally to adopt ""European'" dress, and wcjmen wearing such clothing were celebrated in public by these teaders, But unlike the man's fez anci skullcap, no item of "~aditional"women's dress was y rohibited by law. As noted by the jurist yuoed above, the degree to which "Ataturk"sWideas on dress were followeci by the general public fluctuated over time, in response to yolitical and ideological climates, Howe.rer, despite the differences in approach to men" and wrnen" dress and the fact that men were not immediately and universally punislzed for non-compliance with the "Hat Law,'" not onfy did the fez disappear from Turkish life but the veil virtually did so as well, The 5ar4 af also became much less common, its use varying greatly by occasion, region, and social stratum, and continuing as a symbol of social prestige among some groups. Xn general, village women contintzed to cover their hair with the traditional metersquare headkerchief of thin cotton-black or brightly-cofored for wctrk, white g a u z d o r special occasions-, while many urban women of the working-and middle-classes wore the ""bbushka,'" 'Westernn-style scarf knotted under the chin, when in public. My own observations b e ~ e e n1964 and 1984 suggest that for most of: tlzese women, outside of nzligiaus contexts, wearing eitl~erthe h a d Ieerchief or the ""bbushka" "was more ""conventionaf" &an ""Musli~n."In contrast, Mrarnen in the educated and professional classes (perhaps especialiy teachers, who tended to be particularly inR~tencedby the idealism of the period) have somewhat militantfy gone bareheaded, both in rural and urban settings. Continuities and Divergence These incidents of July>1984, which X have referred to as the ""hadscarf dispute:" slzould be interpreted as recent skrmisihes in a long-term conflict between twa major ideological qstems in modern Tt~rky,one which has been built into the very fabric of Turkey's political, social, emnomic, and cultural systems since behre the founding of the Republic. Although there are several strands to tlzis conflict, anci

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the WOpoles, vary according to such hctors as the incident, the locate, the participants, or the commentators, in broad terms it is b e ~ e e tr-uo n opposing sets of orientation. As it relates to the present dispute, perhaps the two most important v"cf.riants of the "two sides" in the ideolo&cal clcrnflict are 1) Turkish ""nationalism"versus Muslin1 identity and 2) secularism (laicism) versus an "islarnic society.'" This idecrlogical conflict is more dialectical than merely trypositicznal, Over the last 150 years or so, Turkish realizations of ""nafonatism" versus "Muslim identity" md af ""scularisln" versus an ""xlamic society,'" respectively, have evolved not in isolation but in interaction with each other. For example, in the earZy nineteenth century, early stirrings of c'"nationalism" within the Ottoman Empire, in response to European thl-eats to its very existence, were framed in terms of Muslim identity. As the Ottoman Empire ccrntinued to decline and to lose many of its non-Anatolian lands and populations, interest in linguistic and ""ehnic" "components increased. This trend eventuaHy led to the development of a concept af "Turkish" rather tl-xan.""Ottaman'2identity and to the tzse of the terrn "Turk" instead of ""Ottoman," wen though "Turk"" was once a pejorative terrn used to refer only to "uncivilized" "lrlbesmen or peasants, Howver, even in tlzis period, the terrn "Turk" actually discriminated primarily in terms of refigisn, not ""ethnicity" or language, That is, a "Turk"" was a Turkish-speaking Muslim, while a ""Greek" or an "Armenian" was a member of a social group identified with a particular Christian tradition. To be ""Greek" a r "hmenian" did not necessarily mean that one spoke Greek or Armenian as the ""mother tongue" (many, perhaps the majority, had spolcen only Turkish for generations), nor that one came from separate ""racial stock," since there lzad been several centuries af admixture between the various ycryulations and of conxrsion and re-ccrnlrersion b e ~ e e nIslam and Christianiy (Shaw 1976; Vryonis f971.),3As Tt~rkish"nationalism'Yevefoyed in the twentieth century, however; less emylzasis was placed a n religion and more on ethnicity, with attention focused on specific "Turkish"' elements traceable to their Central Asian origins and to earlier eras in Anatofia. Nevertheless, for many Turks today>Muslim identity-or at least the Islamic cultural heritage-is an inseparable part of Turksh nationalism, I saw eloquent evidence of this last summer in the broadcasts over Turkisi-xnationaf television during Kamazan, where religious programs were presented in the cantext of Turkey's rich national heritage, not in the context of the pan-Islamic ccrmmtznity. Somewhat similar to this prcrcess whereby Muslim identity has become deeply (but not totally) "nationalized" in T~~rkey, ""secularism" and the ideal of: an ""Xlamic society" have also deeply influenced each other. First, many cornmentatc>rs have noted that Turkislz nationalism, with its modernist, secularist, and ethnic components, came to perform many of the functions typically performecl by religion (Shaw and Sl~aw1977: 388). A wide array of""scularn wstoms and institutions deliberately advocated as replacements for ""tslamic" ones by the early leaders of:tlze Republic have tlzus became imbued with deep ematianal and symbolic meanings. On the other hand, the question of an "Islamic society" today in a secufarist Turkey is complicated by the phenomena typically referred to as the "Is-

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iamic Revivaf" or the ""resurgence of Islam" in the Middle East, In the case of Turkey, commentators have focused on a variety of phenomena over the last three decades (Lewis 1952, 1968; Mango 1960; Reed 1954; Rustc>w1956; Stirling 1958; Tibawi 1956; Taprak 1981, 1984; Ludington 1984). For example, there has been an increase in tlze public expression of support for traditional Muslim devotional exercises and perhaps also in their actual practice, The ""hadscarf incidents" reflect the increasingly freqrrent public appearance of ""Xlarnic" ymbctls among the Turkish populace in general. This includes the manipulation of: symbols other than dress and appearance, e,g., the use of the Arabic language; the reopening and re-hrbishing of mosques, tGrbe (saintshshrines), and tarikar (Sufi lodges); and public recital of religious poetry ancl music. The findings of these commentatc>rssuggest that any such "revival" is far from a unitary mclvement, not only in that the airns of those who are invc>lvedare diverse and hquently in conflict with each other, but also that the predominating airns change over time. Furtl~er,with some exceptions, the debate is conducted in the ot~erallcontext of ""scufarism;""For example, while some supycrrters of Saidi Nursi in the arnpaign preceding the 1960 election were attracted by his demand for a Mastim theocracy headed by a CalipblSuf~an,an ""Xlamic society:" even the radicalfy neo-Islamic Naticonal Salvation Party of the 19700s promised changes that were generally within the Frameuvark of constitutional democracy (Taprak 1984). Further, since tlze 1980 military intervention, it appears that extremist vc>iceson all sides have largely been silenced, at least in public. That a two-value mc,del IS an over-simylificafon is immediately obvious. Both T~~rkish nationalism ancl Muslim identity may also include a kincl of tnternationalism whose relevance and character vary frcrm one person to the next. That is, in general, Turkish ""nafonaIismmi s most typically expressed in terms indicating a desire to be a part of the "modern,'" secular, European-dominated international system, whether econclmic, political, culttural, or social. In contrast, "Muslim identity" is sometimes expressed with references to membership in the ""Muslim World," in the use of Arabic as tlze sacred language for Mtzslims of all nationatities, and even in the adoption of "traditional Muslim" vmbols-like headscartres-that have come into cross-national use but that had not previously been an integral part of T ~ ~ r k sMuslizn lz practice. In the seccrnd case, contemporary Turfeish interpretations of ""secularism" and ""Xstamic Society" a n lead to comyZicated and unpredictable results. First, ""secularism" may mean 1 ) being a krvent hllower ofGAtaturk's"ididealogtes, 2) practicing Islam as a private citizen in a secular state, or 3) both. Proycrnents of an ""Iiarnic saciet-)rW vary greatly in their definidons of such a society and the degree to whiclz tlzey would ixnpose ""2lamic'>radices on the populace. TIlus, within tl-tis context, it is very significant that Prof. Koru defends her wearing of the headscarf while teaching by arguing to her ""constitutional rights" rather than by appealing to Muslim authority, white the ""secularists" w110 criticize her do so on the basis of a claim that ""ticism" clearly is compatible with dress regulations that override her alleged ""religious beliefs." IronlcaIXy, this dispute thus appears to put the ""sc-

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ufarists" in a position that is self-contradictory, at least insofar as the term ""scutarism" i s used to refer to the ""sparation of church and state" and to the constitutional guarantees of the ""Ereedom of religion and conscience." Despite its oversimplificatims, this diaiecticaf model dctes illuminate the "headscarf dispute." That is, it is argued here that tlze headscarf incidents reported last summer arotzsed such intense passion precisely because the wearers are members of the highly educated efite, those who are assumed to share w-ifl-x tlzeir critics the same general commitment to "Ataturk's principles,""to Turkislz nationalism, to ""licism)" and to ""modernization." T h s , the headscarf-wearing professor and sttrdents are seen as ""btraying the Faith," as threatening the very ideological wellsprings of Turkish culture and society, Tb put this set crf incidents in further perspective, it appears to me that there are some parallels to recent trends in the United States. '50 some extent, ""Isiamic Xtevival" 5-1Turkey in general, and the wearing of a headscarf by Prctf. Koru while teaclling in particular, are similar to the "religious revival" "presented in the U.S. by I ) the growth of "fundamentalist" and ""charismatic" mmo.l.ements, congregations, and denominations, ranging frcrrn such tong-lived groups as "Youth for Christ" to the more recent evolution of the "Moral Majority>"2 ) tlze fc>uxrciingof new "counter-culture" rerelions stzch as the Hare Krishna and the ""Noonies:" which are either imports from other regions of the wctrld, mast ncttably East and South Asia, or syntheses and adaptations of religious elements originatitlg in those parts of the world; and 3) the g r c 3 ~ hof new movements within Protestant Christianity (e.g., the "Jesus FreaksW")whose appeal is predominantly to the same "mounter-cufturIr""population. In both countries, these phenomena represent respcrnses ttr the increased secularism and materialism of contemporary society and an attempt to reftorm it through appeal to religious belief and practice. They also represent attempts to deal with the illcreased stress of living in societies which are tzndergoing extremely rapid social change.4 The response of members of the ""etahlishment" in Turkey and the United States has parallels as well: it is because the professor and students who wore headscarves in Turkey-like most of the followers of the ""cc>unter-culture" religions in the United States-are drawn from the most highly-educated classes that the response in both countries n both countries, for the members of has often been one of wounded outrage. X these privileged classes, who have been given the best their ccruntries and their parents have to offer, to reject the dominant ideology threatens the very foundations of traditional mainstream "Fditln"".'

Notes l. I wollld like to thank the Institute of Turkish St~~dies and Whittier GoLiege for grants supporting research in the sulnrner uf 19884. Thanks also to the staff of %bhsan Cizakqa Lisesi in Bursa for their hospitality and assistance, cspecialy to the founder and to the director of the schoui Saheyh Cizakqa and Leylr~lCizakqa Ozalan, respectitrely, I owe a debt of gratitrxde also to Fatrna YBksel, and to the Mel~metK07ak, Mustafa Ozcan, and Mustafa

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Unal families for their hospitality and friendship over the twenty years that have passed since I first met tllem in a village in southwestern Tirrkey, Friends in both piaces aim graciously gave perxnission for their pliotographs to he used in this article, The useful and stimulating coxnlnents by colleagues Deniz Kandiyoti of London, CiA deln K& itqiba4 i of Istanbui, and GIenn Yoctrm of Miftier College, who read earlier drafts of this manuscript, are also gratefLIIly acklowledged. 2, For example, Toprak refers to attempts in the 70s by a ""new elite" within the now-disbanded neo-Islacnic Natio~lalSafvatio11 Party to create ""idige~lous styles for Muslim women'hand to iegitimize "traditioxlai Xslamic'3ress (1981: 292). 3.. " J e w s ' h e ~more identifiably separate in terms of histo~y,culture, and origin, since yersemany had carne to Turkey as refugees from one of the sr-recessive waves of Christia~~ cution. Xn contrast, whether Christian or Mrrsliin, an "Arab" was someone whose ""mother toxlgue" was Arabic. 4. X am gratefaII to Dr. Cigdem K& it~iba4i of Rogaziqi University in Istanbul fbr independent cornments s~iggestingsirnilar parallels betcveen the U.S. and Turkey. In response to an earlier draft of this paper which made no mention of these parairels, she pointed c m several similarities. Slie commented that, after several exte~ldedperiods of study and re sear cl^ in the US,, including the 1983-1984 academic year in the U,S, as a Fulblhril;ht scholar and travelling rather extensively as a speaker thrc3srdlout the country, she was impressed by the elcments of ""religious revival" she obser\bed, She noted ~irtictliaxiythe rtde of religion as a rneans of coping with stress In moderxr societies. As slie phrased it, "the more individrxai (cominunal?) h n d i o n of religion as a relief fmxn stress is probably operatixlg in the face uf unsettling sociai change and mobility. This (T~~rkisli incident] is not that different karn peuplc seeking reftrge i11 evangelistic grclups, various messianic cults, even encounter m u p s , etc. In the U.S, D~iringmy trivets in the U.S. and Canada througliout last year and earlier, I was surprised at the extent to which s~ichreti&ous revival was televisd, especially in the Midwest on Surlday mornings. 1 also remember being especially struck by a large nuxnber of young people who were called Youth for Christ wlio liad their coi~ventionat Queen" University in Kingston, Unrario, Canada, in 1979.'" 5,Toprak"s carehi sttrdy (l"384) of the brief history of the rxeo-Islamic National Salvation Party between 1972 and 1980 suggests similar farces at work which contributed both to the birth and the demise of the party.

References Abadan-Unat, Nermin 1963-Social change and Tt~rkishwomen. Ankara, Turkey: Ankara Oniversitesi Basirnevi. Afetinan, A. 1962-The emanicipatior~of the Turkish wornan. The Netherlands: UNESCO. Kalfour, Patrick f Lord Kinross) 1%4-Ataturk: A biography of Mustafa Kemai, father of modern Turkey. New York: Wiiiliarn Morrow and Cornparry, Kerkez Niyazi 1 9 6 G T h e development of sectrlarisrn in Turkey. Montreal: McGill tlrtiversity Press. El-Guinrfi, Fadwa 1981-Veiling Irrfitah with Muslim ethic: Egypt's contelnporary Islalxic Movement, Social Problems 28: 465-485. Lwis, Bernard 1952-Islamic revival in Tt~rkey.International Affairs 28: 38-48. 1968-Tl1e emergence of modern Turkey. New tiiork: Oxford University Press,

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hdington, Nicl~olasS. 1984-T~~rkish Xslam and the secular state. The Muslim World Toda.?l;Qccasiunal Payer No, 1. Washington, D.C.: The America11 Institute for Islamic Afffairs, Mango, A.J.A. 1960--Islam in Turkey. Xn The Islamic Wear East. Dougias Grant, ed, Toronto: University of Toront~)Press. Millyet 1984-July 222,26--29. Ista~lbul,Turkey. Reed, Hotyard A, 1954-Revival of Islam in secular Turkey, The MiddIe East journal 8: 267-282.

ltUst~w,Dankwart A, 1956-Politics and Islam in Turkey, 1W2-1955. Xn Islam and the West. Kichard N.Frye, ed. The Hague: Mouton and Co. SI-tawlStanford 1976-History of the Ottoman Ernpire and xnodern Turkey,Vol. I: Emk~ire of the Gazis, New York Cambridge University Press, Shaw, Stanford J. and Ezei b r a 1 1977-History of the Qtrornan Empire and xnodern Tt~rkey.Wlume XI: Reform, revolution, and republic. New k r k : Cambridge University Press. Stirling, Paul 1958-Reliigiorxs change In repubiican Turkey The Middle East Jorrrnal 12: 395-408. Tibawi, A L . l"356-Isla1x and secularism in Turkey today, Quarterly lteview 294: 325-337. Society NerToprak, Binnaz f 981-Religion and Turkish wcjmen, In Wcjrnen in T~~rkish min Abadan-Unat, ed. Leidexz: E.J. BriII, pp. 281-292. 1%4-Politicisatiun of Isjam In a secrrlar state: The National Salvation Party in Turkey, In Frorn Nationalism to XXevoJutionary Islam, Said Amir Ajornand, ed, Albany, New York: State University of New tiiork Press, pp, 119-133. Iliirkisi"~D~~l'ly News 1984-July 3 1. Anliara, T~~rkey. TSryonis, Speros, fr. 1971-The decline of medieval helIenism In Asia Minor and the process of IsIamization from the eleventh thrcjttgh the fifteenth Gentu~y.Nerkeley: h i versity of Caiibrnia Press.

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6

The Interpretation o f ~ o A Hopi Conundrum Peter M. Whiteley

Anthropological representaticzns of Hogi potity are ambiguous and contradictory. This article attempts tct interpret Hopt structures, concepts and practices of ""pwer" within their associated cultural contexts, It argues that the reason for the differing and conhsing views of Hopi ethnography lies in the radical disjunction of Western conceptual domail~s(primarily ""politics" and ""religton"")hicich tend to underpin anthropological thought. It is suggested that these anthropotogical preconceptions impede the understanding of culrural systems which do not manifest parallel epistemological divisions, but which still embody systems of social inequality and entrenched concepts and practices thrctugh whtcl-r these are realised. The particular foundations of Hopi hierarchy are examined and a. possible solution is suggested to the representational diliernrna produced by the cultural bias of ethnographies based on Western formalist categories. -Author"sAbstmct

T H e S-ruou oi: H ~ P PIO L I T I C S I S KII)I)LEI) W H H CONTKAI)ICI.IONS. The Hopi are variously described as a theocracy and a hierarchy [krsons 1933: 53), not a theocracy and not a h terarchy (Tif-iev 1944: 591, as hav111g "never devefoped a pofiticaf society'? ((Eggan 1964: 1821, as an ofigarclzy (Upham 1982: passim), as egalitarian (Hieb 1979: 181), and as having "incipient social classes" "arvey 1972: 2 10). In general works, the Hopi have been situated at the ""lribaf" kvel of sociocutrural itltegration (e.g. Lewellen 1983: 651, which is defined to entail a. fundamental egalitarianism and the lack of hereditary leadership roles. m e n c e comes such confusion? At first blush, it is tempting to seek its source in differing tlzeareticai predilections, But in fact, long before antl~royologicaliyar-

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adigms were a minkte in the Enlightenment eye, similar clcrntradictions obtained, Pedm de Castafieda, chronicler of the a r o n a d o expedition of 1540, noted that Tusayan (Hopi) "is governed like Cibola [Zunij by an assembly of the oldest men. They 11ave their governors and generals (sus gcovernadoresy capitanes)" "Vinship 1896: 489). He elaborated further a n the sitElatinn at Zuni, again explicitfy comparing it to Hoyi: They do not have chiefs as in New Spain, but are goverxred by a corrncif of the oiciest men, They have priests who preach to them . . . these are the elders. . . . They tell thern I~otuthey are to live, and X believe that they give certain cornmanciments for thern to keep f Winship 11896: 518).

Oligarchy, thec>cracyand gerontocracy- might all seem appropriate inferences &om this account. In contrast, however, Diego IJerez de Luxan, chronicler of the next entrada in 1583 (the Esg3ejo expedition), reported fmm Oraibi: ""eery puebio in this province is ruled by three a r four caciques and the cacique has as little power as the ordinary Indian; hence they are all equal" "ammond 8r Rey 1966: 1934). The divergence of vievvpoints among Euro-American obsertrers of Wopi potity thus lzas considerable antiquity. Eggan, I believe, effectively locates the problem: Hoyi political organization i s difficult to characterize because a~xthorityIs pl~rasedin ritual rather than in secular terms and is not concentrated in any si~lgfeposition. There is r?tocentral authority for the Hopi as a whole. . . . Within each ma,jor viflage there is a hereditary group of priests or cl~iefsbut the order of this hierarclry varies from village to village, and they have a minimum of secular authority (1950: 106).

The key words here are ""rtrral" '""secular" i'p"priests" m d ""eiefs's":Titiev (1944: 59) has remarked that the loose usage of ""priests" m d ""c;iefsmb r E-loyi officials has renclered the terms meaningless. But the problems, X feel, go deeper still. They derive from a fundamental disjunction in the epistemological fields of Wstern thought, b e ~ e e n""poiidcs" m d ""r1igion" Anthrcrpolo~stshave t-eflected this Qisjunction-implicitly and explicitly-in their analysis of non-Western societies, identieing and dkiding social action accc3rdingly. Ilecentfy, the division may have begun to dissipate (cf. Fardctn 1985a), but conventional anthropological 1cncowIedge af cultures constructed via earlier ethnography continues to reflect it. The disjuncticln is particularly apparent in the treatment of ""p>werB-a "protean lexeme" as K, N. Adams has it (1977: xiri)-which, though intrinsicafly arnbiguous and mufti-referential, is a central concept in bath fields, ""E"ofitical? i.e. secular, power concerns relationships of controf within and between social groups, and tends to be ultimately reducibie to control of material production""srategtc resources'"e.g. Colzen 1970; Fried 1967; K. N. Adams 1977). Structures of political power are, then, empirical-somehc~w solid, measurable, and susceptible ta anaiytlcaf scrutiny: they conktrm to ""our" mnceyts of rational activity. "Religious" p w e r , a n the otl~erhand, concerns conceptions ancl experience of the numinc~us-power as an immanent mystical entity, inaccessible to direct analysis, "Iieligious" pactices must be transfipred into schemes cof"symbc11ism';

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which only affect potiticaf practice indirecdy, and are typicafly treated as devices of legitimation (e.g. [recently], Btoch 1974; 1980; Ahern 198f )-expressions rather than instruments of social action. A direct role for the ""supernatural" in the ""ylitical" is rejected by the rationalist ctdnvictions which inhere in ethnographic representations (even in those with mowedly relativist persuasions). W e n a Hopi says the Snake Dance is for rain, for example, the ethnographer is obliged trt shift frctm ""dscriptictn" to '""explanation" (cf. Parkin 1982: xiv). Of course, the Hopi do not really dance for rain because we all know this is impossible (e.g. Spiro 1966: 113). Instead they are ""dramatising3' (eminently &ilse) religio-ecological beliefs, acting out ""myths" (the dctubie-meaning still clings), "symbolising" sscial relations or sexual relations, "mcyreenting" the desirability of fertility, ideologically (i.e. with false consciousness) ""tegitimating" inequality, or what have yotz. TiVlnatexr it is they are dcring, they are not engaging in instrurnental acts: they have moved from pragmatic action to the domain rtf "meaning': which requires explanatory interpolation. Hopis, howevel; do not make parallel conceptual distinctions, Snake rituals activate immanent forces in a directly instrumental fashion: the clear aim is to produce rainfall, Of ctturse, there are symbolic dimensions in Hopi exegeses also, ancl typically these are dense with meaning, but the ritual actions are not reducible to these. The Snake and Antelope societies directly manipulate forces which, in the ctdmmunity of belief, have matter-of-Fact. existential reality, The bicameralisation of ""religion" and ""politics" in Western thought, and the derivative oppositions ""sacred-secular" '""rational-mystical" "~"natural-supernat~ ~ r aetc. l " in anthropological theory, is, X believe, the cause of canf~tsionin the interpretation of Hoyi polity-and perhaps of many other pcrlitical systems. Ritual practices cannot be potiticaf unless they are predicated on the expression of control in economic relations, a control which mt~stbe backed by forces of brute physical coerdon. Conxrsely, culturally recognised social hierarchies must be articulated upon contrctl of material resources, or the hierarchies are ephemeral, and society must be fundamentally egalitarian. This pcrses problems, hrrwexr, when the natives conceive otherwise, have clear hierarchicaf structures and relations, and act accordcriteria for discriminati~~g ingly. My question, then, is one of cultural interpretation, in Ceertz's sense (e.g. 1973): how to translate Hopi practices and Hoyi talk about their practices into terms which least violate their actuality: "Ranslation" llere, is not a simple recasting of otherskay of putting things in terms of our own wdys of putting them . . .btlt displaying the logic of their ways uf putting them in the locutions of ours (Geertz 1983: f 0).

Two Caveats f shall ccrnfine my discussion largely to Hopi society at Third Mesa, especially in Oraibi around the turn of the centuv Considerable differences in social structure exist b e ~ e e nthe villages of the three Mesas. Xt seems evident-and this accords

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with oral history from aft three Mesas-that Oraibi had for a iong time a considerably more complex political structilre tl-tan the other villages. Throughout the written historical record Oraibi (the only Third Mesa village until the present century) is consistently described as the largest t-lopi village from Espejo's visit of X583 on; in 1900 it accounted for roughly half the entire Hopi population. Sucl-t size entailed a much larger contingent of matrilineal descent groups (see Mdhiteley 1985; 1986), some of which maintained strict control of ritual sodalities and their associated ceremonies, In other vafages, such control lzas been less strict and has in several instanGes circulated amrrng different kin groups (cf. Eggan 1950: 105), entailing significantly greater Auidity of politicaii structure than at Oraibt, This article is primarily concerneel with political action defined in Hoyi society as the prerogative of males. Elsewhere (miteley in press) I have argued that the sexual division of labour gives women greater control of economic resources, while mafe control is largely based in ritual. Women own houses and the products of: agricultural labour, ancl they take a large part in redistribution processes, Xn many ways, the organisation of the economy is centred in the household and is under the control ofwrnen, A more complete analysis ofthe entire field of Hoyi powel; authority and influence slzould inclrrde the exercise of:female control over production. This is beyond my scope here, howewr, which is limited to a pofidccd-ritual arena articufated atmost entirely by Wopi men, but which is clearly acknowledged in the daily practices of:both sexes.

Hapi Power: Structures and Categories Several recent accounts of Wopi status ranking have appeared (Nagata n.d,; Upham 1988; mitefey 1983) and E, BrancZt (1985) has conclucted a pan-Pueblo analysis of hierarclzy, Here, X want merely to examine some central principles of Hopi stratification. The cardinal division is between pavansinv?~and sukavungsinom. Sinam means "persons" or ""pople.'Tavun lzas a bmad semantic field, but in this context may be rendered as ""most powerful" or ""most important'Hc3pi consultants have offered semantic and morphologicaf breakdowns for sukavung; but these are in doubt and X think it best ta work with the English glosses Hoyis usually givc for sukavurzg~iuom,viz. "grass-r~)otspeople" '""common people? Correfatkly, pavarzsi~romis usually glossed ""ruling people': References to this general ""cfass" "vision, a common term in Hopi-Englislz, are extremely few in the literature, although it is a matter of everyday Hopi discourse and seems to have clear paratIels in other Pueblo societies (e.g. 'Iiewi "Made" and ""Dry Food" people [Qrtiz 19691, Zuni ritually ""valuable" and ""poor" ".g. Tedlock 19'79: 5061, and Keres ""cooked" and ""rw" people [e.g. White 1935: 14'7-81). For Hapi, Nagata assigns the following passage to a fc~omote: lfuvan rneaIls force, stre~lgtll,and perhaps superaatural power f\ioegciin and TSaegeiin 1957: C4.4), and pul/artsivorn Is contrasted to shikubunsirzom or "ordinary

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people': The forxner refers to the clans atvning ceremonies or members of such secret societies as Momclzit. T11e people usillg poaku or witchcraft are also called parrr~nsirznm and notv the Tribal Cosxncil is so called because of its potver, One i~rfomant noted that the parrr~nsinomter~dedto marry each other for fear of clan secrets being stole11 by nonimportant people (Nagata 1970: 44 a. 2).

Similarly, R. Brandt notes this division (although he has a different term for pavunsinom), and provides further detail: The Hopi speak of thernsefves as a ""eass" "society: The Lariguage colltains terms mark~ ~ the title or ing traditional stratifications: mongsz'nam,~mea~ling"people w h have dignity of chiefs", and sukauvtlwtgs sirzourr, mealling ""cmmon people" If a Hopi is asked to wliich cfass a given individuaj belongs, lie will give a defi~riteanswer, depending upon tl-tetraditional tribal offices held by him or his fa~nilyor his clan conrxections with persons I~ofdingsucl~offices. (These offices almost always have some reIation to the cerernolliai system; individuals holding certain offices are usually at the same time vested with ownership of certain cerefnonies and have the right to decide if and wliea their cerernony is performed.) . . . Members of the upper classes have prestige in the sense that the lower classes look up to them as "Hue bloods" associated with the tribal Ieadership f Bra~ldt1954: 23-4).

Atthough Hr-tpiscan and do identi+ individuals who are pavarzsi~romon a regular basis, criteria for occupancy of this category are more complex than the above quotations imply. While there is a sense in which all members of tlze Bear clan are pavcznsirzorn in campariscsn, say, to the Sun clan, the same distinctions can also be made within the Bear clan, So, those members of the Bear clan in the core lineage segment which provides the Kiklnot-~gwi,or Village Chief>owns the Soyulang-tv (Winter Solstice) ceremrrny and provides the officers for it, are the pus ('real') )avarzsi~romMrithin the Bear clan. Other members of the Bear clan may be regarded, from this perspective, as sukavz-lrzg.sinorn, 'Ic-t enlarge sufficiently the definitions of pavcznsinorn quoted, and to explain the recognition of intra-clan distincdons, we must accommodate Hopi conceptions of power. P~vansinommerit. srrcfl a designation not simply by occupation of institutionaf offices, but becatzse of the supernaturaf pcrwer these offices entail. Pavarrsinom are primarily tllose members of the core segments of matrilineages who hold principal offices in the ritual order: their autlzority rests in the conduct of cycficaf ceremonies and is repeatedly re-asserted in myth and ritual performance. The ceremony is the cornerstone of a clan's saison 82tre; it records clan myth and history, and dramaticafly delineates tlze coXIective identity of its members. But rather than the clan as a whole, the sore fineage segment is the actual owning bctdy of the ceremony and, reflexively, head of the clan (cf. Lowie 1929: 330; Parsons 1933: 23; Titiev 1944: 46). Xt is via control of a ceremony or ritual office that the apicaf clan segment is considered puvansinom, Power accrues to them through control of the spedfic ritual knowledge required to perform the

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ceremony effectively, Non-members of apical segments and members of clans which own no ceremonies, important offices, or highly valuecl ritual knowledge generatly lack control over significant stzpernatural power and are thus

sukavungsiurom, As Nagata points out, pupwuqt (sing. puuvuqu, usually translated ""witch""),individuals who are attributed with extracrrdinary powers and often evil intentions, may also be regarded as pavansinurn, Further, a ttauhikya, a curer who works individually, may be included in this category aftlzough he is outside rlze formal ceremonial structure, His power is more achieved than ascribed, afthorzgh it may be a ~ r i b u t e dto inheritance within a kin group. Because a ttiuhikya ctbntrofs effective powers, he may be regaded wit11 respect as a purciansino and sirnultaneausly with suspicion as apowaqa (tile ambiguity is considered below). Others who routinely manifest exceptional abilities (often considered as adhering to particular lines of descent) to manipulate the wtbrld's ctbndftions, such as in the raisisig of particuiar cultigens, may be referred to as puvu~zsinvm(andlor p o p w q t ) also. In sum, the concept pavarzsinorn is contingent tzpon conceptions of extraordinary power. The power derives from various sorts of esoteric knc3wledge, which carry a high social value. FormdIy Instituted C)%ces The Kikrrzorzgwz' was the most impcrrtant of a set of formally instituted offices at Oraibi, Titiev has detailed his functions and authority (1944: 64-5), noting a iack of coercive power ancl concluding rlzat ""the Village Chief is looked upon rather as a guide and an advisor than an executive; and as an interpreter of Hopi tradition rather than as a iegislator" C(T"ifiev1944: 65). The Kikmortgwi had various assistants, whose relationships with him were formally represented in the Soyulangw ceremony. Titiev ccrnsiders this group as the most important potitical leaders; he lists them in order of presentation during rlze Morzglava13.i 'cchiefs9alk)) at rlze close of Soyalangw: The Village Chief (kikmc>npi)of Oraibi spoke first, and was folowed in order by the head mar1 of the Parrot clan; tile Pikyas clan chiefi the Tobacco Chief {Pipm o n p i ) , normally the head of the Rabbit clan; the Crier Chief (Tca%krnc)ab~i)~ usually Leader of the Greasewood dan; and the War Chief (Gletaka) whu mity be from the Badger or Coyote clan, In eve~@ly respect these men are the most i~xportant officials in the puebio ("Firiev f 944: 59-60). X t is instructive to contrast this view with tlzat of:Yukioma, leader of: tlze Xostilevaction immediately prior to the Oraibi split of 1906, Describing the mythological emergence of mankind from the w r t d below, Yukioma lists the leaders in order as they cfimb t ~ inside p the sacred reed:

So they colxrnenced to climb up the reed, first the different chiefs, the Vitlage Chief (Kikmoabwi), whcj was also at the same time the Soyaf-mongwi, the Flute chief+

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f Lan-mongtvi), Horn chief (AI-monffuvi),Agave chief (Kwan-monffuvi),Singer chief (Tao-mor~gtvi),W~~wucl~irn chief (Kel-mongwi), Ilattiesr~akechief (Tcu-mungwi), Antelope cllief (Tciip-mor~gwi),Mararr chief (Marar~~-monbwi), Lagon chief (Lagonmongwi), and t.he Warrior chieP (Kalchtak-monpi or PGakcing).And then the people folI05ved and a great many went orrt (&eh 1905: 19).

This representation of leadership conforms with my consuftantshccctunts. The leaders, including the Kikmongwi, are referred to collectively as Wirnmornrzgtvit, heads of the ritual sodalities,' of which the Horn, Agave, Wlwtsivn, and Singers (also lcnctwn collectiwly as the Wuwl;\;inzor "Manhood Initiation" mdafities) are accorded the mast importance: in the words of one older consultant, "these fVttwtsirn societies are the Hopis"overnment." Titiev's main infctrmant on Oralhi political structure and office-holders was Tawaquqtwa (Eggan, personal. communication), the fikmortgwi, and leader of tlze ""Friendly" hctioion at tlze time Oraibi split. It is evident from Titiev's census notes (Titiev n.d.1 that Yawaquaytem played down or ignored the roles of several major adversaries. It is also possibte that my consuitants (descendants of both factions, tlzough more from the ""Hostile" "side) de-emphasised the Soyalalagw officers. But Titievk neglect of the sodality leaders is certainly tznwarranted (cf. Parscrns 1933; 53-4). They were not assistants to the Kikmorzgwi, but seem to have been independent participants in a. group of decision-makers. Each was also the head of a particular dan, as outfined above. The Kikmangwik relationship to thern seems to have been roughly primzds Z'rtter pares* For example, it is weti-lcnown that during periods of ceremantal performance (still tody), the sodality leader's authority in the village supersedes that of the Kifirnor~gwifbr the duration. Each sodafity head is ritually responsible far the proper conduct of the ceremony over whicl~he presides, and this entails cantml over particular supernattzral forces. The sodalities have distinct Eunctions in the annual cycle (see Frigout 1979, for summary details), but their ideal aims can broadty be characterised as tlze creation and re-creation. of beneficial conditions in the various dimensions of the Hopi wc>rld. The Qutetaqmavzgwz"position also warrants particular examtnatictn. Titiev describes lzis role: To the War chief m s given the duty of maintaining the discipline, and he was the nearest approach to a poiiarnan in each Hopi town, He had the right of scolding mbcreants, of hc~xingtheir ears, and, perhaps, of thrashing them. The basis of his autl~ority lay in his military leadership . . . the power of the War chief has diminisl~edtrntit his position today is endrely devc)ted to ceremonial obsemances (Tiriev 11944: 6 5 4 ) .

Titiev identifies Qoyrzngainewa of the Badl;er clan as Mdar Chief in the 18911'~~ apparently considering that the position of gal'eetagcz (guardian, ""srgeant-atarmsm")n the Soyalartgw ceremony was the same as village Qaletaq~arzgwi,It is very likely tlzat this duplication of roles was the case prior to the disputes whiclz eventuated in the sgtit. Hc>wever,Qoyangainewa" tenure of the Soyaka~agu)qateetaqa position seems to have been the result of the factionat division.

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The Qateltlqmo~tgwz"was head of the Momtsz't or "Warriors" ritual sodality, It is clear from documents of tlze 1880's and 1890's tlzat the Qaletaytnongwi position rested in the Koukclp clan (a major seat of Hostile faction leadership) and Titiev (1944: f 56) affirms that the Momtsir was owned jointly by the Kookop and Spider clans, The incumbent in the 1890's was Heevi?ma, of tlze core Kookop segment; Heevi5ima was ccrnsistently referred to as the leader of the Hostije faction in the early 189Clk (see Whiteley 1983: f 60-3). The Qateraqmarzgwi was the earthly reyresentative of PaBkong, tlze elder of tlze "War Twins': and was often assisted by a representative of Patelzpwhoya, the younger brother (Fewkes (1922), for example, describes the initial ritual stages of a declaration of war, by Oraibi Wostiles against US troops, involvit-tgbotlz the Qaletaq~nulagwianci his assistant). The historical record reveals several cases where it seems clear that the Qaletaqrrzongwi was vested with responsibility far the negotiation of political relationships with outsiders, For example, EscaXante recorded a meeting with Oraibi leaders in f "776: I seat for the caciq~~e [i.e. Kikmo~gwi]and captains to prepare them for the serrnon 1 wanted to preach to them the next day, Only the chief captain ji,e, Qlrleta-urgurrongwi] and his lieutenant or companion came, with some old men. . . . The chief captain (with obstinacry) said that he was superior to all, that the cacique would approve whatever he mig11t decide, and that if X did not state rny purpose in coming then and there they would not came to meet me again (A&arns 1963: 124-5).

The opposition b e ~ e e nKikmartgwi and Q~Eetaqsnorrgwiin the Oraibi split is a complex issue which X have discussed elsewhere (Witeley in press)." For the present I simply want to note that the ~~nderestixsnatio of the M r Chief"$role results in a skewed interpretation of the structure srf political pilwr in Oraibi. m i i e the evidence is insufficient for mnclusive proof, I believe that the seatus of Qafetaqmautgwi was complementary ta that of the Kikmongwi, with the War Clzief principally responsible for the prcrtection of the village fmm external forces. His coercive physical authoriq in illternat affairs seems to have been very limited and by no means constituted a systematic regime of discipline and prrnislzment. A useh~lanalogy to the complementary rotes of Kikrnongtvi and Qaletaqmurzgwz"may be d r a m from a number of cleremonies which have both a morrgws' and a qaleetuga fa "chief-priests' and a ""sqeant-at-arms"). X n the Snake-Antelope and Flute ceremonies, for example, the gaketaqa serves as a guardian of the participants, protecting them &om external intrusiczn or harm; the mangwi directs the performance and ensures that everytl-tinggoes well witbzirz the ceremony. Thus, tl-te Kikmongwi is to the Qr;lletaq1.rzonpi as an "inside chief" tit an ""outside chief ?' Ifn times of peace and harmony, the Kikmorrgwi's rofe is cmsiderabf-y more significant; in times of externaf stress andlor internal crisis, the Qaletaqrnorzpi assumes a prominent role, In sum, Titiev's emphasis on the Kikrrzong~tz"s direct group of supporting officers in the Sayalanp ceremony as the "most important officials in the pvreblo"" provides a partial ancl insufficient view of Hoyi political offices. The Qaletatj1.rzongz.viand the other Wimrnornrzgtvit were formally instituted ps>sitic>nsand were centrally important constituents of thepuvansinom category,

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Power, Secrecy, b ~ w f e d g eand , Truth

The primary sorzrce of power in Hoyi society lies in esoteric ritual knowledge. Initiatiorn into ritual sodalities confers power on ""Xy" members, but the greatest proportion adheres to the momngwit, chief-priests. Their knowledge of an essential core of rites is kept with strict secrec-y from lay members, whcr are taught only the general katures of the sadality" ceremony, Hopi ritual practice is highly secretive. Even older men not initiated into a particular sodality are only famifiar with its overt practices (and by all acccrunts, this is not simplfy a social fiction). Secrecy is strictly enjoined on all initiates and breaches meet with severe social and supernatural sanctions. The pattern is again parallel ta ritual secrecy among the P~zebfosin generaf: The pnesis of secrecy lies in the nature of reiigiotts societies, their ritual and potiti-

cai hnctions, and the fact that all esoteric and much secular knotvtedge is communicated through speech in the Pucblos (E. Brandt 1980: 1211-4), Secrecy serves to keep valued knowledge, in this oral culture, exclusively in the hands of an elite gmup of ritual specialists. Thwugh secrecy, knc>wledgetakes on the character of property. Material praperty is insignificant as an index of ixtequali"fy in Hogi society-the reason, X believe, for some observers?ccanclusions of egalitarianism. From a Hopi perspective, howexr, the vafued rescsurce lies not in material conditions, but in the ability tcr transform these thrcrugh supernatural sltills, Anthropologists of many persuasions have been reluctant ta grant profc~uncisocietal effects to cultural systems of value not embedded (proximately or ultimately) in material things. But control of material wealth is simply not: the measure of power in the Pueblos (cf. E, Brandt 1985). Ritual knowledge serves as the sclzeme of value, the "c~~rrency': perhaps, of ptrwer. Bunzef notes for Zuni: There are societies, like Zrrni, wl~erewealth and p w e r are kept distinct, Wealth is desirable there because it contributes to comfortable living, it gives no control over others. Power, by which is aiways meant knowledge rrituatistically acquired . . . is srrpernatural and dangerotzs /Brttnzel 19338: 3361 (quot.edin Pandey 1977: 195). In his classic anafysis of secrecy, Stmmel compares secret knowledge to prcryerty ownership ( 1950: 332) and suggests that when institutionatised, it acquires an aura of mystery and danger whicl;t constitute a gEat source of pawer for those who controt access to it. With this perspective, secret knowledge can be used, then, as a medium of social value and a calculus of social differentiatian.7 In Hopi society generally, a paradigm of secrecy articulates the sociology of kncswledge. Over the ccrurse of an individuat? life, pragressi\pe initiations and increasing experience in the ritual sodalities gradually open levels of secret kncrwledge-ratlzer like the Chinese boxes of Barth's ( 19755)analogy to Balclaman ritual knowledge. The aged are generally held to control more knowledge than the young, but the distinctions of pawnsinom and sukavungsinom continue to apply

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in the upper age range, Chief-priests tend to be the oldest functioning members of the ceremony-owning lineage segment, Since knowledge confers authority anci is acquired throtzgh progressive maturation, oM pavcznsirzorn have most authority-at least until decrepitude renders this impracticabte, Pavarzsinorn are treated with deference, respect and fear for tlzeir mastery of forces which cause changes in the state of life-forms, both human and nonhuman. They are also attributed with control ctver highly valued truth. In everyday Hopi discourse, one of tlze most disting~~ished terms for a man is ~zavotiytaqu, " m a n of knowledge" Con~rsely,an oft-heard comment is that an opinic>ndesertes nct afitentictn because its bearer is ""pas qanuvotQraqa'; '""reafly not a man of knowledge'l Nuvotiytayu is an informal designation of one with authoritative wisdom, whether this pertains to ritual, history, ecology, geography or other valtzed domains of understanding, Typically, such an individual is one whose age, status in his kin group, ceremonial posit-ion, and demonstrated ftacilities with oral tradition, denate an unimpeachable contrat of truth. Foucault elucidates the relationship betwen truth and the social order: Truth is a thing of this world: it is produced only by virtue of multiple ft3rmts of constraint. And it Induces regular effects of power. Each society has its regime of truth, its ""gneral polities" of truth . . . [includillg] the status of those who are charged with saying what currnts as true (Forrcarrlt 1980: 133).

