Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Bell's Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice


Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice
Catherine Bell
Introduction
“[R]itual has simultaneously become an object, a method, and even something of a style of scholarship on the American academic scene” (3).
“This book undertakes such an analysis in two ways: first, through a critical reading of how the notion of ritual has been used in the study of religion, society, and culture; second, through an attempt to carve out an approach to ritual activities that is less encumbered by assumptions about thinking and acting and more disclosing of the strategies by which ritualized activities do what they do” (4).
The book analyzes the work that has been done with ritual as a category to get to where the scholarship is and suggests other places to take the category of ritual (4). The starting point of the study is consideration of what causes certain acts to be called ritual, how the category affects knowledge about other cultures, and what the assumptions are that limit how we think of ritual (4).
The book also seeks to understand how theoretical knowledge is formed and “theoretical activity is differentiated from other forms of social activity” (5). To do so, need to consider historical development of issues, engagement with our cultural categories, extend this to real examples (5).
The book is organized into 3 parts:
Part I: “[T]he chapters in Part I take up the initial task of a critical theory of ritual by addressing the construction of the category itself and the role this construction has played in organizing a broad discourse on religion, society, and culture. Despite the differences among historians of religion, sociologists, and anthropologists, their theories of ritual all similarly function to resolve the complex problems posed by an initial bifurcation of thought and action. Indeed, theoretical discourse about ritual is organized as a coherent whole by virtue of a logic based on the opposition of thought and action. This argument suggests that, historically, the whole issue of ritual arose as a discrete phenomenon to the eyes of social observers in that period in which ‘reason’ and the scientific pursuit of knowledge were defining a particular hegemony in Western intellectual life” (6).
Bell argues against Goody, who proposes to throw out the term ritual, which carries with it associations of universality. Bell proposes to retain but modify the term: “I do intend to modify the term ritual to function as something other than a ‘global construct’ or ‘a key to culture.’ Yet my close reliance upon current and preceding scholarship ensures continuity with the commonsense notion of ritual while making explicit some of the assumptions and perspectives built into it” (7). Namely, she questions the universality (7).
Part II: “I propose a focus on ‘ritualization’ as a strategic way of acting and then turn to explore how and why this way of acting differentiates itself from other practices. When analyzed as ritualization, acting ritually emerges as a particular cultural strategy of differentiation linked to particular social effects and rooted in a distinctive interplay of a socialized body and the environment it structures. The confusions that accompany attempts to distinguish clearly between rite and non-rite—those perennial obstacles to neat definitions and classification—are revealed to be highly significant for understanding what ritualization does” (7-8).
Part III: is on theories of ritual as social control. “The main argument suggests that ritualization is a strategy for the construction of a limited and limiting power relationship. This is not a relationship in which one social group has absolute control over another, but one that simultaneously involves both consent and resistance, misunderstanding and appropriation. In exploring how ritualized ways of acting negotiate authority, self, and society, I attempt to delineate something of the social dynamics by which all activity reproduces and manipulates its own contextual ground” (8).
Her argument relies on analysis of how language is used (8).
“This book is organized around a problem it first constructs and then solves—the problem of how the notion of ritual orders a body of theoretical discourse” (8).
Part I: The Practice of Ritual Theory
Introduction to the section:
Ritual theories are embedded in larger discourses, and how ritual is conceived reflects and supports the discourse that is its frame. This makes including ritual as objective data instead of analytic tool problematic, and it is hard to prevent a slippage from the latter to the former (13); after Kuhn and Foucault it is problematic to simply suggest ritual is a neutral category by recourse to claims that ritual is merely an analytic tool (14). Bell then goes on to outline a brief genealogy of ritual as an analytic term, starting in the 19th century when it emerges as a universal category to the more recent transformation of ritual into both an object of and a method of analysis (14). Ritual has been paired with belief as the component of religion by a range of theorists: Max Müller, Herbert Spencer, William James and others suggested that religion (centered around the sacred) is about ideas while ritual/behavior were secondary and expressive of belief (14). Durkheim and others analyzed religion as a combination of belief and rites, where the former is primary; Hubert and Mauss inverted this, suggesting rites are primary. Moving beyond religion after Mauss, ritual came to be associated not just with religion but with the more basic structures of symbolization and social communication, as well as the emerging category of culture (key to Geertz and Turner among others) (15). Ritual studies has emerged which studies ritual in its own right as both universal experience and analytic tool; in it, ritual has come to be a site where opposed social forces are brought back together again (16). She then lays out her argument for the section:
“I will show theoretical discourse on ritual to be highly structured by the differentiation and subsequent reintegration of two particular categories of human experience: thought and action. An exploration of the internal logic of this differentiation and reintegration of thought and action in ritual theory suggests that the recent role of ritual as a category in the study of culture has been inextricably linked to the construction of a specifically ‘cultural’ methodology, a theoretical approach that defines and addresses ‘cultural’ data. That is, the problems we face in analyzing ritual, as well as the impetus for engaging these particular problems, have less to do with interpreting the raw data and more to do with the manner in which we theoretically constitute ritual as the object of a cultural method of interpretation” (16-17).
Chapter 1
Summary: Bell’s major argument for this chapter is that a pattern emerges in ritual theory whereby thought and action are dichotomized and then subsequently reintegrated. This happens for a number of homologous pairs besides thought and action, like synchrony and diachrony, communitas and formalized social order (Turner), or ritual observer and actor (Geertz). The basic thought/action dichotomy is a model for this bifurcation and reintegration in this series of homologous pairs, which is driven because a logic of behavioral versus conceptual categories is set up which carries throughout work on ritual.
One pattern in theory of ritual: Ritual theory generally distinguishes action from conceptual parts of religion like belief, symbol, and myth. The latter may promote the former, but they are distinct. Sometimes ritual is described as action which is done without thought, an extreme bifurcation (19).
A second pattern: “This second pattern describes ritual as type of functional or structural mechanism to reintegrate the thought-action dichotomy, which may appear in the guise of a distinction between belief and behavior or any number of other homologous pairs” (20).
Bell shows that these two patterns are evident in several theories of ritual, including Durkheim’s.
There is a related pattern whereby ritual is portrayed as “synchronic, continuous, traditional or ontological in opposition to the diachronic, changing, historical, or social” but ritual is also portrayed as the nexus of these forces (20).
A third pattern is seen in Turner’s work, ritual is related to communal unity as opposed to friction and competition, but then it is also the site of mediation between communitas and the formalized social order (21).
Bell uses these three patterns to show how prevalent the bifurcation and then reunification at the site of ritual is: “Each of these examples employs the two structural patterns described previously: ritual is first differentiated as a discrete object of analysis by means of various dichotomies that are loosely analogous to thought and action; then ritual is subsequently elaborated as the very means by which these dichotomous categories, neither of which could exist without the other, are reintegrated” (21).
“In effect, the dichotomy that isolates ritual on the one hand and the dichotomy that is mediated by ritual on the other become loosely homologized with each other. Essentially, as I will demonstrate, the underlying dichotomy between thought and action continues to push for a loose systemization of several levels of homologized dichotomies, including the relations between the ritual observer and the ritual actor. It is this invisible process of ‘homologization’, driven by the implicit presence of an opposition between conceptual and behavioral categories, that begins to construct a persuasive and apparently logical body of discourse” (21).
Bell draws on Jameson to note parallel in linguistic theory of differentiation of two terms that come up in subsequent levels of analysis. The example of this is Saussure’s repeated pattern replication of the distinction between synchrony and diachrony that infuses levels of analysis with this artificial distinction (21-22). A similar thing happens in ritual, though unlike Saussure, in ritual, there is a reintegration not just serial differentiations (23). Ritual is DIALECTIC unlike Saussure’s linguistic theory which is based on dichotomy: “[R]itual is a dialectical means for the provisional convergence of those opposed forces whose interaction is seen to constitute culture in some form” (23).
The example is given of those analyzing Durkheim and Durkheim himself, there is a tendency to see two sociocultural processes and then try to find a theory that reintegrates them (25). Theorists speculating on ritual have tended to manipulate the thought-action dichotomy in constructing theories of ritual (25): “Hence, I am suggesting that descriptions of how rituals work have been constructed according to a logic rooted in the dynamics of theoretical speculation and the unconscious manipulation of the thought-action dichotomy is intrinsic to this construction” (25).
Bell turns to Geertz to illustrate the dichotomy/dialectic relationship in ritual theory. Geertz, who is focused on meaning, polarizes ethos and worldview, which is parallel to the analogous to the split between action and belief, respectively. He also presents them as synthesized at other times, making the ethos-worldview relationship into a dialectic (there is a related argument for “models for” and “models of”) (26). “Thus, the dichotomous nature of conceptions of order (worldview) and dispositions for action (ethos) is fundamental to Geertz’s approach, as is their resolution in such symbolic systems as ritual. The temporary resolution of a dichotomy is cast as the central dynamic of cultural life” (27).
A third pattern, too, emerges in Geertz, in addition to the dichotomy and synthesis pattern. He brings in the relationship between observer and participant of ritual: for Geertz, “ritual offers a special vantage point for the theorist to observe these processes” (27).
There is a dichotomy between what the outside observer has to analyze ritual, which is conceptual categories, and what the participant has, which is his own “conceptual framework and dispositional imperatives.” “In this argument, Geertz is setting up a third structural pattern and a third permutation of the thought-action dichotomy. That is, ritual participants act, whereas those observing them think. In ritual activity, conceptions and dispositions are fused for the participants, which yields meaning. Meaning for the outside theorist comes differently: insofar as he or she can perceive in ritual the true basis of its meaningfulness for the ritual actors—that is, its fusion of conceptual and dispositional categories—then the theorists can go beyond mere thoughts about activity to grasp the meaningfulness of the ritual. By recognizing the ritual mechanism of meaningfulness for participants, the theorist in turn can grasp its meaningfulness as a cultural phenomenon. Ritual activity can then become meaningful to the theorist. Thus, a cultural focus on ritual activity renders the rite a veritable window on the most important process of cultural life” (28). Thus, theoretical explanation of meaning “is itself a fusion of thought and action,” the former the theorist’s and the latter the participant’s. “Herein likes the implicit structural homology: the fusion of thought and action described within ritual is homologized to a fusion of the theoretical project and its object, ritual activity. Both generate meaning—the first for the ritual actor and the second for the theorist” (28).
Chapter 2
Summary: In this chapter, Bell argues that a circular logic arises when theorists base their theories of ritual on depictions of a social order that is derived from assumptions brought in by the theorist. The basic assumption is the differentiation of thought and action, and layers of homologous pairs are built on that. The theory of ritual that results is built on these introduced assumptions. Using examples of Geertz, Marxian/Hegelian concept of contradiction, Turner and Gluckman, and performance and other analogy-based theories like ritual as text, Bell suggests that what is presumed at the beginning (the discontinuity or the analogy to performance, for example) comes to dictate the conclusion about ritual that the theorist comes to at the end.
