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Культура Документы
P ierre Clastres
1989
i987 Urzone, Inc.
ZONE BOOKS
Originally published as
ISBN 0-9422';)9-00-0
ISBN 0-942299-01-,;) (pbk.)
Contents
7
SOCIE T Y A G AI N S T T H E STATE
I . J . \\' . l.apicITc. i:ssai W I" /(' jondcmcl1t (Iu poul'oir 1)(1/11 hiLle, PubliC<lt ion de la t .leul tl' d' A i \-
cn-PrOVCllce, 1968.
8
COPER('�I uS AND 1 HE SAVAGES
'-)
SOC:ETY AGAI�-JST T HE ST!�TE
Itl!" het\\TCn the t\\'O extremes - societies \\ ith a statc and socie
ties without power - therc would appear an infinity of interlllc
diate degrees, conceivably turning each p,1rticular socicty into a
single CI,lSS of thc system. Moreover, a similar l;ltc is in store liH
l'\er\ taxonomic schellle of this kind as knowledge about ,1rch,lic
,()cieties imprmes and their difkrelln's comc increasingly to light.
CO!l';eCjuently, \\he ther \\T .l'oSurne di'icontinuity bet weell 1l()1l
power and power, or continuity, it appear, that no cla'>Sification
10
C O P E R N I C U S A N D T H E S A VA G E S
11
OCiE T Y J\GAINSI THE S E.
The league was not a total society but a political alliance of five
total societies, the five Iroquois tribes. The British typologies of
African societies arc perhaps relevant to the black continent, but
they cannot servc as a rnodel filr Amcrica hecause. let it he repeated,
12
C O P E R N I C US A N D 1H E S A VA G E S
persistent than this view of primitive society, and at the same time
nothing is more mistaken. If it has become possible recently to
speak of groups of paleolithic hunters and gatherers as "the first
affluent societies,"2 how will "neolithic"l agriculturalists be
described? This is not the place to dwell on a question of crucial
importance for ethnology. Let it be remarked mercly that a good
many of those archaic societies "with a subsistence economy," in
South America, lilr example, produced a quantity of surp lus food
often cqui\o!cnt to the amount required for the annual consump
tion of the community: a production capable, therefore, of satis
I)'ing its needs twice over, or capable offeeding a population twice
its size. Obviously that docs not mean that archaic societies arc
not archaic; the aim is simply to puncture the "scientific" conceit
of the concept of the subsistence economy, a concept that reHects
the attitudes and habits of\Vestern observers with regard to primi
tive societies more than the economic reality on which those
cultures are based. In any case, it is not because they had a subsis
tence econom\' that archaic societies "have survived in a state of
extreme underdevelopment up to the present time" (p. 225 ) . In
bct, it strikes me that, using this standard, the illiterate and under
nourished European proletariat of the nineteenth century would
be more aptly descrihed as archaic. In reality, the notion of the
subsistence economy belongs to the ideological purview of the
modern \Vest. and not at all to the conceptual store of a science.
And it is paradoxical to sec ethnology become the victim of such
a crude my stification, something especially dangerous inasmuch
as ethnology has had a part in orienting the strategy of the indus
trialized nations vis-ii-vis the so-called underdeveloped world.
3. Regarding the problem'> rai'led b� c1 definition ut tht' ncolithic, '>l'C I.bt chapter.
C O P E R N I C US A N D THE SA VA G E S
4 . Clast,.",", l'l11phasis.
C OP E RN I C U S A N D THE SA VA G E S
17
S O C IET Y A GA I N S T THE S T A T E
18
C O P ERN I C U S A N D T H E S A VA G E S
19
SO C I E T Y A G A I N ST THE ST A T E
20
C O P E R N I C U S A N D T H E S A V A GES
there i s nothing pol itical since we are dealing with societies without
power: how the n c a n one speak of thc apolitical ? Either the political
is present, eyen in those societies, or the e xpression imme diate
social control i s self-contrad ictory and i n any case tautological . I n
fact, what do we l earn from i t concerning the soc i e t i e s to w h i c h
i t i s applied? And how exacting i s Lowie's e x planation, for instance,
accord i ng to which, i n societies without power, there e x i sts " a n
unotTic i al power of public opinion"? I t was remarked that i f every
thing i s political , then noth i ng i s: but i f somewhere there e xists
something that can b e called apol i tical , this means that e l s ewhere
there i s something political ! Logically speaking, a n apoliti cal society
would no longer have a place within the sphere o f c u l ture , but
\Hmld rightly be placed among animal societies governed by natural
rclations of domination and submi ssion .
Here we have perhaps the main obstacl e f()r classical thought
regardi ng power: i t i s impossible to th i nk the apoli tical w i thout
the p o l i tical , immediate social control without the concept o f
m e d i a t i o n - in a word , socie�r without pOller. I lopefu l l)" i t has been
shown that the epistemological obstac l e that "pol i t i c o l ogy" has
thus far been unab l e to overcome l i es w i th i n the cultura l ethno
centri s m of Western thought, i tself l i nked to an e xotic view o f
non-\Vestern soci e t i e s . I f ethnographers persist i n refl ecting o n
power, starting from the assurance that its true form has been real
ized i n o u r c u l ture, and i f they continue to make this form the
measure ofall the others, even of their telos, then d i sc ursive consis
tency will be abandoned , and the science will be allowed to d egen
erate i nto opinion. Perhaps there is no need for the science o f
man . B u t gi ven the d e termination to estab l i sh i t and to artic u l ate
the ethnological d iscourse, i t is appropriate to shO\\< archaic cultures
a l i t tle respect and to ask oneself about the val i d i ty of such cate
gories as subsistence economy or i m mediate social control . If this
critical task i s not performed , one i s i n danger fi rst o f l etting the
S O C I E T Y AGA I N S T THE STAT E
22
C O P E R N I C I) 5 A f'J 0 THE SA V A G E S
26
Exchange and Power
]0
E X C H A N GE A N D P O WE R
Y or k . Vik i n g , [ '> S 7 .
2 . Claude Le\' j -')lrall S "i , I a l -ie Fo m i/foic l't IO( jale des Indfens ,Va m bikll-oro , Pari ;... , Soc il'tl' de')
3. Ibid.
4 . J u liJ n I lav n e s Steward . e d . , Handbook ojSoLl l h I mcricoll Indians, \VJshingto n , D.C., U.S.
3'
S O C I ET Y A GA I N S T T HE S T ATE
general indifferenc e . But this should not hid e from u s the Indian's
love of the s poken word : a Chiriguano e xplained the accession of
a woman to the oHlce of chief by saying : " H er father taught h er
the art of s p eaking ."
Ethnographic literature thoroughly documents the presence of
these three essential features of chieftainships. However, t h e South
American area (excluding the And ean cultures , which will not b e
discussed here) offers a feature sup plementary t o the thre e empha
sized by Lowie : nearly all these societies , whatever their type of
socio-political unity and d emographic siz e , r ecogniz e polygamy;
and almost all of them recogniz e it as the usually exclusive privi
lege of the chief. The size of the group varies considerably in South
America , d e pending on the geogra phic milieu , the way food is
acquired , the l evel of technology. A band of Guayaki or Siriono
nomads , p eoples w ithout agriculture , rarely numb ers morl' than
30 persons . By contrast , Tu pinamba or Guarani villages , inhab
ite d by sed entary farmers , sometim es contain more than a thou
san d p ersons. The large communal house of the Jivaro shelters
from 80 to 3 00 residents, and the Witoto community includ es
roughly 1 00 persons . Depen ding on the cultural area , therefore ,
the average size o f socio-political units can und ergo substantial
variation . It is all the more striking to find that most of these
cultures , from the wretched Guayaki band to the enormous Tupi
village , recognize and accept the model of plural marriage; more
over, this frequently takes the form of sororate polyg yny.
Since polygynous marriage is practiced by both the Guayaki band
and the Tupi village thirty or forty times its size , it must be assumed
that this institution is not depen dent on a minimum d emographic
d ensity. On e can also conclud e that polygyny does not cause any
overly serious disturbances in a large group . But what about units
as small as the Nambikwara , Guayaki , or Siriono bands? It cannot
fail to d e e pl y affect the life of the group . Yet , the latter is no doubt
E X C H A N G E A N D P OW E R
33
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TAT E
35
S O C I ET Y AG A I N S T T H E S T A TE
37
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TAT E
tial values - the women - for the chiefs benefit, the daily harangues
and the meager economic goods o f which the leader d i s po s e s do
not amount to an equivalent c o m p ensati o n . And this is eve n l e s s
the c a s e as, d e s p i t e h i s l a c k o f authori ty, the c h i e f enj oys an envi
able s o c i al status . T h e u n e q u a l c h arac ter o f t h e " e x c h ange" is
s t ri k i n g : i t wo u l d m ake s e n s e o n l y i n s o c i e t i e s w h e re p o w e r,
equipped with effective authority, would by that very fac t be sharply
d i ffere n t iated fro m the rest o f the group . Now it i s prec i s e l y thi s
authori ty which the I ndian c h i e f lack s : how then i n terpret the
fact that an office rewarded with exorbitant privileges is yet power
l es s i n i t s exerc i s e ?
By analyzing t h e relation s h i p b e t ween power and t h e g ro u p i n
terms of exchange , o n e brings i n to sharper foc u s t h e parad o x o f
t h i s relationsh i p . L e t u s c o n s i de r, therefore , the status o f e a c h o f
these three level s of communicatio n , taken separately, at the center
of the p o l i t i cal sphere . I t i s obvious that a s regard s t h e w o m e n ,
their c i rculation occurs in "one-way" fashion - fro m t h e g ro u p
towards the chief; for t h e latter would b e clearly incapabl e of placing
back i n t o the c i rc u i t , in the d i rection of the gro u p , a n u m b e r o f
women e q u a l to t h a t which h e has received from i t . O f c ourse ,
the c h i e f's wive s w i l l give h i m daughters w h o l ater w i l l b e as m any
potential wives for the young men o f the grou p . B u t i t s h o u l d n o t
be thought that the d aughter's reinsertion i n t o the cyc l e o f matri
monial exchange s s erves to compensate for the fath er's p o lygyny.
I n rea l i ty, i n most S o u th Ameri can soc i e t i e s , the c h i e ftai n s h i p i s
inherited patri lineally. T h u s , mak i ng allowance for i n d i v idual apti
tu des, the chief's son, or, fai l i ng that, the son o f the c h i efs brother,
w i l l be t h e n e w leader o f t h e c o m m u n i ty. A n d a l o ng w i th t h e
respons i b i l i ty, he w i l l garne r the pri v i l ege o f the o ffi c e , n a m e l y
p o lygyny. H e n c e the exerc i s e o f t h i s priv i l ege can c e l s , w i th e a c h
n e w generat i o n , the e ffect of the thing t h a t m i g h t h ave n e u tral
ized, by way of the wom e n , the p o l ygyny o f the prev i o u s genera-
39
S O C I E T Y AG A I N ST T H E S TA T E
Lastly, the status o f l ingu istic signs i s more evident sti l l : i n soci
eties that have been able t o protect their l anguage iro m the d egra
dation v i sited on it by our own , speaking is more than a pri v i l eg e ,
i t i s a d u ty o f t h e chi e f. I t i s to h i m that t h e mas tery o f word s fal l s ,
t o such a n e x tent that som e o n e was abl e to write , o n the subj e c t
o f a N o rth American tri b e : " I t can be said n o t t h a t the c h i e f i s a
man w h o speaks, b u t that he who speaks i s a c h i e f, " a stat e m e n t
eas i l y a p p l i cabl e to the whole South A merican c o n t i n e n t . The
exerci s e of this near-monopoly over language is fu rther reinf()rced
by the fac t that I ndians d o n o t perceive the s i tuati o n as a fru stra
t i o n . The demarc a t i o n i s so c l early estab l i shed that the Tru m a i
l eader's t w o assi stan t s , fo r i nstanc e , al though they b e n e fi t fro m a
certain prestige , cannot speak l i k e the chief: n o t by virtue of an
extern a l prohibi t i o n , but because o f t h e fee l i ng t h a t t h e speak i ng
activity \\ ()u l d be an i nsu I t both to t h e chief a n d t o t h e l anguag e ;
fo r - says an i n formant - anyon e o t h e r t h a n the c h i e f " wo u l d b e
asham e d " to speak as h e d o e s .