In sum, in Hopi saciet-y socially valued lcnctwledge serves to demarcate statuses of distinction and an authority conamitant with the degree of secrecy. Secret ritual knobvledge both configures the structuring of hierarcl~yanci provides the idiom of political action. Coercion and Cansent Valued knowledge concerns the ability to influence, create or transform events in tlze world. Pavansinorn can control events in bath the natural and social environments. The Hopi tzniverse (cf. Whorf 1956) is Ear from the Wstern conception of an intentictntess arrangement of material phenomena where many events are held to occur at randarn,. Rather, it is filled wit11 intentional hrces of wl~iclz mankind is a part. Pavcznsirzorn have the knowledge to tap into these intentional farces to affect the course of events, As in many societies, suclz transformative power is ambig~~ous-chiefs can lestrcy their people (with pestilence, crop Eailure, by treacherous invitations of enemy warfare etc.), curers can kill, rain-makers can cause drought, Buvansinam are respected for their abilities but simuftaneausXy feared as potential popwac~twho may catzse great harm. The veil of secrecy implticitty lends itself to suspicion: Alrlrou@ the secret has no immediate con~~ectioti with evil, evil has an irnrnediate canrxection wit11 secrecy: the immoral hides itseif far o>bviousreasons (Sixnmel 1950: 33 1). Power itself is intrinsically neither goad nor evil from a Hoyi viewpoint: its use depends on the intentions of the user. Tl~tsexplains why puvansinorn are fre-

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quently the subjects of witchcraft suspicion. For example, a great deal of witchcraft accusation occurred during tlze time of the Oraibi split; the primary suspects were the ritual sodality leaders, who were simultaneousIy factional leaders. The authority of pavansinnm, then, is predicated on the colfectlve belief that tlzey can either benefit or destroy life. Such collective belief bespeaks a paradigm for interpreting events-of causes and effects, and of practical means to yromrrte or avoid consequences, i.e. a view of power, in which the individual, through correct. condrtct, can ensure benefits ratlzer than suffer penalties. In Hopi, this paradigm is perhaps best identified by rrlaqastutavo (literally, "fear teaching'", a fundamentai doctrine which prescribes adherence to bel-xavioural norms, Lack of adherence causes supernatural sanctions, whiclz usually involve sickness or death for the transgressclr or a close relative. In the words of an older Hopi man, ""maqasl?.utazlvois very p<>werful.It is the equivalent rrf the white man's law': The threat of sickness or death by supernatural means, and the allocaticzn of responsibility in the explanation of individual deaths, are prominent subjects of Hopi discourse. Two contemporary exampies will serve to indicate:

E x u q l e A. Over the past few years, clusters of modern dwellings have been constructed by various Government programmes in the valleys below the mesa-top villages. Frequently, there have been severe disptztes (which go far back into mythotogicallhistorica1 times) over site-ownership, who gave permission for the Government ta build, etc. Many families lzave refraineci from moving into one of these hcruses fs~rfear of public opprobrium (see Cox 1970) on the efkctiveness of Mopi gossip). Against the wishes of a senior family member, one young couple moved into such a house. Before long, the lzusband died. The senior family member allocated blame not tcr the wife, but to her mother, for allowing the daughter to make the mtrve, Naturally, in a time of family grief and with tightiy knit residential proximity, such an accusation, not in the least discordant with Hoyi beliefs, had a p<>werftlland damaging effect. Exan-zpbe B. Two men, both advanced in age, have been planting ccrrn next to each other for many years. GraduafXy, their fields have become closer and there is a continuing dispute over encroachment. The ofder man, who is initiated inta a firstorder ritual sodality, inft3rmed the yotznger that he wotzld use his wiillrzi (ritual powerlknowledge) against him. The younger, not initiated into a first-order society but a veteran of the second world war renowned for lzis vatour in dispatching ntzmerotzs of the enemy, replied that he would tzse his c~wnrrlorzg,ko (usually a staff of ctffice, but here used to denote an emblem of powet; i.e, his war ctxperience) in return. They concluded an encounter: "Alf right. We'll see who dies first': Inherent in these two examples is a communiv czf belief in supernatrxraf causes of sufferi~zgand death, thmugln means both generalised anci indirect (Example A) and perscmally controlled and direct (Example B). It is the strength of such belief, still taken as axiomatically true throughout contemycrrary Hc~pisociety, which renders maqastult;lvo more than simply an ethicat system, but an instituted mode of thnught which fosters social conformity through fear of suyernati~ralaction.

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Ccrercion and consent are centrat problems in any cttnsideratictn of potiticai power Such concepts lzave almost invariably presupposed a control of the means of physical viotence by the p<>wer-holders,and anthropologists have been tznwilling to recognise practices as political which do not rest upon such control (cf. Clastres 1977: 14). In the Hopi case, the internal use of brute force is ancl was rare. By Titievk acccrunt (quoted above), the Quletaqt.rzorzgwi's rights of corporal punishment were very lirnikd, and certain disciplinary Kachinas had the right to use yucca whips to encourage (thnuglz not brce) engagement in occasionaf cornrnunal work parties-tc> hamest the Kikmongwi"~field, cfean out springs, etc. But such isolated practices hardly constitute a regime of physical coercion. Rather, in tlze Hopi system, coercive force is transfigured into covert, mystical action. But how does this operate to produce consent to authc~rity?With what "locutions" (pace Geertz) can we intelligibly render ~zaqastutavo? In Gramscik (e.g. 1970) extended sense, ""hegemony" a n explain consent to autl~oritywithout physical coercion, "ndle'br ""dmination? Hegemony fttnctions, in these terms, as a regime of cc>nsciousnesswhich is culturally entrenched and inherent in praxis. Williams encapsulates this Gramscian sense of hegmony-disting~~ished from "Aeology" and "world-view"-superbly: It Is a whoie body of g~racticesand expectatiorzs, over the whole of jiving: our senses and assignsnents of ellergy, our shaping perceptions of ourselves and of our world. It Is a Iiveci sFtem ofvaiues+onstitrxtive and corzstituting-which as they are expericnced as practices appear as reciprocally confirmir~g.It thus constitutes a sense of reality for most people in society, a sense of absolute bemuse experienced reality beyond whicll it is very diffiffict~ltfor most members of the society to move, in most areas of their lives ( Willjams 1977: t t 0).

Seen in this light, t.rzaqastutavo is not an inert ethical doctrine, but an active cornpclnent of political praxis. The supernatural capabilities accruing to pavcznsinom are not mere superstructural symbatism, but hegemonically constitutive of tlze field of power sui ge~zeris. The ingrained notion that brute violence is a necessary condition of yc~litical power may be simply too narrow, It ignores the palpable lack of dualistic distinctions between supernaturallnatural and mentallmaterial in many societies. My point is that in a society where it is colfectivety betiexd that individuals can controt the causes of sickness, death, famine, and sa forth, through supernatural means, the boundaries drawn between ""spernatural" and ""ylittcal" p w e r dissolve into irrelevance, In the ccrmmtznity of belief, fear of witchcraft is at least as effectiw a deterrent as fear of the electric chair. Practice

The practice of power in Hopi society has legitimate and non-legitimate contexts, although the lines cannot be sharply drawn. The most legitimate context is format ceremony, correctly performed with puriv of intention (""yre hearts").

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Were, the forces controlled by the sodafity heads are ritually channelled to produce benefit for mankind ancl the world in general; rain for the crops, fertility both human and animal, and health and happiness for the peoylte. On an individual fevef, the medical practices of a tuulzikya are usually thought of as legitimate, tlzough tlzey are more subject to ambiguous interpretation. The most non-legitimate ccrntext is the maleficent exercise of power by popwuqt at secret meetings. The main location for these, P a a l a n w , is unknown, of course, except to poputpuqt, There, it is held, they meet in a kiva to plan the prolongation of their own lives at the expense of others, particularty their own relatives, and to foster ill fbr the world in general (a mirror image of the legitimate ceremonial practices of ritual sodalities). A powuqu can also practise his or lzer evil craft (access to illegitimate pawer is more sexually equal) on an individual basis, mirroring a tziuhikya3 practice. Such mirror images fc~rma set which illustrates the intrinsicalfy ambiguous nature of power and its exercise. Ceremonial contexts, especially those aspects involving secret kiva rituals, are also regarded as a primary locus of elite decision-making. This is particularly true with the First-Order societies of Wf~wtsz'm and SoyaZarzp which bring tog&ther the chief-priests of the most important societies to plan out a scheme of events for the following year, Such plans foflovv the model of secretive action: they are clandestine, conspiratorial, and hedged about with much mystery, Outside formal ceremonial contexts, they take place in private meetings under cover of night, in someone" house or in other ~crncealedquarters of the village, such as underground tunnefs,Typically, tlze protagonists arrive in stealth ancl are blanketed to obscure their identity, though they often comprise tlze Kikmulagwi ancl other Wimmornngt~it, Such planning is referred to as pasiunz" Pasiunz" implies the ""panning of Qestiny'%nd is connected with the conception that tlze life of tlze Hoyi people (ancl even of all mankind) is part of a grand design, Interpreted pc~litically,pasiurzi refers to the process of decision-making, Decisions are ritually ""saIedmin insuch a way that their plannecl consequences are inevilable: ""once something is plannecl that WV, it has to happen" ((for a more detailed account of this concept, see Whiteley in press). Pasz'uni takes its form against the background of a shared cttsmology. Plans concern not merely lzuman society*but also climate, ecology, ancl "man in nature" The planning of a bountiful harvest or, conwrsely, of adverse weather ctdnditions is, because of the effects on the life of man, a politicaf act, Such effects are ofien explainecl as the results of intentional actions by pavansinum, and may be interpreted as a reward or punishment for ccrllective behaviour. An informative analogy to Hopi pofitlcat praxis was offered by an otder consultant: Hopis are Iilce clowns and &chinas-they plot wllat" gc)illg to happen, they plan out life. This is what the chief priests do in real life as well, . . . Reme~nberIn the Hayi way cverphing is done throu* pasiulzi by the chiefs-once planned, once the wlleeb have been set in motion, the ends lzuw to occur. This is how Eloyi polities and society works.

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The analogy refers to a segment of the two-day clown ceremony, It inwives the bargaining with tl-te cl-tief of a group of: masked Wardown chief (tsukumo~zgwi) rior Kachinas, Towards the end of the first day the cl~>wnsare approached by Warrior Kachinas and warned abczut their excessive, outrageous beharsiour, The down chief tries to persuade the Warrior Kachina cl-tief (usually a Mongwu, or Great Horned Owl Kachina, the use of which may well invcrlve a ritual pun, i.e. b e ~ e e nmortgwta and marzgwi) to spare his people (i.e. his kllow cfowns) from dreadful punishment, including tlze thl-eat of death. t>uring the remainder of the ceremony, several times the down chief is seen squatting down to one side of the plaza in discussion with the Warrior Kachina chiet We is rebuked for his failure to prodrtce an improvement in the cfowns' belzaviour and so offers increasingly persuasiw blandishments to ptead mercy for the clowns, finally presenting a turquoise neckface as a sort of mortgage on their lives, During the last of the fbur negotiations espedally?the other clowns look on suspiciczusty at what they take-quite rightly-to be a conspiracy about their own destiny between their leader (whose role represents the k'zlkunorzgwi)and the Mbarrior Kachina chief. Clowns represent mankind in a pre-moral state, where basic Hopi valuesself-control in eating, decorous and respectful interpersonal relations, nonaggression, non-acquisitiveness, non-inquisitiveness, sexual modesty etc.-are overturned, reversed, and burlesqued in the typical fashion of inversionary ritual, Hopi clowns are ggluttonous, ~ ~ n c o u taggressive, h, grasping, intrusi-ve, prying, ancl obscene (and extremely funny). This is part of their yurpcrse: to stand the world on its head in order to reveal its rules and their necessity against chaos, The Warrior Kaclzinas as the ctowl-ts' adversaries represent the moralizing influence of prescrikd behavioural values, and the uphrrlding of these with severe supernatural sanctions. Eventually, the clowns are stripped, doused with gallons of water and whipped with. willow branclzes, and forced to go tlzrougl-t what amounts to a pubtic confessional, before reintegration into their everyday social identities. X n sum, the clown anatogy indicates that from a Hopi perspectiw: leaders plan tlze future of: society; pofitieaf decision-making is secret and has a cansyiratorial character; and the ritual sealing of decisions (i.e., inter aka,with the turquoise necklace) makes their realisation cosrnaXogicalfy inevitable. Further, the ceremony concretises the conscinusness of pofitieaf structure in ritual drama. Here some of the punitive supernatural devices are realised as figured entities-taken from the conscience collective and given representational shape and substancetlzeir powel; intentions, and concerns made manifest.

The Explanation of Marked Events Space does not allow an analysis of marked political events. ElseMThere (Whitefey in press) I have given an interpretation of the Oraibi split deriving from Wopi analyses. Here 1 simply wish to summarise a few points of: Hopi explanation of political process, Characteristicall)I,yHopis explain the Oraibi split with a paradigm which is imilarly applied to other major political events in Hopi history, including tlze

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demise of the villages of Awatbvi, Pivanhonkyapis Sikyatki, and Paiatkwapi, and even of the tlzird world, below the present one (cf. Mtlz 1905). Signs of corruytion and decadence, frequently indicated by immttral or antisocial behaviour, begin to be nodced by the village leaders. After admc3ni"eons to improve behaviour Fall on deaf ears, the leaders convene in secret and ritually Eormatise a plan to destrcy the social system in the village-including their (rwn leadership. Often, the plan is realised indirectly, via the deliberate manipulation of other social issues altogethex=For example, regarding the Oraibi split, the issue of enforced Government schooling, it is held, was used by pavansinorn to manipulate szkkavurrgsinom sentlnlents into such antagonistic positions that the split: was aclzieved. But the leaders? true reasons were quite different (see Whiteley in press). One consultant referred to this process as dramatising things, or "faking it" for the szlkavungsinorn, in order to foment actions prrrximatety unrelated but uftimately conducive to the leadersknds. In other instances, village ieaders persuade the leaders of other Hopi villages, or sometimes Navajo or Ute leaders, to attack their own village and kill off the male population-including themselves ("fatafism" i s a iabel often attached to Hljopi thought). In such cases, the means of plzysical violence is clearly appropriated by leadership, but indirectly and with the curious additional twist of self-immolation. In these examples, the radical abotition of the status qua is achieved, in order to promote social renascence. In a very real sense, such events are revolrttinns in Hopi history, and are interpreted not as the anarchic products of an insuscientfy integrated social syskern (as Titiev C 1944: 96-9) has suggested), but as the resuits of- Izigb-level politico-religiauf deliberation in a thoroughly. orchestrated social process. Twentieth-Century Change and krsistence As I emphasised at the beginning, the ethnographic focus of this article is Third Mesa society at the turn of the century. It will have been evident, however, from contemprrrary analogies and references, that aspects of this system still obtain. Third Mesa no longer has First and Second Order ritual sodalities, althcjugh there are still many individual initiated members, With the split of Oraibi in 1906, the basic pcrliticcr-religiws structure collapsed and was not cctmplfetely reconstituted in any of the villages founded subsequendyYAt Third Mesa it has slowly erctded as a system of government. Since the death of Tawaquaptewa in 1960, tlzere have been no Kikmnng-1.vis in the traditic~nalsense, although several individuals have laid claim to such a f "re in some villages. Similarly, the QaZet~ymautgwiand most otl~erWimmomrzgwz'r are no longer operational offices, althouglz heads of recently defunct sodafities may still be referred to by their official titles. The overlay of institutions from the dominant society has ctxtensively altered political organisation. A thorough analysis of these is beyond my presenhscope, because of their sheer complexity, both in structure and in interaction with traditional Hopi forms, Introduced institutions include: schools; a hospital; missionary cl~urches;trading postslsuyermarkets; the Bureau of Indian Affitirs Agenq;

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the Tribal Pc~liceand Cczurt; village governing bczdies-usually a "Governor" m d " h a d of Directors"-in some villages; and above all the creation of a pan-Hoyi Tribal Council (which nrw has several separate departments) as a result of the Wheeler-Howard Act of f 434. Reaction to these structures has been various. The majority are at least partially accepted nowadays and they impinge tzpon many spheres of Hopi life. Wevertheless, the Tribal Cczuncil has met with Auctuating and limited success in replacing the traditional political forms, Xt lzas been, and often still is, unable to establish a quorum, because traditional village leaders sometimes refuse tcr certiflr elected representatives (a prerogative established in the Tiibaf Constituticzn), Furtlzel; an anti-Council "Traditionalist" movement has become increasingly organised since the 1940% ((cf. Clemmer 1978; 1982). The interaction of all these forces (and others) takes different forms in different villages and among difkrent groups within the same village--hence the complexity Nevertlzefess, despite dramatic changes in Hoyi life in the present century, the community of belief and numerotzs features of the politico-religious system described above persist. As a scheme fbr the enfc~rcementof social conformity, maqustutavo is still very activc, although not perhaps so pervasively as in the past. When the Tribal Councit. was bewitched (allegedty by the Zaditionalist faction) in 1980, supposedly ""progressive" m m b e r s of the Tribal organisation rapidly evacuated the building, and a tutlhz'kya was called in to discharm tlze place. Supernaturally induced benefits and sanctions remain prominent features of Hoyi discourse. The term pavarzsz"nom continues in use and, as Nagafa points out: (above), may be applied to Tribal Council officials, There is an enduring belief in the elevated status and capacities of lineagemembers in which pclwer was traditionafly vested. It was still a significant act in 1980 for a man, frustrated with his village's modern-style governing body, to appeal to men of the Bear and Spider clans to resume their traditional mandates as societal leaders (which had not been formally operative for seventy yars). Sirnilarly, it is not uncommon for members of old puvunsinom lineage-segments to be elected to modern offices, with explicit suggestions that their suitability is sanctioned by traditionat associaticzns.

X hope to have demonstrated that there is a significant division in Hopi society into those who have power and those who do not-puvansinom and sukavungsinom, Moreover, this division includes an institutionalised authority structure where legitimate leadership rotes are inherited within matrilineage segments. Power is fundamentally equated with elite access to specialised secret knowledge which enables the bearer to induce significant transfclrma"eons in the wczrld, Ritual knowledge is the ""srategic resourcem";aterlIal entities are not the medium of power differentials, The structure of ritual leadership is simultanec>uslythe structure of political ieadership, Political action on the part of the pawnsinom is ho-

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mologous with and uftimately inseparable from ritual acdon: secretive and conspiratorial, and directed towards tlze planning of society's future. Kitual has an instrumental mode which transforms the wrtct's cconditirtns, Qercion mostfy takes a supernatural form, and consent to authoriy is based on fear of supernatural sanctions. Explanations of marked societal events identi@ deliberate execution of joint elite decisions towcfrds preconceived ends. All of which seems to indicate that the Hopi are clearly as engaged in ""potiticalmaction ancl social inequality as "wef%re. W I the ~ contradictions, then, wit11 which I began? Egalitarian? Hierarchical? "Tribalfi"?he problem, I maintain, lies not with Hopi society, but with theoredcal premisses which restrict the identification of political power to a rationalist interpretation of human mottvations, wedded to a materialist ccrnception of the means of production, and a physicalist conception of the means of ccrercion, That such premisses underlie basic Wstern nations of hrrman action is a cufturat datum, not a guarantee of self-evident truth. klitical power has been treated as a species of behaviour between independent wills rationally interacting in a free ccrmpetitive market (cf, Colson 1977: 3x1, Power is thus seen "not as an entity in itself, but as the ability to bend others to one's ends" "9 77: 376). In such conceptions, there is no notion that power can inhere in the mechanics of the cosmos, processes of socialisation, ideas of the self, or transcendent forms of experience. Such strictures lzavr impeded the ~~ncierstanding of differing political systems cross-culturally, and, in particular, of the Hopi system, If we are willing to listen, the explanations of our consultants can greatly help to construct meaningful interpretations of palitics as pructked in other societies, rather than as theoretically preconceived by formalist categories deriving originally from "European fstllctheories" "chneider 1984: f 84). l am in cttmyZete sympathy with Fredrik 1Barth"s edzortation: W should capitalize on our ullique ahantage: that our ""object of sttldy" can help us

actively to transcend our categories biy teachillg us their own. This meaIls recopizing that the actors' cc~goriesprovide a way to understand reality, ms $veld as being part of that reality, In practice, prc>bablymost OF the prodtlctivity of the anthropoiogist derives &)m this source, even tl~aughhis arrogance as a professional academic, and his defe~rslivenesswhen his olvrz reality is being threatened by the enchanted wcjrld of a~lotherculture, both militate against such learning (1981: 9-30).

Lest this approach endanger us towarcis excessive particutarism, we can balance it by expanding our basic yremisses from anotl~erdirection simultaneously, In particular, Fs>ucault extends the study of power into a much broader and deeper social field than that generally ansidered in political anthrctpology: A wllaie series of power rxemarks . . . i~zvestthe body, sexuality, the family, kinsllip, howledge, technology, and so forth. True, these networks stand in a canditianingcorzditioned relationship to a kind of ""meta-power" which Is structtrred essentially round a certain number of great prol~ibitionfuncticjns; but this meta-power with its prohibitions can orzlty take and secure Its footing where it is rsjoted i x ~a whole series

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of m~xltiipieand Indefinite power relations that srrpply the necessary basis for the great negative h r m s of power (Foucault t 980: 122). Xn itsetf the exercise of power is not violence; nor is It a consent which, implicitly, is renwabte, XI is a total structure of actions brought to bear on possible actions; it Incites, it indirces, It seduces, it makes easier or more difficult; in the extreme it constrains or fc~rhidsabsolutely; it is newrtheless always a way of actislg upon an acting sui2ject or acting sul7jects by virtue af their actitzg or being capabie of action. A set of actions upon other actions (Foucault 1982: 220)

The development of sucl~a thorougl~goingand multi-Faceted conception of the ways of pcjwer in society may allow a way out of the quagmire of categorymistakes affiicdng the intercultrrral interpretation of potiticaf systems. Notes The research on which this article is based took pIace over five years, begitaning in 1980 with a fourteen-month period of residellt fieldwork, T11e research-into the historical development of Racavi-was srrpyorted by: the Vitlage af Kacavi, Sigrna Xi, the Frieda Butler Foundation, Byron Harvey 111, John K. britson, the Weatherhead Foundaticln, and tlle University of New Mwico. An earlier version of this article was presented to the syxnposiurn "Inequality in native north America: continuity and change" held at the 45th International Cotlgress of Axnerica~listsin Bogota (1985)- I am. most gratehl to the participants, especially Shuichi Nagata, for their comments, as X am to an anonymclus reader for MJn. Travel to the Congress was facilitated by a graxit from the Axnerican Council of Learned Societies. I. This does not mean that women are by definition debarred from access to potitisallsupernatural pcwer. A recent exarnpte saw Mina Laslsa as head of the village of Qld Oraibi, Neither was this a Eunction of social change; at the turn of the century, Nasifeowi, a woman of the Piikyc1s clan, was titular head of the village of Moencopi. Female heads of the three women3 sodaiities clearly have mine access to the sort of powers disLckkorz, O~vayii2). have pre-eminent male heads. Furcussed, but all these sodalities ( M ~ r n w ther, fe~nalecurers, while not common, are well-known and still practising in the 1980%. 2.1: did not encounter this term in the field (it literally means ""cieAy people"") Recent Geldworkers at Third Mesa (S, Nagata and E. Malotk, personal communications) concur that puvansinnwz is in more general use for the opposed category to sukuvungsz'norn, Nequatewa (1936: I25 a. I ) refers to all three of these categc?riea He regards moagsl~on.~ as srl12erior to puz~~nsinn?rz. His characterisation of these two? as ""fist class'hnd ""middle class", respectively, and of sukavtlngsirzom as "low class" is, I think, oversimplified, l-tc~weves. 3. This may be a referellce to VukioinaS ally Lomahongyoma, who was put u p by the Hostiles as an alternative Khkurzoagwt to Lclolotma is1 the f 890's. Lomahctn~omawas head of the Spider cian and chief-priest of the Blue Flute ceremony. Part of his claim to be Kik~rzar~~g~nii rested on this ceremonial role, which the Eliostiles regarded as equally important ~~w (both have solstitial underpinnings). as the Bear clan's S o y ~ ~ k l ucerernoly 4, The War Cllief is mentioned last because in Hopi mythology-patticuiarfy migratiorz traditic~ns-he was atways supposed to bring up the rear, in order to protect the other leaders.

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5, The sodalities which Y~~kioma lists conform to what I 11ave elsewhere (l"385) termed First and Second Order societies. 6. Xt Is possihie that differing interpretations of the souras of and solutions for societal stress in iate nineteenth-century Qlraibi produced a confiict of roles between the Kiknroutgwz' and the Qf~Eeturjmong~.vi, whicl1 rnay have been part of the friction that led to the split. 7. The political effects of secret knc~wledgehave received i~lcreasi~lg attention in recent ethnography (e.g. Barth f 975; Lewis 1980; Mtrrphy 1%0; Krrbi~zstein1981; Keilxnan 1984; Lindstrorn 1984; Traube 1984; Fardon 11985!)). Secrecy, of course, s e ~ ~other e s social and personal functions too. Luhrmands (1986) recent analysis of middle-class 13ritish magicat cults does rnt~chto cfarie the soda1 and psychojagical cffects of secrecy in ritual practices. A full cansidexatiorl of the effects of itlstitutinnalised secrecy in Woyi society should include an examination oFtl1e sort of psychological ramif cations Luhrmann disctrsses, This, however, goes heyoncl my present scope, 8, Some Thixd Me$&people say a tunnel ran from Yukiomilis horxse to Looioima's (the factional Ieaders in 1900); there they w u l d meet to jointly plan ewnts connected with the Qtaibi split. This may be an idealisation, atrhorxgh tunnels are wll-knotun in Puebioan archeological sites.

References Adarns, E. N. 11 963. Fray Silvestre and the obstinate Hopi, New Mex. hhl'st.Rev, 28,97-1138. Aclarns, ft. W. 1977. Power in huxnall societies: a synthesis. In The ant/~rf~pnhogy ofpo~ver (eds) K. U. Fogclson & K. N. Adarns. New York: Academic Press. 13hern, E. M, 1981. Chinese rittlul latzcirpohitics,Cambridge: tinitd. Press. Karth, F. 1975, Ritual ulzcl X-lznwledgeumorzg tlze Rgkturnuuz tllfNew Guitze~i.New Haven: )"ale Univ. Press. Process undfi~rmz'ta svckl l*. Lurzdon: Rorxtledge and Kegan Paul. Bellman, N. L, 11984. The Iangutzge cfsecrey: symbols und metm~j~hors in Pore ritual, New Kru nswick: Rutgers Un iv, Press. Nloch, M. 1974. Symbols, song, dance and features of articulation: is religion an extreme form of traditional authority? Ear. J. Social, 15,55-8 1. 1980. Ritual symbolism and the non-representation of society In Symbol us sense: new c~pj>muches to the anuljfsr'scfmeauzing (eds) M, L. Foster 8: S. W. Rrandes. New York: Academic Press. 13ratldt, E. 1980. Qn secrecy and the control of knowledge: Taos Pueblo. Xri Secrecy: a crossczlltzrrral perspecii~)e(ed.) S , K. TefTt. New X1rk Hurnar~Sciences Press. 1985. Internal stratification in Vueblo communities, Payer presented at the annual rneetifzgs of the America11Anthropological Association ( 19885). Nrandt, K. 1954, HOJJ~ ethics: a r-lzet-treticulunatysk, Chicago: Univ; Press. 13unzel, R, t 938. The econornic orga~~izatioll of primitive peoples, In C;enemb uuztfiropologjf (ed.) F. Boas. New York: Heath. Clastres, P. 1977. Sociep against the stcilte. NW York: Urizerl Books. Clemmer, R. Q. 1978, Continuities offEnf~2 e'zllttare cJ712r~ge.Ramona, Cal: Acoma Rooks. 19882, The Hopi Traditionalist movement. Paper presented at the School of American Researcl1 Advanced Semi~~ar on ""The Hopi Indians" "982). Cohen, A. 11970. The politicat system. III A harzdha~kr_?f method in ccilturu2 arzt?.zrtlpoE~)gy feds) R. Narrc>lf& R. Cohen. Garden City: Natural History Press.

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Coison, E. 1977, Power at large: meditation orz the ""Symposium orz Pcjwer" 11%Tke unthmpollogjf ofpo~ver(eds) 1%.D. Fogeisoiztk El. N. Adams. New York: Acadernie Press. COX,R. 1970. What is Hopi gossip ahorrt? Xnforxnatiorz management and Hapi factiorzs. Mczn (N.S.) 5,88-98. Eggan, F. F:1850, SockE orgbtrzizlxiion of tile We5tern PuebEos. Chicago: tlrtiv, Press, 11364. Allia~lceand descent in a Western Yuebk~society. In Process und puttern in c21lt21re (ed.) R. A. Manners. Chicago: Aldiine, Fardon, K. 1985~.Introduction: a sense of relevance, In 1""owerand knawkllge: nrzf/zroj>ologL (ed.) K. Fardon. Edinbt~rgh:Scottish Academic, ictd at~dS O C ~ O ~ O ~ ~ C U(dpj>roaclt(r~ and 1985h. Secrecy and sociabili~:two problems of Gllarnba knowledge. Irz l3{>wer knowleclget arzti'zmpologicul arzd sociodogical apl~ro~~clzes (ed,) R. Fardon. Edinburgh: Scottish Academic, Fewkes. J, W. 19222. Oraibi in 1890. Xri Contributions to Ilopi history (ed,) E, C. Parsons.Am, Ar~tizrop.24, 253-98. Foucault, M. 1980. Truth and pc>wes.In Power/knt~wlelge(@d.)6.Gordon, New York: ~ I I theon, 1982. The subject and power. In Mlchel Firucnuft: beyf7rzd structtkrt~lismand hermerreuric~(eds) W . Dreyfus t3r: P, Elahinow, Chicago: Unik: Press. society. New k r k : Random House, Fried, M. 1967. IIRe evolzdtion ~_?fp~EZtical Frigout, A, 1979, Hopi ceremonial urganization, In %I~~rtdhoi~k qfNorth Alraerican Indians, 5/01. 9, The Sozath~ltestfed.) A. Ortiz. Wasllington: tlS Government Prirzting Oflice, Geerlz, C. 1973. The irtterpretf~tioncfculrures. New Yo~rk:Basic Rooks. 19883. Local krrozvlebige. New k r k : Rasic Books. Gramsci, A. 1970. Selections frt~mthe prison rzorehooks (eds) Q. Hoare & C. N. Smith. New k r k : International Publishers. I-larnmc>ad,G. P.& A. Key (eds) 1966, The rediscowry 0fNel.v Mexicr?, 1580-1594. A1b1.lquerclue: tiniv, of Mew Mexico Press. B. f 972, An overview of Yueblo religion, In Newperspecfiveson the Puebfos (ed.) A. I-la~~e): Ortiz, AIbucluerque: Univ. of New Mexico Press. Hieb, L. 1979. Hopi world view. XII flandhook ofNorti2 Awzericun J P Z ~ ~ I I ~01.9, I ~ S , The ,";nut12west (ed.) A, Qrtiz, Mshington: US Governxnent Printing Office, Lewlten, 7: 1983. PoEiricluE unlhrqaEogy: art introduction, South Hadle); M A : Rergirz & Garvey Lewis, G, 1980, ilky ofslititzirzg red. Cambridge: Univ, Press. Lindstsom, L, 1984. Doctor, lawyer, wise man, priest: big-men and knowledge in Melanesia. i;2/1~in(N.S,) X9,2"3-309. Pup. Am. hilus. rzml, Hisl. 30,303-40. Lowie, K. E-I. 1929. Notes on Hopi clans. Antkzr(~/~, hhrmann, T, M, 19886, The magic of secrecy, Manuscript, Muxphy, W. P. 1980. Secret knowledge as property and power In Kpelle society: elders versus youth. Africa 50, 193--2I)7. Nagata, S. 1970,Mobfern trarzsformulions afMoertkopi VuebEo,tlrhana: Univ. of IIlinois Press, n.d. Factionalism or status competition? Some observations o a Hopi status hierarclzy Manrrscriyt. ILioj~t,Flagstaff: Nortfib~ld. Neqttatewa, E. 11336. Ikuth world: spf~ce,time, bez'lzg, and becoming in a Plleblo sclciet3f. Ortiz, A. 1969. The T~IVC.I Chicago: IJniv; Press. Pandey, T: N.1977. Xrnages of power in a Southwestertl: Pueblo. In The auzt!zrqi,ology of lm1ver (eds) K. Fogelson Ik R. Adams. New k r k : Academic Press,

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Parkin, X). 1982, Introduction. In Semizrztic urzrhroi?alog:yfed.) D. Parkin. London: Academic Press. Parsorzs, E. C. 1933. FIof~i~rzdZuni ceremanklislrz {Am.anthrclp, Ass. Mem, 39). Menasha: American Ax~thropologicalAssociation, Kubirzstein, K. 1981. Kx~o%vfe&ge and political process on Malo. 1x1 Vanuutu: pnlz'tlcs, gonornics arzcl n^ttinl Z^M &land Melarzesia (ed.) M. ALLen. Sydney: Academic Press. Schrxeider, D, M. 1984. A critique of the stably of kmskrij~.Ann Arbor: Univ. of Michigan Press. SimmeI, G. 19550, The secret and the secret society: In The sociololty lfC;eurg Simmel (ed.) K, Wolff. New York: Free Press. Spiro, M. 1966. ltdigiorz: probtelxs of defixrition and explanation. In Ant/~rtapohogictzlapproaclites ttlze stxbly ofreEigior~(ed.) M. Banton, London: Tavistock. Tedlock, D. 1979. Zuni reiiginxr and world view. Xri %I~tt"~dbortk ofN0rt.k Arrrerictrn Indians, voE. 9, The Southwest fed.) A. Oxtiz. Wasl~irrgton:US Government Prirztitzg Office, Titiev, M. 1944. Old Ortnl'i?i:a sttr~1y($the f$(?j~l^ Inrzdz't~nsc$ilVf/lirdMeslor (fial3sdy Mus. Am. Arcl~aeol,Ethnot. h p , 221 ). Carnhridge, Mass.: Rabody Museum, n,d. Census notes from Old Oraibi. Manuscript. Cambridge, Mass.: kabody Mtiseum. Trauhe, E. 1984. A~tthoritativehowledge in an East Timorese society Payer presented at the annual meeting of the American Anthropological Associatiors (1984). Upl~am,S, 1982. Politics urtd pc7Miter: u social rutd t-.conumicIzktory of fize Western PmebEo, New York: Academic Press, TSaegelin, C. & ;F: Wegelin 1957. FItjpi domuins: a lexical (tj~~~rnach to .he prohknz ofseleciion (International Journal of American Lill~isticsMemc>irs14). TSath, H , R, 1905. The ~razrllitkonsof;theZIopi (Fieid Coiumbian Mus, Pubi. 96, Anthropological series 8). m i t e , L. A. 1935. The hehlu ofSanto D~ourrirrgn,IV~W MmI'cl?(Mexn, Am, anrihroy. Ass. 43). Menasha: American Anthropologicat Asstlciation, Whiteley, B. M. 1983. Third Mesa Hogi social structural dynamics and socioct~lturai cl~ange:the view from Racavi. Thesis, Univ. of New Mexico. Hopi ""cans'? another vintage model our of Africa? I. muzthrop. 1985. U~~packing X ~ S 41 . 359-74. 1986. Unpacking I-lopi clans, 11: finrther questions about I-loyi descent groups. I. urtlizrop. Res. 42,69-79, in press. Deliberate acts: dzanging cu2fu;l-ein a fIopl^commtdnily T11c;~on:Univ, of Arizoila Press. Wrhorf, B, L. 1956. Larzgziuge, t h a q h f arzcl rmlity (ed.) J.N. Carroll, Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, Wiilliams, K. 1977, 4Warxisrnurzd literature, Oxford: Univ. Press, Winship, G. 1896, The C:omnudo exj~edition,1340-1542 (f3ureau of Americaxi Ethnology Annrxai Report, 14).

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PART FIVE Changes and Continuities

SAME: the French saying has it, and sctme wcruld argue that the saying pertains more ttr religion than it does to any other instituticrn. Perhay s, But maybe one cc~ufdargue the reverse about religion: The more eternal and central to people" lives it remains, the mare it is really undergoing major transformations. This contradiction reflects at Xcast two underlying issues, two probferns deriving from what are often unchallenged assumptions about the nature rrf culture and the nature of religion. First, there is the tendency to use the word ""r-aditional" to classi.f"y societies other than those found in the compltex, technological states of Europe, the Americas, East Asia, and South Asia, Quite often, ""taditionat" serves to do little mare than replace such equally imprecise terms as ""peliterate," "nonliterate:" "tribal," and ""simpleB-all of which in turn came into schrrlarly parlana to replace the term ""primitive" (as against ""cvitized,'~itke""us"-whoever "we" are), One erroneous itnplication of: this continuing word game is that there are realty only two types of: societies: one technologically advanced and capable of even more change, the other supposedly both technotcrgicatty undeveloped and in general resistant to new ideas ancl new ways. There is also a widespread assumption that the very keepcr and rrlaintainer of tradition, the massiw bulwark protecting the old ways and excluding innovation everywhere, but obviously most particularly in traditional societies, is religion, But what if both these assumptions are suspect, if not indeed false? In other words, what if uZt sctcieties, whether populous and technofogicallyadvanced or ncrt, are equally amenable (and equally resis~ant)ta change-or wl~atif the fdctors tl~at ccrntribute to advancing or ccrntesting tradition have littte to dcr with the presence of industrialization, nuclear capabili~,literacy$state bureaucracies, and such! And what if religion-everywl~ere the accepted repository of tradition and the supposed enemy of new ideas and new ways-is alst:, (and e x r v h e r e ) a major engine of change and adaytaticrn to new ideas and new ways!

T H E M O R E I T C H A N G E S , T H E M O R E I T R E M A I N S I.HE

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Chaflenging assumptions is atways an uncomfortabte and even painfu'uf experience, which may help to explain the unusual emphasis on the ""prsanaf" in many of the chapters in this part and in the literature on change and continuity in religion in general. If you, the anthropological. observer; do not yourself ""believe:" how can p u appreciate why anci how the clzanges you observe are taking place? Why assume so swiftly that tl~osewho convert-who accept a ""new religious e again" Christians cult'3n Europe or a ""cargo cult" in Melanesia or b e a ~ m ""born in the United States or "Rastafarians" in West Africa-are actually "psychcologicalfy disturbed" or ""sociologicafly deprived" or ""potiticafly motivated" or simply ignorant or weak-minded? (See Beckford f 9 8 h n d Klass 1995 for critiques of such interpretaticons.) Is it at ieast not a possible hypothesis that they are simply honest seekers after ""trutlz'? Might tlzey not, each in a different wdyyhave fot1nc2 an ideological universe wherein they can f-tnd peace anci meanit~ganci purpose and joy beyond anythitlg known to the observer? And if so, how is tlze poor observer to penetrate the event and report on it? And then, of course, there are other questions. What dcres "&bangem"tail when W are spealcing of "~eligion""?at is ""continuity"? Are we talking about changes and continuities in rituals or in communal festivals and activities-or in fundamental beliefs abcout the nature of the universe, about purpose in human affairs, about morality anci sin and meaning? In other words, is it possible for members of a given society to turn away from the divinities anci the ceremonies of their past and accept new gods and new ways of wt3rship-and yet, under it all, ccrntinue to betiex in the same explanations of existence and causality? Much in anthropology and sociology has been written about "nativism""the desire to return to the old way of life) and its sister ""rvitaliz,ation" (the effort to reinvigorate a supposedly pass6 belief system) in societies other than our cown, but a glance at our very own experiences with them may illuminate how complex these issues can become, Some ftinctamentalists in the United Stales or elsewhere in the West may say sii~cereIythat they want to lead a return to '"hat old-time religion,"" btzt wc3uld they really want it as it redly w s ? Hcow many fundamentalist Jews whco dream of a rebuilt Temple in Jerusalem really want tcr resume daily animal sacrifice! How many fundamentalist Christians who want to ""put Christ back in Christmas" are really prepared to eliminate Santa Claus and Christmas trees? "lieturning to the past" is always, inevitably, approached through roadblocks set up in the present. Or as Laurel Kendall. says in her analysis of the it~teryretatian of Confucianism in present-day weddings in Korea, "We must cast one eye backwdrd while fixing tlze otlzer on a sllifting horizon h r an appreciation of how the past has been selectively interpreted, and reinterpreted, to explain a present and give shape to a vision of the future" (1996: 53). Many rrf these questions have been totzched on in the previous parts (but then all efforts to separate issrres in religion, to set up categories, are, as we have noted, arbitrary and inevitably subject to dispute); in this part, however*a primary fcocus is on response.