Bell opens with examples from Milton Singer and Geertz which she uses to argue that the theorist imposes his thought pattern on ritual (30-31)
She lays out the main argument up front: “Most simply, we might say, ritual is to the symbols it dramatizes as action is to thought; on a second level, ritual integrates thought and action; and on a third level, a focus on ritual performances integrates our thought and their action. The opposition of the theorist and the ritual object becomes homologized with two other oppositions, namely, the opposition that differentiates ritual (beliefs versus activities) and the opposition of two fundamental sociocultural forces that is resolved by ritual (conceptual versus dispositional forces). This homology is achieved by a hidden appeal to a type of common denominator, the opposition of thought and action. In the end, a model of ritual that integrates opposing sociocultural forces becomes homologized to a mode of theoretical discourse that reintegrates the dichotomy underlying the identification of a thinking theorist and an acting object. This type of expedient logic carries another inevitable corollary, however. That is, theories of ritual which attempt to integrate thought and action in any guise simultaneously function to maintain their differentiation” (32).
Bell goes on to show the circular logic that results from theories that start by differentiating thought and action and build layers of homologies (32)
Geertz is a primary example: Geertz distinguishes between cultural and social system, where the former is symbolic and the latter is action-based (33). After he sets up these separate categories, he suggests that ritual that fails is ritual in which culture and social system are discontinuous. Bell argues his reasoning is circular: “Ultimately, the discontinuity affirmed in the conclusion is a direct replication of the differentiation established in the beginning” (34). He fails to do better than the functionalists he critiques for not being able to explain change (33-34).
A second set of examples of circularity from homologized patterns within ritual theory is drawn from the group of theorists who describe ritual as an arena where social conflicts are worked out (Max Gluckman and Victor Turner). These arguments lead to circularity, too, because the conclusions seem to result from what the theorist has imposed on the system: “As with Geertz’s approach, these theories see ritual as designed to address fundamental conflicts and contradictions in the society, and there is similarly little evidence that the conflicts so addressed are not simply imposed through the categories of the observer” (35-6).
Another example of the same circularity of explaining the fundamentals of culture such that the theoretical tool solves puzzles that the theorist tries to explain is the Marxian and Hegelian idea of contradiction. That ritual solves fundamental social contradiction is a constructed myth, as is the idea that there’s something fundamental (36-7)
The last example is of “Performance” theory and other related analogical theories like text:
Bell claims that performance theory is guilty of presenting activity as dramatizing prior conceptual entities in order to affirm them. A system for how society works is presumed and then ritual is seen to play out in that way, i.e. Grimes suggest that the human body is primary to ritual but explains this because the body can enact social roles and cultural meanings.
Performance theory fails to break out of the dichotomy pattern. It also relies on the theorist-observer to be a participant (because a performance needs an audience) (39).
Bell critiques Turner’s late work for remaining dialectical and Stanley Tambiah’s theory of ritual as communication for falling into the dialectic pattern, too (41-42).
In her overall critique of performance theory, Bell criticizes how it rests on a slippery extended metaphor, which leads to naturalization of observer, the slippage from performance as metaphor to idea that that is the actual nature of the activity, there is no way to distinguish between different types of performance (42).
Some theorists have tried to build on and improve performance theory, but they are still vulnerable to critiques, such as the fact that sometimes ritual isn’t a performance but is intended to cause change in the outside world (43).
Geertz looks at ritual by other metaphors, including game, drama, or text (43). For example, in “Deep Play,” ritual is depicted like a text which can be decoded but also acknowledges the difficulties of using text as a metaphor, which is echoed by Tambiah (44).
Some of the problems with text as a metaphor for ritual: assumption that text is “autonomous and unified” and that it has a hidden meaning which is “fully accessible to a close reading” (45). “As the foregoing thought-action argument illustrated, the assumed existence of such a ‘something,’ the latent meaning of the act, once again devalues the action itself, making it a second-stage representation of prior values” (45). Though there are some merits to performance theory, it is problematic because it easily slips from tool to feature of reality (46).
Chapter 3
Summary: After a thorough summary of what she has covered so far—the homologized oppositions between thought and action, the thinking subject and non-thinking subject, theorist and actor, as well as the way that ritual serves a function of reintegrating these oppositions—Bell emphasizes how the discourse of ritual has been overdetermined by the initial dichotomy and rejects the thought-action dichotomy as a basis for understanding ritual. She suggests that the subordination of actors to thinkers is more damaging than the bifurcation itself. The activity of separating categories is used to imply an inequality between two things (black and white, male and female), and such an activity is harmful, but she also suggests that to understand differentiation as an activity is to understand the basis of theory-making. There are two parts to generating a theoretical discourse: identify a distinct level or mode of analysis and then identify an object of analysis, which is not independent of the mode. The two are co-constructed, each implying the naturalness of the other. After a series of examples, Bell discusses a debate in anthropology over whether there’s been a move away from grand social theory about culture and society to a discipline that is more narrowly focused on specific contexts and experiences in the field. As Quentin Skinner points out, against such arguments, those who wish to move away from object and discourse construction are actually generated “architechtonic theoretical frameworks” (52) that only appear anti-theoretical and committed to cultural self-reflection by the West. Bell provides examples of how postmodern conceptions of anthropology are engaged in self-critique, and briefly theorizes on why this discourse of cultural knowledge has come about (changes in the humanities, “the natives” freed from colonial assumptions and being educated abroad). She suggests that within this discourse of cultural knowledge, there may be attempts to deal with the traditional relationship between subject and theorist which needs to be reevaluated within this new context. Yet, domination has not disappeared, and is in fact maintained in the thought-action dichotomy.
“In the final analysis the results of such a differentiation between thought and action cannot be presumed to provide an adequate position vis-à-vis human activity as such. Naturally, as many others have argued before, the differentiation tends to distort not only the nature of so-called physical activities, but the nature of mental ones as well. Yet the more subtle and far-reaching distortion is not the obvious bifurcation of a single, complex reality into dichotomous aspects that can exist in theory only. Rather, it is the far more powerful act of subordination disguised in such differentiation , the subordination of act to thought, or actors to thinkers” (48-49).
“To generate theoretical discourse on culture, or almost any theoretical discourse for that matter, it is necessary to do two things: first, to specify a distinct level or mode of analysis, in this case a ‘cultural’ level; and second, to identify an object or phenomenon that exists as a ‘meaningful totality’ only on such a level of analysis. This object will act as the natural object of the specified mode of analysis, although the object so identified is not independent of this analysis; it is constituted and depicted as such in terms of the specified mode of analysis. That is, the object and the method are actually intrinsic to each other, one demonstrating the naturalness and validity of the other. As we have seen with ritual, particularly in the extended example drawn from Geertz, the structure of the constituted object is a veritable model of the method of analysis and vice versa” (49).
Example from Mauss of the method/subject reliance in work on gifts (49-50), Geertz on culture and meaning (50), and Ricoeur on text and social action (50-51).
“In this very abbreviated summary, Ricoeur can be seen to lay out the steps for creating an object amenable to a certain type of scrutiny; insofar as the object so constructed and scrutinized is een to yield a higher, fuller, truer meaning (indeed, its only real meaningfulness), it simultaneously constructs and legitimates that method of scrutiny” (51).
“Skinner finds that despite themselves the major ‘anti-theorists’ of the last few decades have generated comprehensive and architectonic theoretical frameworks. Different from the ‘laws-and-instances’ mode of theorizing, as Geertz put it, the more recent style of object-and-discourse construction can appear to its participants as antitheoretical and committed to cultural self-reflection. Indeed, the cultural knowledge constituted in this type of discourse tends to see itself as both salvaging other cultures from Westernization and serving as the basis for the West’s own cultural critique” (52).
“Cultural knowledge constituted through the study of ritual and performance appears to experiment with a new sense of community between theorists and actors, characterized by modest, mutual dependence and shared problems of meaning, epistemology, and critical self-reflection. Yet the domination of the theoretical subject is neither abrogated nor transcended. This domination is maintained and disguised by virtue of the implicit structuring of the thought-action dichotomy in its various forms” (54).
“I have tried to suggest that ritual is an eminently suitable device for organizing a theoretical conversation that wishes to uncover cultural meanings through the interpretation of ‘texts’ that ‘reek of meaning.’ The construction of ritual as a decipherable text allows the theorist to interpret simply by deconstructing ritual back into its prefused components. The theoretical construction of ritual becomes a reflection of the theorist’s method and the motor of a discourse in which the concerns of theorists take center stage” (54).
Part II: The Sense of Ritual
“By building on specific aspects of practice theory, however, I will lay out an approach to ritual activities that stresses the primacy of the social act itself, how its strategies are lodged in the very doing of the act, and how ‘ritualization’ is a strategic way of acting in specific social situations. The framework of ritualization casts a new light on the purpose of ritual activity, its social efficacy, and its embodiment in complex traditions and systems” (67).
Chapter 4
Summary: Bell first sets up the problem with ritual theories that have been created thus far. Most attempts to define ritual do so by setting up a universal, and therefore incomplete, definition of ritual. Such definitions define what can be called ritual and what cannot and lead to categories of ritual. While taxonomy of ritual has been important for organizing the study of ritual, it has led to several problems: a “dizzying” number of types arise that leads theorist to talk in circles, categories undermine indigenous distinctions and blurs the particulars into unnuanced generals. Theories of ritual have tended to fall into one of two categories: rituals are a distinctive form of activity or rituals are congruous with other human actions. Within the distinctiveness group, there is a tendency to distinguish the ritual/magical (symbolic and noninstrumental) from the technical/utilitarian (practical and instrumental). The distinction between symbolic and instrumental has a tendency to collapse into emotional versus logical, which itself often leads to ritual described as cathartic and dealing with anxiety. She also notes that the symbolic vs practical distinction is not a native, but an imposed one. The other group, the one that sees “ritual as an aspect of all activity” is a newer set of theories. In this group are theories that see ritual as a type of routinization or communication. This group runs the risk of analyzing all parts of human life as ritual. She then introduces her approach, based on the idea of ritualization, which involves analyzing how certain social actions differentiate themselves from others.