I n rej e c t i ng t h e notion o f a n exchange o f t h e w o m e n o f the
group against the goods and messages of the chief, we conseq uently
turn t o examine the movement o f each "sign" accord i ng to i ts
particular c i rcuit and discover that this tri p l e move m e n t mani
fests a common negative dimension which assigns these three types
o f "signs" an identical t�1te: they no longer appear as exchange values,
reci proci ty ceases to regulate th e i r c i rc u l ati on , and each o r t h e m
fal l s , therefore, outside the prov ince o f c o m m u n i cati o n . H e n c e a
new relati o n s h i p be tween the d o main o f power and the essence
o f the group now c o m es to l ight : power enj oys a priv i l eged rel a
tionship toward those elements whose reciprocal m ovement founds
the very structure o f society. But this relationshi p , by d enying these
e l e m e n t s an e x c h ange val u e at the group l evel , i n s ti t u t e s t h e
p o l i tical sphere n o t only as ex ternal to the structure o f the gro u p ,
b u t fu rther still , as n egati ng that structure : power i s con trary t o
S O C I E T Y A GA I N S T T H E STAT E
the group, and the rej ection of reci procity, as the ontological d i men
s i o n o f s o c i ety, is the rej ec t i o n of s o c i e t y i t s e l f.
Such a c o n c l u s i o n , j o i ned to the pre m i s e o f the powerl essness
o f the c h i e f in I n di a n soci e t i e s , m ay seem parad o x i c a l ; it i s thi s
conclus i o n , h owever, t h a t h o l d s t h e k e y to t h e i n i tial proble m :
t h e chieftain s h i p 's lack of authori ty. I n fact, i n order for o n e aspect
of the s o c i al s truct u re to b e abl e to exert any i n t1 u e n c e on th i s
structure , i t i s n e c e ssary, at t h e very least, that t h e relationship
between t h e part i c u l a r system and t h e total s y s t e m b e o t h e r than
enti rely nega t i v e . T h e effective e l aboration o f the p o l i tical func
tion i s p o s s i b l e o n l y i f i t i s i n s o m e w a y i nherent i n the gro u p .
N o w i n I n d i an s o c i e t i e s t h i s fun c t i o n i s e x c l u d e d fro m the group ,
and i s even e x c l u s i ve of the l atter: hence i t i s in the n egative rel a
t i o n m a i n t a i n e d w i t h regard to the grou p that the i m potence o f
t h e pol i tical function i s roo ted . T h e ej ection of t h e poli tical func
tion fro m s o c i e ty i s the very means of red u c i ng i t to i m potence.
To thus conceive the rel at i o n s h i p between power a n d soc i e t y
among the I n d i an p e o p l e s o f South America m ay see m to i m p l y a
teleological m etaphysi c s , accord i ng to which some mysterious w i l l
wou l d e m p l oy d ev i o u s m e a n s so as to deprive pol i t i ca l power 01
prec i s e l y i t s qual i ty as power. I t i s not at all a matter o f fi nal cause s ,
however. T h e p h e n o m e n a a n a l yzed h e re b e l o ng t o t h e fi e l d o f
u nc o n sc i o u s ac t i v i t y by m e a n s o f w h i c h the g ro u p fas h i o n s i t s
mod e l s : a n d i t i s t h e s t ru c t u ra l m o d e l o f the re l a t i o n o f t h e soc i a l
gro u p to pol i t i ca l p o w e r t h a t we a r e try i ng to uncover. T h i s mod e l
a l l o w s u s to i n tegrate d a t a i n i ti a l l y perc e i ved as contrad i c tory. At
th i s stage o f analy s i s , we can see that the i mpotence of power i s t i e d
d i re c t l y to i ts " m a rg i n a l " p o s i t i o n i n re l a t i o n to the t o t a l syste m ;
a n d th i s pos i t i o n i ts e l f res u l ts fro m t h e rupture that power i nj ects
i n to the d ec i s i ve cyc l e o f the e x change o f wom e n , good s , and wor d s .
B u t t o d e tect i n t h i s rupture t h e cause of t h e powerl e s s n e s s of t h e
po l i t i c a l fu n c t i o n s t i l l t h rows n o l ig h t o n i ts profo u n d reason for
E X C H A N G E A N D P OW E R
43
S O C IETY A G A I N S T THE S T A TE
44
E X C H ANG E AND P O W E R
c reate a means for neu tralizing the virulence o f p o l i tical authori ty.
They c h o se themselves to be the found ers of that authori ty, b u t i n
s u c h a manner a s to l e t power appear o n l y a s a negati v i ty t h a t i s
immediately subdued: they established it in keeping with its essence
( th e negation of c u l t u re ) , but preci sely in order to stri p it of any
real migh t . Thus, the advent of power, such as it i s , presents i t s e l f
t o these s o c i e t i e s as t h e very means fo r n u l l i fying that power. T h e
same o pe ration that i nstitutes the poli tical sph ere forbi d s i t t h e
e x erci s e o f i t s j uri s d i c t i o n : i t i s i n t h i s m a n n e r that cul ture uses
against p ower the very ruse o f nature . That i s why t h e one called
c h i e f i s the man i n whom the exchange o f wom e n , word s , and
goods shatters.
As the purveyor of weal th and messages, the chief conveys nothing
b u t h i s dependence on the grou p , and the obl igation to e x h i b i t at
every m o m ent the i nnocence o f his o ffice . Ye t , i t might seem that
in the c o n fid ence the grou p places i n i ts c h i e f, a free d o m experi
enced by the group i n its deal i ngs with power, th ere i s the surrep
t i t i ous h i n t of con trol by the chief over the community - a control
that runs deeper fo r being less apparent. For in certain c i rc u m
s tanc e s , in part i cular d u ri ng a peri od o f scarci ty, the group places
i ts e l f e n t i rely i n the hands of the c h i e f; w h e n fam i n e threatens,
the communities of the Orinoco install themselves in the c h i efs
h o u s e , d e c i d i ng to l i ve at h i s e x p ense until better d ays return .
Similarly, the Nambik wara ban d , after a long spell of foo d shortage ,
l ooks to the c h i e f and not to itself to i mprove t h e s i tuati o n . I t
seems i n t h i s case t h a t t h e group, unahle to d o w i t h o u t the c h i e f,
wholly depends on h i m . B u t t h i s subordinati on i s m erely apparent:
it actuall y masks a k i n d o f blackmail the group uses agai nst the
c h i ef. For if the latter does n o t d o what is expected o f h i m , h i s
v i l l age or hand w i l l simply abandon him and throw i n with a l eader
m ore f.l i t h ful in h i s duti e s . I t is o n l y on condition of this real depen
d ence that the c h i e f can keep his statu s .
S OC I E T Y AG A I N ST T H E STAT E
47
I ndependence and Exogamy 1
The strongly marked contrast between the cul tures o f the And ean
h igh p l ateaus and the c u l t u res of the Tro p i cal Fore s t , etched i n
t h e narratives and reports o f s i x teenth- and seventeenth-century
m i ssionaries, soldiers, and explorers, was subsequently exaggerate d :
t h e re graduall y formed the p o p u l ar i magery of a pre-C o l u m b i an
A m e r i c a d e livered over to sa vagery , except for the Andean reg i o n
where the I ncas h a d assured the tri umph of civilization .
These s i m p l i s t i c notions - naive in appearan ce o n l y, for they
were in c o m p l e t e accord with the obj ectives o f w h i t e c o l o n iza-
I . ()nc onl is�ion w i l l l i kcly calise some surprise: t h e absence o f the n u m e rous tribes belong
t h e s e pages the classiflcation o f the H S A I ( I landbook o[South , 1 m erican Indjans), " h i c h assigns
to these peoples the status o f Marg i n a l s , when i n tac t t h e i r ecology, o f which agric u l tu r e is
49
S O C I E T Y A GA I N ST T H E S TAT E
1) 0
I N D E P E N D E N C E A N D E X O G A M Y
Aborig i n e s . H ux l ey tvlemorial Lecture, 1 948, " Journal of the Royal A nthropologiwl lnstit ute of
Great Britain and Ireland, vol . L XXVI I I , parts 1 and 2 ( 1 948), pp. 1 1 - 2 4 .
51
SOCI E T Y C; A I �;j ST T H E SrA T E
body of' trib e s , many of w h i c h belong to the three maj o r lingu istic
stock s : Tup i , Car i b , Arawak . A l l these peoples can be grouped i n a
c o m m o n c a t egory: a l t h o ugh subj ect to l oc a l vari a t i o n s , their
ecology cont<lrms to the same model . The Forest societies' mode of
subsistence i s basically agricultural , involving an agriculture limited
to gardening to be sure, but one whose product in al most evcry case
is at least as s u bstantial as that of hunting, fishing , and gathering.
hnhermore , t he plants c u l tivated arc fai rly constantly the same,
\\' ith s i m i l a r p roduction techniques and work routi n e s . I Ience, i n
this i n stance , the ecology fu rn i shes a H�ry val uable basis for classi
fi cation, and o n e i s confronted w i t h a grou p of societ i e s offering,
from this standpoint, a real homogeneit y. I t is not surprising, there
f(lre , to find that the uniformity at the k\TI o f th e "infrastructure"
is ascribed to the level of the "superstructures" as well - the level ,
that is, o i the types o f social and political organizati o n . T h u s , the
most \videspread sociological model in the area under consideration
seems to b e , i l' \\T are to b e l i eve t h e general d ocumentati o n , that
of the "extended bmily." This i s the unit m oreover, that consti tutes
the p o l i t i c a l l y auto n o m o u s c o m m u n i t y, s h e l t ered by the great
communal house or mo!oca; it holds true f(lr the tribes inhabiting the
G u i anas - t ho s e o f t h e j u rua-Puru s regi o n , t h e \Vitoto , t h e Peb a ,
t h e j i varo , the n u me ro u s Tu pi tribes, and 'i O o n . The d e m ographic
sill' o l' t hes e h o u se h o l d s m ay vary li"o ll] 40-odd t o sneral h u n d red
persons, although the o p t i m al mean appears to be situated betwecll
one and two h u n d red person s per [)JO!OUl. There arc notable e x cep
tioll'i to the ru le : t h e large A piaca, Guaran i , a n d Tu pinamba v i l l age'i,
w h i c h brought together u p to a thousand i n d i vidual s .
B u t t h i s ra ises a twof()ld series o f pro b klll s . Thc fi rst d i ffi c u l t \
has to d o w i t h t h e {w ( u rc o f the 'ioc io-po l i t ical u n i ,'i o f the Trop
ical Fore s t . T h c i r ,oc i o l ogical charac t e ri/atioll as c o n l lll u n i t i n
cons t i t ut ed b y all c x t e ll d ed bmi l v does not tal l y \\ itll t h eir Ill e an
- - -
53
S O C I E T Y A GA I N ST T H E S TA T E
1) 4
I N D E P E N D E N C E A N D E X O G A M Y
57
S O C I ET Y A GA I N S T T H E S T A TE
�8
I N D E P E N D E N C E A N D E X O GA M Y
59
S O C I E T Y A G A I N S T T H E S TAT E
1 5 . Set' R . M u r phy a n d Il. Qua i n . I h e ]ru n",i Indians ,,! Cen tral llrm'/, Nt·" York , J .-J . ;\ugll s t i n ,
! ') 5 5 .
60
I N D E P E N D E N C E A N D E X O G A M Y
soc ieties, are perfectly capable of hand ling the poss i b i l i ty o f d i ffer
ence within identi ty, of otherness i n homogene i t y ; a n d i n their
rej ection of the mechanistic can be read the sign of their creativi ty.
Such , then, appears to be the shape - perhaps more fai thhd to
the reali ty - of these Indian societies strung along the entire immen
sity of the Amazon bas i n : they are exogamic demes made up o f a
few extended fam ilies j oined by matri l ineal or patri l ineal descent.