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Imagine that you have been born on an island in Melanesia: Strangers have been coming to your home from otver the sea, even from the air, and are displacing you in your own land, treating you as inferior because they have guns and planes ancl refrigerators ancl you have none, ancl they sneer at everything you ancl your people believe, Visu are lzelplcss: How do you respond? Or imagine that you are a contemporary Havasupai, or a native Australian, or an unemployed urban-dwelling W s t African: What attractions cotzld a Jamaican-derived religion advocating pot-smoking and the divinity of Haile Selassie, the late Emperor of Ethiopia, possibiy have f'or you? You are a college-educated young American completing a graduate prcrgram? What is there about fundamentalist Christianiw that draws you or some of your friencls? In your response, in any of the above situations or in similar ones, do you ret ject in its entirety what you have always believecl? Can you accept t l ~ a whiclz hitherto has been unknown or inconceivable to yot27 If not, then what alternatives are available to you? How are what seem to be your personal decisions in fact derived from, or embedded in, the larger socioreligious matrix of your society, your generation, your gender? These are personal questions, but they are atso subject to scholarly investigathough reflecting personal involvement tion. The writings of tlzese contrib~~tors, with research and experience, fc3cus particularly on the meaning of religious movements to those who participate in them and also draw attentic~nto some comparative analytic issues of which the participants may or may not be awareor, it might be added, which might be ccrnsidered irrelevant by the practitioners or foClowers of a particular religious movement. "Cargo cults" have been obsemd and written abcrut for more than 150 years; documented in many different contact situadtrns, they have been most often associated in the anthropological literatt~rcwith Melanesia (see, for example, Wc~rsley 1968). Commonly; these movements ehibit. such beliefs as that the world is about tcr end as a result of some cataclysmic event and that the subsequent return tcr earth of an omnipotent fipre will usher in an age of abundance of cargcj or imported goods, as well as eternal health and well-being for ft~llowers.Benny Giay and Tan A, Godschalk document the contemporary flourishing of similar movements among indigenctus people throughout Irian Jaya, which the authors suggest are a response not ta canfad or cotontalism, as in the first documented cases in Melanesia, but to exploitation by the government of Indonesia and its Fa4'txre to distribute the benefits and rewards of industridization ancl development. Worstey suggested that diffusion-the spread of the very idea of cargo cults from community to community or even island to isfand-played a significant role in the profuse distrihtion of the phenomenon; Neil J. Savishinsky cites the gtobat interconnected~~ess of modern media and contemporary popular music to account for the rapid spread of Rastal"arianism and reggae music thrcrughout the Caribbean, North America, Europe, and Africa,

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The issue of the success or spread of new movements is pursued in other chapters. Benton fcslznson argues, in his cornparathe study of b u r cantemporary religious mc>vements,that the success of new religiorzs mclvements will derive in part from the personality of i t s founderlleader and reflect his or her ability to respond rapidly to changes in the size ancl complexity of the resulting organization, as well as to the needs of foffawrs. Susan E Harding explores the success of American Baptist fundamentalists in converting ""barn again" hllowers, which she attributes largely to the power of the rhetoric and language tl-tat ministers and canwrted followers employ. She suggests that the tendency of social scientists to distance themselves frc~mthe profoundly emotional ctxperience of conversion has resulted in an it~compfeteunderstanding of tlzis religious phenomenon, Althcrrzgh rituals of conversion have been observed and rect~rded,Harding argues, "W must listen, tcw, and we must explore the consequences of listening.'" This part documents religious change and continuity in so many different geographical ancl cufturaf settings that drllvving c.onclusions to link tlzis diversity is nearly impossible. Ijerhaps one change that is concrete and recognizable is that as the mentieth century comes to a close, all of the new religious movements described in this part ancl tlzrouglzout this book are to be found within modern nation-states. All of them must interface, on some levet, either explicitly or implicitly, with the rules, regula"eons, legislations, politics, and bureaucracies of the states within which they operate. They must all attract followers from multietlznic and mtzftireligious envircrnments, and so they must appeal to some ccrmmtrn or shared goal, desire, fear, or self-interest. And on some level, all these mc~vements are also involvecl in the transnational Row of: ideas instantly cammunicated glc-tballyby international media and ccrmyuterized technologies. One certainty is that in the reaims of religious ideotogy and identity there can be no cl-tangewithout continuity>no continuity without change. References Neckford, James 11387 ""New Religions: An Ovelview.'' In Il'hr?E~cj~cIoj~edia of Religitm, vc~I. 10, M,M. Eliade, New k r k : Macmillan, 390-394, Keadall, Laurel 1996 Cklfing1Mun-ied in K(>reu:f)f Cknder, MornIz'f3und Mc~dernity,Berkeley: University of Califorxzia Press, Klass, Morton 11 395 Orderell Universes:A~>j>m~ches :so :sheArz dz r(~j>ology t?fReligion,Bo-ctlder, Colo.: Fliestview Press. Wri,rslcy; Peter 1968 jlke 7iunzj>etShcrll Sound: R Study l$" ''(:tlrgo" Culls in hiltlarzesia. 2d augmented ed. NW York: Schocken Books.

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Benny Giuy and Jan A. Godschalk

Xt appears that many people in Xrian Jaya today are protesting against the manner in which they are, as they perceive it, being denied fundamental htzman rights, guarantees of social interaction based on ftairness, and a reasonable share of economic benefits secured through qevelopment",nd are searchixzg for something that goes beyond this: a world in which they will enjoy health and a life of youthfulness; in wl-rich they will live with one another in peace and happiness, ancl have access to wealth witl~outlimit. In tlze past decade the number of kargo" mclvements has increased considerably and growing clouds of cargoism are spreadi~zgover the territory. Xn this essay we present data a n activities from four areas in frian Jaya. In the brief discussion that follc>wsand in which we focus primarily on causal factors, we venture the thesis that in all tlzese cases we have to do with (new) religious movements. The recurring combination of expectations based on traditional religious beliefs with feelings of potltical and economic discrimination may result in explosi-ve situations. There will be little reason to assume that cargoism will decrease significantly. -Autfror"sAbstract

Introduction

Toclay cargoism is all-pervasive, even rampant, in Irian Jaya. Throughout the prc>vincemotPements have broken out, and are ccrntinuing, on a scale that is without precedent, except perhaps for the World War XI period, A survey of- salvation movements in Irian faya from tlze middle of the 19th century until the tate 19'70s was presented by Codschalk (1983) at a Seminar on MeXaneslan Movements, llefd in Pyramid, lrian Jaya in 1980, It incorporated, but also augmented, an earlier overview by Kamma ( 1 972:283-298). The original

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Bertrty C;icry and .fan A. Chdschmbk

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history of movements in Xrtan j a p in Strelan (1977:14-15, 21-22> 28-29) was completely rewritten in Strelan anci Godscl~alk(1989) anci updated to 1988; this study; however, is in Indonesian and is, therefore, less accessible. In this paper W present data that are even more contemporary. We wish to limit ourselves to activities reported from four areas in lrian Jay&; they seem to represent a bewildering variety of responses to outside influences, The Eorrr groups are the Me, Western Dani, EZrrgla, and Dr. Wainggai with his EoItowers. After a brief descriptive account of the relevant events, we wiH lr70k into some of the factors that cause the movements to surface.

Cargo Movements h a n g the Me The idea behind the movements among tlze Me i s the same, bat tlze cargoistic aspirations in the Vaniai region have centered upon three different terminologies or concepts over the last 25 years. They are: Pabrik (from 1964 onwards), Allam (from 1983) and Ball4 delinztl ( 198Wo the present).

The word pubrik means Tactory' in Indonesian and is derived from tlze flutch wordfabriek. But according to the Me the idea of pabrik is refated to a spirit being who is believed to hoXd or to be the source of all Wstern goods. With the help of tlzis supernatural being the Me peaple can lzave access to Western goods without working for them or being invt31ved in the mantzfacturing process. The first Me leader who came up with this idea was Paulus Tebay, born in the village of Okaitadi on the west shore of Lake Paniat. Vaulrts was a man lziglzly respected throtzghout the k n i a i region, because he was one of only about ten Me students who had graduated from the Teachersyraining School in Serui fYapen Island). After his return to tlze lzighlancls he eventually became a scl~oolteacher in Emaibc>,Early in 1964, he claimed that he had discc~veredthe key to unlock the gate of the pabrik that woufd give access to the Western goods stored inside the Kiuto hill on the west shore of: Pdniai take. How had he found this key? A few days before his death, his father Yimouywi Yebay, while in a state of ecstasy, had told his son that he woufd receive seven keys. He had said to him, '1 will give you krtlzer information tater, after I die. Be strong, even if you are suffering and starving ~ C I W One day yotz will be free from all this misery and bitterness of life," A week after lzis father had died, Vaufus found a seven-tailed python; he kllcci it and kept its tails in a wooden box. The foll(,-cving night a beautit-uf white lady, catted Nabas2 by Vaulrts, appeared to lzirn in a dream; she was tall and lzad long hair. She instructed Vaulus to go to his Father's grave, He did this and f-ound the key under a mwaya tree. He inserted it into his father" hip which was already rotting, Suddenly, there was an earthquake and the door to the undernorid opened.

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Paufus entered the gate and there he met his father, who had become a young man. He saw all the riches of tlze Western world: abundant fcmd supplies, clothing, cars, airytanes, hotels, restaurants, huge stores, paved streets, etc. He walked around and also saw some of his relatives who had died long ago, but now had become young men and women. Then lze was directed to return to the land of the living, But befbre k u l u s left this place, Nabai instructed him to slaughter a number of pigs and sacrifice them to her; certain parts should be presented to her. Sl~ein turn would release tlze goods. Paulus returned to his village and told the people that he had disa3vered the pahrz'k under the Kirrto hill. We said that if they sacrificed their pigs and presented tlze heads to Nabai, she would release the riclzes, anci the Me people (ancl lrian Taya people as a whole) wc~uldbe flooded with western made goods which until now had been enjc~yedoniy by the Australians, Europeans and Americans: W e will be like the Westerners: T11e people responcied by bringing Paulus pigs anci cllickens to be sacrificed to Wabai; those who did not have pigs brought money so he could buy pigs. At first the contributions came primarily from his immediate relatives. The expectation behind the response was that, if N&ai released the goods and Irian Jayi became an independent state, they would receive a share of the goods or a pclsition in the new government, Pdulcrs and his fc~llowersheld pig feasts every month to meet the demands of Wabai and cause her to release the goods; but Nabai was not moved, in spite of her promises to Paulus. On the contrary, she now demanded thaflaulus ltill seven tolaowi bagee (well-respected and riclz leaders), cut off tlzeir heads and bring them to her. This scared IJaulus to death. During the week that he thought the matter over, sixty people, young and otd atike, died suddenfy, Paulus insisted on pursuing the idea, and lze organized a final pig feast in Ernaibo in August 1964, to which he also invited the Head of the Paniai District. This official promised to attend the feast and later donated rice, sugar and salt, Many men and women from 6citr and wide came to Emaibo to see the goods be brought out of the Kiuto hill by Wabai, But she was not satisfied with the countless number of pigs sacrificed to her and insisted on human heads being presented to her, befc~reshe would deliver the goods, Despite the faiiure of Nabai to help Paulus deliver the yeoyte from poverty, he continued to spread his claims about the puhrz'k and occasionatly organized pig feasts. He died in 1979, without realizing his c a r p expectations. In 1966, a man from the village of Kemogepa in the Tigi District claimed to have received a kuncl (key) of a pabrik. The spirit being sponsoring him was said to supply tlze Me people with tinneci food, in the production of which this pubrik specialized. This man went on cfaiming this until f ~ l n e1967; after that his &ime dwindled. Another short-lived pabrik movement took place in the village of Madi, near Enarotali, in that same year. Then another leader arose, from Gabkebo in the Tigi District. He made simijar claims. We had been educated at a Teachersyraining School in Merauke

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and-in 1966-was my [BC) school teacher. In 1968 he went to Jayapura for further training, and got sick with (presumably cerebral) malaria. After he ran away from his dorrn, some Me strrdents had hirn sent back to the highlands. He got well some time later, but tlzen began revealing his dreams and visions, A spirit being was visiting lzitn. She had given him the key, which was a small round stone. He told the people tl-tat lze had some difficulty in t~singit to bring tlze goods out of the grotznd. This spirit being also demanded some sacrifices to be made to her, The leader organized a ntzmber of pig feasts, btzt she asked for more and more even though she failed to keep her prcrmises. Later the leader blamed the viIXage people fbr the failure, for they had built their sweet potato gardens around her dwlling, He is still teaching in a vilfage school, He has not giwn up his ideas about the pabrik ancl knows where tlze goods are. According to one of lzis close relatives (studying at tlze Cenclerawasih State University in 19146), he is trying to find the riglzt method to placate the spirit being who is just waiting for tlze right time to deliver the Me people from their poverty and backwardness, Early in 1983, another leader, a member of the IJigome clan and also from Okaitadi,' told the people that he had found a sparkling stone on the bottom of Lake Panlax, where he had been fishing, He brought the stone to a Canadian missionary wctrkitcing in the Paniai area and showed it to him."lTke missicrnary asked tlze cult leader to bring the stone over to lzis lzouse in Enarofali. There he said a prayer to confirm wl-tetlzer the stone was from Gocl. After he lzad finislzed praying, hiraculously the stone had its two eyes wide open and was looking at both of them,' This convinced them that it was God who had sent the stone to help the backward people of Irian Jaya. The missionary took the stone with hirn to Canada where he was going fbr a short furlough, urztzak dkunrik,"esc the spirit demand human sacrifices and fail to keep the promises she had made to the Me pabrik leaders. After his return from Canada tlze missionary told tlze cult leader not to remain in Enarotali, for the Me people would be jealous of him ancl lze would be killed through sorcery He left straightaway for Wamena and entered high school. But after two years he left schtrol to assemble a "cabinet" in June 1986 he told the people that with the help of the stone frlan jaya wcruld beccrme an independent state ( W s t k p u a ) by 1988, Occasionally he wouXd visit the Paniai area, When he returned there at the end of 1986, he was involved in some evangelistic trips around Lake Paniai, visiting many local churches and ordering the people to burn their traditional religious objects. He said that 'we have to cleanse (membersihkun) this region of our sins before we inaugurate pofiticaf freedom, Before we launch the Christian hofy state ) , have to keep oursetves of West h p u a ( n e g ~ r aKriskn Papmu. Barat yang s ~ i we away from old traditional practices.' But he failed to reafire his claims, because 'the spirit had rejected hirn,%t the end of 1987 he went to Nabire, a ccrastal trlwn, and became a person endowed with power to heal the slclc and to reveal the sorcerers suspected of killing many people in Nabire, His influence waned, howver, when he decided to fake anotlzer woman as his seconcl wife.

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In June 1985, a man from the village of Onagcr in the Tlgi district claimed that he had discovered the key of the pubrik, He was the son of one of rlze richest men in the Tigi district who was believed tcr be sensitive to the world of the supernatural and to have obtained his wealth with the support of Manita, a madou (water spirit). He told the people tl-tat he lzad had m encounter with a white person, who charged him tcr bring him sacrifices of pigs and chickens, after which he wc>uldreceive the key of thepabrik, where guns and airplanes were produced, The animals were contributed by mostly young people and several feasts were held, Two fenced-in houses were built on a small hill tcr store the goods. But they were ncrt delivered. In June 1986, his wife claimed to have recei~reda revelation from a spirit who manifested itself througl~seven white people, two men and five women. They were given new names. The WC)hs~useshad to be relocated and improwd, and another three had to be built in addition. Feasts were held tcr enmurage the spirits to fill the houses with guns and other goods, but the houses remained empq, Another man was invited to plead with the spirit beings. Howevex; tl-tere were toa many obs~acfes,so tl-tat the pabl-ik which was there right under the houses could not appear. The mcrvement floundered, although the cult leader and his wife conf nued to believe firmly that the promises made by the 'wl~itepeoplef would come true,

Since 1983 cargoistic activities have become kntrwn in the Mayia district, to the west 01"the WtsseX lakes. Here the ideas are known as alam f'nnatureY~zIndonesian), The idea is that there is a spirit being behind tl-tese expectations who is responsible for taking care srf atam. The first and most influential leader of this movement was told during an encounter with the spirit beil~gto build a house in the forest and offer sacrifices tl~ere.Access to the house was limited to him alone. He left lzis job as a public servant in Maanemani {Kamu district). Before he did so, he collected funds, raised through monthly donations, frcjrn Me poticemen and others working in gcwernment offices. After that he instructed tlze people not to draw drinkng water from rivers or creeks, for that water 'is aEam ka pipi {nature's urine), If you drink it, the spirit will not deliver the goods and help us gain our political freedom.' The lndonesian army considered the activities to be related to tllose of the OPlW (Organkasi P ~ p u aPuleP-deka Free Payua Organization" and suppressed the movement by taking the leader and his followers into custody. Those who were not arrested but remained supportive of the program were heavily fined in November 1989;in some cases it was demanded that pigs from focal people be handed crver. The leader of the movement was released shortly afiewards.

The leader of the Butu l-leliuna movement is a young man. A few years ago lze discowred a valuable stone (batzr,delivuza) in a small creek near the w s t shore of Lake Paniai, He presented the stone to a ltc3man Catholic priest in Enarcrtati who

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told him to keep it, After finishing junior high schoat he left fbr M e r a ~ ~ to k eenter senior lzigh school. There he met two Australians and showecl the stone to tlzem. They were surprised, because 'they too had come to search for it.' They asked him to go with them to Australia, where experts who inspected the stone said to him: You are the 154th richest man in the world.'Witlz this assurance lze came back to frian faya and went straight to fayayura in April 1989, W t h two other people (one of them his mother" brother who was a university student) he made preparations to set up a legal organization called Treeport Xndonesia Ydwdi Nota? During a meeting in Iayapura in May 1989, he told the Me leaders present that the governments of Australia, the United States, Canada, France and HollancZ had seen the butu c-leliunaand had donated 900 billion rupialz (apprcximately 450 million US doilars) to the organization, After they heard this, those who were present prepared plans for the office facilities and housing projects of Freeport Yawrrdi Nctta. A supporter w r k i n g in the golrernc)rfsoffice in Jayapura offered to sell a piece of land in Obano in the Vaniai area to Freeport, but church leaders present at the meeting c~bjected,because it had atready been sold to the church by his father, This supporter, howver, was able to convince the other people to accept his point of:view fn November 1989, the unixrsity student left Ebr Paniai to make preparations far the launching of the program. On the way he told the Me people in Nabire tlzat the funcls that had already been donated would be used for e ~ l o r i n gfor gold in the Paniai area; he also collected donations from the Me community, With this money he w n t to Paniai and was received with traditionaf dancles in some of the villages. Later he organized a feast, where he explained his plans; those participating in it were asked tc>pay 2000 rupiah per person. fn December 1989, the cult leader left for Obano and held similar propaganda meetings, saying tlzat Freeyort Yawt~diNota was about to start working so as to meet the socioeccrnomic needs of the peoplte and that it was gc~ingtcr supplty the guns to drive out the Indctnesians. In February 1990, the Indonesian army learned of his activities and lzis programs ancl arrested him. He was beaten LIP and almost died, Aspirations h o n g the Western Dani Douglas H a y a r d (1985, 1992) has documented a consistent pattern in the history of cargoistic beliefs and activities among the Western Dani and confirmed tlze concept of rzabelatll-kabetarz as the basic motive underlying the Row of events. We will briefly summarize the three themes (or phases, 1985) that H a y a r d has identified, then report on some contemporary events, The first one is the religious theme. The phrase nabelatll-kubetarz which literally means 'my slskin-your skinyn Western Dani, reflects a concept, woven into the Dani culture, of rejuvenation or eternal life enjoyed by humans long ago but since lost. According to a widely-finawla myth, a snake and a bird engagecl in a race (or an argument). The snake, able to shed its skin, knew the secret of immortality, but it Xost to the bird (pirikoubit); since that time mankind is destined to

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die. The story reflects the attempt trt explain the mysterious reality of human death as well as expressing a longing for the return of nubetarz-kubelan, life without death or misery. The first white missionaries (who were not the first whites in each and every place) arrived in Dani land in the 1 9 5 0 ~ They ~ btlilt small airstrips, constructed simple houses and moved their families in, They began learning the lcjcal language and had a message to share. They also brought an inconceivably great amotlnt of wealth in by plane, At first, the Dani adopted a wait-and-see ayproach, and in fact their western neighbours, the Me and Uamal, initiated the chain of movements in the highlands, But soan they responded with great enthusiasm, burning traditional objects (both sacred and utilitarian), thought to be incompatible with the ccrnditions of the new age. They embraced the teachings of the missionaries, who were obviously pteased with their great zeal, although some of them expressed concern as to whether the Uani understood the essence of the Christian faith. The flani did, but within the framework of their own worldviem Tb this day the Llani believe that at that time nabelarz-kabel'an had arrived or was Mrithin reach. Xn 1962 the flut& left the territory The Xlldonesian adzninistration moved in soon after that and extended control owr the highlands. In the course of time, howver, the Uani became thoroughly disillusioned with the Indctnesians. Many promises were made, tlsually prior to elections, but they were never fulfilled. Xnflation went rrut of control, and prices went up while wages stayed level. Development programmes inefodcrcled did nett meet the Uani needs. They resented being treated as inferiors anci maniputrated by outsiders. When the 1977 elections were dtze to be held, the Dani believed that they corzld vote the Indonesians out of power and the Dutch back in, This, of course, did not happen, and they rose up in revolt, particularfy in tlze eastern sector of tlze Western f3ani territory. The uprising was qtzetled by the armed forces, Moreowr, in some places Dani rebels turned on their rwn people with a vengeance. In the end the situation returned to normal, more or less. Altho~1gl-tthe concept of uzubetuu-kubeta~zwas not apparent, and today the link is not clearly acknowledged by the Llani themselves, Hayward f correctly in our opinion) puts this concept forward as the underlying force moving the flani along a n their way to seek a satisfying way of: life, According to him, the tzprising reflects the political theme of Dani cargoistic aspirations. In the late f 97e)s, community development projects, introduced by the Protestant mission organizations anci underwritten by Wc~rldVision International, an American-based relief organizatictn, got under way, beginning in the Multia-flu area, By 1982 there were five-year projects in progress throughout Dani land, facusing on health care, agriculture, training and creating new sources of income. From the pcrint of view of the outside agents these programs were quite successful, for the Dani embraced them with great enthusiasm; in contrast to these, the various government projects (schools, roads and bridges mainly) did not Fare nearly as well. But today the Llani are not entirely happy with the end results of these development schemes which, from their perspective, have nett Ezrffitted their

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reat expectations. Once again, the underlying current moving the Dani to this conclusion appears to be caused by the concept of rzabelar~-kubeIarz~ bat tlzis time operating in the economic sphere, In July 1987, the American Ambassador to Indonesia visited Mulia to inspect some pmjects, A crowd of some 3000 to 4000 people was awaiting him. Most of them had been dancing the previous night, and many were dressed and deccrrated in traditional fashion. Their spokesmen, two church district Xeaders and a traditional leader, explained tlzat as illterior people tlzey had special needs, but that they were also ccrmmitted to peace and progress. They wanted more missionaries to come or retrtrn to Irian l a p , The ambassador responded to the statements anci requests with discretion. Hayward (1987), who was present at the meeting, reported that soon after the ambassador had left rumorzrs circulated that he wc3tzld return, tc>getherwith the President of Indonesia, to announce that the U.S.A. would take over the administraticrn of the province. Moreover, w r d spread tlzat 150 mission workers would be coming. Church leaders in the Swart area also emphasized the need for missionaries a year later. In November 1987 the tribal leader mentioned above (who claims to represent the entire Western Dani tribe, ajthough this claim was cer~ainlynot achowledged beyond his immediate sphere of influence) sent a letter to a missionary pilot, asking him to pick him up with three other men on that same day at the strip built near his village, so they could trrdvel to America to discuss the development of the lzighlands with twcr missionaries who had previotzsly lived among the Dani people, In June 1988, he sent a letter to five missionaries, He requested that at1 pabrik fc3und in Australia anci America be sent to the people living it1 the interior of frian jap. At the head of the letter he had listed the kinds of factories he felt were needed-thirteen altoge"rt.le The goods included rice, sugar, beef and canned fish, cooking oil, plates and spoons, batik cloth, clothing, watches, zinclalrrminum (roofing sheets), nails, cement, Ieerosene and finally mcrney, Early in 1989, some Western Dani in the Mulia-Xlu area were reported to have had dreams drtring which they received money; some of them had also gone off into the fbrest, Our infc~rmant,a Dani himself, commented: 'K~rnicari sesmatu" (We are searching for something"). A different stream of events developeci in the llaga valley, which is inhabited by members of two tribes, the Wstern Dani and the Damal. fn the ccrurse of 1988, a healing movement broke out under the leadership of a Damal evangelist (Larson 1989).Xn the early 1980s he lzad been deeply influenced by a charismatic Western Llani evangetist while attending a Bible school. He vas not able tc>finish his training, left the school in 1985 and went back to Befa across the range, south of Xlaga. Inspired by his mentar's life and mitltstry, lze built himself a shelter, called a house of prayer, in the forest to pray and fast. There he had a visic3n of angels hovering over waterfa'crIls, He heard the Woty Spirit say to him (in the form of a song) to put on the "armour of God' (a refelrence to Epibesians C;), then go anci preach. He went and travelled from valfey to valley amrrng the Damal, preaching and heaXing with phenomenal resufts,

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In October 1988 he crossed the range again and arrived in the Ifaga valley. A sort of wind storm had precedeci him, blowing off: roofs and destroying gardens and trees. hoplte first thought that the storm was caused by certain evil forest spirits, but then said that it was evidence of God's power emanating before the evangelist's arrival, to authenticate his messages and acts of: healing. M a y were healed of serious iltnesses, delivered of lesser troubles, and some who had "ied" were raised up, Meetings were held in the eastern half of the main valley and dowlastream on both sides of:the Ila river, among botlz Damaf and Western Dani. The usual pattern was first to have prayer sessions in the forest fbr one or two days. This was folfowd by several,days of teaching and confessing sin. Some people destroyed magical objects belonging to tl-tem. The meetings cancfuded with acts of healing, many of which were accompanied by the appearance of an animal, such as a bird, snake or frog, said to be coming out of the sick person and considered as evidence of healing, The local church responded very positively, and so did the local govanment, apparently after one of its workers lzad been healed. At the time that Larsc-tn wrote his report (July 1989), the movement was still in progress.

Cargo Talk at Soba Early in t>ecember 1988, Ms. Sue Renier, a missionary nurse at Soba, received a radiogram from the deputy chairman of the Assembly of Representatives (DPRIU) of the Jayawijqa Regency in Warnena (although it later became clear tlzat he had acted privately), The message was addressed to anatlzer missionary who had w r k d in Scha before but had since moved to the coast for a new assignment. He was requested to provide infcjrmaticzn at the earliest opportunity as to whether gold was fartnd in the Soba area. Ms. Renier duly passed this message on to her coleague at the coast. The gist of the radio message, hc-twver,was overheard by a few people who knew Indonesian, and so w r d spread around, Over the next few weeks Ms. Renier learned little by little of: what was going on. Apparently the Sc-tbapeoylte b e w 9 h a t her cc-tIleagueh e w the secret and had the k y to the gold. Why else w u f d he have been asked by the government to provide the inhrmation? A pahrik would be found in Soba. The occurrence of a strong mountain wind (siyelu) twice in the previous year w s an indication that the puhrik was about to appear. The people had accepted the Gospel all along, all tlze churcl-t buildings lzad been completed; so now the time had come for the secret to be revealed. Some claimed already to have found money and medicines at the source of a nearby river. Ward spread quickly to otlzer valleys as well, and excitement rose. In the meantime, the missionary in question arrived in Soba to spend his Christmas vacation there. We was iznmediatety met by many Hupla people, including church and tribal leaders, and was questioned about what he was supposed to know He denied having the key or knoTNing whether there was gc~ldor not, but he was not bet ieved,

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On December 30, a new church building was dedicated in a village in the Kwik valley. Huncireds of: peaple arrived from far and wide. The atmosphere was filleci with an acute sense of expectancy, that n~rwthe secret wotzld be rexaled. 'The visit1119 missionary preached a sermon, but he did not reveal anything. Pectple left very disappointed, and "any tears were ssbed,'A few days after this lze met with a large ntzmber of people again and long discussions ensued. He was almost prevented from leaving Soba. By tl-ten it had became apparent that several kepula szklcta (tribal leaders) had taken charge of the mc>vement.Some of them came to Ms. Trenier to talk to her. They recstunted some umztlz'k wene brigin stories%haded down by the ancestors, The essence of them was that in tlze past the ancestors of:both the whites anci the blacks lived tc>gether in harmony and peace; there was abundance of exrything and it was a golden time, But somehow or other this changed for the worse because of wrongs committed. So when the tirne came for the people to appear out of the lzofc near Seinma in tlze lower Grand Valley, the whites and the blacks separated; the whites came out first and disappeared, or they were pushed back to stay underground. Btrt now at last they had returned to restore the golden age, They were well received by tlze Hupla people. The time, however, had come for them to reveal the secret of wealth that w s abc-tut to arrive, wealth which had belonged trt the Hupla at1 along, Another factor mentioned was that tourists had come to the valley tirne and again to look for gold; why else were they there? Ms. 'Trenier had the impression that the Hupla had expected, and were expecting, the missionaries to share the secret, but that they felt let down at this critical juncture. She lzerself was not suspected of I~idit~g tlze key, h r slze had only passed on the message (Trenier 1989). The excitement died down just as quickly as it had started, but the people continued to falk about the aff;tir. Except for the local clzurclz district leader (and a few others) who was promptly blamed for the fact that nothing had happened, al~nostafX people, including church members and their leaders, appeared to go along with tl-te aow of events. Their expec~ationsdid not seem, in tlzeir persyective, to be in conflict with the Gospel. In March 1989 Godschalk went to Soba for a brief visit, There were net ~tbvious cult activities, but the expectations had not died down. The situation was overshadowed by (a threat of) imminent warfare, triggered by a ccrnnubial ccrnflict b e ~ e e nthe people of Lilibal near Soba and those from Pasema f and the Wet vaXicy), reyl-esenti~zgthe Kaio and Pasema confederacies respectively, This local canflict, l-tc>wever,was %tacked on' to a mtzch mrrre intense state of war bemeen two traditionat enemies, the Hrrsage and the Siep confederacies of the lower Grand Vaf ley, In the early morning of August 1,1989, the Soba area w s struck by a devastating earthquake. Xt caused ctxtensive damage to villages and gardens, and resufted in the death of about seventy peaple in the W s o valley (ancl m o elsewhere) ~ and the immediate dislocation of the population of the entire valley. During the first two days the suwlaivors were evacuated to safer ground by missionary heli-

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cttpters. These effcrrts were soon foltowd by government rescue and assistance operations, It was not long before the gclvernment decided that the Hltpla people were to be relocated to a presumably uninhabited area across the range, far to the north and at a much. lower altitude. The majority of thern reft~sedta leave at all. They simply wanted to make a living in their hometand with the help of relatives and friends, A smafi group, however, volunteered to gct and assist with opening up the site selected for them, being attrackd by the promises, made by government officials, of: good fife, health and wealth they would soon enjc~y.The same kepala szlku who earlier in the year had actively prctmoted the milfenarian, ideas in Soba now strongly urged the government ta proceed with this development project. Their spokesman apparently edibited the features of a prophet; for example, he dyed his hair black (trying tcr induce youthful vitality) and began to marry off young people (an act necessary to ensure the arrival of the new age). I11 some villages gardens and valuable trees were clestro~d(J. E? Wilson, personal communication, f 990). Given the prevailing cargoistic expectations, the people heard a message entirely different from what the government representatives intended to convey. On the o t l ~ e rhand, without apparently being aware of the implications of tlleir promises, these officials succeeded in absorbing and cbanneling such exyectations in their attempt to reafize the objecdves of the government. The result: a form of cooperation which, while codiat, was nonetheless marked by total mutual misunderstanding. Tile ctxpectat-ionsare not being realized, Many people became sick in the new location, mostly from a combination of malaria ancl hookworm, Several of: them died, relatively more at this time than as a result of the earthquake itself, This hear7 toll on life and health has been rationalized by some of the cult leaders as a price one should be prepared to pay. Wealth. has Fdifed to arrive; middlemen are now being suspected ofwithlizc>ldingit, Feelings of disappointment with and distrust of the government are surfacing. The questictn is raised why the promises made by its representatives do not become reality.

The West Melanesia Movement On December 14, 1988, a grotzp of about 60 people, most of thern from the small island of Ambai off Vapen Island in the Cenderawasih (Geelvink) Bay, assembled at the Mandala sports stadium in Jayapura. They were led by Dr. TIlomas Wainggai. At the meeting a manifesto was read out proclaiming the independence of the state of West Melanesia. This was fcrllowed by the raising of the flag of the new nation, The ceremony came to an abrupt end when the autl~oritiesmoved in and tttctk about 35 participants into custody, including Dr. Wainggai and his (Japanese-born) wife Teruko, They were tried on charges of subversion and related crimes. Dr. Wainggai was sentenced to twenty years imprisonment; his wife received a sentence of six years, allegedly for her part in making the flag; and the others remived terms ranging from two to eight years,

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Dr. Wainggai was bczrn in Ambai on December 5,1937, He had been a civil servant since July 1959, working first under the t>utch government, then under the Indonesian; his most recent post was on the staff of the Planning Board of the Province of Irian Tap, He earned a degree in Law at the Okapma State University in Japan in 1969, and a degree in Public Administration at tlze New York State Uniwrsity in 1981, and received his I3h.L). degree in Public Administration from Florida State Universiy in December 1985, t>r. Wait-tggai was highly critical of tlze development programmes of the Xndonesian gotPernment in Irian Jaya, This is reflected in his comments on the assistance by the United Nations Devefopment Programme (UNDB), the World Bank and the Dut& government, prepared at the request of the UNDP consultant and representative for lrian Jaya in 1986. Dr. Wainggai expected his report to be used by the present gc>vernmentas a meaningful guide to design a better development programme, He was convinced that the development in the area of pubtic administration, such as organization, law, administration, politics, justice, finance, security and defense has shown many good results althcrugh it is still far away frctm what is desired. But in the fietds such as education, culture, social welfare, religion, health, manpower or human resources, the development programmes have brotzght about very few changes. He observed that, in respect to eccrnomic development, the government has made some progress, particularly in the areas of agriculture, fislzery, forestry, gardening, animal husbanclry, commerce anci energy, but the majority crf the indigenous population still does not have a permanent income, as it is the case elsewhere outside Zrian Jaya, The indigenous people of Zrian Jays still mainlain their traditional systems of earning a living by utilizing traditional methclds and tools handed down by their fc~refathers,Physical dexlopment, such as housing units, resetttements, utilities (drinking water, electricity and gas) and roads, lzas been improved from time to time, bat the output is Far betow the desired level. To give one illustration, there is no highway from coast to coast or connecting one city with another, After exposing tl-tese developmental problems Dr. Wait-tggai raised two critical questions. First, how much longer shorzld the indigenous peopte of Irian Jay& whose province is so rich in natural resources f i,e. petrcrleum, copper, nickel, timbe& slzrimy, crocorlitc skins, cocoa, coconut oil, etc.) have to undergo this traumatic tragedy of underdevelopment? Second, who should pltan and dexlop this province with its indigenous people? By raising these questions Dr. Watnggai expected that the government of Irian J a p would wake LIP anci intmduce development programmes more oriented to the local peoylte. But his cry fbr the struggle of the local people went unnoticed, When he saw that the socitz-economic gap between tlze indigenous people of Zrian faya anci the outsiders widened more and more, he and others concluded that the onty solution would be ycrlitical indeyendence, wl~ichwas =pressed by raising the flag of West Melanesia on December 14, 1988. The only way to help raise the standard of living of the local people was to be free from Indctnesian political dctmination. To achieve this goaf, Dr. Wainggai and

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several other Irianese ftormed the Committee for the Independence of West Melanesia (Panitia Kemerrrfekau~zMetarzessla Bumt), of which lze became the cl-tairman; most of its members were pastors of 1"nteccrstal churches in and around Jayapvrraand all of them were from Ambai, the home vilfage of Dr. Wainggai. The main objective of the committee was to prepare for tlze indepencience of the new state by designing a flag, setting a date for the proclamation of independence, and forming a prayer fellowshipr One characteristic feature of this movement was the emplzasis on prayer anci fasting, and on relying on Cod for strength and corzrage to face the army. Many hours were given to sharing, praising God and confessing one" sins to Him. Xt was during one of these sessions tl-tat a lady living in faydpura had a vision, in which she was totd that the proper date fbr the proclamation of the independence of West Melanesia should be December 14, because "according to the Holy Bible it was on the 14th of the month of Adar that the Lord Gad delivered the Jews as a nation from the calamity brouglzt upon tl-tern by Ham" (see Efther, chapters '7-9). This vision confirmed the conviction of Dr. Wji~lggaithat Uecember 14, 1988 was to be the day that the government of Indonesia woufd transfer tlze administration of: lrian Jayi to the government of:West Melanesia. According to hirn one of the points of the agreement betwen the Republic crf Indonesia and the Kingdom of the Netherlands in 1962 was that 'after 25 years of Xndonesian rule representatives of tl-te United Nations would visit Xrian jaya and evalrxate what the &public had achiexd with its development programmes during these 25 yars.' These officials had visited Irian Jaya, according to Dr. Wainggai, and had evaluated the development programmes anci concluded that "he government of Indonesia had made no improt~ementsin terms of the socio-economic welfare of the local people.' Due to this failure, these officials were willing to arrange the transfer of:the seat of government to the West Melanesian leaders, and this was to be completed on the day referred to, December 14. Dr. Wainggai also consulted more than 350 Christians, among them three well-known American PentecostaX clzurch leaders, as to whether the pofiticaf independence of West Melanesia was against God$ wiH or not. All of them agreed that it was Cod's will that Irian Jays should be separakd from Indonesia. Anotlzer objective of the Palaitia was to design tlze West Melanesian flag. For several reasons, it had to B i e r from the one of the OPM, First, the OQM flag was made many years ago and, therefore, it did not necessarily reflect the current socio-cultural and pofitical sentiments a r represent tlze struggle for freedom of: the Irianese today. Seccrnd, the OPM did not have its roots in the Bible or in Christianity, and its Aag was made by non-Christians. The cotours of the Rag of West Melanesia were received through a vision and related to some Bible verses. One of the participants in the prayer fellcwship had a vision in which an angel came and told hirn to read verses from Revelation 6 (which refers to horses coloured wl~ite, red and black). He shared this with the other participants when the P~nitiumet again. The flag had three horizontal bars on the right hand side and a field covering the left third. The upper horizontal bar was coloured black, symbolizing

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blackness (of the Melanesians); the middle bar was white, which represents hotiness or purity; the lower bar was red, which stands for bravery. The field was green-coloured, symbolizing fertility; there were also fourteen stars in this field, to represent the districts into which West Metanesia was going to be divided. Why did Dr. Wainggai initiate anci lead this movement? He h e w that with this program he would be sent to jail, or he cczuld even be shot to death. He had, however; a firm conviction that the Lord God of the Bible wczuld be on his side, We would guide lzirn and, as he cited again anci again in a letter written from jail, Tufiaunasdalah Gernbata kami' ('The Lord is our Shepherd'; Psalm 23:f), a Bibte verse upon which Dr. Wainggai stood through-out his trial. He is very much a Mefanesian. If religion has any role to play in the life of a Melanesian (or for that matter an frianese), it should be now$not in the future in the wczrld to come. A Few Observations

Mirz realize that several of the movements described above are still going on in some form or anatlzer and are, therefore, "pen-ended: This lzolds all tlze more for what we may term the ambience of cargoism, which like a heavy fog is enveloping the human landscape of Irian J a p , yet is in fltzx, The fluid situation in Irian faya, coupled with the fact that mast of the events we refer to have ncrt (yet) been reported in tlze anthropological literature, also calls for tl-teoreticalrestraint. We are at this point more concerned about presentillg as fairly as possible a reasonably representative overview of what is going on in frtan Jaya today. With tlzese firnitations in mind, we offer a few preliminary observations. It appears that the (chains of) movements have had long and ccrnsistent histories, marked by recurring wat~esof cargoistic ctxpecfa"eons and activities, This has been well documented by Haward (1 985, 1992) in the case of the Western flant. Among the Me, too, we perceiw this trend. In the 1950s Wegee-bagemclvements held sway in the Paniai area, but they seem to have ebbed away. A similar movement, the Utoutnu~zumovement (Alimla Utotrmu~zu),broke out in the Kamu valley in 1963 and it spread to other areas in the foHc3wing years. Almost at the same time the Pabrik movements began to occupy the minds of many Me, From the point of view af the local missionaries, the response of:the H~xptapeople to a seemingly innocuous radio message appeared out of the blue. From the perspective of the HupXa themselves it was the clrfminaticzn of a process that had started long before, when tl-te first white people arrived on tlze scene, or even prior to that. m a t are the factors that trigger such responses? The range of such causes is wide, It may be rumours swirling thrctugh the villages that heatings and exorcisms of: evil powers have taken place across tl-te range. It may be a radiogram about gc~ld,ccrupted with talks that a pubrik has already appeared in another vatley. The dominant triggering point in our opinion, however, appears to be a widespread sense of: unlzappiness and dissatisfaction experienced day in day out in the social, economic and political areas of fife. A recurring theme in the interviews and reports is that many devetopment programmes have not brought the

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anticipated benefits, because services and materiais lack quality or simply becatlse of persistent corruption that drains away allocated funds. Oftea pmjects are intrc>duced,perhaps enforced, which dcr not seem to be appropriate to the local circumstances or meet the people" needs. There is also the fact that their land and its resources are encroaclzecl upon or simply taken away, or conversely, that they are "ersuaded' to leave the tan& of their ancestors for reasons that make no sense to them. And beyond this, many people, in the interior as wX I as along the coast, are grieved and lzurt, because tlzey are not respected by the other Indonesians as mature adults-real people-but treated as %achard"er>ple7 not wcrrthy to be feffectivefy) consuited on matters that have a viral impact on their lives anci future. Almost witlzout exception the Indonesian administration is being blamed for this state of affairs. The conclusion peoylte reach is that the Indonesians should be tolerated as tong as governments from other countries (e.g. the U,S,A., the Netherlands, Australia or Papua New Guinea) are invited to assist tlzem in the development efforts, or tlzey slzould leave Irian Jay&.The banner of independence as the on ty viable atternatix is sc~metimesraised, symbolically and-with tragic resufts-literafly. This leads us to a consideration of tlze basic motives that underlie the movements and cause them to break out, keep going, and even re-emerge in yet other forms. It is our thesis that such motives are to be found within the religious dimension of traditional o r %accrrlturattngkculture, and are reflected in motib threading throtzgh mythical stories. The classic example from Irian Jaya is that of koreri as exemplif ed through the myth of ManarmakerilManseren Manggundi in Biak-Ntxmfor cuftrtre (Ramma 1972). A similar concept is founci among the Me in the Wstern Highlands, where it is called ayii, Amrrng their eastern neighbcturs, the Damal or Amungme, the ~ ~ 3that r d represents and embodies the longings and expectations is Fzui; among the Moni it is the simifar term huzi, The cantext in which it is illuminated is simifar to the one encr>rzntered among the Mirzstern Dani, the Grand VaXley Dani and the Vali: a race b e ~ e e na bird and a sfiin-cl~angtngsnake (Eltcnberger 1983); the phrase used in tlzese latter societies is nabel'arzkabelarz or a ccrgnate term, The Huyta at Soba confided ttr the resident-female-missionary> who had gained their trust, some of their origin s t ~ ries, perhaps for the first time, to kxplainkhat tlzey hoped would take place. What are we to think of the West Melanesia moxunentl On the surface it appears to resemble a polidcal movement, with aims nctt unlike those of the OPM: independence anci &"re&orn,The Fdct that fir. Wainggai was tried on charges of subversion indicates that the Indonesian authorities take a similar line and consider him and his followrs a threat to the security of the state, Nevertheless, W venture tlze claim tlzat tlze West Melanesia movement is in essence a religious movement, because it is driven by a religious dynamic, which also prc>videsits blueprint. The choice of the date on which the movement came out into the open, anci its rich religious syxnbolisrn and significance, namely to trlze~rebyaypropriate and re-present the meaning and purpose of the IJurirn feast, is a clear indication of this, It is nctt surprising, therefore, that another protest was organized a

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year later, on the very same date. We d o not know, though, whether the participants in the West Melanesia movement, most of whom are from Ambai, root their movement in themes found in traditional Ambai world view. Thus, W recognize in ail these movements the presence of a deep-seakd imperative, the knowledge ancl certainty tlzat a time of woncler is at lzand, when people will be able to regain what has been lost in the past, a quality of life that incorporates health, longevity, wealth, happiness, self-esteem, or freedom, in short all the things tlzey miss today, In order to bridge this gay between the ideal and reality, many Irianese turn to religious mclvements based on traditic>nal expectadons. This is, with few exceptl~~ns, not thought: to be in conflict with the Gospel message or with Christian articles of h i t l ~ Hence, , a jtlrnp from one wortdview tc>another dcres not seem tc>be required. These few observations may varrant the ccrnclusion that cargc~ism,the Melanesia, version of the universal quest for saXr,pation (cf. StreXan f 977)),is very much in evidence in Irian jays today. Mare could be said about the (ritualized) means usecl to attempt to realize the expectations; abc->utthe leadership of the mclvements; about the attitude touvards non-participants and the outsiders; and about the responses to the movements, their leaders ancl followers. We have focused primarily on the causal factors, lPJhat is goi~lgon today is not likely tcr disappear crvernight; on the contrary Neither can it be kished away\or ignored. It is deplorable that within cer~ainsectors of the Indonesian administration there seems to be a lack of knowledge and understanding of such mrz\rements and their basic mcrtives in frian Jays. This may explain why the attempts to deal with them are frequently misdirected and create yet more feelings of frustration and disappointment. This in turn causes further friction, leading tcr the opposite of what is intended, not the cessation but the cmtinuation of cargoism as a coherent and fundamental perception of life and the proliferation of movements that result from this.