To explore the dynamics of social actions, Bell turns to the concept of practice, one that has been used since Marx “to transcend dichotomies that ‘wrongly divide’ human experience” (75). She explains Marx’s two usages, one that is descriptive and one that is prescriptive. The former deals with human nature and activity, responding to problems from Hegel and Feuerbach (I will not detail them, but see page 75 if you are interested). The latter deals with how to use theory. Bell then outlines how later people follow or diverge from Marx in the use of practice, followed by a list of problems with how practice has been used (sometimes encourages slippage between levels of the argument, privileges terms afforded by positing fundamental oppositions which leads terms to become derivative, mediating role of practice can lead to synthesis of categories to be unstable and therefore not effective at mediation). Bell then gives the examples of Jameson, Bourdieu, and Ortner on practice, pointing out their limitations. She closes the section by suggesting that a theory of ritual practice should not construct a model of ritual practice but instead “describe the strategies of the ritualized act by deconstructing some of the intricacies of its cultural logic” (80-81).
Bell then outlines the features of practice, which include that it is situational, strategic, “embedded in a misrecognition of what it is in fact doing” (81), and “able to reproduce or reconfigure a vision of the order of power in the world, or what I will call ‘redemptive hegemony” (81). Situational refers to the fact that context is key, and an activity is not the same if taken out of or abstracted from the context. Strategic refers to the fact that there is a logic to practice, not an intellectualist logic, but still “a play of situationally effective schemes, tactics, and strategies” (82). Misrecognition is misrecognition of what a practice is doing: for example, Bourdieu describes gift giving as a practice which is really reciprocal exchange but what is experienced is a singular act of generosity. The last characteristic is the most complex, and “has to do with the motivational dynamics of agency, the will to act, which is also integral to the context of action” (83). Bell describes redemptive hegemony as a synthesis of Burridge’s “redemptive process” and Gramsci’s “hegemony.” She writes: “In sum, a redemptive hegemony is not an explicit ideology or a single and bounded doxa that defines a culture’s sense of reality. It is a strategic and practical orientation for acting, a framework possible only insofar as it is embedded in the act itself. As such, of course, the redemptive hegemony of practice does not reflect reality more or less effectively; it creates it more or less effectively. To analyze practice in terms of its vision of redemptive hegemony is, therefore, to formulate the unexpressed assumptions that constitute the actor’s strategic understanding of the place, purpose, and trajectory of the act” (85). Bell then compares redemptive hegemony to similar concepts like Althussor’s problematique (see 86-88), which highlights the extent to which there is a certain blindness to practice, it “does not see itself do what it actually does” (87).
In the last section, Bell returns directly to ritualization. After describing Gluckman’d and Huxley’s uses of the term, Bell describes her own, which emphasizes how practices that count as ritualization distinguish themselves from other practices and what such a distinction accomplishes. Two key concepts are relationality and differentiation. Ritualization derives its significance from its relation to other practices as well as from strategies that differentiate a ritualized practice from its “conventional counterparts” (90). The sacred and profane are also key categories: ritualization creates sacred by differentiating it from profane. There are common features to ritualization like fixity and repetition but there are no necessary, intrinsic features of ritualization. Instead, ritualization differs in different contexts, acting as “a practical way of dealing with some specific circumstances” (92). She concludes, “Hence, ritualization can be characterized in general only to a rather limited extent since the idiom of its differentiation of acting will be, for the most part, culturally specific” (93).
Summary of the problem: “With these objections [described in the summary above] an impasse appears to loom. On the one hand there is evidence that ritual acts are not a clear and closed category of social behavior. On the other hand many problems attend the attempt to see ritual as a dimension of all or many forms of social behavior” (74).
Approach: “Rather than impose categories of what is or is not ritual, it may be more useful to look at how human activities establish and manipulate their own differentiation and purposes—in the very doing of the act within the context of other ways of acting. With this approach in mind, I will use the term ‘ritualization’ to draw attention to the way in which certain social actions strategically distinguish themselves in relation to other actions. In a very preliminary sense, ritualization is a way of acting that is designed and orchestrated to distinguish and privilege what is being done in comparison to other, usually more quotidian, activities. As such, ritualization is a matter of various culturally specific strategies for setting some activities off from others, for creating and privileging a qualitative distinction between the ‘sacred’ and the ‘profane,’ and for ascribing such distinctions to realities thought to transcend the powers of human actors” (74).
Moving past other uses of practice that have failed: “Confronting the ritual act itself, and therein eschewing ritual as some object to be analyzed or some subjectivity to be fathomed, would involve asking how ritual activities, in their doing, generate distinctions between what is or is not acceptable ritual. From this perspective one could not seek to construct a theory or model of ritual practice. Rather one could attempt to describe the strategies of the ritualized act by deconstructing some of the intricacies of its cultural logic. This is the perspective that will be developed in the rest of Part II. This exploration of the distinctive strategies and cultural logic that lie behind ritual activities may also begin to illuminate the distinctive strategies of theoretical practices” (80-81).
Redemptive hegemony: “As a practical construal or consciousness of the system of power relations and as a framework for action, redemptive hegemony suggests that human practice is characterized by relations of dominance and subjugation. These relations, however, are preset in practice by means of the practical values, obligations, and persistent envisioning—as both an assumption and an extension of the system—of a state of prestige within this ordering of power. This vision exists as a practical consciousness of the world (common sense) and a sense of one’s options for social action. It is also a vision of empowerment tat is rooted in the actor’s perceptions and experiences of the organization of power. Although awkward, the term ‘redemptive hegemony’ denotes the way in which reality is experienced as a natural weave of constraint and possibility, the fabric of day-to-day dispositions and decisions experienced as a field for strategic action. Rather than an embracing ideological vision of the whole, it conveys a biased, nuanced rendering of the ordering of power so as to facilitate the envisioning of personal empowerment through activity in the perceived system” (84).
“In sum, a redemptive hegemony is not an explicit ideology or a single and bounded doxa that defines a culture’s sense of reality. It is a strategic and practical orientation for acting, a framework possible only insofar as it is embedded in the act itself. As such, of course, the redemptive hegemony of practice does not reflect reality more or less effectively; it creates it more or less effectively. To analyze practice in terms of its vision of redemptive hegemony is, therefore, to formulate the unexpressed assumptions that constitute the actor’s strategic understanding of the place, purpose, and trajectory of the act” (85).
Sacred and profane: “Whereas Durkheim defined religion and ritual as that which is addressed to the sacred, the approach presented here is an inverse of his, showing how a particular way of acting draws the types of flexible distinctions that yield notions and categories like ‘ritual’ or ‘religion.’ The relative clarity and flexibility of the boundaries, of course, are also a highly strategic matter in a particular cultural community and are best understood in terms of the concrete situation” (91).
Chapter 5
Summary: The body is the focus of this chapter. Producing a ritualized body, one that has a “sense” of ritual and works to shape the sociocultural environment so that it has control, is the implicit ends of ritualization. Ritualization does so “through the interaction of the body with a structured and structuring environment” (98). A circular process takes place where ritualization, through interaction with the environment, produces a ritualized body and that body shapes the environment. The person involved misrecognizes this process: the person perceives that the values and experiences come from a place of power beyond the person and her ritual activity. In this process of ritualization, “the production of a ritualized agent via the interaction of a body within a structured and structuring environment” (100), the context is key though not completely determinative of the ritualized agent. However, even if one claims to repeat a ritual exactly as it has been done for thousands of years, no ritual is autonomous from its context.
Bell outlines three basic dynamics of ritualization strategies: binary oppositions, hierarchization, and “the generation of a loosely integrated whole in which each element ‘defers’ to another in an endlessly circular chain of reference” (101). Durkheim (sacred vs. profane), J.Z. Smith (ritual as “assertion of difference”), and others have highlighted the role of opposition in ritual; Bell points out, however, that the oppositions aren’t symmetric but create hierarchies based on asymmetries in the opposed terms (for example, right and left side of the body are not equal, as shown by Hertz). Sets of oppositions get linked together, generating whole systems of ritual symbols and actions (right/left linked to good/evil and inside/outside). Bell uses Derrida’s concept of difference to explain how oppositions do not find resolution by organization into hierarchies, but instead form a network of oppositions that nuance each other and deferred meanings. Such a network eludes resolution: “This process yields the sense of a loosely knit and loosely coherent totality, the full potential of which is never fully grasped and thus never fully subject to challenge or denial. One is never confronted with ‘the meaning’ to accept or reject; one is always led into a redundant, circular, and rhetorical universe of values and terms whose signification keeps flowing into other values and terms” (106). The ritualized environment can translate social problems into the terms of the ritual, not resolving them but diffusing them in this network. This is the “internal strategy” of ritualization.
The ritualized body produced in ritualization brings what it has come to possess during ritual into social life. Bell introduces the term “ritual mastery,” based on Bourdieu’s “practical mastery” (schemes for ordering the world used by social agents that come to be embodied during practice), to refer to practical mastery in the context of ritualization. Bell writes, “I use the term ‘ritual mastery’ to designate a practical mastery of the schemes of ritualization as an embodied knowing, as the sense of ritual seen in its exercise” (107). With the term, Bell emphasizes that ritual is not a static, existing object but something embodied in specific contexts through work. Ritual mastery involves a circularity, where a ritualized person uses ritualization schemes to affect non-ritualized parts of life and to make them more coherent with the ritualized. Along with circularity, ritualization also relies on constant deferral of meaning and purpose.
Part of this circularity is misrecognition, seeing and not seeing. Bell explains what ritualization sees: ritualization sees itself as the correct way of acting to respond to a particular context or situation. It does not see the extent to which “it redefines or generates the circumstances to which it is responding” (109). Bell further explains: “And yet what ritualization does is actually quite simple: it temporarily structures a space-time environment through a series of physical movements (using schemes described earlier), thereby producing an arena which, by its molding of the actors, both validates and extends the schemes they are internalizing. Indeed, in seeing itself as responding to an environment, ritualization interprets its own schemes as impressed upon the actors from a more authoritative source, usually from well beyond the immediate human community itself” (109-110). Related to seeing and not seeing is use of language and communicative function of ritual as well as the comparison of ritual to text, which are both controversial and differ widely between a range of theorists.
Bell concludes the chapter with a discussion of redemptive hegemony and misrecognition. The practice of ritualization has an object-unity characteristic that ritual mastery makes evident. The agents produced in ritualization experience and relate to the world through certain strategies. A sense of fit between the environment and the socialized body ensues. Furthermore, ritualization makes this coherence seem as if it is for the person or group, empowering them.