And although they exist and function as genui n e uni ts , they none
theless allow the i r elements a certain "play." But ethnographic
tradi ti o n has placed h eavy emphasis on the self-suffi c i e ncy, the
poli tical i ndependence of these commun i t i e s , on the separati s m
of I nd i an cultures . Had we accepted i t we would be d ea l i ng w i th
small societies liv i ng as though in a cl osed vessel , relat i vely hostile
to one another, and cstablishing their mutual relations i n the frame
work of a very cl c vcloped modcl of war. This v i ew o f their " foreign
relati ons , " i f i t can b e put that \\ ay, i s closely bound u p w i th the
image o f their nature fi rst proposed. And as an examination o f the
l atter l e d us to conclusions that were appreciably d i fferent, an
anal ysis of their "being-together" i s cal led fo r: that i s what we
w i l l turn to now.
One fact must be acknowledged immediate l y : t h e great m aj ority
o f these peoples prac t i ce local exogamy.
I t i s d i fficult , no doubt, to establ ish absolutely, that is, on the
bas i s of proven facts, the generality o f this i nstitut i o n . For while
t h e t e c h n o l og y a n d even t h e m y t h o l og y of n u m e rous South
A m erican tribes arc often \Yell known to us , unfortu nately, the
same thing cannot be said about their sociology. And yet , h O\\·ever
sketchy and sometimes contradi c tory the usabl e i n format i o n may
b e as to the ncar-uni versal ity of local exogamy, certain data make
possible at least extreme probab i l i t y, i f not absolute certa i n t y.
Generall y speaking , the number of peoples about whom we possess
valid i n f()rmation i s very small compared to the total number of
61
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TAT E
62
I N D E P E N D E N C E A N D E X O G A M Y
66
I N D E P E N D E N C E A N D E X O G A M Y
o f t h e i nternal o rg a n i za t i o n o f t h e d e m e , m a n i fe s t a d i s t i n c t
tendency to emphasize one of the two kinship l i n e s and ensure its
conti n u i t y ; t h e d e m e moves i n t h e d i rection o f l i n eage , a nd the
motor, so to speak , o f this dynamics i s the contrad i c t i o n between
a bilateral system o f descent and a unilocal res i d e n c e , b etween
b ilatcral l egality and the un i l i neal reality.
We know that unilocal i ty of residence does n o t necessari l y l ead
to u n i l i neal i ty of d e scent, even i f i t is a necessary condition for
the latter, as Murdock has show n , d i ffering with Low i e o n this
point. One can speak of true l i neages only i f affi l i at i o n is i n d e pen
dent o f residence . The patrilocal demes of the Tropical Forest would
be l i neages i f the women continued to b e a part o f their gro u p of
origin , even after their departure due to marriage. But as it happens,
the d i s tance between the great house s , w h i c h assures that the
woman leaves v irtually fiJ r good , p revents this tendency to o rga
nize i n to l i neages fi-om developing further, because for a woman
marriage is tantamount to d i sappearing. Hence it is possible to
say that i n all the sectors o f the Tropical Forest i n which, by v irtue
of the w i d e separati o n o f t h e maloca, the polyde m i c structures are
fluid , the tendency to l i neages cannot materiali z e .
T h e same i s n o t true w here this type of s t r u c t u r e is m o re
c lear-cut, more pronounc e d , m o r e crystal lized : the b i g Guarani
and Tupinamba v i l l ages. In them , spatial contigui t y e l i m i nates the
movem e n t o f pers o n s : all the young man does during the years of
"service" owed to his father-in-law, or the young woman when
she marri e s , i s to change maloea . Hence every i n d i v i dual rem a i n s
under the conti nual gaze o f h i s or her fami l y a n d i n d a i l y c o n tact
w i th their d escent group o f origin . Among these peoples, there
li)]" e , n o t h i ng stan d s i n the way of the convers i o n o f demes i n t o
l i neages , especially in view of the other t()rces that come to support
thi s trend . For i f the Tupi carried to completion models that are
merel y sketched o u t by the other Forest peopl e s , that i s , e ffe c t i ng
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TAT E
1 9 . Jean <it.' Li TY, journal de hon/ . . en 10 lerre de Rrcsil, I S 5 7 , Paris, �\I it i o n s de Pari'i, 1 9 C; 1 .
2 0 , I i J n s Stad c n . Writable h isloirc e t description d 'un pCly.\' . . \itu(: dans Ie Nouveau .#ondc nommt.i
71
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E STAT E
2 1 . C l a u d e I l' v i -St rall s s . " G u erre c t U Hl1 ID l'I"C<.' c h e /. k s i nd i e n s d l' I ' A m i' r i q u l' <lu Sud,"
RCtldi.H"dnCC, vo l . I , p a r t s I a n d 2.
') 2 . :\ . Mi,tra u x , f a Cil'ili.\(/Iion materid/e des trihu., Illpl-C;uomni, Paris, P. GClI t h ni.'r, IlJ 28, p. 277.
73
S O C I E T Y A GA I N ST T H E STAT E
74
I N D E P E N D E N C E A N D E X O G A M Y
2 5 . Claude I (" " i- S t rall\ ... . lri\ (C\ lrop/(fi}('\' John I{ w,\(' 1 1 , tran..., . , N t' \\' York , Criterion Boo k ,> ,
1%1, C h ap. X X X I .
2 n . See 1/.1 I I, \O J . I I I .
S O C I E. T Y A G A I i'.. S T T H E STAT E
27. Claude I (-\,i-Strau:-.:-., '\llUC1UIc/1 \ nlhrop% H} ' J\lo ll i q ul' I ayto n , tran� . , Nc\\' York, Ra:-.i(
77
Elements of
79
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TAT E
1 . For b e t s r e L l t i n g tu the S i '( t l·c n t h . scvc n t lT n t h , a n d c i g h t l'C n t h u' n t u r i l' <" , m y refer
80
E L E M E N T S O F A M E R I N D I A N D E M O G R A P H Y
81
S O C I E T Y A G A I N S T T H E S TAT E
82
E L E M E N T S O F A M E R I N D I A N O E M O G R A P H Y
2. A . R O 'i l' n h l a t t . 1 <1 Po b/ado n l / ! (iI'.'I l' 1 l 0 r cI llIf.' s t i/o j e C II ,'l m criul , Btu.' n o s A i re s , 1 9 S 4 ,
vol. I , p. 103.
\. I hid., p. 103.
SOC I E T Y A G A I NS T T H E ST A T E
86
E L E M E N T S O F A M ERI N D I A N D E M O GRA P H Y
88
E L E M E N TS O F A M E R I N D I A N D E M O G R A P H Y
The second i s tha t , when need be, we can l egitimately make use
o f the Tupi figures for d i scussing the Guarani reali ty, provided we
demonstrate - and that i s what we shall attempt to do - the valid
ity of our method.
Hence, let i t be the Guarani population whose sill' we want to
calculate. It is first o f all a matter o f determining the area of the
territory occupied by these I ndians. Unlike the Tupi habitat, which
is impossible to measure, the task here is relatively easy, even if i t
does not permit us t o o btai n the precise results o f a cadastral sur
vey. The Guarani h o m eland was roughly bounded to the West by
the Paraguay River, that is, by that part of its course which is situ
ated between the 2 2nd parallel upstream and the 2 8 th downstream.
The southern frontier was located a l i ttle to the south of the j u nc
tion o f the Paraguay and the Parana. The shores of the Atlantic
consti tuted the eastern boundary, approxi mately £i'om the Brazil
ian port o f Paranagua t o the north ( the 2 6th paral lel ) to the pre
sent U ruguay border, formerly the hom eland of the Charrua Indi
ans ( the 3 3 rd parallel ) . One thus has two parallel l i nes ( the course
o f the Paraguay and the seacoas t ) so that all we have to do i s link
their ends to di scover the northern and sou thern boundaries o f
t h e Guarani terri tory. These boundaries correspond almost e xact l y
to t h e fu rthest e x pansion of t h e G uarani . This quadri lateral o f
around 5 00 , 000 square kilom eters was n o t whol l y occupied by
the Guara n i , since other tribes l i ved in the reg i o n , mai nly the
Cai ngang. We can esti mate the area of G uarani terri tory at 3 5 0,000
sq uare kilo meters .
Assuming this t o b e tru e , a n d k n o w i ng the m e a n densi ty o f the
l ocal groups, can we d eterm i ne the total popu l ati o n ? \lVe wou l d
have to estab l i sh t h e n u m ber o f local groups w i th i n t h e bou n d
aries o f t h e te rri tory. Obviously, at t h i s l evel our calculations are
concerned with averages, " round" figures, and the results w i l l be
hypotheti cal , which d oes not mean they are arbitrary.
91
S O C I E T Y A G A I N S T T H E STAT E
that the same held true a m ong the G u arani . I t i s now possible to
fin d the number - a l b e i t hypothetical and stati stical - o f Guarani
local groups. I t wou l d amount to 350,000 divided by 150, or about
2 , 340 . Let u s agree on 600 p e rsons a s a cred i b l e average n u m b e r
per u n i t . We wou l d then have : 2 , 340 x 600 = 1 ,404 , 000 inhabi
tant s . Hence , nearly a m i l l io n a n d a h a l f Guarani I n dians before
the arri val of the w h i t e s . That i m p l i e s a density of lou r inhabi
tants per squ are k i l o meter. ( On the I sland of l\laranhao it \\ as 1 0
inhabitants per square k i l o m e te r. )
T h i s figure \v i l l a p p ear e n o rm o u s , i m probab l e , inad m i ssabl e
t o s o m e , i f n o t to m any. A n d y e t , n o t o n l y i s there no reaso n
( except ideological ) to rej e c t i t , b u t I think o u r esti mate i s verv
modest. This i s t h e p o i n t at which to c i te the studies o f what
i s called the Berkeley Schoo l , a gro u p o f demographic hi storians
whose work overturns fro m top to bottom the classic certai nties
regard ing America and its population. Pierre Cha u n u l d eserves
the c red it fiJr having called to the attention o f researchers, as earl y
as 1960 , the extre m e i m p o rtance o l the d i scoveries m a d e b y t h e
B e r k e l e y Schoo \ . 1 rdl'r to t \\ O texts i n w h i c h h e p re s e n t s a clear
and closely reaso n e d state m e n t o f the m ethod a n d res u l t s o f the
A m er i c a n i nv e s t i g a t o rs .
1 w i l l s i m p l y say that t h e i r d e m ogra p h i c stud i e s , c o n d u c ted w i t h
i rr e p roac h a b l e s t ri c t n e s s , l ead u s t o ad m i t p o p u l a t i o n fig u re s a n d
d e n s i ty rates heretofi)re u n s u s p e c t e d and bord e r i ng on the i nc red i
h k . T h u s , till' the j\'k x i c a n reg i o n o f A n a h uac ( 5 14,000 sCI UatT k i l o
m e t e rs ) , Borah a n d C o o k d e c i d e u po n a p o p u l a t i o n o f 2 5 m i l l ion
i n 1519, that i s , i n C h a u n u 's \\'ord s , "a d e n s i ty, c o m parabl e to France
in 17i)9, o f 50 i n h a b i t a n t s p er s q u a re k i l o m et er." T h i s m ea n s t h a t
ky, " [(n lie h/\/{ )ri'lu(', \'0 1 . IV ( I Q6() ), PI" � �9-6H. :\11<1: " I .1 Popubt i oll de 1 ';\ n H'Ti ( I 'H' i ll d i l' l lIH'.
0J()U\ clll'\ I"l'l lll' rcill''\,'' He\ L I t' !J l\lnrh/Ill', YO ! . I ( I q(, � ). p. ! IX.
93
S O C I E T Y AG A I N S T T H E STAT E
6. I n fo r m a t i o n p e rso n a l l y c o m m u n i cated by I. i z o t .
94
E L E M E N TS O F A M E R IN D I AN D E M O G R A P H Y
cites fi g ures for the I nca Empire that are scarcely less overwhelm
ing: 10 million I ndians i n 1 5 3 0 , 1 million in 1 600. For vari ous rea
son s , the drop in population was less d rastic than in Mexico, since
the population was reduced hy only ( i f i t can be so stated ) nine
tenth s , vvhereas in Mexico i t was reduced by 96/ 1 00ths. In both
the Andes and Mex ico, one w i tnesses a s l ow demographi c recov
ery of the I n d i ans, b egi nning w i th the end of the seventeenth cen
tury. This was not the case with the Guarani , since between 1 6 9 0
a n d 1 7 3 0 the population w e n t from 200 ,000 t o 1 30 ,000.
It can b e estimated that in this period , the free Guaran i , that is,
those havi ng escaped both the encomienda and the M i ssions, were
no more than 20,000. Added to the 1 3 0 , 000 Guarani of the M i s
sions, one obta i n s a total , then , of 1 5 0 ,000 i n about 1 7 3 0 . More
over, I am of the opi n i on that a relati vely low rate of depopulation ,
compared with the J\!1ex ican example, should be accepted, of nine
tenths in two centuri es ( 1 5 3 0 - 1 7 3 0 ) . Conseq uently, the 1 5 0,000
I nd i ans were ten ti mes more n u m erou s t wo centuries before , i . e . ,
there \\TTe 1 , 5 00 ,000. I c o n s i d e r the rate o f d ecl i ne t o b e moder
ate , even though i t i s catastrophic . There appears i n this a co m
parative l y " p rotective " fu nction o f the M i ss i ons, i n v i ew of t h e
fact the cncomicnda I n d i ans d i sappeared at a faster rate: 2 4 ,000 at
t h e e n d o f t h e fi fteenth century, 2 , 000 i n 1 7 3 0 .
Obta i n e d i n th i s way, the fig u re o f 1 , 5 00 , 000 G uarani i n 1 5 3 9 i s
n o l o nger hypotheti cal a s i n t h e prev i o Li s mode o f calculation . I
even think of i t as a m i n i m u m . At a l l events, the convergence o f
the resu l t s obtained b y t h e regre ss i o n m ethod and b y t h e method
o f m e,lll d e n s i ties strength e n s our conviction that we arc not m is
taken. \;\11.' arc a long way ii'om the 2 5 0 ,000 C; uarani i n 1 5 70, accord
i ng to I{ose n b l a t t , w h o thus ad m i ts a rate of d epopu lation of o n l y
2 0 perc e n t ( 2 S () , OOO I n d i a n s i n 1 5 7 0 , 2 0 0 , 00 0 i n 1 6 5 0 ) f<> r a
period ol al most a centu ry. T h i s rate i s arbi trari l y postu lated and
i n c o m p l ete con trad i c t i o n w i th the rates estab l i shed elsewhere
97
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E STAT E
est ideas on the Guarani , a forest people , moves - from the stand
point of its results - i n the same d i rection as the works j ust alluded
to: for the peoples of the Forest, too, it is necessary to adopt the higher
population rati o . Hence , at this point I wish to affirm my agree
ment with P. Chau n u :
99
The Bow and the Basket
101
S O C I E T Y AG A I N ST T H E S TA T E
10 2
T H E B OW A N D T H E BA S K E T
10 3
S O C I E T Y AG A I N ST T H E S TAT E
do the basketry and pottery and make the strings for the bow s ;
they d o the cooking, take care o f the c h i l d re n , and so forth. I t
turns o u t , then, that the wome n, far fro m b e i ng i d l e , devote their
enti re t i m e to the execution of all these necessary labors . B u t it
remain s true nonetheless that the c o m p letely m i n o r part played
by the women i n the basic area o f foo d "production" leaves the
men the engrossing and prestigious monopoly o f it. O r, more pre
cisely, the d i fference between the men and the women at the level
of econo m i c l i fe can be understood as the opposition of a group
of prod ucers and a group of consumers.
As will b e seen , Guayaki thought e x p resses c learly the nature
of this opposition which, because it is s i tuated at the very root of
the social l i fe of the tribe, domi nates the economy o f its everyday
e xi stence and gives meaning to a set o f attitudes into w hich the
web of social relations i s woven . The space o f nomad h unters can
not have the same dividing lines as that o f sedentary agric u ltur
ists. The latter is structured into concentric circles, w ith a division
between a cultural space comprised o f the v i l l age and gardens,
and a natural space occupied by the s u rro u n d i ng forest. I n con
trast , the Guayaki space i s continually h o m ogene o u s , reduced to
a pure e xtension in which the d i fference b e t ween nature and cul
ture i s seemingly done away w i t h . B u t i n rea l i ty the opposition
already b ro ught to light on the material plane o f l i fe furnishes the
pri n c i p l e o f a spatial d ichotomy as wel l , one that is no less perti
nent for being more concealed than i s the case i n societies belong
ing to a d i fferent cul tural level . Among the Guayaki there e x ists a
masc u l i n e s pace and a feminine space , d e fi ne d respectively by the
forest where the men do their hunting, and the encampment where
the wom en reign . It i s true that the l ayovers are very temporary:
they rarel y last more than three d ay s . B u t they are the place o f
repose w h e re the foo d prepared by the wo m e n is c o n s umed ,
whereas the forest is the p l ace of movement, the place especia lly
T H E B O W A N D T H E B A S K E T
c o n secrated to the e x c u r s i o n s of m e n b e n t on fi n d i ng g a m e . I t
s h o u l d not b e i n ferred , o f cours e , that the wo men are any l e s s
nomadi c than the m e n . B u t owi ng to t h e type of economy o n whi c h
hangs the e x i stence o f t h e tri b e , t h e true masters of t h e forest are
the men: they i nvest i t i n a real way, compelled as they are to explore
i t s every detai l i n order to systemati c al l y e x p l o i t a l l i t s resourc e s .
F o r the m e n , t h e f()rest i s a dangerous spac e , a space o f ri sks , of
ever renewed adventure, but for the wo men it is, on the contrary,
a space passed through between two stops, a monotonous and t i re
s o m e c ro s s i ng , a s i m pl e n e u tral e x pa n s e . At t h e opposite pol e ,
t h e encam p m e n t o flcrs t h e hunter t h e tranq u i l l i ty of rest and t h e
c h a n c e t o d o h i s ro u t i n e han d i work , vvhereas for t h e wom e n i t i s
t h e place where the i r spec i fi c a c t i v i ti e s a r e carried o u t and where
fam i l y l i fe u n fo l d s under t h e i r pri mary superv i s i on . The fo rest and
the enca m p m ent are thus a l l otted c o n t rary signs depend i ng on
whether i t i s the m en o r t h e women w h o are the reference po i n t .
I t m ight be said that t h e space o f t h e " d a i l y ro utine" i s the fo rest
for the wo m e n , the e n ca m p m e n t for t h e men: fo r the latter, e x i s
t e n c e o n l y b e c o m e s a u t h e n t i c w h e n t h e y g i ve i t concrete rea l i t y
as h u nters , that i s , i n the fore s t ; and for the wom e n , whe n , ceas
i ng to be a m eans o f tran sport , they arc able to l i ve in the encam p
m e n t as w i ve s a n d m o t h e rs .
I f e n c e t h e v a l u e a n d scope o f t h e s o c i o-eco n o m i c oppo s i t i o n
between m e n a n d wo m e n c a n be gauged i n sofar as i t structu res
the t i m e and space of the G u ayak i . N ow, they d o not a l l ow the
actual e x pcri e n c e of th i s pra s is to rem a i n o u ts i d e of thought: they
have a c l ear awaren e s s of i t a n d the d i seq u i l i bri u m o ft h e econom i c
re lat i o n s i s e x pressed i n t h e t h i n k i ng o f these I n d ians a s t h e opp o
sition oj the holV a nd the haske t . Each o f t h e s e two i n s tru m e n ts i s i n
fac t the m ed i u m , the sign , a n d t h e s u m mary o f one o f two "sty l es"
o f e x i st e n c e that a rc a t the s a m e t i m e opposed and care fu l l y kept
s e parate. It i s hard l y n e c e s sary to stress that the bow, the h u n ters'
1 ( 1)
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TAT E
only weapon, is strictly a masculine too l , and that the basket, the
women's consummate obj ect, is used only by them: the men hunt,
the women carry. I n the main , G u ayaki pedagogy i s f()Unded on
this great separation of roles. Scarcely having reached the age of
four or five , the l i ttle boy receives fro m h i s father a little bow that
matches h i s size ; from that moment h e will begi n to p ractice the
art o f shooting the arrow. A few years l ater, he is given a much
larger bow, this time with effective arrows , and the birds he brings
back to his mother are proof that he i s a responsible boy and the
promise that he will be a good h u n te r. W h e n a few more years
have gone by it is time for the initiati o n ; the lower lip of the young
man of about 15 is perforated , he gain s the right to wear the labial
ornament, the beta , and h e i s now looked upon as a true h u n ter, a
ky buchuCte. This signifies that in a short w h i l e he will be able to
take a w i fe and consequently w i l l have to supply the needs of a
new househo l d . His first concern , therefore, i s to make hi mself a
bow ; henceforth a "productive" member of the band , he will hunt
with a weapon shaped by his han d s and nothing b u t d eath or old
age w i l l separate him from his bow. The ,voman's lot is comple
mentary and parallel . The nine- o r ten-year-ol d l i ttle girl receives
from her mother a miniature basket , the making o f which she has
followed w i th rapt attention. Doubtless she carri es nothing insid e ,
b u t the gratuitous posture s h e assumes w h i l e walking, h e r head
lowered and her neck straining in anticipation o f i ts effort to come,
prepares her for a future that is very ncar. For the appearance of
her first menstruation , around the age of 1 2 o r 1 3 , and the ritual
that rat i fies the advent o f womanhood m ake the you ng \\oman
into a dare, a woman soon to be the w i fe o f a hunter. A s the fi rst
task requ i red by her new statu s , and the mark o f her defi ni tive
condition, she then makes her own baske t . And each o f the two ,
the young man and the young woman , master and pri soner, thus
gains entry into adulthood. In the end, when the hunter dies, his
106
T H E B O W A N D T H E B A S K E T
1 07
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E STAT E
1 08
T H E B OW A N D T H E B A S K E T
the animal teeth the hunters gave him he made bracelets that dem
onstrated an artistic taste and aptitude that were much more pro
nounced than in the things made b y the women. And fi nally, he
was of course the owner of a basket. I n hrief, Krembegi thus testi
fi ed to the existence within G u ayaki cuI ture of a refinement ordi
naril y reserved for less rustic societi e s . This incom prehensible
pederast conceived of himself as a woman and had adopted the
attitudes and behavior peculiar to that sex. ror e xample , he would
re fuse the contact o f a bow w i th as much conviction as a hunter
would that of a basket; he considered his rightfu l place to be the
world of women. Krembegi was homosexual because he was panli.
Perhaps h i s bad l uck at hunting also stemmed from his being pre
viously an u nconscious invert. At any rate, the confi dential asides
o f his compan ions let it b e known that his homosexual i ty had
become official , that is, socially recognized , when it became appar
ent that he was incapable of using a bow: to the Guayaki them
selves, he was a ky�vpy-meno ( an us-make l ove ) because he was pane.
Moreover, the Ache maintained a quite difh:rent attitude towards
each o f the two b a s k e t carri ers m e n t i oned above . The fi r s t ,
Chachubu tawachugi , was t h e butt o f general ri d i c u l e , al beit free
o f real meanness. The men made light o f h i m more or less open ly,
the wo men laughed behind h i s back , and the children respected
him much less than the rest of the adu l t s . Krembegi on the con
trary attracted no spec ial attenti o n ; h i s i neptness as a hunter and
h i s homose xual i ty were deemed evident and taken for granted .
Now and then certai n hunters wou l d make h i m their sexual part
ner, d i s playing in these erotic games more bawd iness - it wou ld
seem - than perversion. B u t th i s never resu l ted i n any feeling o f
scorn f()r him on their part. Reci procal ly, these two Guayaki showed
themselves to be u neve n l y adapted to their new status, thus con
form i ng to the i mage the i r own soc i e ty created for them . J u st as
K rembeg i was comfortabl e , placi d , and serene in his rol e of a man
1 09
S O C I E T Y A G A I f\J S -r T H E STAT E
1 10
T H E B OW A N D T H E B ASK E T
III
SOCI E T Y A G A I NST T H E ST A T E
112
T H E B O W A N D T H E B A S K E T
2. As m i g h t bl' l' X PCCll' d , t h e 1 W() PO/)(: lut' n j u st fl' k rrcd t o m a i n t a i ned v(' r y d i lk rl' n t
a t t i t u d e s towards t h t, s i n g i ng : C h J c h ll b u t�lwac h u g i s a n g o n l y d u r i ng c e r t a i n c e re m o n i e s
1 13
S O C I E T Y A G A I N S T T H E STAT E
1 14
T H E B O W AND T H E B A SK E T
I l l)
SO C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E STAT E
1 16
T H E BOW A N D T H E BASKE1
1 17
S O C I E T Y A G A I N S T T H E S TAT E
a n d broke o /Hrorn the groll I' , tak i ng a part o f the G u aya k i a l o n g w i t h h i m . He even threat
1 18
T H E B O W A N O T H E B A S K E T
1 19
S O C I E T Y AG A I N ST T H E STAT E
the daughter. This means that among the G u ayaki a man is a hus
band only by agreeing to be half a husban d , amI the superiority of
the principal husband over the secondary h u sband does nothing
to alter the fact that the first must take the rights o f the second
into account. I t i s not the personal relations between brothers-in
law that are most outstanding , but those between the h usbands of
the same wife and , as we have seen , they are most often negative.
I s it now possible to d iscern a structural analogy between the
relationship of the hunter to his game and that o f the husband to
his wife ? First, we observe that animals and wives occupy an equiva
lent position with regard to the man as hunter and as h usband . I n
one case , the man finds himself radically separated fro m the prod
uct of his hunt, since he must not consume i t ; in the other, he is
never completely a husband, he is no more than a hal f-husband at
best: a third person comes b etween a man and h i s w i fe , namely
the secondary husband. Hence, j ust as a man depends o n the hunt
i ng of others for his own food, similarly i n order to "consume" his
wife , S a husband depends on the other husban d , whose desires he
must respect i f co-existence i s not to be rendered impossibl e . So
the polyandric system doubly restricts the matrimonial rights of
each husband: with reference to the men who neutralize each other,
as i t were, and with reference to the woman who , knowing ful l
well how to profi t from the situation, i s n o t at a l o s s when it comes
to dividing her husbands in order to e xtend her reign over them .
Consequently, from a formal viewpoin t , game i s to the hunter
what the wik is to the husband, inasmuch a s both h ave only a
mediated relationsh i p to the man : for every Guayaki hunter, the
relationship to animal food and to women goes by way of other
men . The very special circumstances of their life f()rce the Guayaki
120
T H E B O W A N D T H E B A S K E T
121
S O C I E T Y A G A I N S T T H E STAT E
12 2
T H E B O W A l\, D f H E R A S K E I
social l i fe . I n the end, what the songs of the G uayaki I n d i ans bring
back to u s is that it i s impossible to w i n on all fronts, that o n e
cannot b u t respect t h e rules of t h e social game , and t h a t t h e fasci
nation o f non-partic ipation entices one to a great i l lusion.
By their nature and their function, these songs illustrate i n exem
plary form the general relationship o f man to l anguage . These dis
tant voi c e s call on u s to ponder that relationshi p ; they invite us t o
follow a path that i s now a l l but obliterated , and the thought of
savages , the product of a sti ll primal language , only motions i n
the d i rection of thought . We have seen , as a matter o f fact, that
beyon d the contentment it obtains for the m , their s i nging fur
nishes the hunters - and without the i r knowing i t - the means to
escape fro m social l i fe by refusing the e x c hange that underl i es i t .
The same m ovement by which t h e s i nger d etaches h i m sel f fro m
the social man he i s induces h i m to know and declare himself as a
concrete individuality utterly closed u p o n i tsel f. T h e s a m e m a n
exists, then , as a pure relation i n the sphere o f the e x change o f
goods and wom en , a nd as a monad , so to sp e a k , i n the s phere o f
l anguage . I t is through the song that he comes to consciousness of
himself as an I and thereby gains the l egi t i m ate us age o f that per
sonal p ronoun. The man exists for h i m s e l f i n and through his par
ticular song: I sing, therefore I am . Now it is q u i t e e v i d e n t t h a t i f
l anguage , i n t h e g u i s e o f t h e song, i s designated to the man as the
true locus of his being, what i s at i ssue i s n o l o nger language as the
archetype of exchange, since that i s precisely t h e thing he i s trying
to be free o f. In other word s , the very model of the world of com
munication is also the means of escap i ng that world . A word spo
ken c a n b e both a message e xchanged and the nega t i o n o f a l l
messages . I t can be pronounced as a s i g n a n d as the opposite o f a
sign. Henc e , the song of the Guayaki refers us to the essential and
d ouble nature of language , which u n fo l d s sometim e s i n i ts open
function o f communication, other t i m e s in its closed function of
124
T H E B O W A N D T H E B A S K E T
1 27
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TA T E
through the forest, women and men, the bow i n fron t , the basket
behin d . The coming of night separates them , each one surrender
ing to h i s d ream . The women sleep and the hun ters sometimes
sing , alone. Pagans and barbarian s , only death saves them from
the res t .
12 8
W ha t M a k e s I nd i an s Lau gh
Resol ved to take the narratives of "savages" seri{)us �v, stn l ctl l rC]1 anal y
s i s has shown fo r s o m e years that they are in fac t q u i t e seri o u s ;
t h a t they present a system of i n q u i ri e s w h i c h raises mythical thi nk
i ng to the l evel of thought as s u c h . They have acq u i red a new pres
tige s i n c e the My thofogi q ues of Levi-Strauss taught us that myths
are not empty tal k . And i t is merely giving them their due to endow
them w i th such grav i t y. Yet , perhaps the renewed interest arou sed
by myths w i l l l ead us th i s t i m e to take them too "seriously, " as it
were , and to assess poorly t h e i r range o f thought. In short, if their
l e s s stringent aspects are l e ft o b s c u re , a kind of my thorn ani a m ay
g a i n c u rrency which ignores a tra i t a great n u m b e r of myths have
i n c o m m o n , one not i n c o m pa t i b l e with th e i r grav i t y : their humor.
Serious both f(x those who relate them ( the I ndians, for instance )
and those who record or read th e m , myths can nevertheless e x hibit
a comic intent. They s o m e t i m e s pe rf()fm the e x pre s s fu n c t i o n of
a m u s i ng their l i s teners , trigge ring their m i rth . I f o ne cares abou t
preserving the i n tegral t r u t h o f myt h s , the real sign i fi cance of the
laughter they provoke m u st not be underest i mated . The fact m u st
be taken into acc o u n t that a myth can sim uftClncous �v speak of seri
o u s things and set those w h o hear i t la ugh ing. D e s p i t e its harsh
ness, the daily J i ll· o f H p ri m i t ives" i s not al ways governed by t o i l
1 29
SOCIE T Y A G AI N S T T HE STATE
and worry. They too indulge in real moments of relaxation , and their
acute sense of the absurd frequently has them making fun of their
own fears. Now it i s not unusual for these cultures to e ntrust their
my ths with the job o f e ntertain i ng the peopl e by de-dramatizing,
as it were , their exi stence.
The two my ths we are about to read b e l o ng in that category .
They were collected l a s t y ear among t h e Chulupi I ndians who live
i n the southern part of the Paraguayan Chac o . These narratives,
going from the mock-heroic to the ribal d , y et not altogether want
ing i n ly ricism, are well known by all members o f the tribe, y oung
and old ; b u t when they really want to laug h , they ask some old
man versed in the tradi tional lore to tell these stories one more
time. The e ffect never fails: the smiles at the b eg i n n i ng become
chortles that are barely stifled , then sham e l e s s peal s of laughter
burst out, and finally it is all howls ofj oy . W h i l e these my ths were
being recorded on tap e , the uproar o f the d ozens of I nd ians who
were l i stening sometimes blotted out the voice o f the narrator,
who was himself constantly o n the verge o f l o sing h i s composure.
We are n o t I ndians, but perhaps by l istening t o their my ths we
will fin d some reason to rejoice w i th them .
First Myth
T H E MAN W H O C O U L D N ' T B E TO L D A N YT H I N G 1
1 . T h i s i s t h e t i t l e g i \"en t o m e by t h e I n d ian').
110
W H AT M A K E S I � DIA N S L A U G H
low voice : 'Come eat some pumpkin ! ' ' ' " Bu t why did you tel l me
to invite the people who are here? I shou ted so they cou ld hear
m e ! " The old woman gru m b l ed : "What an old ignoramus that
one is to invite all these people."
Some time later, he went around u rging his kin to come harvest
his watermelon patch . But once again everyone turned up even
though there were only three stal k s of watermel ons. " We're going
to gather my watermelon cro p ! There are a lot of them ! " he had
proclaimed in a very loud voice . And all the people were there with
their sacks , standing over the three stalks of watermelons. "I real ly
thought there were a l o t of them , " the old man said apol ogetical l y.
" But there are pumpkins and ando 'i2 : take th e m ! " The people fi lled
their sacks with pum pkins and anda 'i instead o f watermelons.
After the harvest, the old man returned home . He met his grand
d aughter there : she was bringing him her sick baby to be treated
by the old man , for h e was a tooic 'eh , a shaman .
" G randfather! Do something then t() r your great-grand son who
has the kvcr. Spit ! "
2 . CULl1riJit" mOSdWlti .
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E STAT E
eating them . When they were all done, the o l d man announced :
"We l l the n ! Now we can continue on our way."
They started off again, still keeping to the rhythm o f the same
chan t : " K uvo 'uitache! kll l'o 'lIitachC! kuvo 'uitachli! she-as s ! she-ass!
. . .
she-ass ! . . . " Suddenly the ani mal 's ear cocked : "Aha! " said the old
man. At that moment he remembered that near that very spot 'was
a beehive that h e h a d bl ocked up so that the bees would come
back and make their honey there . The shamans c leared a path to
allow the she-ass to reach that place. When they got near to the
hive , they posi tioned the she-ass with i ts rump again s t the tree
and , with her tai l , she began extracting the honey. The o l d man
sai d , "Suck the honey! Suck all the honey that's in the tail hairs !
We're going to d raw out some more." The beast repeated the opera
tion and collected a lot more honey. "Go ahead , go ahead ! " the
old man sai d . " Eat all the honey, men w i th the same noses! Do
you want more , or have you had your fil l ?" The other shamans
were no longer h ungry. "Very wel l then, l et's move o n ! "
They set o u t o n c e more , s t i l l chanting: "She-ass! she-as s ! she
ass! . . . " They went o n that vvay for a while . All at once, the old
man cried out: "Aha ! There's something up ahead ! vVhat can that
be? That has to b e a ts 'ich 'e, an evil spiri t ! " They came close to it
and the old man declared: "Oh , that i s a very swift being! We won't
be abl e to catch up with i t ." And yet it was only a torto i s e . " I 'll
stay i n the middle and grab i t , " he sai d , " for I am older and more
e x peri enced than you ." He arranged them i n a c i rcle and, at his
signal , they all kll upon the tortoise: " She-ass! she-ass ! she-as s ! . . . "
But the ani mal d idn't make the slightest movement, for it was a
tortoise. They got the better of i t . The old man exclai m e d , " How
pretty it i s ! What a beautiful pattern ! I t will b e m y domestic ani
mal . He picked it up and they got under way again , still chanting:
"She-as s ! . . . "
But before long, "Aha! " and they stoppe d . "The she-ass w i l l go
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TAT E
3. I n a c t ual fact. t h e s k u n k pro j e c ts a f(nl i ,slll elling liq u id c o n tained i n ,m a nal glan d .
1 34
W H AT M A K E S I N D I A N S L A U G H
1 36
W H AT M A K E S I N D I A N S L A U G H
] can place my foo t o n your thighs . Unh ! Unh ! Aiee !" Awful moans!
1 37
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TA T E
" I don't want any o f your hlasu! I t's too o l d ! Nobody wants to
use old things ! "
Second Myth
T il E A D V E I': T U R F S OF THE JAGUAR
One morning t h e j aguar went out walking and came upon a cha
meleon . As everyon e knows, the chameleon can go through fhe
without being b u rn e d . The j aguar exclaimed , " H ow I wou l d l ike
to play with the fire too!"
" You can play if you want , but you won't be able to bear the
heat and you will burn yoursel f."
"Huh ! Hmph. Why couldn't I bear i t ? I ' m fas t too, you know ! "
" Well then ! Let's go oyer there; the embers are not s o hot."
They went there, but actually the embers burned brighter there
than anywhere else. The chamel eon explained to the j aguar how
he had to go abo u t it and passed through the fi re once to demon
strate: nothing happened to h i m . "Good ! Get out of the way !
I'm going to g o t o o . I f you can do i t , so can I ! " The j aguar j umped
into the fire and immediately burned himself: hsss! l ie managed
to get through , b u t he was a l ready half charred , and he d i e d ,
reduced to ashes.
I n the midst of all this, the ts'a-ts 'j bird arrived and started cry i ng :
"Oh ! My p o o r grandson! I 'l l n ever b e able to g e t u s e d t o singing in
the footsteps of a buck ! " He came down from h i s tree; then, w i th
his wing , he began gathering the j aguar's ashes into a p i l e . Next he
poured water on the ashes and hopped over the p i l e : the j aguar
got back up. "Whew, such heat ! " he exclaimed . " W h y the devil
did I go to sleep o u t i n t h e bright s u n ? " He set out wal k i ng again .
Before l ong, h e heard someone singing : it was the buck, who
was standing in the sweet potato patc h . The sweet potatoes were
really cactuses. "A t'ona 'i! A t 'ona 'i! I am sleepy for n o reason ! " And
139
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TAT E
' 40
W H AT M A K E S I N D I A N S L A U G H
the j aguar's bones , and set him back on his feet. The j aguar started
o ff again .
I t wasn't l o ng until h e came upon the skunk , who was playing
w i th his son, breaking p i eces o f wood . The j aguar came closer to
see what was going on: h e i m mediately pounced o n the skunk's
son, then tried attacking the father. But the latter p i ssed i n his
eyes and the j aguar was l e ft blinded . 6 He walked and could no
l o nger see a thing. B u t ts 'a-ts 'j appeared once more and gave h i s
eyes a g o o d washing; t h a t i s w h y t h e j aguar's v i s i o n i s so good .
Without the ts 'a-ts 'i, the j aguar would no l o nger exist.
The value o f these two myths i s not limited to the i n tensity o f the
laughter they produce. I t is a matter of thoroughly u n derstand i ng
what i t is about these stories that amuses the I ndians; i t also needs
establishing that comic fc)rce i s not the only property these two
myths have in common . O n the contrary, they const i tute a set o n
t h e basis o f less external reasons, reasons that enable o n e to see thei r
being grouped as somcthing other than an arbi trary j u x taposi tion.
The central charact e r o f the first myth i s an old sham a n . F i rs t
w e s e e h i m take everyth i ng l i teral ly, confuse the l e tter w i th the
spiri t ( so that h e can 't be told an,vt h ina ), and , as a resu l t cover him
self w i th ri d i c u l e in the eyes o f thc I nd ians. N e x t w e accompany
h i m in the adventures h i s doctor's "trade" e x poses h i m to. The
zany c x pe d i t i o n h e undertakes w i th the other sham a n s , i n searc h
o f h i s great-grandson's sou l , is spri n k l ed with e p i sodes that reveal
the doctors' lolal i n c o mpetence and the ir p ro d igious capac i ty to
fo rget the purposc of their m i ssion : they hunt, they eat, they copu
late, they seize UPOIl the l east prete x t for fo rgetting they are doc
tors . The i r old c h i e f, a fter havi ng brought about the c u re j ust i n
t i m e , gives liTc rei n to a frantic debauchery : he takes unbir ad van-
h. St"t" note 3.
W H AT M A K E S I N D I A N S L A U G H
But the same powers that make him a doctor, that i s , a man capa
b l e of bringing l i fe , enable him to rule over death as wel l . For that
reason, he is d angero u s , disquieting; o n e is constantl y mi strustful
of him. As the master of l i fe and death, he is immediately made
responsible for every e xtraordi nary occurrence, and very often he
i s killed out of fear. This means, consequently, that the shaman
moves within a space that is too di stant from, too external to that
o f the group for the group to dream , in real l i fe , ofletting its laugh
ter hring it nearer to h i m .
W hat o f t h e j aguar? This feline is a n effective hunter, for it is
powerful and cunning. The prey it attacks most readily (wild hogs ,
animals of the deer family ) are also the game generally preferred
by the Indian s . The result is that the jaguar is seen by them - and
here the myths in which the j aguar appears supply a frequent con
fi rmation of these facts based on observation - more as a com pet
i tor to be reckoned with than as a fearsome enemy. However, it
would be a mi stake to conclude that the j aguar i s not dangerous.
I t i s true no doubt that it rarely attacks men ; but I know o f several
cases of I ndians being attacked and devoured by this beast, so
it is al ways risky business when one encounters the j aguar. More
over, its very qualities as a hunter, together with the d o m i n ion
it e xercises over the fores t , induce the I ndians to accord it the
fu ll measure of respect and to refrain from underestimating it:
they respect the j aguar as an equal and in no instance d o they
make light of i t . 7 In real l i fe , the jaguar and the laugh ter of men
remain disj oined .
Let us conc l u d e , then , the fi rst phase of this sum mary inVl'sti
gation by stating that:
1 44
W H AT M A K E S I N D I A N S L A U G H
( 1 ) The two myths considered present the shaman and the j ag
uar as grotesque beings and obj ects o f l aughter;
( 2 ) As for the relations between men on one hand , shamans
and j aguars on the o ther han d , insofar as these relations are actu
ally experiencecl , the position o f the shamans and j aguars i s j ust
the opposite o f that presented by the myths: they are dangerous
beings , hence worthy of respect, who by that very fact remain
beyond l aughter;
( 3 ) The contradiction between the imaginary world o f the myth
and the real world o f everyday l i fe i s resolved when one recog
nizes in the myths a derisive intent: the Chulupi do in my thical life
wha t is forbidden them in real life. One does not l augh at real shamans
or real j aguars, for they are not i n the least bit amusing. For the
I ndians, it is a matter of challenging, of demystifying in the i r own
eyes the fear and the respect that j aguars and shamans inspire in
them. This cal l i ng i nto question can be carried out in two way s : in
actual fact, in which case the shaman deemed too dangerous , or
the j aguar encountered in the forest, is killed; or symbolically,
throuBh lauBhter, in which case the myth invents a variety of sha
mans and j aguars o f a kind that can be ri cliculecl, stripped as they
are of their real attributes and transformed into village idiots.
Let u s consider the first myth, for example . The central part of
it i s devoted to the d escription of a shamanistic cure . The doc
tor's task i s a serious matter, since , in order to heal the one who is
sick, it is necessary to discover and re-integrate into the patient's
body the soul held c aptive far away. This means that during the
expedition undertaken by his spirit, the shaman has to give ful l
attention to his work ancl cannot allow himself to b e d i s tracted by
anything. Now what happens to him i n the myth? Firs t o f all ,
there are m any shamans, while the case t o be treated i s relatively
mil d : the child i s running a fever. A shaman does not send for his
colleagues except in really hopeless cases. Next, we see the doc-
1 45
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TA T E
1 47
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E STAT E
shaman , one notices that the two myths in question describe, often
in precise detai l , the s tage s of the Great Voyage of the shamans.
The first myth tells o f a cure : the doctor sends his spiri t i n search
of the sick person's spiri t . Hut the fact that the j ourney i s con
ducted in a gro u p already implies that more than a routine excur
sion is at stake , that someth i ng much more solemn i s i nvolved : a
voyage to the Sun. F urthermore , certain obstacles encountered by
the shamans in the myth correspond to the traps with which the
Sun has marked o u t h i s road : the d ifferent barriers of thorns, for
i nstance, and the episode with the skunk. The latter, by blinding the
shaman , is repeating one of the moments of the voyage to the Sun :
thp p;Jss;Jge throll gh t h e d;Jrk n ess w h e re one does not see anyth ing .
I n the end , what is found i n this myth is a burlesque parody of
the voyage to the Sun , a paro d y that takes i ts pretext from a theme
that i s more fam i l iar to the I nd i ans ( the shamanistic cure ) so as to
poke fu n at their sorcerers twice over. A s for the second myth , it
takes up, v i rtually element by element, the scenario of the voyage
to the Sun , and the various games where the j aguar loses correspond
to the obstacles that the true shaman is abl e to surmount: the dance
in the thorn s , the branches that cri ss-cross, the skunk that plunges
the j aguar i n to darkne s s , and final l y, the I carian fl ight toward s the
sun i n the c o m pany o f the v u l ture . There i s actually n o t h i ng sur
pri s i ng i n the fact that the sun m e l ts the wax that holds the j ag
uar's w i ngs in p l ac e , s i nce b e fo re the Sun will e x t ingu ish its rays
the good shaman m u s t have gotten over the prev i ous obstacles.
Our two myths thus make usc o f the theme o f the G reat Voyage
to caricature shamans and j aguars by show i ng them to be i ncapa
ble of completing that voyage . It is not w i thout reason that the
i n d igenous m i n d chooses the ac tivity most close l y tied to the sha
man's task , the meeti ng wi th the Sun; it tries to i n trod uce a bound
l ess space between the shaman and the j aguar of the m y ths and
their goal , a s pace that is fi l l ed i n by the com i c . And the fall o f the
W H AT M A K E S I N D I A N S L A U G H
1 49
S O C I E T Y A G A I N S T T H E S TAT E
11; 2
T H E D U T Y TO S P E A K
1 1) 4
T H E D U T Y TO S P E A K
1 57
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E STAT E
159
SOC I E T Y A G A I NS T T H E ST A T E
Iho
P R O P HE T S I N T HE J U N G LE
162
P R O P H E T S I N T H E J U N G L E
ans have n o t k n own) than for the fact that it is emble matic of the
perhaps d e fi nitive a l lotment o f the h u man and the divine, each
rooted to its own shore . And yet, the desire of the M bya is to
pl ease the gods, to m e rit the vVords that wil l open the way to the
eternal land, the Words that teach men the norms o f their fu ture
existence . May the gods speak at last! May they recognize the eHort
of men, thei r fasts, their dance" their prayers! The jeguaka\(] tenond!'
poriingue 'i , the l ast of those who were the fi rst to be adorned, no
less rich in merits than their forefathe rs, long to l eave the earth :
then wil l their destiny be fu l fi l l ed.
What fol l ows is an Indian's meditative prayer, tragic in the earl y
rn o r n i Ilg s i l c i lc e u r a f�J re s t : the c lari ty o f i t s appeal i s n n t ITIarrcd
by the u n d e rground prese nce of the Guarani feeling and taste I{ Jr
d eath, th eir d e stination; it is a token o f th eir conside rabl e wis
dom that it is one road they know h o\\' to traYe I .
For, in truth,
I exist in a manner imperfect,
mx blood is of a nature imperfect,
mX flesh is of o no ture imperfect,
it is horrible, it is lacking in all excellence.
Things beinH th us armnged,
so tha t mx blood of o notl1rc imperfect,
so tha t my flesh ofa naLll re imperfect,
shake themselves and cast their imperfection far from them:
with bended knees, I bow down, l with a valorous heart in view.
And Xet hear this: thou dost not u tter the words.
166
P R O P H E T S I N T H E J U N G L E
0 l'po r tu n i t y t o thank h i m .
Of the One Without the Many
Jt was a fter the flood. A sly and calculating god was instructing his
son how to put the world back together: "This is what you will
do, my son. Lay the fu ture foundations o f the i m perfect earth . . .
Place a good hook as the fu ture foundation o f the earth . . . the
l i t t l e w i l d pig will be the one to cause the i m p erfect earth to
m u l t i p l y . . . \Vhen it has reached the size we wan t , I will let you
know, my son . . . J , Tupan , am the one who looks after the sup
port o f the earth . . . " Tu pan , master of the hai l , rain , and w i n d s ,
w a s bored ; h e w a s having to play b y himself and fel t the need for
c o m pany. But not j ust anyone, not j ust anywhere. The gods l ike
to choose their playmates. And this one wanted the new earth to
be an i m perfect earth, an evil earth , yet one capab l e of welcoming
the l i t t l e beings destined to stay there. That i s why, seeing ahead ,
h e knew in advance that he wou l d have to fac e N ande Ru E t c , the
master o f a fog that rises, heavy and dark , from the pipe he smokes ,
making the imperfect earth uninhabitable. " I sing more than N and e
Ru E t e . I \vill know what to d o ; I will return . I w i l l make it so
that the fog will lie light on the i mperfect earth . It is only i n this
way that those l i ttle beings we are send ing there w i l l b e cool ,
happy. Those we are sending to the earth, our little childre n , those
SOC I E T Y A G A I NS T T H E ST A T E
170
O F T H E O N E W I T H O U T T H E M A N Y
17 1
S O C : E T Y A G A I N S T T H e:. STAT E
'7 2
O F T H E O N E W I T H O U T T H E M A N Y
17 3
SOC I E T Y A G A I NS T T H E ST A T E
174
O F T H E O N E W I T H O U T T H E M A N Y
P r i m i t i ve So c i e t i e s
17 7
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TAT E
1. rranl. K afka, " I n the Penal Colony," i n The Com p lete StoriCI, Willa and E d win M u ir, trans .,
2. Mart c h l'nko. MOil ICmoill ""Ii" ' Fran�ois Oliver, trans . , Paris, Ed itions d u Sl'uil ( Coil.
"Combats " ) , 1 9 7 1 .
O F TO R T U R E IN P R I M I T I V E SOC I E T I ES
179
S O C I E T Y A G A I NS T T H E ST A T E
c o n c e rn i ng t h e nature o f t h e k n o w l e d g e t ra n s m i t te d b y t h e ri te ,
and t h e fu n c t i o n of the body i n the perf( J rI n a n c e of t h e rite.
180
O F T O RT U R E I N P R I M I T I V E S O C I E T I E S
3. C . Catl i n , Let ters and ,\':otcs on the A1anncn, Customs, and Condition of the ,\Jorth /l mcrkan
* T h i s reier, t o that part of t h e Mandan ordeal i n which t h e a l ready e x ha u sted young men
\\'ere mad" to run (or be J raggt'd ) u n t i l t h e weights attached to t h e i r arms and l egs r i p p"d
181
SOCI E T Y A G AI N S T T H E STATE
The expl i c i tl y decl ared techniques, means, and goals of the cru
elty vary from tribe to tribe, and from region to regi o n , but the
obj ect i s al ways the same : the indi vidual must be made to suffer. I
myself have described elsewhere4 the i n i tiation o f G u ayaki young
peopl e, whose backs are furrowed over the i r entire surface . The
pai n al ways f'nrls u p b e i ng u n be;lrab!e: keepi ng si l ent dl the whi l e ,
the i ndividual being tortured l oses consc iousness . Among the cele
brated M baya-G uayc u r u o f the Paraguayan Chaco , the young m e n
o l d enough to be ad m i tted i n to t h e warri ors' ranks a l so h a d t o g o
t h rough t h e ordeal o f s u fTering. W i t h t h e a i d o f a sharpened j aguar
bone, t h e i r p e n i s e s and o t h e r parts of the body were p i erced
through . There too, s i l e nce was the price exacted by the i n i tiation .
Thc e x a m p l es could be m u l ti pl ied e n d l essl y and they wou l d
a l l tel l u s one and the same t h i ng : i n pri m i t i ve soc i e t i e s , torture i s
the essence o f t h e i n i tiation ri tual . B u t i s n o t t h i s c ru e l ty i n tl i cted
on the bod y a i m ed sol e l y at m easu ring the you ng peo p l e 's capacity
for physical resi stanc e , at reassuri ng the soc i ety as to the (j u a l i t y
o f i ts m e m bers ? Wou l d not t h e pu rpose of torture i n t h e ri te b e
m e re l y to fu rn i s h t h e occasion to demon strate individual Il'orth ?
Cat l i n e x p resses t h i s c l assic v i ew p o i n t q u i te wel l :
5 . "v\. D o b r i z h o fl.r, l lis"',;" de los :l h;l'ones, U n i versidJd Nacional del Nordeste, Fac u l tad
VI . Memorv
/
and the law
T h e i n i t i atory r i t ual i s a pedagogy that passe s fro m the group to
the i n d i v i dual , fro m the tribe to the young peopl e . An assertive
p e d agogy, and n o t a dialogue : hence the i n itiates must remain silent
u n d e r the torture . S i lence gives consent. To what d o t h e young
people c o n se n t ? They consent to accept t h e mselves for what they
are fro m t h a t t i m e forward: ful l members of the community. No th
ing more, nothing less. And they are i rreversibly m arked as such . Thi s ,
t h en , i s t h e secret that the group reveals t o t h e you ng people i n
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TAT E
1 86
O F TO R T U R E I N P R I M I T I V E S O C I E T I E S
P ri m i t i ve s o c i e t i e s a r e s o c i e t i e s w i th o u t a S t a t e . T h i s f�1C t u a l
j udgm e n t , accurate i n i t s e l f, actual l y h i d e s an o p i n i o n , a val u e
j u dg m e n t that i m m e d iate l y throws d o u b t on t h e p o s s i b i l i ty o f
cons t i t u t i ng p o l i ti c a l anthropology as a stri c t s c i e n c e . What t h e
s t a t e m e n t s ay s , i n fac t , i s t h a t p r i m i t i v e s o c i e t i e s are m i s s i ng
s o m e t h i ng - the State - that i s essential to the m , as i t i s to any
o t h e r s o c i et y : o u r own , fo r instan c e . Conseq u e n t l y, those soci e
ties are incomplete ; t h ey arc n o t q u i t e t r u e s o c i e t i e s - t h e y a r c n o t
civilized - t h e i r e x i stence c o n t i n u e s to s u ffer the p a i n fu l e x peri
ence o f a lack - the lack of a State - which, try a s they may, they
w i l l nevcr make u p . W h e ther c l earl y stated or n o t , that i s w h a t
comes through in the e x p lorers' chronicles and the work of research
ers a l i k e : s o c i e t y is i nconceivab l e w i th o u t the State ; the State i s
t h e d e s t i ny o f every socie ty. One detects an e t h n o c e n tric b i a s i n
t h i s a p p roach ; m o re o ften than not i t i s u n c o n sc i o u s , and s o t h e
more firml y anchore d . I ts immediate, spontaneous reference , whil e
perhaps n o t the best know n , is i n any case the m o s t fam i l i ar. I n
e ffe c t , each one o f u s carries vv i thin h i m s e l f, i n tern a l i z ed l i k e t h e
beli ever's fait h , the certitude that society e x i s t s fix the State . How,
the n , c a n o n e c o n c e i ve o f the very e x i stence o f p r i m i tive s o c i e
t i e s i f n o t as the rej ects o f universal h i story, anachro n i s t i c rel i c s o f
S O C I E T Y A G A I N S T T H E STAT E
ductive ac tivities. Take the case of the South American tribes who
prac ticed agric u l tu r e , the Tupi-Guarani , for example , whose i d l e
ness was such a source o f i rritati on to the French and the Portu
guese. The economic l i fe o f those I ndians was p r i m aril y based on
agriculture, secondari l y o n hunting, fishing, and gatheri ng. The
same garden plot was used for from fou r to six consecu tive years ,
a fter which i t was aband oned , owing either to the depletion o f
the so i l , or, more likely, to an invasion of the cul tivated space by a
parasitic vegetati on that was d i ffi c u l t to eliminate . The b iggest
part o f the work , pe rformed by the men, consi sted of c l earing the
necessary arca by the slash and burn techn i q u e , u s i ng stonc axes.
T h i s j ob , accom pl i shed at t h e end of the rainy seas o n , would keep
the men busy for a m o n th or two. Nearly all the rest o f the agri c u l
tural process - p l a n t i ng , weeding , harvesting - was t h e respon s i
b i l i ty o f the wo m e n , i n kee p i ng w i th t h e sexual d i v i s i o n o f l abor.
T h i s happy con c l u s i o n fo l l ows: the men ( i . e . , one-hal f the popu
lati o n ) worked about two months every fo u r years ! As fo r the
rest o f the t i m e , they rese rved i t for occupati ons e x peri enced not
as pain b u t as p l easure : h u n t i ng and fi s h i ng; enterta i n m e nts and
d ri n k i ng sess i o n s ; and final l y fo r sat i s fy i ng the i r pass ionate l i k i ng
fo r warfare .
Now, these q u a l i tative and i m press i onistic p i eces of i n f()rma
tion find a stri k i ng confi rmation i n recent research - some o f i t
sti l l i n progress - o f a rigorously conclusive natu re, since i t i nvolves
measu ri ng the t i m e spent work i ng i n soc i e t i es w i th a subsi stence
economy. The figures obtai ned , whether they concern nomad hunt
ers o f the K a l ahari Desert, o r A m e r i ndian sedentary agri c u l t u r
ists, reveal a mean apport i o n m e nt o f l es s than fo ur hours dai l y for
ord i nary wo rk t i m e . J . L i zo t , who has been l i v i ng fiJr several years
am ong the Ya n o m a m i I n d ians of the Venezu e l an A mazon reg i o n ,
h a s c h ro n o m etri c a l l y estab l i shed t h a t t h e average length of t i m e
s p e n t work i ng each d ay b y ad u l t s , includin8 all activities, bare l y
1 94
S O C I E T Y A G A I N S T T H E S TAT E
1 97
S O C I E T Y A G A I N S T T H E S TAT E
as p o s i tivity, as a mastery of the natural mil ieu and the social project;
as the sovereign w i l l to let noth i ng s l i p outs i d e its b e i ng that might
alter, c o rrupt, and destroy it. This is what needs to be fi rm l y graspe d :
p r i m i tive soci e t i e s a r e not overdue embryos o f s u b s e q u e n t s o c i e
t i e s , s o c i a l bod i e s whose "normal " deve l o p m e n t was arre sted by
s o m e s t range malady; they a r e n o t s i tuated at the c o m m e n c e m e n t
o f a h i s to r ical l o g i c l e ad i ng straight to an e n d given ahead of t i m e ,
b u t recognized o n l y a posteriori as our own s o c i al syste m . ( I f hi s
tory i s that l og i c , how is i t that pri m i t i ve s o c i e t i e s sti l l e x i s t ? ) A l l
t h e fo regoing i s e xpressed , a t the level o f e c o n o m i c l i fe , b y the
refu s a l o f pri m i tive s o c i e t i e s to a l l ow work and p ro d u c t i o n t o
eng u l f t h e m ; by the d e c i s i o n to restric t suppl i e s to s o c i o - po l i ti c a l
n e e d s ; b y t h e intrinsic i m p o s si b i l i ty o f c o m p e t i t i o n ( i n a p ri m i
t i v e s o c i ety what wou l d b e t h e u s e o f being a ric h m a n i n t h e
m i d s t o f poor m e n ? ) ; i n short, by the proh i b i ti o n - u n s tated b u t
s a i d n o n etheless - o f i n eq u a l i ty.
W h y i s t h e e c o n o m y i n a p r i m i t i ve s o c i e ty n o t a p o l i t i c a l
e c o n o m y ? T h i s i s d u e t o t h e evident fact that i n p ri m i ti v e s o c i e
t i e s the economy i s n o t autonomou s . I t might be s a i d that i n t h i s
s e n s e p ri m i tive societies are societies w i thout an economy, beca use
thev refuse an economy. B u t , i n t h a t case , m u s t o n e aga i n d e fi n e the
p o l i ti ca l i n these societies i n terms o f an absence ? M u s t i t b e
s u p pp o s e d that , since w e a r e d e a l i ng w i t h " l aw l e s s a n d k i ng l e s s "
s o c i e t i e s , they l ack a fi eld o f p o l i tical acti v i t y ? And woul d w e n o t ,
i n that w ay, fal l i n to the c l a s s i c rut o f an ethnocen tri s m for w h i c h
"l ack" i s the salient feature at a l l l evels of societies that are d i ffe rent?
Let us d iscu s s , then , the q u e s t i o n of the p o l i t i c a l d i m e n s i o n i n
p r i m i t i v e soci e t i e s . I t i s n o t s i m p l y a m atter o f an " i n teresting"
p ro b l e m , a subj ect to be pond ered by spec i a l i sts a l on e . For, i n
t h i s i n s ta n c e , eth n o l ogy woul d have to b e b r o a d e nough i n s c o p e
to meet the requirements o f a general theory ( yet to be constructe d )
of society and h istory. The e xtraordi nary diversity of types of social
199
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E STAT E
2 00
S O C I ET Y A GA I N ST T H E S TA T E
201
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E STAT E
i n any way. I t wou l d appear that where their conditi ons of mate
rial existence were all that changed , they remained as they were ;
that the N e o l i t h i c Revo l u ti on - w hi l e i t d i d have a considerable
effect on the material l i fe o f the human groups then existing, doubt
less making l i fe easier for them - did not mechanically bring about
an overturn i ng o f the social order. I n other words , as regards primi
tive soci e t i e s , a transformation a t the l evel o f what Marxists term
the econ o m i c i n frastructure is not necessari l y "reflected" in i t s
coro l lary, the p o l i tical s uperstructure, s i n c e t h e l atter appears t o
be independent o f i ts material base. T h e American continent clearly
i l l u strates t h e i n d ependence o f the economy and s o c i e ty w i t h
respect to one anoth er. Some groups o f hun ters-fishers-gatherers .
be they nomads o r n o t , present the same soci o-poli tical charac
teri s t i c s as t h e i r s e d e n tary agr i c u l t u r i s t n e i g h b o r s : d i ffe rent
"infrastructures ," the sa m e "superstruc ture ." Converse ly, the meso
American s o c i e t i e s - i m perial soc i et i e s , soc i e t i e s w i th a State
de pended on an agri c u l tu re that, although more in tens ive than
el sewhere , n evertheless was very s i m i l ar, from the stand point o f
i ts technical l eve l , t o t h e agri c u l ture o f t h e "savage" tribes of the
Trop i cal Forest; the same " i n frastructure , " d i fferent " s u perstruc
tures , " s i n c e in the one case it was a matter o f soc ieties w i thout a
State, in t h e o t h e r case fu l l -fl edged States.
Hence, it i s the Pol i t i cal break [coupurc] that i s d e c i s i ve , and
not the e c o n o m i c tran sformati o n . The true revo l u t i o n i n man's
proto hi story is not the Neol i t h i c , s i nce it may very w ell l eave the
prev i o u s l y e x i s t i ng soc ial organization i n tac t; it is the poli tical
revolution, that mysterious emergence - irreversible, fatal to pri m i
tive soc i et ies - o f the t h i ng we k n o w b y the name o f the State .
And i f one wants to preserve the Marxist c oncepts o f i n frastruc
ture and superstructure, then perhaps one must acknow l edge that
the i n frastru c t u re is the pol i tical , and the su perstru c t u re i s the
econom i c . Only one structural , cataclysm i c u p heaval i s capable
20 2
S O C I E T Y AG A I N ST T H E STAT E
203
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TAT E
wou l d have to precede the emergence of the State machine. ' Let
me point out, i n passing, the extreme fragility of that purely i nstru
mentali s t theory of the Stat e . I f society is organized by oppressors
who are able t o exploit the oppressed, this i s because that abil i ty
to impose ali enation rests on the use of a certain force , that i s , on
the thing that constitutes the very substance of the State, "the
monopol y o f legitimate physical violence." That being granted,
wh at necessity woul d b e met by the existence of a State , since its
essence - v i o lence - i s inherent i n the division of society, and, i n
that sens e , i t i s a l ready given i n t h e oppression that o n e group
inflicts o n the others? It wou l d b e no more than the useless organ
of a function that is fi l l e d b e forehand and elsewhere.
Tyi ng the emergence of the State machine to a transformation
o f the social structure resul ts merely i n deferring the problem of
that emergence. For then one must ask why the new d i v i sion of
men into ru l ers and ru led within a primi tive society, that i s , an
undivided society, occurred . What motive force was behind that
transformation that c u l m i nated in the formation o f the State? One
might reply that its emergence gave legal sanction to a private
property that had come into e x i stence previ ou sly. Very good . But
why woul d private property spring up in a type of society i n which
i t i s unk nown because i t i s rej ected ? Why wou l d a few members
want to proclaim one d ay : this is mine, and how could the others
a l l ow th e s e e d s o f the t h i ng p ri m i t i ve society knows n o th i ng
about - authori ty, oppression, the State - to take hold? The know l
edge of p ri m i tive societies that w e n o w have no longer perm i ts u s
to l o o k for t h e o rigi n o f the poli ti cal at the level of t h e econo m i c .
That is no t t h e soil i n w h i c h t h e genealogy of t h e State h a s i t s
roots. There i s nothing i n the econom i c work i ng of a pri m i tive
society, a society w i thout a State, that enables a d i flcrence to be
i ntrod uced m ak ing some ri cher or poorer than others , because no
one in such a society feels the quaint desire to do more , own more ,
2 04
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E STAT E
or appear to be more than his neighbor. The abi l ity, held by all
cultures alike, to satisfy their material needs , and the exchange o f
goods a n d services , which continually prevents the private accu
mulation ofgoods, quite simply make i t impossible for such a desire
the desire f()r possession that is actually the desire for power - to
develo p . P rimitive society, the first society of abundance, l eaves
no roo m for the desire for overabundance.
Primitive societies are societies without a State because for them
the State i s impossible. And yet all civilized peoples were first
primitives: what made it so that the State ceased to b e impossi
ble? Why did some peoples cease to be primi tive s ? What tremen
dous e vent, what revolution, allowed the figure o f the Despot, of
he who gives orders to those who obey, to emerge ? Where does politi
caJ power come from? Such is the mystery ( perhaps a temporary one )
of the origin.
While i t sti l l does not appear possible to d etermine the condi
tions in which the S tate emerged , it i s possible to specify the con
ditions of its non-emergence; and the texts assembled in this volume
attempt to delineate the space o f the poli tical in societies w i th
out a State. Faithless, lawless, and kingless : these terms used by
the s i xteenth-century West to describe the I nd ians can easily be
ex tended to cover all primitive societi es. They can serve as the
distinguishing criteria: a society is primitive i f i t i s without a k i ng ,
a s t h e l egitimate source of the law, that is, the State machine. Con
versely, every non-primi tive society is a society w i th a State : no
matter what socio-political regime is in effect. That is what per
mits one to consolidate all the great despotisms - k i ngs, emperors
of China or the Andes, pharaoh s - into a single class, along with
the more recent monarchies - "I am the State" - and the contem
porary social system s , whether they possess a liberal capitali s m as
in Western Europe, or a State capitalism such as exists elsewhere . . .
Hence there is no king i n the tribe, but a chief who i s not a
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chief of State . What does that imply? Simply that the chief has no
authority at his d isposal , n o power o f coercion, no means of giv
i ng an order. The chief i s n o t a commander; the people o f the
tribe are under n o obi igation to obey. The space of the chieftainship is
not the locus of power, and the "profile" of the primitive chief in no
way foreshadows that o f a future despot. There is nothing about the
chieftainship that s uggests the State apparatus derived from it.
How i s it that the tribal chief does not prefigure the chief of
State? W hy i s such an anticipation not possible in the world of
Savages? That radical discontinuity - which makes a gradual tran
s i t i o n fro m t h e primi tive c h i e ftai n s h i p to the State machine
unthinkabl e - i s l ogically based in the relation o f exclusion that
places political power outside the chieftainship. What we are deal
ing with is a chief vyithout power, and an institution , the chief�
tai n sh i p , that i s a stranger to its essence, which is authori ty. The
function s o f the chief, as they have been analyzed above , are con
vincing proof that the chieftainship does not i nvolve functions of
authori ty. Mai n l y responsihle fllr resolving the confl i cts that can
su rface between i ndividuals, fami l i e s , l i n eages , and so forth , the
chief has to re l y on nothing more than the prestige accorded h i m
b y the society to restore order a n d harmony. B u t prestige does n o t
sign i fy power, certainly, a n d t h e means the chief possesses for per
form i ng his task of peacemaker are limited to the usc of speec h :
not even to arbitrate between t h e contending parties, because the
chief is not a j udge ; but, armed only with his eloquen c e , to try to
persuade the people that i t i s best to calm dow n , stop i n sulting
one anothe r, and e m ul at e the ancestors who a l ways lived together
in harmony. The success of the end eavor i s never guaran teed , flJr
the ch ief 's word carries no force of la w. [ f the effort to persuade shou ld
fai l , the confl ict then risks having a violent outcome, and the chief's
prestige m ay very well be a casualty, since he will have proved h i s
inabil i ty to accom pl i sh what was expected o f h i m .
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S O C I E T Y AG A I N ST T H E STAT E
2 07
S O C I E T Y A G A I f'..' S T T H E S TAT E
between the chief and the tribe remain unchanged . B u t the risk o f
a n excessive desire o n t h e part o f t h e c h i e f w i th respect to that o f
t h e tribe a s a whol e , t h e danger to h i m o f going t o o far, o f exceed
i ng the strict l i m i ts allotted to h i s office, i s ever present . Occa
sional l y a chief accepts run n i ng that risk and attempts to put h i s
pers o n al i nterest ahead o f t h e coll ective i nterest. Reversing the
normal relationship that determines the leader as a means in the
serv i c e of a social l y defined e n d , he tri e s t o make soci e ty i n to the
means for achieving a purely private end: the tribe in the service of the
chief and no longer the chief in the service of the tribe. I f i t " wo rked , "
then w e wou l d have fou n d the birthplace o f poli tical p ower, as
force and violence; we wou l d have the fi rst i ncarnatio n , the mini
mal fc)rm of the State . But it never work s .
I n the very fine acc o u n t o f t h e twenty years she s p e n t among
the Yanomam i , 2 Elena Val e ro talks at l e ngth about her fi rst hus
ban d , t h e war leader Fousiwe. H i s story illustrates quite well the
fate o f the primitive chief when, by the force o f circumstances,
h e i s l e d to transgress t h e l a,,, of primitive society; being the tru e
l o c u s o f power, society refuses to let g o of i t , refuses t o d e l egate
it. So Fousiwe i s ackn owledged by his tribe as "chief, " owi ng to
the prestige he has obtained for himself as the organizer and l eader
o f victorious raids against enemy group s . As a resu l t , h e p l a n s and
d i rects wars that his tribe undertakes willingly ; he places h i s tech
n ical c o mpetence as a man o f war, his courage , and h i s dynamism
in the service of the gro u p : h e is the effective instru m e n t o f his
society. But the u n fortunate thing about a primi tive warri or's l i fe
i s that the prestige h e acq uires i n warfare is soon lost i f i t i s not
constantly renewed b y fresh successes . The tribe, for w h o m the
chief i s nothing more than the appropriate tool for i m p l e m e n ting
'
2. E t t o rc B i occa a n d I le l e n a Valero , Ya naam a , D e n n i s R h o d e s , trans . , New Yo rk . D u t t o n ,
1 970.
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SOC I E T Y A G A I NS T T H E STAT E
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SO C I E T Y A G A I NS T T H E ST A T E
2J I
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E STAT E
212
S O C I E T Y AGA I N S T T H E STAT E
213
S O C I E T Y A G A I N S T T H E S TAT E
2 II,
SOC I E T Y A G A INST T H E ST A T E
2 16
S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TAT E
2 17
S O C I E T Y A G A I N S T THE STAT E
S t u d i e s at t h e E c o l e Prati q u e d e s Hautes
politique ( 1 9 8 0 ) .