Researcl1 upon which this paper is based tvas carried orxt over a nrxmher of years. We thank the institutionswith which we were affiliated for part of that period (Giay at the ThecllogIcal Seminary ‘Waiter Post' and Godscl~alkat the Irian Jaya Study Centre tbrorrgll the Cendcrawasih State University) for allowing or assigning us to conduct this research, bre interviewed very many people, and wish to express orrr gratitude to them for their wilfingness to share their knc~wledgeand insights with IIS, either as participants or as "outsiders" we are especially grateful to those "in the fieid'. W appreciate the fact that Douglas Hayward, Gordon Larson and Sue Trenier gave us pem"i6on to use unpublished materials written by them !lie thank Professors Jan van Baai (who passed awrt)r in 19921, Dorotlxy Counts, Pim Schoorl and Dr. Andrew Lattas for commenting ctrr eariier drafts of this paper. Responsibility for facts and opinioxls rests with us, l. Our fi~ldingsare based on our own observations, or on intemiews with, and reports by, persorzs wlzo were either participants in, or close absemers of, the various events, Our

dat3 were) for the mast part%gathered in the late 1980s. The Me people (formerly known as Kapauku or Ekagi) live in the !liestern Highlands, around three lakes (Paniai, Tage and Tigi) previously kncwn as the Wissel Lakes, and also

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further to the w s t . I3oprrlationsare reported to be between 70,000 and over 100,000, The principal ethnographer of Me culture is Pospisil who did fieldwork in the Kaintz valley, The Westexxr Danl rxu~nberapproximately 150,000 people and constitute the largest society indigenous to Irian Jaya, They inhabit the Cerztraf and Mrestern Highlands, frfrorn the rxortherxr tip of the Grand Valtey to the Iiagit valley, situated llalhay between Wamena and Enarotali at Lake Paniai. There are several etllnograyhies available of the various groups of Dani; fieldwork was (or is) carried out by O3rien in the Konda valley near Karubaga, by Ploeg among the WanggiIasn close to Bokrzndini, by H a y a r d in the Mulia-Eta area of the Wogolo river systern, and by Larstltl in the upper Ilaga valley. There is no ethnographic account of the North Nafirn Dasli f Tiorn, Pit River, M&i or Uani~ne). The HuyIa people are a small society of about 2500 people, living in the Kaio and Flioso {where Soba is located) valleys and on the west flank of the Kwik valley, just rxorth of the 13aiirn gorge. Their lai-lguage is closely related to Lower Graild Valley Dani (Hetigirna). They form the last cunfederaq orz the (south) east side of the Kalim river of the series of confederacies found in the Grand Valley" Most of the participants in the West Melanesia movement are originally from Amhai, a small isfasld off Yapen island in the Cenderawasifl (Geefvis~k)Bay. 2, h h a i meails 'my older sisterkr "ny grandmother3ixt the Me ianguage, The word also refers to any older wcjman and is then used to show respect. But here it is used as a proper nal-xle for the spirit being who yrornises to deliver western goods to Paulus. 3, Paulus Tehay came from the same village. 1x1 1987, the hvo clans were at odds with ci (key to each other; the retatixs of Paulus accused this person of stealing their k ~ i ~ zpuhrik unlock the p~bra'k). 4. This missionary is1 turn told us that this person had indeed shown him a stone once, but that he had harrded it hack to llirn. After that the crrlf leader told the people that this missionary had stolen the real stone and given him another one. 5. Sundk (menyuwztik) meails 'to inject, inoculate5in Indonesian. The idea is that the wllites possess goods, because they kr~owhow tt:, deal with the spirit being; they know the right method, so she does not dernand ihulnan sacrifices but keeps on ddivering the goods to them. 6, Treeport Indunesiakefers to the company operating the copper mine at Temhagapura In Darnal territory and Is used here with the intention of prerrenting the loss of socioeconomic benefits experienced by the Uarnal. The leaders of this rnoverneslt dc:, not want the Me to suffier the same fate as the Dannal who were driven out by the whites and the Indonesiasls, wllose land was taken over and wllose mineral resources were taken away. ElwztdZ' means 'to distrib~lte(food or something else) free of' charge5n Me, 1Vot-u means 'sweet potato: but refers here tt:, food and wealth. Thus the name of the organhtion setleas tile nature of its mission, i.e. t-o distribute wealth that will be acquired through the use of the batm delz'm~free of charge. Nobody has to buy; everyone is entitled to have aaess to wealth. '7. The terminology ogle comes across reflects this attitude; kodehords co~nxnolllyused are suku (btzrgsw) terasing or terkebelnkattg 'issolatediunaccult~~ratedor backwrd tribai groups:

References Ellenberger, f.D. 1983, A Century of 'Ha? Movements asnong the Uamal of frian Jaya. In W. FIannery (ed.), Religkus *Wi?lremenlsZ'R MeEf~nesi~, pp. 104-1 10. Goroka: Melanesiarz Institute,

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Godschalk, J.A. 1983, A Szrmey of Salvation Movements in Irian Jaya. 111 W. Flannery (ed,), Religious Movemertl?; in i'CIelunesic~,pp. 52-101. Goroka: Melanesian Institute. H a y a r d , D.J. 19885. Cargokm arnorxg the Western Dani of Xrian Jay'a. 'IJnpublisfied paper, 25 pp. 1987. A~totherCargo Movement from the Mulia Area: A Report on Events which Took Place in July-Augist 1987. Unyt~btishedreport, 3 pp, 1992. The Cargc>isticNature of Movements of Co~xversion,Revitalization and Revival arnclng the Western Da~li,Unpt~hlishedpaper, 28 p ~ . Karnma, F.C. 1972. Kc?reri: ~Wessa'nrzicMovemertfs irt the Biak-~VurrzforCulture Aret~.The E-Lag~e:Nijlroff. Larson, G.F. 11389. Xtevivai Meetings under Mesak Morn. Unpublished report, 2 pp, Strelan, J.G. 1977, Search for ,$~lvation:Stablies in the JEis~oryIZRLI Theology of(2argo Cults, Adelaide: htheratl Publishing House, Strelan, J.G. and J.A. GODSCHALK, 19889, K~rpisrneJz' Melnncisia (CIa~golflrzirz &Welanesia). Jayapura: Irian faya Study Centre, (An augmented translation i~ltt:,Indonesian of Strelan, J. G, 1977,) Trenier, S. 1989. Cargo Talk at Soba, Unpublished report, 6 pp.

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ture and the G ofthe Jamaican Rastafarian Movement

Beginning in Jamaica in the early 197Us, the RastaFarian movement spread rapidly arouncl the world. The author suggests that the rapid gtobat dissemination of this movement was facilitated by the reggae music associated with it. This transnationat poptzfar culture cornplex has been seized upon particularly by groups marginalized within their own ccruntries and represents religion, lifestyle, and sociopoIitical resistance to its followers. -Edz';c.ors? Comment

Introduction

The need to place culture in a broader, more globally-based perspective has never been mare crucial than it is today, as powerful, transnatianat concerns, acting in concert with the omnipresent (ancl increasingly omnipotent) forces of a rapidly expanding etectrcrnic communications industry, have nearty succeeded in conscrlidatlng the entire planet into a single unified system.' But unttf recently most social scientists engaged in world systems research lzave fclcused solely on the political and economic aspects of gfobalization, leaving unexamined vast and relatively uncharted areas of cultural intercannectedness (in the reat~nsof art, music, cinema, Pcitshion, sports, and religion, for example). This article attempts to redress some of these omissions, by fcjcusing on processes relating to the diffusion and globatizaticrn of ''culture:The Jamaican Rastafarian movement and its atteaclant fclrms of expression are central to tlzis N e ~W j s t Indian (it-iirlebX(3-4) ( L 994): 259-281.

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study. With the increasing avaiiabtiity of 1 0 costllzighly ~ sophisticated technotogies, widespread transnational corporate expansion, global media-tzation, and the commoditization of culture which inevitably arises from the ccrmbined actions of these agents (cf. Schiiler 1976), it is nct longer possibte to ignore or underestimate the role such processes play in slzaping the development and transformation of present-day human societies and culture,

In September of 1973 a friend had just returned from attending a summer-long oceanography course in Jamaica, Apart from the usual tales of sun, sand, and coral-laden turquoise seas, he spoke about a new type of: music he had heard and of an elderly, ""pt-smrrking" vntleman he met during his many forays throughout the island. My curir~sityaraused, I pressed him for further details. Aborzt the music all he could say was that it sounded like a fusion of rock, sauf, and calypso underscored by a heavy syncopated bass guitar tine and drums; as for the ""soned-orzt" OM man, he apparently belonged to some strange Jamaican religious cult whose adherents grew their hair in long matted locks, smoked enormous quantities of p t f j a (marijtxaaa) and worshipped the emperor of: Ethiopia Haile Selassie. s island music and the Who could have imagined back in 1973 t h a ~ h i obscure religious, sociat, and political ideologies it espouses would, in only a few short years, spread far and wide and b e a ~ m eanother notable addition to the expanding repertoire of transnational popular cufture. That the terms ""reggae" m d ""Rastahri" "mould in so brief a span of time emerge to become almost houselzold words throtzghout the Caribbean and in many parts of North America, Europe, Asia. Ahica, and the Pacific is a truly remarkable occurrence-sct remarkable in Fact tlzat I felt compelled to examine this phenomenon more closely in the hope of gaining a clearer understanding of just hcw and why this came to be." What is perhaps most interesting ancZ unique about Kastafarianism is that it may represent the only contemporary socio-religiorxs movement whose diffusion is directly linked tcr various mediums of transnational popular culture, mrrst notably reggae music. The terms ""reggae" and ""Rasta" have become so closely iinled in minds of mmy that they are frequently accorded the svatrts af sponyms. AncZ while this popular perception of the mo\rement is by no means an accurate one-since it encompasses a great deal more than just a contemporary style of Jamaican pop music-tlze confusion is, nevertheless, understancZable. For whereas many w11o have written about IPastaEari dairn it to have acted as a major source, inspiration, and catatyst in the creation of reggae, nearly uEl acknctvvledge the fact that reggae has f~~nctioned, and in many instances continrxes to hnction, as the principal medium through which people the world over have acquired their howledge and awareness of Rastafari f the lyrics of Jamaican reggae songs having been dominated since the early 1970s by Kasvafarian themes, imagery, ancZ symbolism).+ Over the course of the last three decades this planet has witnessed the globat penetration of pop music (mass-produced music created with a large, often

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multinational audience in mind and marketed as such by the recording industry) and the technology essential for its widespread distribzrtion (transistor radios, portable cassette rea~rders,TVs, K I t s , etc.), As Roger Midifis and Krister Malm (1984:xi-s~)point out in their groundbreaking study on the effects of the international music industry on nations in the developing world: The 70s have taugl~tus that music i~rdzxstxytechnoiogy penetrates faster than any other technological development in the history of mankind . . . and has found its way into every curxzer of the globe. The most Isoiated village can get i t s first cassette recorder before it has running water or rnai~lscLectricit)i m a t is more, with tlze Rcent introdrtction of laser, digi~al,microwave, satellite, and cable technologies, the rate of penetration is accelerating at tznprecedented speeds. Xtesponsibiiity for the creation of this huge internatictnal pop market iies in the hands of both tlze manufacturers of music-related hardware and the multinational record companies and conglomerates who have created a global network of consumers. Working in tandem these two forces have contributed to the creation of transnatianal or nationless types of music through a process fabeled ""tansculturation" by Wallis and Malm ( 1984:30Q-11). Briefly put, this process involves the multi-directional ROW of musical influences between local music cultures ancl the international pop market, each feeding on and contribtttit~gto the other's develfopment.4 The global expansion of- transnatianal pop music contin~tesat a staggering pace, and during the last two decades the popular m~lsicof Jamaica has come to play a major role in such revtIlutionary dexlopments, representing one of the rare instances in which culture originally grodcrcled by and for the periphery has made a substantial impact on tlze c e n t e ~%>day i reggae hcrlds a commanding pc->sition in the global pop music scene, ccrntributing as much as if not more than it once had bctrrowd.6 And, as we shall see below, in tlze vast majority of cases it has been reggae music which lzas ftrnctioned as tlze primary catalyst for spreading the religion and culture of Rastafari beyond its original island homeland.

Rastafari in the Caribbean Over the course of the iast few decades the Rastafarian movement has managed to extend its reaclz and influence througl~ottttlze entire Englislz-speaking Caribbean (and to a lesser extent the non-English speaking Caribbean as well), serving as a powerfuf social cttmmon denominator linking disparate youth across tlze region by sirnultaneausty providing a vehicle whereby blacks in the diaspora can cultivate or recreate a lost African heritage and cultural identity and ideologically distance themselves from what many perceive to be the misguided and unjust societies in which they live.7 Local Rastafarian reggae bands are to be h u n d on nearly every island in the Caribbean (Bilby 1985; Guilbarrtt 19931, enabling Jamaican Rastas to successfufly

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export their ""culture of resistance" "regionwide (Campbeif, 1987). For decades RasfaFari lzas functioned as a corrective to the prejudices and white bias of corrupt and inefficient neocolonial Caribbean societies, and even the established Christian organizations have, after many years of indifference and hostility, been forced to recognize the important role tlze movement has come to play Izere. The Caribbean Council of Churches has even accepted the RastaEari into the Christ 1f 7)). tian fcrld ( W i ~ l i e 1985: X n recent years Caribbean Rastas ( particuf ady those outside Jamaica) have begLIn to put much less emphasis on African repatriatic~nbndthe deification of Walk Selassie, and have instead assumed more active political, and at times even militant, rotes. Examples of this can be seen in tlze revoludonary anci anti-capitalist positions adcryted by Rastas on the islands of Dominica, Antigua, St. Lucia, and St. Vincent during the past decade and a half:, many of whcm have been harassed, arrested, and in a number of instances even murdered for professing adherence to the faith.' The fears commonly expressed by local authorities in the Caribbean about the subversive and potentlafly destabiiizing inAuence of Rastafari are not wholly unfc3uncied. In 1979 and 1981 respectively, groups of dissidents whose ranks i t ~ cluded large contingents of Rastas made several unsuccessful attempts tcr take over political control of the Grenadines and Dominica.10 And in Grenada in Marcl1 of: 1979, more than four lzundred Rastas took part in tlze kaples Liberation Army" soverthrc)~of the Eric Cairy regime, after which the island" Rasta population was reported to have been integrated into the new revolutionary society set up by Maurice Bishop. Rastas, accorditzg to Campbell( 1987: 1 6 2 4 6 ) ,went on tc>attain a high status in the army, enjoying unlimited freedom of religionincluding the freedom to srnolce ganja. X n Rinidad, Rastafari represents a powerft~lforce among the island" lowerclass population, membership in the mo.l.ement cutting across both racial and ethnic tix-res. A substantial number of East Indians have, according to the anthmpologist Ansley Hamid ( 198 f ), donned the mantel of Kastafari-gmwing dreadlocks, smoking ganja, and embracing an it-ul crr healthy way of Life. It is not uncommon to find Trinidadian calypso singers incorporating Rasta themes into their music, and in 1979 the Mighty Sparrow dedicated a song entitled ""Ue Caribbean Man" "hich won first prize at the annual Calypso Monarch Competition) to the region" Rastafarians, E l As Harnid (1981) discatrered white conducting research on Rastafarian communities in San Fernando, Trinidad, during the mid- to late 1970s, the spread of the movement on the island was inextricably linked to the development of local ganja ""works of: trade, with the revenue procured from the sale of tlzis illicit substance being used by Zinidadian Rastas to establish legitimate busmesses and agricultural enterprises, thereby promoting Rasta ideats of self-sufficiency and independence fram metropolitan centers. By 1976 tlze movement lzad become such an established presence in many tower-cfass neighborboods, according to Wamid, that Rastas began to achieve a certain degree of prestige and respect as a

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result of their enterprise and exemplary behavior, although the media continued to link the movement to violent crime. By encouraging young people to take an active interest in the land through their establishment of small-scale agricultural projects, by proma"rrng the use of ganja as a substitute for alcohol and other mare h a r m f ~drugs, ~l and by creating an appreciation anci demand for locally manufactured goods, Rastas in Zinidad have served as a pcrsitive social force, especially among the island3 poor. Xt can be argued that the Rastafarian movement represents one of the most visible, potent, and progressix pan-regional cultural forces at work in the Caribbean today, one that has in a retaf vety short period of time proven esctive in breaking down the many inter-island and ixzter-ethnic rivalries that lzave yofarized this region for centuries (Campbell 1987:173). Ras~atfafslriin North America

A walk thrcrugh any of the West Indian neighborhoods in large urban centers like

New York, Miami, Houston, or Atlanta would be sufficient to convit~ceeven the casual observer that the Rasta6~riaamovement is alive and thriving lzere-as one could not hetp but notice the many individuals sporting dreadlocks and tallting iyarz'c (Dread Talk); the colors (red, gold, bfack, and green) and symbots of Rastafari adorning starefronts, homes, and vehicles; and tlze various Rasta-owned shops setting Afmcentric clclthing and ornaments and ital (l~ealth)food (cf. Lewis 1993:83-94). Similarly, if one were to turn on the radio at the appropriate time, he or slze wotlld no d ~ t l b hear t local reggae shows which serve as conduits through which information about tzpcc~mingRasta events and activities pass, But in spite of this visibie Rastafarian presence, little serious research has yet been undertaken to assess the movement's impact. in the United States, Ancl while American media will occasionally feature reports on focal Rastafarians, most only reinforce the negative images and stereotypes of the group harbored by the vast majority of the U.S. public, i.e., a heavily-armed anci dangerous assortment of thugs, mtzrderers, and drug dealers.12 Xn addition to the thriving West Indian Rasta population, there are a number of other interesting manikstations of RastaFari currently functioning in the United States, one of which is the Ethiopian Zion Coptic Chtzrch, According to Campbell ( Z 987: X 15- t 61, this group of middle-class Mrhites formerly headquarrered on Star Xslanci in Miami, represents tlze largest non-black Rasta formation in the country. Over the past ten to fifteen years these "C~~ptics" have been carrying on an international. campaign to legalize cannabis while stmuftaneousty expounding their stridently anti-communist "Rasta" "yhtlosophy, anci by f 979 they managed to attract so mtzch media attention that the popular weeMy CBS tefevision program "60Minutes" "aired a feature story on the group. Two thousand miles nortl~westof Miami at the bottom of the Grand Canyon five some four hundred Havasupai Indians, many of whcrm have beccrme ardent devotees of reggae (particularly the music of Bob Marley, who is a figure of yen-

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eration here for many) and the Rastafarian ethos this music conveys. On the wall of the community's only caf&hangs a photograph of: a dlreadlocked Rasta. Bearing the inscription "I Love Supai Rastafarians: it is personally signed by Wailer Tyrone Davvnie who, fascinated by the existence of this unusual Rasta group, flew into the Canyan by lzelicopter in 15182 to perfetrm a free concert.'J Not only do the Havasupai listen tcr reggae, but some even play it as well, Many also smoke ganjaw and strongly identify witli the anti-Babyion (and-Western) sentiments expressed in the lyrics of numerous Jamaican reggae songs (Treyper 1984). In the words of Arnold Shaw ( 1986:265), Director of tlw 130pulitr Music Xtesearch Center atthe University of Nevada, Unquestionably, the initial appeal of regae to the Havasupai was its sound and beat, But the Indians also forrnd paraibclls between their oppressive and deprived lives and those uf the bfack Jarnaicalls arnung whorn Rastafarianism developed as a socio-yolitical religion. The Havasupai claim thaoeggae music was first introduced into their cornmunity by three Xndians from California who brought with them a Iarge cttllecticzn of Bob ~"vlarleycassettes. Over the years enthusiasm for tlze music grew among the younger members of the tribe to the point where in the early 1980s reggae and Rasta cuftrrre came to play a major rote in Harsasupai life (Treyper 1984:12-f 5). The Havasupat" attraction to RastaFari has a number of:historical antecedents in the various revitalization motPements that d e ~ l o p e damong Native American groups over the course of the last hundred years, most notable among these being the Peyote Gufr which arose around tlze turn of the century both in reaction to and as a defense against the ccrntinuing encroachment of European settlers and the alien values they imposed on native goptzfations. Similar to the Rastafari, this cult's sadherents relied heavily upon indigenous interpretations of: the Old Testament, preached a form of pan-Indianism (where Rastas preach pan-Africanism), prohibited the use of alcohctl, and held a drug (peyote) to be the only remedy for tlze social, physical, and psychological ills introduced into tlzeir societies by the white man (La Barre 1969; Lanternari 19631.15 Up north in Canada, the RastaFarian movement grew slowly duritlg tlze 1960s and 1970s among the large West Indian population in Toronto (estimated at 2110,000), frequentiy coming tznder attack by prrlice and immigration officials who viewed it as a ""bizarre, criminal, and viofent-prone cuit" (Campbell 1987:180-81). As is tl-te case in the tmited States, significant researcl1 has yet to be tzndertaken on the Rastafarian mt>-vementhere, but given the massive popularity of reggae in places like Toronto, and with local black musicians using this music as a medium for promoting Rastafarian culture," interest in the movement amrrng West Indians in Canada no doubt ccrntinues to be substantial.

Rastafafslri in Europe The Rastafarian movement experienced substantial gmwtlz in the European metropolitan centcrs of London, Birmingham, Paris, and Amsterdam during the

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mid- to late f 970s, as immigrants from the Caribbean and Africa faced a burgmninng urban crisis (crime, drug abuse, illflation, and unemployment) ancl the grclwing specter of racism. Under such adverse ccrnditions and circumstances. Rastas tended to view themselves as a "minority elite," "taching a positive value to a racial and cultural identity tlzat had up till then been denigrated and suppressed by the dominant white European society (Cashmore 19'7?:383; Campbell 198218686).l 7 In EnglancZ, the Rastatarian movement first surfaced among inner-city West Indian yutzth during the mid-1950s and continued ttr increase in numbers thrcrughout the f 960s and 1970s as btaclcs found most atFenues for economic mobility and social integration closed to tl-tem. After 1975, membership in the movement increased dramatically-due in large part ttr the growing influence and popularity of reggae mtzsic-and by 1984 an estimated 25,000 ycrung blacks in Britain, professed adherence ta Rastafari.18 It comes as no surprise to discc~wrthat reggae music made its initial impact outside the Caribbean among Britain" large W s t Indian community. Betwen the years 1955 and 1962, close to 200,000 Jamaicans left their island homes and emigrated to the United Kingdom (Davis 1982:156), where along with their dreams and meager betongings they brought a taste for Jamaican music. The first independent recctrd labels emerged in London in the 1960s to cater to the growing demanci for authentic "island sounds.'" By the earfy 19";7s, reBae music could be heard exploding from sotznd systems, discos, and record shops tfir~ughoutthe Miest Indian neighborhoads of London and Birmingham. In addition to serving as a much needed source of entertainment, the music also prc>videddisaffected black yotzth with an alternative cultural outlet and sense of identity. By the middie of the decade a new generation of mostly British-born West Indian reggae artists emerged on tlze scene, many of whom adopted the Rastafarian befiefs, practices, and Iifestytes of their Jamaican counterparts, and it was not long before these artists and groups began expressing their new-hund Rasta identities througl~their own distinctive brand of British reggaethe Anglo-Jamaican groups Aswad, Steel IJuise, and Misty in Rcrots being amtlng the earliest and most popular (Chambers f 985; Heltdige 1987). Aftlzough the RastaFarian movement in England was for years Izeavily illfluenced by the mystical and religious idesllogy that ccralesced arotznd the divinity of Walk Selassie and repatriation to Africa, lately more and more Rastas have begun to take an active part in trying to improve life within their own communities and, like their Caribbean counterparts, have begun to adopt a more ycrlitical and even militant stance, During the 1980s, Rastas helped to establish many urban-based community centers and youth programs tlzrougllout tlze country, and in 1981 large numbers played a role in the riots that exploded in Engiand's black ghettos in response to police harassment and the regressive and racist policies of the Thatclzer government (Cfarke 1986:59,85; Campbell. 1987: 188,206). The Rastafarian mowment alscr managed to attract a sizeable number of wrking-class white British youth who, along with their West Indian counterparts, found their hopes for a productive fife tlzwarted by the many social ancl

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economic barriers pf ace$ in their path C Clashmare 198I :1 181f, Moreover, small numbers of- middle- and upper-class Britains have witlzin past years donned the mantfe of Rastahri in symbolic defiance against the privileged lifestyles afforded them and their elders in socially stratified, class-conscious English- society. In general, the ycrsition of Rastas vis-h-vi~mainstream British society has remained somewhat ambiguous. Although in 1982 tlze Roman Catholic church"^ Commission for Racial Justice urged tlze Britislz government to accept Rasta as both a valid (though non-Christian) faith and a ""legitimate culturaf formP2" and Lord Scarmen (PC, OBE, and Lord of Appeal), in his report on the Brtxton riots of 1981, expressed tlze opinion that ""the KastaFdrians, their P~ith,ancl their asyirations, deserve more tznderstanding and more sympathy than they get from the British people" (cited in Clarke 198Ci:96),the media and police have contintzed to issue reports and directiws prc~jectingRastas as violent criminats and psychopathic deviants." But regardless of the negative ways in which the mrrtPement is perceived by the British media and public, it ccrntinues to represent a dclminant cultural f o r a Mrithin the naticznk West Indian communities, Over on the Contitlent, since the early 1980s significant numbers of young Surinamese in the Netherlands have adopted the beliefs, practices, music, and dress of Xtastafarians in an attempt to forge a distinct ""back""identity for themselves in tlzeir alien (predominantly white) European home (Sansone 1984). As Peter Buiks (cited in Cashmore 1984:70) observes: Many of these im~nigratltscame to WoIlat~dwith high expectations about our country as a welfare paradise to find themselves within a short time deprived of adequate housing, exnyloyment, and education. I exl7ect that for some of these immigrants, their bhck skill gets a special meaning in these conditic~ns.I have the icnpressiun that the attractiveness of the Itastafarian movement is that it offers an adequate kame of reference for a more satiski~rginterpretation of their situation, Identity, and future, It is also attractive to them as a basis fbr renmed self-confidence,and as a vehicle ft3r cultural emancipation, t>uring two months spent in Amsterdam in the summer of- 1930, X came into contact with a Fairrly large contingent of Rastas, the majority Surinamese immigrants or first generation Dutch-born Surinamese who claimed to have been initially attracted to the movement thrctugl~their prior ctxposure to reggae music.22 Interestingly enough, this city also harbors the largest population of white Rastafarians X have yet come across, a situation perhaps best accounted for by the semilegal status afforded marijuana by the Dutch authorities and the vibrant a u n t e r culture tl-tat continues to flourish lzere.z3 In France, the only other nation in Europe known to harbor a fairly sizeable Rastafarian populaticzn, Rastas from French-speaking Mirzst African countries like Senegal, Mali, and the Ivory Coast have managed to incorporate into their worldviews additionat anticotonial elements picked up through their contacts with other Aftricans living in Iarge urban centers like Paris and Bordeaux; individuals

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who, like themselves, are struggling to find some meaning and direction outside tlze narrow confines of Francopllile culture ((Clarke 1986:98).

Spurred on in part by the many local musicians who have taken on the appearance of Rastafarians, and to a lesser extent a serious commitment to the faith, and have incorporated Kastalreggae-inspired influences into their music, a relativefy small though ccrnsyicuous number of urban African youth have over the course of the last decade and a half begun to profess adherence to Rastafari, Xn Ethiopia, Jamaican Rastas began settling in the early 1970s on lancl set aside by the emperor Haile Selassie fbr blacks in the New World seekng repatriation to Africa. Throughout the years these Rastas have subsisted maint-y by growing their own food as well as ganja, and selling locally manufactured handicrafts, The fbrmer Marxist government showed a surprising degree of: tolerance towards these Jamaicans, given their veneration of Haile Selassie. The Jamaicans managed to maintain relativefy good relaticrns with both the local arrthorities and the public prior to the overthrow of tlze Mengistu regime in 1991 (althouglz tensions did flare-up periodically between local farmers and the group over issues centering around land-rights and the tatter's deification of Haile Selassie). The presence of Jamaican Rastas in Etlziopia appears to have stimulatecl some interest in Rastafari amrrng a smal contingent of urban-based youth, as evidenced perhaps by the numerous reggae bands that surfaced in the capital Addis Ababa during the early to mid- 1 9 8 ( 1 ~ . ~ ~ In Zimbabwe, the impact of Bob Marteyk appearance at the nation" first Xndependence Day celebration held in April of 2980, and the subsequent appearances by Jimmy Cliff ancl the Angfo-Jamaican reggae groups Aswad ancl Misty in Roots, served not o n k to pcryularize reggae music here but prcmed instrumental in promodng the culture of Rastahri as well. By the mid- 198(>s,as Fred Zindt ( X 98 X :21) reports, reggae had become such an integral part of:the urban pop music scenewith reggae bands and sound systems all the rage in the cayitaf Harare and the music being played frequently on Zimbabuvcr? two Ieading radio stations-that one might have easily mistaken it for a local pop music genre. Moreover, during this period many young Zimbabweans began sporting dreadlocks, smoking ganja, speaking tyaric, and wearing ""Rasta colors.'"n addition to emulating the outwarcl appearance ancl yradices of famaican reggae artists, a hanclful also frequently read the Bible and other Rasta-related literature (e.g., books on Marcus Gartrey) and held a firm befief in the divinity of Haile Selassie.25 Reggae (and Rasta culture) has for decades enjc3yed considerable ycryularity in South Africa. where interest in this music and the Rastafarian ethos it projects frequently fakes on heavy potiticaf overtones, For instance, at the conclusion of a ""Fee Peoples?Concert" held in folzannesburg in 1983, two members of a local reggae band were arrested by police and sentenced to four years in prison for calling for the release of Nelson Mandela (Street f 986:22), and Peter Tbsh's album

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Equal Rights was at one poin"eanned by the South African government for its "subversivef' messages (Grass 1984:29), Lucky Dube-a Rastafarian who also happens to be one of the most successful, innovative, and internationally renowned Aftrlcan reggae artists to emerge on the continent in recent yearshails from South Africa, where his first album Slave was a massive lzit with sales totalling over 300,000 copies, breaking a record previously held by a local mbaqanga group, the Soul I-Zrotl?ers(Gardner 1991:29). Unfortunately, there i s no current information available on Rastas in post-agartl~eidSouth Africa. As the journalist and long-time chronicler of the African pop music scene Bijty Bergman ( 1985:24f observed baclc in the mid- 1980s, throughout the African continent both ""reggae and the Rasta mystique remain a strong current in the urban youth culture:' and this assessment by and large ccrntinues to hold true for much of W s t Africa tod;;ty-particularty in the Angfoyhone nations of Ghana, Gambia, Sierra Leone, and Nigeria (Savisfiinsky f 994). In Ghana, fczr example, two distind Rastafarian communities are presently knctioning: one is located in the capital Accra and affiliated with the Ethiopian Miorld Federation (the EWF) and the otl-ter,located just a few miles up the coast in Labadi, is connected to the Jamaican-based Twelve Ribes of Israel. The majority of: Glzanaian Rastas, Izowever, are not affiliated with any organized community or grcluy and instead mclve within a general circle which includes independent Rastas, the Twelve Tribes memberslzip, and tl~osealigned with tlze EWF, all of whom come togetlzer a n variorzs occasions (such as reggae concerts, national festivals and celebrations, and wekends at Labadi Beach) to listen and dance to reggae, reason, smolce ganja, read anci discuss the Bible, anci express their pan-Africanist leanings. Throughout West Africa, reggae is a major force in the urban pop music scenes of both Angilczphone and Francophone nations, where one finds a profusion of cassettes by famatcan, Angfo-Jamaican, and African reggae artists for sale in record shops and market stalls in every major city and rnost targe towns, The music is atso regularly heard on iocaf radio stations, in ?axis, discos, on street corners, anci almost everyhere young peapte congl-egate. Furthermore, a large percentage of W s t African pop musicians have either played reggae music at one point in their careers or utilized reggae rhythms andlor Rasta-inspired lyrics in tlzeir songs (Savishinsky f 994). In addidon to being an integral part of the urban musical landscape, reggae music; has, for the past fifteen years or so, also ftrnctioned as the principle medirrm for the diffusion of: RastaFarian religion anci culture in West ADica. Eighty percent of the Rastas I interviewed in Ghana and 66 percent of those in Senegal-where a small Rastafarian communiy has been functioning for over a decade a n the island of: Gorkeadmitted that their initial interest in RastaFari came about as a direct result of their prior exycrsure to reggae. And in the vast majority of cases it was the music of Bob Marley that made the most intense and tasting impression, altl~oughtlze music af West African reggae artists like Alpha Blondy, Evi-Edna Ogbcrli, and Majek Fashek has in recent years exercised a ccrnl (Savishinsky 1'394). siderable influence here as wX

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The impact of Bob Marley-bcoth his music and media-generated image-----on young people in West Africa in general, and West African Rastas in particular, cannot be understated. Throughout much of the region (and from what I can gather the continent as a whole), his songs can be heard blasting out of boom boxes anci stereo systems everywhere; his cassettes are offered for sale in urban and even rural marketplaces; and his dreadlocked profile can be seen staring out from I-shirts and wail posters in market stalls, homes, and restarrrants. Along with Mtzhammad Ali, lames Bmtzm, anci MichaeX fachon, Marfcy ranks among the most pcrpufar and influential pan-African heroes of our time-being widely kncown, listened to, admired and even idolized by young people everyhere, One would be hard pressed to fincl an urban-based African youth who is not Familiar with this man and his mtzsic, and for many Africans the name Bob Marley is synonymous with both reggae mtzsic and Iilastafarianism (Savisbinsky 1994). In many parts of West Afiica the use of and trade in cannabis is, along with reggae music, closely associated both in actual Fact and public perceptions with the culture of Ziastafari. In Ghana, for example, the smoking of cannabis (often in the context of extended ""reasoning sessions"")~ a common practice among RastaFarians, anci peapfe will often refer to any young man seen hanging out a n the street smoking or peddling "wee" (a local Ghanaian term for cannabis) as ""Rasta.'%nd while few Ghanaians wcould openly admit that their involvement with Rastap~riwas influenced by their prior or parallel involvement with this illicit substance, my research shrjws that in a substantial number of cases initial entry into the Ghanaian Rasta scene came about as a direct resuft of an individual's predilection for smoking cannabis andlor his dealings with Anglo-Jamaican a r West African Rasta cannabis peddlers. Apart frcrm the fact that Xiastafarian sentiment and ideology is steeped in tlzemes relating directly to Africa and African repatriation and that for years reggae artists have championed the cause of African liberation mrrvements in their music (Bob Marley" song "Zmbabwe" and Peter Tc3slk"s "Apartheid," to cite but two examples), the attraction of African youtlz to Rastafdri may also be viewed as a direct outgrowth of their desire to participate in a contemporary i~~ternational movement-to be a part of the ""global scene" as it were (the appropriation of RastaFdrian religion and culture being one af the various strategies employed by West Africans wishing to establish such gtobal connections). Evidence for this can be gleaned from the fact that thrcrughout the region the term ""Rasta" is isoften used by non-Rastas when referring to rebellious Western-orient4 youth. Also, West African Rastas generally tend to be more outward-looking and globallyorientated than their non-Rasta contemporaries, In certain respects this embodies a fundamental contradiction whereit1 afienated urban yotzth who are basically out of touch with many aspects of traditional African culture turn for a sense of meaning and identity to an ostensibly andWestern, anti-neacolonial movement that places considerable emphasis on the recreation of crr return to a more authentic ""traditional" way rrf life, but which in fact rejects many aspects of indigenous African belief and practice and in its place

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utilizes forms of religion (Judeo-Christianiry) and popular expression ftransnational pop music) closely linked to the alien culture of:the ""opyressors'"tlze West or ""Babylon"") Subsequently, for many W s t African yotzth inwll~ementand identification with Rastakri is fraught with contradictions, ambivalence, and mixed allegiances.2" Although the total Rastafarian population in W s t Africa is relatively small, the impact of the movement and its attendant fctrms of cultural expression on urban-based youth is significant. To cite one illustration of this: in Ghana in 1989 a large reggae concert vas organized at Labadi Beach as part of the nation" Independence Day celebrations, Sponsored by the government-run Gl~anaTourist Boad and billed as a dawla to dusk "Reggae Sunsplaslz Beach Festival,'" this afternoon event, which featured three local reggae groups as weif as a massive sound system manned by local DJs, drew a large and appreci&ive crowd numbering in the thousands, most of whom were not Rastafarians. In addition, another concert sponsored by the Glzanaian Twelve Tribeskhayter and billeci as a ""Special Eeggae Festivaf for Rastafarians" was held in Accra at the Orion Cinema that very same evening f Savishi~lsky1994). As elsewbenz, K a s t a f r i a m in Africa appears to have a number of historical parallefs and antecedents. The first revolts against European imperialism and ccrlonization on the continent took the form of religious movements aimed awountering the disruptive effects of: the white man on traditional African society, As Terence Ranger ( 1986:51) points oat, these formations were particularly well suited for such a purpose since they could draw on the ambiguous power inherent in religious myth, ritual, anci symbolism anci could tlaerefore ""mean many things at once and contain many prrtentialities*" Like Rastafarianism, many of these twentieth-century African formations (e.g., the Kixzlbangu and Orunufa movements; tlze Mvungi, Tansi, and Kitawala cults; anci the Zionist Churches of South Africa) were millenarian in nature and represented an Afro-Christian s p thesis wherein ideas, images, themes, and terminology taken from the Otd and New Testaments were tlsed to e x y ~ s their s membership's desire for religious autonomy, political emancipaticln, and deliverance from po.l.erty and oppression. As is also the case among tlze Rastafari, many of these groups and tlleir leadership expressed a belief in a black God; yroplzesied the coming of:a black Messiah who wotzld usher in the Kingdom of God and a Golden age of prosperity free from foreign domination; identified their group (and sometimes the African race in g m a a l ) with tlze Biblical Hebrews; and finally were lzighly critical of: European civilization and the destructive elements (alcoholism, moral corruption, the alienation of land, etc.) intrctduced into their societies by the white man.z7 Rastaifstri in the Pacific

During the last decade and a half the Rastafarian movement has alscs beccrme a visible presence throughout much of the Pacific. In October of 1981, the Me!bozime Age published a report about a Rases ""snival center" set up in Austratia to

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cater to the needs of the many Aborigines who had joined the movement during tlze late 1970s and early 11380~.~~ AncZ whife indigenous Ras.ta communities can be found on many islands thraughrrtzt the region-Sarnrra, hnape, Tangs, and Fiji, for example"-the largest contingent of Rastas are those in New Zealand, Bill Hawkeswood, a New Zealand anthroyoiogist who in the early 1980s canducted research on Rastafarian ccrmmtznities in the capital AtncMand, found the movement there trr be extremely diverse as regards ethnicity (incorpora"eing whites as well as blacks30 from many ethnic gmups-the largest proportion being Maori and Samrran) and socicr-economic status (including among its ranks office and factory wctrkers, truck drivers, students, artists, and unemployed-the latter accounting for over 50 percent of the total Rastafarian population). As Hawkeswod discovered. New Zealand Rastas generafly p a r t i c i p ~ ein a wide range of practices typically associated with Jamaican Rastafarianism-e,g. syorting dreadlocks, smofcing ganja, f-roiding reasoning sessions in "karic," listening to and playing x^eggaemusic, adopting Rasta names, and ~ a d i n and g discussing the Bible and the speeches of Marcus Carvey and Haile Sefassie (Hawkes~ni.ocrd 3 983~99-209). Spurred on in large part by the international success of: Bob Marrfcy, RastaFdrianism first took hold in AucMand in the mid-1970s, and to this day reggae music represents the focal point around which the movement revolves. Listenlt~lgto reggae may be likened to a form of Izomework for aspiring Rastas here, as most obtain the greatest degree of knowledge about the motpement through their contacts with this music and the Rasta-based messages it espouses. As one of Hawkeswood's ( 1983: 114) informants observed: Mast of the street kids gat into 1tasta through the mtzsir, And reggae xnusic has a message. This message is what the knr>wledgeis. So once they get into the music, the message is reaching them, I %posethat's how we ail gat into it, W heard about R.3s Tafari, Marcus Garvey, and all these things in the songs,

Adherence to Rastahri appears trr provide btack New Zealanders with a concrete and tznambiguous cultural identity, as many find it difficult accepting the Britishbased ""New Zealander" identitp and being cut off from their ""rots," h d it equally difficult to maintain their own distinctive ethnic charackrs." Caught somewhere in b e ~ e e nthese two inviable allternatives,young blacks in Atncuand have over the years been turning to Rasta in substantial numbers, utilizing the symbctfism of the movement and the social rehtionships obtained therein to construct and susain a mon: satisfying self-image and identity (Hawkeswod 1983:3'79). As typifies the movement in its otl-rerglobal incarnations, Rasta groups in New Zealand are for the most part loosely organked, acephatous units-information about Rasta-related activities and events (reggae ccrncerts, meetings, gcrssip, etc.) being disseminated via an informal n e ~ c t r k(the ""Rastavine"")hicxck functions primarily through word of mouth (Hawkeswood 1983:92-93). Gaining knowledge about Jamaican history and current events is ccrnsidered an essential duty incumbent upon every Mew Zealand Rasta, as most are wont to

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idende their own situation and plight as oppressed blaclcs with that of lowerclass Jamaicans, Many also view the Africans9transportation to and exile in the New Wcfrld as analogous to what befeff their crwn forefathers who, after being seduced by promises of high wages and a "better iife,'babandoned their homes, families, and traditional ways of life to settle in an alien, European-dominated society (Hawkeswcrod f 983: f 35-36). As i s so typical of Raseas everyhere, adl-rerentsin New Zealand ftace strong opposition to their beliefs and practices from the media, the police, and the general public. Althc~ughtypically branded as dope-smoking, fa-zy, and violent ""cultists," a great many are in fact invctlved in activities aimed at tnlproving the yuafity of lik among the nation's poor. For example, one group of Rastas es.t;rblished a youth center in AucMand that catered tcr the needs of yotzng men belonging to focaf street gangs, many of whom subsequently abandoned their criminal and antiscjcial iifesqles and joined the tocal Rasta community (E-lawkeswaod 1983:X,84,182). Rastas here often cite the more universalist aspects of the movement-its anticolonial and anti-imperialist stance, espousal of a return to a more natural and traditionat way of life, and condemnation of the Christian Church and Western civilizadon-as justification far their adoption of tlze faith. Many also defend the emphasis they and Rastas e x r ~ h e r place e on the study of African history and cuItrrre by explaining that since mankind evolved on the Ahican continent, a11 humans, regardless of race and ethnicity, can ultimately trace their ancestry back tc>Africa, And while some have taken this argument a step further by insisting that the only real solution to their present predicament is African repatriation, tlze majority have instead chnsen to fc~cuson more practical goals such as working tc>change the social, economic, and political structure of New Zealand society and to gain a greater knowledge and understanding of their own indigenous traditions and culture (Hawkeswood 1983:114-29).

It is my befief that the glcrbat appeal and spread of the Jamaican Rastafarian movement can be finlced to a number of elements or factors, The first is the preeminent position the Bible lzolds in Rasta6~rianritual and ideology, Second, the stress Rastas place on healthy, natural living and their subsequent rejection of Miestern artificiality in the realms of food, medicine, social relationships, etc. Third, Rastas' outspoken conclemnation of the lzypocrisy, carrrtption, injustice, and white biases inherent in colonial and neocoloniaf societies and institutions, Fourth, Rastaskexhortation to the colonized and subjugated peoples of the w r l d to take pride in tlzeir ancestral heritage and culture ancl to look to their own indigenous traditions for guidance and support. Fifth, the amorphous and decentralized nature of the movement, which gives adherents everyhere the freedcrm and flexibility to select and it~teryretspecific aspects of RastaFarian religion and culture in a way that is best suited to their own needs and situations, And finally, but perhaps most importantly, the powerful finfs that exist betwen the mctve-

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ment and various aspects of contemporary transnationat popular cufturenamely music, drugs, and t~shion. For Rastafarians everyvvhere, listening, playing, and dancing tcr reggae music reyresent essential components in both refigjitus wrship and personallcoXIective expression. And as detailed above, reggae music has over the past two decades managed tcr attract a sizeable frtllc>wingamong both black and white youth throughout the developed and the developing world. What is more, reggae music has served and in many inslances continues to serve as the principal conduit througl~whicl.1 the religious, social and pofitical messages espoused by Jamaican Rastafarians have reached out to and affected the lives ctf thousands of young people worldwide, Litrewise, ganja, botlz its trade and the rituals associated with its use, white perhaps playing only a sea~ndaryrole t~ reggae music, has atso ccrntributed significantly to the global spread of the mtrvement, functirrning as a mechanism for personat spiritual transcendence and a highly visible symbol of Rastafarian defiance to the taws and institrltians of "habylon." Moreover, the smoking of cannabis prc>videsan impclrtant rallying pclint, social activity, and common denominator around which Rastas from diverse groups and backgrounds can unite, distingt~ishingtlzose who belong or might someclay belong from those who will forexr remain outsiders-the smokng of cannabis being viewed by the vast majority of Rastas everyhere as one of tlze most essentlaf elements of religious expression and shared group identity, That drugs, music, fashion, and scrcio-political protest ccrnstituted the major features of first the sixties countercuiture movement in the United States and tater the ""punk"" plzenomenon in England lzelys in part to explain the appeal generated by reggae music and Rastafarianism among young people in Europe and North America a short time thereafter, The emergence of Rastafari on the globat scene also followed closely on tlze lzeets af the Black Power movement-botlz representing important manifestations of black pride and self-assertion-and during the mid- to late 1970s a substantial number of young disaffected blacks in the Caribbean, Canada, and Great Britain turned from this movement to Ras~afari (Hamid 1981:204;Campbell 1987: 175-79). The ideologies and practices of the Rastafari are, as detailed abctve, not new to many of the societies in which the movement lzas gained a fr~llowing,but to the contrary represent a ccrntintzation of earlier historical traditions and processes rooted in anti-colonial struggle and the desire on tl-re part of indigenous and oypressed peaptcs to improve their economic and sociat positions and to preserve a culture and way rlf fife that has suffered and cantintzes to sufkr progressive erosion in the face of Western econctmic, potitical, and cultural domination. That tlzese historical legacies are in na small part responsible for tlze interest RastaFarianism has generated among thc~usandsof ycrung people in the Caribbean, the Pacific, and Africa-as weH as among Native American Indians in the United States-is beyoncl doubt. As the Rastafarian movement ccrntinues to grow and tzndergo modificationssuch as a deciine in the emphasis placed on African repatriadon and the w r s h i p

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of Haiie Selassie-and

as it spreads, via transnational. popular culture, the mass media ancl the electronic communications industry beyond the canfines of its original homeland, it faces the ongoing challenge of becoming a significant ccrntributor to the rapidly expanding ""gfohal culture," But whether or not the movement will prove potent and flexible enouglz to meet such a cl~allenge,one tlzing remains certain, the view beyond Jamaica is, to quote Llerek Bishton (1986:2), ""iicreastngly an international. one.'"

1. See, far example, Wailerstein. 1979, Mattefart 1"333,Schillex 1989, Hannerz 1992, and brriston 1992. 2. In 1988-89 I conducted field work 011 the sillread of the Rastafarian rnovelnent in Glla~laand Senegarnhia, and much of the material contained in this articte is adapted froxn the dissertation that fofailowed from this research (which included a lengthy chapter orz the giohai cliffi~siorzof reggae and Rastafari) (see Swisl~irzsQ1993). 3, Xri recexit years ""d;zncefnail music a subgenre of regae wit11 ~minirnaIconnections to Kastafarianism, has become increasingly popular in farnaica and among West Indians in Britain and North America, Similar in form to African-American rap and hip hop lnusic, a typical dancehait,tune Is structrxred around a DJ '"rapping7* ((oftenin a heavy Jamaican patois) over a computer generated re="-bad rhythm track, with little expressicm given in the song texts to either religious, social, or political thelxes (see the New York Ernes June 21, de1992, p. 23). And with the recent upsztrge in yopt~larityof danahall and the s~ilbseqtte~lt cline of other ft2rms uf resae, it appears as it; the links that once botznd Jamaicatz popular rnusic to the culture of Rastafart; 11ave fi~lallybegun to erode (at least throughout much of the Caribbean and alxollg Fliest Indians in Engkand, the United States, and Canadct), 4, While it may be true, as Hannerz (1 987) suggests, that such 113odern developments have pro)vided people the w r l d over with access to a greater diversity of music than they ever had before fan$ in the process 11as led to the ""ceotization" af giobaf pop music and the subsequent creation of new syncretic, i~ldigenizedforms of popular expression),some (cf. Hamelink 1983) voice fear that the tongterm effects of transcultuxation may Iead to the eventual formation of a homogenized gtobal music cult~ireand the loss of in11c11of the worl$S stuck of distinctive, iocal xnusical styles. 5, Hannerz 6 3992:265) argues that the interplay between center and periphery which develops out of s~zch"muftidirnensional cultural encounters'kreates a greater afinity bem e n the two, resuititzg in the I~eightenedahility of the latter to ""tlk back""to the farmer. And as the periphery increasin&y makes use of the same organizationat forms and techr?to)ogyas the center, its new cultural prodzxcts become more attractive to the global market-hence the popular music of the Third World becomes "bbrld Mt~sic." 6. In the 1950s and 1960s the playlists of Jamaica" single radio station were almost identical to those of pop music stations in major U.S. cities (Clarke 1980:62). and even as recently as 1(379,8Opercent of a11 the mtzsic played on Jainaican radio was ft2reign in origin f Link 1979:IO). Comequentiy, reggae was infiuenced to a large extent by American rock, soul, rhythln & Mues, and gospel music (.For a detailed description and analysis of the origins and development of reggae in Jamaica see CIarke 19880 and Nagasl~irna1984). 7. Campbelt 1980:19-20, 1987:153-75: Forsythe 1980:62: Semaj 11980:22: Hamid 1%1:6-7.

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8. As a spokesman for the movefnent in St. Lucia asserted: ""UnlikeJarnaican Rastas, the St. h c i a n Elasta does not want repatriation to Africa. Mast believe that wherever they are, Africa is:' (cited in Carnpbeil 1%7:160). "3 On the istalsd of Dominica in the mid-1980s, an individual ft>u~tundwearing his or her hair in dreadlocks risked being sentenced to up to eighteen months In jail, and in Guyana the government was SO wrried about the potential Rasta had for mobilizir~glarge sscgrnents of the pol2ulatior1 that It banned reggae music from the nation" aiwaves in July of 1980. (see Campbell 1987:159,171). 10. IV~W York Ernes, Selsrtelnber 12, 1979, p. 21 and July 10, 1981. p. 21). 11. Interestingly enough, a major confiict arose bettveen Afro- and Indo-Trinidadians (see Kliss 1991:66) cmr the Afrocentric natlire of the songs lyrics and the exclusiox~of the latter group from many of its most prominent messages-the controversy apparently foct~sing011 the fatlowing lines:

Dern is ogle race-De Caribbean Man From de same place-De Caribbean Man That make the sarne trip----De Caribbean Man Qn the same shil+L)e Caribbean Man 12. See, for example, "Two Pcortraits of Rastafarians: A Sect of Violence or Kighteot~sness:" New York Times, J u ~ l21, e 1977, p. 35; ""GangArrests Dismity Jamaicans: Mainstream Community Fears Image after Police Crackdown,'VSA 'I"ada3 October 14, 1988, p. A3; "Fi11n IasuXts Faith, Say Rastafarian Protesters:" Los Avtgeles l'imes, October 23, 1990, p, 133; Lewis 1993:9&98). 13.. Il'hr?Arizona Rej~tkbll'c,October 3 1, 11 382, pp.. 139-54. 14, According to Tbm Nicas, a public schocrl teacher In nearby Peach Springs, by the time Ha~asupaichildre11reach the age cof six they can weave a basket and roll a sptiff (a caxinabis cigarette) with ey ual dexterity (cited in Trepyer l"384). 15, Interestingly encougls, as is also the case with gatzja among Rastafarians, all biblical references to the word ""hrh"" were interpreted by cult xnelxbers as referring to ""peyote:" which they viewed as a Iwiy sacrament equivalent to the bread and vvi~zeof the Christian Eucharist (Lanternari 1963). 16, According to BiElIjonrd iM~ilguzl'uaeof January 26,1980, p. 63, Toronto was one of the leading centers for Kegga h North America. See also Busman 11985:19 and Cgtrz~ru'ian Contposer 6, 1980..pp, 4-16. 17. Such ""cuttttral denigration" is painfully evidcizt in the following passage taken from a history textbook once widely used in English schools: "To the collquest of nature through knowledge, the contributions made by Asiatics have been negligible and by Africalls (Egyptians included) no11-existent'7cited in Campbell 1987': 185). 18, Clarke 1986:53-55; Carnpbetl 1987:1 86; Ulilristi~nity?bdayt Seytemher 2 1, 1984, p. 13. 1% This sitrxation was brorxght to public attentiorz when an article by the Peruviar~novelist Mario Vargas Llosa appeared in the New Bjrk jlFmes Mag~zz'neFebruary 116, 1986 describing his sixteen year-old son's conversion to Rastafarianism: The boy being one of among a dozen or so pupils at an elite English boarding schocol who grew dreadlocks and practiced a strict adherence to orthodox Rastafarian beliefs and practices. 20. tn~zcion'lyrnes, famary 19,1982, p. 24. 2 1. Cashmore t 98 I: X 77; Carnpbell 1987:189; ""FghLixrg Street-Fighting Men: LclrzrZorz Times, Auwst 1, 1992, Saturday Review Section, pp. 12-1 6.

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22. Reggae has enjoyed sporadic tl~aughat times Intense srrccess in Westerxr Europe during the past fifieen years, spearheaded by Bob Marley's rise to international stardorn in the mid-1970s. In the late 1970s, for exampfe, MarleyS album Exodtls made it tct the top of tlze charts in Germa11)i and in 1980 a Tc~rcmto-basedreggae duo sold over 100,000 copies of their single "Hop, Skip, and Jump" '11 Belgirtrn and Holfar~dalone (Billtfourd Janl~ary26, 1980; Ccinadtun Cowzposer, 6,1980). Jamairall regae artists who toured Europe drew large ancl enthusiastic crowds: drjirirrg the E97Os, Peter Tosl~pia)ied to packed houses in Holland, Italy, France, Sweden, Switzerland, and Norway (RiliBour~tSeptember 8, 1979), and throu@out their careers both Bab Marley and Jirn~nyClif3 experierlced tittie difficulty in selling out stadium-sized ventres thrclughorxt the continent (Davis 1982:90; Rolling S;tar~e June 8,1981). 23. ""Letter fmm Amsterdam, Wl~erethe Sixties Keep on TokitzgJ'"Rwirzess Week, ApriI 25,1999, p. 26A. 24. Bishton 1986:40-41; Campbetl 11387:222-29; 2'he &;lily Gleuaer, October 12, 1976, p. 4: New Zeuluad Evening Post, February 22, 11384, p, 113.31 my k~zowledgennothi~lghas been written about recent ewnts in Ethiopia as they relate to the local Rastafarian population there. 25, With the exception of a relatively smaII number of orthodox Elastas, Afi-icans tend to downplay the importance of Haile Selassie, many refusing to accept the Iegitimacy of his divine status. The following stateme~ltby the lvorian reggae star Alpha 131oncly-who Iike xnany an African reggae artist is a self-proclaimed ltrzsta and ardent pan-Africanist-may hest express the attitrrdes held by the majority of African Rastas t t m r d s this former Ethiopian monarch: "l, as an Africa11 Rasta, do rxot comider Selassie as being a living god. X corzsider him to be a syrnbof with a biblical background, like King Soiorrtorz arxd the Queen of Sheba as his ancestors. 1 believe in that. And I believe that he was the Africa11who buik tlze 0,A.U. [Organhation of African Unity], tlze first African conscicrrtsness of unity above political ideology and tribal consideration'ycited in Uavis 1988:35). 26. Such contradictions and ambivalence are also apparent arnong Jarnaica~lRastas, the vast xnajority of whom prefer to distance thernsdves froxn those aspects of Jarnaican religious experieilce most closely linked to indigenous African beliefs and practices (cf. 13itby & Leib t986:23:Bilby 1"393:35). 27. SundMer 1961; hnternari 1963; Baeta 1968; Bond, Juhnsoll & Walker 19E; JulesRossette 1979; Fields 1985. 28, Cited in the New ZeuE~lndZ,ZStener, January 17,1981, pp. 18-19, 29, Kilt Hawkeswood, personal commrxnication, 30. The label ""black" in NW Zealand is commonly applied to ail persons of norz-Errrclpean descent such as blynesians, Samoa~ls,Tongans, Fijians, Maori, Niuea~ls,Indians, and Chinese (f-iawkeswocrd 1983:171). 3 1. In the past a nurnber of isative socio-retigic>usmt)vements emerged in New Zeala~ld in direct res~3onseto the presence of Et~ropeans,mc3vemeuts wllicll share a host of features in carnxnon with the Elastafnri, For example, the Hau-Hau, a group which arose arnung the Mauri in the earfy part of the nineteenth century, called for the expulsion of ail whites froxn the i s l a ~ ~and d the restoration of ancestral beliefs and practices. Like Rastafarians, the Hau-Hau spoke of the imminer~tdestruction of the world followed by a Goldell Age free from Euroi~ear~ domi~zatiorzand exhibited a strorzg affirrity for the Qtd Testament and ancient Jewisl~history and culture, believing themselves to be descendants of the tribe of frrdah and as such God's Chosen 13eople(Lanternari 196;3:248-55).

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References Kaeta, C.G, fed,), 1968. C,"fir-istiarziyirz Trof~icwl Afrk;l, Landon: Oxford University Press. Nergrnasl, Bifly, 1985. Godtime Kirzgs: Enzergr^ngAfricanPop, New York: Quill. Kitby*Kenneth, 1985. The Caribbean As A Musical Region, In Sidney Mintz; & Salty Price (eds.). C:aribheun C;ontotdrs. Baltimt)re: johns Hopki~~flliniversity Press, pp. 181-2 118. 1993. The Strange Career of ""Obeah"":Defining Magical Bower in the West Indies. Unpt~blishedpaper3 Institute of Global Studies in Culture, b w e r & History, fohns Hopkins University, Baltimore. Kitby*Kenneth & EIitiott Leib, 1986. Kti~nina,the Hc~\ueiliteChzxrch and the Emergence of ltastafidxian Traditional Music in Jaxnaica.lamaica It?t-trrtf&l 19(3):22-28. Kisl~ton,Derek, 1986. Blnck FIet~rt1Mgn: A journey itrttn Rusiu, London: Chatto & Windzxs, Nosld, Gec~rge,Wafton Johnson & SShila S. Walker (cds.). 11979. Rfrimn Christiunily: Patterns ofReEigiozas Ct~rtt+nuiy, New k r k : Academic Press. Nurman, Teriy, 1985. Irie! A Shout of Jay for Canadiasl K e ~ a cjlke , Mtisic Scene 341:12. Caxnphell, Hoxace, 1980. Elastafari: Culture of fXesistance, Race and Glass 22(1):1-22. New Jersey:African World Press. 1987. Rasta und Resista~z~e. Cashmore, Ernest Ellis, t 98t .A&er the ltastas. New C;omurrulziry:173-8 1. 1984, The Xustufari(zras,London: Minority Rights Group, Chambers, lain, 198.5, Urhun Rhyt-izvns:Pop Music rnvtd Popular Culture. New York: St. Martin's Press. CLarke, Peter B,, 11 986, Bluck I'artzdise: The 8aslaf;"rianhil~vemeni.Wrellingborou%fi:The Aquarian Press. Uavis, Stephen, 1982. Reggae Iraternaiiorzml, New York: Kogner & Bernhard. t "388, Alpha Biondy: Africa" Eleggae Superstar. The Reggae arzd Afiicrilrz Ber~t 7(1):32--35. Fields, Karerz E., 198.5,Reviv~tlauzd Rebdliouz in C:okoniab Cent-rulAfrica, Princeton: Princeton University Press, Forsythe, Denxlis, 1980, W s t Illdial1 Culture through the Prism of Elastafarianisxn. Grihbwrt Quarterly 25(4):62-8 1. Gardr~er~ Jirn, 1991. Lucky Dube: Ready for Keggde. The B e ~ 10(1):29-33. t Grass, Randall F., 1984. Reggae In the Promised Land. Tke Village Voice 29:62. Guilbault, focetyne. 1993. Zc~ttk:\Vorl~IMusic in the West Indies, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Hamelink, Cees T., 11983. C;~ltlrum2Auzorzom~~ z ^ C;Ecjhr;ll ~ C~ommu~zz'c~~tion. New York: Longman, Harnid, Ansley, 1981. A Pre-Capitalist Mode of Production: Ganja and the Rastafarians in San Fernando, Trinidad, P11.D. Dissertatiorz, Coltimbia Universitp New York. Hannerz, Utf? 1987. The W r t d in Cretliization,Afiicc~57:546-59, 1992. Cull-tlnrl Complexrhy Studicrs in the Social Clrgunizulior~ofiMeanitzg. New York: Golt~mbiaUniversity Press. Hatukeswooci, Witliam G., 1983, IW'I Ras Tafari: Identity and the Rasta Movement In A~~cMand, MA. Thesis, Department of Anthropology, University of AucMand. Hehdige, Dick, 197-1,Eleggae, ltouts, and Rudies, In Stuart Wall hk Tony Jefferson (eds,), Resistance Il'hr~t~gh Rituals: Y014thSzntbcult~re~ in Post-\Var Britain, London: Ht~tchinson, 1987, Cut- 'MJMix: C~lturg~ Identz'ts and G~rihbmni;2/1ti~ic.NW York: Methuexz, Jules-Rosette, Rennetta fed.), 1979. Tke New XeEigiorts ofAfric~.New Jersey:Ablex. Klass, Morton, 1991. Singing tvit-fi Sai Bubtlr: The Politilrs ofRe.vz'it.ulimrlonin Trinidczd, 13ouider: Westview Press. La Narre, Wreston, 11972.2'he I'eyor-e Chit, New York Schockea Book. (Fourth ed.)

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Lanternari, Vittorio, 1963, The Religiorzs of the C>;c)j~resse~l; A Study clfzlndern *Wessiarzic Cults, New York: Alfred A. Knoyf. Lewis, Witliam P,,, 1993. Soul Rebels: The Ruslufirrlri, Prr~spectHeights XL: Waveland Press. Link, ltuth, 19'79. ftebet Music Spreads the ~ ~ ~Severt r dD .q s 30: 10, Mattelart, A., 1983. Trurzsrz~ltz'onulsurtd tlze Tizird World: The S t r w l e for Czkltzdre. South I-ladley MA: Bergin 2% Gal~ey. Nagachima, %>skitoS., Rastafarian Music in Contefnporary farnaica.A Study of the Socioreligious Music of the Rastafarian Movement in Jamaica. Tokycl: Institute for the S t ~ ~ d y of Langualges and Culttlres of Asia-Africa, Ranger, Terence O,, 11986. Religious Movements and Politics in Sub-Saharan Africa. r2frican Studies Revleliv 29:1-69, Sansone, Livio, 19884, . . . Artd Leisure Erne is Mine: The C W Qk"ozrli-r ~ ofAmslerdawz itz Snciid Welfilre2Voc~rrltE~ritzl Edzdc~rrltEonand l,eisure Erne. Amsterdam: AEiJ;elingBesraursinforrnatie van de Gerneente Amsterdam. Savishinsky; Neil J., 1993. Kastafari in the Pmmised Land: The Sprad of a Jamaican Socioretigious Movement and Ifs Music and Cuittxre among the Youth of Ghana and Senegarnbia. Ph.I.2, Dissertation, Columbia University; New York, l"34 Rastafari in the Promised Land: The Spread of a Jamaican Socio-religious Movesnent arnong the Yc~uthof West Africa, Afrz'cu~Studies Reviellr 37(3). [in press] Schiller, Herbert X., 1977. Gomurrul~icadonand Cutrur~~l Llourrinntiori, New York: Pantheall Books. Etkeover of Public E ~ p r ~ s a oNew ~ z , York: Oxford 1"39. Culture2h . : The Corpor~~te University Press. Sesndj, Leachirn T., 1980. Kastafari: From Religion to Social Theory. C:aribhl?~iaQuarterly 26641322-3 1. hilusz'c in Anzen'cu: I"Y0m the S~~irir tinls, MinstreEs, ~ n d Sllaw, Arnold, 1986. Black Poj~till~r Ragtime trz Soul. IJisco, anti ]l$-lfop. New York: Schirrner Books. M~sic.New York: Basil Blackwell. Street, John, 11386. Rebel Rock: The Rzll'lics t?flfor~tklc;lr Suxidkfer, Bengt G.M., 1% 1. Bavztu Prq>het-sin South Afric~t.London: Oxford Ulliversity Press. Tafari, JabuIani I., 1980. The Rastafari-Successc~rs of Marcus Garvey, Garibbeavz Quurterlj~ 26(4):1-12. t 13, Trepper, Bcth, 1984. Skanking with the S~ipai.2'he Reggae arzcl Africarz B e ~3(2): Wallerstein, Xmmantrel, 1979, Tke CJupitulist IVorId-1l:cnrtolny:Essays, Carnhridge: Cambridge University Press. Wailis, ltager & Rister MaIm, 1984. Rig Souncisfiom Small Peoples: The i;2/1tisI'~ Indlilst-ry in SrfztlU Guntn'es, London: Constable and Company* Witvliet, Theo, 1985,A Place in the Szlrz: Ll'bemtion Theology in the Tlzird World. New Yof-k: Qrbis Rooks. Wriston, Waiter 13., 1992, The Twilight-of Sn~jereignly:Ikzw the Infi>rmution Techuzolngy Is Trarzsfnrmiuag Our World, NW tiiork: Charles Scribner's Sons. Zindi, Fed, 11385. Roots Rocking irz Ximl.luhwe. Harare: Mambo Press.

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9

On hunders and h Some Factors in the Development of New Religious Movements'

The developmental course of new religious movements is influenced by the founder" personality and by a series of changing ccrnditions that inevitably accompany growth, The way in which the founder and staff respond to these conditions helps determine whether religious motPernents achieve stability or undergo the dramatic and unpredicted changes of course and fortune that characterize such movements as Rajneeshism, tlze Children of Cod, Christ Commtzne, and the Roplte" Temple. -Authar"sAbract

T H I S A R T E C I . E I S A B O U T S O M E O F T H E FACTORS affecting the way new religious movements develop during the period when their hunders can influence the shape tlzese movements assume. My focus will be on the actions of the founders and their chief disciples. I will concentrate on two sets of factors bearing on the dewlopmental course of new religious movements. The first is a psychological factor, ancl tlze second is purely sociological. X make no claim that these two factors are ""the b y " to explaining how new religions develop, X claim only that they are important enough to be singled out for systematic study because they help determine whether new refigions achieve stability; and they are usually of critical impcrrtance in understanding the dramatic and unpredtcted turns of events that characterize some new movements. The first factor I will consider is the personal characteristics of the founder and the other leading actors in establishing and implementing the policies of a new movement. I refer to the generat ysychnlogtcal make-up of tlze principal players,

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including their e n e r g levels, their prctpensity for ""burn-out," their temperament, tlzeir steadiness or volatility; their basic goats, their mode of relating to different kinds of peoyte, and their thresholds for yielding to variorzs temptations, Of ctturse, in large or medium-sized grctups the personafity of any individual member usually makes little difference in how tlze system operates, But people who occupy pcrsitions of authority make decisions that affect the group as a whole, It is nornecessary to subscribe to a ""great man" "eory of L-xistoryin order to assert tlzat the idiosyncratic dispositions of autlzority figures can Izave effects that reverberate throtzghout the systems they command and in some cases even well beyond those systems, Any theory of group Iife thahopes to explain hctw concrete gmuys actually develop over time must make this assertion one of its axioms.

The Persond Factor Let me illustrate the importance of the personal factor with some exampltes from the history of new religious movements, Cctnsider Krishnamurti, who died several years ago after a fuXf tife as a religious and philosophical teacher. Krishnamurti could have founded a. religious movement if he had wanted to. In fact, when he was only a boy, his famrtrzs spcrnsors in the Theosophical Society proclaimed him the next Miortd-Teacher, the successor to Krishna, Buddha, and Jesus Cl-xrist, and tlzey presented hirn with a ready-made organization over wl~ichto preside. Krishnamurti probably ccruld have attracted a following at least as large as that of the late Bhatg~ranShree Rajneesh, who once did him the honor of declaring lzim to be the only other enliglztened being (besides Izimself) of the yresent age. But Krishnamurti rejected all efft~rtsto turn hirn into the charismatic hero he coufd have become (Vas, 1972 :1-3). He infftrenced thousands, but his organization was small and lze dismuraged discipleship. Or consider the far more dramatic case of Sabbatai Sevi, a Jew born in the Turkish-dominated Middle East in 1626, Gershom SchoIern, who has written the definitive history of Sevi's movement (lf)73),has concluded tlzat he was manicdepressive, subject to long spells of passivity and dejection as well as to periods of etatton and spiritual effervescence, He might never have become transhrmed from a mere curiosity into a. charismatic leader, however, had not Nathan, a respected young Jerusalem rabbi, recognized him, in 1666, as the long-awaited Messiah. Severaf weeks later, Sevi acknowledged his messianic status and ernbarkeci on a ten-month yreachit~gtour of- tlze l3iasyora during which he persuaded masses of Jews that he was indeed the Messiah. In true charismatic fashion Sevi challenged existing religious customs, proclaimed new ones, ancl made startling revelations and yroplzedes, No other development had created such ferment in the entire Jewish community since the destruction of the temple in the .)leaf 70. Jews were electrified early in 1667 w11en Sevi announced that he would snatch the crown from the Sultan's Izead in Constantinoplte, Duly ft3rewarned, the Turks tt>c->k hirn prisoner, and a few months later Sevi was cafIed before the Sultan" privy councii and told that he must decide

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immediately bemeen proving his divine mission with a miracie, being tortured to death, or converting to Islam. If lze had perfc3rmeci a miracle or if lze had chosen death, it is virtually certah that the subsequent history of Judaism wi>uld have been much different from the history we knctw, If Sevi had martyred himself-,his movement would uncioubtedly have survived, and judaism might still be badly spltit over the question of his messianic status. But Sevi chcrse to conwrt to Islam. Despite Nathank effi~rtsto salvage the messianic mission with kabbalistic arguments, the choice to convert effectively ended tlze movement as an important force within Judaism.l A less devastating example of a leader" undoing much of his own work in the face of hardship is the unexpected abandonment of his Oregon commune by B h a p a n Sl~reeRajneesh in the fall of 1985, an abandonment that left thousands of devoted foflc>wersstranded and led to the collapse of the commtzne itself and the scattering of its members. What provoked B i l a ~ a n "flight was the news, leaked to him by an infc~rmer,tl-tat lze was about to be inciicted by a federal grand jury on charges of immigration fraud. Another sort of man wijtzld have chosen to stay and fight the charges in court. Rajneesh had excellent l a v e r s , and the prospect of rnartyrdorn at the hands of federal officials miglzt have given lzis motPement a significant boost. He ccruld have remained at his ranch on bail while the litigation dragged on for years. Instead, he chose to flee the country, in secret e r of:darhess; anci when that plan faileci, he accepted a sentence of and ~ ~ n dcover immediate deportation in exchange for a yltea of guilty.". Krislznarnurti corxld have fc>uncIeda religious movement, but clzose not to; Sabbatai Sevi trieci to found one but destroyed it by preferring life to martyrdom. Faced with opyirsition from without, Jim Jones mobilized his followrs fbr the uftimate act of defiance; Rajneesh, howevet; retired to India, changed his name to Oslzo, and died a natural death in 1990.

As Movements Grow

We now turn to the second factor, which is purely sociological in character, This factor, with its many ramifications, intrudes itself as an objective fact, a "material reatity,'"~ a consequence of an increase in the sheer size and complexity of a movement. There are three sociological aspects of organizational growtl-t that founders and others in strategic yirsitions must take into account in charting the ctturse of new religious movements. The first aspect concerns tl-te fact that as a movement increases in skze the ordinary member can have less frequent and less intimate access tcr the perscm of the founder. When a new religious movement mntains only a handhi of disciples the founder can know each of tl-tem we1 and can communicate with them knowledgeably and directly When Rajneesh began his career as a guru. he lived in an apartment in Bombay where he was easily accessible to his sanrzyasirrs, who often sat on

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his bed and engaged him freely in conversation. A11 of them were able to experience his care and wisdom firsthand, as was the case with the disciples of:Jesus. Wow it is likely that many, perhaps most, new religious mt>-vementsnever grcm beyond this original circie of intimate disciples. They remain of onfy local signtficance either by design or because they fall apart within a k w years, and they pass tznnoticed by st->ciologistsand historians. If new religious movements wish ttr gr~tw,they must prcrvide attractive substitutes for an ongoing, face-to-face retationship with tlze fauncler. A common way of doing so involves an enhancement of the charismatic qualities of the founder by symbolic means. No doubt some fcjunders, like Sabbatai Sevi, have extraordinary personalities even before they become religious leaders. On the other hand, it is likely that a great many founders do not have truly untzsual perscrnalities. And, in fact, some ftjunders make only mrrdest claims about themselves in the earliest days of their movements. Moses David, the founder of tlze movement tlzat became the Children of God, began lzis career as an ordinary evangelist, He had a few novel ideas of his own but he claimed no special source of inspiration, and he farrght: a fairly standard brand of evangelical Protestantism. Xt was only later, when he had gathered a following of: lziypie drop-outs, that he advanced his claim to have unique insight into God's will (Wllis, 1982:?6). rim Jones's career s h o w a broadly similar pattern of the enhancement of charismatic qualities in the wake of the movement's growth.. The career of Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh provides an excellent iflustration of how charisma can be enhanced to accommodate grcwth and to facilitate the objectives of the movement. Alt11ough Kajneesh was interested in refigion fmm an early age, he was slieptical of the claims of most established faiths. {In fact, some of his published comments on religious systems cotrfd have been written by an eighteenth-century rationalist.) He became a t~niversitylecturer in philosoplzy in his natix India, After a run-in with a top-level administrator he decided to resign from the university and pursue a career as a guru, Xn his earliest days in this new capacity he had black hair ancl a bushy moustaclze and he was referred to as acharya, or spiritual teacher. As Rajneesh's work expanded, his charismatic qualities expanded as well. In 1972, lzis favorite catlsin, who was also his laver at the time, itlquired as to whether he might be ""e&ghtenedP Rajneesh reptied that he was indeed enlightened and that this experience had occurred almost 20 years earlier, though he had only ~ v e a l e dit, in strictest secrecy, to a lzandful of people (Joshi, 1982:64). Not long after this r e ~ l a t i o nhe adopted the exalted title of Bhngwnn, which means ""blessed one," By the time he opened his first ashram, in Poona, he had assumed the appearance of an Inclian lzoXy man, His hair, which seemed to turn gray otrernight, now grew long, and a f-lowingbeard replaced his moustache. As more and mare people were attracted to the movement, it was nct longer feasible for an ordinary sun~zyasineven to ask spontaneous questions of:Bhagwan at durshun. As the communicative distance widened betwen him and his followers, he became ""pesent" ectvrytnere in the movement by symbolic means. He altowed himself to be photographed frequently, aancl pictures of lzirn were yromi-

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nently displayed throughout the ashram. As the possibility h r prolonged closeness to him grew remote, tlze significance of occasional closeness was symboficatfy magnified. Everystne who attended his lectures had to tzndergo a security check fctr drugs and for body odors, and no one was allowed to cough during his tectures. Rajneesh"~special stature was also symbcrfically expressed in the Pact that his grrwns were white, a ccrlor his sanryasins were not allowed to wear. Later, after the move to America, his gowns became increasingly magnificent, and he acquired more tlzan 90 Rolls Rayces, one of wl-rich lze displayed each afternoon in a ceremonial drive along a road lined with devotees. But just as important was the reputation B h a p a n achieved for guiding the spiritual growth of his followers, whetlzer they interacted with him directly or not. Hugh Milne (1986:'77) was convinced, for exampie, that tfhabwcrfn had ccrntrived by ncrnmaterial means to lure him back into his presence just at the mrrment that Milne had decided to leave the movement, And Kate Strelley (1987:28t), another ex-surzp2~sirs,reports that many at the ashram in Poona could ""Eeel" "~hagwank absence the night he paid a visit to a lcrcal hospital, even though no one saw him leave the grounds, Rajneesh" charismatic radiance became so intense that those who were drawn ta him felt privileged simply to get an occasional gfimpse of him at a distance. He could ramble during lectures, he could tell anti-Semitic jokes to audiences containing many Jewish admirers, he could contradict himself; and lze could even stop speaking aftogetlzel; as lze did for a time, withorzt diminishing his charismatic stature, The Emergence of Two "WtjrLds"

An unavoidable by-product of the fact that growth restricts ordinary members" access to the founder is the division of the movement into two "worfdsP namely the world of fctllowers and the world of the fc~underand the founder's most intimate circle, The fctrmer become increasingly isolated from the dq-to-day concerns of the founder and the it~nermostcadre. Wttlz this division into different worlds, the ysrssibitity arises that the typical information, perceptions, and preoccupations of the occupants of these two wctrlds will diverge. Sometimes " e x galicy decisions of tlze innermost world come as a complete surprise to members, and to observers who have no real access to the inner circle. In the spring of 19'78, for example, the governing board of Christ Commune, the Jesus Movement gmup investigated by fames TeRicfiardson anci lzis colleagues ( 1979), resolved a power struggle b e ~ e e nitself and the founder by dismissing the founder. Soon afterwards, the board discctvered that it was unable to agree on how to steer the movement, anci so it decided, in effect, to dissolve it. These developments at the top caught the membership compietely off guard and resulted in a great deal of bewilderment and demoralization (Peterson, f 990). fudghg onfy by the success of its f a ~ f i u n genterprises anci the high morafe of it?;members, Christ Commune was a stable organization with a promising hture. Kate Stretley 1982321) and otlzers have reported that nct more than a handful of the people itlvolved in the Rajneeslz ashram in Poona had any it~klingthat

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plans w r e afoot to move the whole operation to the United States in 198X . judith Mary Weiglztman (1983:126-27) has provided an excellent account of the different worlds that emerged in JimJones's People's Temple: It is as thougl~there were two circles, moving in oppcrsiee directions, rotating arurrnd a single ceater. . . . The elite and [the Planning Commission] were follcrwing Jones because he offered them power In a very concrete sense. The rank and file, too, foilt~wedJones because he gave them power, though in a w1-y digere~ltsense,

As members beccrme isolated from the inner circle where ycrlicy is made, the founder becomes insulated from the corrective strictrrres of ordinary life, This tendency can be illustrated by drllvvtng once mare on the history of tl-te Kajneeslz motPement. Mdhen Raj~leeshw s still a uni-trersitylecturer he had trr face the ycrssibility that someone wotzld challenge his arguments. In shcrrt, he operated in the ordinary wctrld of verbal give and take, But as he became the center of a growing religious movement he became removed from this warld, He interacted only with his inner circle and with selected sanryasins and visitors in brief enccrunters on terms suitable to himself-,He therefore could expect that no one would express anger to lzirn in his presence, that everyone would agl-ee with what lze said, or disagree in the most agreeable manner yossible.4 And he cttufd expect that those around him would make an effort to carry out every wish he might express* A closed, cocoon-like environment sac11 as this gives a pampered ltrzder free rein trr entertain a 1 sorts of ideas and indulge all sorts of wishes with apparent impunity. Although in this sttua"eiczn, as with alI others, psychological factors determine what whims arise and how strongly they are resisted, almost everyone occasionally has sexual impulses or impulses tcr ycrssess something of great value or tcr punish enemies, In a protected environment a leader can set events in motion that would be shocking to the membership if dismvered or could jeopardke the movement" very existence. Swami Muktananda advocated celibacy, bat his secret vice was the seduction of teen-age girls in his ashram (Rodarmor%1983).Roshi Baker, of the San Francisco Zen Cente~;took advantage of lzis position to extract sexual favcrrs from his pupils and to use Center funds to support a lmurious life-style (Butler, 1983). And Ma Anand Slleela, Rajneesh's second-in-command during Oregcrn commune days, insl;zlled secret bugging devices all over this syrdwlhg ranch, poisoned a hostile county commissic>ner,and infected mrrre than seven-hundred residents of Wasco county with salmonella bacteria in the largest single outbreak of this disease in United States lzistory. It is not necessary to suppose that founders and their lieutenants are by nature more antiscrcial than other people; all that is necessary is to suppose that people are more likely to inclr~lgetheir antisocial desires if they believe they witl not be detected or punished."

As a religious movement grclws, a third internal differentiadon comes into being, namely a differentiation between the world of the FouncZer and the world of rl-tose to whom tlze founcler delegates the chores of keeping the movement going. As

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any student of organizations knows, growth requires leaders to rely on other people to get vitaaf activities accomplished. If a religious movement is to suwlaive, a division of labor must develop at the toy, which means that the &under bemmes dependent on a staff for information and the performance of necessary work, and t l ~ estaff becomes depencient on tlze founder for policy directkes and for serving as the spiritual center of the movement. At the very least, the basis ftrr the differentiation of founder and toy staff is that the founder cannot know everything necessary to keep the various sectors of the organization operating. Whereas the founder tends to think in terms of overalf possibilities, the staff tends to think in terms of practicalities, This divergence of perspectives, wl~ichemerges in organizations af all kinds, is tikety to pose a yarticull~rfyserious problem to the viability of new religious movements because founders of religious movements tend to have, or develop, at least some degree of charisma in Mdeber" sense of the term, which means that in addition to having an immense amount of personat arrthority, they also tend to be visionaries, to be hostile to traditions, rules and routines, and to be indifferent to money or imprudent in its use. Of course, not every founcier of a new religious movement is a pure charismatic leader in the ideal-typical sense, and some founders?charismatic qualities may consist chieRy of an ability to inspire devotion and obedience, Even so, charisma is a much more important factor in new religious mtr-vements than it is in other kinds of founder-led organizations such as commercial enterprises. As Weber pointed out C 5 968:246-54), charisma, especially "pure" charisma, is incompatible with the requirements of any kind of social organization with prospects for long-term survival. Although cl~arismacan be a truly revolutionary force, revcrlutitsns cannclt produce stable orztcomes withorzt a considerable amrrunt of "'rotztinization"-that is, the instituting of a workable normative order that makes prcrvisic3n for economic sustenance, physical security, and the other mundane needs of life. The human imagination i s virtually unlimited, but the number of feasible ways of accomplishing the goals the imagination sets is strictly limited, And some goals simply cannot be realized at all. X t makes good sense to suppose tlzat in the gl-eat majority af cases the top staff of new religious motPements develop an interest in rorztinization by virtue of their responsibility for getting things done. They may be ruthless, as Sheela was, but they devetop a concern far meeting the material needs of the movement.

Founders and Their Staffs Roy Mrjtfis has devised a usebl framework for identifying four logically pc~ssible ways the founder of a new religion can respond to the rcdutinizing processes within the movement. Waflis developed the framework while trying to explair~ tlze bizarre and destructive behavior of Uavid Berg, who founded the Children of to understanding God. I consider Wallis's framework an important contrib~~tion the developmental processes of new religious mtr-vements.

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To put Wallis" framewctrk succinctly, the founder can respond to rout'rnizing processes by: (1) encouraging them, ( 2 ) acquiescing in them, ( 3 )resisting tlzem, or (4) being displaced by them, He cites Mary Baker Eddy (Christian Science) as an example of encouragement; Guru Maharaj-Jli (Divine Light Mission), in one phase of his leadership, as an example of acquiescence; t>avid Berg (Children of God) as an example of resistance; and Ceorge Jeffreys (Eiim Yahernacle) as an example of displacement f 1982:1 15-36; 1984:109-1 8). In my opinion, Wallis's framework involves more than simply tlze response of the founder to the processes of routinization, if rrnly because response ntzmber 4, disgiaclement, is nooreally a ""response" at all; ratl~er,it represents a successful initiative on the part of the staftlzat is provoked, perhaps, by the fc~uncier'sbbeavior. Thus, the framework is most fruitfully seen as a way of conceptualizing ~zodes of interaction between founder and staff concerning the process of routinization. At bottom, the interactions these modes identiq focus on the issue of authority-that is, what the basic polides and operating norms of the movement are to be. In two ~ r fthe fbur modes the founder" authority prevails, and in two the staff" authori.t-yprevails, In two modes founder and staff cotiahorate, and in two modes they are at odds. Two modes promote the process of rautinization required for the survival crf the mt>wment,and two modes are fraught with conflict and the possibility of sudden change, Over time, of course, a particular tnteractive process may change from one mode to another or exhibit some elements of various modes,

CoElcabomtiorz: The CEO Mirz will first cttnsider the modes that involve cttlfabctrat-ionb e ~ e e nfounder and staff. If the founder's autllority prevails, we Izave the case Wallis calls "mcouragement," which be ilustrates with the example of Mary Baker Eddy; I suspect that good examples from recent times are Maharishi Mahesh Yogi and the Rev. Sun Myzlng Moon. Although their missions and their religious perspectives are radically different, they have both presided over a developmental process that seems reasonably stable, if not spec~cutarlysuccessfuf, and they both seem to be in charge. They are like entrepreneurs with novel prodrtcts and bold visions who turn orzt also to be acccrmyiished chief executive offfcers of an expanding firm. In the summer of 1971 I was able to observe: one such founder, Maharishi Mahesh b g t , as he interacted with a small group of well-known scientists in the quarters he occupied during his Second International Symposium on the Science of Creative IntelIigence, held in Arcata, California. His posture, his bearix~g,his voice, his clothing, his extraordinary eyes, anci tlze ceremonies surrounding his person, all ccrntributed to the impression that he is an eminently spiritual figure, Later, reflecting on what trtok place that afternoon in Arcata, it occurred trt me that tlzere was another side to Malzarishi, a side more like that of a shrewd chief exectztive. With twinkling eyes and breathy voice he had attended to the long-term advancement of his movement in a calculating manner, We dispatched a lieu-

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tenant to a foreign country to find a wealthy magnate to help plant the mcjvement there. He tried to persuade a noted scientist to declare publicly at a fortlzcoming international ccrnference that the laws of the science of creative inteffigence are identical to the laws of physics. And later, when I asked him how well he thougl~tthe highly individualistic pitch he was then making for Transcendental Meditation wcrufd go aver in the Soviet Unicsn, he giggled and said, in effect, ""Look, will market our product another way there," "and then he proceeded to tell me how,

Collaboration: The "Hownr~1'Hughes" Efect Collaboration betwen a founder and the routinizing processes represented by the staff can also occur when the founder declines to play?cor is persuaded by the staff not to play, an active rofe in policy matters, The founder acquiesws, knowingly or not, in what the staM is doing. As WitlXis points out, Gtxru Maharaj Ji turned his attention away from administrative matters for a time, and George Jeffreys simply ignored them. Although in his silent phase Rajneesh may l~ave pfayed an active role behind the scenes, he may also lzave had his moments of passivity and dejection. Hugh Milne, his former bodyguard, repcrrts being summoned into his presence unexpectedly one night, only to discover that Rajneesh was under the inRt~enceof nitrous oxide, ""Suddenly,'" Milne writes, ""Xelt sorry for Bhagwany and thc~rzght,"You want to get out of this huge mess that has taken you over, this enormous organization that has swallowed p u up."": . It seemed as if tlze fables had been turneci, and that I was the free spirit and he was the prisoner of his own creation."AnB then Rajneesh, his speech slurred, said the following: "I am no relieved that X don't have to pretend to be enfightened anymore, Poor Krishnamurti . . . lze still lzas to pretend'YMilne, 1986:232). Religious founders, like any other people in the public eye, can become hemmed in, constrained by their very success, They can become bored, petulant, or self-inciulgent, or they can experience ""burn-outW";nd as long as tlzey keep to themselves and haw a staff to protect them they can do all this with impunity and with ncr harm to the movement. An extreme example of a founder" passive Etreat into total dependence on a staff is tlze case of the late aeronautic engineer and business tycoon, Howard Hughes, who in his later years became a protected and pampered drop-out. A less extreme example of a similar retreat frctm active leadership may be the case of the late L. Ran Hubbard, who fc~unciedDianetics and the Church of $cientc>logy,Long before his ""of6cialndeath, he had delegated most of the operational authoriv of the Church to a cadre of trusted lierrtenants, so that he could spenci his time pursuing other itlterests.

Conflict: The Founder Prevczils The other WCImrrdes of relation between founder and staff inwrlve a conflict between the WC),Wallis's detailed account of Davld Berg's conduct as founder of

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the Children of God is a classic case of the mode he calls ""rsistance," in which the fc3uncier keeps tl-te upper hand in his struggle with tl-te routit~izingtendencies within the mrrvement. Other recent examples, as Mdallis suggests, are Jim )ones and Chuck Dederich. Although at1 these men had to rely on lieutenants to help run their movements, they really trusted no one, Tl-tey insisted on controlling everything that went on. Berg, in particular, seemed keenly aware that too much attention to mafiers of administrative rcrutine might iead to complacency and a cooling of:zeal. Among the tecl-tntquesof control used by founders of tlzis sort are loyalty tests, expulsions, playing leading members off against one another, frequent shifts in policy, appeals to the members over the heads of the staff; public humiliations and confessions, the use of violence against enemies both internal and external, and changes of: physical location. Movements like this exist in a state of chronic turmoil and tzsually cannot survive after the ft3underk departure. In certain cases founders have become so exasperated with the attitudes and behavior of: their staffs, anci even of: their followers as a whole, tl-tat tl-tey have departed on their own ini"tative. A cfassic but little-kncrwn example of a fc>under's abdication is Linda Meissner? rejection of the large Jesus Pectple following she had gathered in Seattle in the early 1970s. Meissner, an intensely charismatic figtzre with high expectations for herself: and her followrs, concluded that those around her were sin-~ply too soft and too wedded to the world as ibexlsts to be the doers of God's will in tlzese times, and so she left them, quite suddenly, to their own devices and joined forces with Berg's Children of God. Meissner ""prevailed" by exyefling everpne at once-----includingher own husband-and starting ewer again. Anci when she departed, her movement collapsed."

The other nctncttllaborative made of relation betwen founder and staff inwives what a f l i s calls the founcier's displacement tl-trougl-tthe intervention of: the administrative apparatus or otl-ter members of an inner circle. It is t ~ n d o ~ ~ b t e d l y true that at one time or another the staff has wished that the ft3underk bbeavior were metre regular and predictable. Rajneesh sometimes sent his staff into a frenzy of preparations to carry out a project for whiclz they were totally tlnprepared. In IJoona, for instance, he once announced publicly that the whole ashram m u f d travef the very next day to visit the proposed site of a new mmmune, As it turned out, tlzis project required the transporting and the feeding of some seventhousand people on less than twenty-four hours notice (Strelfey, 1987:268). Surety, time after time a lieutenant of some holy person has muttered, ""X we could Just manage to get him sedated, life would be a tot easier arounci here.'" It cc~uldwl be that now and again the staff!;of religic>usfounders have dcrne that-or worse. A bunder who has disappeared or has died in an apparently honarable manner is preferable to one who makes life miserable for the staff by disrupthng operations or by insisting on disastrous shifts of policy: So far as we know, however, the most common form of displacement involves the expufsion of the

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founder by the staff. George Jeffreys, of EIim Tabernacle, Xtcrbert Be Grimston, of The Process, anci fohn Higgins, of Christ Commune, were displaced this way. Explusion cannot be acco3mplished without grave ccrnsequences for the m(>%rnent unless a significant number of lieutenants or gate-keepers agree to do it and have the ability to carry it out. If tlze founder has adopted the leaderslzip style of a Llavid Berg, the staff may be too kagmented and susyiciotzs of one another to form a coalition, Moreover, expuision is nott an attractive option if the &under repains control of the physical fac2ities and other material assets of the movement. Another fc3rmidable crbstacle to expulsion is the charisma of the founder. The more solidly established the founder" ccfaim to unique spiritual authority the harder it will be to form the coalition needed to carry out an expulsion, and the harder it will be tcr legitimate the dirty deed in the eyes of the members. Kajneesh sometimes treated his fc~llowersshaWily, but his charismatic stature vas so great that, aside from a rash of important defections, he was able to command the loyalty of a skzellible remnant of followers even after lzis Right from the Oregon commune. Williarn Irvine" charismatic stature was also great, but he was successfully ousted by his staff. Irvine, wl-to founded an anti-institutional. sect of Christians in Irelancl in f 897, claimed that it lzad been revealed to lzim that verses 8 througlz f 0 of the tenth chapter of Matthew were still binding on Christians today. These verses command them to go witness withctut i'goId, silver, or copper to fill your purse7%nciwith "no pack for tlze road, no seconcl coat, no slzoes, na stick'" (New English Bible, 1971). Irvine was a pcrwerfuf and inflammatory preacher who within the short space of ten years had sent his staff, called "workers," df over the British Isles, Europe, South Africa, North America, ancl Australia, and was building a growing and controxrsial mowment. Irvine enhanced his charismatic stature in 1903 by proclaiming the "Living Witness Dactrine,'khich hefd that he ""was tlze Aciarn of our time,'' and that "only those who responded to lrvine and his wcjrkers w r e saved" oCI""arker and Parker, 1982:f8). In other words, no one could be swed Mrithout hearing the truth from Xrvine himself or from one of his workers. Some of the workers had trouble accepting tlze new teaching, but the great majority did accept it, perhaps because it reinforced their own authcrrity as w X l as Irvine's. But a few years later Irvine had yet anatlzer revefation, anci this time he went too far for mast of his lieutenants, He proclaimed that the commands in the Gospef of Matthew were not longer valid. He declared that the age of grace wc)utcl enci in August of 1914, that Clzrist would slzortly come in judgment, and that he, frvine, had been chosen to be one of the two witnesses named in the Book of Xtevelatictn, with the power to cause drought and piagues (Parker and Parker, 1982:62), In short, Irvine unciercut the entire mission of his workers in a dramatic shift of doctrine and policy that rivaled the twists and turns of David Berg. But charismatic as he was, Xfvine did not succeed in altering the mission of his movement. His workers had a t~nitythat Berg's never lzad, Their problem-an awesome one-was to destroy Irvine's charisma while preserving the revelations that had provided the movement with its reason for being.

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The workers declared that Imlne ""kd lost the Lord's anointing" and banned him from all assemblies. But they also lzad to devise a new source of authority for the mo.1~ementkvery special brand of Christianity. They did this by an ingenious fa'alsification of their own history, in which Irvinek rote was obliterated. And arrneci with this new lzistory anci the unity to enforce a ban on Xrvine, the workers declared that the founder" name was not to be mentioned within the mc>vement. We was excised frcrm the shared memory of the organlzatitzn he had fc7unded. Having expelled Xrvine, the staff comyfcted the process of routinizatinn already tznder way. They banned inflammattrry preaching, encorzraged a dull style of wc3rship, and avoided publicity by refashioning themsetves as a secret society, Xrvine? r o u t i n i ~ dmovement exists to this day as an "invisible cl~urclz'bithan American membership larger than that of several religions that are much better known {Crow 1.964:1.5).

Founders and the Future of Their Movements X conclude with a few marks about the founder's role in determining whether tlze movement lasts for more than a generation. fn tlzis matter, too, the founcier's own perspective carries mtzch weight. Some founders may not care whether their movement survives or may not think the matter very important. Founders like Malzarishi Maheslz Yogi anci Bhagwan Slrree Kdjneesh, whose modets are elaborated forms of the tradition of the private guru, may be content to leave a legacy of influence-and in both cases an enormous coXIectiion of bctoks, videotapes, and plzotograplzs-rather than an ongoing organization of devotees or worslzippers. Christians such as David Berg, John Biggins, and William Irvine really believed the "end times" were at hand and that truly long-term planning was pointless. In movements leci by founders like these, planning for the far future, if it occurs at all, is likely to be spearheaded by the staff, Fczunders with leadership styles like that of a David Berg or a Chuck Dederich are usually unabke to build large movements because of their antiyatlzy to routinization and their insistence on knowing everyone and everything in the organization. In addition to fomenting insecurity and divisictn arnang their lieutenants, leaders like these are often reltlc~antto name or train a successor, with the result that the mt>wment splinters into several pieces when the ft3under dies or is incapaci~ated,It turns out to be just a Rash in the pan of history, Xt seems likely tlzat tlze new religious movements with tlze best prospects for longevity are those whose founders want them to last and who, in addition to whatever charismatic qualities they may have, either possess some of the qualities of a good chief executive officer, or are willing to allow their staffs a great deal of initiative in forming yc~licy,Such founders facilitate the process of rotztinization. But such founders do not have ""genuine" "charisma in Mirzber's sense (Weber, 1968:241-45, 1. 111-20), The pure charismatic, Weber tells us, is emotionally volatile, is hrrstiie to eccrnomic rationality and to all routine, and relates to disciples in unpredictabte and intensely personal ways. Pure charisma, if it i s to have

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any impact at all, can assert itself only for a moment before being modified. Pure clzarismatics d o not collaborate with the process of: routinkation. Xf their movements are t o survive and achieve stability, they mtzst have a change trf temper that permits their retinue to take over, o r they must be displaced in some way, They must die early, as Jesus ancl Jcsseyh Smith did, o r be neutralized. Batlz William frvine and the movement he founded were lucky. His church, having expelled him, is a viable movement today. As for Xrvtne, he moved to Palestine to await the comit~gof the Lord, and died tlzere at a ripe old age.

l . Revised version of the presidential address delivered at the 1987 annual meetir~gof the Association for the Sociology of Religion, Chicago, Marion S. Goidman, Edward W. Mann, j. Gordon Melton, Donald Pitzer, and joe V. Peterson have made valuable wggestions, and a few important corrections, which I have incorporated in this revision. 2, It did carxse corzsiderable Instahitity in Jewish commrxnities of centrai and eastern Errrope and may have laid the groundwclrrk for the emergerlce of Hasidism. 3. In additiorz to my own observations and readily avaiiahle rxewspaper accorxnts, I arn i~ldebtedfor my kncjwledge of Iiajneeshism to the work of Edward W. Mann f 1991). See also Gordon (1987), Milrxe f 19861, and Strettey (1987). 4. I personally witnessed the res~3ectft1l,even adulatory, treatment accorded Maharishi Mahesb Yogi by a group of scientific admirers at a small gatheri~~g at his residerlce during the Second International Symposium on the Science of Creative I~ltetligence,held in August 1971 on the caxnptzs of Humbotdt State University in Caiibrnia. This group, which Inclrxded orze Nobel laureate, disagreed with Mal-rarisl-rion a key issue concerxring genetics, but they did so in the mildest and most heIpful rnanner imaginable. See below for more ohservations on this gathering. 5 , The dkision of new religiot~smt)vements into two worlds can also account ft>rwhy some members experience spiritrxal:and psychological benefits at the very same time that their leaders are engaged in a variety of ""dirty tricks." 6. I am indebted to Joe V Peterson for this information.

References Butler, Katy. 59883. "Events are the teacl-rer:wrking throrrgh the crisis at San Francisco Zen Cenred~oevoludonQzt6irterl;v (Winter): 112-23. C r w , Keith W. 1964. ""The invisihIe churcl~."Maaster"s thesis, University of Oregon, Gordon, Jaines S. t 987. The Gt~bcienC;uru: The Strltrtge Jourrrey r$Rht~gwauzShree Rr;ll'newh. Lexingtorz, MA: S ~ p h e Greene. n Joshi,Vasaist. 1982, Il'he A~~ukerzed One. New York: Harper & Kt>w. Manrx, W. E. 1995. Tke Quest for 7bttzE Bliss: A Psycho-Social Perspecjive on Rujtzeesh Movement. Toronto: Canadiall Schojars Press. Milne, Hugh. 19886, Bhlahwfdn,?'he God that-Failed, London: Calibaxl Books. New English Bz'lirle. 1971. New York: Oxford University Press. Oregoni~n,1987,"Sheela: 2 h e w X: was to take the rapY.'TortlandOregortialz (&gust 1):7.

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Parker, Doug and Heien Parker. 1982. The ,?ecret Secf. Pendle Hilt, Australia: privately pubiished, Peterson, Joe V. 1990, "Jesus people: Christ, communes and the corxnterculture of the iate twentiet1.t century,""&$aster%thesis, Northwest Christiatl College. Kichardson, Jarnes l"., Mary White Stewart, and Roberf B, Sirnmonds. 1979. Clrgt-~nize~i Mimclcls: A Stu~1yof U C;;tnternpomry, Yuutfz, C;ommuntzl Furzclumentulist Organiztziirtrz, New Brunswick, N J :Transacdon. Quarter&: Rodarmor, Williarn. 1983, "The secret life of Swami Muktaaanda." C;oev{~lution (Wirtter):104-1 l . Schofem, Gershom, 1973..Stdhbal=(~i Sevz': 2'he Mj~sticalMessiah, 1616-1676. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Strellttr;Kate, 1987. The Ultiz'mcrteGame: The Rise and &l1 clfNhug~v~~n Shree Rujneesh. NW York: Harper & Elaw. Jaico, Vas, h i s S. R, 197 1. Tile Mnd rfJ, Kr&l.rsstumurti,Ro~ni>i\r: 'b2'aflis, Koy. 1982, "Charisma, corninitmeat and control in a new religio~~s mc>vement:' pp. 73-140 in Ray Wallis led.), 4ViElen~iulisrrr und CiFrurismu. RelFast: Queen's University. 1984. 2'he Elemerztary Forms tf the New Religious L@, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Wreber,Max. 11 368. Ecurzonzy arzcl Society Berkeley: University of California Press. Wightrnan, Judith Mary, t 983. Making Sense cf the bnestowtz Suicides: A Sociological PIistory of the People3 Temples. Lewiston, NE Mellen,

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20

Convicted by the Ho The atttoric of Fundamental Baptist Conversion

Born-again Chrisdan belief follows conversion, an inner transfcjrmat-ion that quickens the supernaturat, imagination. Among fundamental Baptists, rhetoric, not ritual, is the primary velzicle of canversion. Mditnesses "speak the gc~syel,"the ramifying discourse and narrative of Christ. Listeners ""cme under conviction" as they appropriate the gospel in their inner speech. At ""the moment of:salvation:" listeners become public speakers of the gospel. They "befieve" in the sense of embracing a narrative tradition that rwords their experience in terms of a personal, triune God who intervenes in daily life and in history. -Author"sbstract

MORAI. M A J O R I T YA N D , M O R E G F N E R A I ~ L Y ,the current political activism among fundamentalists are evidence of a deeper movement within American fundamentalism to abandon its historic separatism from ""the world.'%everend Jerry Falwefl and pastors allied with him are leading a faction of fundamentaXists who are shifting the inner and outer boundaries that separate tlzem from worldly cu1ture.I They are breaking trld taboos that ccrnstrained interactions with nonfundamentalists, daiming new cultural, pc~litical,and social territory, and reftashioning themselves in church sewiees, Sunday school, the family, in bed, on the air, in the political arena, in the news, in tlzeir literature, in Biblestudy groups, cfassrooms, and daily interactions. In the process, they are transforming the hndamentatist mind and community, and altering what it means to be a. fundamentalist. It wotzfd seem a recipe for assimilation were it not for the @actthat fundamentatists are primed.----in a way>armed-for the canfrcrntation. 'fl-reir culture is premisecl on a. commitment to assimifate "the world'kn fundamentalist terms, T H E

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and, indeed, fundamentalists routinely reproduce their cultrrraf modes of interpretation through encountering, reconf-lguring,anci incorporating specimens of alien, wrldly, culture, Most specifically, at the center of the language of fundamentalism is a bundle of strategies-symboltc, narrative, poetic, and rhetorical-for confronting individuals, singly and in groups, strippit-tg them of their cultural assumptions, and inlresting them with a fundamentalist mode of crrganizing and interpreting experience. This btrncile of strategies i s the rhetoric of conversion, and my purpose lzere is to scrutinize a sample of that rhetoric tcr decipher its sources of efricacy. In particufar, how does the language and performance of aixndamentaf Baptist witnessing convict anci convert the unsaved listener? Witnessing, and conversion talk more generally (testieing, evangelizing, gospel preaching, spreading the Miord), is rhetorical in the sense that it is an argurnerzt about the transformation of self that krst souls must undergo, and a ?nethad of bringing about that change in those who listen to it. Fundamental Baptist witnessing is not just a monologue that constitutes its speaker as a culturally specific person; it is also a dialogue that reconstitutes its listeners, My focus is on this latter aspect, on witnessing as the practice, tlze rite, of conversion. To be converted, to be regenerated, to receive grace, to experience religion, to gai~zassurallce, are so many phrases which denote the process, gradual or sudden, by which

a self hitherto divided, and consciorxsly wrorzg, inferior and rrnllapyy, becomes unified and consciousfy right, superior and happy, in consequence of its firmer hold upon religious realities. This at least is what canversioxl signifies in general terms, wliethcr or not we believe that direct divine operation is needed to bring such a moral change about [Jarnes 1906:1601.

Wifliam Tames speculated that those who experienced dramatic conwrsions might have been born with a ""melancbcrly disposition," a ccbranically "divided" mi~zd,or else they had drunk ""tro deep of the cup of bitterness" (l t1906:X58f, Contemporary social scientists have also investigated ""who" mnverts for some indication of "why" they ccrnxrt. The notion is, apparently, that those who ccln-trert are somehow susceptible, vulnerable, in need, so the question is: ""Why, whatwrctng, what's ~rnsettfingtl-tem?'Wr,""What" setting tlzem up, lzow have they been predisposed to ccrnxrt?" Social scientists scrutinize the external psychc>logicaland social conditions of converts looking for ciues, patterns, and causes. They have found evidence in converts' lives of""psycl-tologicaX and sociat stress" "(due to marriage problems, foss of a job, imprisonment, adolescence, dating, serious iitness or accidents, encounters with death, ""role" "rransitions, moving to a new city, going to college, anci so on); ""pevious conclitianit-tg" "(religious upbringing, education, cfass, gender); and ""patterns of interperscrnal inf1uence'"by ccrnwrted kin, friends, mentors). These correlations are not satis+ing explanations, howver, because, among other things, none of tlze circumstances have been found with enough regularity among ccrnxrts, and the same circumstances have been found among nonconwrts with too much regufarityy2

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There is also considerable literature, both poyufar and academic, on how mrious rituaI practices and psyhofogical techniques trigger experiences that result in a ccznxrsion from one wrldview, or mind-set, to another.? Distinct conversion methods (social seclusion, dramatic enactments, bczdify markings, physical stress or pain, fdsting, interrogation, chanting, silence, immobility, and so on) cer-etainly pave the m y for radical shifts in belief and commitment. What this appraach, at least when plied by tlzose w l ~ osee conversion as a kind of brainwashing, tends to overlook is how persuasive in a quite unsensational way the recruiting rhetoric, the language of ccznversion as such, may be, how much it itself contributes to ""dv i d i ~ ~the g ~mind and bringing about conversiczn. The presumyticzn that I think accounts for this oversight, and which in more muted form atso g~zidesm a v social scientific studies, is that "nobody in their right minds w u l d believe this stuff." Since ""belief"" is irraticrnal, some sort of suspension of normal thinking mtzst have taken place and caused the convert to lose his or her grip on reality. Social scientists through a variety of: means generally do not Xet tlzemselves get close enough to ""belief""to understand it, or, for that matter, even to see what it is, Men and women convert to ftzrndamental Christianiw becarrse they become convinced that supernatural reality is a fact, that Christ is the literal Son of Cod, that he did rise from the dead and is alive today, that the Holy Spirit is speaking to them, that Jesus wiX1. enter their hearts if they acknctwledge their sins, tl-rat they will have eternal life, that God is really real. Tb continkle to think otl-terwisewould be irrational; it is disbelief that is &ilse and unthinking. The appropriate question then is how does this supernatural order become real, known, experienced, absolrttely irrehtable? Among orthodczx Protestants, and especially among fundamentalists, it is the Miord, the gospel of Jesus Christ, written, spoken, heard, and read, that converts the ~~nbeliever. The stresses, transitions, infiuences, conditioning, and techniques which social scientists scrutinize do not in themselves explain,'"^ not "muse,'h)nversion to Christ. AXZ they do is increase the likelihood that a person might listen to the gowyel; they may "open'kr ""pepare a person's heart." It is the Word of Cod, the gospel, and, beliexrs would add, the Holy Spirit, Cod himself, that converts, that ""changes the heart?'? We cannot understand hnctamental Baptist conversion by tooEng only at what causes a person to listen ta the gospel; the causes are innumerable. W must listen too, and we must explore the consequences of listening. Witnessing and preaching are the two main situaticzns in which believers "speak the gospel" most intensely. Pnzaclzing-the sermon-is a. formal oration addressed to a body of belie.1~ersand nonbefie~rsby an ordained or anointed speaker in church services and revivals, Sermons occur in the contat of clear ritual format, of a collective, sanctifying scenario in which tl-te mode of interyre-etation is enacted. Witnessing is more informal and often occurs in the course of what appears trr be no more than a conversation between the witness, who is saved, ancl an unsaved listenex=But it is no mere conversation. The witness anci the tznsaved ""$> not share a common understanding-either of the immediate situation or of realiity more generally," Witnesses are "ware of this difference in

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understanding and self-consdously set out to change the views of those they address:" and to create a ""camelling retigiaus reality completely at variance with their [listener"] experience" worker n.d.: l , 3). Wtnessing aims to separate nctvice listeners from their prior, given reality, to constitute a new, previousiy unperceived or indistinct, reality, and to impl-ess that reality tzpon them; make it felt, heard, seen, Ip;nc>wl;t,undeniably real. The reality, or ""truth," mnstituted in witnessing is, in part, a linguistic one: the supernatural is experiencecl as God's voice and his spirit is communicated and experienced through wc>rds. Much ccrllective ritual among orthodc>x IJrotestants is likewise centered on words, on the Miord, Especially among fundamentaXists, church services and revivals are stripped of overt, itnagistic, and sacramental material; relat i d y little happens visually, and spiritual realities are not communicated through sensuous, nonlinguistic means, fn a way, witnessing is pure fundamentalist ritual, shorn of atmost all distractions, It is the plainest, most concentrated method for revealing and transmitting tlze Word of God, one in whiclz lang~~age is intensified, focused, and virtually shot at the unwashed listener. Fundamentalists are by no means unique in their use of oratory to convert others. Their tecl~niqrtesand a good deal of the content of their conversion rhetoric are broadly shared among conservative charismatics and evangelicals, Indeed, the prindple of conversion, of one person insinuating his or her mode of interpretatian into the mincl of anothet; informs all dialogue.Wat distinguishes fundamental Baptists from the rest of us is the degree to which they have formalized rhetcrrical techniques for converting alien others, the precise and distinctly unconscious manner in which those tecl~niquesqpropriate the listener's diahgic imagination, and the particular transfc~rmationsof self evoked in the listener. Preacher and Gospel Dusk had fallen by the time 1 left Ccjvenant Baptist Church, but I was bctthered by tlze light as X looked around the parking lot for my car. Xt seemecl as if everything had moved slightly. The church was on the outskirts of one of the poorer parts of Lynchburg, and l woufd have to zigzag across a half-dozen big streets that bisect tlze city to get back to my motel. I knew I was in some kind of daze after my long talk with Reverend Cantrell; f usuatly am after an interview, and this one had been especially intense, Halha). across town, I pulled my car up to a stop sign, stopped, started into the intersection, ancl was very nearly smashecl by a car that seemed to ccrme upon me from ns~wherevery fast. I slammed on the brakes, sat stunned h r a split second, and asked myselfc'"Whatis Gad trying to tell me?" X t was my voice, but not my language. I lzad been invaded by the fundamental Baptist tongue I was inwstigating, As Reverend Cantrell m u l d have put it, the WoXy Spirit wds ""dealing with me: "speaking to my heart," "hinging me under conviction.'"e was showing me tlzat ""Lfe is a passing thing:" that death could take me in an instant, no matter how mtzch ccrntrol f fancied X had over my life, and that I should put my life in the Lord's hands before it was tocr late.

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If we conceive of cctnversion as a process of acquiring a specific relighus language, I was initiated inta ftindamental Baptist conversion as I sat in my car that evening in Qnchburg, awash in apprehension and relief. The yrcjcess starts when an unregenerate listener begins to appropriate in his or her inner speech the regenerate speaker's language and its attendant view of: the world. The speaker's language, nr>win the listener" vctice, cctnverts the listener" mind inter a contested terrain, a divided self. At the moment of salvation, which may come quickly and easily, or much later after great inward turmoil, the listener becomes a syeake~The Christian tc>nguelocks into some kind of central, controlling, dominant place; it has gctne bclyclnd the point of invading the Iistener" mind to occupy the listener" identity The Holy Spirit, the very Word of God, has come, as ftindamental Baptists say, tcr "indwH the heart of the believer," who may netw publicly display in speech and action a perscmal, which is tcr say, conversational, relationship with God, It was quite specifically Reverend Gantrell" sltanguage and mode of interpretatian that unfurled itself in my mitld as I contemplated my near accident. I had intended to interview him that afternoon, but within the first few minutes of our talk Reverend Clantrell assumed contrctt of the dialogue and reframed my appointment to interview him into his opportunity to witness to me for an hour and a half. A witnessing session minimally includes the gospel story (an exegesis of the cleatlz, burial, anci resurrection of: fesus Christ), ancl a confrontation betwen the s listener witness and his or her listener in which the witness invites or e h ~ r t the to recreive Christ as his or her personaf Savior, Witnesses may also tell how they anci others came to h a w the Lord as Savior; they may testie (give accounts of encounters between themsetves and God, and other narrative evidence of God's intertrention in the natural w r l d ) and deliver other doctrinai exegeses (regarding, for example, heaven anci lzefl, the origin and nature of sin, or the wdys of Satan). Witnessing, like evangelistic preaching, "is intended tc>create a spiritual crisis by catling to the fore one" desperate and lost condition, which one may haw been totally unaware of" (Hill 1985:26;). This crisis is tlze onset of: the canversion process, what fundamentalists call ""ctming tznder conviction:%nd is based on a direct experience of the divine, k'ou knulv when the Woty Spirit convicts you of, or ""makes you see,'" your sins, Conviction effects a deep sensation of one's own impurity and separation from Cod, or one's '%"slnfLtlness,'" one's "sin nature,'" and a sense that ""smething has to be done about it."We shalt see that the inner speech of 'konvicted sinners" i s transformed as they are alienated from tlzeir previous vc>Zces(""the old self,'""natural man"") cast into a limbo [""l~st,""inneed:"%earching"") that is to say>somehow in a XirxlinaZ state, a state of confirsion and speechlessness; anci begin to hear a new voice (""an inaudible voice: ""re Holy Spirit'". It is a kind of inner rite of passage that is completed when sinners are "saved,'" or ""born-again," """rgenerated,""wasExed in the Mood of Cbrist:"~alvaticzn is experienced as a release from the bondage of: sin and a personal reconciliation with God. "A new self:, "qiritual man," merges and the supernatural imagination is cut ioose as the newborn Christian "accepts the meaning of the gospel" and be-

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gins to speak the language of Christ, For many, as it was for Benetta Jules-Rosette (Ii976:135), who studied among, and joinecl, tlze Apostles of fohn Maranke in Africa, c o n ~ r s i o nis "a p~rwrfLEIclash resulting from the shift from one realm of thought and action to another, a moment of spedfic shock. Under this shock, the very terms of physical existence seem to alter.'" The power ~ r Iteverend f Cantrellk rhetoric to induce lirninality was seccrnded in my case by severat, circumstances-f was on a number of margins. Xt was late afiernoon, and his church was on tlze eclge of town. We were in a corner of the church, in his study; alone, on the edge of propriety. I was beginning my fieldwork*And Iteverend Cantrefl seemed to me a peripheral character in my study. Having grown LIP with jerry Falwell and traixzecl to be a preacher at lzis Liberty Bible Institute, he w s in btzt not quite ofFalwllk empire, His congregation appeared to consist largely of white working class or unernpltrjyed men and women and their children. Covenant Baptist Church was, in his words, "a solid wctrk$" with about 350 members, ancl it sustaineel a number of outreaches, but Reveread Cantrefl and his congregation were not engaged in any of the pcrlitical or cultural activism that has earned Terry Falwell a nationat reputation in the last few yars, Reverencl Cantrell is a fall, trim, and muscular man, his silvery gray lzair piled up from his forehead in waves an inch or twcr high, He sat at his desk, 1 to its side, and he looked me in the eye the entire time we tallced, Later X realized that most peopXe who sat in the cllair I was sitting in came to Reverend Cantrell for spiritual help. Born-again beliexrs say that unbelievers cannot understand their faith. Jeanne Favret-Saada ( 1980:22) came to a similar conclusion while studying witchcraft in tlze Bocage region of France. ""For a n p a e who wants to understancl the meaning of [witchcraft] discourse, there is no other solution but to practice it oneself, ta become one's informantPThis is so, she tells us, because there are only t w ""psitians'Yrom which a person speaks or hears witcl~crafttalk, bewitched and unwitcher; i f p t z are neither, you will never even hear others speaking the discourse (Favret-Saada 1980:16). The situatictn is, of ctturse, quite different among fundamentalists. Gosyef talk is public and targets outsiders, nonbelievers; but, as in witchcraft, there is no such thing as a neutraf, ""participant-observer" pcrsition, n o place fctr an ethnographer who seeks ""iformation," Either you are lost, or you are saved. When I went to Lynchburg, I was n a i x enough to think I could be detached, that I could participate in the culture I was observing without partaking of it. I could come and stay for months, talk mainly to church peaple, attempt to ""larn the language:' ask questions based on respect and knodedge; and still remain outside, separate, obscure about what X believed and disbelieved, But there was no such grouncl. i might think there was, but they did not, no matter what I said, ft was inconceivable to them that anyone with an appetite for the gospel as great as mine was simply "gathering informa"e-ion,"w~rasjust there ""t write a boak:'No, I was ""sarching.'"God works in mysterious wqs*" Xn my case, he seemed to be letting me find my way to him through this book I said f w s writing about them. Several pwp;PX"ofd me as much; others just seemed amused when X told them

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what X was doing and gave me a loolc that indicated they knew better, My story about what I was doing there, instead of protecting me from going native (a kind of ethnographer" verbal fetish), located me in their world: f was a lost soul rrn the brink of safvaticrn. And Reverend Cantrell spoke to me accordingly* X asked lzirn first how lze became a pastor, aanci lze taok 15 minutes ta answer me, f had expected to get something akin to ""information" or "@ictsPand he gave me a long story of personal transformation, one that began with how he had been saved and had servcci the Lord before he was called to preach. He never achowledged my academic project and seemed to speak tcr me a if I were what they call a "nominal Christian," msorneone who might think she was a Christian but who had never been saved, He could assume X was not born-again siinpfy because I did not indicate f was, as believers d o when they meet, if only by a turn of phrase. Certainly, he was aware of himself as witnessing to me, and he had been trained, formally and informatfy, in ""sut-winning techniques," but his manner and his method seemed to draw more on unconsdous intuition than deliberate design, There are at least five distinct rhetorical movements in Reverend Cantre1lSs witnessing talk: equating his present listener with the listeners in his stories; defining the listener as lost; defining the speaker as saved; transforming his narrative listeners into speakers; exhorting his present listener to speak, I will trace these movements by exhibiting and expanding on sequentlaf pieces of Cantrel13s speech, lzoping to show you, as much as tell you, what conversion anci belief are amrrng fundamental Bay tists. In this, his conversion narrative, Reverend Cantrelf defined being ""Ist" m d being ""savd'bacl how lze moved from one position to the otlzer. Lostaess, he indicated, is a position from which yotz listen, and salvation is one from which you speak, Mote, too, how Cantrell began to pull me in and placed me into his narrative in the position of listener. Unfortunately>in words Rattened out on a page, we may hear only suggestions of his southern, hndamental Baptist, accent, his peculiar cadence, intonation, pausing, pitch, and stress, I was saved when X was 15 years old, I was a rnelnber of a Methodist church a11 of my life as a child. At the age of 15 I still had not heard the gospel story of fesus Christ and how that he died for our sins. X was instructed as a child coming up in the Methodist movement just to live a good life, to be maraily gocdci,and to maintain all of those particular statuses, and I ~rot~fd be oby. Nijw I was ir~vitedby a friend to visit a Baptist church. . . .And this was an i~rdependenthndamental Baptist church. And of course they had one of those hell-fire-and-da~nnatiuapreachers in there, and he got down otl xny case that night, At.~dX began to look a t thirlgs and X realized there was sometllillg missing in my life. Because, though we've never seen God, we're still aware of the fact that he is preser~t,we h o w he's there, And even tllough I wrzs~2.t. saved X knew there was something boxnbardi~rgmy Iife that was beyond my power to see or to really understand at the time. And I couldn't udderstand why X was11't receiving what X needed in the Methodist cllurch. So after attending about three of their services-and incidentally they were i11 revival that week-then the spirit of God began to convict me about my ptace in life and how that 1 was iost and Ilad not

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yet turned my whole life over to Christ, so X was saved that week, X went brward and gave my heart to Christ, Now this is a process that some folks xnisconstrue along the highways of life. They think, yorr know, perhaps that hecarrse I joilsed the church, and I'm a good xnexnber, faithhl, I tithe, X put all the nine yards in that really kdongs there . . . , they thirzk oAen that this is all that's necessary. But I realized that night there was a need in my life and that need wis met, and sc:, rnl~chthe spirit of God came to live in my heart. Now this is God" gift to every person that receives Christ. So I joined that particular church after about a rnonth of visiting there, But I was first saved and then X followed Christ to baptism, wl~ichI hadn't been baptized before, Of course the Methodist Church, they sprinkIe, and I don" have any arglment with them. there, other than the fact that I believe the Bible teaches irnmersioxs. And then after this, rny life hegan to grcltu and materialize into somerhir?rgthat was reai, something that X could really identi@with. That exnptiness that was there before was r?towbeing replaced hy somerl~ingthat had meaning and prrrpose In It. And I began to sense the need of telling others about what had happened to me. And basically f think perhaps the charxge could be detected in my life, as the Bible declares, that wlle11a person is saved, the old man, the old person, or the character that they were passes away, and then they becorne a new creation in Christ Jesus. That is to say, they might be a character that may be drinking and cutting up and c a r ~ i n gon and a variety of other things that are ill toward God. All of these things began to dissolve away I found that I had no desires for these things, but then I began to abhor them. X actually began to hate them. And this was in accordalzce with tlie Scriptures as X found orxt tater. And then as rny Iife began to mature in Christ I brxnd that I too coutd win others to Christ the same way I was won: by simply telling;:them that there" a heaven to gain and a helf to shun.

Enlisting the Listener Numerous poetic and performance features teem on the surface of Reverend Cantrell's speech. There are verse markers (""and" and ""now"") special codes, figurative language, symbctlic and metaphoric parallelism, and appeals to tradition. These features, according to Richard Bauman (1972 15-24), mark the text as an oral performance and indicate a special relationship b e t w e n performer and listener, one in which the performer assumes responsibility h r display of competence, illdirectly instructs the listener about how to ix~terpretmessages, ancl invites, eticits, participation, binding the listener to the performer in a relationship of dependence and keeping the listener caught up in the display. Reverend Cantrefl also communicated my relationship to his syeecl~more directly throtzgh his use of pronouns (emphasis added): ""Itill had not heard the gospel story of Jesus Christ and how that he died for our sins.'"'B"~ecause, though we've never seen God, wei.e still aware of the Pact that Ize is present, we know he's there.'" Cantrell ccrntinued to place me in his narrative during the rest of the time W talked by using the ""royaI. we," and he frequently shifted l-ris proncruns and at times used ' c ~a~ m bl i)gl~ o u s i yas~ a personal and impersonal pronoun. His fistener by these means became the subject of a whole range of presupprrsitions posited in such a way that they were difficult to resist,

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Xteverend Cantrell at one point in this initiaf speech and at several points later on quite overtly identified me with lzis narrative listeners. The central, reiterated narrative structure in his witnessing was a dialogic: encounter betwen persc->n and Gad, or b e ~ e e na lost listener and a saved speaket: The context of his witnessing of course was also diatogic: Reverenci Cantrell and X were engaged in a dialogue, one in which he, who was saved, was speaking, and 1, who was not saved, was listening. Early in his conversion narrative, Xteverend Cantrell began to collapse these parallel levels ofdialogic structure and thereby place me in lzis stories, in his speech: "Now I w s invited by a friend to visit a Baptist church . . . and rrf ctturse this was an independent fundamental Baptist church. And of course they had one ofthose lzell-fire-and-damnation preacl~ersin there, anci he got down on my case that night." In describing his context the night he w s converted, Cantrell called attention to our, his and my, context. He too was a hell-fire-and-damnatlon preacher, and X, in effect, was informed that he wctuld be getting down on my case and that I might be converted that afternoon. This is no mere innuendo: Cantrel was thus aligning me and my encounter with him with the listening persons and their encounters with Gad in his stories. m e n e v e r a spiritualized speaker addressed a w a y a r d listeael; the speaker would also be addressing me. X tot->m u l d be transfigured, if only by degrees, by the very act of listening to Milton Cantrell. Reverend Cantlrell remindeci me of my position in lzis narrative several times, X heard it faintly when he said, "I found that I too could win others to Christ the same way I was won: by simply telling them that there's a heaven to gain and a hell to shun." He was more explicit later, when he told me lzow he was called to preach. Now when I had tny calling at age 29,I wis operating a service station. And I was in the station one afternoon, wrking on a car. And Cod did not speak to me with an audible voice, but he spoke to xny heart. And there was a cur~versationgoing on mucl1 fike the one that" l-iere. I h doing the talking and youke listcni~lg.And God was doing the taikilzg and I wis listening, I was down ullder the car, chaxlging the oil, and . . . God was just dealing with me about doing this. And I said, ""Xan't do that." And mtzch like Moses when the Word called hirn to do something, he said, "I can't even taik." And God said, "Well, I71 send your brczther Aaron to help you." So every excuse I w u l d come up with, he would head me off by instrttcti~lgme that he would do somethirzg to meet my sl~artcomings.So I finally surrendered in the sense of the word that aftemc)c>n,

Xf X had any doubt about where X belonged in Reverend Cantrcll" talk, tlzis passage dispelled it, God spoke to hirn under his car that afternoon jtlst as Cantlrell was speaking to me in his office. X am the listener; he is the speafeer; that which transpires in his narrative dialogues shall somehow transpire b e ~ e e nus, Reverend Cantrell also introduced, and located me within, another parallel level of dialogic structure, b e ~ e e God n and Biblical figures, in this passage. I mtzst listen to Clantrell as long ago Moses, and much ltater Cantrell, listened to Gad. Clues

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such as these inform, or, rather, persuade, the listener that the Mritnessk words, tlzough they appear to be about tlze witness and about other cl~aracterson the narrative surface, are on a deep l e d about the listener: Yilu, tcw, are a character in these stories; these stories are about yju,

Keeping in mind that much of what Reverenci Cantrell said about lzirnself as he came tznder convicticzn also applid tto his listener, let us examine hrrw he f a h ioned the lost soul, the sinner, the person in need of salvation. b u n g Cantxfl realized tlzere was something missing in lzis life. He needed something he vasn? getting; he was lost. He vas carrying on in a variety of ways that were ill tclwifrd Csld. His life was empty and lacked meaning and purpose; it was not maturing or groMring into something real, Yet he lmew there was sametlzing bombarding his life beyond his power to see or really uncierstand; tlzouglz he had never seen God, he vas still aware of his presence, he knew he was there, Clantrelt was ostensibly describing himself here, but because he had put me in his narrative in his place, lze was also describing me; indeed, he was rehshiontng me. f am emptied, stripped of all vestiges of personality and uniqueness. My life is rendered meaningless, my past erased, I am primarily distinguished by what I lack, ancl, givm my lacking, by what I need. X stand for absence, for void, yet X am aware of something more, something missing, unseen, hidden, and f ccrme to need that, to desire it, perhaps to crave it, and am thus larrnched on a quest for aft firmation anci revelation which may be achieved only through conversion. All this is acccrmpltished in me by implication and presupycrsition, not by direct argument, iMy consent is not sought; l am implicated, already enlisted as a colfaborator, in my ow11 metamorphosis.

InstiIling the Spirit As well as ccrnstituting the listener as a lost soul, Rexrend Cantrell in his conversion story began to ftashton the speaker, the saved s a d , as he narratlvefy moved himselk you could say>";converted lzimself, from lost listener to a saved speaker of the Word of Gcrd. The hell-fire-and-damnaticzn speaker getting dctwn on Clantreilk case shortly became tlze spirit of God convicting him about his place in life-that lze was lost and had not yet given his whole life cover to Christ. He was saved, and he went farward and gave his heart to Christ, and the spirit of Gad came to live in his heart, His life began to grow and materialize into sometlzing tlzat was real, something that had meaning and purpose in it. His old character and its desires passed away Then he began to sense the need of telling others abctut what had happened to him and found that lze too could win others to Christ in the same wdy that lze was won. The spirit of Gcrd first "ws>rkedon" Cantrell, then entered and transformed him, and finally spoke thrcough him to bring others under mnvtction.

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God's spirit, the Holy Spirit conwrts sinners, but he (the fundamental Baptist Holy Spirit is a male person) speaks througl~those who preach the gospel. Preachers speak the Mdord of Gcrd; God speaks tbrotzgh them. Reverend Cantrell started a church in a storefront after God calfed hirn, and on the first day of services, he wonciered why anyone would come there to hear him preach. Later he reafized "it was the Mdord of God they must come to hear, and not me, It's the Miord of God that must cause the change:?The change is caused not by God as an external agent, but by the Word, the spirit, of God, which is internalizeci when a perstjn accepts Cl~rist."By nature, Adarn and Eve, you lenc>wfthey caused the problem, but they ixtvested into every one of us that would be borned a similar nature. Mow this nature can be wiped clean, it can be cl~angedby once again instilling the spirit of God within us? Here, according to Reverend Cantrell, is how the Holy Spirit wtjrks his magic. Now X realize maliy times when X preach, the Bible says preaching is as of foolishness. But tl~ereis another agent working whik I h lpreaching. And he's the Holy Spirit. And he's the one that grips the heart. 1 could throw a rock at you and you could throw another one at me, Rut if T make a statement from the Word of God, and the Hoiy Spirit bears me up, and he begins to deal with your heart about it, then when we have parted comyarxy, he" stifl workirrg, and Ikxn gone, Now until weke saved, he lives without us, but when we're ~elved,he comes to live within us, and this is what we meaxi by receiving tile Lord into us. m e x i he colxes to live in us he colxes in the form of the Holy Spirit. I've never seen him. But like a mother with a child, she" not seen her unborn baby, but she h o w s he's there. "I'olia say, "How does she kxiow?" She feels lifk arxd movement withill her. Now the spirit of God is like arxother voice, like another party. And he is not a figment of the imagination, 13ut the Bible says, lie's a real personality a reai person, And actrraiIy he can catch your next w r d and stop It, if yc>tt'sesensitiw to him. And if )rr>u%enot, put a piece of tape acrc>sshis mc>uth, yorx can fold him hack into the innermost rooms of your heart and give hirn rxo liberty. Rut if you let him, he becosnes the ttttclr of your life, the instructor, the wide, the teacller, And he telts-now when f use the term "tefls:%e speaks to xny heart and he gives m@-yoube seen the time when you woufd sense sosnething and you catzldn't really say another person was r a k n g to you, but you sense you ou@t to do mmething, ktt were Impressed to get up and go see sornebody or something. Bit, rigk, this is the way the Holy Spirit works with xne, He impresses me. He moves upon rny heart to do certaitr things. And sometimes he gives me spirituaf discernment that's drnost like reading anr>tlxerpersods mind. Ma11y times I've had people sit down to taik with me, and the Holy Spirit wrxid aimost link rny mind up with theirs and tell me certain thir~gs.And I cannot =plain it, but this is because he is a third part of the Godhead, In reality, it's God fving within us, Now oxice he's in here, the things that X used to love to do-and I snean I had a real passion for some things before I got saved-and whell he came to jive witi~itlxne, ail of a sudden I found that X bated and despised those thixzgs. WII, it wasn't my flesh, it was Christ living within me that was despising those things because they were anti- and alien to his nature.

Fundamental Baptists, espedally preachers, are acutely aware of the power of witnessing and of the gospel, of the rhetoric of conversion in general, They at-

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tribute its transfcjrming power to the workings of the Woty Spirit, that is, to supernatural agencies, but their glosses on tl-tose agencies invariably refer to words, to speaking and hearing and reading, In effect, in a coded vay, they recogniz language as a medium, even a sul?ject, of religious experience, and tl~eycoach the ~~nconverted in the linguistic dimension of conversion, The Holy Spirit uses IPeverend Cantrefl's speech, as it were, to remodel his listenersynner speech. The Holy Spirit impresses on Cantrell what to say and deals with the hearts of his listeners, bearing him up, after lze's gone. ""Tile heart" is contrasted with ""the head," and seems to mark the difference between unconscious and conscitzus knovvfedge and belieft,The Holy Spirit, the Word, "wctrks on" the unconscious mind to bring tlze conscious mind "uncler c.onvictian.'%~s listeners appropriate the gc~spel,the Holy Spirit penetrates the conscious mind and becomes ""another vczice," '2 real person:hwbo begins to recast their inner speech. After satvation, the voice of the Holy Spirit ""tides" conwrts, gives them ""diiscernmentP and seems to alter the very cl-temistryof desire.

Second Birth Rewrend Cantrell spelled oat the moment of salvatic~nelliptically in his own conversion narrative, and he etaborated it in his disquisition on Holy Spirit. He also posited the moment of salvation in highly charged symbolic terms, in Bibiical exgeses on birth anci death, fieslz, spirit, blood, and sacrifice. Cantrell drew on wll-established parallels in evangefical culture betwen the narratives of Christ" death (the gospel story) and of personal conversion, between the casrnic order spelled out in tlze Bible from the Garden of Eden to Calvary and the epic of each individual in the face of inevitable death. The gc~spel story defines the movement, the passage that all believers must endure, from suffering and dying (coming ~ ~ n d conviction), er to burial (silence, absence, void), and resurrection (a)nwrting, being reborn). As God restored man to himself by sacrificing his son on the cross, so the unsaved may restore themselves to God by ""ding'3o tl-teir old selves and being barn anew in Christ. All they need do is acknoTNJedge their ""sin nature," accept that Christ died for their sins, and ask him into their hearts, It is these wctrds, once genuinely spoken, that resurrect a dead soul, that instill in the newborn believer the Holy Spirit, the very voice of Cod, Rexrend Cantrell began to elaborate the connection between the gc~spelstory and salvation, as witnesses often do, by talking about Nicodernus, who came to visit fesus one niglzt and said ta lzirn, as Cantrel put it, "Now you've got something that weke missed.'' Jesus said, "Nicodemus, I'm going to limit my words in talking to you. Listen carehily." We said, ""Ue must he tborned again. Ye rnust be borned again? Axld Nicodelxtzs said, "HCYW In the wrici can a man he born when he" sold? Is it possible that I could enter again a second time illto my rnotherS womb and be born?" fesus said ""No,p u didn't listen, I'm gooig to repeat one more time. . . . You must be horxzed again, . . .

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That which is born of Aesll is flesh, That which Is horxz of spirit is spirit, Marvel not that X siy, youke aXrerz.cly had one birth, but you need Inure, VUEZneed the birth that's goitzg to change you from the one you received from Adam, which Is a sirzfuiri nature. Vou%e already experieilced that first birth and yorz"re hlulf of yourself But now you rxeed the second birth, the one that will give p u this itzd~veltingof the spirit of God." NCWwhen f was born, I was born plsysicdly of my mother. Jestis said, "Yc~urnllst be horxzed of the water first, of the spirit seccmd.'*When a child is abot~tto he born, it's first enclosed in the mtltherk womb. fs that true? [Yes.] That water must be broke before the child can be born. Now this is a representation of the first birth. He gaid, "You must be born of the water first, Nicodernus, youke already been born, youke here." But then he said, ""Wow you must be born t)y the sgirit;"Tour mother birthed ycxr the first time. And yorrr mother cannot give yorr this spliritrxal birth, So this must corne from above, Now God gives this second birth. [How does the second birth change a person?] Okay, Susan, yclrr have the characteristics and the traits of your mother and your father, "fkue?[Yes.] All right. Now the second birth wifl give p u the cl~aracteristicsor the traits of the Father that hirthed ycxr, Notu the first time when you were born, you couldn't help your mother. If your life had depended on it, p u had to depend upon her strength to bring you into this world. True? [Yes.] Wow when weke saved, or borlled again, this is absolutefy and totally dependcmt upon God. Now where did the birth take place at? Xt had to be a birth of such a caliber that It had to take care of the whole world, And this was a place cailed Calvary, Jesus, when he was dying, was shedding his blood, and the Old "restaxnent says that without the shedding of biood there is no remissiorz, there can he no forgiveness for sin. So blood-the innr>cent-and God typified this in the animal sacrifices of the Old 73stament. When Adam and Eve sinned, Gerzesis 3:21 said Ile slew innocent anirnals, And he took the skin off these animals, and he covered their nakedness, which is the type of giving them a covering which is representative of righteousness, and the blood was used to atone for their sins, . . . Att~nemeatrneans to cover and the bfoc>d of the animals of the Qld Testaxnent typified one day tl~atChrist would came, shed his blood, but then this blood, this blood being shed rzotu, brings about redernptiorz and not atonemellt wllich is a temporal covering. For thougands of years, the Jews under the Mosaic ecorzoEny ofkred up sacrifice of ani~nals-yorxke probabiy read that-and they did this because this was representative of one day a coming Savic~r. )"OU rernernber the incident in Exodus, about Abraham went to offer his son Tsaac on Mt. Moriah. And the Bible says that fsaac the son said, "hather"-he didnb kknw what was goillg on-be said, ""Here's the altar, here's the wood, here's she knife, here's the fire, but where%the sacrifice?Where's the larnb?%nct Abraham said, "My son, God himself shall provide a sacrifice. A la~.xlb.'Wowwe go down several thousand years Into the future, and John the Baptist, when Ile saw Jesus Christ for the first time, he told the disciples that were with him, he said, ""Rehold, take a look, here is the lamb of God that will take away the sins of the worid:%nd the lamb of God was Jesus Christ, Of course, Isaac was not stain. There was a ram cat~glltin the thicket which w a s a type of substitrxtiorz. So Jesus Christ died in my piace as a srrbstitrxtion for me. . . . How God so loved me that God himself died ft>rme because Jestis Christ is a Very God,

"The conquest of death is the u1.cjimat.egoal of Christianity" "raham 1983;203), and Gctory is achieved when sinners are ""bored again" and the spirit of God i s in-

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stifled in them. Rebirth is totally dependent upon the grace of Cod, as a baby is totally dependent on its morlzer br its birth. Symbolically, Revereacl C a n t ~ l first l moved his listener from the first birth, the mother, flesh, and water breaking, tcr the second birth, the Father, spirit, and biood shed. The second (spiritlmale) birth takes over, subverts and cancels out the consequences of, the first (fleshlfemale),releasing the sinner from the wages of sin, death. The m m b of the seccind birth w s the cross at Caimry; Christ mediakd b e ~ e e nthe first (fieshlfemate) and second (spiritlmale) birth and created the possibility of reconciliation with God. After spelling out the contrast betwen the first and the second birth, Rexrend Cantrelt moved deeper into a discussion of blood, ofU"reinnocent." The blood of animals sacrificed rznder tlze law of Moses was a temporal, or a temporary ancl earthly, covering (atonement). The blood of Christ provided eternal, heavent-y, remission from sin {redemption), Throtzgh animal sacrifice, humans asked God's forgiveness and might stay his judgment, but they were still condemned to die, Only the self-f-sacrificeof God lzirnseff could lift tlze curse of Aclarn ancl Eve and overturn the Mosaic economy. God gave to man that which he had not aslted Abraham to give, his ciwn son, his own Resh and blood, and so made arsailabje eternal life to those who would believe. God no longer asks the bfoacl of anitnals from men and women. He asks for repentana and faith in the saving grace of Christ, A sacrifice is still due, namely, the Resh-bound self of the first birtl~,which is offered up in the act of believing. Animal blood is linked to spiritual death; it can ont-y "ccrver" sin (separation frcim God, death) and nakedness (meanindessness, void); and it onfy represents, or typifies, riglzteousness (order, reunion with God) ancl a coming Savior. Christ's blood actually saves men and women frt3m sgirituat death; Christ's death ""sbstitutes" krr them and creaks eternal life. Here Cantrell was using the Mew Testament to overtake, subvert, and transform the Old Testament; he seemed to saggest that Mosaic sacrifice only apprt>ximated, or signaled to, God, while bctrn-again sacrifice refates directly to God, and, in a way>becomes Gad, On a symbolic level, Cantl-ell arguecl that it was Christ" b b l d that made this transition possible. But narratixly-iooking at the form his argument took on the surface of his whole juxbpositictn of tales, from Niccbdemus to Abraham and Isaac to Christ on the cross-Cmtl-ell emphasizecl the importance of spoken language, of dialogue, in making the passage from one world to the next. He repeatedly relied on dialogue (between Jesus and Nicitdemus, himself and me, Isaac and Abraham, John the Baptist ancl the disciples) to set up the difemma of Izuman choice. In this respect, he was speaking as much within Old as New Testament tradition, Robert Alter points sout that Oid Testament writers used ""narration-thmugh-dialogue" to higlzliglzt human will confro~ltedwith alternatives wl~ichit may choose on its own or submit to divine i n t e r ~ n t i o nArticrrlated , tarxguage provides the ix-rdispensible modei for defining [the] rhythcn of political or historical alternatives, question and response, creaturely uncertainty over against the Creator's intermittently revealed design, because in the biblical view of reality w s d s anderfie reality [Alter 198ii.:49].

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And it is through spoken dialogue, thrctugh witnessing, that each sinner is confronted with and makes the choice to accept o r reject Christ,

Do You b o w Christ? Reverend Cantrell concluded an hour of virtually uninterrupted talk with a veritabfe gospel poem tha"euily realized the complex, holistic meaning of blood as birth and as death and emylzasized the mutuality of: tlze sacrifice and reconcifiation b e t w e n humans and God. Cantreilk speech is striltingly Biblicstl here, an elabc-tradon of several verses from the Ofd Testament Boczk of Ezekief,Qhough again he converts it to New Testament ends. My birth, it belongs to God. God made me. And then Paul said, "%'hen I"ve been saved, I've been bought with a price." What was that price? His life at Galvary, That's wllat he gave for me, He ra~lsomedme out of the, ~ O Lmigllt I say, the slave markets of sin and brought me into a right refatiarzship. And when I was I J I X I W Othe ~ ~Bible ~I~, said he loved me, When I was wretched and naked, when I was horned, the prophets said it was like I was thrown out onto the grourld. X bad not been washed in salt, X had not been s~ippled[washed in water]. I had not been bathed in oLive oil, I was laying there in my own blood, clying. Axzd whexz he saw me, there was nothing about me that really made me desirable. )"et 11e looked beyond all of my fauIts and saw my needs, and he came, and he loved me, and he died for me. Asld he even made it available so that I corrld know this, and when f come to that kr~awledge,I had no alterxrative but to want to 17,111to the one that loved me. Because noboii). had ever cared fc>r rne like Jesrrs. And that's about the size of the story. Nobody.

Reverend Cantrell tlzen turned to me ancl asked, ""Now Susan, tct me ask you a question, Do you know Christ as your personal Saviorl" He aslted me several more questions, "Dcz you believe in Gad?""Wat if you died today?" Then he told me a story of a man he buried a few weeks before who lzad cl~okedto death on some food. "Had n o idea he m u l d be sent out into eternity." ""L& is just an uncertain thinge3Weinquired again into my faith, "Have you ever sensed the presence of God?" Then lze tald me about a man who, at 40, lamented that 1ze"d been ""lzoking for a wife for so long.'" Cantrell told him ""Ihink Cod has sent yotz the right wc-tman, probably 20 times, and you turned her downe"He said the man had overlooked the orclzid ancl all tlze other beautiful Rowers while looking for a rose, "Can you identifry with that?" Then Reverend Cantrell brought his e-dartadon to a rather stunning mctusion. Now if in this Me, the Bible says, only we have hope, then we of sit, men are rnost miserable. But you see my life, n1-y hcrpe is in the life to come, and I realize this life is a passing thing. Jeremiah says it's like a vapor. XI appears but for a little white, and then van~ life is. Weke just not swre how long things are going to ishes. We know 1 1 0u11certain go. I went to work one morning, I had some work to do 01%a Saturday morning. And one of my sons was $ 4years old, And the other one was $ 5 years ofd. And we got up that morning, And 1went in, and I rassfed wit11 my sot%and rassied him out of bed, the ~ got UP that morzxing and ate breakfast. We opened the W r d one that was 14, A E IW

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of God, We read and we prayd together as a farnily, my wife, my two sons, and I. And I werzt on to do that work that morning. It was a Saturday. And X had soxnething X mnted to mc3ve. A~tdX was operatirxg a crane. A~tdI accidently kilted 11im that morning, Axzd X looked at God, and 1 said, "Lord, you told xne in your Ward that all things w r k together for good to those that iove you, especially those that are caired according to your pul-k~ose."And I said, "I've served p 1 1 faithfi~lly,And Ike loved you. And I've given you my heart, my life, my soul, given you everyelling ahou t me, A~tdnow X can't ~~nderstand this, why )bt)uTve taken my son." And God didnk speak wit11 a vt9icc that E heard with my ear h t he spoke to my heart. He said, ""MiXton, you k1ow maybe you don" t~nderstandwhat I've done at this pal-tict~lartime, but, can yc?u accept it?" And I said, ""Ves sir, I can accept it.'%nd, Susan, when I made rlxt staternexzt, and X settled that In my own Ileart, and I said ""Lard, X accept it thcrugh X dorr't understand It,'" dm't h o w where to say it calxe from. other than that God gave it to me, but he gave me a peace in rny soul, A~tdX 11ave not questioned it since, Now I wex~tand shared it with rny wife, I said, ""Sirle).:' I said, "God said all things vvollld Mrork together for the gcrod to us hecarrse we loved hirnlxncl she said basically the same thing I did, "WeII, X dor.t"tunderstand, This isn't good." But I said, ""Yeah, but God said it is good:'And I slzared with her, and when X sl~aredthis with her, she came of the sal-xleopinion. And we watched them close the casket on that little fellcw and my, he was just sliper. I mean, he was almost my heartthrob, you h o w , that was my baby. And yet he died in my arms. And yet I dookd at God and I said, "Lord, X'm goit-rgto dove you if ya~xtake my other son. I'm going to ifove you if you take my wife. X'm going to love you if you take my health, if p u hgc>it-rgto Iove you." Mow I'm saying that because, strip me of everything Ike got, I Susan, he is real. This is not myth010~.I'm 44 years 014, and I'm no fed. God is dive. And his son lives in my heart. And X" dove for him to live in yobrr heart. Of all that X could give or think of ever giving over to ycm, I hope that what we'w talked about here today wilt help you make that decision, to let him colxe into your heart, and then lle wit1 be p u r tutor, And he'll instrttct you in thin@ that perhaps I've stulxbled over today.Someti~nestile vocabtllary rnay not be appropriate to really describe the depth and the detail the things that need to he said. Rut this is where the Holy Spirit can rnake intercession fc~rus. The Bible gays with groanings and uaerings that we just a n n o t utter. I may miss sumethit-rg,hut he% l~ringit out. I rnay present somethi~rg,and you don't ~~nderstand it. But he wit1 reveal it to ycm. This is what the whole thing is about.

Reverend Cantrell. began lzis t~ftixnatenarrative on a note of wistful resignation. Life is a passing tlzing, a vayor; it's lzere for a little while ancl tlzen vanishes, Without pause, he shifted into a homey story about getting his sons tzp one Saturday morning, opening and reading the W6rd of God, and going out to work in the yard. Then he delivered a split-second narrative shock: "And X accidentty kiHed him that morning." The sentence disrupts, it stabs, but befc~reit is abscsrbed Cantrelt shiEired to the red point-his conversation with God, God asked Milton to accept what he, God, had not asfied Abraham to accept and what he, God himself, was willing to give: his son's death. And Milton obeyed: "Yes, sir. I can accept it:TThis sentence, in a moment as extreme and extraordinary as the tragic death of his son by his awl1 hand, is what God asked of lzitn to restore order in himself and in the wortd. By speakng his obedience, his submission to Cod's will, they were reconciled, and Cantrell received in return peace in his soul, an eager will-

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ingness to give still more, The same gifts, he conctuded, awaited me, if ctnly 1 too would accept Christ. "This is what the whole thing is about:"

ff a3nxrsion is a process of acquiring a specific religious language, and witnessing is an ortizodm Protestant rite of conwrsicrn, then, if you are willing to be witnessed to, if you are seriousty willing to listen to tlze gospel, you have b e g ~ ~ton conxrt. Listening to the gospel initiates the unwashed inttr the Word, the language of God, The single most important unconscious clue X gave Reverend Cantrell tlzat I was 'Ls~sceptible" to cc~nversittnwas that I was willing to listen to the gospel. Crises, transitions, and tzpbringing as such dcr not lead you to ccln-trert;they may rnake you more likely to listen, and anything that makes you mare likely to Iisten, including the work of ethnography, is actually what makes you susceptible. ""Susceptible" imfies passivity, but I was not passively listening to IPeverend Cantretl. X was struggliing mightily against the grain of my ignorance and incredulity to make sense of what he was saying. His lang~~age was so intense ancl strange, yet deceptively yltain and familiar; full of ccrmyltex nuances and pushes and putXs, that I had nct time, no spare inner speech, to ""interpret" him, to rewcrrk what Ere said into my own words, as Ere talked, X just gripped my chair, as it were, and took it in straight, I was willfully uncritical as wetl, in the sense that f wanted to understand, as best I could, his wcrrds fmm his point of view, to assume his position, to make his speech mine.7 It was not exactly what Reverend Cantrell said that brotzght me tznder conviction; it is that I took it up, merely by listening to him activety and uncritically" The membrane betwen disbetief and betief is much thinner than W think. All f had to do was to listen to my witness and to struggle to understand him, Just doing so did not rnake me a ftzrndamenfaf Baptist born-again believer, but it drew me across that membrane in tiny ways so that X began to acquire the knowledge and vision and sensibilities, to share the experience, of a betiexr. Believers and disbelievers assert there is no middle ground: k r r are either one or the otlzer. You cannot b o t l ~believe ancl disbelieve. But that is precisely what it means ttr be under ccrnviction. Xju do not believe in the sense of public dectaraticrns, but y t u gradually come to respond to, and interpret, and act in the w r l d as if p u were a befievex: It is a state of unconsdo~~s belief, experienced with more or less turmrrit and a ~ e t ydepending , on hctw strong your disbelieving voices are. ft also depends for the ethnographer on haw adamant your colleagues are about the ""Qngmg'af doing ""tzis kind offieldwork.'3 wis given to think my credibility depended on my resisting any experience of born-again betief. The irony is that this space beween belief and disbeliieft,or rather the paradoxical space of overlap, is also the space of ethnography, We must enter it to do our work." iteverend Cantrefl's testimony was a hodgepodge of stories sewn together with "fie scarlet thread of redemption,'hnctt a series of ""logical" or ""emrical" wgu-

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meats, He persuaded me narrativefy, Disbelief is a conscitrus refusal to accept a partictllar version of reality, and believing involves the conscious acceptance of ""doctrines:" of particular claims about reality and one's relationship to it, But disbelief is atso, in the case of evangelical Christianity at least, an uncunscious refusal to participate in a particular narrative made of knowing reality, Likewise, betief also invc~lvesan unconscious wilingness to join a narrative tradition, a vay of lcnowing and being through storytelling, through giving and taking stories, b u cannot give born-again stories, you cannot Fashion them, without acknowledging betief, but yotz can take them, yotz can abscrrb them, and that's hc~wyou ""betieve" when you are under cunviction. k'ou geuaught up in the stories, no matter what your conscious beliefs anci disbeliefs are. f was caught up in Reverend Cantrell" stories-f had ""caught" his languageenough to ""her God" when I almost collided with another car that afterncrr>n.Indeed, the near accident did not seem like an accident at all, for there is no such thing as a coincidence in born-again crtftrtre; God's hand is everyhere. Gospel talk casts in your subfimind mind, your ""hart,'" a Biblical rhphm of alternatives, a vibrating template, ready to fire God's sspeecl-r gi~rena cmtext in which you seem to have a choice to submit to God's wilI or ply your own. Preachers constrtlct sac11 ccrntexts verbally, and life presents them virtually every day-thc~se apertures in the ordinary, when the seams split and yru encounter the unknown, the unexpected, the uncantrollabfe, the irrational, the uncann5 the miraculous. These are moments ripe for supernatural harvesting, mrrments when fear or awe mutes your natural voices and God may speak, offering yru the opportunity to speak back, Coming under conviction (listening to gospel stories or voices) is easy compared to getting saved (speaking; telling stories). m e n you come tznder conviction, you cross through a membrane into befie6 when you get saved, you cross another membrane out of disbelief. This passage is more problematic fbr some lost souls, for what outsiders m u l d say were reasons of education, class, intellect, and insiders wcruld say was hardness of the heart, ego or pride, the wcrrk of the devil, However you explain it, getting saved among fundamental Baptists involves giving tzp disbelief (not just suspendil~git, but disavc3wing it), accepting bornagain befief (your conversationat relationship to God) as the centering principle of your identity, your personal and public life, your view of human nature anci history, and joining a particular narrative traditicrn to which you willingly submit your past, p ~ x n tand , future as u speaker. One more reason Reverme2 Cantrell was a compelling witness was tlze extent to which, and eloquence with which, he gave his life to the language of Christ. This willingness to ""submit one" Me to God;"' to narrate one's experience and Faslzion stories out of it in dialogue with God's will anci Biblical trutlzs, makes God, and his Mdord, most real and known and irrefutable, to oneself and to cone's listener. Eteverend Cantrell understood this, at least intuitively, well enough to tell me about klling his son just before his final pitch for my soul. The story disarmed me not only because he had killed his own son and becatzse he so crisyty gave up his grief and his guilt to God, but becarrse he was telling me, a stranger,

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about it, He ""sacrificed his own son" tcfo his narrative tradition with a calm and assurance, a peace of Izeart, that I still find difficult to accept, OAen tlzat aftemoan X found mysetf at a loss for words as Cantrelt narrative17 generated what for me were novel grounds fbr tcnowing and h r speaking, but the story of his sank death struck me drtmb. He might as well lzave gone up in a puff of smoke.. A cynic, sea~nd-guessingRexrend Cantrell's motives, wotzld say he was manipvrlafve, that he used this painful story to "get to" his listener, But from Mrithixt born-again culture, tlzis telling was the ultimate evidence of belief, Cantrcll" s o ment of maximum authenticity. If he tcrld me the story for effect, it was t~ effect the reality of God in me. Millat God said to him and he said to God in that tragic moment meant that God is absofutely real. This was his clwn concl~~sion: 'Xow I'm saying that, Susan, because he is real. This is not mythology. I'm 46 years old, and X" no fool. God is alive. And his Son lives in my heart." Among fundamentalist Baptists, the Holy Spirit brings you under conviction by speakng to your heart. Once you are saved, the Holy Spirit assumes you voice, speaks throtzgh you, and begins to reword your life. Listening to the gospel enables .you to ctxperience belief, as it were, vicariously. But generative belie&belief that indisputably transfigures you and your reality, belief tlzat becomes you, comes only through speech. Among fundamentat Baptists, speaking is believing.

Notes Marxy thanks to Faye Ginsb~xrg,Frarxces FitzGerald, Shiriey Lindenbaum, Rruce Mannheirn, Eloy ltapyaport, Elayna Rapy, J a w Schneider, Cynrhia Sowers, Kathleen Stewart, Harriet Whitel-read,Rohert Wt~thr~o%v, and Mariiyrz tiiotrng for their comments and encouragecnent, l. All evca~gelicalC3hrbtians have received Jesus Christ as their persc3nat Savior and are ""bor-again," "I 1982, Gallup (p. 31) estimated over 50 million adult Americalls made this claim. Asnong them, those wlso call the~nselvesfikndcarnentulists are the most doctrinally strict, dispenstionalis (their eschatology ""rapture" "tern before the tribukatiotl),separatist, and ~moliticallyconsewative. There are no firm figt~resorz how many evarzgelical Christians consider themselves ftlndamentalists; among 13aptists perhaps 5 rnilfion w u l d iderztif"ywith the fundamentalist iahel (Wardin 1980:27,33;Amrnernnan 1986:487).A recent poll f Kantzer 1980) estimated 29 million adutt Americans identified themselves as charGn.ttldcs or pentuco~fuls.Mar~yof them worrld agree with hndarnentalists orz most doctrinal and pcrliticai questic>ns,b t ~ they t part colnparly over the doctrine of charismas (the belief that the Holy Spirit maxzifests himself in the body of the believer tbrou@ tongues, ~ o p h e c yand , healing), which fi;indarnentalistsreject. A. third major faaion of born-again Christians, who are called neo-evb,~utgeliculs,is more moderate or liberal politicaIXy, doctrinally, and socially than are fundamentalis&.Finally, those who would simply describe themselves as eelrlzr~gelic~ls may be as doctrinally strict as h ~ ~ & m e ~ l r a lbut i s bare more xnoderate in other respeds. If ferry Fa!w l l is the emblematic fundamentalist preacher today; Jimxny Swaggert and Pat Robertst3n stand for the charismatics, at least the conser~ativeones; f im Wallis for the neo-evangelicals; and RitfyGraham for the eyarzgelicals.

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Jerry Fal~velland most of the pastors allied with him are hndamental Baptists; they (but not all hjindamentai 13aptists) are both evangelical (yet still in some respects CaIvinIst) and i~rdependent(norzdenominatiorza1).They belong to the Baptist Bible Fellowship, a national network of preachers whose church xnexnbers number about 1.5 million (Mead and Hill 1985344). The Moral Majority, insofar as it is a grass roots organization, rides piggyback on the BBF (Liehman 1983) but draws support from the wider range of filndarnentafists and poiitically conservative charismatics and evangelicals. 2. I am here summarizing Heiris11 (1977). 3. Whitehead (1987) has an exceilexlt, critical review of this iiterature in her sttzdy of conversion arnclng Scientologists, 4, Evangelical social scientists and theologians have studied the secular literature 01% corzversion and generated their own. Elrner Towrrs, Dean of Jerry Faiwell" Liberty Baptist Serninary and a natioxlally h o w n researcher in the ""scier~ceof church growth," told me that the higl-rest rate of conversion ocaxrred amorzg prisorzers, the second I-righest arnong the bankrupt; he dso emphasized the importance of personal nemcjrks and of reaching people whiie they are " i n transitiorz" of some kind, The differer~cebetween Towns and secular social scientists is that Tc>wt-rswould never suggest any of these factiors realty causes coglversion; the Holy Spirit convicts sinilers and Christ saves them. 5 , This is how Bakl~tin 1981:282) described ordinary dialogue from the speker's point of view: "The speaker strives to get a reading 0x1 his own word, and 0x1 his own conceptual system that determines this word, within the aiien conceptual system of the uxzderstarzding receiver; he enters into dialogical relationships with certain aspects of this system, The speaker breaks throrxgh the alien conceptual horizorz ofthe listener, constructs I-ris owrr utterance on alien territory, against his, the listener", apperceptive backgrc>~~nd." 6. Compare Reverend Cantrell's language I-rere with these w r d s , wl-rich God spoke to &ekiel regarding the nation of Israel 16:44, King Jarnes Version): ""A11d as for tlzy nativity, in the day thou wast born thy navel was not cut, neither was thou washed in water to sl~pplethee; thou wast I I O ~salted at ail, nor swaddfed at all. None eye pitied thee, to do any of these unto thee, to have caxnpassioxl upon thee, hut thou wast cast out in the open field, to the loathing of thy person, in the day that thou wast born. And vvl-ren I passed by thee, and saw thee polluted in thine own blood, I s i d unto thee when thou wast in thy own blood, Live; yea, X said unto thee, when thou vast In thy blood, Live." 7. 111fact, the listener can never really make the s p m k r k speech his owt-r, Here is h ~ w Bakl-rtin (1981:293-294) described dialogue from the listener's point: of view: "As a living, socio-ideotogical concrete thing, as hetercogtot opinion, lang~age,for the indivicitlat consciousness, Iies 0x1 the borderlit~ebetween ogleself and the other, The word in language is haif aomeone else's. It becomes "one" sowt-r' ionly w1ze1-rthe spm"kr [that is, the listener becotxing a speaker] poptzlates it with his own intention, his own accent, when he ayyroyriates the word, adapting it to his own sernantic and expressive intention. Prior to this moment of appropriation, the word does not exist in a neutral language . . . , but rather it exists in other people's mouths, In other people's contexts, serving other people's intentions: it is from there that one rnl~sttake the word, and make it one" sown. . . . Exyrc>priatIng It, forcirzg It to submit to orzek own i~rtentionsand accents, is a difficrrlt and complicated p rtocess." 8. "It seerns to me that to explain what is involved in [witchcraft] sitllations sirnl7ly thy talking of the effect of suggestion is not sufficient, fix this is to do no more than to give a name to the very thing which is doubtful, . . . So the touchstone of witchcraft is not so rnuch the simple realization af a predictiorz or malediction, as the fact that it is take^ up by the bmitched, who becolxes the unwilling agexlt of fate" "avret-Saada t 980: f t 3-1 14).

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9, Perhaps, as William lames concluded about the divine, the orzly certai~zevidence of the reality that preoccupies et-hnograb?hers,of shared unconscious howledge, is experientiai. Faye Ginsbrrrg fpersorzalcammtlnication) prrt it this way: '%nthropologists approach sdf-alteration as a mode of knowing. Our epistemology requires that we alter ourselves in order to knotu." And Rarhara Myerhoff?In her last film, In Her Own Evte, said

This is what arhhropoiogists are taught to do. )"or1 study what is happening to others by understanding what is going on in you, and you yoursdf hecorne the hta-gatherIng Instrument. Yorx come from a culture, and you step into a new culture, and how you respond to the new one tells you about them, and it tetls you about the one you came from.

References Alter, Xtobert 1981. The Art of Biblical Narrative. New York: Basic Boo~S. Ammerxnan, N a n q 1986, The New South and the New Bai~tists,The Christian Century, 14 May:486--488. Kakl~tin,Mikltzail 1981. Discourse In the Noriei. IPZThe Dialogic Imagination: Forxr Essays by M. M. NaMztin, Michael E-lolquist,ed. pp. 259-422. A ~ ~ s t iUnivessitly ~l: of Texas Press. Karxxnan, Richard 1977,Verbai Art as Performance. In Verbal Art as IPerformance.Richard Nattman, @d.pp. 3-58, Prc>spectHei&ts, fL: braveland Press. 13orker, ltuth n.d, The Presentatiu~zof the Gospel in Everyday Life. U~~published maxiuscript. Favret-Saada, feanne 1980. Deadly 'bZrords:Witchcraft in the Bocage. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gallup, George 19882, The Gallup Report: Religion In America, Princeton: Prirzceton Religion Research Center, Gral~arn,Billy 1983, Approacl~ingHoofheats: The Four Horsernen of the Apocalypse. 'bZTaco,TX: Word Books. Heirich, Max 1977. A Change of Heart: A Test af Some Widely Held Theories about Rel4g i u ~ Conversion. ~s Arnerican Journal of Sociology 83(3):653-680. Hill, Samuel S, 19885, The Satrtb and the North in hnerican Xteligion, Athens: U~~iversity of Georgia Press. James,WiIliam 19006,txarieties of fteligious Experience. New York Collier Books, Jules-Rosette, Kenneta 1976. The Conversiort Experience: The Apostles of John Maranke. Journal of Rejigion in Africa li"(2f:132-164. KanQer, Kenneth 1988. The Charismatics Among Us, Christianity Tbday 24 (22 February):25-29. Liebman, Robert C. 1983, Mobilizing the Moral Majority Iut The New Cl~ristianRight: Mobilization and Legitimation. Kohert C. LLebman and Kobert Wuthnow, eds. pp, 49-73. H a ~ b o r n eNV: , Aidine. Mead, Frank S,, and Samuel S. Hill 1985. Handbook of Denominations in the United States. Nashvilte: Abington Press. Myerhoff, Rarhara, and Lynn Littman 1986, Xn Her Qwrx Time, Fifrn. Wardin, AIbert W, Jr. 1980.13aptist Atlas. Nashville: Boardman Press. Whitel~ead,Harriet 1987, Renunciation and Refarmuiation: A Study of Conversion in An American Sect. fthaca: CcimeIl University Press.

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Suggested Additional Readings

These suggested readings are presented as a beginning point for further inquiry or research. Tlsey all include general theoretical issues and/or comparative study af the subject. Readers are also directed to the references in the part introductions and references cited in individtral cha yters for tzurther suggested readings.

The Anthrapoloa af Religion: Hlst.ovpTheovpApproaches Glazier, Stelsrhen D., ed. 199'7 Anthr-lngy c?fReligion:A Ilundbook, Fliestport, Coxln.: Greenwod Press. Eliade, Mircea, ed, t 987 The Ertcyclopedia cfReligion. New York: Free PressiMacrnillal~. Klass, Morton 1995 Orderecl Uizivenes:Aj~j~rouches .so ~heAntlilro$~oEogy ofXeligiorz,Boulder. Westview. Lehmann, Arthur C, and farnes E. Myers, eds. 19997 Mugic, Witcl?cr~kft, und Efe RelQion: An Anthrc~~~ological Study ($the Szdj~ernaruml,4th ed. Mo11ntai11View>Cafif.: Mayfield. Lessa, William Armand, and Even Z. Vogt, eds. 1979 Ratder in C o m l ~ ~ r n iXelighrz: i ~ ~ e Auz Anthrt111ologica2Ayyrrouch. 4th ed. New York: Harper and Row. Norbeck, Edwrzrd X974 Religion ius %Ium~irt"li;Fe: Arz&ropokogicul Views, New York: HoXt, Rinehart, and Winstcla, Studies of Relighuz: An Introductclry Ext* Cambridge: Morris, Xft-ian 1987 Ant/~ro~~okogic~~l Cambridge University Press. Pandian, Jacob t 991 Ctllt~rg~ Religion, muzd the Sacred SeF A Criticc~lhtrodtrction to the Antizro{~oEogicwlStrrdy of Religion, Engievvood Cl iffs, N.f .: Prentice-Hall. 2 hnscendent Nir Sales, Be~lsoaf 993 C:t~ncepttializirzg Religlarz: It~zmonerz An tPzri~pof~~gz'sis, lives, urzd Unl~oundC3lillegories. Leiden: E. f. Brill.

Religion, Calonialism, and bstcoloniaf Legacies Asad, TaIal 1993 C2enealngies of Religion: IJiscif~lirzemrzd Reltsons of Po~terin Christiauzity U M LIslr;rm, ~ Ua1timt)z-e: Johns Hopki~lsUniversity Press. arzd The Chlouzinl Encounter+4th printing. Atlantic Asad, Taial, ed. 1988 Awzthro~~ology Press. Hi@stands,N. J.: H~~manities Cohn, Bernard S. 1987 An Ant/trf~pohogist Arrrortg the I1istt)rians muzd Other Essays. Oxford: Oxlford University Press, Coxnoroff;John, and Jean Cornoroff 1992 The Colonizariouz c$ Consciousness. In Iithuzogra1h-y urtd the E1ist~)ricuEImugi~zution,pp. 3-48. Borrlder: Westnriew Press, Dirks, Nicholas, ed. f 992 Chlotziafismund C:ulture. Ann Arbor: Ulliversity cif Michigan Press.

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Religion, Gender, and Sexuality Kehar, Rutl~,and Deborah A. Gordon, eds. 19995 IVomeuz IVrititzg CZznErure*Kerkeley: University of California Press. Brink, Judy, and Joan Mencher, eds. 1997 &WixeclR1essi~zgs:C;ender and Religious firtdament(2lism Cmss CuEtzaraEIy New York: Routledge. Carmody, Denise Laxdner 1989 w~merr and World Religions, Engimood Cliffs, W.J.: Prelztice-Hall. Coxinell, El. BT. 19295 Masculinities. 13exkeley: Uniwrsity of Calihrnia Press. Gross, Rita M. 1996 Femhisrn and Religkn: An I~trrtducrion.Bostt~rr:Beacon Press.

The Healing Touch and atered States Kodd.r, Jar~ice1994 ""Spirit Pr~ssessiorzRevisited: Kepnd Xnstrumentality." AnrtznaE Revie~j cfAnthrcjpology 23:407-434. Korrrginon, Erikrn 1976 Vnssmzon. San Francisco: Chandler and Sharp. Kalwet. H. 11 988 Llrmmtt'me and Inrzer-Space: The World r$tl.ze Shamarz, New York: Random House. Tc~wnsend,f oan 1997 ""Sarnanism." In Azzt?zroj>ok<~gy (f ReEigitm: R ILiundtrook, Ed. Steven D. Glazier, pp, 429-470. Westport, Conn,: Greeriwood Press. brinkelman, M. 1992 ""Shamans, Priests, and brirches. A Cross-Cultural Biosociat Study of Magico-fteligious Practitioners." Anthroj?ologicc~lResearcl2 p a yers no, 44, Arizona State University.

Refigion and the State Cornhs-SchiIling, M,E. 1989 Sacred Verforlrziznces: Islatrz, Sexuulit;y, urtd Sucrqictp, New York: Columbia University Press. Kertzer, David I, 1988 RitalaE, P~Eitl'cs~ ~tndhwer, New Haven: )"ale University Press, Marty; Martin E., and W, Scott Appleby, eds 1993 &ndamentmlism and the State: Remakitq Polities, Mililurzce, ~ n cI:'cnr~omies. i Chicago: University of Chicago Press, Myers, Kubert f., ed. 1986 Religirtzz arzcl the Slate: The Struggle &3r Legilimacy und Power-. 13everiy Hills, CaIif,: Sage Publications. Rr~dolph,Susanne Hoeber, and farnes Piscatori, editors 1997 'IhnsrrtziirtzzafReligion and 1;ircding Stt~tcas. Xfouider: Westview.

Changes and C-ontinui.ties Lwis, I. M , l996 Religion in Context: Ctdts and Churl'sma, 2d ed. Caxnbridge: Cambridge University Press. Smith, Jollatlzan Z. 1982 Imaginhg Religion: From Babylout to Jt~nestsloutn.Chicagu: University af Chicago Press. briIstin, Bryasl R. 1973 Magic arzcl the Mllenniunz: R SocioEogicul Study r$Religious hil~l~etrzents tlfProies,clAwzong DibaE und 7"hz'rd-WorM Peoj~Ees,New York: Harper and Row. bri,rsley, Peter 1968 jlke 'l'rtl~zj?etShall Sound: R Stucly of 'C:tlrgoW Cults itz hiltlarzesia. 2d augmented ed. New York: Scbocken 13ooks.

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Credits

Nih, Voram, "The Woman Who 'bZEraated31Be Her Father: A Case Analysis of Dybbuk b s session in a Wasidic Community;""Jc>urnabof Psychout~abyticAnthrt~pology8C 1) (Winter 1985): 11-27. Reprillted by permissior~. Elliston, Ueborall A,, "Erotic Anthropology: "Ritualized Homosexuality" in Melanesia and 13eyond." Reproduced by permission of the American A~lthropologicaIAssociatioll from Americarz Etlzrzofr?gisl22(4): Piic9vcmber 11395. Not for further reproductic>n, Fried, Mortoa H., ""Keflections o a Christianity in China." Reproduced by permission of the American AnthropoIogicai Associatio~zfrom Americt~nE8h:hnologist 14(1): February 1987. Not for further reyrt~duction, Godschalk, fan A., and Giay, Benrty, "Cargoism in Irian faya Tc~day,"Clcmrzia S3(4): June 19993. lteprinted by permissioxl. Greenfieid, Sidlley M,, "Hypnosis and Trance Xrrdtlction in the Surgeries of 1)irazilianSyiritist Healer-Medium Reprc>dtlcedby permission of the Arnerisan Anthropotogical Associatioll from The Antj~rtapnhogycfConciousnes?ss2(3-4): 1991. Not for h-urther reproduction. Hardi~lg,Susan F., ""Comicted by the Holy Spirit: The Rhetoric of F~tnda~nentai Baptist CotlversionP Xkproduced by permission of the American AnthropolclgicaI Association 1987. Not for tinrther reproduction, from Arnericarz Ethrzofogisl 14(2): Febl-~~ary Hallan, Douglas, "Pockets Full of Mistakes: The Persoaaf Gonseqrtences of Religious Change in a Toraja Village," d)cealzia 58(3): June 1988, Xtepxirrted by permission. Johnson, Benton, ""On Founders and Followers: Some Factors in the Development of NW Retigic>usMc>vemeats"%eprinted by permission from Suciotogical Arzaiysis 53S, 11392: S1-S13. Coiyyright by the Assc~ciationfor the Sociology of Itdigion. Kenyon, Susall M., "Ear as Modernization in Coiltexnyorary Sudan." ArttIzl-u~~ologicaI Quarterly 68(2): April 1995. Reprinted by permission, Napolitano, Vajentina, "Becoming a Mujercitu: Rituals, Fiestas, and Religious Discourses." Mc~n(N.S.) 3: September 1988. Reprinted by yermissian,

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Qlsorz, Ernelie A., ""Musiirn Identiv and Seclrlarisrn In Contempcrrary Turkey: T11e Headscarf Disk?tzte:""Ant/zrtapologicab Quaslclrly 58(4): October 1985. Xteyrinted by pertxission, Powers, Marla N., "Menstrttatioa and Kepr(>dtlctic->n: An Oglala Case," Sz'gas: lotlrnul Wisurrewz in Culture and Societx 6(1): Autumn 1980. Cclpyright by the University of Chicago. Regri~ztedby perxnission of the University af Chicago Press, Savishinsky; Neil J.,"Traasnational Popular Culture and the Globat Spread of the Jamaican ltastafa'arian Mwement." New West _IndianC ~ U J I ~68(3-4): E 1994, Eleprinted by permission, Sered, Susan, "The Domestication of Religion: The Spiritual Guardianship of Elderly Jew~ 23(3):Seytexnber 1988. Xteprirrted by permission. ish Women," M Q (N.S.) Sergei, Kail, '%"Shamanismand Christianity: Modern-Day Ttingit Eiders Look at the Past." Erhnohz'stczl.y 38(4):Fall 1991, 363-387. Cclpyrigl~t1991, Society for Ethnohistory. ltegrinted by permission of Duke University Press. Shayiro, Juditb, ""Froxn TupB to the Land Without Evil: The Christianizatio~lof TupiGuarani Ccrsmolog-)i" Keproduccd by permission of the America11Anthrol~ologicatAssociation from Amencan Ethnologist- 14f1): February 1987, Not for furtiler reprodustion. Sharp, Lesley A,, "Exorcists, Psychiatrists, and the Prclblerns of bssessioa in Northwest Madagascad3teprinted fmlx Social ScienceMedicine 38(4): 19'34 with permission fram Elsevier Science, Stipe, CIaude E., "Anthropologists Vers~~s Missionaries: The Influence of Presuppositions," Current Arztfiropologjf21 (2): April 1980. Eleprinted by permissioxl of the University of Chicago Press. Wreller, Kobert R, "Bandits, Beggars, and Gllosts: The Faiiure of State Control over Keliginus Interpretation in Taiwan," 1Teproduced by yermissioll of the American Anthroyological Association from Amer-icurz Ethi.rnoEogbt 12(1): February 1985. Not for further reproductior~. Whiteiey, Peter M,, "The Interpretation of Politics: A Hayi Conundrum;"\Wan (N.S.) 22(4): Uecernher 1988. Reprinted with permission.

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Index Aheel, David, 70-7 1 Africa, 355-358. See ~12~0 sj?eci/iccol$~ztries Alcnm, 333 Altered states of crsnxiousness (ASC), 6, 159-160,2f 1 - 2 1 2 , 2 1 8 Alter, Robert, 394 Aluk, 258-263,267(n l51 Aluk Nene', 255,257,266(~9) Ancestors, 117 hanoring in Jewish traditions, 99- 101, 105 statlis in Taiwanese pantheon, 273 as trrttrzfiuspirits in Madagascar, 158- 169 wrshiy of In Indonesia, 257 and zcar activity in Sudan, 234 Anchieta, Jos4de, 26 Animal sacrifice, 260-21;1,33 1-333 Anthropologists, 11-2 1 conflicts with xnissionaries, 11-1 3 ctxltrxral study methods, 8,39(n2 1 ) perceptiotl of missionaries, I R- 19 percepfiorl of ""yrirnitive"kcultrtres, 13-1 4,325 reIigious beliefs of, 16- 18,38 1-40 1 Antigua, 350 Arzuktfe (Ogtala religious figure), 91 Arikan, "fiirkarz,293 ASC. See Altered states of consciorxsness Ataturk, Mustafa Kemal, 293,295-297, 299-300 Atkinson, J,, 254 Atonement for wrongdoing changing corlcei?tsin Ixtdonesia, 253-270 corzfession as, 259-26 l irl 014 Testament, 393-394 sacrifice as, 259-26 1 Australia, 12,358-359

At1t hor ity disting~islledfrom power, 249-250 in Hopi society, 3304,3 12-3 14,319 See also Founders of religious rnovernents Baker, Roshi, 372 Bakhtin, Miaail, 400(1ln 5,7) Barldits, See Marginal yopt~tations Baptists, co~~versiorl aperiences arnc>ng, 381-401 13arth, F,, 3113 Nura deIz'm~,333-334 Barxxnan, Richard, 388 Beggars, See Marginal p o p ~ t l a t i o ~ Berg, David, 373-376,378 Bergmarl, Billy, 356 13ilu, "iiuram, 1136-2 10 13lacks. See ltastafarianisrn Blondy, Alpha, 364(n25) Borker, Ruth, 382 Borxz-again Christians, 300,38 1-401 Boxer KebeHicjn, 73-74 Brarldt, W., 307 13razil,10,23-4 1,2 11-226 accounts of healer-xnediurns,212-2 17 progressive church in, 3 1-36 Syiritist trance states, 2 17-222 See also Tt~pi-Grraranipeople Buddhism, 63-64,75-78 Buiks, Peter, 354 13urridge, Klenelrn Q., 11,18, 113(n3) 13ushotter, George, 89,95(n21)) Campl~arproduction, 277-279 Canada, 352 Cannibalism, 27 Cantreil, Milton, 38&399 Cargo cults, 327,329-346

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among Ejtupla people, 337-339,342-343 arnong Me people, 3301-334,342-343 and missicinaries, 335-336 motives far, 343-345 trigers for, 342-343 among Western Dani, 334-337,342-343 and West Melanesia movement, 339-344 Caribbean, 349-35 1 Casatdiligd, Uom Pedro, 33-36 Catholic church Catholic Action, 38(n16) In China, 67-7 1, 73 Christian Rase Communities, 114-1 15, 128(r11) fifteenth birthday celebration (Mexico), 115-1 16,113-121 progressive, 3 1-33 trourrhu possessinn and, 172 See also Nissio~saries Cavaica~ltede Queiroz, Edson, 2 X 1, 223-216 Cerernclnies and rituals fc~rappeasing ghosts, 27 1-290 for correcting mistakes, 258-259 for doing harm to others, 3 15 domestic rituals, 103-1 07 failure of state control over, 27 1-290 for fertility 85-86, 122-2 23 form and content of, 119-12 1 in fundamentalist Christian semices, 384 for healing. See Exorcisxn; Healermediums, Spiritist; Healing for l~unting,148-149 rnisappiication of "",fymbolismm term, 305 New Moon Festival (Jewishtradition), 104105 for yIariising destiny, 3 15-3 16 for ytzrification, 140-1 41, 145-147,258, 267(n20) rites of passage. See I~~itiatic)~~ rites and ritttals secret ritual k;rrr>wledge,307-3 16, 32 1(nS) Universal Saiviltiors (Pudu) ritual (Taiwan),271-290 and violence, 142-143,275-280

w0111enS roles in, 103-106 zar coffee parties (Sudan), 237-239, 245(nn 15,171 Charisma, 368,373,377-379 Ch'ien Lung, 69 Children, 101-1 03. See dso Initiation rites and rituals Chiictren of God movement, 370-376 China, 63-80 anti-Christian sentiment, 69-74 Catholic church in, 67-71,73 early Christiian presence, 66-69 limited spread of Christianity 75-78 pre-Cllristian religion, 63-66 Protesta~ltisrnin, 70-7 1,74 Taiping and Boxer Rebellions, 72-73 See also Taiwall Christ Cammtzne, 371,377 Christiar~Rase Communities, 114-1 16, 119,128(ni) Christianity, 190 and atonement for wro~~gdoiing (Indonesia), 253-270,261 tblerided with local religion, 23,2628, 42-44,46,67-68,257-258 in China. See China and extinctior~of iocal religion, 44-47, 6849,78( n6) and Mastafrtrianism,358,363(n15) in Taiwa~l,74-76 in Tlingit culture, 44-47 types of evangelical Cl-tristians,399(n1) U, S, f~rndarnentalisrn,300,381-401 See also Conversion; Missionaries;

spec$c dennmiuaui^invrs Christian Scie~lcemovement, 374 375 Church of Scientotol)~; Class divisions. See Social hierarchies Cliff, Jimtny, 364jn22) Clothing, See Dress Coffee parties (Sudan), 237-239,24C;(rzn 15, 17) Collier, J., 130(nl l ) Colonialism, 7-1 0 anti-cc3lorsiaIist religious movements, 364(113I). See also liastafdrianisxn subjugation and extinction of native peoptes, 26

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See also Boxer Rebellion; Missionaries; Taiping Kehdlion Cotson, Elizabeth, 15 Coxnrnunism (China), 74 Coxlfession, 259-21; 1 Confucianism, 65-66 Conversion Baptist fundarnentaiist, 381-401 in China, 75 as part of exc)rcism, 179-1 80, 11 32 resistance to, 25 See also Missionaries Cogtic Churcll (Ethiopian Zion), 35 1 Cosmology, 91-92,95(n22) Coular~der,Fustel de, 96 Criminals. See Marginaf populations Csordas, T., 165-167,186 Cultuml Anthropology: A Cont-caun~lo~ztr~~ Persptrctive (Keesing), 12 Dancing, l l R Dani izeople, 15- Z6,330,33&337,342, 34SCnl) David, Moses, 370 Davis, G., 266265 Dederieh, Chuck, 376,378 Deere, Philip, 87 Deer women (Oglala people), 92 De GrB, Father L~lis,28 Dervish brc>therhoc>ds,296 Deuif, 26-28> 38(nl l f Dzvreux, VV~S, 24-25,277;-28,30,37(n4) IJialogue c m the Conversiolz @the Savt~ges (Nobrega), 24 Dianetics, 375 Dietary restrictiorzs, 26 l , 264 Disease, See Iltrless; Misfortune Divine Light Mission, 374 Domestication of religion, 96-1 12 Doxninica (island), 350,363(n9) Double Mioman Cult (Ogiala people), 91 Douglas, Mary, 87 Dress headscarf d i s y ~ ~(Turkey), te 29 11-302 in Otto~nanempire, 296 as politica t symbol, 29 1-302 prohibitiori of fez, 2)3&297 Drugs marijuana use In Rastafarianism, 350-352,357,361

peyote use arnong Native Americans, 352 Dybbiik pc>ssessionf E ~ ~ r t ~ p Jews)* ean 19(4--210 case sttrdies of, 20tl-208 documentation of, 1%-197 exorcism of, 198- 199,207 manifestations of, 197- 139 psychiatric view of, 199-200,205 Ectlnornies, See Socioecot~ornicchange Eddy, Mary Baker, 374 Edrem, Mihriban, 292-293 Eggan, F., 304 Eidel, See Rokach, Eidel Elderly people, 28 1-282 Elijah the Prophet, 100 Elirn Tabernacle, 374,377 Elliston, lleborrzh A,, 82,133-1 58 Exligfand, 352-355 Erclticism of semen practices, 138, 141-142,149-152 Esdaile, fames, 2 18 Eternal life concept. See Elejuvenatianfetertz"a1life concept Ethiopia, 355 Ethiopian Zion Cogtic Cburcll, 351 Europe, 352-355 Evangelical Christians, 399(x11), See also Born-again Cllristiarls Evans-Pritchard, E, E., 416-17 Exarcism, 163-1 95 of djfl~bukspirits, 198-1W9,207 efficacy of treatment, 186- 192 empc3werment of the patient, 190-191 faith healix~gcenters, t 76- 182, 187 of trumbci spirits, 173-182 Faith healing centers, 176-182, 187 Falwell, lerry, 38 1,400(n t ) Family, 72,96,107, 109fnn 1,6) and fernale srricides, 282 fiAeenth birthday celebration and, 121-123 memhers\elatiunships, 100- 102 support in heating process, t 87-188 wornen as spiritual guardians of, 99-101 See also Kinship systelns Fav~t-Saada,Jeanne, 386 Feasts, communal, 259,33 1-333

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Feng sbrzai, 65 Fertility cults, 154(n12). See also Eleprodttction, sexual Fez, prohbition of, 296297 Fifteenth birthday celebration (Mexico), 113-132 formatlparticipat~ts,130(n6) history of, 115- 116 motives fbr celebrating, 11 24-128 symhojism of, 121-1 23 traditional process of, I 17-119 FJKM. See Malagasy Church of Jesus Christ Flood stories, 257 Fogetsoxz, Raymotld D., 42 Food, symbolism of, 146-1 49. See ~1f%7 Feasts, communal; Offerir~gs Fotxcatrlt, M,, 3 12,3 19-320 Forzllders of religious movements, 367-380 burn-out among, 375 diivisian from t;r>!lowers, 37 1-372 exzhancernent of charisma, 369-37 1 i~lsulationfrom criticissn and daily Me, 372 personal characteristics of, 36G369, 377-379 retations with staff, 372-378 and srxivival or denlise of their movements, 378-379 Fratlce, 354-355 Frazcr, Sir lames, 3-4,87,108 Fried, Mortcla H., 10,63-78 Fritz, Adolph, 2 19 Fulldamelltalistn fundamer~talistBaptist co~~version, 381-401. Islarnic revival in Turkey, 291-302 Gahuku-Gasna people, 11 42-143,145-146, l48 Gambia, 356 Ganja. See Marijuarza Gaivey, Marcus, 359 Gates, Hilf, 2881~5) Gender issrres, 136-137,143-145. See d s o Men; Woxnen Geoma~lcy,65 Ghana, 356-358 Ghosts. See Spirits and ghosts Giay, Ben~~y, 327,329-346

GiHigan, Carol, 98,108,l 10(n10) Ginsburg, Faye, 40 f (119) Giropari people, 27-28 Glass, Henry, 48 God, 37(n7) in Baptist Eundarnentaiism, 38 1-40 1 in Chinese religions, 64,66,68 in Toraja religion, 257 in Tupi-Guarani religion, 23,27--28, 33-34,38(nl0) See also Supernaturai beings and powers Godschalk, Tan A,, 327,32%346 Grahmm, Billy; 399(n1) Gramsci, A., 3 14 Greenfield, Sidney M,, 2 1 1-226 Grenada, 350 Grimston, Kclbert de, 377 Gua&alajara, Mexico, 113-129, 129(n3) Guarani people. See Tupi-Guarani people Guur~diauzsof the i~luce,The (Herdt), 133 Grxyana, 363(n9)

Hctlachu, 98,109(nn 4,s) Hasnid, Ansley, 350 Hannerz, Ulf, 362(n5) Harding, Susan F., 328,38f -401 Hats, 296-297 Havastxpai people, 35 1-352,36311 14) Hayard, Doriglas, 334-336 Headscarf dispute (Turkey), 291-302 Healer-snediums, Spiritist (Brazil), 2 11-226 accounts of healing, 2 12-2 17,223(n13) 13atierttsof, 222(n6) techniques of, 2 18-2 19,223(n 10) trance states of, 2 X 9-220 Healing in Brazil, See Healer-mediums, Spiritist empowerment of the patient, 190-11 3 1 faith healing celzters, 176-182,187 gauging success of, 165-167 by IJhilippino healers, 222(n3) status of Ilopi I~ealers,308 by Sudanese zar, 227-230 See also Exc>rcism;Medicine; Sha~nanism Herdt, Gilbert, 133- 139 Herzog, E,, 202 Higins, John, 377-378 Ffigh. VItlle).; The (Read), 142

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Hinduism, 266(nr?t2,8) Holland, 354 Hollan, Douglas, 250,253-270 Holy books, 257 Homosexuality, 133-140 defining identiv through, 138-140, 153(rzl ) female, 153(n5) geographical distributic~n,154(n10) ritualkation of, 138-139 used as hierarchical term, t 54(n9) Hopi people, 303-323 ceremonies fbr planni~zgdestiny, 315-317,319 class diivisliom, 306-3 10 coercion and consent to authorit5 312-314,319 early cl-troniclersof, 304 Oraibi split, 309-3 10,3 16-2117 secret ritual lmowIedge, 307-3 16 Tribal council, 3 18 mntieth-century cllanges and continuities, 3 17-320 HSII Kuang-ch"i, 71 Hubbard, L, Ran, 375 Hung Wsiu-cguan, 72 Hunting, 148-149 Htxizla people, 330,337-339,342,345(n l ) Huxa people, 147 Hypnotic trances. See Altered states of co~~scio~~s~~ess Ignatius of Loyoia, 2 19 I Ho Tuan. See Boxer Rebelliall Illness, 49,54,159-16Q,258,268(rz27). See also Misfortune Indonesia arnhitralence toward Christian morality, 261-265 cargo cults, 327,32"3346 collrroi of Melanesia, 335 Dutch missiorzaries, 256-257,335-336 founding prit-rciplesof natiorz, 253-254 religious change, 253-270 traditional co~lceptsof morality, 258-263 W s t Melanesia xnovernent, 339-3194 See also IVfela~lesia Initiation rites and rituals, 92-94, 134-136, 14Oo141,154fn12)

fear and violence during, 11 42-143 female puberty rite (Qglala), 85-86, 88-9 1 fifieenth birthhy celebration (Mexico), 113-129 Kaluii manl~aodritrxai, 148-1 49 themes of, 152 Irian Jaya, 327,329-344 Irvine, Wrijliarn, 377-379 Islam, S6 abolition of fez, 2%-2'37 attexnpts to disestablish Islam in Turkey, 295-296 headscarf dispute In Turkey, 291-302 1rclmt9cr possession and, t 72-1 73 zar practice and, 241-242

h~bauzu,See Coffee parties (Sudax~) Jamaica. See ltastafarianisxn James, William, 382 Jeffreys*George, 374-375,377 Jesuits, 26-27 Jesus, See Ccinversion, Baptist fi~ndamentafist Jigalong Mob, 12 Johnsoxl, 13eritox1,328 Jones, Jim, 369-370,372 Judaism f European) dybbzrk possessiorz, 19G208 women as spiritual leaders, 203-208, 209(n2) Juhism (Orient-al) domestication of religion, 96-98 famiiy relationships, "3-103, t 0qn4) Sahhatai Swi mojvement, 36&369 wrnen's religious duties, 98-99, 103- 1116 Kachinas, 3 15-3 16 Kaliai people, 147 Kal~ilipeople, 148-f 49 K'aang Hsi, 69 Kan, Sergei, 10,42-62 Kardecism. See Healer-mediums, Spiritist; Spiritism Kary, I, 191 Kendrrll, LattreI, 326 Kenyan, Sugan M,, 227-247 Kikmnrgwi, 309-3 1Q, 3 1 7,32O(xz3), 32 1 (n6)

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Kinship systems marginality of elderly population, 282 marginatity cif kinless people and ghosts, 274-275 and secret rit~iaIknowledge, 307-3 16 See also Family Kleinman, A, I64 Knaufi, Rruce M., 1541nn 9,11) Kcihlberg scale of moral development, 108 Kciru, Dr. See Headscarf dispute (Turkey) Krishnamtzrti, 368-369,375 Laicism, 295,298-299 "Land withot~tevil" concept f Tk~piGuarani people), 28-3 1,33-36, 38(n13) Legge, James, 71 LCvi-Slrauss, C, 165 Lwis, Diane, 14-1 5 Lowie, Robert W., 18 Maddgascar, 163-195 ethnic liistory of, 167-168 faith heating ce~lters,11 76-182, 187 Protestant exorcists and, 173-1 75 See also %mba possession Mahal-aj-Ji,Guru, 374-375 Maliarislli Mahesh Yogi, 376375,378, 379(n4) "Maiden of Ludmir," 206207 Malagasy Church of Jesus Christ (Madagawar), 173,177-1 82 Malagasy people, See Madagasar Malm, Kristew, 349 Mandelbaum, Daviid G,, 83 Mao Tse Tung, 74 M~qasluluvcl,3 13-3 14 Marginal populations ghosts as metaphors for, 272-283 and Rastafarianism, 347-366 Marijuana, use in lZast;lbriax~isxn,350-352, 357,361 Marley, Bob, 351-352,355-357,3(i3(n22) Marriage and female s~iicides,282 ghost marriage, 275 Martyrdom, 369 Medicine, "7,159-161,1"3(n43), 21 l biomedicine, 164- 165 In China, 65

psychiatric treatment of possession, 165-166,182-185 shamanism and, 56-57 in Sudan, 232 See also Exorcisxn; Wealer-mediurns, Syiritist; Healing; Psychiatry Mellirzakcl people, 150-3 5I Mrissner, Linda, 376 Mrfanesia, 133-1 58,329-346 cargo cults. See Cargo cults initiation rituals of the Samhia, 140-143 semen practices, 135- 1353 sexuality as persotzal identity, 138-1 40 social hierarchies associated wit11 initiation rituals, 143-146 Mra abolition of fez, 296-297 in Hoyi society, 306 reproductive stages, 95(n29) ritualized tzomosrmality. See Homosexuality Merzstruation, 85-87,92-94 Mratal illness, 159, 163-171,170(table), l 8 1-182. See ulso Exorcism; Healermediums, Spiririst; Healing; P~ssession;Psychiatry Me people, 330---334,342,344(~1) Mesmer, Franz Anton, 2 X R Mexico. See Fikeeth birthday celebratiorz Milne, Hugb, 371,375 Misfc~rtune as resuit of witchcralir, 3 13-3 14 as retribution for wrongdoing, 258-263, 268/1127),313 Missiorzaries, 8- 1Q Boxer Rebelfion and, 73-74 and cargo cults, 335-339 Ghristia~lityblended with local religion, 23,2&28,46,257--258 ctlnfiicts with anthropologists, 11-1 3 culture stlidy xnethodology, 39(n2 f ) Drrtch missionaries in Indonesia, 256257,335 and exti~lctionof tcjcal retigicJn, 4&47 perceptii~nof indigenous peoples, 23-25 13r""ogressivechurch xnissiollaries in Brazil, 31-36 proselytizing rnethods of, 23,25--25, 45-46

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shamanism and, 47-49 See atso Christianity MongcjLs, S 6 6 7 Moon, Sun Mytrng, 374 Moore, H,, 123 Morality Christian concept of sin and atonement, 25 1 confession and sacrifice as paying a debt, 260 in Hopi st~ciety,3 13 in Indonesia, 253-270 misfortune as retrihrrtion fbr wrongdoing, 258-263,268(n27),3 13 religious hnctionaries for identi@ing wrongdoing, 259-260 stages of development, 108-109 Moral Majority, 400(n1) Morrisot~,Robert, 70 Mgjercit~z,See Fi&eenth birthdify celebration Muktananda, Swami, 372 Music, reggae, 347-366 Myerhoff, LXarbara, 40 1(n9) iVuhelt~n-kabelan,335-336 Nagata, S., 306-308 Nayolitano, Valentina, 82, 113-1 32 Native Americans (North America). See Havas~ipaipeople; Hopi peopIe; Oglala people; Pueblo peopfe; Tlin@t 13eople New Moon, Festiwl of (Jmish tradition), 104-1 05 New Zealand, 359-360,364(nn 30,3 1,) Nien Rebelliorz, 72 Nigeria, 356 Nohrega, Manuel, 24-27 Nurturance, in initiation rites, 146-347 O%~rien,Denise, 15 Qfferi~zgs,272-276. See also Animal sacrifice; Sacrifices Ogfala people, 83,85--95 female pt~bertyrite, 88-9 1,95(n22) female reprodrxctive stages, 92-94 female symbols and metaphors, "3-92 male reproductive stages, 95(n29) de Otiveira Kios, Antbnio, 2 1 t , 2 X 6-21 7 Qlsorz, Erneiie A,, 250,291-302

Ong, A., 190 Organic-tinity concept, 13-14 Ortner, Sllerry U,, 87 Pabrik, 330-333 Pacamorzt f Shaman), 28 Paganism, See Shamanis~ft Paku Asu, Indonesia, 256 Pappas, G., 165,191 Papua New Guinea, 133 Paraguay, t 0,23-41. See also Tuyi-Guarani peopte Parker, Peter, 65, 7 1 Pasiuni, 3 15 l>lzvunsz^nom,306-308,3 11-3 13,317-3 18, 320(n2) l>emulz',258-263,26711115) Peyote Cult, 352,363jn 15) Pllilipy ines, 222(n3) Pintupi people, 151 PEf~ciugthe Ileud (Rloch), 188 Ploeg, Axttorz, 1C; Pc>yufarculture, transnatiunat Kastafaria~l movement, 347-366 Possession, 159-160,165-171, 178-185, 227-229,244(n10) characteristics of, 17O(tahie) efficacy of treatment, 186-191 medicallgsychiafric view of, 165- 166, 182-1 86,207-208 possession sickness, 169- 171, 170(table), 178-182 types of, 197-198 See also IJyhbuk possession; Pombu possession; Zar spirits Powderxnaker, Hortense, 11 Power disting~isl~ed from authorit5 249-250 and Hopi coercion and cansent to authority; 3 12-3 14,3 1(3 indistinct iine between legitimate and illegitimate power (Taiwan), 274 invalid politicallrefigious distinction, 312-316,319 legitimate and nr>n-legitimatecontexts for (Wopi), 3 14-3 16 men's assertion of, t 42-146 13ohtical vs. reiigious, 304-305 and secret ritual knowledge (Hapi), 307-3 3 6

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state attempts to limit religious power f Tt~rkey),295-296 See atso Social hierarchies Powers, Marla N., 83,85-95 Presbyterian Cl~urch,45-46 Process, The (religic)us mc)vement),377 Prostitrxtes. See Margitaai popuiations Protestantisxn in China, 70-71,74,77 faith healing centers, 11 76-182 possession and exorcism, 165-167, 171-175,186-191 See also Baptists, conversion experiences amorzg; Missionaries; Presbyteriara church Pseudohermaphroditism, 136-1 37 Psychiatry, 164- 165 treatment of possession, 182- 185 vs, sirramanism, t 65 Puberty rites. See Initiatioll rites and ritrxals Puehlo people, 14 Purification rituals, 11 40-141,145-1146, 258,267(n20) Puysgur, Marquis de, 2 Z 8

Qaleray rnout~wi,309-3 10,314,317, 32 If1161

QuirzceBerra,See Fifteenth birthday celebration Rajneesh, Bhawan Sllree, 368-372, 375-376,378 ltangex, Terence, 358 Rasta fa rianism, 347-366 In Africa, 355-358 beliefs and practices, 350-352,357-361 in the Caribbean, 349-351 in Earok~e,352-355 negative perceptions of, 351-352,354, 360 In North America, 35 1-352 In the Pacific, 358-359 reggae's role in spread of, 347-366 Read, Ke~lnethE,, 142-143 Redemption, 393-394 lteggae music, 347-366 XtejttvenationleternaI life concept In cargc) cults, 327,334-335 In Christianity, 393-394

Religion, domestication of, 96-1 112 Religious freedom headscarf dispute (Turkey), 29 11-302 and marijuana use in Elastafarirznism, 350-352 Keiigiorrs leaders and distinction between authority and power, 250 in I-lopi society, 304,307-3 16,319 and secret ritual knowledge, 3117-3 16 See also Founders of religious movernents; Power Keiigiorrs movements complexities of, 326 division bemeen founders and followers, 37 1-372 founderlstaff relationships, 372-378 fundarnexitatist Christianity, 300, 38 1-40 1 Xslarnic revival in Turkey, 299-300 resporxses to increase In size and compiexity, 369-373 rc>utiniziingprtjcesses, 373-378 sumivat or demise of, 378-379 See also Founders of religious movernents; spec$fic moveurrents Keprodrrction, sexual, 88-92 fernale stages of, 92-94 b l k knwledge of, 103 male stages of, 95(n29) rituals associated with, 85-86, 122-11 23 See also Fertility cults lthetoric, in h ~ ~ h t n e n t a lBaptist is~ conversion, 38 1-40 1 Kibeiro, fosC Carlos, 2 11-2 X 3 Kicci, Matteo, 67 Richardson, Miles, 17 Rites of passage. See Initiation rites and rituals Ri&s ofhssage, The (Van Gennep), 86

Rittuulizrd XIouuzosexuulit~~ in Melauzesa'u (Merdt), 133,136 Kitrxais. See Ceremorxies and rituals; Xilitiation rites and rituals tZilzla2-f ofM~~nhood (Herdt), 133 "Robbing the lonely &ostsm ritual (T";tiwan), 276-280 ltubertson, Pat, 399(n1) Kokach, Eidel, 20%208,209(xzn 1,3) Kokach, Shalom, 20 1-202

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Kossi, Ernest L,, 2 18 K t ~ s s i aBrtl1odox ~~ Church, 44-44 Sacrifices as atonement for wrongdoing (Indonesia), 259-26 1 horxz-again Christian sacrifice, 393-394 Jesus as sacrifice, 393-394 See also Anirnat sacrifice; Offferings Saints, in Oriental fewish traditions, 100-101 Sakalava people. See Madagascar Salamone, Frank A., 11 Salvation, See Conversion, Baptist hndarnentaljst; Rejtrvenationleternal life concept Salvation Arrny, 46 Salxbia people, t 38-147 flute ritual, 140-141,146-147 purification rituals, 145-1 46 semen practices, 140-14 1 Savishinsky, Neil, 327,347-366 Saygin, Way, 293 Schall, Adam, 69,79(n7) Schotem, Gersl-tom,368 Seciusiull of xnenslruating wotxen, 87-88, 91-92 Secret ritual knowledge, 307-3 16,321 (n6) Secrrtarism f Turkey), 295,298-299 Selassie, Haile, 350,353,355,359,362, 364(n25) Self-hypnosis, 159 Semen practices (Melanesia), 134-1 37, 148-142,146 geographical and temporal distribution, 154jn10) b l u f i ma~lhoc>d ritual, 148-11 49 ratic>nalizaticznof, 137-138 sexuaI issues of, 11 49- 152 syrnbolisxn of, 146-147 Sered, Sugan, 82-83, "3-109 Sevi, Sabbafai, 36G369 Sexuality ciyhbttk possessi~nand, 11 38 of fifteenth birthday celebration, 117, 128 as identity state, 134-135,138-140, 150, 153(nl) Initiation ceremonies and, 90 pset3doherrnap11xoditisr~t., 136-1 37

See also Homc>sexuatity;Reproduction, sexual Shama~lism,26-28,38(n 1l), 42-43, 59(n2), 60(n16), 79(n10) ambivalence about, 50-56 attempts to extinguish, 45-46,48-49 in China, 65 heali~lgtechniques, 165 missionarieshiew of, 47-49 missionary prczk?aga:""cSaagainst, 30 OglaXa ptzberty rite and, 88-91 13ost-missiox~ary; 49-50,56-57 Tlingit people and, 44,60(n 12), 60(r18) Tul2i-Grrarani people and, 29 See also Healer-mediums, Spiritist; Heali~~g Shapirtj, Judith, 10,22-37 Sharp, Lesley A,, 163-192 SI-teela,Ma Anand, 372 Shokeid, M., 103 Sierra Leone, 356 Simmel, G,, 3 11 Sin atclaement for (Old Testament), 393-394 Cl-tristian and fuada~xe~ltaIist conversion experiences, 385,393-394 and Toraja (Irtdonesia) concept of wl-ongdoing, 258 See alsrz Atonement fix wrongdoing; Misfortune S~nitb,Edwin, 16 Social hierarchies, 152 festivals and, 116, 119-1 2 X fifteenth birthday celebration and (Mexico), 1 24- X 28 in Hopi societ-)5306-3 10 in initiation rituals, 142-144 in Tai%van,288Cn5) See also Power Socioecono~xicchange in Maclag~car,23 1-232,239-242 in Tai-cvan, 277-280 South Africa, 355-356 Spiritism, 222(n2). See ulso Healermediums, Syiritist Spirit xnoney, 275 Spirits and ghosts Rexible i~ttexpretationsof (Taiwan), 27 1-290

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ghost rnarriage (Taiwan), 275 i~ldistinctdifference from gods, 274 in Indonesia, 257 jinvz (Mahgasar), 172 symbolism of (Taiwan), 272-283 tr0mhl-l(Madagascar), 167-169 zur f Sudan), 233-237 See also bssession; Supernatural beings and powers Staden, Hans, 37(n4) Stams, lxicardo, 219 Stipe, Clarrde, 9, 11-2 1 St. Lucia (island), 350,362(n8) Strellttr;Kate, 37 1 St. Vi~lccnt(island), 350 Sudan, 227-247 case sttrdy of zar spirits, 232-233 history of zrzr spirits, 229-232 zur coffee parties, 237-239,245(n 17) Suicide, 2T4,28 1-282 Sukuvur~gsinom,306---308,311-3 12, 317-3 11 8,320(n2) Supernatural beings and powers, 87,91 debate over use of term ""spernaturaf:" 249 statlis in Taiwan, 273-275 See also Ancestors; God; 130ssessior?t; Spirits and gl~asts Swaggel?, Jimmy, 399(n l ) Symbolism of Anukilt., 91 of buffalo, 89-90 cosmotogicaI,9 1-92, E(n22) exorcism practices and, 191 of fifieenth birthday celebration, 121-1123 in i~litiationrituals, 11 41 misapplication of term to Hopi rituals, 305 in purification rituals, 145-146 In Sarnbia flute ritual, 14&141, 146-147 of sext~ality,134-1 35 of sexual rituals, 11 50-152 of substances, 146-147 of Taiwax~eseghosts, 272-283 Taboos. See Menstruation Taiping Rebelliorz, 72-73

Taiwan, 74-76,79(n10), 271-290 failure of state to manipulate popular religion, 283-288 flexible interpretations of ghosts, 271-290 indistinct line between iegitimate and illegitimate power, 274 under Iapanese i-~~le, 272,276,279,285 Nationalist state, 272,280,285-287 political ecoar>sxyof, 277-280 traditiorsal stare, 272 tiniwrsat Salvation (Pudu) ritual, 275-283 Taoism, 65-66,783 Tartssig, M. T., 188-189 Tea prt~dttction,277-278 Tebay, hultts, 330-33 1,345(113) Thevet, AndrC, 24,37(n4) Titiev, M,, 308,3 10 Tli~rgitpeople, 10,42-62 ambivalence about shamanis~n,50-56 blending of oici and new retigions, 56-57> 60(n15) early Christian missionaries and, 44-47 modern religious practice, 591n5) oral traditiarzs, 6O(n 17),50-56,58 shamanism and, 44,49-59,60(n 12), 60(nB) To mirzuu, 259-260 Tc~rajavillagers, 253-270 Tc~sh,Peter, 355,357,364Cn22) Towns, Efmer, 400(n4) ""Traditional" pyepl?ies,questionable use of term, 325 Trances. See Altered states of corzsciolxsness Transcufttxration,defined, 349 Trenier, Sue, 337-338 Trinidad, 350-351 Zi.omr"tuit-ossession(Madagascar), 163-192,244(ni1 5,6) characteristics of possession, 170(table) efficacy of treatment, 186- 191 medicallpsycrhiiltricview of, 165-166, 182-186 Protesta~ltexcorism of, 176- 11 82 Ttlnqbay, Ttire, 293 Ttlg?i-Guarat~i people, 26,35-36,37(nl) ethnology of, 37(n l ) lar.td without evil concept, 28-3 1, 33-36,38(n13)

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missionary tactics and, 26-28 Tup2 (name of God), 23,27,33-34, 38(n10) Ttlg?inamhA peoyle. See Tupi-Guarani 13eople TLIrkey l~eadscarfdispute, 291-302 laicism (secrrlarism) in, 295 sources of ideological conflict, 298-299 Tylos, Edward, 3

Umiya (Sudanese heater), 228 United States fundamentalist Christianity in, 300, 381-403. policy in China, 71 Kastafarianism in, 351-352 See also Native Arpleriealls Universal Salvation (Ptsdu) ritual (Taiwan), 271-2901 275-283 Vailadolid, Spain, 78(n6) Van Gennep, Ar~lold,86,93(table), 117 "Jeniaininov,Ivan, 44-45 Violersce in initiation rituals, t 42-143 and Itastahrianism, 35I and Taiwanese glsosts, 275-280 Wrainggai,Thornas, 330,339-343 Wraflis,firn, 399(nl) Wraflis, Roger, 349,373-376 Wber, Max, 373,378 Wightrnan, Jr-tdith,372 Weller, Flohert P,, 2Slf,2T 1-290 Whitelsead, Harriet K., 154(n12) Wrhiteley,Peter M,, 250,303-323 Writchcrafi difficulty of understandir~gdiscourse without particiyatir~g,386,40O(n8) in Hoyi society, 308,3 13-315 Wolf, Arthur I"., 273 Wolf, Margery; 282 Wri,men,9 6 9 8 iil China, 70 as containinating influence, 85-87, 145-146,155(n18)

cultural ideiztity and, 81-83 dauglsters2ctlltiesto family, 11 0 1 family rituals and, 11 03-106 female homosexuality, t 531n5) female suicides, 282 fifieenth birthday cetehration (Mexico), 114129 headscarf dispute (Turkey), 29 11-302 in Hopi society, 330,320(nlj initiation rituals and, 140-141, 143-144,149 maintaining "purity" of, 130jn11) mascrrlinization of?202-205 retigious education of, 98-99, 1Q9(n5) reproductive stages of, 92-94 seclusion during menstrttation, 87-88, semen rit~zalsand, t 46-147 as spiritual grrardians of familj~,99-101 as spiritual leaders, 209(n2) spirittral possession in, 168- 1TO, 198, 200-208,236 supernatural symbolism and, 91 ZLII"activity and, 230,232,237-242 Worsley, Peter, 327 hnonnami'l people, I3 Yiralyctlzg,65 Young people, See Initiation rites and ritrsals; Kastafarianism Yuan Cheng, 613 Yuropari people, 27-28 Ztlr spirits (Sudan), 227-247

characteristics of, 233-237 formal and informal ccreinoaies, 237-239,245(nn 11 5,117) genda of, 244jn5) increase in participation, 239-242 origins and geography, 229-232 participation by men, 24 1-242 types of, 232-233 Zborcjwski, M., 202 Zimbabwe, 355 Zion Coptic Glsttrcls, 35 1 Zlola, I., 290