“The implicit dynamic and ‘end’ of ritualization—that which it does not see itself doing—can be said to be the production of a ‘ritualized body.’ A ritualized body is a body invested with a ‘sense’ of ritual. This sense of ritual exists as an implicit variety of schemes whose deployment works to produce sociocultural situations that the ritualized body can dominate in some way. This is a ‘practical mastery,’ to use Bourdieu’s term, of strategic schemes for ritualization, and it appears as a social instinct for creating and manipulating contrasts. This ‘sense’ is not a matter of self-conscious knowledge of any explicit rules of ritual but as an implicit ‘cultivated disposition.’ Ritualization produces this ritualized body through the interaction of the body with a structured and structuring environment. ‘It is in the dialectical relationship between the body and a space structured according to mythico-ritual oppositions,’ writes Bourdieu, ‘that one finds the form par excellence of the structural apprenticeship which leads to the em-bodying of the structures of the world, that is, the appropriating by the world of a body thus enabled to appropriate the world.’ Hence, through a series of physical movements ritual practices spatially and temporally construct an environment organized according to schemes of privileged oppositions. The construction of this environment and the activities within it simultaneously work to impress these schemes upon the bodies of participants. This is a circular process that tends to be misrecognized, if it is perceived at all, as values and experiences impressed upon the person and community from sources of power and order beyond it. Through the orchestration in time of loose but strategically organized oppositions, in which a few oppositions quietly come to dominate others, the social body internalizes the principles of the environment being delineated. Inscribed within the social body, these principles enable the ritualized person to generate in turn strategic schemes that can appropriate or dominate other sociocultural situations” (98-99).
“[R]itualization cannot be understood apart from the immediate situation, which is being reproduced in a misrecognized and transformed way through the production of ritualized agents” (100).
“[R]itualization not only involves the setting up of oppositions, but through the privileging built into such an exercise it generates hierarchical schemes to produce a loose sense of totality and systematicity. In this way, ritual dynamics afford an experience of ‘order’ as well as the ‘fit’ between this taxonomic order and the real world of experience” (104).
“What we might call the ‘external strategy’ of ritualization, the very drawing of a privileged distinction between its activities and others, parallels what can be called its ‘internal strategy,’ the generation of schemes of opposition, hierarchization, and deferral by which the body has impressed upon it the schemes that effect the distinctive privileging and differentiation of ritualizing acts themselves. This manner of producing a ritualized agent, as I will argue next, can be seen to be the basic and distinctive strategy of so-called ritual behavior” (106-7).
“Ritualization sees its end, the rectification of a problematic. It does not see what it does in the process of realizing this end, its transformation of the problematic itself. And yet what ritualization does is actually quite simple: it temporarily structures a space-time environment through a series of physical movements (using schemes described earlier), thereby producing an arena which, by its molding of the actors, both validates and extends the schemes they are internalizing. Indeed, in seeing itself as responding to an environment, ritualization interprets its own schemes as impressed upon the actors from a more authoritative source, usually from well beyond the immediate human community itself. Hence, through an orchestration in time of loosely and effectively homologized oppositions in which some gradually come to dominate others, the social body reproduces itself in the image of the symbolically schematized environment that has been simultaneously established” (109-110).
“Ritual does what it does through the privileged differentiations and deferred resolutions by which the ritualized body structures an environment, an environment that in turn impresses its highly nuanced structure on the bodies of those involved in the rite. Strategies, signification, and the experience of meaningfulness are found in the endless circularity of the references mobilized, during the course of which some differentiations come to dominate others. Ritual mastery is the ability—not equally shared, desired, or recognized—to (1) take and remake schemes from the shared culture that can strategically nuance, privilege, or transform, (2) deploy them in the formation of a privileged ritual experience, which in turn (3) impresses them in a new form upon agents able to deploy them in a variety of circumstances beyond the circumference of the rite itself” (116).
Chapter 6
Summary: This chapter explores ritual traditions and systems in historical, territorial/calendrical, and organizational/expert-based dimensions. Bell first summarizes the way theorists have dealt with the relationship between tradition, continuity, and change, pointing out that several scholars suggest a flexibility or oral culture and rigidity of written culture; also, ritual can be fixed activities and also have aspects that adapt. Bell suggests, as others have too, that these conclusions miss the fact that ritual can construct tradition (example: Bloch’s concept of formalization of speech to form an oratory code). Constructed tradition is key to community identity formation; such construction from ritual is a powerful strategy based on authoritative precedents and perceptions of consensus on historically rooted values. Bell emphasizes that tradition is not static but is “constantly produced and reproduced, pruned for a clear profile, and softened to absorb revitalizing elements” (123). Ritual is not just blind reenactment of ritual precedent but is subject to constant reinterpretation and renegotiation.
Groups across spatial territories are also linked through systems of ritual practice, built from “a complex orchestration of standard binary oppositions [including vertical, horizontal, and central/local oppositions] that generate flexible sets of relationships both differentiating and integrating activities, gods, sacred places, and communities vis-à-vis each other” (125). These oppositions differentiate and integrate communities, largely based on ritual activities being organized temporally either to differentiate or synchronize groups. Bell emphasizes that ritual systems do not just control social systems, but constitute those systems.
The ritual specialists section is based, in large part, on Weber’s theory of rationalization, whereby different forms of religious authority (magician, priest, charismatic prophet) come with increasing rationality. Marxists built on this theory, tying rationalization to development of institutions with specialists, reducing the need for public ritual. Goody reanalyzes Weber in terms of writing, missing oral societies. Bell lists several common features to ritual specialists, including authority resting on importance of ritual for creating networks of people and the supernatural; stabilization and control of religious power; and ranking ritual activities in importance, which is a dynamic and ambivalent process. Bell then discusses orality and literacy, and the different strategies of ritualization each entails. Authority in oral societies is based on memory, seniority, and practical expertise while in written societies it is based on access to texts (136). Textual traditions have the challenge or reconciling the past with the present textual tradition—changes must somehow be sanctioned, which enhances authority of the interpreters. Textual traditions are also often connected with the assertion of universal values instead of the local. Bell then suggests that Weber’s model of inevitable rationalization. She concludes by reflecting on the framework of ritualization (see below, 140-141).
“Ritual can be a strategic way to ‘traditionalize,’ that is, to construct a type of tradition, but in doing so it can also challenge and renegotiate the very basis of tradition to the point of upending much of what had been seen as fixed previously or by other groups. […] As with the invented traditions described by Hobsbawn and Ranger, various attempts in American society in the last two decades to create new rituals deemed more appropriately symbolic and representative involve renegotiating a repertoire of acknowledged ways of acting ritually. Such innovations may be subtle or dramatic; they may radically reappropriate traditional elements or give a very different significance to standard activities; they may overturn meanings completely through invented practices. The continuity, innovation, and oppositional contrasts established in each case are strategies that arise from the ‘sense of ritual’ played out under particular conditions—not in a fixed ritual structure, a closed grammar, or an embalmed historical model” (124).*
“It is important to emphasize a conclusion implicit in the many examples cited so far: ritual systems do not function to regulate or control the systems of social relations’, they are the system, and an expedient rather than perfectly ordered one at that. In other words, the more or less practical organization of ritual activities neither acts upon nor reflects the social system; rather, these loosely coordinated activities are constantly differentiating and integrating, establishing and subverting the field of social relations. Hence, such expedient systems of ritualized relations are not primarily concerned with ‘social integration’ alone, in the Durkheimian sense. Insofar as they establish hierarchical social relations, they are also concerned with distinguishing local identities, ordering social differences, and controlling the contention and negotiation involved in the appropriation of symbols” (130).
“These examples suggest that textualization is not an inevitable linear process of social evolution, as Weber’s model of rationalization may seem to imply. The dynamic interaction of texts and rites, reading and chanting, the word fixed and the word preached are practices, not social developments of a fixed nature and significance. As practices, they continually play of each other to renegotiate tradition, authority, and the hegemonic order. As practices, they invite and expect the strategic counterplay” (140).
“I have not proposed a new theory of ritual because I believe that a new theory of ritual, by definition, would do little to solve the real conundrums that the study of ritual has come up against. Instead, I have proposed a new framework within which to reconsider traditional questions about ritual. In this framework, ritual activities are restored to their rightful context, the multitude of ways of acting in a particular culture. When put in the context of purposive activity with all the characteristics of human practice (strategy, specificity, misrecognition, and redemptive hegemony), a focus on ritual yields to a focus on ritualization. Ritualization, the production of ritualized acts, can be described, in part, as that way of acting that sets itself off from other ways of acting by virtue of the way in which it does what it does. Even more circularity, it can be described as the strategic production of expedient schemes that structure an environment in such a way that the environment appears to be the source of the schemes and their values. Ritualizing schemes invoke a series of privileged oppositions that, when acted in space and time through a series of movements, gestures, and sounds, effectively structure and nuance an environment. In the organization of this environment some oppositions quietly dominate others but all also defer to others in a redundantly circular, and hence nearly infinite, chain of associations. The coherence, continuity, and general scope of these associations naturalize the values expressed in the subtle relationships established among oppositions. This environment, constructed and reconstructed by the actions of the social agents within it, provides an experience of the objective reality of the embodied subjective schemes that have created it. Ritualization as a strategic way of acting does not see the social agent’s projection of this environment or his or her reembodiment of the sets of schemes constitutive of it. When these schemes are embodied in a cultural sense of reality and possibility, the agent is capable of interpreting and manipulating simply by reclassifying the very relationships understood as constitutive of reality. The goal of ritualization is a strategic way of acting ritualization of social agents. Ritualization endows these agents with some degree of ritual mastery. This mastery is an internalization of schemes with which they are capable of reinterpreting reality in such a way as to afford perceptions and experiences of a redemptive hegemonic order. Ritualization always aligns one within a series of relationship linked to the ultimate sources of power. Whether ritual empowers or disempowers one in some practical sense, it always suggests the ultimate coherence of a cosmos in which one takes a particular place. This cosmos is experienced as a chain of states or an order of existence that places one securely in a field of action and in alignment with the ultimate goals of all action. Ritualization is probably an effective way of acting only under certain cultural circumstances” (140-141).
Part III
“Part I addressed the basic question, What is ritual? Part II, How does ritual do what we say it does? This third part engages yet another fundamental query: When and why do the strategies of ritualization appear to be the appropriate or effective thing to do?” (169).
“In brief, it is my general thesis here that ritualization, as a strategic mode of action effective within certain social orders, does not, in any useful understanding of the words, ‘control’ individuals or society. Yet ritualization is very much concerned with power. Closely involved with the objectification and legitimation of an ordering of power as an assumption of the way things really are, ritualization is a strategic arena for the embodiment of power relations. Hence, the relationship of ritualization and social control may be better approached in terms of how ritual activities constitute a specific embodiment and exercise of power” (170).
Chapter 7
Summary: This chapter outlines the theories of ritual and social control coming out of Durkheim. There are four theses: “the social solidarity thesis, the channeling of conflict thesis, the repression thesis, and definition of reality thesis” (171). The solidarity thesis, characteristic of the work of Robertson Smith, Evans-Pritchard, Fortes, and Munn, “suggests that ritual exercises control through its promotion of consensus and the psychological and cognitive ramifications of such consensus” (171). Stephen Lukes critiques this position for not adequately dealing with political rituals. The second thesis is forwarded by Gluckman and Victor Turner, who argue that ritual is a way to deal with conflict and restore social equilibrium. She critiques this position for viewing individuals as entirely under group control. People in the Turner-Gluckman have also added a psychological focus. The third thesis deals with repression of human violence and aggression and is characteristic of Burkert, Girard, and Heesterman. The last thesis, the one that Bell thinks is best but still problematic, is the definition of reality thesis of Geertz, T. Turner, Douglas, and Lukes. Instead of ritual acting to control, it models society: “[P]roponents of the definition of reality thesis seek to find in ritual a single central mechanism for the communication of culture, the internalization of values, and the individual’s cognitive perception of a universe that generally fits these valies” (176). Bell appreciates the “more subtle understanding of social control” (176) but critiques that it treats “rite as a nearly magical mechanism of social alchemy by which the irksomeness of human experience is transformed into the desirable, the unmentionable, or the really real” (176). While this theory does recognize that there are not such clear cut differences between primitive and modern societies, she emphasizes that context is essential, and not all groups’ rituals can be described by the same theories, which the theory does not deal with adequately.
Bell closes the chapter by outlining the relationship between ritualized activities and modes of social organization. She is particularly focused on Douglas’ theory, which emphasizes that ritual works for social control effectively in some but not all societies (those that are closed groups, have restricted communication codes, emphasis on hierarchical social position, and a system based on social consensus). Bell critiques her for emphasizing the difference between social and physical bodies. Bell also raises V. Turner’s body-centered thesis and Valeri’s intellectualist thesis, which contrast Douglas’ functionalist thesis. The latter two are noteworthy for their recognition is more complex than simple Durkheimian affect.
“In the sections that follow I will work out an alternative interpretation of the social functions of ritual, namely, how the strategies of ordering and reproduction embodied through ritualization relate to the larger questions of the organization of power relations in a society. Hence, I will attempt to demonstrate that ritual does not control; rather, it constitutes a particular dynamic of social empowerment” (181).
Chapter 8
Summary: Bell first addresses the question, what is belief? She lays out a range of theoretical work on belief and its relation to ritual, discussing whether it is social or mental and the extent to which communities share beliefs and symbolic meanings associated with ritual (Fernandez suggests suggests communities do not share common meanings of symbols, thus ritual is not a means to communicate common meanings). Bell then discusses what symbols do: many analyses suggest that symbols serve a purpose of creating solidarity and community integration. Bell emphasizes how the literature points to ambiguity of symbolism, as well as the instability of religious beliefs. She also points to research that notes that systematic formulations of beliefs suggest no cohesion but stratification. She concludes, “These studies give evidence for the ambiguity and instability of beliefs and symbols as well as the inability of ritual to control by virtue of any consensus based on shared beliefs. They also suggest that ritualized activities specifically do not promote belief or conviction. On the contrary, ritualized practices afford a great diversity of interpretation in exchange for little more than consent to the form of the activities. This minimal consent actually contrasts with the degree of conviction frequently required in more day-to-day activities…” (186). Yet, other literature shows that “ritual has an important social function with regard to inculcating belief” (186).
Bell turns next to ideology. There are two definitions of ideology, one that is akin to a cultural worldview (critiqued for implying a one dominant ideology in a society, holism) and the other is ideas promoted by the dominant classes for self-interest (criticized by asking, why would people who do not benefit buy into this?). Rejecting the holism of these definitions of ideology, Merquior draws on Gramsci’s notion of consent and negotiation: subordinate classes negotiate and accept a negotiated version of dominant values. Bourdieu argues that the subordinate classes’ acceptance is based on misrecognition of values, where the subordinate class thinks the values are good for them. Ideologies are practices where people (active agents) struggle and negotiate as opposed to a set of ideas; according to Merquior, Thompson, and Bourdieu ideology is a strategy of power.
The final section is on legitimation. Ritual is a powerful tool for legitimation, especially when power is understood as more than brute force or threats of violence. There are three main points out of Geertz, Cannadine, and Bloch with respect to rituals of legitimation: such rituals draw on traditional symbols in a way that distinguishes the current from what preceded; ritual constructs an argument; political rituals do not refer to but in fact are politics.
“In the following sections I will argue that the projection and embodiment of schemes in ritualization is more effectively viewed as a ‘mastering’ of relationships of power relations within an arena that affords a negotiated appropriation of the dominant values embedded in the symbolic schemes. To analyze the relationship of ritualization to belief, therefore, I will focus on the tension and struggle involved in this negotiated appropriation, rather than on the production of doctrines neatly internalized as assumptions about reality” (182).
“Complicity, struggle, negotiation—these terms all aim to rethink ideology as a lived and practical consciousness, as a partial and oppositional process actively constructed by all involved and taking place in the very organization of everyday life. Hence, ideology is not a coherent set of ideas, statements, or attitudes imposed on people who dutifully internalize them. Nor are societies themselves a matter of unitary social systems or totalities that act as one. Any ideology is always in dialogue with, and thus shaped and constrained by, the voices it is suppressing, manipulating, echoing. In other words, ideologies exist only in concrete historical forms in specific relations to other ideologies” (191).
Although each pursues independent analyses, Merquior, J.B. Thompson, and Bourdieu similarly conclude that ideology is best understood as a strategy of power, a process whereby certain social practices or institutions are depicted to be ‘natural’ and ‘right.’ While such a strategy implies the existence of a group or groups whose members stand to gain in some way by an acceptance of these practices, it also implies the existence of some form of opposition. Thus, ideologization may imply an unequal distribution of power, but it also indicates a greater distribution of power than would exist in relationships defined by sheer force. It is a strategy intimately connected with legitimation, discourse, and fairly high degrees of social complicity and maneuverability” (192-3).
“In sum, it is a major reversal of traditional theory to hypothesize that ritual activity is not the ‘instrument’ of more basic purposes, such as power, politics, or social control, which are usually seen as existing before or outside the activities of the rite. It puts interpretive analysis on a new footing to suggest that ritual practices are themselves the very production and negotiation of power relations. In the following chapter I will attempt to demonstrate this alternative position more fully by showing how ritualization as a strategic mode of practice produces nuanced relationships of power, relationships characterized by acceptance and resistance, negotiated appropriation, and redemptive reinterpretation of the hegemonic order” (196).
Chapter 9
Summary: Bell begins with a discussion of the term power, which is understood as influence or as force, the former “inherent, nonspecific, and inherent” and the latter “intentional, specific, and threatening” (197). The distinction between symbolic and secular power is also made, the former relating to ritual and ideology and the latter to institutions. Bell traces discussions of power from Hobbes to Lukes (who writes of three dimensions of power); another lineage of discussions of power runs from Machiavelli to Foucault, the latter being the dominant voice Bell discusses in the chapter. Bell emphasizes Foucault’s theories of power as local, working indirectly on actions, embedded in networks of relations, and exercised on those who are free and who can resist. Bell also clarifies Foucault’s use of the term ritual with respect to power. Bell explains, “‘Ritual’ is one of several words he uses to indicate formalized, routinized, and often supervised practices that mold the body” (201). She also emphasizes the importance of the body as a site of local social practices meeting large-scale institutions. She also discusses power relations and how they act in the social body for Foucault. Bell concludes, “The language of this analytics of power…enables us to begin to answer the question of this chapter: Under what general conditions is ritualization an effective social strategy? It is in ritual—as practices that act upon the actions of others, as the mute interplay of complex strategies within a field structured by engagements of power, as the arena for prescribed sequences of repetitive movements of the body that simultaneously constitute the body, the person, and the macro- and micronetworks of power—that we can see a fundamental strategy of power. In ritualization, power is not external to its workings; it exists only insofar as it is constituted with and through the lived body, which is both the body of society and the social body. Ritualization is a strategic play of power, of domination and resistance, within the arena of the social body” (204).
What are the effects and limits of ritual empowerment? Ritualization cannot be defined universally, but is about placing different limits and using different culturally specific strategies to differentiate activities that are ritualized from activities that are not. Ritualization entails the acting out of power relations, whose limits are defined by context. Bell explains two dimensions of ritualization. The first is “the dynamics of the social body, its projection and embodiment of a structured environment” that happens “below the level of discourse” and which goes on without agents recognizing their participation. The second is a level at which those who appear to be disempowered are actually empowered by ritualization through “consent, resistance, and negotiated appropriation” (207). Bell concludes by outlining four perspectives on how ritual strategies create situations of domination and resistance: ritual empowering people with various degrees of control of a rite, how their power is constrained, how those who participate are dominated, and how domination can also lead to empowerment. She ends by writing, “The variety of evidence examined here has attempted to demonstrate that ritualization necessitates and engenders both consent and resistance. It does not assume or implement total social control; it is a flexible strategy, one that requires complicity to the point of public consent, but not much more than that. Ultimately, the resistance it addresses and produces is not merely a limit on the rite’s ability to control; it is also a feature of its efficacy. It is not totally inappropriate, or unexpected, that the end of this exploration of ritual should return to one of the original questions with which it began, however altered the relationship with it may be. In Part I of this book I demonstrated the coherent, closed, and circular discourse that results when ritual is cast as a mechanism for the integration of thought and action, or self and society. In this final part I find a coherent and circular closing in the suggestion that ritual practices themselves can generate the culturally effective schemes that yield the categories with which to differentiate self and society, thought and action. This is not to say that ritualization is the only form of practice that defines the self. Hardly. It is that form of practice where the definition is simultaneously embedded in the social body and its environment, negotiated, and rendered prestigious by the privileged status that ritualized activities claim” (218). She concludes by reiterating her main arguments about ritual as a form of activity that relies on strategies to render certain ritual activities distinct, relies on the body which is shaped by and shapes the environment, and generates traditions, and defines, empowers, and constrains agents.
“The argument of this chapter is essentially a simple one: ritualization is first and foremost a strategy for the construction of certain types of power relationships effective within particular social organizations. I will attempt to develop a fuller description of the strategy of ritualization in order to return to the question with which Part III began, Why and when is ritualization an appropriate and effective way of acting? This question and its answer should be understood as an alternative to the view that ritual is a functional mechanism or expressive medium in the service of social solidarity and control. A focus on activity itself as the framework within which to understand ritual activity illuminates the complex nature of power relations” (197).
“The evocation of ritualizing strategies by activities that do not wish to be considered religious ritual is a very common feature particularly in the secularism of American society” (205).
“The deployment of ritualization, consciously or unconsciously, is the deployment of a particular construction of power relationships, a particular relationship of domination, consent, and resistance. As a strategy of power, ritualization has both positive and effective aspects as well as specific limits to what it can do and how far it can extend” (206).

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Johannes Fabian: "Time and the Other"

Introduction –
There is a contradiction within the discipline of anthropology, centering on differing notions of time. On the one hand, ethnographical fieldwork, long understood to be central to anthropological practice, takes place through a dialogue between anthropologists and interlocutors at the same time. Anthropologists and interlocutors (people of other cultures studied) respond to each other and therefore exist in the same timeframe, or in other words as contemporaries: in Fabian’s terms, in fieldwork anthropologists and interlocutors are coeval. In order to pose and answer questions on the ground, anthropologists and interlocutors must exist in the same era of time, such that both are speaking subjects in dialogue with each other.
On the other hand, in anthropological writing anthropologists and interlocutors do not appear as partners in dialogue, or even in the same time. Instead of acting as interlocutors, the people of the other culture become the Other of the anthropologist, spatially and temporally different from him/her. The anthropologist’s Other is not a partner in dialogue but an individual who the anthropologist observes. In different ways anthropological discourse relegates their Other to other times (ie. as “primitives,” “savages,” or simply as “unchanging,” a “cold” culture in Lévi-Strauss’ case), treating the studied culture as a stable, and more importantly static, object, which is thus available to be studied as it is and always will be. The differentiation between the anthropologist’s time (modern, moving time) and the time of the Other (static, less developed, older) constitutes what Fabian calls anthropology’s denial of coevalness, the denial that anthropologist and interlocutor exist in the same time, or in other words its allochronic (occurring in different times, asynchronous) discourse.
A contradiction thereby exists between anthropological practice, which by necessity occurs in one shared time between anthropologists and interlocutors, and anthropological discourse, which represents Others as existing in different times from anthropologists and the cultures they represent, a situation Fabian refers to as a schizogenic use of time. This contradiction underlies a hidden political agenda within anthropology, to create a discourse of otherness that justifies colonial domination of the Others (the “Rest” by the “West”) in order to universalize Western progress. Through anthropological discourse (but not as its exclusive provenance) a “Politics of Time” is enacted, where the West is uncritically constructed as a “we” that confronts “them” who live in another time, justifying the “domination and exploitation of one part of mankind by another.” (xl) In his acknowledgments Fabian openly states the influence of Said’s Orientalism on his own work, and sees Time and the Other as a companion project to Said’s: “I hope that my arguments will complement and, in some cases, elaborate his theses.” (xliii)
Chapter 1: “Time and the Emerging Other”
Anthropology, as a science, must define for itself an object of study. Anthropology’s object is “the savage, the primitive, the Other,” the other culture anthropology differentiates from itself through its discourse, setting the other culture up as an object fundamentally distinct from the anthropologist’s culture. A key rhetorical device used to effect this separation is the differentiation of the time of the Other’s culture and the anthropologist’s, giving that separation a seemingly objective basis and hiding the fact that “there is no knowledge of the Other which is not also a temporal, historical, a political act” of separating out an Other to act as a foil to oneself, allowing them to be known, controlled, and dominated (1). To understand how this occurs, Fabian begins by constructing a genealogy of the time used in natural science and its generalization to the nascent “human science” of anthropology from the 17th to the 19th Centuries.
Fabian’s genealogy begins with the secularization of “sacred” time. Sacred time consists of “a sequence of events that befall a chosen people,” and describes the gradual unfolding through time of the Catholic community’s salvation (2). Sacred time is linear, plotting those events that demonstrate the progression of the salvation of Catholics. “Secular” time is slowly established, in Fabian’s view, as a response to the rediscovery of mathematical and scientific treatises of Classical philosophy during the Renaissance, the consciousness raised by meeting other peoples during the Age of Discovery, and the technological advances made improving navigation at sea.
The first major process of the secularization of time is the generalization of what had hitherto been the time of salvation written by the Catholic community describing the history specifically of the Catholic community. The story of salvation is rewritten by Christians such as Bossuet to apply to “the whole world at all times:” in other words, the story of Christian salvation no longer only describes the progress of Catholics, but now has a place for every human being, Christian or not (3). In order to differentiate the permanent progress of salvation from the transitory rising and falling of political empires, Bossuet divides history into different epochs, or stages of salvation that are used as points that differentiate previous and later intervals of time. For Fabian, Bossuet’s division of history by way of epochs is significant for two reasons. First, it is a way of spatializing time: different epochs can be viewed side-by-side as discrete units of time for the purpose of clarity. Second, history is divided according to general principles, those of salvation, that give it universal order: “Thus both, the external, spatial boundaries of history and its inner continuity are of religion. Where mere sequence might cause confusion, the distinction of times in the light of divine providence creates order. It demonstrates the omnipresent work of salvation.” (4-5)
The generalization of sacred time intersected with the development of secular humanism during the Enlightenment, creating universal history. For Fabian’s purposes, the most significant aspect of humanism is a shift in the organization of knowledge most easily seen within the genre of travel literature. Previously, travel literature concerned pilgrimages, inwardly-directed passages towards sacred centers, representing the centralization of knowledge around sacred principles and religious dogmas. Secular travel literature is a movement outwards, from home to the outside world to discover the full development in stages of human destiny. At the center (Europe, the West), lies the fulfillment of the human destiny, and the periphery (the Orient, the Rest) reveals the different stages of human development all the way back to its origin, which ultimately culminate in European civilization. Human knowledge and time were thus given a tabular, spatial organization. Time, instead of describing the progress of human salvation, now described the “self-realization of man,” and could be seen in ages that could not only be conceived as a set of separate compartments, but could be directly observed by going to the geographical locations that corresponded to them (7). Knowledge was accordingly conceived as “the filling of spaces or slots in a table, or the marking of points in a system of coordinates in which all possible knowledge could be placed.” (8) By going to different locations, people could experience the different epochs of man, and by observing the people living there could fill in the details of all aspects of human development from its origins to its destiny, completing a universal history of humanity.
Fabian thus summarizes Enlightenment universal history as two theses:
1) Time is immanent to, hence coextensive with, the world (or nature, or the universe, depending on the argument); 2) relationships between parts of the world (in the widest sense of both natural and sociocultural entities) can be understood as temporal relations. Dispersal in space reflects directly […] sequence in time. (11-12)
During the 19th Century, secular universal history becomes naturalized through the addition of evolutionary schemas of development. The spatialization of time, already begun with Enlightenment universal history, takes on a new form during the 19th Century, fully subordinating geographic space to tabular space which directly represented the evolution of societies from primitives to modern Europeans. Social development is represented as a tree, with societies falling into different genera and species, such that human social evolution can be considered as much a natural fact as evolution within the animal kingdom:
J.D.Y. Peel notes that Spencer visualized evolution, not as a chain of being, but as a tree: “That this image holds true for societies as well as organisms, and for between them as well as for social groupings within them, is clear from the opening to the final volume of the Sociology where [Spencer] says ‘social progress is not linear but divergent and redivergent’ and speaks of species and genera of societies.” (Peel, quoted in Fabian, 15)
While for Fabian the anthropologists’ usage of evolutionary schemas is highly misinformed, the important fact remains that anthropologists not only give a natural scientific backing to their theory of social development, but also spatialize time according to a taxonomic model, classifying different societies based on their level of social and political development. As Fabian notes, world geography is now subordinated to conceptual geography, such that different cultures can now be fully regarded as living in different times within an abstract, evolutionary schema of historical development.
Far from being an innocent mix-up of evolutionary schemas of development, the naturalization of universal history is implicated in a reactionary political project justifying colonial domination of peoples lower down on the taxonomy of human societies. Anthropology in essence was the epistemological grounding for colonialism and imperialism, where “all living societies were irrevocably placed on a temporal slope, a stream of Time – some upstream, some downstream.” (17) With this intellectual basis it became possible to justify colonial empires on the basis of helping societies develop and progress to achieve the heights of civilization attained in Europe.
And while anthropologists eventually rejected evolutionary schemas of time, the idea that Europe/America, the cultures of anthropologists, develop, while the cultures of other peoples remain static, remains, such that anthropology still denies coevalness to the cultures they study. Fabian isolates three general forms of understanding time in which other cultures are seen as being of different times than our own:
1) Physical Time – clock-time, not organized around central human events (ie. Jesus’ crucifixion, the rising and falling of empires) but used to describe natural processes. Physical time has been translated into social sciences in two separate ways that differentiate “our” time from “their” time. The first is through the application of relativity theory to social life. Certain social thinkers have taken Einsteinian relativity to be a natural-scientific basis for the relativity of cultural experiences of time. While these efforts have largely failed, mostly due to the inapplicability of Einstein’s relativity theories to social affairs, another form of temporal separation has occurred with greater success, namely that of introducing “political physics.” (29) Ideologues have envisaged different cultures as two different physical objects that cannot exist in the same location at the same moment in clock-time, such that one must annihilate the other, generally the object with the larger army (an example of this would be the Nazi conception of lebensraum, living-space, which the Germans had to take from the Polish, the two peoples, seen as separate unified objects – one volk against another, being unable to exist in the same space at the same time). Furthermore, if anthropologists can show that other cultures exist outside of physical-time by being essentially static, they can be treated as non-entities, justifying conquest of their lands.
2) Mundane Time – the imposition of grand periods on top of physical time (ie. Neolithic, bronze age, iron age, etc.). This form of time is of little interest to Fabian as it merely segments human history into relatively arbitrary periods that do not inform anthropological work, mostly useful for “maintenance of cocktail talk about primitive mentality.” (23)
3) Typological Time – a far more significant form of periodization of history, made in reference to intervals between socioculturally significant events, such as “preliterate vs. literate, traditional vs. modern, peasant vs. industrial, […] talk about peoples without history belongs here, as do more sophisticated distinction such as the one [Lévi-Strauss makes] between ‘hot’ and ‘cold’ societies.” (23) Cultures are thus compared on a temporal scale with Western society as the constant standard for progress. By being labeled an “illiterate” or “traditional” society, an Other culture is designated as being outside of the West’s epoch, as being fundamentally Other to the West, merely an object for observation. As the quote above suggests, Fabian considers typological time to be the time most commonly used by anthropologists today (at least in 1983 when this book is published).
Common to these three forms of time is a denial of coevalness to other peoples, which Fabian defines as “a persistent and systematic tendency to place the referent(s) of anthropology in a Time other than the present of the producer of anthropological discourse.” (31) The term “coeval” specifically refers to both existing in the same physical time and typological time, in the anonymous movement of moments and the same epoch of history. Contrasted to these forms of time is a fourth which is not allochronic (consisting of devices which actively deny coevalness to the Other) in this sense, which Fabian calls:
4) Intersubjective Time – this is the time presupposed by ethnographic fieldwork. Intersubjective time, as the name suggests, occurs in the interaction between two subjects, two actors able to engage in dialogue, who create within a shared present as coevals, within the same physical and typological time. One cannot engage in a dialogue without treating the interlocutor as a speaking subject able to define him or herself without having a physical or typological schema imposed upon them (Fabian clearly doesn’t watch congressional debates on CSPAN…).
Ethnography, which presumes intersubjective time, thus contradicts anthropological discourse, which denies coevalness to the Other. Anthropology thus stands at a contradiction with itself, rooted in different operative conceptions of time, a situation which Fabian calls anthropology’s “schizogenic use of Time,” or in other words the application of two different understandings of time at odds with each other (21). Fabian isolates this split as the basis of an immanent critique of allochronic discourse in anthropology from the perspective of intersubjective time used by ethnography.
Chapter 2: “Our Time, Their Time, No Time: Coevalness Denied”
Two explanatory strategies used to describe cultures within the field of anthropology are cultural relativism and taxonomy (specifically, French structuralism). Fabian extends his analysis of allochronic discourse within anthropology by describing how these two forms of analysis deny coevalness to other cultures in different ways.
Cultural Relativism – cultural relativism, exhibited especially within structural-functionalist schools of anthropology (Fabian focuses on Margaret Mead and E.T. Hall) “circumvents” the question of coevalness by postulating that each culture has its own socially-constructed experience of time that is different from all others. The focus of study thereby shifts from studying how intersubjective time is constructed between cultures to the experience of time within a culture, bypassing entirely the question of coevalness. It is a theoretical postulate that each culture has a fundamentally distinct experience of time, making coevalness an irrelevant concept entirely. Fabian gives two criticisms of cultural relativism:
1) According to cultural relativism, intercultural communication should be impossible – following Maurice Bloch, Fabian argues that if each culture is seen as an island unto itself with fundamentally distinct ways of viewing time, then relativism creates “cultural monads, that is, culture souls without windows, with no links among each other, yet full of mirrors facing inside.” (Bloch, quoted in Fabian, 45). As argued above, communication presupposes intersubjective time, which in turn presupposes coevalness. If cultural experiences of time are truly distinct, however, then the creation of intersubjective time could not exist. The mere existence of intercultural communication thus disproves cultural relativism, as “if other people really had different concepts of Time we could not do what we patently do, that is to communicate with them.” (Bloch, quoted in Fabian, 42)
2) The supposed nonviolence of cultural relativism in fact hides a political agenda – cultural relativism explains “entire nations in terms of their basic values and patterns of socialization and institutionalization,” starting from the assumption that each society embodies separate and self-created values defining them as a civilization (46). The idea that each culture lived its own form of time “rationalized epistemologically” viewing other cultures as a coherent whole based on essential characteristics, providing a methodological grounding for Cold War analyses of politically antagonistic societies (47). Cultural relativism, setting itself up as the nonviolent form of analysis, is in fact “easily put to work for such nonrelativist purposes as national defense, political propaganda, and outright manipulation and control of other societies.” (49)
Taxonomy – exemplified in French structuralism, taxonomic analysis of cultures simply disregards time as a “significant dimension of either cultural integration of ethnography.” (52) Lévi-Strauss also postulates that each society is an isolated unit, but is interested in the relationships between different units of culture, unlike cultural relativism. In order to accomplish this, Lévi-Strauss constructs a tabular space of conceptual oppositions by which different cultures can be compared, universal “unconscious rules and laws” which all cultural forms implicitly follow (55). In constructing this tabular space of universal rules and laws by which to compare cultures, however, Lévi-Strauss encounters the same problem Saussure does, namely that of explaining how change occurs in cultures. Lévi-Strauss avoids this problem by dividing cultures into “hot” ones that place emphasis on progress and are constantly changing and “cold” ones which do not change, and claims that the proper object of anthropological study are “cold,” unchanging cultures that can be placed more easily onto his conceptual map. Lévi-Strauss thus removes time from anthropological discussion entirely, such that Saussurian “diachrony” merely refers to the “succession of semiological systems one upon another,” or in other words, more or less developed cultural units (56).
Coevalness is therefore impossible for “cold” cultures, or those anthropology studies, since they by definition exist in less-developed stages of human consciousness. Cultures for Lévi-Strauss take “shape and identity by selecting a few among a practically infinite number of possibilities (as a language selects its significant sounds from an infinite number of possible sounds).” (62) Intersubjective time, the shared time created within communicative practice, is thereby preempted, as for Lévi-Strauss no cultural production occurs through communication, only through the particular configuration of values within the system of universal rules he creates.
Chapter 3: “Time and Writing About the Other”
Fabian now proceeds to demonstrate that the schizogenic use of time between ethnography and anthropological discourse is necessary to the discipline of anthropology as it now exists, rather than being merely accidental. To demonstrate this claim, Fabian discursively analyzes the ways anthropological and ethnographical discourse engaged in temporalization, or ways of describing things (in this case objects of anthropological study) in terms bearing temporal overtones that implicitly place things into certain timeframes. Through temporalization, other cultures are placed in temporal relations with our own, “such as sequence, duration, interval or period, origins, and development” (ie. our culture developed from theirs, their culture dwells in an earlier period than ours, etc.) (75). Fabian concentrates on terms whose temporal content is connotative rather than denotative, embedded within the context in which it is used, such as “savagery” or “kinship,” which carry overtones of the past and primordial social configurations.
The main focus of Fabian’s attack on anthropological discourse is the use of the present tense in anthropological writing, which he refers to as the ethnographic present. The ethnographic present is simply the “practice of giving accounts of other cultures and societies in the present tense. A custom, a ritual, even an entire system of exchange or a world view are thus predicated on a group or tribe, or whatever unit the ethnographer happens to choose.” (80) While usage of the present tense could be simply explained away as a mere literary device, Fabian engages in linguistic analysis of statements like “the X are matrilineal” to demonstrate that the ethnographic present reveals the intention of the writing anthropologist. The writing anthropologist, the first person in anthropological discourse, addresses us, the readers, the second person in that discourse. The object of anthropology, the other culture, is the third person, thus becoming a “nonparticipant in the dialogue” between the anthropologist and us readers who he wishes to convince of his results (85). The members of the other culture are non-subjects, unable to speak for themselves, in other words non-persons: “pronouns and verb forms in the third person mark an Other outside the dialogue.” (85) Removing other cultures from dialogue is ultimately for Fabian equivalent to denying their coevalness: “it presupposes the givenness of the object of anthropology as something to be observed. The present tense is a signal identifying a discourse as an observer’s language,” as opposed to a language created in intersubjective time between subjects (86). As will be argued next chapter, discourse based on a visual model of knowledge (ie. knowledge as observation or sight of an object) is for Fabian inherently allochronic, denying the subjectivity of the object of study.
Anthropology’s relegation of the other culture to the space of the non-subjective 3rd person belies the fact, however, that anthropological knowledge can only occur through ethnography, which for Fabian requires a dialogue between individuals. Ethnographical knowledge is necessarily autobiographical, as even if an armchair anthropologist makes use of an ethnographer’s work at some point some person underwent direct communication with the other culture. Fabian does not uncritically accept all ethnography as always recognizing the coevalness of others, however. While ethnography presupposes intersubjective time created through dialogue, its practice must remain reflexive to treat interlocutors as coevals. For Fabian, anthropology is a hermeneutic activity that interprets the experiences of ethnographers in the field:
All personal experience is produced under historical conditions, in historical contexts; it must be used with critical awareness and with constant attention to its authoritative claims. The hermeneutic stance presupposes a degree of distancing, an objectification of our experiences. That the anthropologist’s experienced Other is necessarily part of his past may therefore not be an impediment, but a condition of an interpretive approach. (89)
An ethnographer must retain some critical distance from his/her experiences with interlocutors, but this does not necessarily mean denying their coevalness. Ethnography requires dialogue with others, thus recognizing the subjectivity of interlocutors, a recognition that requires spending intersubjective time with those interlocutors: “However, it is imaginable that an ethnographer constantly “on the move” may lose his ability to make worthwhile ethnographic experiences altogether, for the simple reason that the Other would never have the time to become part of the ethnographer’s past. Time is also needed for the ethnographer to become part of his interlocutor’s past.” (90)
Along with spending time in dialogue with others, ethnographers must also engage in reflexion, which Fabian distinguishes from reflection. Reflection attempts to hide the subjectivity, the biases, assumptions, and methods of interpretation of the ethnographer within seemingly objective discourses such as those outlined last chapter, whereas reflexion understands that any description of an interlocutor is grounded in an individual’s experience, thus engaging their subjective faculties: “When it is said that primitives are stolid this translates as ‘I never got close enough to see them excited, enthusiastic, or perturbed.’ When we say that ‘they are born with rhythm’ we mean ‘we never saw them grow, practice, learn.’ […] All statements about others are paired with the observer’s experience.” (91) Ethnographers must recognize that their dialogues with others are part of their personal experiences and write ethnography in those terms. Reflexivity recognizes that interlocutors share a past and thus time with anthropologists, and thus recognizes coevalness with interlocutors: “somehow we must be able to share each other’s past in order to be knowingly in each other’s present.” (92) Anthropological discourse must cease regarding personal experience as an impediment to scientific objectivity, instead recognizing that all anthropological work requires personal experiences with others.
Fabian concludes this chapter by looking once more at taxonomic writing of anthropological knowledge. Even taxonomic organization of knowledge which is not based on evolutionary schemas of time cannot recognize coevalness as it denies the possibility of reflexivity. Taxonomies operate on a hierarchical basis, beginning with universal laws and fitting more specific facts into frameworks based on those laws. Any experiences garnered in ethnography are reorganized to fit within rule-based frameworks, and as long as experiences are understood as being truly organized as logical relations, they prevent the interpersonal experiences of ethnographers from being considered legitimate sources of knowledge: “The demonstrable fact that discourse qua spatiotemporal action can be described in purely logical-taxonomic terms in no way justifies the belief that it consists of logical relations.” (103)
Chapter 4: “The Other and the Eye: Time and the Rhetoric of Vision”
According to Fabian, the techniques used by ethnographers in their first period of studying another culture are to, along with learning the language, “mapping settlements, counting households, and drawing up genealogies of the inhabitants.” (105) Like the conception, seen last chapter, of ethnography as observation of other cultures, anthropological knowledge is seen as primarily visual, focusing on creating diagrams and maps which can be seen. Three assumptions underlie these prescriptions for garnering knowledge in ethnography:
1) Learning the language is merely a tool – language is a means to extract information from the other society’s members, rather than being a “communicative praxis” that can create knowledge through dialogue (106). The visual structure of societies preexists the anthropologist’s arrival, and so can be observed with the aid of the society’s language.
2) Visualism – “a cultural, ideological bias towards vision as the ‘noblest sense’ and toward geometry qua graphic-spatial conceptualization as the most ‘exact’ way of communicating knowledge.” (106) The ability to visualize aspects of another culture, such as their towns, their familial and social organization, is seen as the most accurate way to represent and understand that culture. Even when in certain anthropological theories cultures are seen as texts rather than pictures, the symbols of a culture’s text are arranged according to a spatial model, as a “cognitive map” that allows a culture to be approached as a structure of meaning-making devices.
3) These techniques are meant to expedite ethnographic practice, to make ethnography easier and faster for the researcher, and thus are meant to protect the researcher’s time for observation – the ethnographer chooses to observe certain aspects of the society at the expense of others, those considered to be irrelevant side-experiences:
How does method deal with the hours of waiting, with maladroitness and gaffes due to confusion and bad timing? Where does it put the frustrations caused by diffidence and intransigence, where the joys of purposeless chatter and conviviality? Often all this is written off as the ‘human side’ of ours scientific activity. Method is expected to yield objective knowledge by filtering out experiential ‘noise’ thought to impinge on the quality of information. (108)
By treating non-visual aspects of cultures and aspects not amenable to mapping as mere “noise,” anthropological method prevents ethnographers from considering the actual engagements in their experiential specificity to be real knowledge, though for Fabian it is precisely those experiences, the little details that give one familiarity with a society or not, which can provide deep insight regarding a society.
For Fabian, these assumptions demonstrate anthropology’s dependence on a conception of knowledge derived from Greco-Roman rhetoric. A rhetor remembered different sections of a speech by associating key words with arbitrary images, known as “places” (topoi, thus the English topics) of memory (110). Throughout a speech a rhetor moved between places of memory, thus spatializing his consciousness to “present to himself the temporal flux of live speech as a spatial topography of points and arguments.” (111)Thus time was first understood as the movement between spaces, and eventually through the universe itself. Memory was visualized as a house that had a certain architecture: rhetors were taught to construct edifices of memory that during the Renaissance were modeled on astrological models of the cosmos, such that the space of memory became cosmological. Knowledge therefore began to be viewed not only as fitting within a cosmological (later to become a taxonomical) conceptual space, but also as esoteric, the dominion of only a few highly trained experts in rhetoric.
Anthropology not only uses a version of this cosmologically spatialized understanding of knowledge, but also is grounded upon a view of teaching propounded by Petrus Ramus. Abandoning the Socratic model of teaching, engaging in a dialogue to create new conclusions through discussion, Ramist pedagogy aimed to instill facts into students by describing them in terms of spatial constructs: “Letter printing made possible mass reproduction […] which in turn favored mass circulation of what Ramus considered his major contribution to ‘method’: his ambitious renditions of teaching matter (poems, philosophical texts, biographies, and other) in the form of diagrams based on a dichotomization of its contents,” which for Fabian were the forerunners of anthropological diagrams of social and familial structures (115-116). Knowledge was not only conceived as but now concretely presented as observation of things, and so it was only a small step to include other societies and cultures among the list of objects to be observed.
Fabian, following Walter Ong, argues that this presentation of knowledge is antipersonalist, treating people as objects whose actions fit into categories that can be defined and observed, “to the detriment of ‘understanding’ the motives, values, and beliefs of their subjects as persons.” (118) This view of knowledge is thus antithetical to a dialogical form of knowledge based on intersubjective time. Other cultures were seen as separate objects to be observed by anthropologists, setting up distance between the anthropologist’s culture and the Other’s culture, such that “exotic otherness may be not so much the result as the prerequisite of anthropological inquiry.” (121) When visualism was combined with the evolutionary schemas of societal development described in chapter 1, anthropology became tied to political projects of exotification of others and thus became implicated in colonialism, not merely through moral failings, but through its very epistemology.
Fabian now moves into a critique of “symbolic anthropology” via a reading of Hegel’s Aesthetics as an example of how visualism infuses anthropological knowledge (we’re all very thankful for his generosity and lucidity, I’m sure…). Fabian makes the argument, as a “point for debate,” that understanding cultures in terms of their operative symbols tends to deny their coevalness. Although many symbolist anthropologists such as Clifford Geertz see the textual articulation of cultures in terms of symbols an alternative to the rigid visual presentation of culture of structuralism, “system, order, models, blueprints, and similar terms which regularly occur in these writings signal a visualist epistemology.” (124) That symbolic anthropology tries to avoid the taxonomic architecture of structuralism, they still regard other cultures as objects of observation. The main point of all this is that symbolic anthropology still views culture as an object that can be observed, rather than as something produced through constant social interaction and praxis, aka intersubjective time.
If you’re interested, though, Hegel in his Aesthetics articulates a theory of symbols arguing that they belong (a) to the Orient and (b) to the origin of art, creating both spatial and temporal distance between modern, “Romantic” art and pre-historical, “Oriental” art. Symbols for Hegel are inherently ambiguous, suggesting “by its external appearance that which it makes appear, not in its concrete and unique existence, however, but by expressing ‘a general quality of its meaning.’ (Hegel, quoted in Fabian, 127) Thus, any number of symbols can symbolize one image as their content, and vice versa. Thus symbolic art creates the aesthetic experience of uneasiness and enigma, outside of rational explanation. Romantic art, taking Classical (Greek) art’s unity between external form (mathematically perfect bodies, often without arms) and Spirit, added the internal dimension of provided by Christianity, creating a unity between the external and internal substance of humanity and a form of representation, such that art “now knows only one God, one Spirit, one absolute autonomy. Art is constituted in free unity as its own absolute knowledge and will, it no longer is divided into specific traits and functions who only connection was the force of some dark necessity.” (Hegel, quoted in Fabian, 130). For Hegel, artistic expression is “appropriate to the spirit of a people,” such that Oriental symbolism is Other to, both spatially and temporally distinct from, and logically contradictory to, modern culture, possessing a logical unity of form and content in art, rather than an arbitrary and ambiguous one.
Understanding another culture, such as that of the “Orient,” in terms of symbols treats it as unchanging and necessarily separate from our own. Each culture has its own symbols, organized in a coherent architecture that describes how individual members make meaning out of the world in terms given to it from their society. An image is thereby created of “timeless” cultures whose symbol-systems exist as unchanging entities, organizing the culture across generations (135). This form of anthropology again treats other cultures as objects for observation, rather than recognizing that meaning is also created out of communicative practice in intersubjective time. Creating an architecture of symbols that articulate a system of meaning “bears more than a superficial resemblance to the ‘art of memory.’ […] it avoids calling the Knower and the Known into the same temporal arena. […] This is inevitable as long as anthropology remains fixed on symbolic mediations whose importance no one denies but which, after all, should be the field of encounter with the Other in dialectical terms of confrontation, challenge, and contradiction, not the protective shield which cultures hold up against each other.” (136) Beginning to articulate an alternative, Fabian argues that culture must not be seen as an object of contemplation, but as something that is continually produced and reproduced through social practices created through communication, and thus existing in, you guessed it, intersubjective time.
Conclusion/Chapter 5: “Conclusions”
For Fabian, the redress of anthropology’s denial of coevalness to other cultures, existing throughout different forms of anthropological discourse and theories, must begin by examining the production of ethnographic knowledge. Ethnography must be seen as one communicative practice among others, and Fabian argues that “what must be developed are the elements of a processual and materialist theory apt to counteract the hegemony of taxonomic and representational [ie. visualist] approaches which we identified as the principal sources of anthropology’s allochronic orientation.” (156) Fabian does not construct a theory of exactly what this would look like, but does offer suggestions:
1) “Recuperate the idea of totality” – Fabian regards it as essential that we must grasp a culture “as a whole, an organism, a configuration, a system.” (156) Instead of treating it as an object of contemplation, however, we must understand that culture is the totality of what is produced through communicative and social practices, not as a set of rules that are applied, consciously or not. Fabian makes recourse to Marx to argue that production of a society is also at the same time its reproduction. As a society produces things (material or cultural) it does so with the purpose of continuing itself through generations, and so each act of production in fact presupposes social reproduction. Understanding society in terms of conceptual rules or structures is not necessary, since the regularities that give cultures specificity can be seen within and between different practices. By studying the processes and practices whereby societies produce their material and cultural goods an anthropologist can see how intersubjective time is involved in each act of cultural creation, and in addition refrain from seeing culture as a pre-existing object that can be observed outside of those practices. To study cultural or social production, an ethnographer must enter into those practices, as culture exists nowhere else.
2) Utilize a materialist conception of knowledge in anthropology – Knowledge must be seen, again following Marx, as “sensuous-human activity [conceived as] praxis, subjectively.” (Marx, quoted in Fabian, 159) Marx wishes to overcome the “contemplative stance” speculative philosophy takes on knowledge, separating observer from object, reality and representation, which underlie the visualist view of knowledge he criticized last chapter. Consciousness is always embodied and so is limited by sensuous experience, as well as language:
the only way to think of consciousness without separating it from the organism or banning it to some kind of forum internum is to insist on its sensuous nature; and one way to conceive of that sensuous nature (above the level of motor activities) is to tie consciousness as an activity to the production of meaningful sound. Inasmuch as the production of meaningful sound involves the labor of transforming, shaping matter, it may still be possible to distinguish form and content, but the relationship between the two will then be constitutive of consciousness. (161)
Humans do not have thoughts that preexist communication, that exist in an ideal world of pure ideas that can be understood as rules or unconscious structures that get translated into language. Rather, human consciousness is produced through communication and social life. It is within contexts of communicative practice that thought develop, such that hearing, not sight, is the most important sense for knowledge: “Not solitary perception but social communication is the starting point for a materialist anthropology, provided that we keep in mind that man does not ‘need’ language as a means of communication, or by extension, society as a means of survival. Man is communication and society. (162)
3) Recognize that social and communicative practices are temporal, existing in present, intersubjective time – communicative practices take place in time between individuals who all share that time with each other. The ethnographer must enter into this time in order to study practices, thus being forced to recognize the coevalness of the other culture. The atemporal spatialization of consciousness seen in taxonomy is thereby impossible as eternal rules of social interaction simply do not exist outside of the shared time of practice. The spatialization of consciousness involved in the arts of memory is thereby circumvented, making visualism also impossible.
This is how reading this book made me feel: