Translated by Robert Hurley

in collaboration with Abe Stein

Society Against the State

Essays in Political Anthropology

P ierre Clastres

ZONE

BOOKS

1989

NEW

YORK

i987 Urzone, Inc.

ZONE BOOKS

611 Broadway Suite 838

New York, NY 10011

Originally published as

La Societe contre /'etot

( 1974 Editions de Ivlinuit
This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in
part, in any lorm (beyond that copying permitted
by Sections 107 and IOH of the U,S, Copyright
l.aw and except by reviewers I'lr the public press),
without written permission from the publishers,
Printed in the United SLlles of :\Illcrica
Distributed by The ,\111 Press,
Cambridge, I\\assachusl'tts, and London, England
l.ibrar y of Congress Catalog em l "lumber: H7-,o396
ISBN

0-9422';)9-00-0

ISBN

0-942299-01-,;) (pbk.)

Contents

Copernicus and the Savages

Exchonge and Power: Philosophy of the Indian Chieftainship

Independence and Exogamy

49

Elements of Amerindian Demography

The Bow and the Basket

1 01

What Makes Indians Laugh

The Duv to Speak

129

151

Prophets in the jungle

157

Of the One Without the ,'VIany

Of Ii)fture in Primitive Societies
Society Against the State

189

169

177

77

27

Copernicus and the Savages

Someone said to Socrates that a

certain man had grown no better in
his travels. "] should think
not," he said. "He took himself
alona with him."
Montaigne

Can seri ous questions regardi ng power be asked ? A fragment o f

Beyond Good and Evil begins: " Inasmuch a s i n all ages, as l o ng as

mankind has existed , there have also been h uman herds (clans,
communities, tribes, peoples, states, churches), and always a great
number who obey i n comparison w i th the s ma ll number w h o
command - in view, therefore, of t h e fact that obedience h a s been
most practiced and fos tered among manki n d h i therto, one may
reasonabl y suppose that the need for it is now innate in everyo n e ,
as a kind offormal conscience which gives the command : 'Thou shalt
unconditionally do something, unconditionally refrain from some
thing'; in short, 'Thou Shalt .' " Unconcerned as h e o ften is abo u t
t h e true and false i n h i s sarcasm , Nietzsche i n h i s way, nonethe
less, i s o l ates and acc u rate l y d e fi nes a fi e l d of refle c t i o n o n c e
7

SOCIE T Y

A G AI N S T

T H E STATE

consigned t o speculative thought alone, but which for roughly

two d ecades has been entrusted to truly scientiflc researc h .
A t issue i s the space o f t h e political, at whose center power poses
its q u estions : n e w themes - new i n social anthro p o l ogy - o f a
growi ng number o f studies. That ethnology so belatedly deve l
oped an interest i n the poli tical dimension of archaic societies - its
preferential object, after all - i s , as I shall try to show, something
not alien to the very prohlematic of power. I t is, rather, evidence
of a spontaneous m o d e , i m manent to our culture and therefore
very traditi onal , o f understanding the political rel ations that prolif
crate in other s oc i e t i e s . But the lag i s being compensated for, the
defi c i e n c i es made good. There are novv enough texts and descrip
tions so that one may s peak o f a political anthropol ogy , m easure
its fi n d i ngs, and reflect o n the nature of power, its sourc e , and the
transformations history forces upon i t , depending on the ty pes of
soc i e ty in which i t is e x e rcised .
I t is an ambitious projec t , b u t also a necessary task , one accom
p l ished i n J. W. Lapierre's substantial work , Essai sur lc Iondcment

du pouvoir politiquc. 1 I t i s an und ertaking al l the more worthy of

i n terest since this book assemhles and appl ies a hody o f i n forma
tion concern i ng not j u s t human soc i e t i e s b u t the social ani mal
spec i e s as we l l; moreover, i ts au thor i s a phil osopher whose m i nd
i s brought t o b e a r on the data provided by the modern d i s c i p l i nes
of "an imal soc i o l ogy" and ethnology .
I t is then the question o f pol i t i ca l power and , CJu i te j u s t illab ly ,
J. W. La p i e rre asks fi rst whether this hu man fact corresponds to
a ny v i ta l n e c e s s i ty; w h e t h e r it u n fo l d s fro m b i o l og i c a l roo t s;
whether - i n other word s - power has its b i rthplace and ra i son
d ' e tre in nature and not in c u l ture . At the end of a pa t i e nt and
I . J . \\' . l.apicITc.

i:ssai W I" /(' jondcmcl1t (Iu poul'oir 1)(1/11 hiLle,

cn-PrOVCllce, 1968.

PubliC<lt ion de la t .leul tl' d' A i \-

COPER('I

uS AND 1 HE SAVAGES

informed discussion of the latest work in animal biology - a discus

sion not at all academic, although predictable in its outcome - the
answer is clear: "The critical examination of accluired knm,'Jedge
regarding social phenomena among animals, and in particular
regarding their processes ofselkegulation, has hO\\l1 us the absence
of any fClrm, eyen embryonic, of political power ..." (p. 2 1 2 ). By
clearing this terrain, the author has secured his inquiry against the
risk of exhausting itselfin that direction. Ill' can then turn to the
sciences of culture ancl history in order to examine the "archaic"
fim11s of political pO\\Tr in human societies. The thoughts that
t<)llow \vere especially prompted by a reading of those pages devoted
to power among the Sayagcs.
The range of societies considered is impressin', \\ide enough
to dispel any doubts the exacting reader might have as to the exhaus
tive nature of the sampling. since the analy sis is basecl on exam
ples taken from Africa. the three Americas. the South Sea Islands,
Siberia, and so on. In short, given its geographical and ty pological
,ariety, an all but complete anthology of eyer)' difference the "primi
tin" \\orld might olkr in comparison with the non-archaic horizon;
the latter serving as the background against which looms the shape
of political power in our culture.
It might easily be thought that all these dozens of societies
have in common is the archaism ascribed tu them. But this is a
negative definitiun. as Lapierre points out, established by the
absence of \\Titing and the so-called subsistence economy.Thcre
f(lre, archaic societies can differ profoundly among themseln's.
Ilere we are lar removed h'om the dreary repetition that \\ould
paint all Savages gray.
Thus. a minimum of orcler must be introduced into this multi
plicity to allow I()r comparison among the units that compose it.
This is why Lapier! c, more or less accepting the classic chssifica
tions proposed by :\nglo-Saxon anthropology, conceives lIve major

'-)

SOC:ETY AGAI-JST T HE ST!TE

ty pes: "starting b"om archaic societies in which political pcmer is

most developed so as to arrive finally at those which exhibit ...
almost no political power, or none in the strict sense of the term"
(p. 2 2 9). Primitive cui tures, thereftxe, are arranged in a ty pology
based on the greater or lesser "quantity " of political power each
of them aHtJrds to observation, this quantity of power being capable
of approaching zero: " . . . some human groups, giwn living condi
tions enabling them to subsist in small 'closed '>ocietics,' ha\c
managed to do without political pO\\er" (p. 52 5).
1 et

LIS

reHect on the principle itselfofthis classification. \\'hat

is its criterion? Ilow cloes one define the thing, present in greater,
or lesser quantity, that makes it possihle to assign

given place to

a given society ? In other \HJrds, what is meant, if only provision

allY, lw political power? The (Iuestion is undeniably important,
since the interval presumed to separate societies \\i' tllOut power
h"om those with it ought simultancously to disclosc the essel1l'l'
of power and its basis. Now, in f()llowing Lapierre\ anal)"cs, their
thoroughness not with st a ndin g, one dnes not han' tht' im prc ssion
of heing witness to a break, a discontinuity, a rad ical leap that,
\Hc nching the human groups h"om their pre-political stagnation,
\\(}uld transl()rm them into a civil societ\'.

Dot'S this mcan that

het\\TCn societies \\'ith a + sinn

the tranand those \\'ith a - sinn

sition is gradual, continuous, and Cjuantitatin' in nalllrc? VVere such

thc casc, thc n r y possibil it y ofclassitying societies \\ould vanish.
'

Itl!" het\\TCn the t\\'O extremes - societies \\ ith a statc and socie
ties without power - therc would appear an infinity of interlllc
diate degrees, conceivably turning each p,1rticular socicty into a
single

CI,lSS of thc system. Moreover, a similar l;ltc is in store liH

l'\er\ taxonomic schellle of this kind as knowledge about ,1rch,lic

,()cieties imprmes and their difkrelln's comc increasingly to light.
CO!l';eCjuently, \\he ther \\T .l'oSurne di'icontinuity bet weell 1l()1l
power and power, or continuity, it appear, that no cla'>Sification

10

C O P E R N I C U S

A N D

T H E

S A VA G E S

of empirical societies can enlighten us either on the nature of power

or the c i rcumstances of i ts advent , so that the ri d d l e remains i n all
i ts mystery.
" Power is real ized with i n a typical social relati o n s h i p : com
mand-obedience ( p . 44)." From which i t directly fo l l ows that
societies where this essential relationship is not observed are soci
eties w i thout power. I will return to this idea. Worth noting fi rst
is the traditionalism o f a concept that quite fai th fu l l y ex presses
the spiri t of ethnological inquiry: namely, the unquestioned convic
tion that political power is manifested within a relation that u l ti
mately comes down to coercion. On this score the kinship is closer
than seems apparent between N ietzsche, Max Weber ( state power
as the m onopoly of the legiti mate use of violenc e ) , and contem
porary ethnology. And the difTerence in their respective languages
means less than their common point of d eparture : the tru th and
real ity of power consists of violence; power cannot be conceptu
alized apart from its predicate: violence. Perhaps that is how things
really are, in which case ethnology should not b e blamed f()r uncrit
ically accepting what the \Vest has al ways beli eved . B u t t h e point
is that it i s necessary to ascertain and verify on the terrain involved
that of archaic societies - whether, when there is nei ther coer
cion nor violence, i t is impossible to speak of power.
What are the facts about the I nd ians of America? I t is known
that, with the exception of the H ighland c u l tures of Mex ico ,
Central America, and the Andes , all the Indian societies are archaic :
they are ignorant of wri ting a n d they l i ve , eco n o m i cally speaking,
on a subsistence leve l . Further, all , or almost all, are headed by
leaders , chiefs , and - this decisive feature merits attention - none
of these caci(jues possesses any "power." One is confro n ted , then,
by a vast constellation of societi es in which the hold ers o f \\' hat
elsewhere would be called power are actuall y without power; where
the p o l i tical is determined as a domain beyon d co e rc i o n and
11

OCiE T Y

J\GAINSI

THE

E.

violence, beyond hierarchical 5ubordination; Ivhere, in a word,

no relationship ofcommand-obedience is in [(>nT. This is the major
difFerence of the Indian world, making it possible to speak of the
.-\merican tribes as a homogeneous universe despite the extreme
diversity of the cultures moving within it. Thus, according to
I apierre's criterion, the New World in its virtual entirety would
fall into the pre-political sector, that is, into the last group of his
typology which contains those societies where "political power
approaches zero."
Nothing of the sort is true, hO\\c\LT, since the classification in
Cjuestion is punctuated with American examples. Indian societies
are included in all the types, and tt:w among them happen to belong
to the last type which normally ought to contain them all. This
involves some misunderstanding since one has a choice of two
things: either chieftainships with power arc f(lUnd in some socie
ties, i.e., chiefs who on giving an order see it executed, or it
does not exist. 0\1 direct field experience, the monographs oj
researchers, and the oldest chronicles leal\.' no room f(JI' doubt on
this score: if there is something complete! y .11 ien to an Indian, it
is the idea of giling an order or having to obey, except under Icr)
special circumstances such as prevail during a martial expedition.
\Vhy do the Iroquois appear in the first category, along'>ic\c the
African kingships? Can the Creat Council of the League of the
Iroquois be likened to "a state that is still rudimentary but already
constituted"? For if "the political concerns the functioning of
the entire '>(Kiety" (p. 41), and if "exercising a pOWl'!" is to decide liJr
lhe

II

"

hole ",roup

(p. 44), then it cannot be said that the 50 sachems

d lO composed the Iroquois Creat Council constituted a state.

The league was not a total society but a political alliance of five
total societies, the five Iroquois tribes. The British typologies of
African societies arc perhaps relevant to the black continent, but
they cannot servc as a rnodel filr Amcrica hecause. let it he repeated,

12

C O P E R N I C US

A N D

1H E

S A VA G E S

there i s no essential d i fference between the I roquois sachem and

the leader o f the smallest nomad ban d . And i t should be pointed
out that while the J roquois confed eration rightly arouses the i nterest
of special i st s , there were attempts elsewhere , l e s s noteworthy
because they were sporadic, at f()rmi ng tribal l eagues by the Tupi
Guarani of Brazil and Paraguay, among others .
The above remarks are intended to problematize the trad i tional
form in which the problematic of power is posed . I t is not evident
to me that coercion and subordination consti tute the essence of
political power at all times and in all places. Consequently, an alter
native presents i tself: either the classic concept of power is adequate
to the reality it contemplates, in which case it must account for
non-power wherever i t is located ; or it is inad equate and must be
di scard ed or transformed . However, it is perti nent at the ou tset to
probe the mental atti tude that allows such a concept to d evelop.
And for thi s purpose the vocabulary of ethnology itself is capable
of putti ng us on the right track .
First of all, let us examine the criteria that define archai s m : the
absence of writi ng and subsi stence economy. Nothing need be sai d
about the first, since it involves an admi tted fact: ei ther a society
is fami l i ar w i th wri ting or it i s not. On the other han d , the rele
vance o f the second criterion appears less certain . Actuall y, what
docs "subsi stence" mean? It means living i n a permanently fragile
equi librium between alimentary needs and the means for sati s
fyi ng them. A society with a subsistence economy, then , is one
that barely manages to feed its members and thus finds i t self at
the mercy of the slightest natural acci dent ( d rought, flood , etc . ) ;
a d ecline in i t s resources \\oul d automatically make i t impossible
to feed everyone. In other word s, archaic societies d o not l i ve,
they survive; their exi stence i s an endless struggle against starva
tion , for they are incapable ofproducing a surplus because of techno
logi cal and - beyond that - cultural deficiency. Nothing i s more

SO C I E 1 Y

A G A I ['\.;ST

THE

ST A T E

persistent than this view of primitive society, and at the same time
nothing is more mistaken. If it has become possible recently to
speak of groups of paleolithic hunters and gatherers as "the first
affluent societies,"2 how will "neolithic"l agriculturalists be
described? This is not the place to dwell on a question of crucial
importance for ethnology. Let it be remarked mercly that a good
many of those archaic societies "with a subsistence economy," in
South America, lilr example, produced a quantity of surp lus food
often cqui\o!cnt to the amount required for the annual consump
tion of the community: a production capable, therefore, of satis

I)'ing its needs twice over, or capable offeeding a population twice

its size. Obviously that docs not mean that archaic societies arc
not archaic; the aim is simply to puncture the "scientific" conceit
of the concept of the subsistence economy, a concept that reHects
the attitudes and habits of\Vestern observers with regard to primi
tive societies more than the economic reality on which those
cultures are based. In any case, it is not because they had a subsis
tence econom\' that archaic societies "have survived in a state of
extreme underdevelopment up to the present time" (p. 225 ) . In
bct, it strikes me that, using this standard, the illiterate and under
nourished European proletariat of the nineteenth century would
be more aptly descrihed as archaic. In reality, the notion of the
subsistence economy belongs to the ideological purview of the
modern \Vest. and not at all to the conceptual store of a science.
And it is paradoxical to sec ethnology become the victim of such
a crude my stification, something especially dangerous inasmuch
as ethnology has had a part in orienting the strategy of the indus
trialized nations vis-ii-vis the so-called underdeveloped world.

196). PI" 641-W.

3.

Regarding the problem'> rai'led b c1 definition

ut tht' ncolithic,

'>l'C I.bt chapter.

C O P E R N I C US A N D

THE

SA VA G E S

The obj ection w i l l be rai sed that everyth i ng w h i c h has been

said really has l i tt l e b earing on the problem of p o l i ti cal power.
On the contrary : the same outlook that gives rise to talk of primi
tive peoples as being " men l ivi ng with d i fficulty i n a subsi stence
economy, in a state of technical underdevelopment" ( p . 319) also
determines the meaning and the tone of the fami l i ar d i scourse
regarding power and political l i fe . Familiar i n that the encounter
between the Wes t and the Savages has always been an occasion for
repeating the same d i scourse c onc e r ni ng t h e m . Wi t n e s s , fo r
ex ample , how the first European explorers of Braz i l d escribed the
Tup inamba Indians: "People w i thout god , l aw, and k i ng ." Their

mburu vicha, or c h i e fs , actual l y h a d no " p ower." W h at c o u l d b e

stranger, for people c o m i ng o u t of societies i n w h i c h authority
culminated in the absolute monarchies of France, Portugal , or Spain?
They were confronted by barbarians who did not l i ve in c i v i lized
society. I n contrast, their anxiety and i rritation at fi n d i ng them
selves in the presence of the abnormal d isappeared i n Montezuma's
Mexico or i n the Peru of the I ncas. There the conquistadors could
breathe the same o l d a i r, a most stimulating atmosphere for them
of hi erarc h i e s , co erc i o n - i n a word , of gen u i n e p ower. Now a
remarkable continuity can b e observed between that u ngraci o u s ,
artless, a n d o n e might say savage d iscourse , a n d that o f present-day
scholars and researchers . The judgment is the same though couched
i n more delicate term s , and one finds under Lapierre's signature a
number of expressions consistent with the most common percep
tion of political power in primi tive societi e s . Take the fol l ow i ng
example: "Do not the Trobriander or Ticopian 'chiefs' hold a social
authority and an economic power that is very developed, as opposed
to a truly political power that is quite embryonic? ( p . 284 ) ." Or:
"No Nilotic people has been able to rise to the level o f the central
ized organizations of the great Bantu kingdoms ( p . 365 ) ." And
also: " Lobi society has been unable to create a p o l i tical o rganization

OCI

E T Y

A G A I N ST

THE

STAT E

( p . 435, note 1 34)."4 What i s i mpl i ed by this kind o f vocabulary

in which the words "embryonic," "nascent , " "poorl y devel oped"
frequently appear? The obj ect is not to force a quarrel w i th an
author, for I am well aware that this is the very language o f anthro
pology. What is wanted i s access to what might be called the arche
ology of this language and the knowledge that professes to emerge
by means of i t . The question being rai sed i s : what e x actly i s this
language saying and what is the l ocus from which i t says the thi ngs
it is sayi ng?
\Ve have seen that the i d ea of a subsi stence economy pu rports
to be a factual appraisal , but it i nvolves a value judgment about
the societies t o which the concept is appl i ed . Thus. the evalua
t i on i m m e d i ately destroys the obj ecti v i ty that i s i t s sole clai m.
The same prej udice - tell' finally i t i s that - perverts and dooms
the attempt to eval uate pol i tical power i n these soci e t i e s . That i s ,
t h e model t o w h i c h poli tical power i s referred and the uni t by
which it i s measured are consti tuted in advance by the idea \Vestern
c i v i l i zation has shaped and d eveloped . From i ts beg i n n i ngs our
cul ture has concei ved of pol itical power in terms of hie rarchi zed
and authori tarian relati ons of com mand and obed ience. Every real
or possi ble form of power i s consequentl y red uci ble to this privi
leged re lation w h i c h a pri ori e x presses t h e essence o f power. If
the red uction i s no t poss i b l e i t i s because one is on t h i s s i d e of the
pol i tical , so that the absence of any command -obed ience relation
ship i pso L1CtO entai ls the absence of pol itical power. I knee , there
e x ist not only soc i e t i es wi thout a state , but also societies w i t hout
power. The still robust adversary was recogn i.ed long ago , the
obstacle constantly hlm'k i ng anthropological researc h : t h e ethno
centri sm that med i ates all attention d i rected to d i fli:rences in order
to reduce them to i d e n t ity and fi nal ly to suppress the m . There
4 . Clast,.",", l'l11phasis.

C OP E RN I C U S A N D

THE

SA VA G E S

e x i sts a kind of ethnological ritual that consists i n e x p o s i ng the

ri sks of this attitude. The intention is laudab le , but i t d o c s not
always p revent ethnologists from succumbing more o r less i nad
vertent l y t o this attitude i n turn , with more or less untro u b l ed
minds. It is true, as Lapierre has j ustifiably emphasized , that ethno
centrism is the most widely shared thing in the world . Every culture
i s , one m ight say, by d efinition ethnocentric i n its narcissistic rel a
ti onshi p with itself. However, a considerable d i fference separates
Western ethnocentrism from its "primitive" counterpart. The savage
bel ong ing to some I ndian o r Australian tribe deems h i s c u l ture
superi o r to all others without keling obliged to d e l i ve r a scien
tific d i scourse about them. Ethnology, on the other hand , wants
to situate itself d i rectly within the real m o f universal ity without
.

real izing that in many respects i t remains firmly entrenched in i t s

particularity, and that its pseudo-sc ienti fic discourse quic k ly d ete
riorates in to genuine ideology. ( Some assertions to the eHect that
only 'vVestern civilization is able to produce ethnologists are thereby
reduced to the i r tru e signihcance . ) I t i s n o t a scientifi c proposi
tion to determine that some cultures lack political pO\ver because
they show nothi ng similar to what is found in o u r c u l t u re. I t i s
i nstead the sign o f a certain conceptual poverty.
Ethnocentrism i s not, therefcxe, a negligible hindrance to ref1ec
tion, and the importance of i ts i mplications is greater than one
might think. It cannot perm i t d inerences to rema i n , e a c h one for
itself i n its neutrali ty, but insists on comprehending them as d i ffer
ences measured in terms of what i s most fam i l iar, power as i t i s
e x perienced and conceived of i n the c u l ture o f the \Vest . Ethno
centrism's old accomplice, evolutionism, is not far on-. At this leve l ,
t h e a p proach i s t w ofc)l d : fi r st m a k e an i n ve n t o ry o f s o c i e t i e s
accord i ng to the greater or lesser proximity their type o f power
has to ours; then assert explicitly ( as in the pas t ) or implicitly ( as
at prese n t ) a continuitJ' between these various f()rms o f power.
17

S O C IET Y

A GA I N S T

THE S T A T E

Because anthropology, following Lowie's example, has rejected

the tenets of i\lorgan and Fngels as simplistic, it is no longer able
(at least where the political question is at issue) to express itself
in sociological terms. But since, on the other hand, the tempta
tion to continue thinking along the same lines is too strong,

bio!oUieo!

metaphors are invoked. \Vhence the vocabulary noted above:

embryonic, nascent, poorly developed, etc. Scarcely a half-century
ago the perfect model all cultures tried to achieve through the
historical process was the Western adult male - educated and of
sound mind (perhaps a Ph.D. in the physical sciences). Such a thing
is still imagined no doubt, but it is no longer said. Yet, if the language
has changed, the discourse has not. For what is an embryonic power,
if not that which could and should

develop to the adult

state? And

what is this adult state who">e embryonic beginnings are discO\'

ered here and there? I t is none other than the type of power to
which the ethnologist is accustomed - that belonging to the culture
which produces ethnologists, the West. And why are those cultural
fetuses always destined to perish? How does it happen that the
societies which conceive them abort so frequently? Obviously,
this congenital frailty is attributable to their archaism, their under
development, to the fact that they are not the West. Archaic soci
eties would thus be sociological axolotls, incapable of rcaching
the normal adult state without external aid.
The biologism of this mode of expression is clearly no more
than thc furtive mask hiding the ancient Westcrn conviction - a
conviction indeed otten shared by ethnology, or at least by mall)
of its practitioners - that history is a one-way street, that socie
ties without power arc the image of what we have ceased to be,
and that f()r them our culture is the image of what they have to
become. And not only is our system of power considered the best,
the archaic societies are even made party to a similar persuasion.
For to declare that "no Nilotic people has been able to rise to the
18

C O P ERN I C U S

A N D

T H E

S A VA G E S

centralized l evel o f the political organizations o f the great Bantu

k i ngd o m s , " o r that "Lobi society has been unable to create a
political organization" i s to assert , in a sense, that these peoples
have u ndertaken to provide themselves with a true poli tical power.
W hat reason could there be for saying that the Sioux I n d ians have
fai l ed to achieve something attained by the Aztec s , or that the
Bororo have been incapable of raising themselves to the poli tical
l evel of the I ncas ? The archeol ogy of anthropological language
would l ead us to uncover a secret kinship between i d e o l ogy and
ethnology. And w ithout the need for much d i gging , since the
ground i s finall y rather thi n ; as a matter of fac t , if care i s not taken
ethnology is destined to splash about in the same q uagmire as soci
ology and psychology.
I s a poli tical anthropology possible? That i s doubtfu l when one
considers the still growing stream of l i terature devoted t o the
problem of power. What is especiall y striking in this literature i s
t h e gradual dissolution of the political . Fai l i ng to fi n d i t where
they e xpecte d , t h e authors believe they have l ocated it at every
level of archaic societies, with the result that everything fall s within
the bounds of the political . All the sub-groups and units ( kinship
groups , age groups, production units, and s o forth ) that make u p a
society are haphazardl y endowed with a political significance which
eventually covers the whole social sphere and consequently loses
its specific character. For i f political reality i s found everywhere ,
it i s found nowhere. Which makes one wonder, for that matter,
whether they are trying to say precisely that, i . e . , archaic societies
are not authentic societies because they are not political socie
ties. In short, the ethnographer wou l d b e j ustified i n proclaiming
that political power i s i nconceivable i n these societi e s , since h e
annihi l ates i t i n t h e very act of grasping i t . Nothing , h owever,
precludes the assumption that ethnology only raises prob l e m s i t
can sol ve . S o i t i s n ecessary t o ask : what conditions m u st obtain
19

SO C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

THE

ST A T E

before political power becomes conceivable? I f anthropology is

going nowhere, the reason i s because i t has come to a dead end
and need s , therefore, to change course. The road on which it has
gone astray is the easiest, the one that can be followed blindly;
the one mapped out by our own cultural world ; not insofar as it
unfolds within th e universal , b ut rather insofar as i t shows itself to
be j u st as l i m i te d as any o t h e r. The necessary c o n d i t i o n is to
abandon - ascetically, as it were - the exotic conce ption of the
archaic worl d , a conception which , in the last analysis, overwhelm
ingly charac teri z e s a l l egedly sci enti fi c d i scourse regardi ng that
worl d . Thi s i mplies the decision to take serious{v, at last, the men
and women who l i ve i n primi tive societies, fro m every v iewpoint
and in all their d i mensions: the poli tical dimension included , even
and especial l y when the l atter is ex perienced in archaic societies
as the negatio n of its opposite number i n the Western worl d . I t is
i m perative to accept the idea that negation docs not signify noth
ingness; that when the m i rror does not re flect our own l ikeness, it
d ocs not prove there is nothing to perceive. More simply: j ust as our
c u l tur e fi nal l y recognized that primi tive man is not a c h i l d but,
individual ly, an adult, in the same manner it w i l l mark a slight pro
gress when it comes to acknowl edge his col l ective matur i ty as well.
There fiJre , peo ples w i t h o u t a w riting system are no l ess ad u l t
than l iterate societies. T heir hi story h a s t h e same d e p t h a s our s
and , short o f rac i s m , t h e re is no reason to judge them incapable of
re fl ect ing on their e x perience and of d i scoveri ng the appropriate
solu tions to t h e i r pro b l e m s . I ndeed that is why it w i l l not do to
state that in those societies in which the com mand-obed ience rela
tion is unknown ( that i s , in societies devo id of po litical power ),
the l i lt, o f t h e grou p is m a i ntained t h rough immediate social control,
adding at once that t hi s control is apolitical. What exactly is meant
by such a state ment? What is the po l i tical referent that makes it
possi ble, by contrast, to speak of the apol i tical ? But, to be precise,
20

C O P E R N I C U S A N D

T H E

S A V A GES

there i s nothing pol itical since we are dealing with societies without
power: how the n c a n one speak of thc apolitical ? Either the political
is present, eyen in those societies, or the e xpression imme diate
social control i s self-contrad ictory and i n any case tautological . I n
fact, what do we l earn from i t concerning the soc i e t i e s to w h i c h
i t i s applied? And how exacting i s Lowie's e x planation, for instance,
accord i ng to which, i n societies without power, there e x i sts " a n
unotTic i al power of public opinion"? I t was remarked that i f every
thing i s political , then noth i ng i s: but i f somewhere there e xists
something that can b e called apol i tical , this means that e l s ewhere
there i s something political ! Logically speaking, a n apoliti cal society
would no longer have a place within the sphere o f c u l ture , but
\Hmld rightly be placed among animal societies governed by natural
rclations of domination and submi ssion .
Here we have perhaps the main obstacl e f()r classical thought
regardi ng power: i t i s impossible to th i nk the apoli tical w i thout
the p o l i tical , immediate social control without the concept o f
m e d i a t i o n - in a word , socier without pOller. I lopefu l l)" i t has been
shown that the epistemological obstac l e that "pol i t i c o l ogy" has
thus far been unab l e to overcome l i es w i th i n the cultura l ethno
centri s m of Western thought, i tself l i nked to an e xotic view o f
non-\Vestern soci e t i e s . I f ethnographers persist i n refl ecting o n
power, starting from the assurance that its true form has been real
ized i n o u r c u l ture, and i f they continue to make this form the
measure ofall the others, even of their telos, then d i sc ursive consis
tency will be abandoned , and the science will be allowed to d egen
erate i nto opinion. Perhaps there is no need for the science o f
man . B u t gi ven the d e termination to estab l i sh i t and to artic u l ate
the ethnological d iscourse, i t is appropriate to shO\\< archaic cultures
a l i t tle respect and to ask oneself about the val i d i ty of such cate
gories as subsistence economy or i m mediate social control . If this
critical task i s not performed , one i s i n danger fi rst o f l etting the

S O C I E T Y

AGA I N S T

THE

STAT E

social reality escape one's grasp, then of misdirecting the empirical

description itsel f. In this way, depending on the societies observed
and on the imagination of the observer, one ends by finding some
thing political everywhere or by finding it nowhere at all.
We believe the previously cited example of Amerindian socie
ties illustrates quite well the impossibility of s peaking of societies
without political power. This is not the place to define the status
of the political in this type of culture. We shall go no further than
to reject what ethnocentrists take for granted: that the bounds of
power are set by coercion, beyond which and short of which no
power would exist. In fact, power exists (not only in America but
in many other primitive cultures) totally separate from violence
and a part from any hierarchy. Consequently, all societies, whether
archaic or not, are political, even if the political is ex pressed in
many voices, even if their meaning is not immediately decipher
able, and even if one has to solve the riddle of a " powerless" pCJ\\l'r.
This leads to a number of conclusions:

(I) Societies cannot be divided into two groups: societies \\<ith

power and societies without power. On the contrary, it is our vicw
(in complete con formity with ethnographic data) that political
power is 1IIlil'Cfsa/, immanent to social reality ( whether the social is
deflncd by "blood tics" or social classes); and that it mani fl-sts itself
in t wo primary modes: coercive power, and non-coer cive power.
(2) Political power as coercion (or as the relation of command
obedience) is not the (Jill! model oftrue power, but simply a purlieu/or

case, a concrete rcali/ation of political power in some cultures,

Western culture for instance (but, of course, the latter is not the
only instance). llence, there is no scientific reason f<)r granting
tha t modality the privikge of ser ving as the re f(:rencc point and
the basis f()r explaining other and di fh:rent modalities.

(.3) Even in societies in which the political institution is absent,

where f()r exam ple chie fs do not exist, CVCIl there the poli tical is
22

C O P E R N I C I) 5

A f'J 0

THE

SA V A G E S

presen t, even there the question of power i s posed: not i n the

m i s l eading sense o f wanting to account ft)r an i m possible absence ,
but i n the contrary sense whereby, perhaps mysteriously, 50mcthillfJ

exists withill the ahsencc. I f po l i tical power i s not a necessi ty i n h erent

in human nature, i.e. , in man as a natural being (and there \:ietzsche
is w rong ) , i t i s a necessity inherent in social l ilt.'. T h e pol i t i cal can
be conceivcd apart h'om v i o lence; the social cannot b e conceived
w i th o u t t h e p o l i t i c al. In o t h e r word s , there are n o socie t i e s
w i thout power. T h i s i s why w e can e mp l oy fo r ollr own purposes ,
i n certain respect s , B . de ]ouvenel's fC)rm u l ati on: " I t has beco m e
apparent that authority i s what creates the soc ial bonel , " and s imu l
taneously subscri be fu lly to Lapierre's c riti c i s m o f i t. F o r i f , as w e
b e l i eve , t h e pol i t i cal is at the very heart ulthe social , i t cannot be
und erstood i n d e jou \'encl's terms. For him the pol i tical ap par
ently b o i l s d()\\ n to " the personal i n fluence" of strong i n d i v i d uals.
I t i s not possi b l e to be m o re nain'ly ( but is it rea l l y a matter of
naivete ?) ethnoc entri c.
The abow rem a rk s open a perspecti ve in \\ h i c h t o s ituate the
theory w h i ch Lap i e rre argues throughout the f(JU rth section of
his book: " Poli tical power derhes !i'om social innovati on" (p. 529),
anel again: " Pol i t ical pm\'er elevelops the m o re reaeli ly as social
innovation bec o m e s more i mportan t , its rhyth m m o re i n tense,
its scope more w iele-ranging" (p. 621 ). The author's ele m o n stra
t i o n , supported as it is by numerous examples, seem s rigorous and
comi ncing , and \H' can only atFirm our agreement w i th his analyses
and conclusions. VVith one reservation , hO\\'e\Tr: the pol itical pmH'r
i nvo l vcd , the type d e riving h'o m social i nnm'at i o n , i s the pO\\Tr
\\e c a l l c o e r c i ve. \V ha t \\ e mean is that L a p i e rre\' t h e o ry i s
concerned with soc i e ties in \\ ' h ich the com mand-obed i ence rela
tion i s obsenTcI, b ut not \vith the others: I n d i an s o c i e t i e s , fc)f'
example, cannot be thought of as societics in which pol i t i cal power
d eri n's h'o m social i nnovati on. I n other word s , social i n novat i o n

SO C ' E T Y

A G A I NST

THE

SlA 1 E

i s perhaps the has i s o f coercive poli tical pmver, b ut it i c e rtai n l y

not the basis o f non-coercive power, u nl e ss it i s d e c i d e d (some
t h i ng i m po s s i b l e ) that only coerc i ve power ex is ts . The range o f
Lapi e rre's theory i s l i m i te d to a certain type nf society, a spec i fic
mode of pol i t i cal power, since i t means i m p l i c i tl y that where there
i s no soc i a l i n n ovati o n , t here i s no pol i tical powe r. I t con tributes
a valuable i n s ig h t noneth e l e s s : viz . , that poli t i cal power as coer
c i o n or v i o l en c e i s till' s ta m p o f historical soc i e ti e s , that i s , soc i e
ties \\ hich bear wi th i n them the cause of i nnovation, change , and
h i stori c i ty. Thus i t wou l d b e possible t o order the vari ous societies
al ong a ne,,' a x i s : soc i e t i e s w i th non-coerc i ve pol itic a l pO\\cr arc
societies w i thout h i story, societies w i th coerc i ve pol i tical power
are hi storical s oc i et i e s . An arrangem ent q u i te d i fleren t from that
i m p l i ed by c u rrent thinking ahout power, ,,'h ic h equates soc i e
ties with out h i s t ory to s oc i e t i e s w i thout powcr.
Innovation i ., the ref<Jre t h e basi s o f coerc i o n , n o t t h e pol itical .
I t f<l ll ()\\''i th at

apierre \; \\O rk completes on I y hall t he progra m ,

'

si nc c the

q ues t i o n o f th e has i s o f non-c o e rc ive p owe r i s not

addressed.

I t is a q u est i o n that c an be posed more succ i n ctl y, and

in a more a c u te

I<mn: why is there such a thing as political pO\\l'r(

\\ hy is there political power rather than nothing? V\'e do

'

not claim

to Illrnish the an'i\\'l'r; our aim has been merely to ,tate \\hy prniom
anS\\TrS arc unsatisbctory and on what c o ndi ti o n

,1

correct answer

is possible. This is the same as defining the task ota ge n era l , not a
regional, political anthropology, a task that divides

into t\\O major

lines of in Cj u i n :

(I) What is politic.11 pO\\Tr? That is: \\hat is so ci et y ? ( 2 ) \Vhat

e:\plains the transition from non-coercive political power to coer
cive political

POWLT, and how docs the transition come about?

That is: what is historv(

\Ve will restrict ourselves to the observation that t\1an and

Fngcls, despite their considerable e thnological backg ro und ,

never

C () P E R:'\J I C U S

AND

T H E

S A VA G E S

c o m m i tted thei r thought to thi s path , assum i ng that they ever

cl early formulated t h e questi o n . Lapierre notes t h at " t h e truth o f
M a r x i s m i s that there wou l d b e n o p o l i tical pm'ver i f t h e re h a d
n o t b e e n conf1i c t s b e t ween social forc e s ." I t i s a truth n o d o u b t ,
b u t o n e valid o n l y t<>r s o c i e t i e s w h e re s o c i a l f()rc e s a r e i n c o n fl i c t .
T h a t power can n o t be understood as violence ( an d its u l ti m ate
form: the central ized s tate ) w i thout social conf1i ct is beyond argu
ment. But what of societies w i thout conflict, those in which "pri m i
t i v e c o m muni s m " o b tai n s ? A n d i s M a r x i s m a b l e to a c c o u n t for
this transition fro m non-history to hi storicity and fro m non-coerc i on
tu v i o l e n c e ? I f i t were , i t wo u l d in fac t be a u n i versal t h e o ry o f
s o c i e t y a n d hi story, a n d therefore wou l d be a n t h r o p o l og y. \Vhat
was the first motor o f social change ? Perhaps we s h o u l d l o ok fo r i t
i n the very thing that i n archaic societies is c o n c e a l e d fro m o u r
ga7e ,

i n the p olitical itself

I t thus wo u l d b e n e c e ssary t o return t o

Durkh e i m 's idea (or set i t b a c k on i t s fee t ) , according to w h i c h

p o l i tical power presupposes social difTeren tiati o n : m ig h t i t n o t
be p o l i tical power t h a t constitutes soci ety's a b s o l u t e d i ffe re n c e ?
C o u l d t h a t n o t b e t h e radical fi ssure at the root o f t h e s o c i a l , the
i n i tial break on which a l l movement and a l l h i s t o ry d e p e n d , the
pri m a l s p l i tting at the core o f al! d i fferen c e s ?
A C o pernican revo l ution is at stake, i n the sense that i n s o m e
re s p e c t s , ethnology until n o w h a s l e t pri m i tive c u l tures revo l ve
around Western c i v i l i zation i n a centri p e tal m o t i o n , so to speak .
Po l i ti c a l anthro p o l og y appears to h ave made i t a b u n d a n t l y c l e a r
t h a t a c o m p lete reversal o f perspectives i s n e c e s sary ( i n s o fa r a s
there i s t h e d e s i re to engage i n a d i scours e c o n c e rn i ng arc h a i c
s o c i e t i e s t h a t c o n forms t o t h e i r real i t y a n d n o t o u rs ) . Pol i ti c a l
anthropology e n c o u n ters a l i m i t t h a t i s not s o m u c h a property o f
pri m i tive societies as i t i s s o m e th i ng carri ed w i t h i n a n t h ro p o l og y
i t s e l f, the l i m i tation o f t h e Wes t i ts e l f, w h o s e s e a l i s s ti l l engraved
u p o n i t . I n ord e r to escape the attrac tion o f its native earth and

SOC I E T Y

A G A I NS T

T H E

ST A T E

attain real fre e d o m o f t h o ught, i n order t o p u l l itse l f away fro m

t h e facts o f natural h i s tory in which i t continues to flou nder, reflec
tion on power m u s t effect a "hel iocentric" conversion: it w i l l then
perhaps succeed in better u n d e rstan d i ng the world o f others, and
consequently o u r own . The path of its conversion is shown, more
over, by a c o n t e m p o rary m i n d which has been able to take seri
ously that of Savag e s : the work o f C l a u d e Levi- Strauss proves to us
the s o u n d n e s s o f this approach by the wealth o f its acco m p l i sh
ments ( these are perhaps still n o t fully recognize d ) and invi tes us
to go farthe r. I t i s time t o c hange suns, t i m e to m ove o n .
Lapierre begins h i s vvork b y denouncing, righ t l y, a c l a i m shared
by thp social sciences: t h ey b e l i eve they can i n s u re the i r s c i e n t i fic
status by breaking all l i nks to what they call philosophy. Of course,
there i s hard l y any n e e d fo r s u c h a reference in order to d escribe
calabashes o r k i n s h i p syste m s . B u t something very d i ffe rent i s
i nvolved, a n d i t i s t o be feared that, under the a l i as o f p h i l o s o phy,
it is si mply

thought i ts e l f they

are trying to e x pel . Does t h i s mean,

then, that science and though t are mutually exclusive: that science
i s c o n str u c t e d fro m n o n - t h o ug h t, o r even a n t i -th o ugh t ? T h e
n o n sense - s o m e t i m e s m i ld, s o m e t i m e s abrasive - u t tered fro m
a l l s i d e s b y the m i l i tants o f " s c i e n c e " seems to l ean in that d i rec
t i o n . But in t h i s i n s tance one must be abl e to recogn i z e where
t h i s frantic i n c l i nati o n to anti-th ought lead s : u n d er the c over o f
"science," o f epigonal platitud es, or less simple-minded end eavors,
it leads straight to o b sc u ranti s m .
This is a cheerless idea to ponder, di scouraging to any ga ya

scicn/a:

if i t i s less ti ring to d e scend than i t i s to c l i m b, is it not true,

h owever, that thought i s l oyal t o itsel f only when it moves

the incline ?

26

against

Exchange and

Power

E t h n o l og i cal theory osci llates, theref()re , between two o p p o s i ng

and yet complementary ideas of political power: for the first, pri m i
t i v e s o c i e t i e s i n t h e m a i n are devoid o f real p o l i tical organ i za t i o n .
T h e abse nce o f a n y v i s i b l e a n d efTective o rgan o f power h a s l ed
s o m e to deny these s o c i e t i e s even the hmc t i o n of power. They arc
c o n s i d ered as s tagna t i ng i n a pre-p o l i tical o r anarc h i c h i storical
s t age . For the second , a m i nority o f pri m i tive societies has tran
scended primord i a l a n archy and attained the only form o f a u t h e n
t i c a l l y h u man gro u p e x i stence : the p o l i t i cal i n s t i t u t i o n .
B u t t h e "lack" that c haracterizes the m aj ority o f s o c i e t i e s i s
co nverted i n the con trary c a s e i n to " e x cess , " a n d the i n s t i t u t i o n
perverted i n to despotism o r tyranny. I t i s as i f p ri m i ti ve s o c i e t i e s
faced t h e al ternative : either the lack of t h e institution a n d anarchy,
or an excess of this same institution and despoti s m . But this seeming
al ternative is rea l l y a d i l e m m a : t h e true p o l i tical c o nd i ti o n a l ways
evad e s primitive man . It i s thi s all but in escapab l e fai l u re to w h i c h
e a r l y ethnology naive l y condemned pri m i tive man that reveals the
c o m p l e m entari t y o f the e x tre m e s . Both agree i n d e n y i ng him the
" right m e asure" o f p o l i t i cal power: one by d e fi c i e n c y, t h e other
by e x c e s s .
I n t h i s respect South America offers a quite remarkabl e e x a m p l e

SOCIl::TY

ACAINST THE STATE

of the tendency to place primitive societies within the fram ework

of this dualis tic macro-typology. The anarchic se paratism of the
maj o rity o f I ndian socie tie s is contrasted to the massive nature o f
t h e I nca o rganization, "the totalitarian empire of the past." Yet ,
given their political organization, most I ndian societies of America
are distinguished by their sense of democracy and taste for equality.
The first ex plorers of Brazil and the ethnographers who came after
often emphasized the fact that the most notab l e characteristic o f
t h e I n dian chie f consists o f his almost compl ete l ack o f authority;
among these people the political fu nction appears bare l y differ
entiated. Though it is scattered and inad equate, the documenta
tio n we have l e n d s support to that vivid impression of d e mocracy
co mmon to all those \\"ho studied American societies. Among the
great n u m b e r of t rib e s acco u n t e d fo r i n So u t h A m e rica , the
au thority o f the chieftaincy is exp licitl y documented o n l y in the
case of a few grou ps, such as the island Taino, the Caquetio, the
Jiraj ira , and the Otomac. Rut it should be poin ted ou t that these
g ro u p s , a l m o s t all o f whom arc Arawak, are located in the north
wes tern part of So uth America and that thei r social organizatio n
presents a marked stratification into castes : this l atter katur e is
!iHmd again on l y among the Cuaycur u and Arawak (Cuana) tribe\
of the Chaco. One can fur t h e r assume that the socie ties of the
Nort hwes t are bou n d t o a c u l tur a l tradition c loser to t h e Chibcha
civilil.ation and the Andean region than to those referred to as
Tropic a l rore s t c u l t u res. It is t h e l a c k o f social st r,1tific a tion
and the aut hority of power tklt shou l d be stressed a s the distin
guishing fea tur e s of the politic a l o rga nil.ation of the majority
ofI nrlian societies. Some of them, such as the Ona and the Yahgan
o/TicITa del ruego, do not even possess the institution or c hiel
tainship; and it is said of the Jiv aro that their language has no term
fi)r the c hier.
"l()

a mind shaped by cu l tures in which political power is endowed

E X C H A N G E="

A N D

P OW E R

w i th real migh t , the d i stinctive ruk olthe American c h ieftaimh i p

i s asserted i n parad o x ical bshi on . J u s t \vhat is t h i s power that i s
deprived of its own e xerc i s e ? \\'hat is it that d e fi nes the c h i e f,
si nce he l acks authori ty? And one m ight soon be tempted , y i e l d i ng
to the temptat i o n o f a m o re or Ie,s consc i ous evoluti o n i sm , to
conclude that political power in these soc ieties i s e p i phenomenal ,
that the i r archaism prevents them tl'om creating a genuine political
t()rm . I lowcver, to soh'e the problem i n th i s lash i o n c o m p e l s o n e
to fram e i t agai n i n a d iHe re nt way : b'om w here docs t h i s i ns t i tu
tion \\' i thout "substance" derive its strength to endure? For w ha t
ne e d s to be understood i s the b i zarre persistence o f a "power"
that i s p racti call y powerless, o r a c h i e ftainsh i p w i thout authori ty,
o r a hJl1ction operating i n a vo i d .
I n a t e x t wri tten i n 1948, R. Lowi e , analyzing t h e d i s t i n c t i ve
katures o f the type of c h i ef alluded to above , l abeled by h i m LilLI/or

chicf; i s o lates three essential traits of the Ind ian leade r. These tra i ts
recur throughout the two Americas, m aki ng it possi b l e to grasp
them as the necessary cond i ti o n s o r I)()\\e r i n t h o s e areas :
(I ) I he chief i s a "peacemake r"; he is the group's m o d e rating
agency, a t1Ct b o rne out by the fiTf]lIl'nt d i v i s i o n o f p o w e r i n t o
c i v i l a n d m i l i tary.
(2) I Ie must be generous w i th h i s pos'iessi o n s , and cannot ,1110\\
h i m s e l f. w i thout b e t rayi ng h i s o ffi c e , t o reje c t t h e i n c e s s a n t
d eman d s o r those under h i s " ad m i n i strat i o n ."
( 3) On h' a good orator can become c h i e f.

T h i s pattern o f triple q ual i fi cation i n d i s pensabl e t o t h e h o l d e r

o f t h e p o l i tical office is, i n all probab i l i ty, equally val i d for both
North and South American societies. F i rst o r al!, i t is truly remark
able that tlll k'atures of the c h i e ftai nsh i p stand i tl stro ng contrast
to one another in t im e of war and in time o f peac e . Qui te o ft e n
t h e leadership of the group is assumed by two diHlTent indiv idual s .
Among the Cubeo, f(ll" instance, or among the tribes o f the Orinoc o ,

SO C I E T Y

A G A I f\..: ST

THE

ST A T E

there e x i s t s a c i v i l power and a m i l i tary power. D u r i ng m i l i tary

e x p ed i ti o n s the war c h i e f c om m a n d s a substan t i a l amount o f
power - at t i m e s abso lute - over t h e group of warri ors. B u t once
peace i s restored the war c h i e f l oses all his power. The model o r
coercive power i s adopted , theref()re , o n l y i n e xceptional c ircum
stances when the group faces an e x ternal threat . But the conjunc
tion of power and coerc i o n ends as soon as the group returns to its
normal i n ternal l i fe . Thus , the authori ty o f Tup i namba c h i e fs ,
unchallenged duri ng war e x p ed i ti o n s , \\'as c losely superv i sed by
the c oun c i l of e l ders during peaceti m e . S i m i larly, the J ivaro are
reported to h ave a c h i e f o n l y i n t i m e o f war. Normal c i v i l power,
b ased o n t h e consensus ornniurn a n d n o t o n c o n stra i n t , i s t h u s
pro tlllmd l y peaceful and i t s fun c t ion i s " pac i fication" : the chief i s
respon s i b l e to r maintai n i ng peace and harmony i n the group. He
m u s t appease quarre l s and settle d i sputes - not by employ i ng a
tllrce he d o e s not possess and w h i c h would not be ack nowl edged
in any case , but by rel y i ng sol e l y on the strength of h i s prestige ,
h i s fairness , and h i s verbal ab i l i ty. More than a judge who passes
sentenc e , h e i s an arb i ter who seeks to reconc i l e . The chief can
do nothing to prevent a d i s pute fro m turn i ng into a fe ud i l h e fa i l s
to dh.'ct a reconc i l ia t i o n o f t h e contend ing parties. T h a t p l a i n l v
IT\c a l s t h e d i sj u ncti on between p o w e r a n d coercion .
T h e s e c o n d c h a rac t e r i s t i c o f the I nd i an c h i e ftai n sh i p - gen
erosity - appears to be m o re than a d u t y : i t is a bondage. Ethnolo
gi:,ts han' o b ., e ncd that among t h e m ost vari ed people s of South
:\ m erica this o b l igation to give, to which the chief i s bound , i.,
e x perienced by the I nd i a n s as a kind o f righ t t o subjec t h i m t o a
con t i n u ous l o o t i ng . And i f the u n f(lrtu nate lead e r tri es to check
this !l ight o f gifts, h e is i m mediately shorn of a l l prestige and power.
Francis I l u x l ey writes o f the U rubu : " I t i s t h e business o l a c h i e f
to be generous and to g i v e w h a t i s asked of h i m . I n some I ndian
tribes you can ,11 ways t e l l the chief because he has the k'\\cst posses]0

E X C H A N GE A N D

P O WE R

sions and wears the shabbie st ornaments. He has h a d t o give away

everything else ." 1
The situation is similar among the Nambicuara , d e s crib e d b y
Claude Levi-Strauss: "Generosity plays a fundamental role in deter
mining the degree o f popularit y the new chie f will enj oy. . .

"2

Sometimes the chie f, exasperated by the repeated d eman d s , crie s

out : "All gone ! No more giving ! Let someone else give in my place ! " l
It would b e pointle s s t o multiply examples o r this kind, for this
relationship of Indians to their chiefis unchanging across the entire
continent (Guiana , upper Xingu, and so on) . Gre e d and power are
incompatible ; to be a chie f it is nece ssary to be genero u s.
Beside s this extraordinary penchant for the chie fs posse ssions,
the In dians place a high value on his words : talent a s a speaker i s
both a condition and instrument of political power. There arc many
trib e s in which every day, either at dawn or sunset, the chie f mu st
gratify the people of his gro up with an edifying discourse. Every
day the Pilaga , Sherente , and Tupinamba chie fs exhort their people
to abide bv tradition. It is not an ac cident that the gist of their
discourse is closely conne cte d to their function a s "peacemaker."
"The customary theme of these harang ues is peace , harmony, and
hone sty, virtue s re commende d to all the tribesmen."4 No doubt
the chie f is sometime s a voice preaching in the wildern e s s : the
Toba o f the Chaco or the Trumai o f the upper Xingu o ften ignore
the disco urse of their leader, who thu s speak s in an atmosphere o f
t.

Francis

H u : d e y.

Y or k . Vik i n g ,

2 . Claude

3.

l/johfc SO I'olln: I I! \ IJ l h ropo!onist / l m ong t h e lJru b u Indiam oj Rro/il, 1\('\\

[ '> S 7 .

Le\' j -')lrall S "i , I a l -ie Fo m i/foic l't IO( jale des Indfens ,Va m bikll-oro , Pari ;... ,

Soc il'tl'

de')

Ibid.

4 . J u liJ n I lav n e s Steward . e d . , Handbook ojSoLl l h I mcricoll Indians, \VJshingto n ,

C ()\ (' r n m e n l P ri n t i ng

Olll c c ,

1 946-5 9 ,

vol .

V,

3'

p.

343.

D.C.,

U.S.

S O C I ET Y

A GA I N S T

T HE S T ATE

general indifferenc e . But this should not hid e from u s the Indian's
love of the s poken word : a Chiriguano e xplained the accession of
a woman to the oHlce of chief by saying : " H er father taught h er
the art of s p eaking ."
Ethnographic literature thoroughly documents the presence of
these three essential features of chieftainships. However, t h e South
American area (excluding the And ean cultures , which will not b e
discussed here) offers a feature sup plementary t o the thre e empha
sized by Lowie : nearly all these societies , whatever their type of
socio-political unity and d emographic siz e , r ecogniz e polygamy;
and almost all of them recogniz e it as the usually exclusive privi
lege of the chief. The size of the group varies considerably in South
America , d e pending on the geogra phic milieu , the way food is
acquired , the l evel of technology. A band of Guayaki or Siriono
nomads , p eoples w ithout agriculture , rarely numb ers morl' than

30

persons . By contrast , Tu pinamba or Guarani villages , inhab

ite d by sed entary farmers , sometim es contain more than a thou

san d p ersons. The large communal house of the Jivaro shelters
from

80

roughly

to

1 00

3 00

residents, and the Witoto community includ es

persons . Depen ding on the cultural area , therefore ,

the average size o f socio-political units can und ergo substantial

variation . It is all the more striking to find that most of these
cultures , from the wretched Guayaki band to the enormous Tupi
village , recognize and accept the model of plural marriage; more
over, this frequently takes the form of sororate polyg yny.
Since polygynous marriage is practiced by both the Guayaki band
and the Tupi village thirty or forty times its size , it must be assumed
that this institution is not depen dent on

minimum d emographic

d ensity. On e can also conclud e that polygyny does not cause any
overly serious disturbances in a large group . But what about units
as small as the Nambikwara , Guayaki , or Siriono bands? It cannot
fail to d e e pl y affect the life of the group . Yet , the latter is no doubt

E X C H A N G E

A N D

P OW E R

abl e to fi n d sound reasons for accepting i t - reasons we must try

to e l u c i date .
I t i s i nteresting to examine the ethnograph i c material o n t h i s
subject d es p i te i t s m a n y gaps : our i n formati on a b o u t m a n y tribes
i s very meager and i n some cases a l l that i s know n about a tri be is
i ts name. H owever, i t seems possi b l e to gra n t c e rta i n recu rrent
phenomena stati stical probabi l i ty. Keep i ng in m i n d the appro x i
mate b u t probabl e figure of about 2 0 0 eth n i c groups f() r a l l o f
South America, o n e realizes that the information ava i lable on them
attests to the e x i stence of stri ct monogamy o n l y fo r some ten
groups: these are , fo r example, the Pal i c u r of G u i ana , the Apinaye
and the Ti m b i ra of the Ge grou p , and the Yagu a of the Northern
Amazon . Wi thout assigni ng to these calcu l a t i o n s a prec i s i o n they
certainly do not possess, they arc nonetheless i n d icative of an order
of magni tu d e : scarc e l y one-twenti eth of these societies practices
stri ct monogamy. That i s , most of the grou ps recogn i z e pol ygyny
and the e x tension o f the latter i s vi rtual l y conti nenta l .
B u t i t should also b e mentioned that I nd ian p o l ygyny i s l i m i ted
stri c t l y to a small n u m ber of individual s, nearl y al ways ch iefs . And
i t is u n d e rstandabl e that the s i tuation could n ot be otherw i se . I f
one takes i n to a c c o u n t the fac t that the n a t u r a l s e x rati o , o r
numerical relationsh i p of the sexes, could never b e such as to perm i t
every m a n to marry more than o n e woman , i t i s obvious that gener
a l i zed p o l ygyny i s a b i o l ogical i m possib i l i t y : hence , i t i s c u l t u r
al l y restricted to certa i n i nd ivid u a l s . T h i s natural determ i nati on
i s confi rmed by an e x a m i nation o f the ethnograph i c data: o f the
1 80 or 190 tribes prac t i c i ng pol ygyny, only ten o r so d o not assign

i t any l i m i ts . That i s , in those tribes every adu l t male can marry

more than one woman . They are , for exampl e , the Achagua , w h o
are northwestern Arawak, the Chi bcha, the J ivaro , a n d the Rucuyen,
a Cari b people o f G u i ana.
The Achagua and Chibcha, belong i ng to the c u l t u ral area cal l e d
33

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

S TAT E

the Circum-Caribbean , whose boundaries fall within Venezuela and

Colombia, were very d i fferent from the rest of the South American
peopl e s . Caught up in a process of extreme social strati fication ,
they reduced their less powerful neighbors to slavery and thus bene
fi tted fro m a steady and substantial supply of women prisoners ,
\\

hom they took at once as supplementary wives . As for the J ivaro ,

thei r passio n for war and headhunting i n a l l probab i l i ty entai led a

very high m o rtal i t y rate for the young warriors. T h i s , i n turn ,
allowed most of the men to practice polygyny. The Rucuyen, along
with several other Carib groups of Venezuela , were also a very helli
cose people: most o f the time their m i l i tary e xped itions a i med at
p rocuring s laves and secondary w i ves.
A l l t h e foregoi ng show s , fi rst, t h e naturally determ ined rari ty
o f general ized polygyny. Secondly, w h e n i t i s not restricted to the
chief, i t i s d ue to cultura l factors : t h e existence of castes, th e prac
tice of slavery, and the pursui t of war. On the face of it, these latter
societies seem more democratic than the others . Polygyny, as they
practice i t , has c eased to be the pri v i l ege of a single ind ividual .
And in fact the c o ntrast seems more clear-cu t between an I q u i to
chief, \\'ho may possess a dozen wom e n , and the men u nder h i m
who arc tied d ow n t o m on ogamy, than between a n Achagua ch ief
and t he m e n o f h i s group for w h om polygyny i s equal l y perm i tted .
I .et

LI S

recal l , however, that the soc ieties of the Northwest were

already highly strati fI e d . An aristocracy of rich nobles, by virtue

o f i t s wea l t h , c o m manded the means to be more pol ygynous - i f
it can b e so phrased - than the l ess f()rtu nate "plebians": the model
o f marriage by purchase perm i tted the rich men to acqu i re a larger
n u m be r of w i v e s . So that between polygyny as the pri v i l ege of the
c h i e f and gen c ral i/ed polygyny, t h e d i fkrence i s not i n k i nd b u t
d egre e : a C h i bc h a

or

Achagua plebian cou l d scarc e l y marry more

than t wo or three wo m a n , w h i l e a famous chief fro m the North

west - G uara m ental - had 200.

E X C H A N G E

A N D

P OW E R

G iven the preceding analysis , i t i s legitimate to assume that for

m o s t South American societies the matrimonial institution o f
polygyny i s closely linked to the political institution of power.
The specific character of this link would be n egated only by the
restoration of the conditions for monogamy: a polygyny extended
equally to all men of the group. Now, a brief look at a few socie
ties possessing the general ized model of plural marriage reveals
that the contrast between the chief and the rest of the men i s main
tained and even reinforced .
Because they were i nvested with real power, certain Tupinamba
warriors - the most successfu l in combat - could h ave secondary
wives, o ften prisoners wrested from the defeated grou p . And the
"Council , " to which the chief was compelled to submit all deci
sions, was in part composed precisely of the most outstanding war
riors. It was generally from the latter that the assembly of men chose
the new chief when the dead l eader's son was deemed unworthy of
the office. Further, i f some groups recognize polygyny as the privi
l ege of the best hunters as well as the chief, this is because hunting
- as an economic activity and an activity i nvol v i ng p restige assumes a special importance sanctioned by the influence conferred
on the skillful man by his adroitness in bringing back a l o t of gam e .
Among such peoples a s t h e Pur-Coroado , t h e Caingang , or the
I p u rina of the ]urua-Puru s , hunting i s a critical sourc e o f foo d .
Accordingly, the best hunters acquire a social status and political
" weight" consonant with their professional merits. The l e ader's
main task being to safeguard his group's wel fare , the I purina or
Caingang chief will be one of the best hunters. And i t is the latter
who generally provide the men eligible for the chieftainsh i p .
N o t only i s a good hunter in a position to supply the needs of a
polygynous family. Hunting is an activity essential to the survival
o f the group . This guarantees the political importance o f those
men who are most successfu l at it. By perm itting the most effec35

S O C I ET Y

AG A I N S T

T H E S T A TE

tive food p roviders to p ractice polygyny, the g roup - taking out a

mortgage on the future , so to speak - implicitly acknowledges
their quality as po tential leaders . Hut attention must he called to
the fact that this polygyny, far from being egalitarian , always favors
the actual chi d o f the g roup .
The polygynic model of marriage , v iewed in its various exten
sions: general or restricted , restricted either to the chief alo ne or
to the chief and a small minority of men , has consistently referred
us back to the po l itical l i fe of the group ; this is the hor i zo n on
which polygyny t races its pattern , and perhaps thi s is the place
where the meaning of its function can be read .
It is surely by four t raits that the chicf is disti nguished in South
America . As chief , he is a "professio nal pac i fier " ; in addition ,
he has to he gene rous and a good orator ; finally, polygyny i s
his prerogat i n > .
A dis t inction is called f()r, however, between the first of these
criteria and the 1()llow ing three . The la tter d e fi ne the s e t of
prestations and counter-prestations which maintain the balance
between the social structure and the po litical institution: the leader
exercises a right over an abnormal num ber of t he group's women ;
in retu rn , the group is justified in requiring of i ts chie fgenerosity
and talent as a speaker. This relation , apparently in the catego ry of
e xchange , is thus determined at an essential lcvel of society, a soci
ological level , pro p erly speaking , that concerns the very social
struct ure of the group as such . In contrast , the moderating fu n c
tion o f the chicf operatcs in the diflcrent clement of strictly political
practice . In 1;1(" 1, o lle cannot situate on the same sociological plane,
as Lowie appears to do , the cOllclusions contained in the preceding
analysis: ( I ) t he set o j conditions defining the possibility of the
political s pher e ; ( 2 ) the l' I kctive implementation - ex perienced
as such - which constitutes the everyday function of the institu
tion . "Ii) treat as homogenous cleme nts the mode in which power

E X C H A r',j G E

AND

P OW E R

i s c o n s t i tuted , a n d c o n s t i t u ted power's mode o f p e r fo r m a n c e

wou l d , i n eflect, l ead o n e t o confuse t h e
w i th i t s

activity,

nature

o f c h i e ftai n s h i p

t h e transcendental w i t h the e m p i ri cal a s p e c t o f

t h e i n s t i tution .
H u m b l e i n scope, the chi ef's functions arc controlled n o n e the
less by public o p i n i o n . A p l a n n e r o f the group's economic and
cere m o n i al ac t i v i t i e s , the l eader possesses no d e c i s io n - mak i ng
power; h e is n ever certai n that h i s "orders" w i l l be carri ed o u t .
T h i s p e rmanent frag i l i ty of a power unceasingly contested i mparts
its

tonality

to the e x ercise of the o fB c e : the power of the c h i e f

d e p e n d s on t h e good w i l l o f t h e group. I t t h u s b e c o m e s e a s y t o
u n d erstand t h e d i rect i n terest t h e chief has i n maintai n i ng peac e :
t h e outb reak of a cri s i s that would destroy i nternal harmony cal l s
for the i n tervention of power, but simultaneously gives ri s e to that

intention

to contest which the chief has not the means to overcom e .

T h e function , b y being exercised, thus points to t h e thing whose

m e a n i n g w e a r e seeking: the impotence o f the i ns t i t u t i o n . B u t
this m e a n i ng e x i sts, d i sgui sed , on t h e structura l p l a n e , t h a t i s , o n
a n o t h e r l evel . As t h e concrete acti v i ty of t h e fun c t i o n , the c h i e f's
prac t i c e does n o t refer, therefore, to the same order of phenomena
as the other three criteria; it l e ts them stand as a u n i ty structura l l y
I i nked t o t h e very essence o f society.
I n fac t , i t i s e x traord i n ary to d i s c o v e r t h a t t h i s t r i n i t y o f
predicates - oratorical tal ent, generosi ty, a n d polygyny - attached
to the p e rson of the l eader, concerns the same e l e m e n t s w h o s e
e x c h ange and c i rculation c o n s t i t u t e soc i e ty as such and san c t i o n s
the trans i ti o n from nature to culture. Society i s defined primari l y
by the three fundamental levels of the exchange of goo d s , wome n ,
a n d word s ; a n d i t i s equal l y by direct reference to these three types
o f "signs" that the p o l i tical s phere of I nd i an s o c i e t i e s i s c o n s t i
tuted . Hence, power relates here ( i f t h i s concurrence is t o b e consid
e red m o re than an i nsigni ficant coincidence ) to the three essential
37

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

S TAT E

structural levels o f society; that is, i t is at thc very heart of thc

communicative universc. We next need to try and clarify the nature
of this relatio n s h i p so as to d raw out i t s structural impli cations.
Apparently, power is fai thful to the law of exchange which f(lUnds
and regulates society; i t seems as i f the chief received a part of the
group's wom e n i n e xchange for econo m i c goods and linguistic
sign s , the o n l y d i fference res u l t i ng fro m the fact that here the
e x change- u n i t s a re , o n one han d , a n i n dividual and , on the other,
the group as a w h o l e . I I owever, such an i nterpretation, based on
the i m press i o n t h a t t h e p rinciple of rec i procity determines the
relati onsh i p between power and soc i ety, is soon f()und lacking:
we know that the I ndian societies of South America as a rule possess
only a rud i mentary technology, and that, consequen tly, no indi
vidual , including the chief, i s capable o f amassing very much mate
rial wealth . :\ s we have seen , the prestige o f a chief i s due i n large
part to h i s genero s i ty. B u t the e x pectations of the I nd i ans quite
often exceed the i m mediate possibil ities of the chief. I Ie is forced
there f(xc , under penalty of seeing himsclfrapidly forsaken by most
of his peo p l e , to try to satisfy their demands. N o doubt his wives
are able in large measure to support him in his j ob : t h e e x a m p l e o f
t h e Nambikwara well il lustrates t h e crucial rol e of the chief's wives.
But so m e obj ects - bow s , arrows , mascu l i n e ornaments - which
the h u nters and \,"arri ors are fond of can o n l y be man u factured by
their c h i e f; now his prod uctive capac ity is grea tly l i m i ted , and
that o f necessi ty Ii mi ts the range of prestations in goods fro m the
chief to the gro u p .

\Ve

also k now i n th is connection that f()r primi

tive soc i e t i e s wo m e n are cons u m m ate values. I n that case , h ow i s

it possible to clai m t h a t this a pparent exchange bri ngs into play
two eq u ivalent "q uantities" of val u c , a ll e q u i va l e nce that shou l d
b e e x pected , however, i f t h e pri n c i ple of rec i proc ity i ndeed works
to l i n k soc i e t y to its f(m11 o f power? It is evident that f()f the grou p ,
which has relinq u i shed a considerable q uantity of its most essen-

E X C H A N G E

AND

P OW E R

tial values - the women - for the chiefs benefit, the daily harangues
and the meager economic goods o f which the leader d i s po s e s do
not amount to an equivalent c o m p ensati o n . And this is eve n l e s s
the c a s e as, d e s p i t e h i s l a c k o f authori ty, the c h i e f enj oys an envi
able s o c i al status . T h e u n e q u a l c h arac ter o f t h e " e x c h ange" is
s t ri k i n g : i t wo u l d m ake s e n s e o n l y i n s o c i e t i e s w h e re p o w e r,
equipped with effective authority, would by that very fac t be sharply
d i ffere n t iated fro m the rest o f the group . Now it i s prec i s e l y thi s
authori ty which the I ndian c h i e f lack s : how then i n terpret the
fact that an office rewarded with exorbitant privileges is yet power
l es s i n i t s exerc i s e ?
By analyzing t h e relation s h i p b e t ween power and t h e g ro u p i n
terms of exchange , o n e brings i n to sharper foc u s t h e parad o x o f
t h i s relationsh i p . L e t u s c o n s i de r, therefore , the status o f e a c h o f
these three level s of communicatio n , taken separately, at the center
of the p o l i t i cal sphere . I t i s obvious that a s regard s t h e w o m e n ,
their c i rculation occurs in "one-way" fashion - fro m t h e g ro u p
towards the chief; for t h e latter would b e clearly incapabl e of placing
back i n t o the c i rc u i t , in the d i rection of the gro u p , a n u m b e r o f
women e q u a l to t h a t which h e has received from i t . O f c ourse ,
the c h i e f's wive s w i l l give h i m daughters w h o l ater w i l l b e as m any
potential wives for the young men o f the grou p . B u t i t s h o u l d n o t
be thought that the d aughter's reinsertion i n t o the cyc l e o f matri
monial exchange s s erves to compensate for the fath er's p o lygyny.
I n rea l i ty, i n most S o u th Ameri can soc i e t i e s , the c h i e ftai n s h i p i s
inherited patri lineally. T h u s , mak i ng allowance for i n d i v idual apti
tu des, the chief's son, or, fai l i ng that, the son o f the c h i efs brother,
w i l l be t h e n e w leader o f t h e c o m m u n i ty. A n d a l o ng w i th t h e
respons i b i l i ty, he w i l l garne r the pri v i l ege o f the o ffi c e , n a m e l y
p o lygyny. H e n c e the exerc i s e o f t h i s priv i l ege can c e l s , w i th e a c h
n e w generat i o n , the e ffect of the thing t h a t m i g h t h ave n e u tral
ized, by way of the wom e n , the p o l ygyny o f the prev i o u s genera-

39

S O C I E T Y

AG A I N ST

T H E

S TA T E

t i o n . I t i s n o t o n t h e d i achronic p l ane of succeed i ng generati o n s

t h a t the d r a m a o f p o w e r i s a c t e d o u t , but rath er on t h e synchroni c
p l ane o f the s t r u c t u re o f the grou p . The advent o f a c h i e f repro
duces the s a m e si tuation each t i m e ; thi s structure of repet i ti o n
mmld come t o an end only from the cyc l ical standpo i n t o f a power
that wo u l d pass r o u n d to ali the fam i l i e s of the gro u p in succes
sion , the chief being chosen every generation from a di fferent family,
u n t i l the fi rst fam i l y i s arri ved at once more, thus commenc i ng a
new cyc l e . R u t the j ob i s heredi tary : here i t i s not a matter of
exchange , t h e refc)rc , b u t of a p u re and s i m p l e g i ft fro m t h e grou p
to i t s l ea d e r, a g i ft w i th n o rec i procat i o n , apparent l y meant to
sanction the s o c i a l status of the h o l der o f a respons i b i l i ty estab
l i shed for the p u r p o s e of n o t b e i ng exerc i s e d .
I f we turn to t h e econom i c l evel of e x c h ange , we n o t i c e that
goods are s u bj ec t e d to the same treat m e n t : th e i r movement i s
e Hected sol e l y fro m the c h i e f to the grou p . The I ndi an societies of
S o u th A m e r i c a are in fac t rare l y b o u n d to make economic prcsta
t i o n s to the i r l e a d e r, and he has to c u l ti vate h i s manioc and k i l l h i s
o w n g a m e l i k e everybody e l s e . With the e x c e p t i o n o f certa i n soci
eties of the n o rt h w e s tern part of South America, the p ri v i l eges o f
c h i e ftai n s h i p are g e n e ra l l y n o t s i tuated o n t h e material p l a n e , and
o n l y a few t r i b e s make i d l e n e s s i n to the mark o f a superi or soc i a l
s t a t u s : t h e M a na s i o f Bol i v i a and t h e G u aran i work t h e c h i e f's gar
d e n s a n d harve st h i s c ro p s . It s h o u l d be remarked i n a d d i t i o n that
a m o ng the G u a ra n i the use o f this right favors the c h i e f perhaps less
than the shama n . } Iowner that may be, the maj ority of I ndian lead
ers hard l y proj ect t h e image ofa do-nothi ng k i ng: quite the contrary.
the c h i e f, o b l iged as h e is to respond w i th e x p e c ted generosi ty,
m u s t consta n t ! y t h i n k o f ways to obtain g i fts t o o He r t o h i s peo p l e .
B a r t e r w i t h o t h e r g ro u ps c a n b e a source o f good s ; b u t m o re o ft e n
t h e c h i e f h a s to r e l y o n h i s own i nge n u i t y and l abor. C u riously
e n o ug h , in South A m e ri c a i t i s t h e l eader w h o w o r k s the hard e s t .

E X C H ANG E

A N D

P O W E R

Lastly, the status o f l ingu istic signs i s more evident sti l l : i n soci
eties that have been able t o protect their l anguage iro m the d egra
dation v i sited on it by our own , speaking is more than a pri v i l eg e ,
i t i s a d u ty o f t h e chi e f. I t i s to h i m that t h e mas tery o f word s fal l s ,
t o such a n e x tent that som e o n e was abl e to write , o n the subj e c t
o f a N o rth American tri b e : " I t can be said n o t t h a t the c h i e f i s a
man w h o speaks, b u t that he who speaks i s a c h i e f, " a stat e m e n t
eas i l y a p p l i cabl e to the whole South A merican c o n t i n e n t . The
exerci s e of this near-monopoly over language is fu rther reinf()rced
by the fac t that I ndians d o n o t perceive the s i tuati o n as a fru stra
t i o n . The demarc a t i o n i s so c l early estab l i shed that the Tru m a i
l eader's t w o assi stan t s , fo r i nstanc e , al though they b e n e fi t fro m a
certain prestige , cannot

speak

l i k e the chief: n o t by virtue of an

extern a l prohibi t i o n , but because o f t h e fee l i ng t h a t t h e speak i ng

activity \\ ()u l d be an i nsu I t both to t h e chief a n d t o t h e l anguag e ;
fo r - says an i n formant - anyon e o t h e r t h a n the c h i e f " wo u l d b e
asham e d " to speak as h e d o e s .
I n rej e c t i ng t h e notion o f a n exchange o f t h e w o m e n o f the
group against the goods and messages of the chief, we conseq uently
turn t o examine the movement o f each "sign" accord i ng to i ts
particular c i rcuit and discover that this tri p l e move m e n t mani
fests a common negative dimension which assigns these three types
o f "signs" an identical t1te: they no longer appear as exchange values,
reci proci ty ceases to regulate th e i r c i rc u l ati on , and each o r t h e m
fal l s , therefore, outside the prov ince o f c o m m u n i cati o n . H e n c e a
new relati o n s h i p be tween the d o main o f power and the essence
o f the group now c o m es to l ight : power enj oys a priv i l eged rel a
tionship toward those elements whose reciprocal m ovement founds
the very structure o f society. But this relationshi p , by d enying these
e l e m e n t s an e x c h ange val u e at the group l evel , i n s ti t u t e s t h e
p o l i tical sphere n o t only as ex ternal to the structure o f the gro u p ,
b u t fu rther still , as n egati ng that structure : power i s con trary t o

S O C I E T Y

A GA I N S T

T H E

STAT E

the group, and the rej ection of reci procity, as the ontological d i men
s i o n o f s o c i ety, is the rej ec t i o n of s o c i e t y i t s e l f.
Such a c o n c l u s i o n , j o i ned to the pre m i s e o f the powerl essness
o f the c h i e f in I n di a n soci e t i e s , m ay seem parad o x i c a l ; it i s thi s
conclus i o n , h owever, t h a t h o l d s t h e k e y to t h e i n i tial proble m :
t h e chieftain s h i p 's lack of authori ty. I n fact, i n order for o n e aspect
of the s o c i al s truct u re to b e abl e to exert any i n t1 u e n c e on th i s
structure , i t i s n e c e ssary, at t h e very least, that t h e relationship
between t h e part i c u l a r system and t h e total s y s t e m b e o t h e r than
enti rely nega t i v e . T h e effective e l aboration o f the p o l i tical func
tion i s p o s s i b l e o n l y i f i t i s i n s o m e w a y i nherent i n the gro u p .
N o w i n I n d i an s o c i e t i e s t h i s fun c t i o n i s e x c l u d e d fro m the group ,
and i s even e x c l u s i ve of the l atter: hence i t i s in the n egative rel a
t i o n m a i n t a i n e d w i t h regard to the grou p that the i m potence o f
t h e pol i tical function i s roo ted . T h e ej ection of t h e poli tical func
tion fro m s o c i e ty i s the very means of red u c i ng i t to i m potence.
To thus conceive the rel at i o n s h i p between power a n d soc i e t y
among the I n d i an p e o p l e s o f South America m ay see m to i m p l y a
teleological m etaphysi c s , accord i ng to which some mysterious w i l l
wou l d e m p l oy d ev i o u s m e a n s so as to deprive pol i t i ca l power 01
prec i s e l y i t s qual i ty as power. I t i s not at all

matter o f fi nal cause s ,

however. T h e p h e n o m e n a a n a l yzed h e re b e l o ng t o t h e fi e l d o f
u nc o n sc i o u s ac t i v i t y by m e a n s o f w h i c h the g ro u p fas h i o n s i t s
mod e l s : a n d i t i s t h e s t ru c t u ra l m o d e l o f the re l a t i o n o f t h e soc i a l
gro u p to pol i t i ca l p o w e r t h a t we a r e try i ng to uncover. T h i s mod e l
a l l o w s u s to i n tegrate d a t a i n i ti a l l y perc e i ved as contrad i c tory. At
th i s stage o f analy s i s , we can see that the i mpotence of power i s t i e d
d i re c t l y to i ts " m a rg i n a l " p o s i t i o n i n re l a t i o n to the t o t a l syste m ;
a n d th i s pos i t i o n i ts e l f res u l ts fro m t h e rupture that power i nj ects
i n to the d ec i s i ve cyc l e o f the e x change o f wom e n , good s , and wor d s .
B u t t o d e tect i n t h i s rupture t h e

cause of t h e

powerl e s s n e s s of t h e

po l i t i c a l fu n c t i o n s t i l l t h rows n o l ig h t o n i ts profo u n d

reason for

E X C H A N G E

A N D

P OW E R

being . Ought t h e sequence: rupture o f exchange-externali ty

impotence, be i n terpreted as an accidental detour of the process
that consti tutes power? That wou l d allow one to suppose that the
result of the operation (power's lack of authorit y ) i s merely contin
gent with respect to the ini tial intention ( the promotion of the
political sphere ) . B u t it would then be necessary t o accept the
idea that thi s "error" i s coextensive with the model i tself and that
i t is repeated indefi n i tely across a nearly continen tal area: in this
way, none o f the cultures that inhabit the area would prove capable
o f prov i d i ng themselves w i th a genuine pol i tical authority. I t
wou l d also mean accepting the underlying postu l ate - t otall y
arbi trary - that these cultures d o n o t possess any c reativi ty : a t
the same time i t would b e a return t o the presumption o f their
archais m . Hence i t i s not possible to conceive o f the separati o n
between the political function and authority as the accidental failure
of a process aiming at their synthesis, as the "skidding" of a system
unwittingly confounded by a result which the group wou l d be
incapable o f correcting.
Challenging the viewpoin t of t h e accident l eads us to assume a
certain necessity inherent i n the process itself, and to seek the
ulti mate reason for the resul t at the level of sociological intention
ality, this b eing the place where the model takes form. To grant
that the result conforms to the intention that presided over its
production can only signi fy that this result was implied i n the
original intention: power i s exactly what these societies i n tended
i t to be. And as this power i s - to p u t it schematicall y - nothing,
the group thereby reveals its radical rej ection o f authority, an utter
negatio n of power. Is it possible to account for this "decision" by
I n dian cultures? Must we decide that i t i s the i rrational outcome
of fantasy, o r can we, on the contrary, postulate a rationality imma
nent to thi s "choice"? The very radical character o f the refusal , its
pers i s tence and e x tensi o n , perhaps suggests the perspective i n
43

S O C IETY

A G A I N S T THE S T A TE

which to place it. The relationship between power and exchange ,

although negative , has nonetheless shown that it is at the deepest
level of the social structure: the site of the unconscious constitu
tion of its dimensions , where the problematic of power arises and
takes shape . Stating it difkrently, it is culture itself , as nature's
absolute difkrence , that becomes totally invested in the rejec
tion of this power. AmI is it not precisely in its relation to nature
that culture manifests a repudiation of equal profundity? The iden
tical character of the two instances of rejection brings us to discern
in these societies an identification of power with nature: culture
is the negation of both , not in the sense that power and nature
would be t wo different dangers , the sameness of which would be
that of an identica l - negative - relationship to a third term , hut
indeed in the sense that culture apprehends power as the \Try resur
gence of nature.
In fact, it is as though these societies formed their political sphere
in terms of an intuition which for them would take the place of a
rule: namely, that po\\Tr is essentially coercion ; that the unil ing
activity of the political h mction would be per ilJrlll ed not on the
basis o f the str ucture o f society and in conf()rmity with it , but on
the basis of an uncontrollable and antagonistic bey ond ; that in
e s sence power is no more than the fll l"tive manitl' stati on o f natur e
i n its power. l ienee , far from giving u s the lack l u ster image o f an
inability to resolve the q uestion of political power, these socie
tie s astonish us by the subtlety with which they have posed and
settled the q uestion. They had a very early premonition that power's
transcendence conceal s a mortal risk for the group , that the prin
ciple o f an authority which is external and the creator of it s O\vn
legality is a cha llenge to cultur e itsel f. It is the intuition o f this
threat that determined the de pth o f their political philoso phy .

For,

on discovering the great a fHnity o f power and nature , as the two f{)ld
limitation of the doma in of cu lture , Indian societies were able to

44

E X C H ANG E

AND

P O W E R

c reate a means for neu tralizing the virulence o f p o l i tical authori ty.
They c h o se themselves to be the found ers of that authori ty, b u t i n
s u c h a manner a s to l e t power appear o n l y a s a negati v i ty t h a t i s
immediately subdued: they established it in keeping with its essence
( th e negation of c u l t u re ) , but preci sely in order to stri p it of any
real migh t . Thus, the advent of power, such as it i s , presents i t s e l f
t o these s o c i e t i e s as t h e very means fo r n u l l i fying that power. T h e
same o pe ration that i nstitutes the poli tical sph ere forbi d s i t t h e
e x erci s e o f i t s j uri s d i c t i o n : i t i s i n t h i s m a n n e r that cul ture uses
against p ower the very ruse o f nature . That i s why t h e one called
c h i e f i s the man i n whom the exchange o f wom e n , word s , and
goods shatters.
As the purveyor of weal th and messages, the chief conveys nothing
b u t h i s dependence on the grou p , and the obl igation to e x h i b i t at
every m o m ent the i nnocence o f his o ffice . Ye t , i t might seem that
in the c o n fid ence the grou p places i n i ts c h i e f, a free d o m experi
enced by the group i n its deal i ngs with power, th ere i s the surrep
t i t i ous h i n t of con trol by the chief over the community - a control
that runs deeper fo r being less apparent. For in certain c i rc u m
s tanc e s , in part i cular d u ri ng a peri od o f scarci ty, the group places
i ts e l f e n t i rely i n the hands of the c h i e f; w h e n fam i n e threatens,
the communities of the Orinoco install themselves in the c h i efs
h o u s e , d e c i d i ng to l i ve at h i s e x p ense until better d ays return .
Similarly, the Nambik wara ban d , after a long spell of foo d shortage ,
l ooks to the c h i e f and not to itself to i mprove t h e s i tuati o n . I t
seems i n t h i s case t h a t t h e group, unahle to d o w i t h o u t the c h i e f,
wholly depends on h i m . B u t t h i s subordinati on i s m erely apparent:
it actuall y masks a k i n d o f blackmail the group uses agai nst the
c h i ef. For if the latter does n o t d o what is expected o f h i m , h i s
v i l l age or hand w i l l simply abandon him and throw i n with a l eader
m ore f.l i t h ful in h i s duti e s . I t is o n l y on condition of this real depen
d ence that the c h i e f can keep his statu s .

S OC I E T Y

AG A I N ST

T H E

STAT E

I t app ears very c learly i n the relationship between power and

the spoken word : for i f l anguage is the very opposite of violence ,
speech must be interpreted as more than the privilege of the ch ief;
as the means the group provides i t s e l f w i th to maintain power
outside coercive violence; as the guarantee repeated daily that thi s
threat is averted . The l eader's word conceals within i t the ambi
g u i t y of b e i ng d i verted from the function of commu n i cation that
i s immanent to l anguage . There is so l i ttle necessity for the chief's
d i scourse t o b e l i stened t o that the I n d i ans often pay no attention
to it. The l anguage o f authori ty, the Urubu say, i s a ne ena hantan : a

harsh

language that awai ts n o response. B u t this harshness does

not compensate i n the slightest for the impotence o f the p o l i tical

i nstitutio n . To the e x ternal i ty o f p ower corresponds the i solation
o f its speech , which - because i t is u t tered harshly so as n o t to be
understood - bears w i tness to i ts gentleness.
Pol ygyny can b e i nterpreted i n the same manne r : beyond its
formal aspect as a pure and s i m p l e gift meant to p o s i t power as a
rupture of ex change , a positive fu nction takes fo rm , one analo
gous to that o f goods and l anguage . The chief, as custodian of the
essential values o f the grou p , i s by that very fact responsible for i t ,
and via t h e women h e i s i n a sense t h e grou p's prison er.
This m o d e of c o n s t i t u t i ng the p o l i tical sph ere can be under
stood , therefore, as a veri tab l e d e fense mechanism for I ndian soci
eties. T h e c u l ture asserts the pred o m i nance of what i t i s based
on - exchange - precisely by treati ng power as the negation o f that
foun dati o n . B u t it should be poin ted out that by d e pri ving t h e
" signs" o f t h e i r e x c hange val u e i n the d o m a i n o f p ower, these
c u l tures take from wo m e n , goods, and words their fu nction as
signs to be e xc hange d ; and conseq u e n t l y, it is as pure values that
these el e m e n t s are grasp e d , for communication ceases to be the i r
horizon . T h e status o f language suggests wi t h a spec i al fo rce t h i s
conversion from t h e condition o f signs t o that o f val u e s : t h e chief's

E X C H A N G E

A N D

P OW E R

d i scou rse recall s , by i ts s o l i t u d e , the speech o f a p o e t for whom

words are values b e fore they are signs. What can b e the meaning,
then, o f this twofo l d process o f de-signification and valorizat i o n of
the e l ements of exchange ? Perhaps i t expresses - even beyond
the attachment of c u l ture to its values - the h o p e o r nostalgia
fo r a mythical t i m e in which everyone wou l d accede t o the ful l
ness o f a bliss u nl i m i ted by t h e e xigency of e x c h ange .
I n d i an cultures are cultures anxious to rej ect a power that fasci
nates them: the affiuence of the chief i s the gro up's d aydream . And
i t is clearly for the p urpose of expressing both the c u lture's concern
fo r i t s e l f a n d t h e d ream i t h a s o f transcending i tself, that p ower,
parado xical by its nature, i s venerated i n its i mpotence : thi s is the
I n dian chief, a metaphor for the t ri b e , the

47

imago

of its myth.

I ndependence and

Exogamy 1

The strongly marked contrast between the cul tures o f the And ean
h igh p l ateaus and the c u l t u res of the Tro p i cal Fore s t , etched i n
t h e narratives and reports o f s i x teenth- and seventeenth-century
m i ssionaries, soldiers, and explorers, was subsequently exaggerate d :
t h e re graduall y formed the p o p u l ar i magery of a pre-C o l u m b i an
A m e r i c a d e livered over to

sa vagery ,

except for the Andean reg i o n

where the I ncas h a d assured the tri umph of civilization .

These s i m p l i s t i c notions - naive in appearan ce o n l y, for they
were in c o m p l e t e accord with the obj ectives o f w h i t e c o l o n iza-

I . ()nc onl ision w i l l l i kcly calise some surprise: t h e absence o f the n u m e rous tribes belong

i ng to the i In portant Ge l i ng ll i t i c :-.tock. It i s certa i n l y not my i n t c n t i o n to take u p aga i n i n

t h e s e pages the classiflcation o f the H S A I ( I landbook o[South , 1 m erican Indjans), " h i c h assigns
to these peoples the status o f Marg i n a l s , when i n tac t t h e i r ecology, o f which agric u l tu r e is
a p a r t , should assi m i l ate t h e m to t h e c u l tural reg i o n o f the Tro p i c a l l-orc s t . T h e s e t r i h e s
Jre n o t touched upon i n t h i s essay prec i s e l y b e c a u s e o f the e x t raord i nary c o m p l e x i ty o f
t h e i r soc i a l organization i n t o c lans, m u l t i p l e s y s t e m s o f m o i e t i e s , assoc i a t i o n s , and s o o n .
F o r t h i s reason, t h e

Ge

req u i r e a s p e c i a l s t u d y, And , moreover, i t i s not t h e l east o f t h e

Handbook's p a rado x e s to have i n corporated s o m e very ru d i m e n tary <;ocio-po i i t i c a l mock l s

i n t o t h e wel l-Jeveloped e c o l ogy of t h e Forest, w h i l e t h e Gr, whose s o c i o l o g i c a l c o m p o s i t i o n i s e x t r e m e l y r i c h , are s e e n as stagnating at a d i st i n c t l y p re-agri c u l tural leve l .

49

S O C I E T Y

A GA I N ST

T H E

S TAT E

t i o n - crystall i z e d i n a trad i t i o n whose weight was fel t heav i l y by

American i s t ethno l og y i n i t s i n fancy. Faithfu l to i t s cal l i ng , t h i s
ethnology s e l e c t e d and d i scussed probl ems i n scien t i fi c term s .
Neverth e l e s s , i t a l l owed an u n m i stakab l e persistence o f trad i tional
thought patterns to show in its solutions, a

sta te of mind

which,

unknown to t h e authors , partly determined their research perspec

tives . What i n di c a t e s t h i s state o f m i n d ? F i rs t , a certai n t y : primi
tives are generall y i ncapab l e o f achieving Hood sociological models;
n e x t , a method that caricatures t h e most c o n s p i c u o u s trait s o f the
cul tures s t u d i e d .
T h e I nca e m p i r e , br examp l e , i m pressed the early c h ro n i c l ers
i n e s s e n c e by i ts s t rong c e n tral izati o n of power and a mode o f
economic o rganization t h e n unknown . Now, these aspects o f I nca
society were trans formed by mod ern ethnology i n to totali tariani sm
in R. Karste n , 2 o r i n to social i s m in L. Baudin . 3 But a less ethno
centric s c ru t i ny o f the s o u rce material i n d u c e s u s to c o rrect these
all-too modern i m ages o f a soci ety which was , i n s p i te o f every
thing, arc h a i c ; and in a recent work , A l fred Metraux4 has pointed
u p the existence o f c e n t ri fugal forces i n Tah u a n t i n s u y u which the
Cuzco c l a n s d i d not think of resisting.
As for the Forest peo p l e s , they were not cl assed as anachronistic
cul tures; o n the contrary, in close parallel to the tendency to expand
the "Western" fea t u re s of the I nca e m p i re , the sociological struc
tures o f the Fore s t s o c i e t i e s were presen ted as all the m o re pri m i
tive, more fl i msy, l ess capab l e o f dynamism , strictly l i m i ted to
smal l ll n i t s . T h i s no d o u b t e x p l a i n s the tendency to stress the frag
mented, " s e para t i s t " l appearance of the non-Andean c o m m ll n i l a Cil'l/isation d e / 'empire Illca,

2 . R . K a rs t e n ,

3.

I . . Haud i n , I. Tmpirc

4 . A . .,,"1c t rau x .
S.

Robert

H.

.wciaJiJlc dCJ Jnu!.\.

Les Incas,

Pa r i s , Payot .

1952.

Pari s , I ns t i t u t d ' E t h n o l og i t' .

Paris, (: d i t i o n s d u Scu i l .

1928.

1961.

L o w i e . " S o lll e A s pe c t s o f Po l i t i c a l Org a n i s a t i o n A lll o n g

1) 0

the

American

I N D E P E N D E N C E

A N D

E X O G A M Y

tics, together with the inevitable correlate: a quasi-permanent state

of war. Thu s , the F o rest as a cultural habitat is presented as an
assortment of micro-societies each more or less resembl i ng the
o thers , but all at the same time hostile to one another. It is q u i te
certain that if, like Baudin , one thinks of the Guarani I n d i an as an
i n d i v i dual "whose m entali ty is that o f a child , "6 one cannot hope
to fi n d "adult" types of social organization. This sensitivity to the
ato m i s m of Indian societies is also noticeable in Koch-Grunberg
and K irchhoff - for example , i n their often excessive use of the
term " t ribe" to denote any communi ty, a practice that l eads them
to the surprising notion of tribal exogamy applied to the Tucano
tribes o f the Uaupes-Caqueta region. 7
There is no question here of tak i ng the opposite view, attempting
somehow to bring the tribes of the Tropical Forest into line with
the cul tures of the Andes. And yet i t does seem that the most
common picture o f the societies i n question i s not always accu
rate ; and i f, as Murd ock writes, "The warlikeness and atomism o f
s i m p l e societies h a v e b e e n grossly exaggerated , " S the same is
c ertain l y true o f S o u th America. Hence we are called upon to
re-examine the ethnographic material and re-evaluate the socio
political units o f the Tropical Forest , with regard to both their
nature and their i nterrel ations.
The ethnographic information is largely contained i n the monu
mental Handbook of South American indians,9 Volume I I I being d evoted
to the Forest culture s . This cultural region comprises a very large
Aborig i n e s . H ux l ey tvlemorial Lecture, 1 948, " Journal of the Royal A nthropologiwl lnstit ute of

Great Britain and Ireland, vol . L XXVI I I , parts 1 and 2 ( 1 948), pp. 1 1 - 2 4 .
6 . L . Baudin, U n e Thco(TLltie socialistc: / '1:'to t jCsuite du Paroyuay, Pari s , G e n i n , 1 9 6 2 , p. 1 4 .

7 . HSA l ,

vol . I I I , p. 780.

8. See G e o rges Peter Murdock, Social Structure, New York , Macmi l l a n , 1 9 4 9 , p . 85 .

9. See HSA l , v o l . I I I ; Robert Low i e , " I ntrod u c t i o n ."

51

SOCI E T Y

C; A I ;j ST

T H E

SrA T E

body of' trib e s , many of w h i c h belong to the three maj o r lingu istic
stock s : Tup i , Car i b , Arawak . A l l these peoples can be grouped i n a
c o m m o n c a t egory: a l t h o ugh subj ect to l oc a l vari a t i o n s , their
ecology cont<lrms to the same model . The Forest societies' mode of
subsistence i s basically agricultural , involving an agriculture limited
to gardening to be sure, but one whose product in al most evcry case
is at least as s u bstantial as that of hunting, fishing , and gathering.
hnhermore , t he plants c u l tivated arc fai rly constantly the same,
\\' ith s i m i l a r p roduction techniques and work routi n e s . I Ience, i n
this i n stance , the ecology fu rn i shes a Hry val uable basis for classi
fi cation, and o n e i s confronted w i t h a grou p of societ i e s offering,
from this standpoint, a real homogeneit y. I t is not surprising, there
f(lre , to find that the uniformity at the k\TI o f th e "infrastructure"
is ascribed to the level of the "superstructures" as well - the level ,
that is, o i the types o f social and political organizati o n . T h u s , the
most \videspread sociological model in the area under consideration
seems to b e , i l' \\T are to b e l i eve t h e general d ocumentati o n , that
of the "extended bmily." This i s the unit m oreover, that consti tutes
the p o l i t i c a l l y auto n o m o u s c o m m u n i t y, s h e l t ered by the great
communal house or mo!oca; it holds true f(lr the tribes inhabiting the
G u i anas - t ho s e o f t h e j u rua-Puru s regi o n , t h e \Vitoto , t h e Peb a ,
t h e j i varo , the n u me ro u s Tu pi tribes, and

'i O

o n . The d e m ographic

sill' o l' t hes e h o u se h o l d s m ay vary li"o ll] 40-odd t o sneral h u n d red

persons, although the o p t i m al mean appears to be situated betwecll
one and two h u n d red person s per [)JO!OUl. There arc notable e x cep
tioll'i

to

the ru le : t h e large A piaca, Guaran i , a n d Tu pinamba v i l l age'i,

w h i c h brought together u p to a thousand i n d i vidual s .

B u t t h i s ra ises a twof()ld series o f pro b klll s . Thc fi rst d i ffi c u l t \
has to d o w i t h t h e

{w ( u rc

o f the 'ioc io-po l i t ical u n i ,'i o f the Trop

ical Fore s t . T h c i r ,oc i o l ogical charac t e ri/atioll as c o n l lll u n i t i n

cons t i t ut ed b y all c x t e ll d ed bmi l v does not tal l y \\ itll t h eir Ill e an
-

d e m ogra p h i c s i l l' . I n 11Ct , Lowie h o l d s t o K i rc h h o H's d e fi n i tion

1 N D E P E N D E N C E A N D E X OGA M Y

of t his type of social o rganizat ion : 1 0 i t refers to a g roup consisting

of a man, his wife - or wivcs if he is polygynous, his sons and their
wivcs if the postmarital residence is patrilocal, his unmarried daugh
ters, and tht' children of his sons. If the rule of residence is matri
local, a man is surrounded by his daughters and their husban ds,
his unmarried sons, and the children of his daugh ters . Bot h types
of extended family e xist in the Forest habitat, the second being
less com mon than the first and clearly predominating only in t he
Guianas and the Jurua-Purus region. The difficulty comes fro m
t h e fact that a n extended family, defined

strictu sensu,

could not

attain t he usual size of the Forest communi ties, that is, around a
hund red persons. An extended family actua l l y includes only three
generations of relatives connected in direct line ; and what is more,
as Kirchhoff makes clear, 1 1 a process of seg mentation s ubjects the
extended family to a perpetual transformation that p reven ts it from
going beyond a certain population level. Consequently, i t is not
possible for the socio-political uni ts of the Forest to b t' made up
of a

sin g le ex tt'nded family and at the same time to g roup toget her

a hundred p t'rsons or more . I t mus t be admitted, therefore, if t h t'

contradiction is t o b e eliminated, that either the flgures p u t forward
art' inexact or else an e rror was co mmitted in identifying the type
of social organi za tion. And as it is surely easier to be mistaken
about the " dimensions" of a society than abou t its nature, it is the
latter that needs to be examined .
The Indian community of tht' Forest is described, as we have
seen, as a s l' l fcontained unit with pol i tical independence as one
of i ts essential characteristics . Thus there would be throughout
this i m mense area a mul t i tu de of set tlements, each existing f() r
itself, t h e relations betv\Ten them very often mutuall y antagonistic,

1 0 . See
I I.

LCimhrift fur FthnoJogie, vo l .

Sec l l e rbcrt K i rc h hoff,

LXl l l

( 1 9 3 1 ),

PI"

Venewela, B u enos A i re s ,
53

8 5 -1 9 3 .
1 9 5 6 , C h a p . 4.

S O C I E T Y

A GA I N ST

T H E

S TA T E

that is , warlike . And it is at this point that the second difficulty

emerges . For, besides the fact that generally primitive societies
are wrongly condemned to a fl"agmentation thought to reveal a
"primitiveness" that would appear in th e political domain alone ,
the ethnological status of the Indian peoples of the Tropical hlrest
exhibits an additional peculiarity : if t hese peoples are in f1ct
grouped vvithin a distinct cultural unit , it is to the precise extent
that they are different from the other non-Andean peoples , that is
the so-called marginals and submarginals . 1 2 The latter are cultur
ally defined by the nearly general and complete absence of agri
culture . Hence , t hey consist of no madic groups of hunters ,
fishermen , and gatherers: Fuegians , Patagonians , Guayaki , and the
like . It is evident that these peoples can exist only in small groups
scattered over vast territories . But this vital need to scatter no
longer plagues the rorest people since , as sedentary growers , they
are able , so it seems , to bring into play sociological models very
different from those of their less favored marginal neighbors . Is it
not strange to see a nomadic ty pe of social organization and an
ecology of food growers coexist in one and the same general group ,
especially as the growers' capabilities fe)f transport and travel by
river navigation would allow them to intensify "external" rela
tions? Is it r eally possible for the benefits - enormous in some
respects - of agriculture and sedentary lite to vanish in such a
manner? That ecologically marginal peoples might be capable of
inventing highly refined sociological models o ffers no impossi
bility : the Boruro of central Brazil , with their clan organi/ation
cut across by a double system of moieties , or the Guaycuru of the
Chaco , with their hierarchy of castes , are cases in point. Rut the
converse , wher eby agricultural peoples would be organi / cd
according to marginal schemes , is harder to imagine . I knee the
1 2.

1 1.1. 1 1 .

w I . V, PI" 669H.

1) 4

I N D E P E N D E N C E

A N D

E X O G A M Y

question arises of knowing w hether the political isolation of each

community is a feature that is relevant to the ethnology of the
Tropical Fo rest.
But w hat is wanted first is to explain the natu re of t hese
communties. That this nature is in fact problematical seems to be
clearly indicated by the terminological ambiguity found repeat
edly throughout the

Handhook.

If , in Volume I I I , Lowic calls the

most prevalent socio-pol itical unit of the area an "extended fam i l y, "
Stewart , i n Volume V, calls it a "lineage, " thus suggesting the inade
quacy of the term proposed by Lowie. But while the units in ques
tion are too "populous " to be made up of a single extended family,
it cloes not appear that we a re in the presence of lineages in the
strict sense either, i.e. , groups with unilineal descent. In South
America , and part icularly in the Tropical Fo rest area , b ilateral
descent actually seems to p redominate. The possession of more
varied and complete genealogies would perhaps enable us to ascer
tain whether it is a matter of several instances of unilineal organi
zation. But the material currently available does not permit us to
assign t his latter type of organization to any but a small number of
Forest societies: peoples of the Para region (the Mundurucu and
the Maue) or of the Uaupes-Caqueta (the Cubeo , the Tucano , and
so fo rth).
Nor, obviously, is it a matter of kindreds: the postmarital resi
dence , which is neve r neolocal , serves to determ ine the composi
tion of the units , from the mere fact that with each generation ,
and supposing that the sex ratio is statistically in equilibrium , one
half of the siblings (either the b rothers where residence is matri
local , or the sisters where it is patrilocal) leave the com Illu nity of
orig in and go to live in the spouse's community. In a sense then ,
the rules of marriage assign the g roup an e ffective unilineality, even
if it is not culturally recognized by the group's members , since
the latter happen to be consanguineous relatives in matrilineal or

SO C I E T Y

A G A I NST

T H E ST A T E

patri lineal d es c e n t , d e p e n d i ng on the rul e of res i d e n c e adopted .

No doubt that i s what decided S tewart to i d e n t i fy the sociolog
ical units of the Forest as l i n eage s . I t is appropriate , however, to
note that if the n o t i o n o f the e x tended fami l y falls short, fai l ing to
account for a l arge part o f th e concrete real ity o f th e s e gro u p s , the
notion o f l i n eage , for its part , imputes to them a certai n number
of features they obviousl y do not possess. For a true l i neage impl i es
a descent that i s articulated accord i ng to a u n i l ineal m o d e , w h i l e
here i t i s b i lateral i n the maj ority of cases ; and , most i m p o rtan t ,
the fact o f b e l o ng i ng to the u n i l i neal t y p e o f grouping i s i ndepen
dent of the p l ac e o f resi d e n c e . Hence , i n order for the communi
ties of the Trop i cal Forest to be the eCluivalent o f l i neages, all thei r
m embers ,

maJo[Q

including

t h o s e whom marri age has removed from the

i n which they were born , wo uld have to conti n u e to be a

part of the respective c o m m u n i t i e s , on the same f<)ot i ng w i th the

others. That is, the pos tmari tal residence wou l d not ch ange their
social stat u s .
Now t h e units i n q u estion are pri mari l y res idential , and a change
of re s i d e n c e i n d e e d seems to e n t a i l a change of m e m b e rsh i p , or at
l east a break in the statu s held prior to marri age . What is invol ved
h e re is a c l a s s i c prob l e m of eth n o l og y : that o f the relati onsh i p
between a ru l e o f res i d e n c e a n d a m o d e of d e s c e n t . I n p o i n t o f
fact , i t i s e v i d e n t that a patri l ocal ru le of res i d e nce, fo r e x am p l e ,
i s o f a sort to strongly favor the estab l i s h m e n t ofa patri l i neal mode
of descent , which is to say, a l i neal structure w i th a harmonic regi m e .
B u t no i n e l u c tabl e m e c h a n i s m i s at work i n th i s , there i s no cate
gorical i m p e rat i v e to go fro m the rule o f res i dence to that o lf l l i a
t i o n ; there is s i m p l y a poss i b i l i ty depend i ng largel y on the concrete
h i storical c i rc u m stanc e s , a s trong poss i b i l i ty to be s u r e , b u t s t i l l
i n s u Hl c i e n t t o a l l ow f<lr a c l o se i d e n t i f1 cat i o n o f t h e g ro u p s , s i n c e
the determ i na t i o n of m e mbers h i p can not be m a d e " free" o f the
ru l e of re s i d en c e .

I N D E P E N D E N C E

A N D

E X O G A M Y

I f, therefore, i t cannot be a matter of true lineages , that must

not be allowed to mask the very real activity - one that perhaps
has not received enough attention - of a twofold dynamic process
which, although permanently interrupted by the Conquest, appears
to have been gradually transforming the Tropical Forest commu
nities precisely into l ineages . The first component of t h i s process,
which will be d iscussed below, concerns the mutual relati ons o f
t h e different u n i t s ; the second o perates within each unit taken
separately and relates to the unilocality of residence. Again , it should
be rem arked that what is involved is real l y o n l y a s i ng l e pro
cess - but with a double impetus, external and i n ternal , whose
effects ( far from cancelling one another) ampli fy and rein force one
another, as I shall try to show.
I s it possible , after thi s survey of the reasons that p revent u s
from regarding t h e units of the Tropical Forest as extended fami
lies or as lineage s , to assign them a positive denomination? Now
that we know what they are not and are fam i liar with some of
their basic distinguishing features, the difficulty comes down finally
to a simple question of terminology: what are we to call these
communities? They comprise from one to two hundred persons
on the average; their system o f descent i s generall y bilateral ; they
practice local exogamy, and the postmarital residence is either
patrilocal or matrilocal , so that a certain "rate" o f u n i l i neality is
evidenced. Henc e , we are dealing in this instance with veritab l e
cxogamic dem es. i n M urdock's sense of the term , 1 3 that i s , w i th
p r i m ar i l y resid e n t i a l u n i t s , b u t w h e r e the e x ogamy a n d t h e
unilocali ty o f residence contradict, to a certain exten t , the bil at
erali ty of descen t , giving these units t h e appearance o f l i neages
or even clan s .
What about the composition of these demes then? If the commuJ 3 . See M u rdoc k . Social Structure.

57

S O C I ET Y

A GA I N S T

T H E S T A TE

nities, i nstead of b e i ng demes, amounted to extended fami l i es as

K i rchhoff and Low i e sugges t , t h e question would be somewhat
academi c . B u t , as we h ave seen, the demographic facts m ake this
hypothesis untenabl e . Yet that does not mean this model o f social
organization does not exist i n the Tropical Forest: it simply ceases
to have the same bounds as the l ocal community i ts e l f, which
e x tends wel l b eyond it. The model holds fi rm in the cul tures of
the Forest, but loses i ts qual i fication as a maximum , so to speak ,
in order to become the minim um component of social o rgan iza
tion: that i s , each deme consists of a pluralitv of e x tended fam i l i e s ;
a n d these, far fro m being unrelated t o o n e another and m erely
j ux ta p o s e d w i th i n the s a m e g r o u p i n g , are , o n the c o n trary,
connected i n a patri- or matri l i n eal descent l i n e . Furthermore,
this makes i t possible to infer that, contrary to what K i rchholThas
written , the geneal ogical depth of these units exceeds three genera
tions, even i f the I n d i ans have no prec i se recollection of these
ties. Thus we again encounter the previously di sclosed tendency
to unili neali ty.
I n th i s regard i t i s reasonable to think that t h e most c o m m o n
type o f d wel l i ng in the area, t h e great comm unal house o r maloca ,
e x presses this basic d i mension on the plane o f spatial d i stri b u
t i o n . As fo r the q u e s t i o n o f t h e n u m ber of e x tended fam i l ies that
constitute a d e m e , i t obvi ously depends on the s i ze of the u n i t s :
we could nevertheless esti mate i t at three or b u r Ic)r t h e smallest
groups ( 40 to 6 0 persons: an A i ari River comm unity i nclu ded 40
persons ) , and at 1 0 o r 12 fe)r the largest ( 1 00 to 200 persons : a
Mangeroma community in the Jurua-Purus numbered 2 5 8 pnsons ),
supposing that each e x tended fam i l y bri ngs together bctween 1 :;
and 20 person s .
To speak o f these d el11 c s a s soci o-po l i tical units i m p l i es that
they fu nction w i th i n the uni tary scheme o f "organic" total i t i e s ,
and that the i n tegration of the component elem ents i s profound :
,

I N D E P E N D E N C E

A N D

E X O GA M Y

something conveyed by the existence of an "espri t de c o rps" acting

as the group's self-consciousness , and by a p e rm a n e n t s o l i darity o f
its members. In t h i s sense K . Oberg is correct i n seeing these c o l l ec
t i v i t i e s as "homogeneous soc i e t i e s " , t h a t i s , w i t h n o s o c i al strati
fication or horizon tal segmentation . 1 4 The c l e avages that affect
them are those of s e x , age , and k i n s h i p l i n e s : and the coalescence
j us t a l l uded to i s e x p ressed i n the nearly always c o l l ec t i v e c har
acter of the activ i t i e s essential to t h e l i fe o f t h e g ro u p : b u i l d i ng
the h o u s e , c l earing garden p l o t s , the work of harve s t i ng , r e l i g i o u s
l i fe , a n d s o forth .
I s t h i s homoge n e i ty met w i t h aga i n as an i n t egral feature at a l l
l e v e l s o f social e x i s t e n c e ? An affi rmative repl y wou l d lead to the
i d e a that archa i c s o c i e t i e s are , i pso fac t o , s i m p l e s o c i e t i e s , and
that d i ffe rences or c o n fl i c t are absent from t h e i r s o c i o l og y. Now
this possib i l i ty seems estab l i shed at l east in one d o m ai n : that of
p o l i t i c a l authori t y. B u t w e k n ow, o n the o n e h a n d , t h a t e a c h
community i s adm i n i s tered b y a chi ef; and , on the other, t h a t each
e l e m e n t of the structure, each extended fam i l y that i s , a l s o h a s i t s
leader, t h e eldest m a n as a rul e . I n appearance this poses no problem:
for reasons e x p l a i n e d elsewhere there is no " race f(H power" in
these societies; furthermore , the inheritance of the p o l i ti c a l o ffi c e
s e e m s to l ay a l l q u e s t i ons to res t . Ye t the fac t r e m a i n s t h a t , far
fro m being indivisible, as it were , authority does divide and becomes
m u l ti p l e ; that by retaining i ts own l eader each e x t e n d e d fam i l y
t h e reby e x presses i ts " w i l l " to maintai n - i n a way that m ay o r
m a y not be emphati c - i ts identi ty. This releases forces w i t h i n t h e
gro u p that may b e d iverge n t . O f course, t h i s trend d o e s n o t go so
far a s t o threaten t o d i s i n tegrate the g ro u p , and i t i s preci s e l y at
this j u ncture that the chi efs maj o r function i n terv en e s : h i s j ob as

1 4 . K a l e rvo Oberg, "Ty pe s o f Social Structure Among t h e L o w l a n d Tri b e s o f S o u t h a n d

C e n tral ,\ m e r i c a , "

American I n thmpo/0!l iIt,

v o l . LV I I , n o .

59

(june 1 9 5 5 ), pp , 472-S7,

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N S T

T H E

S TAT E

peacemaker, as an " i ntegrator" of d i Herences. Thus tbe social struc

t u re of the g ro u p and t h e structure of its power are seen t o rati fy,
attrac t , a n d c o m p l e t e o n e another, eacb fi n d i ng in the o t h e r t h e
m eaning o f i ts own necessi t y and its own j u sti fication : i t is becau se
there is a c e ntral i n s t i t u t i o n , a pri nci pal l eader e x pre s s i ng the real
e x i stence of the c o m m u n i t y - and this e x i stence is e x perienced
as a u n i fi ca t i o n - t h a t t h e c o m m u n i ty can perm i t itse l f, as it wen: ,
a certain q u a n t u m o f c e n tr i fugal force that is actu a l i z e d in each
group's t e n d e n c y t o p reserve i t s i n d i v i d u a l i ty.
Conversel y, t h e m u l ti p l i c i t y of d ivergent trends legiti m ates t h e
u n i fying activity o f the main chieftainsh i p . T h e equ i l i b ri u m within
t h e dual i s m o f t h e peri pheral and focal , a prorl l l c t of c onstant eHort,
s h o u l d n o t b e c o n fu s e d w i t h t h e s i m p l e h o m ogene i t y o f a w h o l e ,
m ore appropriate to a geometrical arrangement of parts than t h e in
ventiveness i m m anent to culture. For ethnological i n q u i ry this means
a n al y z i ng t h e s t r u c t u ra l r e l a t i o n s h i ps b e tween t h e v a ri o u s s u b
gro u p s , between t h e s u bgro u p s a n d t h e c h i e fta i n sh i p , w i th a l l t h e
i n trigues, tensions, res i s tances ( apparent o r n o t ) , and understandi ngs
( l as t i ng o r n o t ) i m p l i c i t in t h e c o n c rete deve l o p m e n t o r a s o c i e ty.
T h u s , we s e e d i sc l o s e d t h e l a t e n t and s o m e w h a t fu rt i ve pres
ence o f diffe ren ces a n d t h e i r u l t i mate pote n t i a l fi) r open c o n fl i c t ; a
pre s e n c e t h a t i s n o t e x ternal to t h e n a t u re of t h e g ro u p b u t , on
the c o n t rary, is a d i m e n s i o n o f c o l l e c t i ve l i fe enge n d e red by the
s oc i a l s t r u c t u re i ts e l f. T h i s takes u s far fro m t h e neat s i m p l i c i t y o f
a rc h a i c s oc i e t i e s . A ca refu l a n d pro l o nged observat i o n o f pri m i
t i ve soc i e t i e s wou l d s h ow that they arc no more i m mediately trans
pare n t than our o\\' n ; and a s t u d y l i ke that c o n d u c t e d by B u e l l
Q u a i n o f t h e Tru m a i o f t h e u pper X i ngu h e l ps g i ve t h e l i e t o t h i s
e t h n o c e n t r i c pre c o n c e p t i o n . ! \ Pr i m i t i ve soc i e t i es , l i k e We s t e rn
1 5 . Set' R . M u r phy a n d

Il.

Qua i n . I h e

]ru n",i

Indians ,,! Cen tral llrm'/,

! ') 5 5 .

60

Nt"

York , J .-J . ;\ugll s t i n ,

I N D E P E N D E N C E

A N D

E X O G A M Y

soc ieties, are perfectly capable of hand ling the poss i b i l i ty o f d i ffer
ence within identi ty, of otherness i n homogene i t y ; a n d i n their
rej ection of the mechanistic can be read the sign of their creativi ty.
Such , then, appears to be the shape - perhaps more fai thhd to
the reali ty - of these Indian societies strung along the entire immen
sity of the Amazon bas i n : they are exogamic demes made up o f a
few extended fam ilies j oined by matri l ineal or patri l ineal descent.
And although they exist and function as genui n e uni ts , they none
theless allow the i r elements a certain "play." But ethnographic
tradi ti o n has placed h eavy emphasis on the self-suffi c i e ncy, the
poli tical i ndependence of these commun i t i e s , on the separati s m
of I nd i an cultures . Had we accepted i t we would be d ea l i ng w i th
small societies liv i ng as though in a cl osed vessel , relat i vely hostile
to one another, and cstablishing their mutual relations i n the frame
work of a very cl c vcloped modcl of war. This v i ew o f their " foreign
relati ons , " i f i t can b e put that \\ ay, i s closely bound u p w i th the
image o f their nature fi rst proposed. And as an examination o f the
l atter l e d us to conclusions that were appreciably d i fferent, an
anal ysis of their "being-together" i s cal led fo r: that i s what we
w i l l turn to now.
One fact must be acknowledged immediate l y : t h e great m aj ority
o f these peoples prac t i ce local exogamy.
I t i s d i fficult , no doubt, to establ ish absolutely, that is, on the
bas i s of proven facts, the generality o f this i nstitut i o n . For while
t h e t e c h n o l og y a n d even t h e m y t h o l og y of n u m e rous South
A m erican tribes arc often \Yell known to us , unfortu nately, the
same thing cannot be said about their sociology. And yet , h O\\ever
sketchy and sometimes contradi c tory the usabl e i n format i o n may
b e as to the ncar-uni versal ity of local exogamy, certain data make
possible at least extreme probab i l i t y, i f not absolute certa i n t y.
Generall y speaking , the number of peoples about whom we possess
valid i n f()rmation i s very small compared to the total number of
61

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

S TAT E

ethnic groups accounted for. By making use of the material collected

in the Handhook ( Volume I I I ) and i n the Outline of South /lmerican
Cultures by G. M u rdock, we can estimate the number o f ethnic
groups belongi ng to the Tropical Forest area at appro x imately 1 30 .
But preci s e facts regard i ng the status of marriage are only given
for 32 tribes, or around one-fourth of the total . Now, of these 3 2
tribes, 2 6 are presented a s practicing local exogamy, while the
remaining 6 are composed of endogamous communi t i e s .
T h i s means t h a t local exogamy i s present i n three-fo urths o f
t h e tribes for w h i c h w e possess concrete data. I Ience, there remain
a hundred tribes whose marriage rules are unknown to us, at least
from thi s stand point. But it can be assumed that the proportion o f
exogamous a n d end ogamous tribes occurri ng among the known
tribes stay s about the same for the unknown tribes: that leads us
to acc ept, not as a certainty ( the latter is forever beyond our grasp
since a large part of the Ind ian tribes has d isappeared ) , but as a
partly veri fied hypoth es i s , the i dea that at least three-f(lUrths o f
t h e people s oi the Trop ical Forest practice local exogamy. I t should
be men tioned , in addi tion, that some ethnic groups clearly iden
t i fI ed as endogam ous ( for example, the Siri ono, the Bacairi , and
the "lap i rapc ) are groups that are small i n n u m ber o r i s o l ated i n
t h e m i d st o f c u l turally d i flerent peopl es. And lastly, it i s appro
priate to remark that the tribes in which local exogamy is confi rmed
belong to the pri n c i pal l i ng u i stic fam il ies of the Forest ( A rawak ,
Carib , Tu p i , C h ibcha, Pan o , Peba, etc . ) , and that, far from bei ng
local i zed , they are spread ac ross the entire area, from eastern Peru
( the Amahuaca and Yagua tribes ), the Guianas ( the Yecuana tribes ) ,
a n d Bol i v i a ( th e Tacana tribes ) .
I f o u r statistical scrutiny o f the tri bes o f the Tropical Forest
proves the l i keli hood o f the vast com pass o f local e x ogamy, the
latter i n a great number o f cases i s even present o f necessi ty, given
the nature o f the communi ty. Should a single ma/oca house the
62

I N D E P E N D E N C E

A N D

E X O G A M Y

entire group , the members composing i t m u t u a l l y acknowledge

one another as real c o nsanguineous kin when the group i s made
up o f one or two e xtend e d fami l i e s , and as fi c t i t i o u s o r c l a s s i fi ca
tory consanguines when the group is more substantial . In all cases ,
the people l i vi ng toge ther in the same

rna /ow

are c l o s e l y related

among themselve s ; hence, we can e x pect to fi n d a prohi b i t i o n o f

marriage within the group, that is, the prescription o f l ocal exogamy.
I ts presence is not d u e merely to one of i ts fun c t i o n s w h i c h , as we
shall see later, i s to obtain p o l i tical advantages : i t i s owing first of
all to the nature o f the communities that p ract i c e it, c o m m u n i
t i e s whose main c haracteri stic i s that they gro u p together o n l y
relatives classed as s i b l i ng s . T h i s e x c l u d e s t h e p o s s i b i l i t y o f Ego
marrying inside the group. In a word , the communi ty's res i d e n c e
i n one great h o u s e and l't s cul turall y recogni z e d m e m b ersh i p i n
the same group o f relative s estab l i s h the grou p s o f t h e Trop i cal
rorest as sociological u n i t s b etween which exchanges take p l a c e
and alliances are arrang e d : ex ogamy, which i s both precon d i t i o n
a n d mean s , i s essential to t h e structure o f t h e s e u n i t s a n d to t h e i r
preservation a s such. A n d , in fact, t h e local character o f t h i s exogamy
i s merely continge n t , since it is a consequence of the geogra p h i c
distance separating the communities. When the latter move closer
to each other and e x i s t s i d e by s i d e to form a v i l l age , as happens
among the Tu pi peopl e s , e x ogamy d o e s not d i sappear t h o ugh it
:
ceases to be local . It c hanges into l i n eage exogamy.
From the outset , then, an opening i s estab l i sh e d to the outs i d e ,
t o t h e other com m u n i t i e s . Now, t h i s opening j eopardi z e s the too
frequently asserted principle o f absolute autonomy for each u n i t .
I t would b e surpris i ng i f groups engaged i n t h e exchange o f women
( wh e r e r e s i d en c e i s p a t r i l o c a l ) o r o f s o n s - i n - l a w ( wh e r e i t i s
matri local ) - that i s , i nvolved i n a positive relation v i tal t o the e x i s
t e n c e of every gro u p a s s u c h - were to s i m u l taneou s l y c h a l l e nge
the positive nature o f this link by asserting e x treme independence.

SOC I E T Y

A G A I NST

T H E ST A T E

T h i s i nd e p e n d e n c e - q u e s t i onab l e because so much i m p ortance

has been attached to it - would have a negative value since it implies
a m u tual h o s t i l i ty that can q u i ck l y develop i n t o war. O f course
there is n o q u e s t i o n o f d e n y i ng that these commun i t i e s l e a d a
completely autonomous existence in some basic respects: economic
and rel i g i o u s l i fe , i n ternal p o l i tical o rganizati o n . B u t besides the
fac t that this a u t o n o m y remains partial , the general ized presence
of l ocal e x og a m y makes the total i ndependence of each commu
n i t y i m p o ss i h l e .
T h e e x c h ange o f women fro m

rna /oca

to

rna /oca , hy es tabli s h i ng

close k i n s h i p t i es bet\\"een e x tended fam i l i es and demes i nstitu tes

p o l i tical r e l at i o n s . T h e s e are not al ways e x pl i c i t and co d i fi e d , b u t
they preven t n e i g h b o ri ng g r o u p s a l l i e d through marriage fro m
regard i ng o n e a n o t h e r as ou tright fo reigners o r i n deed as avowed
e n e m i e s . H e n c e , as an a l l i ance of fam i l i e s , and beyond that , o f
d e m e s , marri age c o n tributes towanl s i nc o rporat i ng c o m m u n i ties
into a who l e , c ertai n l y o n e that i s very d i ffu s e and fl u i d , but s ti l l
defi ned b y a n i m p l i c i t s y s t e m o f m u t ual rights and obl igat i o n s ;
b y a s o l i d a r i t y t h a t i s reveal e d w h e n req u i red by grave s i tu a t i o n s .
The com m u n i ty h a s the assu rance that in the eve n t o f /f)()d shortage
or , m n e d attac k , ff) r i n stanc e , i t i s s u rro u n d ed b y a l l i e s and rela
t i v e s , not h o s t i l e s t range rs. The \\" i d l' n i ng of the po l i t i c a l horizon
to i n c l u d e m o re than a s i n g l e c o m m u n i ty docs not depend so l e l y
o n t h e c o n t i nge n t e x i s t e n c e o f fi'i en d l y gro u ps l i v i ng n e arby : i t
re k rs to e a c h g ro u p's p r e s s i ng n eed to p rov i d e lo r i ts s e c u r i t y
by t<mn i ng a l l i a n c e s .
A n o t h e r fac t o r works toward s estab l i s h i ng t h i s sort of m u l t i
com m u n i ty s truc t u r e . I t i s true that l ocal e x ogamy c Hec t s a classing
of poss i h l e s p o u s e s s u c h that t h e o n l y ac c e s s i b l e s e x u a l partn ers
b e l ong to u n i t s d i lk rc n t fro m that o f Ego . B u t t h e c o m b i n e d
n u mber o f these partn e rs i s i n fact l i m i ted , s i n c e o n l y a m i n ority
o f t h e m fal l i n t h e category o f pre fe re n t i a l spouses: i n rea l i ty, the

I N D E P E N D E N C E

ru l e of cross-cousin

A N D

E X O G A M Y

marriage appears to overlay that o f local e x ogamy.

So that male Ego's probabl e or preferab l e w i fe w i l l be n o t o n l y a

woman residing in a maloca other than his own , b u t also the daughter
o f his mother's brother o r o f h i s fathe r's s i s t e r. T h i s m ea n s the
e x change of wo men cloes n o t come about b e t \\Ten u n i t s that are
i n i t i a l l y " i n d i ffe ren t " to one another, but rather between g r o u p s
wove n i n to a network of close kinship ties, eHe'n i f, as is very l ik e l y
the case, this k i n s h i p i s m o re classi ficatory than rea l . H e n c e the
k i n s h i p r e l a t i o n s h i p s a l re a d y e s t ab l i s h e d and l o c a l e x og a m y
c o m b i n e their effe c t s i n order t o d raw each u n i t o u t o f i t s s i n g u
l ari ty, by elaborating a ,:nlem that transcends each o f i t s e l e m e n t s .
()ne may wonder, h owenT, w h a t deep i n t e n t i o n i s b e h i n d the
p rac tice of l ocal e x ogamy; i f i t is s i m p l y a matter of s an c t i o n i ng
the i ncest taboo by preventing marriage between co-resid en t s , that
i s , be tween relativ e s , the means may seem d i s proporti onate to
the end s . Since each

mc'/oca

houses at l east one h un d r e d persons

on the a\"lrage , all rel atives i n theory, t h e bilateral nature of descent

pre c l udes the comprehensive and precise rec o l l e c t i o n o f genea
logical connections which alone wou l d perm i t an e x a c t d e te r m i
nati on of degrees o f k i n s h i p , something possible only w h e n d e scent
i s u n i l i n eal . A man b e l onging to e x tended fam i l y "A" c o u l d m a rry
a woman o f the same

mciloco as he but belonging to extended

fam i l y

" 13 " a n d s t i l l n o t run the e x p ress risk of c o m m i t t i ng the a b s o l u t e

transgre s s i o n , since i t m i g h t v e r y wel l be i m p o s s i b l e to prove t h e

e x i stence of a non-fi c t i t i o u s k i n s h i p t i e b e t w e e n man "A" a n d
woman " B ." Thus the function o f l ocal exogamy i s not n e g a t i v e ,
to s t rengthen the i n c e s t tab o o ; but p o s i t i v e , t o c o m p e l r e s i d e n t s
to contract marriage outside the community o f orig i n . Or, i n other
words , the mean i ng o f l ocal e x ogamy l i es i n i t s fu n c ti o n :

it is the

means for entering into political alliances.

Is it possible to esti mate the number o f c o m m u n i ti e s t h a t may
f()rm such a network o f a l l i an c e s ? The al m o s t c o m p l e t e l a c k o f

S O C I E T Y

A GA I N ST

T H E

S TAT E

documents on t h i s p o i n t appears t o bar attempts a t a reply, even a

rough e s t i m a t e . A n d ye t , perhap s , certain data w i l l allow us to
arrive at a probab l e figure , or rather place i t somewhere between
a minimum and a maxim u m .
I f l o c a l e x ogamy were permanently estab l ished only between
two c o m m u n i t i e s , we wo u l d b e d e a l i ng w i th a true system of
complementary e x ogami c moieties. But as this type of social orga
nizati o n , pract i c a l l y u n i versal among the Ge t ri b e s , was i m ple
m ented only very rare l y by the peoples o f the lropical Forest,
w i th the e x c e p t i o n o f the M u n durucu and the Tucano , i t i s very
probabl e that matrimonial e x changes took place b etween three
c o m m u n i t i e s at l ea s t . It s ee m s , therefore , that we can take this
figure as a m i n i m u m . If we further accept the idea that the specific
socio-po l i ti c a l - a n d ecological , too, no doubt - models of the
Tro p i c a l Forest c u l tu res achi eved thei r m o s t e x e m p l ary d evelop
ment among c e rta i n peoples bel onging to the Tupi gro u p , we can
reasonably suppose that these latter reached the m a x i m u m poli t i cal
spread we are l oo k i ng fo r. Now Tu p i nam ba and G u a rani v i l l ages
are k n o w n to have c o n s i sted o f from fo ur to eight large c o l l ective
houses. These were genu i n e vil lages, which is to say, groups concen
trated in a l i m i t ed terri tory, w h i l e the other peoples of the area
l i ved in c o m m u n i t i e s that were some t i m e s very fa r apart. We can
take the great e r or l es s e r pro x i m i ty o f the

maJoca

as i n d i cating a

d i fference at t h e l evel of s o c i a l and pol i t i ca l o rgan i za t i o n .

I t s e e m s p o s s i b l e , t h e r e fo re , to d e s c r i b e the d i s t i ng u i s h i ng
features o f t h i s area's m o s t no teworthy type of social organization .
Heari ng i n m i nd the n a t u re of the u n i t s as d i scussed above , we
w i l l cal l t h e s e m ega-u n i ts o f three to eight l o cal c o m m u n i t i e s

poiydemic structures,

the Tu p i hav i ng fu rn i shed t h e hest i l l u strati o n

of these. T h u s , instead o f t h e trad itional, "tachist" picture of myriads

of gro u p s both fearful of and h o s t i l e to o n e another, we see the
slow labor of uni fyi ng forces inval idating the hypothetical atomism
66

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A N D

E X O G A M Y

o f these cultures . T h i s i s accomplished by gro u p i ng them into

collectivities whose s i ze varies; but i n any case, these groupings
dissolve the facile i m age of societies whose egocentrism and aggres
siveness wou l d attest to a state of infancy.
Thus far these c u l t u res h ave been viewed fro m the standpoint
o f structure o n l y, that is, w i t h o u t any r e fe r e n c e t o a p o s s i b l e
diachronic dimensio n . However, i t has become evident during our
study o f the nature o f the communities that w h i l e they are not
lineages , that is, strictly unilineal organizations but rather exogamic
de mes , several factors can contribute t o the gradual trans forma
tion of these b i lateral demes i nto u n i lineal descent gro u p s . These
factors are of two kinds: some are i mmanent to the very structure
o f the deme, others act at the l evel of i nterd e m i c p o l itical rela
tions. But all h ave a p art in initiating not a h istory in the strict
sense, certainly, but rather a dynamiC whose motion i s adapted to
the extremely slow rhythms o f l i fe i n these soci e t i e s .
As we h ave s e e n above , co-residence creates the pri v i l eged tie
between inhabitants of the same maloca that makes them relatives.
F u rthermore , the p o stmarital residence being d efined as e i th e r
patri-or matri l ocal , the inevi table effect i s to strongly reinforce
relations of affection and solidarity between relatives descending
patri- o r matril i ne al l y. I n the case of patril o c a l res i d e n c e , for
example , Ego , born i n the same house as h i s father and h i s paternal
grandfather, will himself spend his whole l i fe there in the company
of his patril ineal k i n , that i s , h i s grandfather's brothers and their
male descendents.
The permanent structural element which serves as the frame
work o f the deme, and around which collective l i fe is o rgani z e d ,
consists of a patri l ineal descent group a n d i t alone, since Ego's
matrilateral kin w i l l remain , if not entirely u nknown to h i m , at
l east much more removed . As a matter o f fact , male Ego's mother
comes fro m a community which , even though l i nked to that o f

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

STAT E

h i s father by kinshi p , will always be a rather alien group for Ego ,

one he will come into contact with only on rare occasions. The
tie between Ego and his matrilateral kin will greatly depend on
the distance that s eparates the houses o f their parents. If i t takes a
walk of several clays or even several hours to get fro m one to the
o ther, contact with the mother's descent group will be no more
than i n te rm i t t e n t . Now the maJoea arc ordi narily c o n s t ru c ted
at considerable d istances from each oth er, and hence i t is almost
exclusively to the g roup o f patril i n eal relatives that Ego "vi I I feel
he belongs .
In addi ti o n , these demes also contribute an important factor to
the determination of l i neage : continui ty. For, contrary to what

K i rchhoff has stated , 1 6 the community - fo r h i m an e x tended

family - i s not dissolve d upon the death or its chief, fo r t he simple
reason that the chie ftainship is n early always heredi tary, a lact noted
by K i rchholf h i mself, curiously enough . The hered i tary nature of
the pol i tical offi c e i s a su ffi c i e n t sign of t h e temporal e n d u r,1I1 c c
o f t h e soc ial structure. J\ctually, what someti mes occurs - as It)r
e x a m p l e w i t h t h e Wi t o t o - i s n o t t h e d i spe rsa l of t h e g ro u p b u t
ra t h e r t h e a b a n d o n m e n t o f t h e h o u s e "ow n e d "

bv the chief and

t h e c o n s t ru c t i o n o f a 111 0 JO((/ i n t h e i m m e d i a t e v i c i n i t y
h o u s e . T h e t r a n s m i ss i o n o f l ead ns h i p fro m b t h er to

o f t h e Ilrs t

S O I1 -

t hat is,

conti nuation i n t h e p a t r i l i n e a l d e sc e n t g ro u p t h a t c o n s t i t u te s
soc i a l stru c t ur e - e x p resses p re c ise I y t h e w i l l o f
t h e group t o m a i n t a i n i ts s p a t i o - te m po r a l u n i t y. T h e Tu p i n a m b,1
carri ed t h e i r r e s p e c t tin p a t r i l i n e a l i t y to a n e x t re m e , s i n c e a c h i l d
b o rn t o a m o t h e r b e l o n g i n g t o t h e g ro u p b u t t o a b t h e r I'r o m
o u t s i d e - o ft e n a p r i s o n e r o f war - was s w i ft l y devo u re d , w h i k
t h e c h i l d re n o f a m a n b e l o n g i n g t o t h e g ro u p w e re a ffi l i a t e d w i t h
t h e i r b t h e r's l i n eage . T h e s e v ar i oll s b c t o r s , o pera t i n g a t t h e l e v e l
i ts

t h e heart of the

1 6. Sec not" 10.

I N D E P E N D E N C E

A N D

E X O G A M Y

o f t h e i nternal o rg a n i za t i o n o f t h e d e m e , m a n i fe s t a d i s t i n c t
tendency to emphasize one of the two kinship l i n e s and ensure its
conti n u i t y ; t h e d e m e moves i n t h e d i rection o f l i n eage , a nd the
motor, so to speak , o f this dynamics i s the contrad i c t i o n between
a bilateral system o f descent and a unilocal res i d e n c e , b etween
b ilatcral l egality and the un i l i neal reality.
We know that unilocal i ty of residence does n o t necessari l y l ead
to u n i l i neal i ty of d e scent, even i f i t is a necessary condition for
the latter, as Murdock has show n , d i ffering with Low i e o n this
point. One can speak of true l i neages only i f affi l i at i o n is i n d e pen
dent o f residence . The patrilocal demes of the Tropical Forest would
be l i neages i f the women continued to b e a part o f their gro u p of
origin , even after their departure due to marriage. But as it happens,
the d i s tance between the great house s , w h i c h assures that the
woman leaves v irtually fiJ r good , p revents this tendency to o rga
nize i n to l i neages fi-om developing further, because for a woman
marriage is tantamount to d i sappearing. Hence it is possible to
say that i n all the sectors o f the Tropical Forest i n which, by v irtue
of the w i d e separati o n o f t h e maloca, the polyde m i c structures are
fluid , the tendency to l i neages cannot materiali z e .
T h e same i s n o t true w here this type of s t r u c t u r e is m o re
c lear-cut, more pronounc e d , m o r e crystal lized : the b i g Guarani
and Tupinamba v i l l ages. In them , spatial contigui t y e l i m i nates the
movem e n t o f pers o n s : all the young man does during the years of
"service" owed to his father-in-law, or the young woman when
she marri e s , i s to change maloea . Hence every i n d i v i dual rem a i n s
under the conti nual gaze o f h i s or her fami l y a n d i n d a i l y c o n tact
w i th their d escent group o f origin . Among these peoples, there
li)]" e , n o t h i ng stan d s i n the way of the convers i o n o f demes i n t o
l i neages , especially in view of the other t()rces that come to support
thi s trend . For i f the Tupi carried to completion models that are
merel y sketched o u t by the other Forest peopl e s , that i s , e ffe c t i ng

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

S TAT E

a thorough i n tegration of the socio-political units into a struc

tured whol e , it is because there were centripetal currents whose
presence i s attested by the concentrated village structure. Rut it
then must be aske d , what becomes of the units within this new
organization? Two possibilities are open here : either the tendency
to unificatio n and i ntegration i s manifested in the gradual disso
l u tion of these elemental units - or at l east a substantial reduc
tion o f their structural functions - and the resulting appearance
o f the ini tial s tage s o f social strati ficati on; or else the units hold
their ground and gain in strength .
The first possibility was realized by the peoples of northwestern
South America ( th e Chibcha and the Arawak o f the islands , for
example), consolidated under the heading of the Circum-Caribbean
cul tural area . 1 7 These regio n s , Colombia and northern Venezuela
in particular, w i tnessed the creation of a good many little "states,"
fi efdoms o ften l i m ited to one town or vall ey. There, ari s tocracies
i n control of the rel igious and military power ruled over a mass of
"plebians" and a large class of slaves taken in war agai n s t neigh
b o r i ng peopl e s . The s e c o n d possi b i l i ty appears to have b e e n
embraced by t h e Tu p i , s i nc e no social stratification e x i sted among
them . As a matter o f fact, i t i s not possible to put Tu pi namba pris
o ners of war i n the same category as a social class of slaves whose
labor power was appropriated by their masters and conquerors.
The fi rst chro n i c l ers o f Braz i l , for example, Thevet, 18 Le ry, 1 9 or
Stad en , 20 relate that the possessi o n , of one or more pri soners 0 1
w a r generated so much s o c i a l prestige fo r t h e Tu pi namba warriors
1 7.

See 1 1.';,1 1 , vol s . I V a n d V.

I R.

A . Thcvl't I c !l,c," c/

1 9 . Jean

lei

!l,,'S"ICflI, Pari s ,

<it.' Li TY, journal de hon/ . . en

2 0 , I i J n s Stad c n .

10

P. Ll . F . , 1 9 5 1 , p .

lerre de Rrcsil,

9l.

I S 5 7 , Paris, \I it i o n s de Pari'i, 1 9 C; 1 .

Writable h isloirc e t description d 'un pCly.\' . . \itu(: dans Ie Nouveau .#ondc nommt.i

Amcrh/ ue, Pari s , A. B e rtrand , 1 8 3 7 .

I N D E P E N D E N C E

A N D

E X O G A M Y

that w h e n ever food was scarc e , the l attcr preferred to go w i thout

e a t i ng rather than d e p ri ve t h e i r capti ves of nourishment. More
over, the pri soners were very soon assim i l ated i n to thei r masters'
communi ty, and the captor had n o qualms about giving his sister
o r daughter i n marriage to this l i v i ng proof o f his valor. And the
i n co rp o rat i o n proved c o m p l e te w h e n , a ft e r a period o f time that
was o ften quite long, the k i l l i ng of the p ri soner transformed h i m
i n t o ceremonial foo d for h i s maste r s .
Thus Tup i s o c i e t i e s w e r e n o t s t rati fi e d ; consequently, the d i v i
s i o n s a n d l i ne s o f force t h e y w e r e b u i l t around were the same as i n
the rest o f the area: s e x , age , k i n s h i p , and s o forth . A n d what i s
m o r e , the tighte n i ng a n d c o n tract i o n o f the general model o f
m u l ticommunity social organi zati o n , w i t h the v i l l age as its spatial
expressi o n , d i d not operate as a u n i fy i ng principle cal l i ng i n t o
q u e s t i o n the "personali ty" o f each of its e l ements, i n thi s i nstance
d e m e s ; o n the contrary, the very e m e rgence of such a centripetal
force ai m i ng at the c rystal l i zation o f a " floating" structu re caused
a symmetrical strengthe n i ng o f the c e n t r i fugal forces immanent
to the structure of demes. I n o t h e r word s , the dynamic described
here is dialectical i n nature; fo r, as the c o ns t ruction o f the system
progress i ve l y asserts and defines i t s e l f, i t s component elements
react to this change in their status by acce n tuati ng th e i r concrete
and special nature , their i nd i v i d u a l i ty. S o that the adve n t o f the
gl obal structure produces not a suppressi o n ofthe demes - an event
that wou l d make p o s s i b l e another k i n d of d i fferentiati o n , nam e l y
s o c i a l strat i fi cation - b u t a struct u ra l m o d i fication o f the u n i t s .
W h a t d i re c t i o n w i l l this tran s formation take ? T h e answer res t s
c o m p l e t e l y w i th determinations t h a t a r e characteri stic of t h e u n i t s
themselves: t h e y are basical l y k i n s h i p gro u p s . T h e n w h a t means
w i l l the l atter h ave to rem o l d themsel ves i n terms of a dcvelop
ment that renders them i d enti cal by u n i fy i ng them ? They will bring
to the fore the l atent uni l i neal i ty that is their d i s tinctive attri71

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

STAT E

bute, and w i l l center the l aw o f m e m b e r s h i p n o t on a co-residency

that ceases to be of primary i m po rtanc e , but o n the rul e o f filiatio n :
h e n c e t h e d e m e s change i n to l in e ages , a n d the transformation o f
the elements becomes bound u p w i th the constitution o f the global
structure . The Tupi peoples thus furni s h

us

w i t h an i l l ustration of

the transition from a polydemic structure to a m ultilineage structure.

D o e s t h i s mean that the l i neages appear o n l y as a reac t i o n to a
new o rgani zation of a gro u p of resi de n t i al u n i t s and i n relation to
it? It i s obvi ously not possible to m a intai n this , because resi d e n c e
a n d fi l i a t i o n do not fol l ow fiom o n e another. The tran s i t i o n i n
i t s e l f i s c o n t i ngen t , that i s , i t i s l i nked t o h i s tory and n o t to struc
ture : as for the Tupi, the cataly t i c agen c y, in what was present
only p o t e n t i a l l y and as a tendency a m o ng t h e other peoples o f the
Tropical Forest, was the anx i ety that i mpelled them to erect more
"constricted" social structures. D i fferent h i s torical processes might
very well bring about this trans i t i o n . B u t i t can b e stressed that
the m u t a t i o n of a deme into a l i n eage s t i m ul a t e s t h e i n h e r e n t

rela tional q u a l i t i es o f e a c h uni t . There a r e n o l i n eages e x c e p t i n a

" s trong" system . Conversely, the r i s e o f such a system c u l m i nates
e i ther in a s o c i al stratification that negates the structuring v a l u e
of the rul e s o f fi l i a t i o n , or else i n the c o n firmation and e v e n over
valua t i o n o f these rul e s : i t m i g h t be s a i d that l i n eage i s diacritical
in nature . I t is as i f the centripetal m o t i o n fostering p o l i tical r e la
tions in a society prev i o u s l y fl u i d , and creating i n ternal d i s e q u i
l i b ri u m , s i m u l t a n e o u s l y p r o d u c e d t h e c o u n t er v ai l i ng m e a n s .
Centrifugal forces - forces corresponding to the new situation - are
brought i n t o play at the e l emental l ev e l , and e n ab l e the s o c i e t y to
reach a new equ i librium. In the l as t analysi s , the forces " working"
on these primitive societies aim, d i rect l y or i n d i rectly, at securing
an e q u i l i b r i u m that is constan t l y endangered .
Moreover, it is certain that the Tu p i vers i o n o f the s o c i o l ogical
m o d e l typical o f the Forest does n o t lend i t s e l f to the continued

I N D E P E N D E N C E

A N D

E X O G A M Y

existence of the internal relations described at the l evel of the deme.

The em e rgence of the l ineage stru c ture , that i s , the con traction
of the geneal ogical connections by which i ts u n i tary charac ter i s
affirm e d , great l y d i m i n i shes the functional value of the suhgroups
or extended families that constitute the l i neage. That is why the rel
evant question i n the case of the Tupi i s i n terlineage relati onship s .
E a c h Tup i v i l l age c o n s i sted o f a c l u s te r averaging from fou r to
eight great h o u s e s , each s h e l tering a l i ne age and havi ng its lead e r.
B u t the v i l l age as such was under the g u i dance of a chief. The
Tup i namba c o m m u n i t y rai ses the q u e s t i o n of p o litical relatio n s
to a d egree unknown i n the rest of the Fore s t : as a m u l t i l i neage
structure , i t p rov i d e s i t s e l f w i th a "cen tralized" authority and yet
preserves the " l o c a l " subch i e ftai n s h i p s . No doubt i n response to
th i s dual ism of power, a " c o u n c i l o f e lders" was formed among
these I nd i an s , a body whose approval was necessary for the exer
cise of authority by t h e m a i n c h i e f.
The p e o p l e s o f the Tu pi-G uarani gro u p a r e set apart from t h e
o t h e r e t h n i c g ro u p s o f t h e s a m e c u l t u ra l a r e a by the grea t e r
co m p l e x i ty o f th e i r p o l itical problemati c , tied to the sometimes
immense w i d e n i ng o f th e i r hori z o n . B u t i t seems the Tu pi did not
restrict this e x pansion to estab l i s h i ng multili neage village commu
n i t i e s . In many z o n e s of the Fore s t t h e tend e n c y d evelo ped to
cons truct a model o f authority e x tending well beyond the confines
o f a s i ngl e v i l lage . We k n ow that, gen e ral l y speak i n g , intertribal
rclations were much c loser and more sustained than the emphasis on
t h e hel l i c ose spirit o f these peoples wo uld l ead us to bel ieve. Vari
ous authors , Lcvi-Strauss2 1 and Metrau x , 2 2 among others , have effec
tive l y s h own that c o m m e rc i a l e x c h anges h e tween gro u p s , some-

2 1 . C l a u d e I l' v i -St rall s s . " G u erre c t U Hl1 ID l'I"C<.' c h e /. k s i nd i e n s d l' I ' A m i' r i q u l'
RCtldi.H"dnCC, vo l . I , p a r t s I a n d

') 2 .

<lu

Sud,"

2.

:\ . Mi,tra u x , f a Cil'ili.\(/Iion materid/e des trihu., Illpl-C;uomni, Paris, P. GClI t h ni.'r, IlJ 28, p.

73

277.

S O C I E T Y

A GA I N ST

T H E

STAT E

t i m e s l ocated very far apart, were freq uently i n te n s e . Now, w i th

the Tup i , i t i s not solely a matter o f c o m m e rc i al relati o n s , but of a
real terri torial and poli tical

expansion ,

w i th some c h i e fs exerc i s i ng

authority over several villages. Let us recall the image of the famous
Tama c h i e f, Quoniambec , who made such a sharp i m p ression o n
Thevet a n d Stad e n . "Th i s K i ng was m u c h venerated by a l l t h e
Savag e s , y e a even b y those who were n o t of h i s l an d , s o good a
warri o r was he in h i s t i m e , and s o w i d e l y d i d he l ead them i n
battl e . " 2 3 These same chroni c l ers i n form u s , moreover, that the
authority o f the Tup inamba chief., was never so strong as in t i m e
o f war, their power then all but absol u te and the discipline imposed
o n th e i r troops unan i mously re s p e c te d . H e n c e the number o f
warri ors that a c h i e f could m u s t e r i s t h e b e s t i n dication o f the
extent of h i s authority. To be precise, the figures cited are at times
taking everythi ng into consi derati o n - enormous : Thevet gives a
max i m u m o f 1 2 ,000 "Tabaiarres and Margageaz" combatting one
another i n a single engagement. In a s i m i lar si tuati o n , I _ery gives a
maximum of 1 0 ,000 men and the figure 4 ,000 for a s k i rm i s h h e
w i tnessed . Foll ow i ng h i s masters i nto combat, Staden counted ,
on the occasion of a sea attack against Portuguese p o s i t i o n s , 3 8
boats contain i ng 1 8 men o n the average , or nearly 700 men for the
small v i l l age of Ubatuba alon e . 2 4 A s i t is appropriate to m u l t i p l y
the n u mber of warriors by appro x i mately fou r, in o rd e r to obtai n
the number of the total populatio n , we see there were veri tab l e
federations among t h e Tup i namba, grou p i ng together from 1 0 t o
2 0 v i l l ages . H e n c e the Tup i , a n d i n part i c u l ar those inhabi ting the
Braz i l i an coast, d i splay a very c l ear tendency towards cstabl i s h i ng
far-reaching pol i tical systems , w i th powerfu l c h i e ftain s h i p s whose
structure needs to b e analyzed . By e n larging i ts boundari e s , the

23. Ibid. ,

p.

24. Ibid.,

p. 1 7 8 ,

93.
note 2 .

74

I N D E P E N D E N C E

A N D

E X O G A M Y

field o f application o f a centrali z e d authority c reates bi tter con

flicts w i th the small local centers o f power. Thus the questi o n
arises o f t h e nature o f the relationships between the main ch ief
tainshi p and the subchieftain sh i p s : for i n stanc e, between " King"
Quoniambec and the " k i ngl e t s , his vassals."
The coastal Tup i are n o t alone in exhibiting such tendenc i e s .
To c i te a more rece n t e xample , w e call attention to the Tupi
Kawahib as well . At t h e beginning of the century o n e of their groups,
the Takwatip , e x tended its hegemony graduall y over the neigh
boring tribes, under the d i rection o f its chief, Abautara, whose
son Levi-Strauss m e t . 2 > S i m i l ar processes were observed among
the Omaglla and t h e Cocama . These \\Tre Tupi peoples occupy

i ng the m i d d l e and upper reaches o f the Amazon , among whom

the authori ty o f a c h i e f was brought to bear not only on the great
house but on the community i n its entirety: the size of the latter
could b e quite substantial , seeing that an Omagua village was said
to comprise 60 house s , each one lodging from 50 to 60 person s . 2 6
I t should be noted further that the Guaran i , culturally closely related
to the Tupinamba, also possessed highly developed chieftainships.
Rut by viewing Tu p i cul ture i n i ts poli tical dynamics as found
i ng " k i ngdoms , " i s there n o t t h e ri s k of laying t o o m u c h stress on
i ts origi nal i ty compared with the Tropical forest as a whole, assum
i ng it to be a cultural entity i ndependent o f the area i n which we
fi rst si tuated i t ? That wou l d amount to d i s regarding identical pro
cesses, though much smaller i n scal e , among peoples belongi ng
to other li ngu i stic stocks. We are rem i nded , f()r example, that the
Jivaro too presented this model of multi community organization,
since m i l i tary all iances were concluded between local grou p s : it
2 5 . Claude

1%1,

(" " i- S t rall\ ... .

C h ap. X X X I .

2 n . See

1/.1

I I,

\O J . I I I .

lri\ (C\ lrop/(fi}('\'

John I{ w,\(' 1 1 , tran..., . , N t' \\' York , Criterion Boo k ,> ,

S O C I E. T Y

A G A I i'.. S T

T H E

STAT E

i s i n thi s fashion that several jivorio - the m oJow of these I nd i ans

j o i ned fo rce s to wage ,var against the Spani s h . I n add i ti o n , the
Carib tribes of the Orinoco used local exogamy as a means to extend
pol i tical hegemony over several c om m u n i t i e s . In varying way s ,
then, the Forest reveals the tendency to estab l i sh social groupings
that are m o re \\ i de-ranging than any w h e re e l s e on the continent.
I t should not be forgotten , however, that the strength or t h i s
t r e n d varie d w i th t h e c oncrete - e c o no m i c , d e m ographi c , and
religious - c i rcumstances of the cultures in which it was m a n i
fe sted . The d i tkrence between the Tup i and the other soc i eties
\\'as not in k i nd but i n d egre e ; thi s i m p l i e s , conse{j u e ntly, that
thn were not only better abl e than the o th e rs to b u i l d on the
.

plane of soc i al structure a model o r o rga n i zation they share d . I t

also means the dynamics i mmanent to the Forest cultures aC{juired
a faster rhythm and acce l e rat i o n among the Tup i than e l s ewhere .
Granted , the Amerin dian soc ietiec were archaic , but n egatively
so , i f y o u w i l l , and then only in relation to o u r E u ropean criteri a .
I s t h i s reaso n enough to term c u l t u re s "stationary" whose d evel
opment does not conform to our O\\'n schemata? M u s t these soci
eties b e seen as hav i ng no history? B e fo re the question can have
any meaning, it i s necessary t o frame i t i n sLl c h a way as to make a
rep l y possi b l e , that i s , wi thout postu lating the universal i ty o f the
\Ve stern m o d e l . I l i ston' d e c l ares i t se l f i n m an i fo l d w ay s , a n d
changes according to the different perspectives in which it is viewed:
"The opposition between p rogressi\'C c u l tures and static cultures
thus seems to res u l t, fi rs t , h'om a cl i Herence o f' f()C u s ."27
The tendency to brm a vslem , un eve n l y real i7ed i n d epth and
e xtension d epending on the region c o n s id e red , leads u s because
o f these very d i fferences to grant the c u l t u re s o f this a rea a "d ia27.

Claude

(-\,i-Strau:-.:-.,

'\llUC1UIc/1

Hook" 1'!76, \ 0 1 . I I , p, 3 10.

\ nlhrop% H} ' J\lo ll i q ul'

ayto n , tran . ,

Nc\\' York, Ra:-.i(

IN D E P EN D E N C E

AND

e X O G A M Y

chroni c " d i m e n s i o n , o n e that c a n b e l ocated notab l y among the

Tu p i - Guaran i : h e n c e , these are n o t s o c i e t i e s w i th o u t h i story. I t i s
on t h e l ev e l o f p o li t i c a l o rgan i z a t i o n m u c h more than i n t h e eco
l ogical d o m a i n that the sharp e s t a n t i t h e s i s i s to b e found between
marginal and r:orest c u l tures . B u t n e i ther are they h i s torical soci
e t i e s . I n t h i s sense the s y m m e t r i c a l and inverse con trast w i th t h e
And ean c u l tures i s j u st as strong . T h erefore , the po l i tical dynamic
that assigns the Forest societies th e i r specifi c i ty wou l d p l ace them
on a stru c t u ra l plane - and n o t at a chronological s tage - that we
might cal l

prehistorical.

T h e M a rg i n a l s fu rn i sh t h e e x a m p l e o f

a-historical soc i e t i e s . the I nc a s o f an a l read y h i storical c u l ture . I t

appears reasonab l e . then . to a s s u m e that the dynamics charac ter
i s t i c of the Tro p i c a l Forest is a

condition ofpossibi1i v fo r the k i n d

of

hi story that conqu ered the A n d e s . The pol i tical pro b l e matic of
the Forest refe rs to the t \\o p l an e s that set its l i m i t s : the gen etic
plane of the b i rthplace o f the i n s t i t u t i o n , a n d the hi storical plane
o f i t s desti ny.

77

Elements of
Ameri ndian

Demography

S o m e may be su rpri sprl that a t e x t concerned mai n l y w i th d e m og

raphy s h o u l d acc o mpany s t u d i e s d evoted to poli ti cal anthropology.
T h e re i s n o c o m pe l l i ng reas o n , i t wo u l d seem , to i nvoke such evi
d e n c e as t h e s i z e a n d d e n s i t y o f t h e s o c i e t i e s under scru t i ny when
the obj ect is to analyze t h e fu n c t i o n i ng o f power re l a t i o n s and t h e
i n s t i t u t i o n s that govern t h e m . There i s t h o u g h t t o e x i s t a k i n d o f
autonomy o f the sphere o f powe r ( or n o n-powe r ) , mai n tai n i ng and
reprod u c i ng i ts e l f apart fro m a n d p r o t e c t e d fro m any e x ternal
i n fl u e n c e s , as for e x a m p l e t h e s i z e o f t h e p o p u l ati o n . And, i n fac t ,
t h i s i d ea o f a tranq u i l re l a t i o n s h i p b e t w e e n t h e g ro u p a n d i ts
f() fm of power a p p e ars to corre s p o n d fai rl y c l o s e l y to the rea l i ty
pre s e n ted by arc h a i c s oc i e t i e s , w h i c h know and prac t i c e many
m e t h o d s for c o n t ro l l i ng and preve n t i ng t h e growth o f their popu
lati o n : a b o rti o n , i n fan t i c i d e , s e x u a l tabo o s , late wean i ng, and so
o n . Now this abi l i t y o f t h e savages to code the flux o f th e i r demog
raphy has grad u al l y v a l i d a t e d t h e b e l i e f that a p ri m i ti ve soci e t y i s
necessari l y a "restricted" soci ety, since w e are told that the so-ca l l ed
s u b s i s t e n c e e c o n o m y wo u l d n o t be a b l e to s u p p l y t h e needs of a
l a rge p o p u l a t i o n .
T h e t rad i t i onal i m age o f S o u t h A m e r i c a ( l e t u s n o t fo rget t h i s
i m age was d rawn i n l a rge p a r t by e t h n o l ogy i ts e l f) i s an e xcepti on-

79

S O C I E T Y A G A I N ST T H E S TAT E

a l l y good i l l u s trati o n of that m i x ture o f hal f-tru ths , errors, and

p rej ud i c e s which resul t s i n fac ts b e i ng treated w i th asto n i s h i ng
l ight-m i n d e d ness ( se e , in the Hand book oj South American Indians,
the c l as s i fi ca t i o n of South American s o c i e t i e s ) . 1 On t h e o n e s i d e ,
t h e Andes a n d t h e H ighland cul tures w h i c h s u c c e e d e d e a c h o t h e r
i n that regi o n ; on the other, all the res t : fores ts, savannas, a n d p a m
pas, tee m i ng w i t h small s o c i e t i e s , a l l s i m i lar, a m o n o t o n o u s repe
tition o f t h e same that appears to d i s p l ay n o d i flerence . It i s n o t so
much a q u e s t i on of how m u c h truth there i s i n all t h i s , b u t rath e r
o f gauging t h e extent o f fal sehood . To r e t u rn to the p o i n t o f depar
ture , the problem of the connec t i o n b e tween d e m ography and
p o l i tical a u thority divides i n t o two l i n e s o f i n q u i ry : ( 1 ) Arc a l l
the forest s o c i eties o f S o u th A m e r i c a o n a par w i th o n e a n o t h e r a t
t h e level o f the socio-pol i tical units o f w h i c h they consist? ( 2 ) Does
the nature o f p o l i tical power remain u n c h anged when its field of
d e m ograp h i c appl i cat i o n e x pands a n d grows m ore d e n s e ?
I t w a s i n d i scus s i ng the c h i e ftai n s hi p i n Tu p i - G uaran i s o c i e t i e s
t h a t w e m e t the demographi c probl e m . T h i s group o f tri b e s , v e ry
h o m og e n e o u s both l i ngu i stical l y and c u l tura l l y, o ffers two rath e r
remarkabl e characteristics that mark t h e m off clearly fr o m the other
Forest s o c i e t i e s . F i rs t , the c h i e ftai n s h i p asserted i tsel f wi th greater
force a m o ng these I nd i ans than e l sewhere; second l y, the demo
graph i c d e n s i ty o f the social u n i t s - t h e local gro u p s - was d i s
t i n c t l y h i g h e r t h a n the m e an d e n s i t i e s c o m m o n l y accepted a s
normal for South Ameri can societi e s . W h i l e not asserting that t h e
transfo r m a t i o n o f p o l i ti ca l power a m o ng t h e Tu p i - G uarani was
1 . For b e t s r e L l t i n g tu the S i '( t lc n t h . scvc n t lT n t h , a n d c i g h t l'C n t h u' n t u r i l' <" , m y refer
ence sou n..: e s t h rough o u t are the F r e nc h . Portugu e s e . Spa n i s h , G e r m a n , e tc . , c h ro n i c l e rs ,
J:'l w e l l d t h e t e x ts and l e t t e rs o f t h e fi rs t J e s u i t s i n S o u t h A m c r i c 1 . T h e s e s o u rces a r e

s u ffi c i e n t l y w e l l known to make fu r t h e r d e ta i l s s u p e r fl u o u s . I n add i t i o n , 1 h a v e c o n s u l teJ

lhe

Handbook oj South American Indiam, N e w Yor k , 1 9 6 3 , vol .

80

V.

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caused by d e m ogra p h i c e x p an s i o n , i t s e e m s to u s at l east j ust i fi

a b l e to p lace these two spec i fi c d i m en s i o n s o f these tri bes in per
spec tive . B u t at t h i s p o i n t a sign i fi c a n t q u e s t i o n ari ses: were t h e
l ocal gro u p s o f the Tu p i -Guarani a c t u a l l y much l a rger than tho s e
o f o t h e r c u l tures?
T h i s brings u p t h e w h o l e pro b l e m o f s o u rces a n d t h e c redence
they s h o ul d h e granted . T h e Tu p i -Gu aran i ach i eve the parado x o f
having a l m o s t c o m p l e t e l y v a n i s h e d l o ng ago ( a l l b u t a few thou
sand o f them w h o s u rv i ve i n Paraguay ) and o f b e i ng nonethel e s s
perhaps the best-known i n d igenous p e o p l e o f South Ameri c a . A
very abundant l i terature i s avai l a b l e a b o u t them : that of t h e fi rst
explorers , soon fo l l mn:: d by the Jesu i t s

\\

ho, c o m i l lg from F rance,

Spai n , and Portugal a s earl y as the m i d - s i x teenth centu ry, were

a b l e to observe at l e i s u re these savages w h o occu p i ed the e n t i re
Braz i l ian coast and a l a rge part o f presen t-day Paragu ay. T h o u sands
o f pages are devoted to descri b i ng the everyday life of these I n d i
a n s , t h e i r w i l d a n d c u l ti vated p l a n t s , t h e way t h ey married , rai s e d
c h i l dre n , a n d m a d e war, t h e i r cere m o n i a l k i l l i ng of prisoners , re la
tions between gro u p s , etc. The fi rsthand accounts of these chro n i
c l ers , g i v e n at d i fferent t i m e s a n d p l ac e s , s h ow an ethnogra p h i c
c o n s i stency that i s u n i q u e i n S o u t h A m e ri c a , where o n e i s m o s t
often faced w i th a n e x t reme l i ngu i s t i c and c u l tural fragmentati o n .
T h e Tu p i - G u a ran i present t h e reverse s i tuation: they were tri bes
l ocated t h o u sa n d s of m i l e s from o n e a n o t h e r, h u t l i v i ng the sam e
k i n d of l i fe , prac t i c i ng t h e same r i t e s , a n d s peak i ng t h e same l an
guage . A G uaran i from Paraguay would h ave been on perfectl y fam i l
i a r ground among t h e Tu p i o f M a ran h a o , a n d y e t t h e l atter were
4 , 0 0 0 k i l ometers away. I t i s tru e , read i ng the o l d c h ron i c l e s c a n
s o m e t i m e s prove t i re s o m e , s i n c e t h e i r a u t h ors see and d escri be
t h e same rea l i ty. S t i l l , they prov i d e a so l i d f() u n d ation o f work
since they d o val i d a t e o n e a n o t h e r : M o n toya and J a rq u e , m i ss i o n
aries among the G u arani o f Parag uay, e c h o T h e v e t a n d l e T Y w h o
81

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N S T

T H E

S TAT E

v i s i ter! the Tu pi namba o f R i o Bay 60 years b e fo r e . So that the tal

ent o f the c h roni c l e rs , almost all of w h o m were l earn e d men and
fai thfu l observers , was coupler! w i th the relative u n i fo r m i ty o f the
p e o p l e s u n d e r o b s e rva ti o n : fro m t h e i r m e e t i n g , h a p p i l y fo r
Am erican i s t s , an exceptio nall y rich body o f material i s s t i l l e x tant,
material researchers can rely o n .
N e a r l y a l l t h e c h ro n i c l e rs a t te m p t e d t o c o m p l e m e n t t h e i r
d e s c ri p t i o n s w i t h num erical data a b o u t t h e r! i m e n s i o n s o f the
h o u s e s , the s urface area planted i n c ro p s , the d i stance s s e parating
the v i l l ages, and , above all , the number of i nhab i tants in the regions
they v i s i ted . O f cours e , their motive s vari e d : w i tn e s s t h e ethno
graphi c rigor ofUry, the m i l i tary o bj ectivity o f Stad e n , the admin
i strative preocc u pation o f the m i s s i onarie s \vho needed to take a
c e n s u s o f the peoples under their c o n t ro l . B u t o n t h i s point, and
o thers too , the quantitative i n fo rmati o n , whether gathered among
the G uarani or the Tur i , in Maranhao or t h e s o u th o f B rat i i , shows
n o di sagreement: from one e n d o f the vast territory o c c u p i e d by
the Tu pi-Guarani to the other, the figures recorded are much the
same . Strangely enough , the specialists i n South America have thus
far compl etely ignored this data - and i t is e s p e c i al l y valuable as
it i s often very prec ise - o r have rej ected it o u tright . T h e reason
i nvoke d : the chroniclers gro s s l y e x aggerated the size o f the native
p o p u l ati o n . One is thus placed b e fore a very unusual s i tuati o n :
everythi ng t h e chron i c l ers wrote i s a d m i ssabl e , e x c e p t the fig
ures they gave ! No one seems to be bothered by the fac t that the
errors , if not the l i e s , o f the chronicl ers are all l ocated w i th i n the
same order of magn i tu d e .
W h a t n e eds e x am i n i ng fi r s t i s t h e val i d i ty o f t h e c r i t i c i s m s
l eveled at the c h ron i c l ers' e s t i mates . T h ey are fo r the most part
c o l l e c t e d and d i s c u s s e d in the work of the m aj o r s p e c i a l i s t i n
Ameri n d i a n demography, Angel Ros e n b l a t t . T h e m e t h o d h e u s e s
to calculate th e indigenous population o f South America at the
82

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t i m e o f the D i scovery p l a i n l y betrays the s light value h e sets on

the i n formation supplied by the chron i c lers. How many I nd i an s
were there i n Ameri ca b e fore t h e c o m i ng o f t h e w h i t e m a n ? F o r a
long t i m e the answers Am cricanists gave to thi s question were as
vari ed as they "vcre arbi trary because they lacked a sci enti fi c basi s .
T h u s t h e y fl u c t u a t e , fo r t h e N e w \Vo r l d i n i ts e n t i rety, fro m
8 , 400 ,000 inhabi tants i n Kroeber's j udgm ent, t o 4 0 , 000,000
accord i ng to P . R i v e t .
Tak i ng u p the probl e m of Ameri ca's prc-Columbian populati on
i n h i s turn , Rosenhlatt arrives at a figure approach i ng 1 3 ,000,000,
o f which h e assigns 6 , 7 8 5 , 0 0 0 to South Ameri c a . l i e b e l i eves that
the marg i n o f e rror fo r h i s esti mate d o e s not e x ceed 2 0 percent
and that, therefore , his approach is rigorous and s c i e n t i fi c . W hat
abo ut this rigor? He e x p l a i n s that "the d e n s i ty o f the population
depends . . . not only on the environment but also on the economic
and soc i al structure . I n stu d y i ng a l l these peoples we havc observed ,
as might be e x pccted , a c e rta i n paral l e l i s m b etween the popula
t i o n d e n s i t y a n d the c u l t u ra l l evel ." 2 T h i s qual i fication i s vague
enough to b e read i l y accepted . W hat ap pears m ore d ebatabl e i s
the author's v i ew p o i n t w h c n h e w r i t e s :
I n part i c u l a r, o n e tl nd s a l a rge p o p u l a t i o n where there i s estab
l i shcd a great p o l i ti c a l fo rmat i o n based on agri c u l tural modes
o f e x i st e n c e . In A m e r i c a , t h i s was the case o f the Aztec , M aya,
C h i bcha, and I nca c i v i l i zati o n s . Wi th them, p re-Col umb ian agri
c u l ture reac hcd its ze n i th and dense hubs o f p o p u l a t i o n t o ok
shape in i ts m i d st . 3

2.

A . R O 'i l' n h l a t t . 1 <1 Po b/ado n l / ! (iI'.'I l' 1 l 0 r

vol. I ,

\.

p.

I hid.,

103.

p.

103.

cI

llIf.' s t i/o j e C II ,'l m criul , Btu.' n o s A i re s , 1 9 S 4 ,

SOC I E T Y

A G A I NS T

T H E ST A T E

I see in this state ment something like a conj u r i ng trick : Rosen

b l att is, i n fact , not content to t i e high p o p u l a t i o n d e n s i ty to a
tech n o l ogy of intensive agri c u l t u r e ; w h e n he s peaks o f a "great
p o l i t i cal formation" h e brings i n , o n the s l y, t h e i d e a of a state .
Ye t , despite a l l i t i m p l i e s , this reference to t h e state a s t h e mark
and bearer of c i v i lization relates o n l y at a d i s tance to what i n t er
ests us here . The essential p o i n t c o m e s n e x t : " B u t w h i l e the great
c u l tures reached the agri c u ltural stage , and in Peru the l l ama and
al paca were successfu l l y domesticate d ,

the greater part of the conti

nent lived from hunting. fishing, and gathering. H u n ti n g p e o p l e s n e e d

v a s t p r a i r i e s . . . , peoples who fee d themselve s fro m h u n t i ng and

fi s h i ng are forced to practice a certain n o m ad i s m . T h e fore s t has
never shel tered l arge populations because o f the high m ortal i ty
rate s , d i fficult c l i matological conditions , the strugg l e w i th insects
and wild beasts, the scarc i ty o f e d i b l e plants . . . . E x c e p t for t h e
agri c u l tural zon e , w h i c h stretched out i n a narrow s t r i p the l ength
of the Andes . . .

, the continent in

1 4 92

was an immense forest or steppe."4

I t wou l d be a m i s take to b e l i eve it a waste o f t i m e to examine

such a statement of nonsen s e , fill' Rosenblatt's e n t i re d e m ography
is based on i t , and his \Vork is s ti l l the reference-and the source for
American i s t s interested in the prob l e m of p o p u l a ti o n .
T h e author's approach to the s u bj ec t i s summary. H u n ting peo
ples, needing a great deal o f spac e , have a l ow-d e n s i ty populati o n ;
n o w South America was almost entirely occupied b y tribes of hunt
ers; t h e native population of the c o n t i n e n t was , therefore , very
l ow. The i m pl icati o n : consequentl y, the estimates o f the chroni
c l ers , f()r e xamp l e , are to be c o m p l e t e l y d i sc o u n ted since they
put fo rward relatively h igh popu l a t i o n figure s .
I t g o e s w i thout saying ( b u t i t's m u c h better sai d ) t h a t a l l t h i s i s
patently fa l s e . Rosenblatt p u l l s fi-om thin air an America o f nomad
4.

I bi d . , p p .

1 04-05 ;

the emphasis i s mine.

ELEMEN T S

O F

A MER I N D I A N

D E M OGR A P H Y

hunters so as to cause acceptance o f a l ow demographic estimat e .

( Al though i t should b e noted that he shows himself to be more
generous than Kroeher. ) What were things like in America in 1 5 0 0 ,
t h e n ? E xactly the opposite o f what Rosenblatt asserts. Most o f
t h e continent was settled by sed entary agricul turalists who were
cul tivating a wide variety of plants , the l ist of \\'hich we will not
reproduce here . \Ve can even d e rive an axiom fro m this basic fact
by stating that wherever agriculture IVas ecologicalv and technological/v
feasible: it was presen t. Now this determination of the possible ara
ble space takes in the i m mense Orinoco-Amazon-Parana-Paraguay
system and even the Chac o : the only regi on to be excluded fro m
t h i s habi tat is the pampas that ex tend from Tierra del Fuego to
about the 3 2nd paral lel , a hunting and gathering territory occu
pied by the 'l c'huelche and Puelche tri bes. lienee, o n l y a small
part of the continent s u pports Rosenblatt's argu ment. Perhaps i t
w i l l be obj ected that inside the zone where agricul ture i s feasible
some peoples d o not practice i t . F i rst 0 1' .11 1 , I w i l l point o u t that
these i nstances arc e x tremely rare and l ocalized; the G u ay ak i of
Pa raguay, t h e Siriono o f Bolivia, and the G uahibo o f Colombia.
S e c o n d l y, I will recal l that i t has been poss i b l e to veri fy that these
are n o t i n s t a n c e s o f t ru l y a rc h a i c p eo p l es but, on t h e c o n t ra ry,
I'Ociclies that h a ve lost atl'iculture. F o r my part, I have s h o w n that t h e
G u ayak i , w h o a rc p u re h u n te rs a n d n o m a d s o f t h e fo re s t , gave u p
c u l t i va t i ng corn towards t h e e n d o f t h e s i x te e n t h c e n t u ry. I n s h o r t ,
t h e re i s n o th i ng l e ft to s u p po r t Rose n b l att's end eavor. T h i s

docs
o r 6 , 7 8 5 ,OOO i n h a b i ta n t s
s i m p l y t h a t , l i k e a l l t h e p re

n o t n e c e s s a r i l y cast d o u b t o n t h e fi g u re
g i ve n b y h i m j ( ) r S o u t h A m e r i c a . I t i s

v i o u s e s t i m a t e s , i t i s p u r e l y a rb i t ra r y, a n d i t wou l d b e a m a t t e r o f
c h a n c e i f i t p roved to b e c o rrec t . F i n a l l y, s ee i ng t h a t t h e reason
Rosenblatt g i ves j<)r rej e ct i ng

the

prec i se deta i l s c i ted by the c h ro n i

c l e rs t u rn s o u t to be t o t a l l y w h i m s i c a l , w e a re w i th i n o u r rights i n
say i ng : s i n c e n o

val i d

a rg u m e n t

n u l l i fies the de mographic data o f

S O C I E T Y

the c h ro n i c l ers - who

AG A I N S T

T H E

were eyewitnesses -

S TA T E

perhaps i t i s b e tter, set

t i ng a s i d e t h e u s u a l prej ud i c e s , to t a k e s e r i o u s l y for once w h a t

t h e y tell u s . That i s w h a t we shall t r y t o d o .
F o r us there i s no q u e s t i o n o f tak i ng the c l a s s i c r o a d by reckon
i ng the I n d i a n population of the w h o l e of South A m erica i n 1 5 00 ,
a n i m p o s s ible task i n o u r vi ew. B u t w e can atte m p t t o determ i n e
h o w many G uarani I ndians there were at the t i m e . T h e attempt i s
j usti fied for two reasons: the first relates t o t h e d i s p o s i t i o n of their
terri tory, which was q u i te homogen eou s , w i t h known and hence
measurab l e boundari e s . The same is not true o f the Tu p i : they
i nhabi ted almost the entire Brazilian coastland , but i t i s not known
how far their tribes e x tended back i n to the interi o r ; consequently,
i t i s n o t p o s s i b l e to j udge the e x tent o f t h e i r terri tory. T h e second
reason has to do w i th the numerical data. A s w i l l b e s e e n , i t is
more p l e n t i ful than one might suppo s e , and of t w o d i fferent cate
gori e s : the data obtai ned i n the s i x teenth c e n tury and the beg i n
n i ng o f t h e seve n t e e n t h and that b e l ongi ng to t h e e n d o f the
seven teenth century and the b eg i n n i ng o f the eigh teenth . The lat
ter, s u p p l i e d by the Jesuits, is concerned only w i th the Gu aran i .
A s for the former, i t furni shes facts about t h e Guarani and the Tup i ,
but m o r e about the Tu p i t h a n the Guaran i . B u t these s o c i e t i e s
were so h omogeneous i n a l l respects that the d e m ographic d i men
sions o f the Guarani and Tu p i local groups must h ave been very
s i m i l ar. I t follows that w h i l e the Tup i population figures cannot
b e mechan i call y app l i ed to the G u arani reali ty, a t least they can
b e assumed to be o f the same order o f mag n i t u d e w h e n there i s a
l ac k of i n fo rmati on regardi ng the Guaran i .
Contacts were establ i shed very early between the I ndians o f
Braz i l a n d the E u ropean s , probabl y i n t h e fi rs t d e ca d e o f t h e s i x
teenth century, v i a the F rench a n d Portugu ese seafaring traders
who came to exchange metal tool s and cheaply made goods for
b raz i l wood ( i . e . ,

bois de braise ) .

T h e fi rst l e tters of t h e Jesu i t m i s 86

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A M ERI N D I A N

D E M O GRA P H Y

s i o naries who settled a m o ng the Tu p i namba date from 1 5 49 . The

pen etrat i o n o f w h i tes i n to the h e art o f the continent took place
d u r i ng the first half o f t h e c e n t ury. The Span i s h , setti ng o u t i n
search o f the I nca E l d o rad o , sai l e d u p t h e R i o d e la P l ata, then the
Paraguay. The fi rst fo u n d i ng o f Kuenos A i re s occurred in 1 5 3 6 .
U n d e r pre s s u re fro m the tri b e s , the C o n q u i stadors had to aban
don i t almost i mmediately and wen t o n to found Asuncion in 1 5 3 7 ;
t h i s town later becom i ng the c a p i tal o f Paraguay. I t was then n o
more than a base camp f<)r o rga n i z i ng e x ped i ti o n s of conquest and
e x p l o rat i o n d i rected towards the Andes from which the Spani ard s
we re separated by the vastness o f the Chac o . It was the G u ara n i
I ndians, masters of t h e whole reg i o n , w i th whom t h e Span i sh al l i ed
themselve s . These brief h istorical part i c ulars e x p l a i n why the Tu p i
G u aran i became k n o w n a l m o s t as earl y as the A z t e c s a n d I n cas .
W hat was the c o m p o s i t i o n of the l ocal gro u p s , or v i l l ages , o f
the Tu p i - G uaran i ? A l l t h e fac t s arc well k n ow n , but th ere may be
some poi n t in recal l i ng the e s se n t i a l s . A G u aran i or Tu pi v i l l age
c o m pri sed fou r to eight large c o m m u n a l h o u s e s , the

maJow ,

pos i

t i o n e d aro u nd a c e n tral plaia re s e rved t(H re l ig i o u s and c e re m o

n i a l fu n c t i o n s . T h e d i m e n s i o n s o f the

maJow v a r i e d

d e pe n d i ng o n

t h e observers a n d , n o d o u b t , o n t h e gro u p s v i s i ted . T h e i r l e ng t h i s

p l ac e d s o m ew h e re b e t w e e n 1 2 5 k e t f l ) r t h e s m a l l e s t a n d 5 00 Il' e t
fi) r t h e large s t . A s to t h e n u m b e r o f o c c u pan t s o f' e a c h

I1IUJO[a ,

it

fl u c tuated fro m 1 0 0 ( ac c o rd i ng t o Card i m , b r i n s tanc e ) t o fI ve o r

s i x h u n d re d ( Le ry ) . T h e re s u l t i s t h a t t h e p o p u l a t i o n o f t h e s i m
p l e s t Tu pi n a m ba v i l l ag e s ( I( m r

171(7Iow ) m u st have i n c l u d e d around

400 pers o n s , w h e re a s that o f' the m o s t s u b stan t i a l ( snen or e i g h t

ll) (JJow )

reac h e d , o r e x c e e d ed , t h ree t h o usand per s o n s . T h eve t ,

li) r h i s part , tal k s a b o u t s o m e v i l l ag e s w h e re h e stayed hav i ng s i x

t h o u sand a n d even t e n t h o u sa n d i n h a b i t a n t s . I. e t u s s u p p o s e t h a t
these last fig u re s arc e x aggerate d . T h e tac t re m a i n s t h a t t h e d e m o
graph i c scale o f the Tu pi gro u ps g o e s br beyo nd t h e ord i nary s i z e o f

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N S T

T H E

STAT E

South Ameri can societi e s . By way of c omparison , I w i l l recall that

among the Yanomami o f Venezuela, a forest peopl e , and m o reover
one that is still intact due to contin u e d p ro t e c ti o n fro m contact
w i th whites, the most populous local groups number 2 5 0 pers o n s .
The i n formation supplied by the c h r o n i c l ers shows u n m i s tak
ably that the Tupi-Guarani villages varied i n size. B u t we can assume
a mean p o p u l a t i o n of 600 to a t h o u sand p e rs o n s p e r g ro u p , a
hypothes i s , it should be underscore d , that i s deliberate l y low. This
esti mate m ay appear enormous to A m eri cani sts . It fin d s c o n fi r
m a t i o n n o t o n l y i n t h e i m p re s s i o n i s t i c n o t a t i o n s o f t h e fi r s t
voyagers - t h e m u l ti tude o f c h i l d r e n swarming i n the v i l l ages b u t above all in the num erical data they fu rni s h . T h i s i n formation
is often c o ncerned with the m i l i tary activities o f the Tup inamba.
As a matter of fac t , the chroniclers were u n an i m o u s l y struck , at
t i m e s h o rrified , by these I nd i ans' fanatical taste for warfare . The
French and the Portuguese, i n armed competition over w h o wou l d
gain d o m i nation of the Brazil i an c oastlan d , were a b l e t o e x p l o i t
t h i s I n d i an bell i c o s i ty b y becom i ng a l l i e s w i th tribes which were
enemies o f one another. Stade n , for exampl e , or A n c h i e t a , speak
as eyewi tn e sses o f Tupi namba battl e fleets compri s i ng as many as
200 pi rog u e s , each one carry i ng fro m 2 0 to 30 m e n . Martial e x p e
d i tions sometimes i nvolved n o m o re t h a n a few h u n d r e d comba
tants . But some, w h i c h lasted s e v e ral weeks o r eve n m o n t h s ,
mobilized up to twelve thousand warriors , not counting the women
respo n s i b l e for " l ogis t i c s " ( th e trans p o rt of " war m e a l " for feed
i ng the troops ) . Lery tel l s about part i c i p a t i ng i n a battl e on the
beaches o f Rio that lasted half a day : h e places at five o r six thou
sand the number of c o mbatants

belonginH to each faction .

Natura l l y

s u c h concentrat i o n s , even a l l ow i ng for the e rror i nherent i n esti

mates made "at a glance , " were possible only prov i d e d there was
a n alliance of s everal v i l l ages. But the rel a t i o n s h i p b e tween the
n umber o f men old enough to figh t a n d t h e total n u mber o f the
88

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population gives clear proof o f the d e m ograph i c ampl i t u d e of the

Tu pi-Guarani soci e t i e s . ( I t ought t o b e u n d e rstood that all ques
t i o n s relating to war and the n u m b e r o f l ocal groups i nvolved in
the al l i ance n e t works are very relevant to both the demograph i c
problem and the p o l i tical probl e m . We cannot l i nger on these
q uestions here . I will merely note i n passing that, by their d u ra
t i o n and the " mass fo rmati o n s " they brought i n t o play, these m i l i
tary e x p ed i tions n o l o nger have anyt h i ng in common w i th what is
called warfare in the other South American tri b e s , which nearly
al ways consists o f h i t-and-run rai d s c o n d u c ted at dawn b y a hand
ful o f attackers . Beyond the d i fference i n the nature of warfare can

bi' g l i m p'"d

d i fference in the nature o f p o l i tical power. )

All these fac t s are concerned w i th the Tup i of the coast . R u t

w h a t about the G u aran i ? W h i l e the C o n q u i stado rs proved t o be
m i serl y w i th figures regard i ng them , we d o know that thei r v i l
l age s , m a d e u p , a s i n t h e c a s e of the Tu p i , o f fo u r to e ig h t

maJoea ,

left the first explorers with the i mpression of a crow d . A lvar Nunez
Cabeza d e Vac a , having l e ft the A t l a n t i c i n Nove m b e r of
reac hed Asunc i o n i n l'vlarch o f

1541.

1 5 4 2 . T h e account o f t h i s cross i ng

of t h e e n t i re Gu ara n i terri tory is fu ll of re mark s concern i ng t h e

n u m b e r of v i l l ages v i s i ted a n d t h e n u m b e r o f i n habi tants i n each .
W h e n the Span i s h . l e d b y D o m i ngo d e I rala, arrived a t the site o f
what i s now Asunc i c m , they made c o n tact w i th the two chi e fs
who controlled the region: the latter c o u l d put four thousa nd

warriors

i n to the fi e l d . T h i s i s the fi rst n u m erical data concern i ng the G u a

ran i , the m o re conv i n c i ng as i t i s prec i s e . A short t i m e after the
c o n c l u s i o n o f the a l l ianc e , these two cac i c[ues were able to ra i se
what m u s t i n deed be c a l l e d an army - e ight thousand m e n who
h e l ped I rala and his s o l d i ers c o m bat t h e Agaz tribes w h o had ris e n
u p aga i n s t t h e Span i s h . I n

1 5 4 2 , t h e l a t t e r h a d to give battl e to a

great Guarani c h i e f Tabare , w h o c o m manded eight thou sand war

ri ors . I n

1 5 60 , there was a new revo l t of t h e Guaran i , three thou-

SO C I E T Y

A G A I NS T

T H E ST A T E

sand of whom were w i ped out by their new masters . T h e re wou l d

be no end to i t , i f we were to d raw u p a c o l u m n o f figures , all o f
w h i c h fal l w i th i n the s a m e o r d e r o f m agn i t u d e . Let u s c i te a few
more , however, from among those fu rnished by the J e s u i t s . It is
known that the first "reduc t i o n s , " estab l i shed at the b eg i n n i ng of
the seventeenth century by Ruiz Montoya, i m m e d i a t e l y fel l v i c
tim to the a s s a u l t s o f t h o s e who w e r e c a l l e d the

Ma melucos.

These

murderous ban d s , made u p o f Portuguese and m e s t i z o s , wou l d

leave the S a o Paolo region i n o r d e r to capture , i n G u arani coun
try, the maximum number o f I n d i a n s , w h o m they woul d i n turn
sel l as slaves to the colonists along the coast . The story of the begin
n i ng o f the M i s s i o n s i s that o f th e i r s trugg l e aga i n s t t h e Momelucos.
I n the space of a few years , the latter, so say t h e arc h i ve s of the
Jesu i t s , k i l l e d or took cap tive three hundre d thou sand I nd i a n s .
B etween

1 6 2 8 and 1 6 3 0 , the Portug u e s e k i d napped s i x ty thou

sand G uaran i from

the Missions.

In

1 6 3 1 , Montoya res i g n e d h i m s e l f

t o evacuating t h e last two remai n i ng red u c t i o n s o f G u a i ra Prov

ince ( si tuated, therefore , in Portuguese terri tory ) . Under his l ead
ershi p , twe l ve thousand I ndians set o u t upon a mournfu l anabasi s :
four thousand survivors reached the Parana. I n o n e v i ll age , Montoya

1 7 0 fam i l i e s , or, at the l owest e s t i m a t e , a p o p u lation o f

800 to 8 5 0 p erson s .

counted

These d i verse fac t s , which cover nearly a c e n tury ( from

with the Conqui stadors to

1 5 37

1 6 3 1 w i th the J e s u i t s ) , and these fig

ures, though they are rough ly appro x i mate, d e fi n e , when j o i ned

to the Tup i figures, one and the same order o f magnitude. Anchieta,
Montoya's opposite number i n B razi l , writes that i n

1 5 60 the soc i

e t y o f Jesus had already brought under i t s guardianship eighty thou

sand I n d i an s . Th i s demographic homoge n e i ty o f the Tup i -Guarani
calls for two tentati ve conc l u s i o n s . The fi rs t i s that, for these I ndi
ans, it i s n e cessary to accept the high estimate s . ( I m e an high in
compari son with the usual rates o f other i ndigenous s o c i e t i e s . )

E L E M E N T S

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A M E R I N D I A N

D E M O G R A P H Y

The second i s tha t , when need be, we can l egitimately make use
o f the Tupi figures for d i scussing the Guarani reali ty, provided we
demonstrate - and that i s what we shall attempt to do - the valid
ity of our method.
Hence, let i t be the Guarani population whose sill' we want to
calculate. It is first o f all a matter o f determining the area of the
territory occupied by these I ndians. Unlike the Tupi habitat, which
is impossible to measure, the task here is relatively easy, even if i t
does not permit us t o o btai n the precise results o f a cadastral sur
vey. The Guarani h o m eland was roughly bounded to the West by
the Paraguay River, that is, by that part of its course which is situ
ated between the 2 2nd parallel upstream and the 2 8 th downstream.
The southern frontier was located a l i ttle to the south of the j u nc
tion o f the Paraguay and the Parana. The shores of the Atlantic
consti tuted the eastern boundary, approxi mately i'om the Brazil
ian port o f Paranagua t o the north ( the 2 6th paral lel ) to the pre
sent U ruguay border, formerly the hom eland of the Charrua Indi
ans ( the 3 3 rd parallel ) . One thus has two parallel l i nes ( the course
o f the Paraguay and the seacoas t ) so that all we have to do i s link
their ends to di scover the northern and sou thern boundaries o f
t h e Guarani terri tory. These boundaries correspond almost e xact l y
to t h e fu rthest e x pansion of t h e G uarani . This quadri lateral o f
around 5 00 , 000 square kilom eters was n o t whol l y occupied by
the Guara n i , since other tribes l i ved in the reg i o n , mai nly the
Cai ngang. We can esti mate the area of G uarani terri tory at 3 5 0,000
sq uare kilo meters .
Assuming this t o b e tru e , a n d k n o w i ng the m e a n densi ty o f the
l ocal groups, can we d eterm i ne the total popu l ati o n ? \lVe wou l d
have to estab l i sh t h e n u m ber o f local groups w i th i n t h e bou n d
aries o f t h e te rri tory. Obviously, at t h i s l evel our calculations are
concerned with averages, " round" figures, and the results w i l l be
hypotheti cal , which d oes not mean they are arbitrary.
91

S O C I E T Y

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STAT E

For t h i s period - so far as we knmv - there o n l y e x i s ts a single

population census for the g i ve n terri tory. It is the o n e taken at the
b eginning o f the seventeenth century by Father Claude d ' Abbev i l l e
on t h e I s l an d o f Maranhao , during the last F r e n c h a t t e m p t to colo
n i le Braz i l . Spread over this area of 1 , 2 00 sguare kilometers, 1 2 ,000
Tu pi I nd i an s were d i v i d e d i n t o 27 l o cal group s , w h i c h gives a n
average of 4 5 0 persons p e r v i ll age o c c u py i ng an average area o f 4 5
square kilometers. Thus, the density o f the population on the I sland
of Maranhao was exactly 10 inhabi tants per s quare k i l o meter.
I t is not poss i b l e to carry t h i s d e n s i ty over to t h e G uarani land
area ( wh i c h woul d yield 3 , 5 00 , 000 I nd i an s ) . Not that such a fig
ure wou l d a larm u s , but the situation on Maranhao c a n n o t be gen
eral ized . I t was actu a l l y a zone o f refuge for the Tu p inamba who
wanted to escape the Portugue s e ; c o n s e q u e n t l y, the i s l a n d was
overpopulated . Parad o x i ca l l y, that d o u b t l e s s e x p l a i n s the small
size of the grou p s : there were too man) v i l l ag e s . In the coastal
zone i n t h e vic i n i ty o f the island, t h e F r e n c h m i s s i onaries had
counted 15 to 20 groups at Tapuytapera, 1 5 to 20 groups at Comma,
and 2 0 to 2 4 groups among the Cai te . There we have a total of 5 0
t o 6 4 gro u p s , w h i c h m u s t have assem b l e d b etween 3 0 , 000 and

40 ,000 i n d i vidual s . And , accord i ng t o the c h r o n i c l e r s , every one

o f these v i l l age s , d i spersed over a much vaster area than that of
the i s l an d , was more populous than those o f the island. In short,
the I sland o f Maranhao , given the density o f its p o p u l a t i o n , i s a
s o m ewhat aberrant cas e , n o t usab l e for our purpo s e .
Very fo rtunate l y, we fi n d i n t h e chronicl ers a p ri c e l e s s p i e c e o f
i n fOrmation coming fro m Stad e n . D u ri ng t h e 1 2 m o n t h s t h a t t h i s
man was a prisoner of the Tup i namba and trailed along fi'om group
to gro u p , he had ample time to observe the l i fe o f h i s mas ters . He
notes that in general the v i l l ages were separated by a d i s tance of

9 to 12 k i l o meters, w h i c h wou l d give aro u n d 1 5 0 s q u are k i l o m e

ters per local gro u p . L e t u s keep this figure in mind and suppose

E L E M E N T S

O F

A M E R I f'\. O I A N

D E M O G R A P H Y

that the same held true a m ong the G u arani . I t i s now possible to
fin d the number - a l b e i t hypothetical and stati stical - o f Guarani
local groups. I t wou l d amount to 350,000 divided by 150, or about
2 , 340 . Let u s agree on 600 p e rsons a s a cred i b l e average n u m b e r
per u n i t . We wou l d then have : 2 , 340 x 600

1 ,404 , 000 inhabi

tant s . Hence , nearly a m i l l io n a n d a h a l f Guarani I n dians before

the arri val of the w h i t e s . That i m p l i e s a density of lou r inhabi
tants per squ are k i l o meter. ( On the I sland of l\laranhao it \\ as 1 0
inhabitants per square k i l o m e te r. )
T h i s figure \v i l l a p p ear e n o rm o u s , i m probab l e , inad m i ssabl e
t o s o m e , i f n o t to m any. A n d y e t , n o t o n l y i s there no reaso n
( except ideological ) to rej e c t i t , b u t I think o u r esti mate i s verv
modest. This i s t h e p o i n t at which to c i te the studies o f what
i s called the Berkeley Schoo l , a gro u p o f demographic hi storians
whose work overturns fro m top to bottom the classic certai nties
regard ing America and its population. Pierre Cha u n u l d eserves
the c red it fiJr having called to the attention o f researchers, as earl y
as 1960 , the extre m e i m p o rtance o l the d i scoveries m a d e b y t h e
B e r k e l e y Schoo \ .
and

rdl'r to t \\ O texts i n w h i c h h e p re s e n t s a clear

closely reaso n e d state m e n t o f the m ethod a n d res u l t s o f the

A m er i c a n i nv e s t i g a t o rs .
1 w i l l s i m p l y say

that t h e i r d e m ogra p h i c stud i e s , c o n d u c ted w i t h

i rr e p roac h a b l e s t ri c t n e s s , l ead u s t o ad m i t p o p u l a t i o n fig u re s a n d

d e n s i ty rates heretofi)re u n s u s p e c t e d and bord e r i ng on

the i nc red i

h k . T h u s , till' the j\'k x i c a n reg i o n o f A n a h uac ( 5 14,000 sCI UatT k i l o

m e t e rs ) , Borah a n d C o o k d e c i d e u po n a p o p u l a t i o n o f 2 5 m i l l ion

i n 1519, that i s , i n C h a u n u 's \\'ord s , "a d e n s i ty, c o m parabl e to France

in

17i)9, o f 50 i n h a b i t a n t s p er s q u a re k i l o m et er." T h i s m ea n s t h a t

ky, "

[(n lie

0J()U\ clll'\

h/\/{ )ri'lu(',

\'0 1 . IV

I"l'l lll' rcill''\,''

( I Q6() ), PI" 9-6H. :\11<1: " I

He\

L I t'

!J l\lnrh/Ill', YO ! .

( I q(, ).

93

.1 Popubt i oll de 1 ';\ n H'Ti ( I 'H' i ll d i l' l lIH'.

p. !

IX.

S O C I E T Y

AG A I N S T

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STAT E

as it progresses the demography of Berkeley, n o t hypothetical like

ours, but proven , tends to confirm the highest figure s . The recent
work of Nathan Wach te l , deal i ng w i t h t h e Andes, a l s o establishes
population rates in that area much higher than were thought pos
sible: 1 0 mill ion I ndians in the I nca Empire in 1 5 3 0 . T h e necessary
conclusion , then , is that the research conducted in Mexico and the
Andes obl iges us to accept the high estimates regarding the indige
nous population o f America. And that i s why our figure o f 1 , 5 00,000
Guarani I ndians, absurd in the eyes of classic d em ography ( Rosen
blatt and company ) , becomes quite reasonable when placed i n
the demographic perspective trace d by the B e rkeley School .
I f we are right , i f 1 , 5 00 , 000 Guarani I n dians d i d i n fact inhab i t
a terri tory o f 3 5 0 , 000 square kilometers , t h e n i t i s necessary t o
radically transform our notions about the economic l i fe of forest
peoples ( note the stupidity of the concept of subsistence economy ) ,
throw out t h e f(lOlish beliefs about the purported i n abi l i ty of that
type of agricul ture to sustain a substantial populati o n , and total l y
rethink t h e question of political power. I would point out that
nothi ng prevented the Guarani fro m having a large population . I n
fact, let u s consider the amount o f cul tivated space necessary. I t i s
known that around half a hectare i s requ i re d for a fam i l y o f four or
five persons. This figure i s solidly establi shed by the very precise
measurements of Jacques Lizot6 among the Yanomam i j he discov
ered among them ( at l east as regards the groups i n which he made
his survey ) an average o f 1 , 070 square meters cultivaten per per
son . Hence, if hal f a hectare is requ i re d for five persons, 1 5 0 , 000
hectares will have to be planted for 1 , 5 00 , 00 0 persons, that is,
1 , 5 00 sq uare kilometers. This amounts to saying that the total area
of the land cultivated at one time in orner to meet the needs of
1 , 5 00,00 0 I ndians takes up only l/ 2 20th o f the total territory. ( On
6.

I n fo r m a t i o n p e rso n a l l y c o m m u n i cated by I. i z o t .

94

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the I sland of Maranhao , a special case, as we have seen , the gar

dens still occupied o n l y 1!90th of the surface of the i s l an d . And,
according to Yves d'Evreux and Claude d'Abbeville, it did not appear
that the island's tvn:lve thousand i nhabi tants were especially threat
ened with food shortages . ) Consequently, our figure of 1 , 5 00 ,000
Guarani , hypothetical though it is, is not i mprobable i n the sl ight
est. On the contrary, it is Rosenblatt's estimates that appear pre
posterous to m e , seeing that he c o n c l u des there were 2 8 0 ,000
I ndians i n Paraguay in 1 49 2 . \V hat he bases his calculations on is a
mystery. As for Steward , h e d i scovers a density of 2 8 inhabi tants
per 1 00 square k i l o meters for the G uaran i , which shou l d result i n
a total o f 9 8 ,000 I nd i a n s . W h y t h e n d o e s he decide that there
were 2 0 0 , 000 i n 1 5 00 ? Such is the mystery and the i nconsistency
o f "c\assic" Ameri n d ian d e mography.
I am not fo rget t i ng that o u r own figure remai ns hypothetical
( al though one might consider t h e possi bi l i ty of having established
a population sca l e bearing no re l a t i o n to previous calc u l ations a
success ). Now, we h ave avai l a b l e a means of checking the val i d i ty
of o u r calc u l ations. The usc of the regression method, bri l l iantly i l l u s
trated by t h e Berk e l ey Schoo l , w i l l serve a s a coun ter-veri ficat i o n
to t h e method that c o rre l a ted l a n d surfaces w i t h d e n s i t i e s .
I n be t , i t i s poss i b l e f( l r u s to proceed i n a d i fferent way : based
o n the ra te o f d e p o p u l a t i o n .

\Ve

have the good fo rtune to possess

two e s t i mates made by the Jesu i t s deal i ng w i th t h e I ndian popu l a

t i o n grouped w i t h i n t h e M i ss i o n s , that i s , w i th the v i rtual entirety
of the Guara n i . We owe the fi rst to Father Scpp. He w ri tes that i n
1 6 90 t h er e were t h i rt y red u c t i o n s i n al l , none of w h i ch harbored
fewer than s i x thousand I nd ians, and several having more than eight
thousand i n habi ta n t s .

knce , a t the end of the seven teenth cen

tu ry, there were around two h u n d red thousand Guaran i ( not cou n t
i ng t h e t ri b e s that were fre e ) . T h e second e s t i mate i n volves a
gen u i n e census, to the last u n i t , of a l l t h e i n habi tants of the M i s-

S O C I E T Y

AG A I N S T

T H E

S TAT E

slOn s . I t i s Father Lozan o , the historian o f the Socie ty of Jesu s ,

who sets forth the results i n h i s irreplaceable Historia de 1a Conquista
del Paraguay. The population was 1 3 0 , 00 0 persons i n 1 7 3 0 . Let u s
consider t h i s data.
As i s shown by the disappearanc e , i n less t h a n a half:'century, of
more than a thi rd of the populati o n , the Jesuit Mi ssions afforded
the I ndians residing within them scant protection again s t depopu
lation. Quite the contrary, the concentrati o n of people i n what
grew to the size of small towns must have o ffered a choice medium
for the spread of epidemics. The l etters of the Jesuits are strewn
with horri fi ed d isclosures concerning the ravages o f smallpox and
influenza. Father Sepp , for exampl e , states that i n 1 6 8 7 a n epi
demic killed two thousand I ndians in a Single Mission , and that in
1 69 5 a smallpox epidemic decimated all the reductions. It i s q u i te
evident that the depopu lation process did not begi n at the end of
the seventeenth century, but as soon a s the whites arrived , in the
mid-sixteenth century. Father Lozano takes n o te o f thi s : at the
time o f his writing the Historia , the I ndian population had been
drasticall y reduced, compared with the population prior to the
Conquest. Thus h e writes that at the end o f the s i x teenth century
there were , in the region of Asuncion alone, 2 4 , 000 encomienda
I ndians . I n 1 7 3 0 , there were only 2 ,000 l e ft . All the tribes that
inhabited that part of Paraguay not under the authori ty of the Jesuits
completely disappeared on accou n t of encomienda slavery and epi
demics . A n d , ful l of bi tterness , Lozano writes: "The province of
Paraguay was the most populated o f the I ndes and today i t i s nearly
deserte d ; one finds there only those of the M i ssions."
The Berkeley i nvestigators have p lotted the depopulation curve
for the Anahuac region . I t i s appall ing, since o f 2 5 m i l l i on I ndians
i n 1 5 00 , there were n o more than a m i l l i o n left i n 1 60 5 . WachteP
7 . N.

Wac h t e l ,

La Vision des " oincus,

Par i s , Gal l i rna rd ,

1 97 1 .

ELEMEN T S

O F

A MER I N D I A N

D E M O G R A PH Y

cites fi g ures for the I nca Empire that are scarcely less overwhelm
ing: 10 million I ndians i n 1 5 3 0 , 1 million in 1 600. For vari ous rea
son s , the drop in population was less d rastic than in Mexico, since
the population was reduced hy only ( i f i t can be so stated ) nine
tenth s , vvhereas in Mexico i t was reduced by 96/ 1 00ths. In both
the Andes and Mex ico, one w i tnesses a s l ow demographi c recov
ery of the I n d i ans, b egi nning w i th the end of the seventeenth cen
tury. This was not the case with the Guarani , since between 1 6 9 0
a n d 1 7 3 0 the population w e n t from 200 ,000 t o 1 30 ,000.
It can b e estimated that in this period , the free Guaran i , that is,
those havi ng escaped both the encomienda and the M i ssions, were
no more than 20,000. Added to the 1 3 0 , 000 Guarani of the M i s
sions, one obta i n s a total , then , of 1 5 0 ,000 i n about 1 7 3 0 . More
over, I am of the opi n i on that a relati vely low rate of depopulation ,
compared with the J\!1ex ican example, should be accepted, of nine
tenths in two centuri es ( 1 5 3 0 - 1 7 3 0 ) . Conseq uently, the 1 5 0,000
I nd i ans were ten ti mes more n u m erou s t wo centuries before , i . e . ,
there \\TTe 1 , 5 00 ,000. I c o n s i d e r the rate o f d ecl i ne t o b e moder
ate , even though i t i s catastrophic . There appears i n this a co m
parative l y " p rotective " fu nction o f the M i ss i ons, i n v i ew of t h e
fact the cncomicnda I n d i ans d i sappeared at a faster rate: 2 4 ,000 at
t h e e n d o f t h e fi fteenth century, 2 , 000 i n 1 7 3 0 .
Obta i n e d i n th i s way, the fig u re o f 1 , 5 00 , 000 G uarani i n 1 5 3 9 i s
n o l o nger hypotheti cal a s i n t h e prev i o Li s mode o f calculation . I
even think of i t as a m i n i m u m . At a l l events, the convergence o f
the resu l t s obtained b y t h e regre ss i o n m ethod and b y t h e method
o f m e,lll d e n s i ties strength e n s our conviction that we arc not m is
taken. \;\11.' arc a long way ii'om the 2 5 0 ,000 C; uarani i n 1 5 70, accord
i ng to I{ose n b l a t t , w h o thus ad m i ts a rate of d epopu lation of o n l y
2 0 perc e n t ( 2 S () , OOO I n d i a n s i n 1 5 7 0 , 2 0 0 , 00 0 i n 1 6 5 0 ) f<> r a
period ol al most a centu ry. T h i s rate i s arbi trari l y postu lated and
i n c o m p l ete con trad i c t i o n w i th the rates estab l i shed elsewhere
97

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STAT E

throughout America. The thing becomes even more absurd with

Steward : if there were 100,000 Guarani (given Steward's density
of 2 8 inhabitants per square kilometer) i n 1 5 3 0 , then this wou l d
b e t h e o n l y instance o f a population s h ow i ng a steady growth
during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries! It should not be
taken seriously.
Hence, in order to theorize about the G uaran i , i t i s necessary
to accept these basic facts: they n um bered 1, 5 00, 000 before the Con

quest, spread over 3 5 0, 000 square kilometers, with a density of a little

more than four inha bitants per square kilometer. T h i s estimate has
signi fi cant implications.
( 1 ) A s regards the "demography" that can be deduced from the
rough estimates of the chroniclers , i t m u s t be concluded that
they were right. Their evaluation s , all consistent with one another
along the same scale of populatio n , are equal l y consistent w i th
the results obtained by our calculations. This discredits trad itional
demography by demonstrating its l ack of scientifi c rigor. I t makes
one wonder why Rosenblatt, Steward, and Kroeber systematical ly
opted - against the evidence - for the smallest possible size of
the I nd ian population .
( 2 ) A s regards the question of poli tical power, I w i l l deal w i th
it extensively at a later point. 1 will confine myself for the moment
to the remark that between the l eader of a band o f Guayaki nomad
hunters consisting o f 2 5 to 3 0 persons, o r the chief o f a party of
100 warrio rs i n the Chaco , and the great m b uru vich a , the Tupi
Guarani l eaders who led armies of several thousand men into com
bat , there i s a radical difference, a d i fference i n kind .
( 3 ) But the essential point concerns the general question ofIndian
demography before the coming of the Whites. The research of
the Berkeley School for Mexico and that of Wachtel for the Andes,
in addition to converging i n their resu l t s , have i n common what
they contribute to the so-called H ighland cultures. Now, our mod-

E L E M E N TS

O F

A M E R I N D I A N

D E M O G R A P H Y

est ideas on the Guarani , a forest people , moves - from the stand
point of its results - i n the same d i rection as the works j ust alluded
to: for the peoples of the Forest, too, it is necessary to adopt the higher
population rati o . Hence , at this point I wish to affirm my agree
ment with P. Chau n u :
T h e results of Borah a n d Cook l ead t o a complete revision o f
our perception o f Ameri can h i story. I t i s no longer Dr. Rivet's
40 m i l l i on men , a figu re h e l d to be excessive, that must he

assumed for pre-Colu m b i an America, but 80 and perhaps 1 0 0

m i l l i o n sou l s . The catastrophe of t h e Conquista . . . was as great
a5

as Casas proclaimed i t to b e .

A n d t h i s chil ling conclusion : " i t appears that one-fourth of man

k i n d was a n n i h i lated by the m i c ro b i c shocks of the s i x teenth
century."8
Our anal ysis of a very l ocal ized instance of forest dwell ers ought
to appear, i f accepted , as a confi rmation o f the Berke ley hypothe
ses. It f()fces us to ad m i t the higher demographic estimate for all

ofi1mcrico , and not o n l y for the H ighland cul tures. And this author
w i l l be m o re than c o n t e n t if t h i s piece o f work on the Guaran i
i m p l i e s the conviction that it is essential "to und ertake the great
rev i s i o n which the Berkeley School has been urging us to begin
br the last

') . Ibid . p .

15

years ."')

I IH.

99

The Bow and the Basket

Wi th almost no transi t i o n , night has taken hold uf thc f()rest, and

the mass o f great trees appears to m ove nearer. Wi th the darkness
also comes s i l ence; the h i rd s and m onkeys are quiet and only the
six d i s ma l , forlorn notes o f the

uru ta u

can be heard . And , as i f by a

tacit understanding w i t h the general i ntroversion that beings and

things are preparing for, n o further sound arises from this furtively
inhabi ted space where a l i ttle group o f men i s camping. A band of
Guayak i I nd i ans has stopped here . Sti rred up from time to tim e
by a g u s t o f wind , the redd i s h glow o f s i x fam i l y fi res ex trac ts
fro m the shadows the tenuous ring o f pal m branch shelters, the
tl i msy and transi tory abode o f the nomads, each one providing

p rotection tOr a fam i l y in n e e d o f a resting p l ace. T h e whi spered

c onversations that f() l l owed the meal have gradual l y ceased ; the
women are sleeping, their arms still clasped around their curled-up
c h i l d ren . One might t h i n k that the m e n had fal len asleep. Hut
seated arou nd th e i r fi re , keeping a mute and utterly motionless
\,'atc h , they a r c n o t s l e e pi ng . Th e i r thoughtfu l gaze, d rawn t o the
ne ighboring darkness, shows

CI

d re a m y e x p ectancy. For the men

arc getti ng read y to sing , and this even i ng , as sometimes happens

at that auspicious hour, they w i l l s i ng the hunter's song, each man
singing separately: their med i tation prepares them f()r the harmony
101

S O C I E T Y

AG A I N ST

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S TA T E

of a soul and a moment that w i l l find e x pression i n the words to

come. Soon a voice i s raised up, almost i mperceptible at first, com
i ng as it does fro m within, a d iscreet murmur that refrains from
enunciating anything d istinc t , for i t i s engaged i n a patient search
for j ust the right tone and the right d iscourse. But it rises by degrees,
the s i nger i s sure of h i mself now, and suddenly, the song rushes
out, loud and free and strong . A second voi c e is stimulated and
j oi n s w i th the first, then another; words are uttered i n quick suc
cessi o n , l i ke answers always given in advance o f the questions. All
the m en are singing now. They are still motionless, their gaze a
little more lost than before; they all sing together, but each man
sings his own song. They are masters o f the night and each man
means to be master of himself.
But w ithout the knowledge of the Ach e ! [ i . e . , GuayakiJ hunt
ers , their hasty, fervent, earnest words come together i n a dialogue
they were intended to suppress.
A very noticeabl e opposition organizes and rul e s the everyday
life of the Guayaki : the opposition of men and women. Their respec
tive activities, characterized by a strict sexual d i v i s i o n of task s ,
constitute two distinctly separate domains. As w i th all Indian soci
eties, these domains are complementary, but in contrast to the
other societies, the Guayaki do not know any form of work i n
which b o t h m e n and women take part. Agric u l ture, for i nstance,
depends o n masculine and fem i ni ne activi t i e s alike, since, w h i l e
as a r u l e the women d evote themselves to the sow i ng , the weed
i ng of the gardens, and the harvesting o f vegetab l e s and grain s , i t
i s the m e n who occupy themselves w i t h ready i ng plots for plant
i ng by fel l i ng trees and burning off the d ry vegetation. But although
the roles are quite d istinct and are never e x c h ange d , they never-

1.

Ache is the self-designation of the Guayaki .

10 2

T H E

B OW

A N D

T H E

BA S K E T

theless ensure a common share i n the realization and success o f

a n enterprise a s important as agriculture .
Now, nothing similar exists among the Guayaki . Being nomads
ignorant of the art o f planting , their economy is supported solely
by exploiting the resources offered by the f()rest. These come under
t wo main headings: the yield from hunting and the yield from
gathering, the latter including most notably honey, larvae , and the
pith of the pindo pal m . One m ight think that the search for these
two classes of food conformed to the widespread South A merican
model whereby the men d o the hunting, which is only natural ,
l eaving the j ob of gathering to the women . In reality, things are
d o n e qu i te d i fferen tl y i1 mong the GU ilyak i , si nce the men do the
hunting and the gathering too. Not that they would show more
concern fi)r the leisure activities of their spouses by exempting
them from the duties that wou l d normal ly be expected o f them ;
but, in fact, the yield fi'om gathering i s obtained only at the expense
of painftll operations that the women could not accomplish with
out great difficulty : the location of the bee hives , the ex tracti on
o f honey, the fell ing of trees , etc. What i s i nvolved , then , i s a type
of gathering that properly belongs in the category of mascu l i n e
activities. Or, i n other word s , the gathering practiced el sewhere
in America and consisting of the collecting of berri es, fruits, roots ,
i n sects, and s o o n , i s prac tical ly non-e x i stent among the Guayak i ,
for the forest they occupy hard l y abounds i n resources of that sort.
l i enee, i f the women d o scarcely any collecting , this i s because
there i s v i rtua l l y noth i ng to col lect.
The economic possibilities of the Guayak i being cul turally l i m
ited by the absence of agri culture and naturally limited b y the
relative scarcity orcd i ble plant life , i t fol l ows that the task of search
ing fi)r the group's J()od provisions, begun ancw each day, fal l s essen
tially to the men. In add i tion to their fu nction - a crucial one for
nomads - of transporting the fam i l y belongings, the hunters' wives
10 3

S O C I E T Y

AG A I N ST

T H E

S TAT E

do the basketry and pottery and make the strings for the bow s ;
they d o the cooking, take care o f the c h i l d re n , and so forth. I t
turns o u t , then, that the wome n, far fro m b e i ng i d l e , devote their
enti re t i m e to the execution of all these necessary labors . B u t it
remain s true nonetheless that the c o m p letely m i n o r part played
by the women i n the basic area o f foo d "production" leaves the
men the engrossing and prestigious monopoly o f it. O r, more pre
cisely, the d i fference between the men and the women at the level
of econo m i c l i fe can be understood as the opposition of a group
of prod ucers and a group of consumers.
As will b e seen , Guayaki thought e x p resses c learly the nature
of this opposition which, because it is s i tuated at the very root of
the social l i fe of the tribe, domi nates the economy o f its everyday
e xi stence and gives meaning to a set o f attitudes into w hich the
web of social relations i s woven . The space o f nomad h unters can
not have the same dividing lines as that o f sedentary agric u ltur
ists. The latter is structured into concentric circles, w ith a division
between a cultural space comprised o f the v i l l age and gardens,
and a natural space occupied by the s u rro u n d i ng forest. I n con
trast , the Guayaki space i s continually h o m ogene o u s , reduced to
a pure e xtension in which the d i fference b e t ween nature and cul
ture i s seemingly done away w i t h . B u t i n rea l i ty the opposition
already b ro ught to light on the material plane o f l i fe furnishes the
pri n c i p l e o f a spatial d ichotomy as wel l , one that is no less perti
nent for being more concealed than i s the case i n societies belong
ing to a d i fferent cul tural level . Among the Guayaki there e x ists a
masc u l i n e s pace and a feminine space , d e fi ne d respectively by the
forest where the men do their hunting, and the encampment where
the wom en reign . It i s true that the l ayovers are very temporary:
they rarel y last more than three d ay s . B u t they are the place o f
repose w h e re the foo d prepared by the wo m e n is c o n s umed ,
whereas the forest is the p l ace of movement, the place especia lly

T H E

B O W

A N D

T H E

B A S K E T

c o n secrated to the e x c u r s i o n s of m e n b e n t on fi n d i ng g a m e . I t
s h o u l d not b e i n ferred , o f cours e , that the wo men are any l e s s
nomadi c than the m e n . B u t owi ng to t h e type of economy o n whi c h
hangs the e x i stence o f t h e tri b e , t h e true masters of t h e forest are
the men: they i nvest i t i n a real way, compelled as they are to explore
i t s every detai l i n order to systemati c al l y e x p l o i t a l l i t s resourc e s .
F o r the m e n , t h e f()rest i s a dangerous spac e , a space o f ri sks , of
ever renewed adventure, but for the wo men it is, on the contrary,
a space passed through between two stops, a monotonous and t i re
s o m e c ro s s i ng , a s i m pl e n e u tral e x pa n s e . At t h e opposite pol e ,
t h e encam p m e n t o flcrs t h e hunter t h e tranq u i l l i ty of rest and t h e
c h a n c e t o d o h i s ro u t i n e han d i work , vvhereas for t h e wom e n i t i s
t h e place where the i r spec i fi c a c t i v i ti e s a r e carried o u t and where
fam i l y l i fe u n fo l d s under t h e i r pri mary superv i s i on . The fo rest and
the enca m p m ent are thus a l l otted c o n t rary signs depend i ng on
whether i t i s the m en o r t h e women w h o are the reference po i n t .
I t m ight be said that t h e space o f t h e " d a i l y ro utine" i s the fo rest
for the wo m e n , the e n ca m p m e n t for t h e men: fo r the latter, e x i s
t e n c e o n l y b e c o m e s a u t h e n t i c w h e n t h e y g i ve i t concrete rea l i t y
as h u nters , that i s , i n the fore s t ; and for the wom e n , whe n , ceas
i ng to be a m eans o f tran sport , they arc able to l i ve in the encam p
m e n t as w i ve s a n d m o t h e rs .
I f e n c e t h e v a l u e a n d scope o f t h e s o c i o-eco n o m i c oppo s i t i o n
between m e n a n d wo m e n c a n be gauged i n sofar as i t structu res
the t i m e and space of the G u ayak i . N ow, they d o not a l l ow the
actual e x pcri e n c e of th i s pra s is to rem a i n o u ts i d e of thought: they
have a c l ear awaren e s s of i t a n d the d i seq u i l i bri u m o ft h e econom i c
re lat i o n s i s e x pressed i n t h e t h i n k i ng o f these I n d ians a s t h e opp o

sition oj the

holV a nd

the

haske t . Each o f t h e s e two i n s tru m e n ts i s i n

fac t the m ed i u m , the sign , a n d t h e s u m mary o f one o f two "sty l es"

o f e x i st e n c e that a rc a t the s a m e t i m e opposed and care fu l l y kept
s e parate. It i s hard l y n e c e s sary to stress that the bow, the h u n ters'
1 ( 1)

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

S TAT E

only weapon, is strictly a masculine too l , and that the basket, the
women's consummate obj ect, is used only by them: the men hunt,
the women carry. I n the main , G u ayaki pedagogy i s f()Unded on
this great separation of roles. Scarcely having reached the age of
four or five , the l i ttle boy receives fro m h i s father a little bow that
matches h i s size ; from that moment h e will begi n to p ractice the
art o f shooting the arrow. A few years l ater, he is given a much
larger bow, this time with effective arrows , and the birds he brings
back to his mother are proof that he i s a responsible boy and the
promise that he will be a good h u n te r. W h e n a few more years
have gone by it is time for the initiati o n ; the lower lip of the young
man of about 15 is perforated , he gain s the right to wear the labial
ornament, the beta , and h e i s now looked upon as a true h u n ter, a
ky buchuCte. This signifies that in a short w h i l e he will be able to
take a w i fe and consequently w i l l have to supply the needs of a
new househo l d . His first concern , therefore, i s to make hi mself a
bow ; henceforth a "productive" member of the band , he will hunt
with a weapon shaped by his han d s and nothing b u t d eath or old
age w i l l separate him from his bow. The ,voman's lot is comple
mentary and parallel . The nine- o r ten-year-ol d l i ttle girl receives
from her mother a miniature basket , the making o f which she has
followed w i th rapt attention. Doubtless she carri es nothing insid e ,
b u t the gratuitous posture s h e assumes w h i l e walking, h e r head
lowered and her neck straining in anticipation o f i ts effort to come,
prepares her for a future that is very ncar. For the appearance of
her first menstruation , around the age of 1 2 o r 1 3 , and the ritual
that rat i fies the advent o f womanhood m ake the you ng \\oman
into a dare, a woman soon to be the w i fe o f a hunter. A s the fi rst
task requ i red by her new statu s , and the mark o f her defi ni tive
condition, she then makes her own baske t . And each o f the two ,
the young man and the young woman , master and pri soner, thus
gains entry into adulthood. In the end, when the hunter dies, his
106

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B O W

A N D

T H E

B A S K E T

bow and arrows are ritual l y b u ri e d , a s i s t h e woman's l as t baske t :

fo r, b e i ng t h e very signs o f t h e p e rs o n s , t h ey cannot o u t l i ve them .
The G u ayak i experience t h e e ffects o f t h i s great opposi tion, on
w h i c h the o p e ration o f their s o c i e t y depends, th rough a system
o f reci p rocal p ro h i b i t i o n s : o n e t()rb i d s t h e women to touch t h e
h u nter's bow, the o t h e r k e e p s the m en fro m han d l i ng the basket .
Genera l l y speaking, the tools and i n s truments arc s e x ual l y neu
ter, so to speak : men and women alike can make use o f them . T h i s
taboo w i th respect to physical c o n tact w i t h t h e m o s t palpab l e
e m b l e m s o f t h e opposi te s e x t h u s m a k e s i t p o s s i b l e to avo i d any
transgre s s i o n o f the s o c i o - s e xual order that governs the l i fe of the
grou p . It is scrupu l o u s l y re spec ted , a n d o n e never w i tnesses t h e
bi zarre m e e t i n g of a woman a n d a b ow, n o r, too l u d i crous t o i mag
i n e . that of a hunter and a b a s k e t . T h e fee l i ngs evoked in each o f
t h e s e x e s relative t o t h e p ri v i l eged obj ect o f the other s e x are very
cl i ffe re n t : a h u n ter c o u l d n o t b e a r the s h a m e o f carry i ng a baske t ,
whereas h i s ,v i fe \\ ou l d b e a frai d to touch h i s bow. T h i s i s becau se
c o n tact b e tween a woman and a bow is m u ch more serious than
that bet ween a man a n d a b a s k e t . I fa wo m a n were to take it upon
h e rs e l f to l ay h o l d ofa b ow, s h e wou l d c e rt a i n l y b r i ng d own on i ts
ow n e r the pane, that i s , bad l u c k at h u n t i ng , w h i c h wou l d be d i sas
t rous t(J r the G u aya k i e c o n o m y. /\ s lil r t h e h u n te r, t h e th i ng h e
sees i n the basket and s h r i n k s fi'om i s pre c i s e l y t h e potential threat
o f what h e fea rs above all e l s e , t h e

pane.

For w h e n ev e r a m a n fa l l s

v i c t i m to t h i s veri table c u r s e , b e i ng u n a b l e to pe rfo rm h i s h u n t

er's fu n c t i o n , h e l oses h i s own nature b y t h a t very tac t, h e is d rained

0 1 h i s s u b s ta n c e : lil rccd to a b a n d o n a now useless bow, t here is

noth i ng l e ft t() r h i m h u t t o f() rfc i t h i s m as c u l i n i t y and , a t rag i c a n d
re s i g n e d fi g u r e , take u p a baske t . T h e h a rs h l aw o f t h e G u ayak i
leaves thelll n o way o u t . T h e m e n have no e x i s t e n c e e x c e p t as
h u n t ers, a n d t h ey re m a i n s ec u re in t h e i r b e i ng by p re s e rv i ng the i r
bow fro m t h e contact o f wo m e n . Conversely. if a n i n d i v i d u al no
1 07

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

STAT E

longer manages to realize himself as a hunter, at the same time he

ceases to be a man. Going from the bow to the basket, metaphori
cal l y he becomes a woman . As a matter of fact, the conj unction of
the man and the bow cannot be broken without changing into its
complementary opposite : that o f the woman and the basket .
N o w t h e logic o f this closed system , mad e u p of fou r terms
grouped into two opposite pairs, was actually fulfilled: among the
Guayaki there were two men who carrie d baskets. One, named
Chachubutawachugi , was pane. H e did not possess a bow and the
only hunting he occasionally indulged i n was the capture, by hand,
of armadillos and coatis . A lthough this type o f hunting i s com
monly practiced by all the Guayaki , it i s far fro m being regarded
by them as having the same dignity as bow hunting, the jyvondy.
Added to this was the circumstance that Chachubutawachugi was
a widower; and since he was pane no woman would have anything
to do with him , not even as a secondary husban d . Nor did he try
to b e integ rated into the family of one of his relative s : t h e l atter
would have found the continual presence o f a man , whose techni
cal i ncompetence was aggravated by an excellent appetite, unde
sirable. Without a bow and hence without a wife , he had no further
choice but to accept his sad lot. He never accompanied the o ther
men on their hunting expeditions , but went o ff alone, or in the
company o f women, to look for the l arvae, honey, or fruit he had
spotted previously. And in order to carry the results of his gather
i ng, he toted a basket which a woman had given to h i m as a pres
ent. H is access to women barred by bad l uck at hunting, he lost,
i n part at l east, his manly quality and thus f(lUn d h i msel f relegated
to the symbolic field of the basket .
T h e second i nstance i s slightly d i ffere n t . K rembegi w a s in fact
a sodomite. He l i ved as a woman in the midst o f women, as a rule
wearing h i s hair conspicuously l o nger than the other men, and
only doing a woman's work: he knew how to "weave" and from
1 08

T H E

B OW

A N D

T H E

B A S K E T

the animal teeth the hunters gave him he made bracelets that dem
onstrated an artistic taste and aptitude that were much more pro
nounced than in the things made b y the women. And fi nally, he
was of course the owner of a basket. I n hrief, Krembegi thus testi
fi ed to the existence within G u ayaki cuI ture of a refinement ordi
naril y reserved for less rustic societi e s . This incom prehensible
pederast conceived of himself as a woman and had adopted the
attitudes and behavior peculiar to that sex. ror e xample , he would
re fuse the contact o f a bow w i th as much conviction as a hunter
would that of a basket; he considered his rightfu l place to be the
world of women. Krembegi was homosexual because he was panli.
Perhaps h i s bad l uck at hunting also stemmed from his being pre
viously an u nconscious invert. At any rate, the confi dential asides
o f his compan ions let it b e known that his homosexual i ty had
become official , that is, socially recognized , when it became appar
ent that he was incapable of using a bow: to the Guayaki them
selves, he was a kyvpy-meno ( an us-make l ove ) because he was pane.
Moreover, the Ache maintained a quite difh:rent attitude towards
each o f the two b a s k e t carri ers m e n t i oned above . The fi r s t ,
Chachubu tawachugi , was t h e butt o f general ri d i c u l e , al beit free
o f real meanness. The men made light o f h i m more or less open ly,
the wo men laughed behind h i s back , and the children respected
him much less than the rest of the adu l t s . Krembegi on the con
trary attracted no spec ial attenti o n ; h i s i neptness as a hunter and
h i s homose xual i ty were deemed evident and taken for granted .
Now and then certai n hunters wou l d make h i m their sexual part
ner, d i s playing in these erotic games more bawd iness - it wou ld
seem - than perversion. B u t th i s never resu l ted i n any feeling o f
scorn f()r him on their part. Reci procal ly, these two Guayaki showed
themselves to be u neve n l y adapted to their new status, thus con
form i ng to the i mage the i r own soc i e ty created for them . J u st as
K rembeg i was comfortabl e , placi d , and serene in his rol e of a man
1 09

S O C I E T Y

A G A I f\J S -r

T H E

STAT E

he come a \voman , so Chachubutawachugi appeared anxious, ner

YOUS ,

and o ften d iscontent . VI/ h a t explains this d i fference, brought

by the Ache into the treatment accorded two i n d i v i du a l s who, at

l east i n formal terms, were negatively identical? The e x p l anation is
that, whi l e they both occupied the same position i n relation to
the other men i n that they were both p ane, their positive status
ceased to be equinlent because one, Chachubutawachugi , although
forced to g i ve up in part h i s masc u l i n e attributes, had remained a
man, whereas the other, K rembeg i , had gone so far a s to assume
the ultimate consequences of his condition as a non-h u n t i ng man
by "becom i ng" a woman . Or, in other word s , the latter's homo
sexuality had permitted him to fin d the topos he was logical l y
consigned to by his unfitness to occupy the space of men; in return ,
the other man, refu s i ng the movem e n t o f the same l ogic , was
expelled from the c i rc l e o f the m e n , b u t w i th o u t b e i ng assim i
l ated into that o f the women . This meant that, consequently, he

literally was nowhere, and that h e was in a much m o re uncomfort

able situation than K rembegi . In the eyes o f the A ch e , the latter
occupied a well defined , though paradoxical place ; as h i s position
i n the gro u p was in a sense uncompro m i s e d by any ambigui ty, it
came o u t as normal , even i f this n e w n o rm was that of women .
Chachu b ut awach ugi , on the other hand , consti t uted i n h i s very
person a k i nd of logical scanda l . B e c a u s e h e was n o t s i tuated i n
a n y clearly d e fi n e d plac e , he evaded the s y s t e m and i ntroduced an
element o f d i sorder into it: from a certain v i ewpoint it could be
said th at th e abnormal w a s none other than h e . W h e n c e n o doubt
the secret aggressiveness o f the G u ayaki toward s him that some
times could be d etected underneath the d e ri s i o n . \Vhence too ,
more than l ikely, the psychological d i ffi c u l t i e s h e w a s experienc
i ng, and an acute feel i ng of abandonment: that i s how d i fFicult i t
is t o maintain the absurd conjunction o f a man and a basket. Patheti
cally, Chachubutawachugi tried to remain a man without being a
1 10

T H E

B OW

A N D

T H E

B ASK E T

hunter: he thus l ay h i m s e l f open to ridicule and j eers, for he was

the point o f contact between t wo areas that are normally separate.
I t i s logical to assume that these two men preserved with respect
to their baskets the d i Hcrence in the relationships they entertained
w i th their masc u l i n i ty. As a matter o f fact K rembegi carried h i s
basket l i ke the wom e n , t h a t i s , w i th the headband round his fore

hea d. As for Chachubutawachug i , he passed the same bandeau round

his chest and never round his forehead . This was a notoriously uncom
fortabl e way of carryi ng a basket , more t i ring than any other; but
fo r him i t was also the only means o f showing that, even w i thout a
bow, he ,,'as still a man .
Central in its position and powerful in i ts eHects, the great oppo
sition of men and wom e n thus p u ts i ts stamp on all aspects of
G uayaki l i fe . I t is again t h i s opposition that underl i es the d i ffer
ence between the singing of the men and that of the women. The
masculine prera and the fem i n i ne chengaru vara in fact arc total oppo
sites in style and content . They e x press two modes of e x i stence ,
t w o presences i n t h e worl d , t w o v a l u e systems that are q u i te d i f
fCrent li'o m one another. T h e n aga i n , one can scarcely speak of
singing where the wo men arc concern e d ; i t is real l y a matter o f a
genera l i zed "tearfu l sal u ta t i o n " : even w h e n they are not ri tua l l y
gre c t i ng a stranger or a re lative w h o h a s been absent t()r a l ong
w h i l e , t h e wo m e n " s i ng" w h i l e weeping. I n a plaintivc to n e , but
loud voices, squatting w i t h thei r taces h i d d e n by their hands, they
punc tuate every phrase with their chant com posed of strident sob
bing. O ften all the wom e n sing together and the d i n created by
their concerted wai l i ng ex erts on the unwitting listener an impres
sion of malaise. One's su rprise is o n l y i n c reased by the sight of the
wee pers' cal m laces and d ry eyes w h e n everything i s over. I t is
a p p ro p riate to note in add i ti o n that t h e wo men's singing al ways
occurs on ritual occasi o n s ; e i t h e r d u ring the principal ceremo
nies o f Guayaki soc ie ty, or by tak i ng advan tage o f the many opporIII

SOCI E T Y

A G A I NST

T H E ST A T E

tunities provided by everyday I i fl- . For example, a hunter brings

some animal into the camp: a woman "greets" i t by crying because
i t call s to mind some departed relative; o r agai n , if a c h i l d hurts
h i m s e l f w h i l e playing, his mother i m m e d i a t e l y b reaks i n to a

chen8a ru va ra exactly l i ke all the others. The women's si ngi ng i s

never j oy fu l , a s one might expect. T h e themes o f the songs are
al ways death, i l l n ess, and the v i o l e n c e of the w h i te s , and the
women thus take upon themselves a l l the pain and all the angui s h
o f the Ache .
The contrast i t forms to the singi ng of the men i s startl ing. I t
seems that among the Guayaki there e x i sts a sort of sexual d i v i
sion oflinguistic labor i n keepi ng with which all the negative aspects
o f exi stence are taken over by the wo men, whereas the men dedi
cate themselves to cel ebrating, i f n o t the p leasures of e x istence,
at l east the values that make i t bearab l e . \V h i l e i n h e r very ges
tures the woman hides and appears to humbl e hersel f in order to
sing, or rather weep, the hunter, on the contrary, with head held
h igh and body straigh t , g l o r i fi e s h i m s e l f in his song. H i s sel f
assurance asserts i tsel f i n the ex treme v i ri l i t y the h u n ter bri ngs to
his singing, a harmony with onese l f that nothing can deny. The
l anguage of the mascul i n e song, m oreover, is highly d istorte d . As
i ts i mprov i sation becomes progressively more fl uent and ri c h , as
the words fl ow out eHortlessly, the s i nger s u bj ects them to such a
rad ical transformation that after a w h i l e one wou l d think he were
hearing another language : for a non-Ache, these songs are strictly
incomprehensibl e . With regard to t h e i r thematic composition, i t
basicall y consists o f a n emphatic praise w h i ch the si nger d i rects
at himself. In point o f fact, the conten .f h i s d i scourse i s strictl y
personal and everythi ng in it is said i n the first person. The men
speak almost exclusive l y of the i r e x p l o i ts as hunters, of the ani
mals they have encountered , th e i nj u r i e s they have received , thei r
ski l l at shooting arrows. This i s a l e i tmoti f that i s repeated i ndefi 112

T H E

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T H E

B A S K E T

nitdy, and one hears it proclaimed i n a manner that is almost obses

si onal :

cho r6 bretete, cho r6 jy vondy, cho r6 xrna lVach u, yrna chija

("I

a m a great h u nter, I am in t h e h ab i t o f k i l l i ng w i th my arrows , I

am a powerful nature , a nature i n c e n s e d and aggressive ! " ) . And
o ften , as i f to i n d i cate how i n d i s p u table h i s glory is, he punctu
ates his phrase by e x t e n d i ng it with a vigorous

rho, cho, cho ( " m e ,

me, me" ). 2
The d i fference i n t h e songs adm i rab l y conveys the opposi tion
o f the sexes. The wo men's s o ng i s a l a m e n t that i s most frequently
c h oral , nearly al ways h eard d u ri n g the day ; that o f the men nearly
al ways b u rsts f()rth at nigh t , and w h i l e t h e i r sometimes s i m u l ta
neous voices can give the i mpression ofa choir, th i s is a false appear
anc e , because each s i nger i s actual l y a s o l o i s t . Furtherm ore , the
fe m i n i n e

chengaruvara appears

to consist of mechanicall y repeated

fo rmulas adapted to the vari o u s ritual c i rcumstances. In contrast,

the

prcrii o f the

hunt ers d e p e n d s o n l y on their m o o el and i s organ

i zed s o l e l y i n terms o f t h e i r i n d i v i d uali ty. I t i s a purely personal

i m p rov i sation that perm i ts a search for art i stic effects i n the play
of the v o i c e . Thus the c o l l e c t i ve q u a l i ty of the wo me n's s i ng i ng
and i n d i v i d u al qua l i ty of the m e n's re fers us back to the oppo s i
t i o n w e started li'o m : as the o n l y tru l y " prod u c t i n' " e l e m e n t o f
G u ayak i soc i e t y, the h u n te rs e x p e r i e n c e a crea t i ve freed o m i n t h e
d o m a i n o f l anguage that th e i r pos i t i o n a s "consumer group" d e n i es
the wo m e n .
Now th i s free d o m l i ve d a n d e x p re s s e d by the men as h u n ters i s
not j u st a t o k e n o f t h e n a t u r e o f t h e relat i o n sh i p whereby the men
as a group are t i ed to t h e wo m e n a n d set apart from them . For,
through the men's s i ng i ng , a s ec o n d , secret oppos i t i o n i s uncov2.

As m i g h t

bl' l' X PCCll' d ,

t h e 1 W() PO/)(: lut' n

j u st fl' k rrcd t o m a i n t a i ned

v(' r y d i lk rl' n t

a t t i t u d e s towards t h t, s i n g i ng : C h J c h ll b u tlwac h u g i s a n g o n l y d u r i ng c e r t a i n c e re m o n i e s
c<tl l i ng f ( J r h i s d i re c t- part i c i pa t i o n , t ( ) r i n s t a n c e , t h e b i r t h o f a c h i l d . K rc lll iwgi never sang.

1 13

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N S T

T H E

STAT E

ered , thi s o n e n o l e s s powerfu l than the fi r s t b u t u n c o n sc i o u s :

opposition of the hunters amana themselves.

the

A n d i n order to better l i s

ten to t h e i r song and tru l y understand w h a t i t i s say i n g , we m u s t

g o b a c k once agai n to the ethnology o f t h e G u ayaki a n d the basic
d i mensions o f the i r c u I lure.
For the Ache hunter there is an a l i m e n tary taboo that catego ri
cal l y fo rbi d s him to consume the meat o f h i s own k il l :

ja uemere

bai jyvom bre

( ,'The ani m a l s one has k i ll e d must not b e eaten by one

s e l f." ) . So that when a man arrives at t h e e n c a m p m e n t h e d i v i d e s

t h e product o f h i s h u n t between h i s fam i l y ( wi fe and c h i ldren )
and the other m e m b e rs of the ban d ; naturall y, h e w i l l n o t partake
of the meat prepared by h i s w i fe . Now, as we have seen , game
occupies the most i mportant place in the G u ayaki d i e t . The res u l t
i s t h a t every m a n w i l l s p e n d h i s l i fe h u n t i ng fiJ r t h e o t h e rs ' benefi t
and rece i v i ng from t h e m h i s o w n n o u r i s h m e n t . T h i s p ro h i b i t i o n
i s scrupu l o u s l y honored , even by the b o y s w h e n t h e y k i l l b i r d s .
O n e o f the m o s t i mp o rtant conseq u e n c e s i s that n e c e s s i ty p re
vents the I n d i ans fro m scattering in e l e m en tary fam i l i e s : u n l e s s
he gave up the tabo o , the m a n woul d d i e o f h u nger. T h i s makes i t
necessary to move i n a gro u p . To acc o u n t for t h i s , the Guayaki
hold that eating t h e ani mals k i l l ed by o n e s e l f i s t h e s u r e s t way to
d raw the

pane down

upon oneself. Th i s m aj o r fear o f the hun ters

is s u ffi c i e n t t o impose respec t fo r the proh i b i ti o n i t e s t ab l i shes : i f

o n e wan ts to continue k i l l i ng a n i m a l s , o n e m u s t n o t e a t them .
The i ndigenous t h e o ry i s s i m p l y based on t h e i d e a t h a t the con
j unction b etween the hunter and dead an i m a l s in the s phere of
consumption would be fol l owed by a d i sj unction between the hunt
ers and l i v i ng an i m a l s in the sphere o f " p ro d uc t i o n ." Hence i t s
thrust i s essential l y n egative s i n c e i t resolves i n to t h e fo rbi d d i ng
of that conj u ncti o n .
I n rea l i ty, t h i s food taboo a l s o possesses a p o s i tive valu e in that
it operates as a s t ru c t u ral pri n c i p l e which f() rms t h e v e r y basis o f
1 14

T H E

B O W

AND

T H E

B A SK E T

G uayaki society. By setting u p a n egative relation between each

G uayaki h u n ter and the product o f his hunt, i t places all the men
in the same position relative to o n e another, and the rec i p roc i ty
o f the g i ft o f food reveals i ts e l r t o be n o t o n l y possible but i m pera
tive: e\'tTy hunter is at the same t i m e a g i ver and a taker of meat.
The taboo regard ing game appears , then , as the founding act o f
t h e exchange o f tood among the G u ayak i , that i s , as t h e fou nda
tion o f their societ y i tsel f: Other soc ieties no doubt are acq uainted
wi th th i s same taboo. But among the Guayaki i t assumes an espe
cially great i m portance fro m the fact that it relates precisely to
their main source o f nouri s h m e n t . B y compel ling t h e i n d i v i dual
to part w i th h i s ow n gam e , i t obl iges h i m to place trust i n others,
thus a l l ow i ng the social t i e to be j oi n ed i n a defi n i tive way. The
i n terdependence of the h u n ters guarantees the sol i d i ty and p er
manence of that t i e , a n d t h e soc i e t y gains i n strength \\'hat the
i n d i viduals l ose i n autonomy. The d i sj u n ction of the h u nter and
h i s game establishes the conj u n c t i o n o f the hu nters among them
selves, that i s , the con trac t that gove rns G uayaki soc i e ty. F u rther
m o r e , the d i sj u n c t i o n i n t h e s p h e re o f consumpti on b e t w e e n
h u n ters a n d d ead animals, b y p rotec t i ng the t()rmer ho m t h e pone,
e n s u re s the hl t u re repet i t i o n of the conj u n c t i o n between hun ters
and l i v i ng a n i ma l s , that i s , success at h u n t i ng and , conseq u e n t l y,
the s ur v i v ,l l o f soc i l' t y.
By ban i s h i ng d i rect contact between the h u n te r and h i s o w n
g a m e to t h e real m o f Nature , the a l i m e n tary taboo places i tse l f at
the heart of Cu lture: it i n terposes t h e m ed iation ofthc other h u n t
e rs b e t w e e n the h u n t e r a n d h i s foo d s u p p l y. T h u s we see t h e
exchange o f game , w h i c h i n large measu re c i rc umscribes econom i c
l i fe among t h e G uayak i , t ra n s tiJ rm each i n d i vidual h u n ter, by v i r
tue of i t s restra i n i ng charac ter, i nto a re/a/ ion . T h e treachero u s s pace
of proh i b i t ion

and tra n sgression l i es deep between the h u n te r and

h i s "prod uct"; the fear o f the p a n e lays the foundation for e xchange
I l l)

SO C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

STAT E

by depri vi ng the hunter of any right to h i s own gam e : he only has a

right to the game of others . Now, i t i s stri k i ng to d i s c over that th i s
same relational structure whereby t h e m e n are strictly defined a t
t h e l evel o f the c i rculation of goods i s repeated i n the domain of
matrimonial institutions.
A s early as the beginning of the s i x teenth century, the first Jesuit
m i s s i onarie s had tried , i n vai n , to make c o n tact w i t h the Guayak i .
They were able , however, to gather a l arge a m o u n t o f i n formation
about that mysterious tri b e , and they l earned i n this way, to their
great surpri se, that, contrary to what occurred among the other
savages , am ong the Guayaki there was a prepond erance o f men
over wo m e n . They were not mis taken , for, nearly

400 years after

them , I was able to observe the same d i s e q u i l i b r i u m i n the sex

rat i o : in o n e of the two southern g ro u p s , for i nstance , there was
exactly one woman for every two m e n . There is n o need to look
i n to the causes o f this anomaly here , 3 b u t i t is i m po rtan t to e xam
ine the c o nsequences of i t . No matter what type o f marri age i s
preferred by a socie ty, there i s al ways about t h e same number o f
potential w i ves as husbands . The G u ayaki s o c i ety had a choice
among several solutions for equalizing these two numbers [0 begin
.

with , since the suicidal solution of aban d o n i ng the incest prohi

b i ti o n was not possible, t h e society c o u k l have engaged i n male
infanticid e . But every male child is a future hunter, that i s , an essen
tial member of the community: hence it wou l d have b e e n contra
d i c tory to get rid of them. I t also wou l d have b e e n p o s s i b l e t o
acce p t t h e e xistence o r a relative l y l arge n u m b e r o f bachelors; b u t
this c h o i c e woul d have b e e n even m o r e r i s k y than the fi rst because
in societies as demographically reduced as thi s one, there i s noth
i ng more dangerous to the e q u i l i b r i u m o f the group than a bache
l or. So, i n s tead of artificially d i m i n i shing the n u m b e r o f possible
3.

Pi erre Clastres, Chronique des Indicns Guay aki, Paris, P I o n ,

1 16

1972.

T H E BOW A N D T H E BASKE1

husban d s , nothing remained b u t to i n c rease the number o f actual

husbands each woman c o u l d have , t h a t i s , insti tute a system of
p o l yandric marriage . And i n point o f fac t , the entire surplus of
men i s absorbed by the women i n the form o f secondary husban d s ,

jap cvva , who "v i l l occupy a place b e s i d e the shared w i fe nearly as

enviable as that o f the imete o r p r i n c i pal husban d .
Thus G u ayaki s o c i e t y w a s a b l e to preserve i t s e l f fro m a mortal
danger by adap t i ng the c o nj ugal fam i l y to this completely unbal
anced demography. What d o e s that i m p l y from the men's stand
point? Virtuall y none o f them can conj ugate his w i fe i n the singular,
so to speak , since he is n o t the o n l y h usband and shares w i th o n e
a n d sometimes even two other m e n . ODf m ight think that, in view
o f i t s b e i ng the cul tural norm in and by w h i c h the men define
themselves, this s i tuation wou l d n o t a ffect them and they woul d
not react t o i t i n any e s p e c i a l l y pronounced way. I n actual fac t ,
t h e relationship between the c u l ture and the i n dividuals i n whom
i t i s embodied is not mechanical , and the Guayaki husbands, w h i l e
t h e y acc e p t t h e o n l y p o s s i b l e s o l u t i o n to t h e problem confron t
i ng the m , have d i ffi c u l ty i n res i g n i ng themselves to i t nonethe
less. The polyandric households l ead a tranquil existence no doubt,
and the three e l e m e n t s of the c o n j ugal triang l e l i ve i n m u t u a l
re spec t . That does n o t a l ter the fac t t h a t the men almost al ways
harbor - f()r they never tal k abou t i t between themselves - fee l i ngs
of i rritati o n , not to say aggressiveness towards the co-proprietor
o f their w i fe . I n the c o u rs e o f my stay among the G uayak i , a mar
ried woman became i nvo l ved i n a l ove aHair w i th a young bache
l o r. The fu rious h u sband fi rst lashed o u t at his rival , th e n , u p o n
t h e i n s i s t e n c e and t h e b l a c k m a i l o f h i s w i fe , he fi n a l l y agreed t o
make the situation l egal b y a l l ow i ng the clandestine l over t o become
the o ffi c i a l secondary h u shand to his s p o u s e . For that matter, he
had no c h o i c e ; i f he had refu s e d t h i s arrangemen t , his w i fe might
have deserted him, thereby c o n d e m n i ng him to celi bacy, as there
1 17

S O C I E T Y A G A I N S T T H E S TAT E

was no o t h e r avai l a b l e woman in the t r i b e . Moreover, group pres

sure, concerned about eliminating any clisruptive elements, sooner
o r later wou l d have c o m p e l l e d him to c o n fo r m t o an i n s ti tu t i o n
meant p reci s e l y to s o l ve t h i s s o r t o f p rob l e m . H e resigned h i m
self therefore , t o shari ng h i s wife w i th another, but entirely against
h i s wi l l . A t about the same time, the secondary h u s band o f anoih e r
woman d i e d . H i s relations w i th the p r i n c i p a l h u sb a n d had a l w ay s
been goo d : marked i f not b y an e x treme c o rd i a l i t y, at l east by an
unfai l i ng cou rtesy. But the surv i v i ng il71 Cte s t i l l d i d n o t a p p e a r to
b e e s p e c i a ll y heartbroken to see t h e jap esVl'a pass o n . H e d i d n o t
c o n c e a l h i s satisfacti o n : " j am pleased , " h e s ai d , " now j am my
w i fe's only husband ."
More e xamples o f this k i n d c o u l d be c i t e d , b u t t h e two cases
j ust alluded to suffice to show that while G u ayaki m e n accept poly
and ry, they are far from fee l i ng at ease w i t h i t . There is a sort o f
"gap" b etween th i s matri m onial i n s t i t u t i o n that e tfe c t i v e l y pro
tects t h e i n t egri ty o f the gro u p , and t h e i n d i v i d u a l s it affects . 4
The m e n a p prove o f pol yandry because i t i s n e c e s sary owing t o
t h e s h ortage of wom en, b u t they s u ffe r i t as a v e r y d i sagreeabl e
obl igati o n . M any Guayaki husbands have to sh are t h e i r w i fe w i t h
anoth e r man , and as regard s those who e x e r c i s e t h e i r conj ugal
r i g h t s a l o n e , they run the risk of s e e i ng t h i s rare and frag i l e
mono p o l y t e rminated by the c o m p e t i t i o n of a b ac h e l o r o r w i d
ower. Guayaki husbands consequently play a mediating role between
w i fe givers and wife takers , and also between the takers themseh es.
4 . Te n years o r s o belore, a s p l i t had d i v i d e d t h e A c h e G a t ll t r i h e . T h e " i te or t h e c h i e f

w a s h ew i ng t' ' d r,1-ma r i t a l re l a t i ons w i t h a young m a n . T h e h u sb a n d h a d gn)\\' n v e ry ,1llgry

a n d broke o /Hrorn the groll I' , tak i ng a part o f the G u aya k i a l o n g w i t h h i m . He even threat
e n e r! t o massacre w i t h arro\\,,, t hose \\ h o d i d not kd l o \\' h i m . It \\'e1,) o n h :lIt e r sen'raJ
m o n t h s h a d passed that the fear o f l o s i ng his w i ll- a n d the c o l l ec t i v e p r e s s u re of the A c h
(; a t u l e d h i m t o acknow l e dge h i s w i le's l ov e r as h e r fa/Jell

1 18

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The exchange through w h i c h a man gives h i s daughter or s is ter to

another does not end the c i rculation - as i t were - of that woman:
the receiver of this " message" sooner or later w i l l have to share
the " readi ng" of it w i t h another man . The exchange of women in
i tself is a maker o f alli ances b etween families; but polyandry i n i t s
Guayaki form superimposes i tself on t h e exchange of women i n
order to fi l l a q u i t e speci fi c func ti o n : i t makes i t possible t o pre
serve as a cul ture the social l i fe that the group achi eves through
the exchange of wom e n . Stri c tl y speak i ng, marriage among the
Guayaki can only b e polyand r i c since only i n this form does it
acquire the value and the i m p o rtance of an institution that i s con
tinually creating and maintaini ng the soci ety as such . I f the Guayaki
were to rej ect polyandry, t h e i r society would not endure; being
unabl e , due to their small numbers , to obtain women for them
selves by attacking other tri b e s , they wou l d face the prospect o f a
c i v i l war betvveen bachelors a n d possessors of w i ves, that i s , a col
lective suicide of the tri b e . I n t h i s way, polyand ry suppre sses the
opposition occasi oned by the scarcity o f women.
Hence i t i s a k i nd o f reason o f State that determ i nes G uayak i
husbands to accept pol yand ry. Each o f t h e m fo rgoes t h e e x c l u s i ve
usc of h i s spouse f(Jr th e b e n e fi t o f s o m e bac h e l o r o f t h e tribe , so
that the tribe can c o n t i nue to e x i s t as a soc i a l u n i t . By re l i n c] u i sh
ing o n e hal f o f the i r matri m o n i a l righ ts, A c h e husbands make com
munal l i tc and the survival of soc iety possi ble. But, as the anecdotes
reported above s h ow, that docs not prevent l a t e n t fee l i ngs o ffrus
tration and d i scontent fro m e x i sting : one agrees i n the end to share
h i s w i fe w i th another becau se o n e c a n n o t do otherw i s e , but t h i s
i s d o n e w i th obv i o u s i l l -h u m o r. Eve ry G uayak i man i s a pote n t i a l
w i fe g i ver or w i fe rec e i ve r. Long b e f()lT mak i ng u p f() r the woman
h e has rec e i ved by the daughter s h e w i l l give h i m , h e w i l l have to
o ffer another man his o w n w i fe w i t h o u t rec i p rocity b e i ng estab
l i shed , someth i ng that i s not possi b l e : the w i fe i s given too , bef()re
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the daughter. This means that among the G u ayaki a man is a hus
band only by agreeing to be half a husban d , amI the superiority of
the principal husband over the secondary h u sband does nothing
to alter the fact that the first must take the rights o f the second
into account. I t i s not the personal relations between brothers-in
law that are most outstanding , but those between the h usbands of
the same wife and , as we have seen , they are most often negative.
I s it now possible to d iscern a structural analogy between the
relationship of the hunter to his game and that o f the husband to
his wife ? First, we observe that animals and wives occupy an equiva
lent position with regard to the man as hunter and as h usband . I n
one case , the man finds himself radically separated fro m the prod
uct of his hunt, since he must not consume i t ; in the other, he is
never completely a husband, he is no more than a hal f-husband at
best: a third person comes b etween a man and h i s w i fe , namely
the secondary husband. Hence, j ust as a man depends o n the hunt
i ng of others for his own food, similarly i n order to "consume" his
wife , S a husband depends on the other husban d , whose desires he
must respect i f co-existence i s not to be rendered impossibl e . So
the polyandric system doubly restricts the matrimonial rights of
each husband: with reference to the men who neutralize each other,
as i t were, and with reference to the woman who , knowing ful l
well how to profi t from the situation, i s n o t at a l o s s when it comes
to dividing her husbands in order to e xtend her reign over them .
Consequently, from a formal viewpoin t , game i s to the hunter
what the wik is to the husband, inasmuch a s both h ave only a
mediated relationsh i p to the man : for every Guayaki hunter, the
relationship to animal food and to women goes by way of other
men . The very special circumstances of their life f()rce the Guayaki
5.

It is n o t a matter o f a p l ay on words: i n Guayak i , the same word d e s ignates t h e act of

fee d i ng onese l f and m a k i ng l ove

( l'ku).

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t o a l l o t exchange and reci proc i ty a c o e ffi c i e n t of severi ty that i s

m u c h greater t h an e l s e w h e re , and t h e demands o f t h i s hyper
exchange are so oppre s s i ve as to weigh on the consciousness o f
t h e I nd i an s a n d s o m e t i m e s give r i s e to conflicts stemming fro m
the n e c e s s i t y of polyandry. Actuall y, i t should be n o t e d that for the

male Indians themselves t h e o b l igati o n

to give away their game is by

no means experienced as s u c h , w h e reas sharing a wife is fel t as

alienation . Rut i t is the formal identity of the twofold relation hunter
game and husband- w i fe that ought to b e s tressed here . The a l i
mentary taboo a n d the shortage o f women perform, each i n i t s
o w n sphere , para l l e l fimc t i o n s : safeguard i ng the e x istence of the

,ociety t h rough the i n t e rdependence o f t h e men, and i n suring i t s

continuation through the sharing o f the women . Pos i t i ve i n t h e
s e n s e t h a t t h e y conti nual l y create and re-create t h e social struc
ture i tse lf these functions are also coupled wi th a negative dimen
s i o n i n that they put between t h e man, on one side, h i s game and
his w i fe , on the other, a l l t h e d i stance that i nheres i n t h e social
field. It i s h e re that the s t ructural relation of man to the essence
o f the group i s determ i n e d , that is, exchange . I n fac t , the gift of
game and the shari ng o f w i ve s refer respectively to two of the three
main su pports on w h i c h the c u l tural ed i fice rests: the exchange
of good s and the e x c h ange of wo m e n .
T h i s twofold and i d e n t i c a l rel a t i o n sh i p of m e n to their socie ty,
even though it never emerges in t h e i r consciousne s s , is not s tat i c ,
h owever. On t h e contrary, b e i ng a l l t h e more active fo r remai n i ng
unconsc i o u s , i t is what d e fi n e s the very s i ngular relation of the
hunters t o t h e t h i rd order o f real i t y : language as the e x c h ange of
messages . For, in their singing , the men express both the unthought
k n owl edge of t h e i r l o t as h u n t e rs and h u s bands , and t h e i r protest
against that lot. In this manner, the complete configuration fo rmed
by the threefold connection of the men to exchange becomes clear:
the indivi dual hunter occupies its center while the symbol i c world
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of good s , wome n , and words marks o u t i t s periphery. But whi l e

the relationship of the man to game and t o women consists of a
disjunction that f()lmds society, his relati o n s h i p to language con
denses, i n the song, i nto a conj unction that i s sufficiently radical
to negate precisely language's communicative function and , thereby,
exchange itself. Consequently, the hunter's song assumes a posi
tion which i s symmetri cal to and the reverse o f the food taboo
and polyandry, and i t shows by its form and its content that the
men, as hunters and husbands , want to n egate the latter.
I t w i l l b e recalled that the content o f the masculine songs i s
highly personal , always delivered in the fl rs t person , a n d strictly
devoted to p rai s i ng the singer in his capacity as a good hunter.
Why i s that the case ? The men's song , w h i l e i t is certainl y lan
guage , i s however no longer the ordinary language of everyday l i fe ,
t h e language that enables the exchange of l i ng u i stic s igns to take
place . Indeed i t i s t h e opposi te. I f t o speak i s to transmit a mes
sage i ntended /()r a receiver, then the song o f the Ache men i s
located outside l anguage . For who l i stens to the h u n ter's song
besides the hunter himself, and for whom is the message intended
if not the very one who transmits i t ? Being himself the obj ect and
the subj ect of his song, the hunter dedicates its lyric reci tative to
h i mself alo n e . As prisoners oran exchange that makes them mere
components of a system, the Guayaki l ong to free themselves from
the requirements of that exchange, but they are powerless to rej ect
i t in the very domain in which they complete i t and suffer its effects .
Given thi s i n capacity, how were they to eliminate the terms w i th
out sever i ng the relati ons? Language was the o n l y resource that
offered itself to them. The Guayaki h unters kHlt1d in thei r song
the innocent and profound ru se that enables them to rej ect i n the
domain o f l anguage the exchange they are unab l e t o abol i sh in the
domai n o f goods and women.
It was certainly not an idle choice vvhen the men decided on
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the nocturnal solo o f their song as the hymn of the i r freedom. I t

alone i s capah l e of articulating an e x perience w i thout which they
wou l d perhaps b e unable to bear the constant tension \\-h i ch the
necessi t i e s of social l i fe impose o n the i r e\'eryday e x i s tence. Thus
the song o f the hunter, that endo-Ianguage , is f()r him the moment
o f h i s t r u e repose i n that it prov i d e s a refuge i n which to experi
ence the fiTedom o f h i s solitude. T h a t i s why, once night has bll e n ,
each man takes possession o f the rea l m that i s his O\\ n preSCfv e ,
wh ere , at peace \vi t h h i m se l f, a t last he can d ream th rough h i s
wonls the impossi b l e " private tal k w i t h onesel f." But the Ache'
hunters, naked and savage poets who endow the i r l anguage \\- i t h a
new sancti ty, arc unaware that in m as teri ng tilt" sanlt" m agic of t h E'
word ( are n o t t h e i r s i m u l taneous songs t h e same chanson de Hcslc,
their own verse-ch ron i c l e ? ) , the hope each has of asserting his d i l
ference van i shes. \Vhat does i t matter i n any case ? When they
s i ng it i s , in their word s , ur}'

n1'(1 ,

"to b e conte n t ." :\nd thus, o n e

a fter another, hour upon hour, these d e fi ant word s a r c decl a i m e d

a hund red t i nH:''': '" a m a great hunter; I k i l l much \\'ith my arrO\\' S ;
I am a strong nature ." Hut there i s n o o n e to take u p t h e c h a l
l e nges t h a t are h u rl e d , and i f the h u n t e r's s o n g g i ve s h i m t h e ,1ITO
gance ofa \ i ctory, t h i s i s because i t i s meant as t h e f() rgett i ng o l a l l
c o m bat . I et i t b e c l ea r that no b i o l ogy o f culture is being sug
gested h e re ; social l i k is not l i ll- i tsd f and e x c h<mge is not a strug
g l e . The observation o f one pri m i tive soc iety shows us the contrary ;
w h i l e e x c h ange as t h e essence o f t h e social can take the d ra ma tic
f() rm ofa c o m peti ti on b e t w e e n t h o s e who e x c hange , t h i s com pe
ti tion i s d o o ll1 ed to re m a i n s t a t i c because the permanence o f a
"soc ial con tract" req u i res t hat t h e re be nei ther v i ctor nor van
q u i shed and that the gai ns and l osses balance out f()r both s i d e s . I n
short, one ll1 ight say that soc ial l i ll' i s a "com bat" that prec l u d e s
any v i c to ry. COlwers e l y, i f i t b e c o m e s poss i b l e to speak o l a " v i c
tory, " t h is is because i t concerns s o mcone unfi t , that i s , outs i d e

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social l i fe . I n the end, what the songs of the G uayaki I n d i ans bring
back to u s is that it i s impossible to w i n on all fronts, that o n e
cannot b u t respect t h e rules of t h e social game , and t h a t t h e fasci
nation o f non-partic ipation entices one to a great i l lusion.
By their nature and their function, these songs illustrate i n exem
plary form the general relationship o f man to l anguage . These dis
tant voi c e s call on u s to ponder that relationshi p ; they invite us t o
follow a path that i s now a l l but obliterated , and the thought of
savages , the product of a sti ll primal language , only motions i n
the d i rection of thought . We have seen , as a matter o f fact, that
beyon d the contentment it obtains for the m , their s i nging fur
nishes the hunters - and without the i r knowing i t - the means to
escape fro m social l i fe by refusing the e x c hange that underl i es i t .
The same m ovement by which t h e s i nger d etaches h i m sel f fro m
the social man he i s induces h i m to know and declare himself as a
concrete individuality utterly closed u p o n i tsel f. T h e s a m e m a n
exists, then , as a pure relation i n the sphere o f the e x change o f
goods and wom en , a nd as a monad , so to sp e a k , i n the s phere o f
l anguage . I t is through the song that he comes to consciousness of
himself as an I and thereby gains the l egi t i m ate us age o f that per
sonal p ronoun. The man exists for h i m s e l f i n and through his par
ticular song: I sing, therefore I am . Now it is q u i t e e v i d e n t t h a t i f
l anguage , i n t h e g u i s e o f t h e song, i s designated to the man as the
true locus of his being, what i s at i ssue i s n o l o nger language as the
archetype of exchange, since that i s precisely t h e thing he i s trying
to be free o f. In other word s , the very model of the world of com
munication is also the means of escap i ng that world . A word spo
ken c a n b e both a message e xchanged and the nega t i o n o f a l l
messages . I t can be pronounced as a s i g n a n d as the opposite o f a
sign. Henc e , the song of the Guayaki refers us to the essential and
d ouble nature of language , which u n fo l d s sometim e s i n i ts open
function o f communication, other t i m e s in its closed function of
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constructing an Ego . This capacity o f language to perform inverse

functions rests on the possibility of its divi d i ng i n two: i t is both
sign and value.
Far from having the innocence of a hobby or mere d iversion,
the song o f the Guayaki hunters announces the firm intent that i s
i t s motive f()rce: to escape t h e subj ection o f m a n to t h e general
network of signs ( in this context, words are only the privileged
metaphor for that network ) by aggression against language in the
form o f a transgression o f its functi o n . What becomes of a spoken
word when it i s no longer used as a medium of communication,
when i t i s diverted fro m its "natural" end , which i s the relation
sh i p to the Other? Separated fro m their nature as signs, words are
no longer i ntended for any l istener; the words o f the song are an
end in themselves; for the one who utters them, they change into
val u e s . Mo reover, by chang i ng from a system o f mobi le signs
between transmitters and receivers into a mere value position for
an Ego , language does not thereby cease being the place where
mean i ng i s lodged: the meta-social i s not the infra-individual , the
hun ter's soli tary song is not the d iscourse of a madman, and h i s
words are n o t so many c ri e s . Mean i ng persists, detached from any
message , and it is its absolute permanence that supplies the ground
on which speech can stand as value and nothing else. Language
can be language no longer w i thout di ssolving by that fact into sense
l e ssness , and anyo ne can u n d e rstand the song of the Guayak i
al though nothing i s stated there i n . Or rather, what i t bids us to
understand is that speaki ng need not al ways engage another; that
language can be w ielded for i tse l f, and that it is not confined to
the fu nction it perf(Jrm s : the G u ayaki song is language refl ected
back on itse l f, abo l i sh i ng the social wo rld of signs in order to
provoke the emergence of meaning as an absolute value. There i s
n o parad o x , then, i n t h e fact that what i s most unconscious and
collective in man - his language - can also be his most transparent

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consc io u s ness ,md h i s most l i berated d i m e n s i o n . To the disjunction

of speech and siUIlS in the son! corresponds the disjunction of man and the
lO[iol n orld j(Jr the sinw:r, and the conversion of meaning into value
i s the conversion o r an individual i n to the subject of h i s sol i tude.
Man i s a political animal ; society does not amount to the sum
of its i nd i v i dual members; and the d i fference b e tween the ad d i
t i o n it is not an d th e system that d e fi ne s i t consists i n the e xchange
and rec i p rocity through which m e n are l i n k e d to one another.
There \H>lI l d be no point i n recall i ng these t ru i s m s if I did not
mean to i n d i cate that they suggest their contrary. To w i t , i f man is
a "sick a n i mal " this i s because he is not s o l e l y a " p o l i tical ani
mal , " and h'om his anxiety there awakens the great desire that
obsesses h i m : the desire to escape a necessi ty that is d i m l y per
ceived as a destiny and cast aside the restrai nts o f e x change , the
d e s i re to refuse his social being so as t o r i d h i m s e l f o f h i s condition .
For i t is in d eed owing to man's awareness that he i s t raversed and
borne along by the rea l i ty of the social that there originates the
d e s i re to be something more than that real i ty and the l onging to
get away from it. By l i stening attentively to the s i n g i ng of a kw
savages we come to real ize that what i s i nvolved i n actual fac t i s a
general s o ng that gives voice to the u niversal d ream o r no l o nger
being what one i s .
P laced at t h e very heart of t h e human cond i t i o n , t h e desire t o
have done with that condition i s reali zed on Iv a s a d ream that can
be conveyed i n mani fol d ways, someti mes i n myth, sometimes, as
w i th the G u ayaki , i n song. Perhaps the song o f the Ache hunters i s
nothing e l se but their indiyidual myth. At any rate, the men's secret
desire proves its own i m possi b i l ity in that they can d o n o more
than d ream it, and language is the o n l y space i n \vh i c h i t comes
t ru e . Now this close relationship between d ream i ng and speec h ,
w h i l e i t marks t h e failure of t h e m e n to rep u d i ate what they are ,
signi fies at the same time the triu m ph of l anguage . I n fact , lan-

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guage alone can acc o m p l i s h the twofo l d m i s s i on of hri ngi ng the

m e n together and b re ak i ng the t i e s that u n i te them . A s the sale
p o s s i b i li ty for them to transcend their condition, i t presents itse l f
as t h e i r beyond, a n d words u ttered for t h e value they possess are t h e
p rov i n c e o f the god s .
D e s p i t e a p pearan c e s , i t i s s t i l l the song o f the G uayaki to whi c h
vli e a r e l i s t e n i ng . I f there i s any d o u b t , m ight this n o t be prec i s e l y
because i t s language i s n o l o nger c o m p rehensible to u s ? There i s
certai n l y n o l o nger any q u es t i o n here o f translat i o n . A l l things
c o n s i d ered , the song o f the A c h e h u nters cal l s our atte n t i o n to a
certain k i n s h i p between m a n a n d h i s language : to be more e x ac t ,
a k i n s h i p o f a k i n d that s e e m s t o s u rv i v e o n l y in pri m i ti ve man .
T h i s i m pl i e s that , p u t t i ng a s i d e a l l n o t i o n s of e x o t i c i s m , the naive
d i scourse o f savages o b l iges u s to re fl e c t on the t h i ng that poets
and thi nkers alone remember: that language is not simply an i nstru
m e n t , that man can b e o n a level with it, and that the modern
\Vest loses the sense o f i ts value through the e xc e s s i ve wear i t
s u bj ec t s i t t o . T h e l a nguage o f c i v i l ized man has become com
pletely

ex ternal to

h i m , fo r i t i s n o l o nger anyth i ng fo r h i m but a

p u re means of c o m m u n i c a t i o n a n d i n fo rmat i o n . T h e q u a l i ty o f
m e a n i ng a n d tfll' q u a n ti ty o f signs vary i n i nverse rat i o . Pri m i t i v e
c u l ture s , o n the c o n t rary, m o re c o n c e rn ed to cel ebrate language
t h a n to put it to u s c , h a v e b e e n a b l e to m a i n t a i n t h a t

in ternal re la

t i o n s h i p w i th it that i s a l re a d y i n i t s e l f a n al liance with the sacre d .

for pri m i t ive man , there i s no p o e t i c language , fo r h i s language i s
a l read y i n itsel f a n a t u ral p o e m where d we l l s the v a l u e o f word s .
A n d w h i l e I have spoken o f t h e s o ng of t h e G uaya k i as an aggre s
sion aga i n s t lang u age , it s h o u l d h e n c di)rth be u n d e rstood as the
s h e l t e r that p r o t e c t s h i m . But i s it sti l l possible to hear, fro m
wretc h e d wa n d ering s a v ages , t h e a l l t o o st ro ng l e s s o n c o n c e rn i n g
t h e pro p e r usage o f l a ng u age ?
Such is the l i k o f t h e G u ayaki I ndi ,ll1 s . By day they walk together
1 27

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

S TA T E

through the forest, women and men, the bow i n fron t , the basket
behin d . The coming of night separates them , each one surrender
ing to h i s d ream . The women sleep and the hun ters sometimes
sing , alone. Pagans and barbarian s , only death saves them from
the res t .

12 8

W ha t M a k e s

I nd i an s

Lau gh

Resol ved to take the narratives of "savages" seri{)us v, stn l ctl l rC]1 anal y
s i s has shown fo r s o m e years that they are in fac t q u i t e seri o u s ;
t h a t they present a system of i n q u i ri e s w h i c h raises mythical thi nk
i ng to the l evel of thought as s u c h . They have acq u i red a new pres
tige s i n c e the

My thofogi q ues

of Levi-Strauss taught us that myths

are not empty tal k . And i t is merely giving them their due to endow
them w i th such grav i t y. Yet , perhaps the renewed interest arou sed
by myths w i l l l ead us th i s t i m e to take them too "seriously, " as it
were , and to assess poorly t h e i r range o f thought. In short, if their
l e s s stringent aspects are l e ft o b s c u re , a kind of my thorn ani a m ay
g a i n c u rrency which ignores a tra i t a great n u m b e r of myths have
i n c o m m o n , one not i n c o m pa t i b l e with th e i r grav i t y : their humor.
Serious both f(x those who relate them ( the I ndians, for instance )
and those who record or read th e m , myths can nevertheless e x hibit
a comic intent. They s o m e t i m e s pe rf()fm the e x pre s s fu n c t i o n of
a m u s i ng their l i s teners , trigge ring their m i rth . I f o ne cares abou t
preserving the i n tegral t r u t h o f myt h s , the real sign i fi cance of the
laughter they provoke m u st not be underest i mated . The fact m u st
be taken into acc o u n t that a myth can

sim uftClncous v speak

of seri

o u s things and set those w h o hear i t la ugh ing. D e s p i t e its harsh

ness, the daily J i ll o f H p ri m i t ives" i s not al ways governed by t o i l
1 29

SOCIE T Y

A G AI N S T

T HE STATE

and worry. They too indulge in real moments of relaxation , and their
acute sense of the absurd frequently has them making fun of their
own fears. Now it i s not unusual for these cultures to e ntrust their
my ths with the job o f e ntertain i ng the peopl e by de-dramatizing,
as it were , their exi stence.
The two my ths we are about to read b e l o ng in that category .
They were collected l a s t y ear among t h e Chulupi I ndians who live
i n the southern part of the Paraguayan Chac o . These narratives,
going from the mock-heroic to the ribal d , y et not altogether want
ing i n ly ricism, are well known by all members o f the tribe, y oung
and old ; b u t when they really want to laug h , they ask some old
man versed in the tradi tional lore to tell these stories one more
time. The e ffect never fails: the smiles at the b eg i n n i ng become
chortles that are barely stifled , then sham e l e s s peal s of laughter
burst out, and finally it is all howls ofj oy . W h i l e these my ths were
being recorded on tap e , the uproar o f the d ozens of I nd ians who
were l i stening sometimes blotted out the voice o f the narrator,
who was himself constantly o n the verge o f l o sing h i s composure.
We are n o t I ndians, but perhaps by l istening t o their my ths we
will fin d some reason to rejoice w i th them .

First Myth
T H E MAN W H O C O U L D N ' T

B E TO L D A N YT H I N G 1

This o l d m an's fam i ly possessed just a smal l g uantity of boiled

pumpkin s , when one day he asked t o go fi n d a fevv friends and
i nvite t h e m to eat these gou r d s . But i n s tead , h e called o u t to
the people of all the houses i n the vil l age . He shouted as loudly as
he cou l d :
" Every one c o m e a n d eat ! Every body m u s t c o m e eat ! "
1 . T h i s i s t h e t i t l e g i \"en t o m e by t h e I n d ian').

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W H AT

M A K E S I DIA N S L A U G H

" We ' r e co ming ! E v e r yo n e is going t o co m e ! " t h e p e o p l e

answere d . And yet there w a s scarcel y one dish of pumpkins. So
the first two or three to arrive ate u p everything , and for those
who kept showing u p there was p ractically nothing left:. Every
one was assembled in the old man's house and there was no longer
anything at all to eat. "How can this be possible?" he said with
amazemen t . " W hy the d evil did they ask me to invite the people
to come eat? As for me , I did what I was told . I thought there was
a heap of pumpkin s . I t's not my fau l t ! I t's always the others who
make me tell lie s ! A n d afterwards they are angry with me because
I was made to say what wasn't so ! " Then his wife explained to
him: " You have to speak soft l y !

Yo u

need to say very softly, in

low voice : 'Come eat some pumpkin ! ' ' ' " Bu t why did you tel l me
to invite the people who are here? I shou ted so they cou ld hear
m e ! " The old woman gru m b l ed : "What an old ignoramus that
one is to invite all these people."
Some time later, he went around u rging his kin to come harvest
his watermelon patch . But once again everyone turned up even
though there were only three stal k s of watermel ons. " We're going
to gather my watermelon cro p ! There are a lot of them ! " he had
proclaimed in a very loud voice . And all the people were there with
their sacks , standing over the three stalks of watermelons. "I real ly
thought there were a l o t of them , " the old man said apol ogetical l y.
" But there are pumpkins and ando 'i2 : take th e m ! " The people fi lled
their sacks with pum pkins and anda 'i instead o f watermelons.
After the harvest, the old man returned home . He met his grand
d aughter there : she was bringing him her sick baby to be treated
by the old man , for h e was a tooic 'eh , a shaman .
" G randfather! Do something then t() r your great-grand son who
has the kvcr. Spit ! "
2 . CULl1riJit" mOSdWlti .

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

STAT E

" Ye s , I w i l l take care o f h i m right away ! "

And h e commenced t o s p i t o n t h e l i tt l e b o y w i th o u t stopping,
completely covering him with saliva. The child's mother exclaimed :
"Not l i k e that ! You must blow! Blow too ! C o m e n ow, take bet
ter care of him, o l d man ! "
"Alrigh t , alright ! B u t why d idn't you s ay t h a t s o o n e r ? You asked
me to spit on my great-grandson , b u t not to bl ow. So I d i d ; I spat ! "
Obeyi ng h i s granddaughter, the o l d m a n t h e n s e t t o blowing o n
t h e c h i l d , b l ow i ng and blowing, w i thout a pau s e . After a moment,
the woman stopped him and rem i n d e d h i m that i t was also neces
sary to search for the spirit o f the s i c k one. The g ra n d father got up
at once and began l ooki ng, l i ft i ng u p the o bj ec t s in all the nooks
and cran n i e s o f the h o u s e .
" N o , n o , grandfather! S i t down ! B l o w ! A n d you h ave to s i ng ! "
" B u t w h y d o you wait t i l l now to t e l l m e t h a t ? You asked me to
look for m y great-grandson so I got u p in order to l o o k for h i m ! "
H e s a t back down and sent fo r the o t h e r sorcerers s o they could
assi s t him in h i s cure , h e l p him to fin d aga i n t h e s p i r i t o f h i s great
gran d s o n . They all gathered together in h i s h o u s e , and the o l d
m a n s p o k e to them t h u s :
"Our great-grandson i s i l l . H e n c e we s h a l l try to d i sc over t h e
c a u s e o f h i s i l ln e s s ."
The o l d man had a she-ass as the d o m e s t i c a n i m a l o f h i s s p i ri t .
The s p i ri t s of t h e shamans undertook t h e j ou rn e y. T h e old man
c l i mb e d u p on his s h e-ass and started his c h a n t :

kuvo 'uitache! kuvo'uitache!

. . .

" K u vo 'uitache!

She-ass! she-ass ! she ass! . . . " They walked

in t h i s way a fai r l y l o ng w h i l e .
At a certain moment, the she-ass sank a h o o f i n to the soft ground:
there were pumpkin seeds there . The s h e-ass hal ted . The o l d man
pointed o u t the fac t to h i s compan i o n s : "The she-ass h a s j us t come
to a h al t . T here must b e somethi ng t h e re ! " T h ey l ooked carefu l l y
a n d d i sc overed a l arge amount o f b o i l ed p u m p k i n s : they s tarted

W H AT

M A K E S

I N D I A N S

L A U G H

eating them . When they were all done, the o l d man announced :
"We l l the n ! Now we can continue on our way."
They started off again, still keeping to the rhythm o f the same
she-as s ! she-ass!
chan t : " K uvo 'uitache! kll l'o 'lIitachC! kuvo 'uitachli!
she-ass ! . . . " Suddenly the ani mal 's ear cocked : "Aha! " said the old
man. At that moment he remembered that near that very spot 'was
a beehive that h e h a d bl ocked up so that the bees would come
back and make their honey there . The shamans c leared a path to
allow the she-ass to reach that place. When they got near to the
hive , they posi tioned the she-ass with i ts rump again s t the tree
and , with her tai l , she began extracting the honey. The o l d man
sai d , "Suck the honey! Suck all the honey that's in the tail hairs !
We're going to d raw out some more." The beast repeated the opera
tion and collected a lot more honey. "Go ahead , go ahead ! " the
old man sai d . " Eat all the honey, men w i th the same noses! Do
you want more , or have you had your fil l ?" The other shamans
were no longer h ungry. "Very wel l then, l et's move o n ! "
They set o u t o n c e more , s t i l l chanting: "She-ass! she-as s ! she
ass! . . . " They went o n that vvay for a while . All at once, the old
man cried out: "Aha ! There's something up ahead ! vVhat can that
be? That has to b e a ts 'ich 'e, an evil spiri t ! " They came close to it
and the old man declared: "Oh , that i s a very swift being! We won't
be abl e to catch up with i t ." And yet it was only a torto i s e . " I 'll
stay i n the middle and grab i t , " he sai d , " for I am older and more
e x peri enced than you ." He arranged them i n a c i rcle and, at his
signal , they all kll upon the tortoise: " She-ass! she-ass ! she-as s ! . . . "
But the ani mal d idn't make the slightest movement, for it was a
tortoise. They got the better of i t . The old man exclai m e d , " How
pretty it i s ! What a beautiful pattern ! I t will b e m y domestic ani
mal . He picked it up and they got under way again , still chanting:
"She-as s ! . . . "
But before long, "Aha! " and they stoppe d . "The she-ass w i l l go
. . .

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

S TAT E

no further. Something i s u p ahead." They looked and spied a skunk.

"He will be our d og ! " the old man affirmed . "He is very pretty, a
wild d og ! " They encircled i t and the old man himse l f took up a
position at the center, declaring, "I am older and more skil l fu l
than you ." And , to the chant "She-ass! she-ass ! she ass! . . . " they
went on the o fk n sive. Hut the skunk di sappeared into its burrow :
"He went in there ! I ' l l try to get him out." The old sorcerer stuck
his hand through the opening , bent way down , and the skunk pissed
i n his fac e . 3 "Ai e e ! " he screamed . The stench was so great he nearl y
fainted. The other shamans scattered i n confusion, c rying: "That
stink s ! That stinks like hel l ! "
They took u p their j ou rn ey, a l l o f them chanting i n choru s , and
soon they fel t like having a smoke . The ear of the she-ass dipped
and the a n imal halted once more . "So now we wil l smoke a l i t
t l e , " the old man decided . l ie was carryi ng all his smoking gear i n
a l i ttle sack ; h e started searching for his p i p e a n d tobacco. "Ah , I
didn't count o n f(Jrgetting my pipe ! " He searched eve ry \\ here, but
without fi nding anything . " Don't budge ! " he said t o the others.
" I ' l l go as fast as I can to get my pipe and tobacco." And he l e ft ,
urging himsel f along w i th his chanting: "She-ass! she-ass! she-ass! . . . "
At the end of the c h a n t , he was al read y back with t h e m .
" H e re I am ! "
"So you 're bac k , are you ? We' l l smoke a l i ttle then ."
They commenced to s m o k e .
W he n they were d one s m o k i ng , they started o u t on t h e i r \\ .1\
aga i n ; they were s t i l l chan ting. Sudden l y the animal 's ear p o i n t e d
and the o l d m a n a l e rted h i s compan i o n s : "A ha! That sounds l i ke
dancing over yonder!" As a mat ter o f fact, the beat ofa d rum c o u l d
be heard . The s h a m a n s arrived a t t h e place o f merry mak i ng and
began to d a n c e . Each o n e o f t h e m j o i ned u p w i th a pa i r o f danc3.

I n a c t ual fact. t h e s k u n k pro j e c ts a f(nl i ,slll elling liq u id c o n tained i n ,m a nal glan d .

1 34

W H AT

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I N D I A N S

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ers . T h e y danced fo r a w h i l e , then talked the wom e n into going

for a l it t l e s trol l w i th them . They went out away fro m t h e danci ng
p l ac e , a n d a l l t h e shaman s made l ove w i t h t h e w om e n . T h e i r o l d
c h i e f c o p u lated t o o . But h e h a d hard l y fi n i s h e d w h e n h e fai nted ,
for h e w a s very o l d .
" Ho u tl h o u fl h o u f1 " H i s gaspi ng grew h e av i er a n d h e avi e r and
nnaH)" c o m pletely out of breath , he fel l into a s woon . A fter a m i n
ute o r two , he regain e d h i s senses: " Houfl h o u fl h o u fl " h e w e n t ,
h eavi ng g r e a t s i g h s and becoming m u c h calmer. H e gradually recu
p e rat e d , gathered h i s companions abou t h i m , a n d asked : " We l l
t h e n ? You too a r e satis fi ed ?"
"Oh , yes! Now we are fre e ! We can get going, and a lot l ighter
than b e fo re ! "
A n d , i n toning t h e i r chant, they g o t u n d e r w a y agai n . A ft e r a
whi l e . t h e trail b e c a m e very narrow : " We ' l l c l e a r t h i s path so the
she-ass won't s t i c k thorn s i n h e r feet." I t was ful l o f cactuses . S o
t h ey c l eared the path and came to the spot w here the trai l wid
ened aga i n . They continued chanting: "She-as s ! she-as s ! she-as s ! . . . "
A m o t i o n o f t h e a n imal's ear made them s t o p : "There is s o m e
t h i ng u p a h ead ! Let's go see what i t i s ." They advan c e d a n d t h e o l d
shaman s a w t h a t i t w a s h i s h e l p e r s p i r i t s . l ie h a d already i n f()rmed
them o f w h a t h e was looking for. He d rew ncar them and they
annou n c e d to h i m : " I t is

Faiho 'ai, the s p i r i t o f charc o a l , w h o h o l d s

the s o u l o f your great-gran d s o n . He has a l s o e n l i s t e d the a i d o f

Op 'etsukfai,

t h e s p i r i t o f the cactus ."

"Yes, yes ! Exactl y ! That's i t ! I know them very wel l , those spirits."
There w e re others, b u t those he d i d n o t k now. A d v ised o f a l l
t h i s b y h i s h e l p e r s p i ri ts, h e n o w k n e w w h e r e t o fi n d h i s great
gran d so n : in a storehouse . 4
Perc h e d o n h i s she-ass, h e w e n t ahead c h a n t i ng a n d arrived at

4 . A h u t Tn a d e of branc h e s , w h e re the I nd i a n s store t h e i r prov i s i o n s .

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N S T

T H E

STAT E

the place m e n t i o n e d . H u t there he remained prisoner of the spiny

b ranches o f the structure . H e took fright and call ed to the others
for help. Rut s e e i ng that they remained unconc erned , he gave o u t
a how l . O n l y t h e n d i d h i s shaman fri e n d s come to h i s a i d , and th u s
he \\ a s a b l e to retri eve t h e s p i r i t of the sick boy. H e b rought i t
back home and re- i n serted it i n the body o f the child . Thereupo n ,
h i s granddaughter got u p , took h e r c u red c h i l d , and went away.
This old shaman had other granddaughters . They liked very much
to go gath e r the fru i t o f the

algarraba.

The n e x t day at d a w n they

came l o o k i ng fo r h i m .
"Our gra n d father i s a l ready u p ? "

"or c o u rs e ; I 've been awake for a long ti m e ! "

" S o ! L et's g o then ! "
A n d h e l e ft t o h u n t for t h e b l ack

algarraba with one of h i s grand

d aughters w h o was s ti l l s i ngl e . H e led her to a place that had a lot

of trees and the you ng woman started gatheri ng the fru i t . A s fo r
h i m , he sat down to s m o k e . Hut al ready t h e desire came to hi m ,
l i t tle by l i tt l e , t o d o s o m e t h i ng w i t h h i s granddaugh ter, for t h e
s e s s i o n the d ay b e fo re , w i t h the wo men encountered d u r i ng the
j o u rney, had aroused his passi o n s . S o he b egan to c o n s i d e r ways t o
sed uce h i s g randdaughter.
l I e c o l l ec t e d a thorn fro m the

alBarraha and stuck

it in h i s [(lo t .

Then h e pretended to b e trying t o pull i t o u t . l ie groan ed in a

p i t i fu l m a n n e r.
"Unh! Unh! Unh!"
"Oh ! My poor grand father! What on earth has happened t o him ?"
"A n acc i d e n t ! I have a thorn i n my f()o t . A n d it fee l s l i ke i t 's
go ing al l the way to m y heart l "
T h e young wo man , u p s e t , went over to h i m and the grandfathe r
said t o h e r - "Take off your b e l t , f(lr bandagi ng my wound ! Because
I can't stand i t any l o nge r ! " She did as he said , and the gran d father
ad v i s ed her to sit d ow n : "Now then , rai se your loincloth a l i ttle so
1 36

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] can place my foo t o n your thighs . Unh ! Unh ! Aiee !" Awful moans!
He was real l y hurting: "Let me put my foo t o n you r thigh s ! Unh !
Unh! How i t hurts! ] can't bear i t any more ! Spread your thighs a
little bit. Aiee! Aiee!" And the sympathetic young woman obeyed .
The old man was all excited , for she was now completely nake d :
" H m m ! W h a t beauti ful l egs she has , m y l i tt l e granddaughter!
Couldn't you move my foot a little higher, granddaughter?"
That's when he threw himself on her, exclaiming - "Ah a ! Now
we are going to forget about your future husband ! "
"Oh! G randfatherl" said the young woman , who didn't want to.
" ] am not you r grandfather! "
"Grandfather, I ' l l tell everything ! "
"We l l t h e n , so w i l l I ! I ' l l t e l l everything too ! "
H e threw h e r down and thrust his penis into h e r. O n c e h e
w a s on top o f h e r, h e exclai med : " H o ! You s e e ! Now you are
benefitting from my l eftovers . The very last ones indeed ! " Then
they returned to the village . She was so ashamed that she didn't
tell anything.
The old man had yet another granddaughter, and she was also
unm arrie d . And h e would have liked very much to take advantage
of her as wel l . So he i nvi ted her to go with h i m to gather the fru i t
of t h e a/garraba, and, once there, he repeated the same charade
with the thorn . B u t this time, he was more i n a h u rry; he showed
his granddaughter the thorn and , without further ad o , threw her
on the ground and s tretched out on top of her. H e s tarted t o pene
trate her, but the young woman gave a violent j erk and the o l d
man's p e n i s went a n d planted itself i n a tuft o f grass , j am m i ng one
blade o f the grass inside, wounding him slightly: "Aiee! My grand
daughter has stung my nose ! " 5 Once again h e threw himself on

5 . Accord i n g to t h e C h u l u p i social c o d e , i t woul d be coarse to c a l l t h e p e n i s by i t s n a m e .

l ie n e e i t i s n e cessary t o say: t h e nose.

1 37

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S TA T E

top of h er and they wrest l e d o n t h e ground . At the right momen t ,

t h e grand father g o t i t u p , b u t h e missed h i s target a second time ,
and , in h i s e x e rt i o n , went and u prooted the whole tuft of grass
wit h his peni s . l ie started b l e e ding, coveri ng the gra n d daughter's
stomach with n l o o d .
She made a big e ffort and managed to get out fro m under her
grand father. She caught h i m n y the hair, d ragged h i m to the cac
tus, and s et abou t run n i ng his face agai nst the thorns. H e p l ead e d ,
"Take p i t y on your grandfather!"
" I don't want to hear a word abou t my grandfather!"
" You are going to l o s e your grandfather! "
"That's a l l the same to m e ! "
And s h e continued thru s t i ng h i s face into the cac t u s . Next she
took him agai n by t h e hai r a n d d ragged h i m in to the m i d d l e o r a

caraguata b u s h . The o l d man w i thstood this fl)r a few moments ,

then attempted to get back u p ; nut she prevented him fro m doing
s o . The carogua/o thorns scratched h i s stomac h , h is tes t i c l e s , and
h i s pen i s : " 1\1 y testi c l e s ! M y testi c l e s are being torn to s h red s ! "
t h e grand fathe r protested . K rrt Krrt went the thorns, tearing open
h i s s k i n . A t l as t, the granddaughter l e ft h i m spraw l ed o u t on the

cara8uato heap . The old man's head w a s already completel y swelled

u p fro m all the needles stuck i n i t . The young woman c o l l ected
he r sac k , returned h om e , and revealed to h e r grand mother what
her grand father had tried to do. As for the latter, who could bare ly
see an y longer b e c a u se o f the need l e s t h a t covered h is eye s, h e
groped h i s way back a n d d ragged h i m s e l f i n t o h i s h o u s e .
There , h i s w i fe removed h e r l oinc l oth a n d flailed away at h i s
face with i t . "Come here f() r a mi nute and tOllch what I have there ! "
s h e cried . And , tak ing h i s hand , s h e m a d e h i m touch h e r h/oS[J, h e r
vagi na. S h e w a s i n a rag e .
" Yes! You l i k e t h e t h i ng s t h a t belong t o others; b u t you want
nothing to d o w i t h what i s you rs ! "

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" I don't want any o f your hlasu! I t's too o l d ! Nobody wants to
use old things ! "

Second Myth
T il E A D V E I': T U R F S

OF THE

JAGUAR

One morning t h e j aguar went out walking and came upon a cha
meleon . As everyon e knows, the chameleon can go through fhe
without being b u rn e d . The j aguar exclaimed , " H ow I wou l d l ike
to play with the fire too!"
" You can play if you want , but you won't be able to bear the
heat and you will burn yoursel f."
"Huh ! Hmph. Why couldn't I bear i t ? I ' m fas t too, you know ! "
" Well then ! Let's go oyer there; the embers are not s o hot."
They went there, but actually the embers burned brighter there
than anywhere else. The chamel eon explained to the j aguar how
he had to go abo u t it and passed through the fi re once to demon
strate: nothing happened to h i m . "Good ! Get out of the way !
I'm going to g o t o o . I f you can do i t , so can I ! " The j aguar j umped
into the fire and immediately burned himself: hsss! l ie managed
to get through , b u t he was a l ready half charred , and he d i e d ,
reduced to ashes.
I n the midst of all this, the ts'a-ts 'j bird arrived and started cry i ng :
"Oh ! My p o o r grandson! I 'l l n ever b e able to g e t u s e d t o singing in
the footsteps of a buck ! " He came down from h i s tree; then, w i th
his wing , he began gathering the j aguar's ashes into a p i l e . Next he
poured water on the ashes and hopped over the p i l e : the j aguar
got back up. "Whew, such heat ! " he exclaimed . " W h y the devil
did I go to sleep o u t i n t h e bright s u n ? " He set out wal k i ng again .
Before l ong, h e heard someone singing : it was the buck, who
was standing in the sweet potato patc h . The sweet potatoes were
really cactuses. "A t'ona 'i! A t 'ona 'i! I am sleepy for n o reason ! " And
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as he sang , h e danced over the cactuses : since bucks h ave very

small fee t , h e c o u l d eas i l y avoi d the thorns. The j aguar watched
his goings o n .
"Ah ! H o w I wou l d l i k e to dance there too ! "
" I don't think y o u w i l l b e a b l e to walk over t h e cactuses with
out getting spines stuck i n you r paw s ."
"And why n o t ? I f you can go through them, then I can go there
just as wel l ! "
"O K ! I n that case, l et's g o over there : there are fewer spines."
But there were actuall y a l o t more. The buck went first to show
the j aguar h ow it was d o n e : he danced over the cactuses, then
came back , without any s p i n e s . " Hee! Hee! Hee !" went the j ag
uar. " H ow much fun all that i s ! " It was his turn . He entered the
cactus patch and a t once the spines drove into h i s paw s . Two l eaps
carri ed h im t o the middle o f the cactus patc h . He suffered great
pain and could no l o nger keep h i msel f stand ing: he l ay d own fu l l
length, h i s body r i d d l e d w i t h spines.
The

ts 'a - ts 'j

appeared aga i n , p u l l ed the j aguar ou t o f there, and

removed all the spines one by one. Then, using h i s wing, he pushed
him a l i ttle fu rther. "Such heat l " exclai med the j aguar. " W hy the
d evi l did I fal l asleep i n the h ot sun?"
l i e set out aga i n . A few m i n u tes later, he met up w i th a l i zard :
l i zard s can c l i m b up trees a l l th e way to the ends of the b ranc h e s
and co m e back down v e r y q u i c k l y w i t h o u t fal l ing. T h e j ag u a r
watc hed h i m d o i t a n d i m med i ately fe lt l i ke havi ng fu n too . So
the l i zard led h i m to another tree and showed him fi rst how i t had
to be done: h e went up to the top and came back down fu l l speed .
The j aguar dashed o fr in h i s turn , but on reac h i ng the top of the
tree, he te ll and a branch rammed u p h i s anu s , coming out through
h i s m o u t h . "Oh ! " said the j agu ar, " that fee l s j u st l i k e when I h ave
d i arrhea." Again

ts 'a - ts 'j

came to get h i m out of the j a m , nursed h i s

anu s , and t h e j aguar was abl e to s tart ofr once more .

' 40

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He then encountered a bird who was playing with two branches

that the wind was causing to cross one anothe r. The b i rd was
entertaining himsel f by going between them j us t a s they crossed .
The jaguar thought that l ooked l ike great fun . "Me too , I want to
play too ! "
"But you won't b e able t o do it! You're too big , not little like me."
"Who says I won't be abl e to?"
So the bird led the j aguar to another tree and passed through
once to show him: the branches nearly touched the bird 's tail when
they came together. " Now i t's your turn ! " The j aguar sprang , but
the branches caught him by the middle of his body, cutting him i n
two . "Ai ee!" cried the j aguar. T h e t w o pieces fel l a n d he died .
Ts 'a- ts 'j reapp e a r e d and saw h i s d ead gran d s o n . He s tarted
weeping : " I 'l l neve r be abl e to get used to singing i n the f()()t
steps of a buck! " He flew down and stitched the two pieces o f the
j aguar back together. Wi th a snail's shel l , he carefully smoothed
out the seam; then h e wal ked on the jaguar, who then got back
up, alive .
He w e n t on h i s w ay agai n . Then h e saw /t 'o t h e royal v u l
ture , who was amusing himself by flying up and down . That too
delighted the j aguar: h e announced to It'o that h e wanted to p l ay
like he was doing. "Oh , my friend ! I low won d erfu l it would be to
play like you ! "
"That would be fine indeed , but you have no w i ng s ."
"That's true; I don't have any, but you can lend m e some."
It 'o agreed . He made two wings which he glued to the j aguar's
body with some wax . \Vhen that was done, he invited h i s com
panion to fly. Together they rose to an incredible height and enjoyed
themselves the whole morning long. But towards midday the sun
was scorching hot and caused the wax to mel t : the two wi ngs
came loose. The j aguar crashed to the ground with all his weight
and died , practical l y smashed to bits. Ts 'a- ts 'j arri ve d , mended

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the j aguar's bones , and set him back on his feet. The j aguar started
o ff again .
I t wasn't l o ng until h e came upon the skunk , who was playing
w i th his son, breaking p i eces o f wood . The j aguar came closer to
see what was going on: h e i m mediately pounced o n the skunk's
son, then tried attacking the father. But the latter p i ssed i n his
eyes and the j aguar was l e ft blinded . 6 He walked and could no
l o nger see a thing. B u t ts 'a-ts 'j appeared once more and gave h i s
eyes a g o o d washing; t h a t i s w h y t h e j aguar's v i s i o n i s so good .
Without the ts 'a-ts 'i, the j aguar would no l o nger exist.
The value o f these two myths i s not limited to the i n tensity o f the
laughter they produce. I t is a matter of thoroughly u n derstand i ng
what i t is about these stories that amuses the I ndians; i t also needs
establishing that comic fc)rce i s not the only property these two
myths have in common . O n the contrary, they const i tute a set o n
t h e basis o f less external reasons, reasons that enable o n e to see thei r
being grouped as somcthing other than an arbi trary j u x taposi tion.
The central charact e r o f the first myth i s an old sham a n . F i rs t
w e s e e h i m take everyth i ng l i teral ly, confuse the l e tter w i th the
spiri t ( so that h e can 't be told an,vt h ina ), and , as a resu l t cover him
self w i th ri d i c u l e in the eyes o f thc I nd ians. N e x t w e accompany
h i m in the adventures h i s doctor's "trade" e x poses h i m to. The
zany c x pe d i t i o n h e undertakes w i th the other sham a n s , i n searc h
o f h i s great-grandson's sou l , is spri n k l ed with e p i sodes that reveal
the doctors' lolal i n c o mpetence and the ir p ro d igious capac i ty to
fo rget the purposc of their m i ssion : they hunt, they eat, they copu
late, they seize UPOIl the l east prete x t for fo rgetting they are doc
tors . The i r old c h i e f, a fter havi ng brought about the c u re j ust i n
t i m e , gives liTc rei n to a frantic debauchery : he takes unbir ad vanh.

St"t"

note

3.

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tage o f the i n n o c e n c e and k indness of h i s own grand daugh ters so

a s to get under th e i r s kirts i n the forest. In short, h e is a grot e s q u e
h e ro , and o n e l aughs a t his e x pe n s e .
The s e c o n d m y t h tells u s o f the j aguar. A l t h o ugh i t i s a m e r e
o u ting, h i s j ourney i s n o t lack i ng i n t h e u n e x p e c t e d . T h i s b i g s i m
p l e to n , w h o d e c i d e d l y m e e t s u p w i th a l o t o f c h aracters o n h i s
way, fa l l s syste m a t i c a l l y i n t o the traps l a i d for h i m b y t h o s e h e
h o l d s s o haugh t i l y i n contempt. T h e j aguar i s b i g , strong, a n d stu
pid; h e n ever understands anythi ng that happens to h i m , and w i th
out the intervent i o n s o f an i nsign i fi cant l i tt l e b i rd , h e woul d h ave
succumbed a l o n g t i m e ago . Every one o f his moves proves h i s
d o l ti shness and d e m o n strates the r i d i c u l o u s n e s s o f t h e c haracter.
To sum u p , these two myths present shamans and j aguars a s the
v i c t i m s of their own stup i d i ty and vani ty, v i c t i m s w h o , accord
i ng l y, do not deserve compassio n , but rather h e arty l aughter.
This is the proper p l ace to rais e the questio n : w h o i s b e i ng made
fu n o f? T h e first c o nj u n c t i o n shows the j aguar and t h e s h a m a n
brought together through the laughter their m i s adventures a ro u s e .
B u t when we e x a m i n e t h e r e a l s t a t u s of these t w o types o f b e i ng s ,
t h e I nd i an s ' real- l i fe relat i o n s h i p t o them, w e fin d t h e m p laced
s i d e by s i d e in a second an alogy: the fact is, far fro m b e i ng c o m i c
figure s , b o t h o f t h e m are dangerous b e i ngs c a p ab l e o f i n sp i r i ng
fear, respec t , and hatred, b u t n ever the d e s i re to l au g h .
I n most South A m erican I n d i an tri b e s , shamans s hare p r e s t ige
and authority with t h e c h i e f , that is, when t h ey themselves d o
n o t fi l l that pol i t i c a l functio n . The shaman i s al ways a very i mpor
tant figure i n I n d i an s o c i e t i e s , and , as such , h e i s at t h e s a m e t i m e
respe c t e d , admi red , and feare d . T h i s i s because in reali ty he is the
o n l y one in the grou p who possesses supernatural powers, the only
o n e with the power t o control t h e d angero u s world o f the s p i r i t s
a n d the dead . H e n c e , t h e s h a m a n i s a man o f k n ow l e dge w h o puts
what h e k n o w s i n t h e serv i c e of the grou p b y c aring for t h e s i c k .

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But the same powers that make him a doctor, that i s , a man capa
b l e of bringing l i fe , enable him to rule over death as wel l . For that
reason, he is d angero u s , disquieting; o n e is constantl y mi strustful
of him. As the master of l i fe and death, he is immediately made
responsible for every e xtraordi nary occurrence, and very often he
i s killed out of fear. This means, consequently, that the shaman
moves within a space that is too di stant from, too external to that
o f the group for the group to dream , in real l i fe , ofletting its laugh
ter hring it nearer to h i m .
W hat o f t h e j aguar? This feline is a n effective hunter, for it is
powerful and cunning. The prey it attacks most readily (wild hogs ,
animals of the deer family ) are also the game generally preferred
by the Indian s . The result is that the jaguar is seen by them - and
here the myths in which the j aguar appears supply a frequent con
fi rmation of these facts based on observation - more as a com pet
i tor to be reckoned with than as a fearsome enemy. However, it
would be a mi stake to conclude that the j aguar i s not dangerous.
I t i s true no doubt that it rarely attacks men ; but I know o f several
cases of I ndians being attacked and devoured by this beast, so
it is al ways risky business when one encounters the j aguar. More
over, its very qualities as a hunter, together with the d o m i n ion
it e xercises over the fores t , induce the I ndians to accord it the
fu ll measure of respect and to refrain from underestimating it:
they respect the j aguar as an equal and in no instance d o they
make light of i t . 7 In real l i fe , the jaguar and the laugh ter of men
remain disj oined .
Let us conc l u d e , then , the fi rst phase of this sum mary inVl'sti
gation by stating that:
7.

I have {'ve Il n o t e d a m o n g t r i bes having very d i fle rc nt c u l t u re s 1S,

t{n

(, x .l lll p k . t h e

G u ayak i . the G u a ra n i , the C h u l u p i , a t e n d e n c y to e x agge rate the ri s k o f m e e t i ng t h i s a n i

m a l : the I nd ia n s play at b e i ng a fraid o f t h e j aguar. because t h e y rca l l y du fcar i t .

1 44

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( 1 ) The two myths considered present the shaman and the j ag

uar as grotesque beings and obj ects o f l aughter;
( 2 ) As for the relations between men on one hand , shamans
and j aguars on the o ther han d , insofar as these relations are actu
ally experiencecl , the position o f the shamans and j aguars i s j ust
the opposite o f that presented by the myths: they are dangerous
beings , hence worthy of respect, who by that very fact remain
beyond l aughter;
( 3 ) The contradiction between the imaginary world o f the myth
and the real world o f everyday l i fe i s resolved when one recog
nizes in the myths a derisive intent: the Chulupi do in my thical life
wha t is forbidden them in real life. One does not l augh at real shamans
or real j aguars, for they are not i n the least bit amusing. For the
I ndians, it is a matter of challenging, of demystifying in the i r own
eyes the fear and the respect that j aguars and shamans inspire in
them. This cal l i ng i nto question can be carried out in two way s : in
actual fact, in which case the shaman deemed too dangerous , or
the j aguar encountered in the forest, is killed; or symbolically,
throuBh lauBhter, in which case the myth invents a variety of sha
mans and j aguars o f a kind that can be ri cliculecl, stripped as they
are of their real attributes and transformed into village idiots.
Let u s consider the first myth, for example . The central part of
it i s devoted to the d escription of a shamanistic cure . The doc
tor's task i s a serious matter, since , in order to heal the one who is
sick, it is necessary to discover and re-integrate into the patient's
body the soul held c aptive far away. This means that during the
expedition undertaken by his spirit, the shaman has to give ful l
attention to his work ancl cannot allow himself to b e d i s tracted by
anything. Now what happens to him i n the myth? Firs t o f all ,
there are m any shamans, while the case t o be treated i s relatively
mil d : the child i s running a fever. A shaman does not send for his
colleagues except in really hopeless cases. Next, we see the doc1 45

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tors , l ike children , tak i ng advantage of the slightest opportunity

to play hoo key : they eat ( fi rst boiled pumpkins, then the honey
e x tracted by the she-ass's tail ) , they hunt (a tortoise, the n a skunk );
they dance w i th women ( instead of danci ng by themselves, as they
should ) , and waste n o time in seducing the m , then going ofF to
copulate with them ( something a shaman at work must absolutel y
abstain from ) . Duri ng this time, the old man real izes he has for
gotten the one thing a true shaman would never forget, that is, his
tobacco. 1 0 top it o ff, h e becomes entangled like a foo l i n a mass
of thorns where his companions would leave him to thrash about
i f he d i d not h o w l for assistance. I n short, the head s haman does
e xactly the contrary of what a genuine d octor wo uld do. It i s not
possi b l e , without overburdening the discussion, to recall all the
tra i ts that hold the mythical shaman up to ri dicule. A brief word
should be said about two o f them , however: his "domestic ani
mal" and his chant. W h enever a shaman of the Chaco undertakes
a cure , he sends ( i n his imaginati o n , o f course ) his pet animal out
to e x plore. Every shaman i s the master o f such an ani mal helper
spirit: more o ften than not, these are little birds o r snakes , and in
any case never animals as ludi crous ( for I nd i an s ) as a she-ass. By
choosing fo r the shaman a d omestic animal so clumsy and stub
born , the myth i n d i eates straight away that it is go ing to speak o r a
poor clown. Moreover, the songs of the Chulupi are always wordless.
T h ey consist o f a s l ightly modu lated chan t, re peated indefinitely
and punctuated , at i n /i-equent in terval s , by a single word : the name
o f the pet an i m a l . Ncm t h e c h a n t o f our shaman i s mad e up e x c l u
sive l y o f his ani mal 's n a m e : i n this manner, he i s constan tly issu
ing, like a victory cry, the confession of his shaman i stic shenanigans.
l lere we see elllerge a cathartic function of the lll yth , so to speak:
in its narrati o n it frees one o f the I nd ians' passions, the secret obses
sion to laugh at what one fears . I t d eval ues on the plane of lan
guage a thing that cannot be taken lightly i n reality, and , manifesti ng

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in laughter an equ i valent of death , i t i nstructs u s that among the

I ndian s , ridicule k i l l s .
Although superfi c i al thus far, our readi ng o f the myths is none
theless sufficient to establ ish that the myth o l og i cal resemblance
of the j aguar and the shaman i s the trans formation o f a real resem
blance. But the equivalence between them that we have brough t to
light remains external , and the characteristics that unite them always
refer to a third term : the I ndians' real attitude towards shamans
and j aguars . Let u s p robe deeper into the text o f the myths to see
if the kinship of these two beings i s not much closer than it appears.
I t w i l l be remarked first of all that the central part of the first
myth and the second in i ts entirety speak of exactly the same thing.
I nvolved i n b o t h i n s tances i s a journex strewn with obstacles: that of
the shaman going off in search of the spiri t of a s i ck b oy, and that
of the j aguar who is simply out for a walk . Now the q u i x o t i c or
mock-heroic adventures of our two protagonists actually conceal ,
under the mask o f a false innocence, a quite serious proj ec t , a very
important sort o f j o urney : the journex tha t takes the shamans to the
Sun . H ere we must i nvoke the ethnographi c context.
The shamans of the Chaco are not merely doctors, but also sooth
sayers capable o f seeing i n to the future ( the outcome o f a martial
exped i ti on , for exampl e ) . Sometimes, when they d o n o t feel cer
tain of their know l e dge , they go consult the S u n , w h o i s an omni
scient being. But the Sun , preferring not to be bothere d , has placed
a serie s of very d i fficult obstacles along the route l eading t o h i s
abode . That i s why only the best shamans , the most cunning and
courageous, manage to stand the tests; then the Sun agrees to extin
guish i t s rays and i n form those who come before h i m . E x pedi
tions o f this kind , preci sely because of their d i ffi c u l ty, are always
collective and are al ways enacted under the d i recti o n o f the most
e xperienced of the sorcerers . N ow, when one co mpares the ups
and d owns of a voyage to the Sun to the adventures o f the old
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shaman , one notices that the two myths in question describe, often
in precise detai l , the s tage s of the Great Voyage of the shamans.
The first myth tells o f a cure : the doctor sends his spiri t i n search
of the sick person's spiri t . Hut the fact that the j ourney i s con
ducted in a gro u p already implies that more than a routine excur
sion is at stake , that someth i ng much more solemn i s i nvolved : a
voyage to the Sun. F urthermore , certain obstacles encountered by
the shamans in the myth correspond to the traps with which the
Sun has marked o u t h i s road : the d ifferent barriers of thorns, for
i nstance, and the episode with the skunk. The latter, by blinding the
shaman , is repeating one of the moments of the voyage to the Sun :
thp p;Jss;Jge throll gh t h e d;Jrk n ess w h e re one does not see anyth ing .
I n the end , what is found i n this myth is a burlesque parody of
the voyage to the Sun , a paro d y that takes i ts pretext from a theme
that i s more fam i l iar to the I nd i ans ( the shamanistic cure ) so as to
poke fu n at their sorcerers twice over. A s for the second myth , it
takes up, v i rtually element by element, the scenario of the voyage
to the Sun , and the various games where the j aguar loses correspond
to the obstacles that the true shaman is abl e to surmount: the dance
in the thorn s , the branches that cri ss-cross, the skunk that plunges
the j aguar i n to darkne s s , and final l y, the I carian fl ight toward s the
sun i n the c o m pany o f the v u l ture . There i s actually n o t h i ng sur
pri s i ng i n the fact that the sun m e l ts the wax that holds the j ag
uar's w i ngs in p l ac e , s i nce b e fo re the Sun will e x t ingu ish its rays
the good shaman m u s t have gotten over the prev i ous obstacles.
Our two myths thus make usc o f the theme o f the G reat Voyage
to caricature shamans and j aguars by show i ng them to be i ncapa
ble of completing that voyage . It is not w i thout reason that the
i n d igenous m i n d chooses the ac tivity most close l y tied to the sha
man's task , the meeti ng wi th the Sun; it tries to i n trod uce a bound
l ess space between the shaman and the j aguar of the m y ths and
their goal , a s pace that is fi l l ed i n by the com i c . And the fall o f the

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j aguar who loses h i s wings through recklessness i s the metaphor

of a demystification i ntended by the myth .
Hence we find that the two road s on which the shaman and the
j aguar, respectively, are made to travel by the myths lead i n the
same d i rection ; we see the resemblance the myths set out to elicit
between the two protagonists gradually become more specifi c .
But are these parall e l s destined to m e e t ? An obj ection m i g h t be
countered to the above observations: while it is perfectly consis
tent and, one might say predictable even, for the fi rst myth to
evoke the setting o f the voyage to the Sun in order to make fun o f
those w h o accomplish the voyage - the shamans - one fai l s to
unders tand , on the o ther hand , the conj unction o f the j aguar qua
j aguar and the theme of the Great Voyage ; it is hard to c o mpre
hend why the indigenous mind call s upon this aspect o f shaman
ism in order to deri d e the j aguar. Since the two myths examined
do not throw any l ight on the q uestion , i t is agai n necessary to
rely on the ethnography of the Chaco.
As we have seen , various tribes of this region s hare the convic
tion that good shamans are capable of reaching the abode o f t h e
Sun, which permits them b o t h to demonstrate their talent and
enrich their know l e dge by q u estioning the omniscient h eavenl y
body. But for these I ndians there e xists another test of the power
( and mal i c e ) o f the better sorcerers: the fac t that the latter are
able to transform themselves into jaguars. The points o f s i m i l arity
between these two myths now cease to b e arb i trary, and the here
tofore external relationshi p between j aguars and shamans gives
place to an identity, since, from a certain viewpoint, shamans are
jaguars. Our demonstration wou l d be complete i f the converse of
this proposition could b e establ ished: are j aguars shaman s ?
Now another Chulupi myth ( too lengthy to b e transcribed here )
provides us with the answer: in former times, j aguars were in fact
shaman s . They were bad shamans , moreover, for, i ns t ead o f heal1 49

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N S T

T H E

S TAT E

Il1g thei r pati e n t s , t h e y s o ught rather to d evour them . I t wou ld

seem that the c i rc l e is now c losed , since this last piece o f inh)r
mation al lo\\'s us to c onfirm what \\Tnt beliJrC: jOHuors ore shamans.
By the same toke n , another obscure aspect of the second myth
becomes c l ear: i f i t makes the j aguar into the protagon i s t o fadven
t u res usual l y reserved for sorcerers , this i s because it is not a mat
ter of the j aguar as a j aguar, b u t the j aguar as a shaman .
The fac t , then, that th e shaman and the j aguar are in a sense
i n te rchangeabl e c o n fe rs a certain homogeneity on our two myths
and gives c red i b i l i ty to o u r i n i tia l hypothe s i s : name l y, that they
consti tute a kind o f group such that each o f the two c o m ponents
o f ,,"h i ch i t i s c o m posed can b e understood o n l y by reference to
the other. Of course, we are now a l ong \,"a)' from o u r point of
d e partu re . A t the ou tse t, the resemblance of the two myths \Vas
e x te rna l ; it was based s o l e l y on the nec e s s i t y for the i n d igenous
mind to bring about a myth i cal conj unction that was not possi ble
i n real i ty : that o f laughter o n one hand , the shaman and the j aguar
on the other. The prec e d i ng com mentary ( and let m e e m phasize
that i t i s by no m eans an ana l y s i s , b u t rather prel i m inary to s u c h a
treatment ) attempted to estab l i sh that this conj unction concealed
beneath i ts c o m i c i n t e n t the i d e n t i fication of the two characters.
\Vhen the I nd ia m l i sten to these stori e s , their on l y though t ,
natura l l y, i s to l augh at the m . B u t the comic clement o f t h e myths
docs not p revent the i r hav i ng a seri ous s i d e as wel l . '\ pedagogical
a i m can be d i scerned in the laughter p rovoke d : whi l e the m y t h ,
amuse t h o s e who hear them, at the same time they conn'y and
transm i t the c u l tu re o f the tri b e . They thus const i t u te the gay
sc i ence of the I nd ians .

The

Duty to Speak

To speak i s above all to possess the power to speak . O r agai n , the

exercise of power ensures the domination of speech: only the mas
ters can speak . As for the subj ec t s : they are bound to the s i l ence
o f respect, reverence , or terror. Speech and power m a i n ta i n rel a
tions such that the desire fo r one i s ful fill ed i n the conquest o f the
other. Whether prince, despot, or commander-i n-ch i e f, the man
of power is always not only the man who speaks, but the sole source
of l eg i t imate speec h : an i mpoverished speec h , a poor speech to
be sure , but one rich in efHciency, for it goes by the name command
a n d wants n o th i ng s ave t h e obedience o f the e x ecu tan t . S t a t i c
extremes i n themselves, power and speech owe the i r conti n u ed
e x istence to one another; each i s the substance of the other, and
the persistence of their c ou p l i ng , while it appears to transcend
h istory, yet fuels the movement of hi story : there i s a h i storical
event when - once what keeps them separate, hence dooms them
to n o n e xistence, has been done away w i th - power and speech
are founded i n the very act of the i r meeting. To take power is to
w i n speech .
Of course, the above remarks refer fi rst and foremost to s o c i e
ties based on the division: masters/ slave s , lords/ subj ec t s , l ead ers/
c i ti z e n s , etc . The hallmark of thi s d i v i s i o n , its pri v i l eged l o c u s of

S OCIE T Y

A G AI N S T

T HE

S TATE

proli ferati o n , i s the s ol i d , i rreducible, perhaps i rreversihle fact of

a power detached from society as a whole since i t i s h e l d b y o n l y a
few members. I t i s p ower that, havi ng become separate from soci
ety, i s exercis e d over, and if need be, against soci ety. The focus of
attention here has been the whole series of societies w i th a State,
from the mos t archaic despotisms to the most modern o f totali
tarian States, going by way of the democratic societies, whose State
apparatus , for all its l i beralism, nonetheless remains in remote con
trol of legitimate violence.
Speech and power hand in han d , bosom fri ends even : nothing
rings truer to our ears accustomed to that very message . Yet , the
(:on c l u sive evidence of ethnology cannot be ignored : the savage
worl d of tribes, the universe of primitive societies, or agai n - and
it is the same t h i ng - soci eties w i thout a State afford our reflec
tion , strangely, the same al l i ance of power and speech detected in
societies with a State. Over the tribe reigns the chief, and the l at
ter also reigns over the l anguage of the tribe. I n other words, and
especiall y as regards the primi tive American tribes, the I n dians,
the chief - the man of power - also holds the monopoly of speech.
I n the case of these Savages , the question to ask is not: who is your
chief? but rather: who among you is the one who speaks? The mas
ter of words is what many groups call their chief.
I t would seem then, that power and speech cannot be conceived
of separately, since their clearly metahistorical bond is no less indis
soluble in primitive societies than in formations w i th a State . I t
would be less t h a n exacting , however, to s t o p at a structural defI
nition of thi s relatio nship . I n fact, the radical break that divides
societies , whether real or possible, according to whether they have
or d o n o t have a State, i s bound t o affect the way power and speech
are linked . H ow, then, d o e s this bond operate in societies with
out a State ? The example of the I n dian tribes tel ls u s .
A difference emerges in t h e combination of speech a n d power
11; 2

T H E

D U T Y

TO

S P E A K

that i s b o th quite apparen t and very p ro fo u n d . I f i n s o c i e t i e s w i th

a State speech i s p ower's riBh t, i n societies without a State s p e e c h
i s power's

duty.

Or, to put i t d i fferently, I n d i an soc i e t i e s d o n o t

recogn i z e the c h i e f's right to speak b e c a u s e h e i s the c h i e f: t h e y

require t h a t the man destined to be c h i e f prove h i s command over
word s . Speech is an i m perative o b ligati o n for the c h i e f. The tribe
d eman d s to h e a r h i m : a s i l e n t chief i s n o l onger a c h i e f.
Let t here be no m i s take ; i nvolved here i s not the tast e , so k e e n
a mong many Savages , for fin e s p e e c h e s , oratorical tale n t , and fac
i l c lang u age. H e r e i t i s not a question of esthcti c s , b u t o f p o l i t i c s .
T h e whole political philosophy of pri m itive society can b e glimpsed
in the o b ligation o f the chief to b e a man o f speec h . T h i s is where
t h e space occupi ed by power u n fo l d s , a space that i s n o t as one
m ight i m agine i t . And i t i s the nature o f t h i s d iscourse w h o s e rep
etition is scrupul o u s l y seen to by the tri b e , i t i s the nature of this
masterfu l speech that d i rects u s t o the real l o c u s o f power.
What does the chief say ? What is the word o f a c hi e f l i k e ? F i rs t

01' all , i t i s a ritual ized act. Almost without excepti o n , t h e l e a d e r

addres s e s t h e group daily, at d aybreak and at d u s k . Stretched o u t
i n h i s hammock or seated n e x t t o h i s fire , h e d e l i vers t h e e x pected
d iscourse i n a loud voice. And h i s voice certain l y needs to b e strong
i n order to make i ts e l f heard . As a matter o f fac t , t h e r e i s n o gath
ering around the c h i e f when he speak s , no h u s h fal l s , everybo d y
g o e s a b o u t t h e i r b u s i ness as i f nothing w a s happening.

the chief is not spoken in order to be listened to.

The word of

A parad o x : n o b o d y pays

attenti o n t o the d iscourse o f the c h i e f. O r rathe r, they feign a l ack

of attent i o n . I f the chief, by d e fi n i t i o n , m u s t s u b m i t to the o bl i
gation to speak , the p e o p l e he addre s s e s , on the other h a n d , are
o b ligated only to appear not to hear h i m .
I n a s e n s e , they l o s e n o th i ng i n t h e barga i n . W h y ? Because t h e
c h i e f, for all h i s proli x i ty, l itera l l y says nothing. H i s d iscourse b a s i
c a l l y consists o f a celebrat i o n , repeated m a n y t i m e s , o f t h e n o r m s

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

S TAT E

o f traditional l i fe : "Our ancestors got on well l iving as they l ived .

Let us follow their example and in this way we will lead a peace
ful existence together." That i s just about what the d iscourse of a
chief boils down to. One understands why those for whom it i s
i n tended a r e n o t overly disturbed by it.
What does speaking signi fy i n this instance? Why docs the chief
have to speak j ust in order to say nothing? To what demand , com
i ng from primi tive society, does this empty speech that emanates
from the apparent seat o f power respond ? The discourse of the
chief is empty precisely because it is not a discourse of power. I n
primitive societies, in societies without a State, power i s not found
on the s i d e of the chief: it fol l ows that his word cannot be the
word of power, authori ty, or comman d . An order? Now there is
something the chief would be unable to give ; that is the kind of
fu llness his speech is denied . A chief forgetful of his duty who
attempted such a thing as an order would b e met by a sure refllsal
of obedience , and a denial of recognition would not be flr behind .
The chief crazy en ough to dream not so much of the abuse of a
power he does not possess , as of the use of power, the chief who tries
to act the chief, is aband oned . Pri mi tive soci ety is the place where
separate power is refused , b ecause the soc i e ty i tsel f, and not the
chieC i s the real l ocus of power.
I t is in the nature of pri m i tive soc iety to k now that v i o l ence i s
the essence of power. Deeply rooted i n that knowledge i s the con
cern to constantly keep power apart from the i nstitution of power,
command apart fro m the chief. And i t is the very domain ofspeech
that ensu res the se paration and d raws the dividing l i n e . By com
pe l l i ng the chief to m ove about in the area o f speech a l o n e , that
is, the opposite o f v i olcnce, the tribe m akes certai n that all things
w i l l remain i n their place, that the axis of power w i l l turn back
e x clusively to the social body, and that no d i splacement of forces
w i l l come to u pset the social order. The chief's obligation to speak ,
1 1) 4

T H E

D U T Y

TO S P E A K

that steady flow o f empty speech that he owes the tri b e , i s h i s i n fi

n ite d e b t , t h e guarantee that prevents t h e man of speech from
becomi ng a man of power.

P r o p h e ts I n the J u n g l e

I nd i an America never ceases to frustrate those w h o try t o deci

pher its great countenance. I n view of the unexpected places w here
i ts truth sometimes resides, we are obliged to reconsider the placid
i mage many have o f it, bearing in mind that i t may conform to thi s
i mage as a ruse. Tradi tion has handed down to u s a summary and
superficial l y veracious geography of the South American conti
nent and the people who inhab i t i t : o n the one han d , t h e A n dean
H ighland Cultures and all the glamour o f their refineme n t s ; on
the other, the cultures assigned to the Tropical Forest , a dark realm
o f tribes roaming t hrough savannas and j ungl e s . The ethnocen
tri s m o f this scheme i s unmistakable; i n a way fami l i ar to the West,
i t opposes civilization to barbarism. To comp lement this arrange
ment , the more scholarly belief is e xpressed that the life o f the
mind achi eves i t s nobler forms only when rooted i n the presuma
bly richer ground ora great civilization: the mind of Savages remains
a savage min d .
N o w there is a tribe that shows these notions to be untrue and
p roves the I ndian world capab l e o f surprising the Western e r who
l i s tens t o a l anguage which in former times wou l d have fou n d an
echo: the Mbya G uarani. Because i t flourishes i n the pristine fresh
ness o f a world where gods and men are on fami l iar terms , the
1 57

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

STAT E

rel ig i o u s t h o u g h t o f t h e s e I n dians takes o n the densi ty o f a free

and rigor o u s m e d i tati o n . T h e Tup i - G uaran i , of w h o m t h e Mbya
are one o f the last remaining tribes, presen t American i s t ethnology
w i th the e n i g m a o f a p ec u l i arity that drove them , starti ng p r i o r to
t h e Con q u e s t , t o s e a r c h u n c easing l y for the h e reaft e r promi sed by
t h e i r m y t h s , xwv mdra

ei;,

t h e Land Wi t h o u t E vi l . T h e most spec

tac u lar c o n s e q u e n c e o f this sacred (Iuest, (I u i te excepti onal f(JI'

South A m e r i c an I n d i a n s , i s known to u s : the great rel ig i o u s migra
t i o n s spoken of in the a c c o u n t s of the fi rs t c h roni c l e r s . Under the
l eadersh i p o f inspired shaman s , the tribes marched off, and , through
fas t i ng and d a n c i n g , a t t e m p t e d to reach the fabu l ou s abo d e of t h e
g o d s i n the eas t . R u t soon the frigh tfu l obstacle a p pea red , the p a i n
fu l l i m i t , t h e great ocean , a l l t h e m o re terri b l e a s i t c o n fi r m ed the
I n d i ans i n thei r certainty that i t s other shore was w h e re the eter
nal l and b egan . That is why the undaunted hope pers i sted o f reach
i n g it some day, and t h e s h a m a n s , attri b u t i ng their fai l u re t o a l ac k
o f fe rvo r, pati e n t l y a w a i t e d t h e c o m i ng of a sign or m e s s age fro m
on h igh t o r e n e w th e i r a t te m p t .
l i enee the Tu p i - G u aran i shamans e x erted a c o n s i d e rah l e i n ll u
e n c e o n t h e tri b e s , e s p ec i a l l y t h e greatest a m o ng th e m , t h e komi,
w hose s peec h , c o m p l ai ned the missionari es, c o n tained all the power
of t h e d e v i l . U n !() rtunate l y, t h e i r w ri t i ngs d o n o t give any i n d i ca
t i o n rega rd i ng the c o n t e n t o f t h e kdroi d i sc o u rs e s : d o u b t l ess f() r
t h e s i m p l e rea s o n t h a t t h e J c s u i ts wcrc l oath t o m a k e t h e m s e l v c s
the d evi l 's a c co m p l i c e s by reco rd i ng i n the i r o w n hand t h e t h i ngs
t h e d ev i l p ro p o s e d t o h i s I n d ian h e n c h m e n . B u t m e n s u c h a s
T h eve t , N o b rega , A n c h i e ta , e t a i , u n i n te n t i onal l y b e t rayed t h e i r
c e n sors' s i l en c e by ac k n o w l e d g i ng the s e d u c t i ve powers o f t h e
sorcere rs' s p e ec h , w h i c h w a s , i n t h e i r word s , t h e mai n h i n d ra n c e
t o t h e c o n vers i o n o f t h e Savage s . A t that p o i n t , t h e ad m i ss i o ll
s l i pped in that C h r i s t i a n i t y c o n fronted s o m e t h i ng i n t h e s p i ri t u a l
d o m a i n o f the Tu p i - G u a ra n i , that is, "pri m i t i ve " men, w h i c h was

P R O P H E T S

I N

T H E

J U N G L E

s o fo rc e fu l l y stated as t o b e a successfu l counter to t h e m i s s i onary

e n deavor. Surprised and b i tter, the zealous J e s u i t s u n c o m p rehend
i n g l y d i s c overe d , i n the d i ffi c u l ty of their preaching, the fi n i t u d e
o f t h e i r worl d a n d the inan i ty o f i t s l anguage : t h e y observ e d i n
amazement that the d i aboli cal s upersti tions o f the I nd ia n s c o u l d
b e e xal ted t o the highest regions o f something that i n s i sted on
b e i ng c a l l e d a rel igion .
Thus d ri ven underground, all this ancient knowledge risked being
l o s t forever i f the l a s t G uarani I nd i an s , m i n d fu l o f the d anger t o i t
a n d respectfu l o f i t s memory, had not k e p t i t a l i ve . A l though they
were a powerfu l p e o p l e in former times, o n l y a s m a l l n u m b e r o f
them surv i ve in the flJrests o f eastern Paragu ay. Admirabl e for thei r
p e rseverance in not renounci ng themselves, t h e Mbya, whom fou r
centuri e s o f abuse c o u l d n o t h u m b l e , o d d l y p e r s i s t i n i n h a b i t i ng
t h e i r a n c i e n t l an d fol l owing the e xample o f t h e i r anc e s t o rs , i n
fai t h fu l harmony w i th t h e norms d e c re e d by the gods b e fo re l eav
i ng thei r dwel l i ng p l a c e a n d entrusting i t to men. T h e Mbya have
m anaged to preserve their tribal i dentity aga i n s t a l l the c i rc u m
stances and tri a l s o f t h e i r p a s t . I n t h e seventeenth century, t h e
J e s u i t s fai l ed t o convince t h e m to fo rsake i d o l atry and rej o i n t h e
o t h e r I nd i ans i n the M i s s i o n s . W h a t the M b y a knew, and what
s t rengthened them i n thei r refusal , was the shame and the pain o f
seeing s o mething they despised threaten their own substance , their
p o i n t o f h o nor, and their mora l code : their gods and the d iscourse
o f t h e i r god s , grad u al l y erad i cated by the god o f the new c o m e r s .
T h e origi nality o f the G uarani l ie s in this refu s a l ; that accounts for
t h e i r very special place among the other I n d i ans and i s responsi
ble for the i n terest they oner ethnol ogy. I n fac t , o n e rarel y s e e s an
I nd i an c u l ture continue to pursue its e x istence in conform i t y w i th
t h e standards of i ts own system of b e l i e fs , and s u c c e e d in k e e p i ng
that par t i c u la r realm relatively free of any borrowings. More o ften
than n o t , contact b e t ween the white worl d and the I nd i an world
159

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A G A I NS T

T H E

ST A T E

results i n an i m p overis h i ng syncretism where, under the mask o f

an al ways s u p e r fi c i a l Christianity, i ndigenous thought seeks only
to postpone i t s own d e m i s e . But i t so happens that t h e outcome
was d i tTe rent in the case o f the Mbya; for, to date, they have con
s i stently doomed every m i s s i onary enterpri se to fai lure.
This centuries-old resi stance of the Guaran i to the rel igion o f

the juru 'o , t h e w h i te m e n , thus carri es the force o f the I n d i ans'

convi ction that their fate i s bound u p w i th the promise of the o l d

god s : that by l i v i ng o n t h e evi l earth , ywy m ba 'e, respecting the

norms, they w i l l receive fro m those on high the signs that w i l l
favor t h e o p e n i ng o f the road lead i ng to t h e eternal l an d , beyond
the terror o f the sea. One might wonder at a phenomenon that
could be represented as a kind o f fol l y : namely, the constancy of
that rigid assurance capable o f travers i ng h i story w i thout appear
i ng to he afTected by the fac t . That wou ld be to ignore the soci o
l og i cal i m pa c t o f rel i g i o u s fervor. A s a m a t t e r o f fac t , i f t h e
present-day Mbya s t i l l conceive of themselves as a tribe , that i s , a s
a social u n i t a i m i ng t o preserve its d i stinctive featu res, i t i s essen
tially because this i n tention is proj ec ted against a re l igious back
drop: the Mbya are a tribe because they are a non-Christian mi nori ty,
because the th i ng that cements thei r unity is the i r common fai t h .
Hence t h e system o f bel i e fs and values consti tutes the grou p as
su c h , and , conversely, the grou p's closing about i ts e l f indu ces i t ,
a s the j eal ous repository o f a knowl edge that i s honored even o n
the l o w l i e s t plane o f e x perience, t o remai n t h e faithfu l pro tec tor
o f its god s and the guard i an o f thei r l aw.
To be sure, the understan d i ng of re ligious matters i s unevenl y
d i stributed among the memhers of the tribe. The maj ority of t h e
I n d i ans are content, as i s natural , to parti c i pate d i l igen t l y i n t h e
ritual dances, respect t h e t rad i t ional norm s o f l i k , a n d gather t o
l i sten to the e x ho rtat i o n s o f t h e i r pa 'i, their shaman s . These latter
are the time sages who, l i ke t h e ka ra i o f old - fi lled with the same
Iho

P R O P HE T S I N

T HE

J U N G LE

passi o n s - abandon themselves to the exal tati o n of questioning

the i r god s . Here one rediscovers the I nd ians' taste fo r the spoken
word , b o t h as orators and as l i steners: masters o f word s and eager
to utter them, the caci ques-shamans al ways fi nd in the rest of the
I n dians an aud i e nce ready to hear them.
These d iscourses almost al ways d eal with the themes that l i ter
ally obsess the Mbya: their l o t on earth . the n ecessity to heed t h e
n o rm s l a i d down b y t h e god s , their hopes o f gai n i ng t h e state o f
perfecti o n , t h e state of aguyje, which alone allows those who reach
i t t o see the road to the Land \Vi thout Evil opened to them by the
i nhabi tants of heave n . The nature of the shamans' concerns, th e i r
meaning a n d i mport, a n d t h e manner i n which t h e shamans reveal
t h e m , make i t obvi ous that the word shaman i s i nad e q uate to
describe the true personality of these men capable of verbal ecstasy
w h e n m oved by the spiri t of the god s . Sometimes healers, but n o t
necessari l y, they are much less concerned to restore heal th to the
sick bod y than to acquire , through dance , that i nternal s trength
and fi rmness of spirit which alone are apt to please N amandu , Karai
Ru Etc, and all the deities who figure in the Guaran i pantheo n .
M o re than practitioners, then , the pa 'j are meditators . Resting on
the solid ground of myths and trad i t i ons, they d evote themselve s ,
each on h i s own account, t o a veritable gloss on those texts. Hence ,
one fi n d s among the G uarani what might be cal l e d two sed i m en
tations o f their oral " l i terature": one profane , that takes i n the
whole o f their mythol ogy, notably the great myth know n as the
m y t h o f the twin s ; another sacred , t h a t i s , kept secret fr o m the
w h i tes, a n d made u p of prayers, religious songs , and , fi nal l y, all
t h e i m p rovisations wrung from the pa 'j by the i r i n flamed fervor
when they feci a god d esires to speak through them . These pa 'i,
w h o m o n e is tempted to cal l prophets i nstead of shamans , g i ve
t h e asto n i sh i ng profundity o f thei r di scourse the form of a lan
guage remarkable for its poetic richness. We see i n i t a clear i n d i -

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

STAT E

c a t i o n of t h e I n d i an s ' c o n c e rn to del i m i t a s p h e re of t h e sacred s o

t h a t t h e l anguage w h i c h art i c u l ates it i s i tsel f a n egat i o n o f secular
l angu age . Verbal i nventio n , ari s i ng fro m the d e s i re to name b e i ngs
and t h i ngs a c c o rd i ng t o t h e i r h i d d e n d i m en s i o n , t h e i r d i v i n e
essence, resu l ts i n a l i ng u i s t i c transmutation of the everyday worl d ,
a noble s t y l e o f s p e e c h s o m e t i m e s m i staken for a secret l anguage .
I n t h i s way t h e M bya speak o f the " H ower of t h e bow" to d e s ig
nate the arrow, the "skeleton o f the fog" in n a m i ng the p i p e , and
" fl owery branc h e s " to evoke t h e li ngers of N amand u . An ad m i ra
ble tran s figu r a t i o n w h i c h p u t s an end to t h e confu s i o n and

limenl *
HJ Cn

o f the \\'o r l d o f a p pearances w h e re t h e passi o n

ressen
o f t h e last

docs not \vi s h to be d etai ned . '''' hat better name for t h e M hya ,

I nd ians w h o are res o l ve d n o t to o u t l ive the i r gods ?

The fi rst l ig h t o f d a w n trace s the tops o f t h e great tree s . There
awaken s s i m u l ta n eo u s l y i n the hearts o f the G u aran i I n d i ans the
ang u i sh of t h e i r

tekoachy ,

t h e i r tro u b l e d e x i stenc e , o n c e aga i n

brough t i n t o t h e l i g h t o f t h e s u n , c a l l i ng them back to t h e i r fate a s

i n h ab i ta n t s o f t h e earth . I t i s not u n c o m m o n at that h o u r to s e e a

po 'j stand u p . H i s v o i c e is i n s p i red by the i n v i s i b l e ones - i t w i l l

b e t h e l o c u s o f t h e d i a l og u e between h u mans and t h e gods - and
h e bestows on the rigor of h i s Wo rd the i m petus of a fa i th t h a t
q u i c kens t h e fi n e r f() r m s o f know l edge . Savage mat i n s i n t h e fo r
e s t , t h e s o l e m n w o r d s of h i s l a m e n t are d i rected to the eas t , t o
t he i r m e e t i ng w i t h t h e s u n , t h e v i s i b l e messenger o f N amand u ,
t h e m ig h t y l o rd o f t h o s e w h o l i ve o n h i gh : t h i s e x e m p l ary praye r
is a d d re s s e d to h i m .
C o n t rad i c t i ng t h e fi rst l eg i t i mate movement o f h o p e , the word s
i n s p i red i n t h e s u p p l icant by t h e r i s i ng sun gradual l y enc l ose h i m
w i t h i n t h e c i rc l e o f d i stress w h e re t h e s i l e n c e o t' the gods has aban-

* T h t' a. l l u s i o n h e re i s to N i t, t I_sclll'\ n o t i oll o f l h e h a t red s u b j ugated p e o p l e s

teL'] ff.)r t h e i r

m a s t e r s , t u rn e d i n t o ,} d e b i l i l cl t i llg se l f- h a tred or n";.cn limcn l . ( Tran'ilal o r's n o tc . )

162

P R O P H E T S

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d o n ed h i m . The efforts of m e n to b reak free of t h e i r earthl y con

d i t i o n a p p ear futile s i nce they d o n o t move t h o s e w h o m they
p e t i t i o n . But, having arrived at the furth e s t e x treme o f his doubt
amI angui s h , the rec o l l ection of the past and the m e m ory o f ances
tors returns to the o n e e x periencing these fee l i ng s : in t i m e s past
were n o t the dances, fasts, and prayers o f the ancestors rewarded ,
a n d was i t n o t grant e d them to cross the s e a , to d i s c over the way
acro s s ? That m e a n s , then, that men h ave a c l a i m to the attenti o n
o f the god s , that everything i s s t i l l p o s s ib l e . Confi d ence is thus
asserted i n a s i m i l ar d es tiny for the m e n of t h e p resen t , for the l a s t

JCEJlwkO l a :

their wai t i ng fiJr the Words will n o t b e i n vai n ; the

gods will make themselves heard by those who strain to hear the m .
Such i s t h e w a y the movement o f e ntreaty i s constru c t e d ; i t
c o m e s a t a n early hour, and yet i ts h o u r i s late . S o N a m an d u , l e t
ting h i s l ight s h i n e forth agai n , c o n s e n t s to l e t m e n l i v e : t h e i r n o c
t u r n a l sl e e p i s a d eath from which the dawn rescues t he m . But fiJI'
the

Jcgllaka va ,

the wearers o f the ritual masc u l i n e headdress , to

l i ve is not m erel y to awaken to the n e utral i ty o f t h i n g s . The M bya

wal k t h e earth as seekers , and the Father agrees to h ea r the com
plaint o f his adorned ones . B u t as the hope aris e s o n w h i c h the
vcry p o s s i b i l i ty o f q u e s tioning i s based , the terrestrial weari n e s s
i s work i ng to slow i ts m o m e n t u m . F l e s h and b l o o d are the m e a
sure of t h e i r fatigu e , a n d prayer and dance can overco m e i t , espe
c i a l l y d a n c e , whose precise rhythm rel i eves the body o f i t s earthl y
b u rd e n . What absence e x p l a i n s this q u e s t s o pressing that it u s h
e r s i n t h e day ? T h a t o f t h e nc 'e para

tenondc, the p r i m o r d i a l b e a t i fi c

\\ o rd s , t h e d i v i n e language where dwel l s the salvat i o n o f m e n . A

pause on the threshold of their true abod e : s u c h i s t h e l i fe o f the

Jegllaka va

o n the evil earth . I mperfe c t i o n o f b o d y and soul pre

vents t h e m from abandoning it. I m perfecti o n is t h e o n l y t h i ng

that k e e p s them this side o f the fron t i e r, the metaphorical sea,
l es s fi'ig h t e n i ng i n i t s reali ty ( wh i c h m o re o ft e n than n o t the lmli-

SOCIE T Y

ACAI N S T

T H E STAl E

ans have n o t k n own) than for the fact that it is emble matic of the
perhaps d e fi nitive a l lotment o f the h u man and the divine, each
rooted to its own shore . And yet, the desire of the M bya is to
pl ease the gods, to m e rit the vVords that wil l open the way to the
eternal land, the Words that teach men the norms o f their fu ture
existence . May the gods speak at last! May they recognize the eHort
of men, thei r fasts, their dance" their prayers! The jeguaka\(] tenond!'
poriingue 'i , the l ast of those who were the fi rst to be adorned, no

less rich in merits than their forefathe rs, long to l eave the earth :
then wil l their destiny be fu l fi l l ed.
What fol l ows is an Indian's meditative prayer, tragic in the earl y
rn o r n i Ilg s i l c i lc e u r a fJ re s t : the c lari ty o f i t s appeal i s n n t ITIarrcd

by the u n d e rground prese nce of the Guarani feeling and taste I{ Jr

d eath, th eir d e stination; it is a token o f th eir conside rabl e wis
dom that it is one road they know h o\\' to traYe I .
hither! No m o n du ! . 1Elain tho u hast seen fit th a t / risc!
/n like m a n n er, agoin th ou host seen fit tha t the JetJuaka l'O rise,
the adorned broth ers in their totalitl :
, I nd the joch uka \'(/, thc o dorned sisters, oi/ain thou has seen lit t h a t
t h e r too rise ill t h e ir totolit l :
;I f)(/

us

for a/l t h ose t h o u h a s t not prOl'ided lI'ith the Jcww ko ,'a, thou

hos t seen lit thot t /lLT too rise in their toto/it l:

f leor m e noll': on beh a /r or t h e adorned ones, on bclw/r of those II ho
(Ire not tIn o dorned on es,

011

beho/j or a l! or t h esc, / question.

,I nd i ct, as FJr a ll tha t,

the l I'ords, t h o u dost not u t ter t hem, I\ (/ro i R u Ltc:
neither jin me, nor jin t /H SOilS hound ji J r t h e indest ruct ible Id n d,
the e t e rn a / la n d wh ich no pe t t iness oft en.
Ihou dost not u tter the lI'on/,

II

here lie the ru t ure norms

or our s t rent/ th, the fu ture norms or our fervor.

P R O P H E T S

I N

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J U N G L E

For, in truth,
I exist in a manner imperfect,
mx blood is of a nature imperfect,
mX flesh is of o no ture imperfect,
it is horrible, it is lacking in all excellence.
Things beinH th us armnged,
so tha t mx blood of o notl1rc imperfect,
so tha t my flesh ofa naLll re imperfect,
shake themselves and cast their imperfection far from them:
with bended knees, I bow down, l with a valorous heart in view.
And Xet hear this: thou dost not u tter the words.
And so, because of all tha t,
it is surelX not in I'ain tha t I mrself am in need
of thy words:
those of the future norms of strength,
those of the future norms 01 0 Hllorous heart,
those of the future norms offermr.
NothinH now, amon8 oll lhinHs, inspires mx heart with valor.
NothinH now points me to the future norms of mx existence.
11nd the m alefic sea, the malefic sea,
thou h ast not seen fit tha t I mxseIf cross it.
That is why, in truth, that is why, they are now
b u t fe w in num ber, mx brothers,
theX a re now b u t fe w in number, mx sisters.
Hear this: on bchalf of the fcw who remain,
l m ake heard m t lamenta tion.
On behalf of those, oloin I question:
for Namondu sees fit tha t they rise.
I

\ d " , c r i p t i o n of o n e of t h e move m e n ts of the r i tual d a nc e .

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N S T

T H E

S TAT E

Things being th us arranged,

as for those who rise, in their totality,
it is to their future nourishment thex turn the a ttention
of their gaze, all of them;
and as the a ttention of their gaze is turned to their future
nourishm en t,
so they are those who exist, all of them.
Thou dost sec fit tha t their words take wing,
thou dost inspire their questioning,
thou dost sec fit tha t from all of them arises a great lamenta tion.
But hear this: 1 rise in my effort,
and yet thou dost not utter the words; no, in truth, thou
dost not utter the words.
A ccordingv. this is wha t 1 am brought to say,
Karai R u Etc, K arai Chy Etc:
those who were not fe w in num ber,
those intended for the indestructible land, the eternal land
which no pettiness aiters,
all those, thou didst see fit tha t in tru th they question,
in former times, concerning the future norms of their own existence.
And assuredh; thev were given to kno w them in their perfection,
in former times.
;l nd as for me, if my nat ure surrenders to its customav imperfection,
if the blood surrenders to its customarv imperfection of times post:
then, assuredh; tha t does not come Fom all the evil things,
but Fom the fact that my blood of a nature imperfect, my flesh
of a nature imperfect are shaking themselves and cas tint] their
impe1ection for from them.
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Tha t is why, thou will lIttcr the words in abundance,

the words whose soul is excellent,
for him whose face is not divided by any sian. 2 Thou
will u tter them in a bundance, the words,
oh ! thou, Karai R u Ete, and thou, Karai ChI' Etc,
for all those intended for the indestructible land, the eternal
lan d which no pettiness alters,
Thou, You!3

2.

l . e . , lor those who refuse t h e Christian b apt i s m .

3 . T h i s t e x t w a s obtained i n J u n e

1 9 66

i n eastern Paraguay. I t w a s recorded i n t h e i n d ige

nous l an g u age and trans l a ted w i th the h e l p o f Leon Cadogan . I wo u l d l i ke to take t h i s

0 l'po r tu n i t y t o thank h i m .

Of the One Without the Many

Jt

was a fter the flood. A sly and calculating god was instructing his
son how to put the world back together: "This is what you will
do, my son. Lay the fu ture foundations o f the i m perfect earth . . .
Place a good hook as the fu ture foundation o f the earth . . . the
l i t t l e w i l d pig will be the one to cause the i m p erfect earth to
m u l t i p l y . . . \Vhen it has reached the size we wan t , I will let you
know, my son . . . J , Tupan , am the one who looks after the sup
port o f the earth . . . " Tu pan , master of the hai l , rain , and w i n d s ,
w a s bored ; h e w a s having to play b y himself and fel t the need for
c o m pany. But not j ust anyone, not j ust anywhere. The gods l ike
to choose their playmates. And this one wanted the new earth to
be an i m perfect earth, an evil earth , yet one capab l e of welcoming
the l i t t l e beings destined to stay there. That i s why, seeing ahead ,
h e knew in advance that he wou l d have to fac e N ande Ru E t c , the
master o f a fog that rises, heavy and dark , from the pipe he smokes ,
making the imperfect earth uninhabitable. " I sing more than N and e
Ru E t e . I \vill know what to d o ; I will return . I w i l l make it so
that the fog will lie light on the i mperfect earth . It is only i n this
way that those l i ttle beings we are send ing there w i l l b e cool ,
happy. Those we are sending to the earth, our little childre n , those

SOC I E T Y

A G A I NS T

T H E ST A T E

bits of ourselves , w i l l be happy. We have to fool them." The divine

Tupan was mischievou s .
W h o i s speak i ng thus i n t h e n ame o f the god ? What fearless
mortal dare s , w i th o u t trem b l i ng, t o place h i m sel f an a l evel with
one of the powers o n high ? l ie is not mad , however, this modest
earth d we l le r. It is one o f those l ittle beings to whom Tupan at
the dawn o f time assign ed the task of amusi ng h i m . I t i s a G uarani
I ndian . Rich in the knowl edge o f things, he is re flecting on the
destiny o f his people who choose to cal l the mselves, with a proud
and bitter assuran c e , the Last Men . The god s someti mes d i sclose
their design s . And he, the karai, who i s adept at understand i ng
them and dedicated to speaking the tru t h , reveals what h e learns
to his comrad es.
That parti cular night Tu pan inspired him; his mouth was divine.
He was h i m s e l f the god and told of the gen e s i s of the i m perfect
earth , ymy mba 'emegua , the residence mischievously appoi nted for
the happiness of the Guaran i . He spoke at l ength , and the l ight of
the flames i l l u m i n ated metamorphose s : sometimes the cal m face
o f the i n d i fferent Tu pan , and the sweep of the grand language ;
other t i m e s the an x i ous tenseness o f an a l l too human face com
i ng back a m i d s t strange wo rd s . The discourse o f the god was fo l
l owed b y the search for i ts meaning; t h e m i nd o f a mortal sought
to i n terpret i ts m i s l ead i ng evidence. The d e i t i e s do not have to
re fl ec t . And the Last Men, for their part , arc u n resigned : they arc
the last no d o u b t , but they kn ow why. And 10 and beho l d , the
i ns p i red l i ps of the komi p i e rced the ri d d l e of mi sf() rtu ne w i th an
i n n ocent c o m m e n tary and a c h i l l i ng revelation , whose bri l l iance
i s u n ta i n ted by a trace of ressen timent: "Th i ngs in th e i r total ity arc
one; and fClr us w h o d i d not d e s i re i t to be so, they arc ev i \ ."
Wi thout quest i o n , t h i s fragment lacks n e i ther obscuri ty nor
d e pth . The i d eas e x pressed i n i t e x ert a d o u b l e appeal : ow i ng to
their harshness, and th e i r sourc e . For these are the thoughts o f a
170

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T H E

M A N Y

Savage , an anony m o u s author, an o l d G u arani shaman deep in a

Paraguayan fo rest. And there i s no d enying that they are n o t c o m
p l etely a l i en to u s .
T h e q uestion addressed i s the genealogy of m i s fortune . The text
points out that things are evil. Men inhabit an i m p erfect, evil earth .
I t has al ways been s o . The G u aran i are used to m i s fortune . It i s
n e i ther n e w nor surpri sing t o them. They knew about i t long b e fore
the arriv a l of the We sterners , who taug h t them n o t h i ng on the
s u bj ec t . The Guarani were never good savage s . They were a peo
ple rel entlessly obsessed by the b e l i e f that t h ey were n o t created
Ic)r m i s k> rtune, and the certainty that one d ay they wou l d reach

yll:v

moro-eji,

the Land \Vi thout E vi l . And t h e i r sages , cease lessl y

m e d i tating on the means of reaching i t , wou l d refl e c t on the prob

l e m o f t h e i r origin . How does it happen that we inhabi t an i m per
fec t earth ? The grandeur of the question i s matched by the heroism
o f t h e re p l y : M e n are n o t to b l am e i f e x istence i s unj u s t . We need
not beat our breasts because we exist i n a state o f i m p erfec t i o n .
W h a t i s at t h e r o o t of the i m p e rfection b e s e t t i ng m e n ,

we did not desire ? I t ari ses from the fac t that " t h i ngs

which

in t h e i r totali ty

are one." A start l i ng u t teran c e , of a k i n d to send Western thought

ree l i ng back to i ts beginning s . Ye t , th i s i s indeed w h a t G u arani
thi nkers say, what they are continuall y proclai m i ng - and they pur
s u e i t s s trictest consequen c e s , i t s most unsettl i ng i m p l i cati o n s :
misfortune is engendered b y the imperfection of t h e worl d , because
all thing s that constitute the i m p e rfec t world are o n e . B e i ng one
i s the pro perty shared b y the things o f t h e worl d . T h e One is the
name o f the i m perfec t . To s u m u p the deadly c o n c i s i o n o f i t s d i s
c o u r s e , G u arani thought s a y s that the One i s Evil i t s e l f.
The m i s fortune of h u man e x i s tenc e , the i m perfe c t i o n of t h e
worl d , a u n i ty s e e n as a rift i n sc r i b e d at the heart o f t h e t h i ng s t h a t
c o m p r i s e the worl d : t h a t i s w h a t the G uarani rej e c t ; that i s what
h a s i m p e l led them fi-om t i m e i mmemorial to search fo r another
17 1

S O C : E T Y

A G A I N S T

T H e:.

STAT E

space where they might know the happiness of an e x i s tence healed

o f i t s essential ,,"ou n d - an e x i stence u n fo l d i ng towards a h o rizon
free o f the O n e . But what is t h i s not-One so stubborn l y d e s i red by
the G uaran i ? I s it the perfe c t i o n o f the ,vo rl d to be found i n the
M any, accord i ng to a d i ch o t o m y fam i l iar to We stern m e taphys
ics? And do the G uaran i , unlike the anci ent Greeks, place the Good
there where , spontaneously, we d eny it? W h i l e it is tru e that one
fi n d s i n the G u aran i an
and i n the G reeks a

active revolt against the tyranny of the O n e ,

contempla tive nostolgia fo r the One , it i s not t h e

i'l any w h i c h the f()rm e r embrac e ; the G u arani I n dians d o not d i s

cO\'er the G o o d , t h e P e r fe c t , i n t h e m e c h a n i c a l d i s i n tegrati o n

o f t h e One ,
I n what s e n s e do the t h i ngs said to be O n e fal l by that very fac t
w i t h i n the e v i l fi e l d o f i m p erfec t i o n ? O n e i n terpre tation h a s t o
be ru led o u t , even though a li teral read i ng of t h e frag ment seems
to i nv i te i t : that the O n e is the A l l . The G uarani sage declares that
" t h i ngs in t h e i r total i ty are O n e , " but he does not name the Al l , a
category perhaps a b s e n t fro m h i s t h ough t . H e e x p l a i n s t h a t each
of the "thi ngs , " taken o n e by o n e , that make up the world - earth
and s k y, water and fi rc , a n i m a l s and p l a n t s , a n d las t l y men - is
marked , grave n w i t h t h e s e a l o f the O n e . \V hat is a t h i ng that i s
( hll' ? I l o w d o wc re cogni l(' the mark o f the One on t h i ng s ?
O n e is e v e r y t h i n g c o rr u p t i b l e . The m o d e o f e x i stence o f t h e
O n e is the tra n s i t o ry, t h e n ee t i n g , the e p h e meral . W hatever i s
b o rn , grows , a n d d e v e l o p s o n l y i n o rd e r to p e r i s h w i l l be cal l ed
the ( ) n e . W h a t d o e s that mean ? l l e re one gai n s acces s , via a bi/,arre
use of the i d e n t i t y pr i n c i p l e , to t h e b u n d a t i o n o f t h e G u aran i
re lig i o u s uni v e rse . C a s t o n the s i d e of the corru pti b l e , the O n e
b e c o m e s the s i g n o f the F i n i t e . T h e wo rl d o f m e n harbors n o t h i ng
but i m pe rll- c t i o n . d ec ay, a n d ug l i ne s s : t h e ug l y l a n d , the other
name I()r the evil l a n d . )'I\T

mba 'c megua;

it is the k i ngd o m of d eath .

I t can be s a i d - G u a ra n i thought says - that every t h i ng in motion

'7 2

O F

T H E

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W I T H O U T

T H E

M A N Y

along a t raj ectory, every mortal thing, i s o n e . The O n e : the anchor

age o f d e a t h . Death : the fate of what i s one. Why are t h e t h i ng s
t h a t m a k e u p t h e i m p e rfect world m o rtal ? Because t h e y a r e fi n i t e ;
because t h e y are

incomplete.

What i s corru p t i b l e d i e s o f u n fu l fi l l

m e n t ; t h e O n e describes what i s i nc o m p l e t e .
Perhaps we can see i t more c l e a r l y now. T h e i m perfe c t earth
w h e re " th i ngs i n thei r total i ty are o n e " i s t h e reign o f the i n c o m
p l e te and t h e s p a c e o f t h e fi n i t e ; i t i s t h e fi e l d o f s t r i c t a p p l i cat i on
of the i d en t i t y p ri n c i p l e . For, to say that A

A, t h i s is t h i s , and a

man is a man, is to s i m u l taneou s l y state that A is n o t n o t - A , this i s

n o t that, and m e n are not gods . To name the oneness i n things, t o
name t h i ngs accord i ng t o the i r o n e n e s s , i s t antamount t o assign
i ng them l i m i t s , fin i t u d e , i nc o m p l e tenes s . I t i s t h e trag i c d i scov
e r y that this power

(pouvoir)

to des ignate t h e wo r l d and d e fi n e i t s

beings - this is thi s, and not another thing - is but an absurd apology
for real p ower (puissance ), the secret power that can s i l e n t l y declare
that th i s is this and, at the same time, that ; G u a ra n i are m e n and, a t
the same time, god s . W h a t m akes t h e cl i s c overy trag i c i s that lVe did
not desire it to be 50 , we others w h o know o u r l anguag e to be d e c e p
t i v e , we w h o n e v e r s p a r e d any effort i n o r d e r to r e a c h t h e h o m e o f
t h e true l anguage , the i ncorruptible dwel l i ng place of the gods , the
Land Wi thout E vi l , where nothi ng in e x i stence can b e cal l ed o n e .
I n the land o f t h e not-One, where m i s fortune is abo l i shed , maize
grows all by i ts e l f; t h e arrow brings the g a m e back to t h o s e who
no l o nger need to hunt; the regulated n u x o f marriages i s unknow n ;
men , e ternall y young, live forever. An inhabi tant o f the Land With
out E v i l cannot b e named univocal l y : h e i s a man , o f c o u r s e , b u t
a l s o man's o t h e r, a god . E v i l is the One . G o o d i s n o t t h e m any, it i s
th e

dual,

b o t h t h e o n e and i ts other, the

nates c om p l e t e b e i n g s . YlvY

maw-et,

dual that t ru t h fu l l y d e s ig

t h e d e s t i n a t i o n o f the Last

l\len , shel ters neither men nor god s : only equal s , d i v i n e men, human
god s , so that none o f them can b e named accord i ng to the O n e .
17 3

SOC I E T Y

A G A I NS T

T H E ST A T E

There is no people more religi ous than the Guarani I ndian s ,

w h o d own through the centuries haughtily rej ected serv i tude t o
the imperfect earth, a people o farrogant madness whose self-esteem
was so great that they aspired to a place among the deities. Not so
long ago they s t i l l wandered i n search of their true native l an d ,
which they i m agined , o r rather knew, t o be located over there, i n
the d i rection o f t h e r i s i ng s u n , " the d i rection of o u r face." And
many ti m e s , having arri ved on the beaches, at the edges o f t h e evil
worl d , a l m o s t i n sight o f their goal , they were halted by the same
ruse o f the god s , the same gri e f, the same fai l u re : the obstacle to
eterni ty,

10

mer alice a vec Ie soleil. *

Their n u m bers are small now, and they wonder i f they are n o t
l i v i ng o u l l h e Jedlh u f t h e guds , l iving their own death. We are the
last men . And sti l l they d o n o t abdicate; the komi, the prophets ,

fast overcome their despondency. W hence comes the strength that

keeps them from giving u p ? Could it be that they are b l i n d ? I nsane ?
T h e explanation i s that t h e heavi ness o f fai l ure, the s i l ence of the
sky, the repetition of m i s fortune are never taken by them as final .
Do not the gods somet i m es d e ign to speak ? Is there not always,
somewhere d e e p in the forest, a Chosen One l i stening to their
di scourse ? That night, Tu pan renewed the age-old pro m i se , speak
ing th rough the mouth o f an I n dian in habi ted by the s p i r i t o f the
god . "Those whom we send to the i m perfect eart h , my s o n , we
will cause to prosper. They w i l l fi n d th e i r fu tu re spouses; they
w i l l marry them and they will have c h i l d ren: so that thex mi[Jht

a ttain the \l ords tha t isslIe from

liS.

I f they

d o not attai n them , noth

ing good will come to t h e m . A l l that we are sure o f."

That i s why, i n d i ffe ren t to all the rest - all the th ings that are
one - caring o n l y to rid themselves o f a m i s fo rtune they did not
* F rolll R i m ba u d 's poe lll " L t i..' r n i t i ." An a p p ro x i ma t i o n i n L ng l i s h m i g h t

become

o n e w i t h t h e sca." ( Tra n s l ator's n O h' , )

174

be: "the

U ll

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O N E

W I T H O U T

T H E

M A N Y

desire, the Guarani I ndians take comfort i n hearing once more

the voi c e of the god : " I , Tupan , give you these c o u n s e l s . I f one o f
these teachings s tays i n you r ears , i n you r hearing , you w i l l know
my footsteps . . . Only in this manner will you reach the end that
was foretold to you . .

am going far away, far away, I say. You w i l l

n o t s e e m e aga i n . Therefore, d o n o t lose my names."

O f To r t u r e i n
P r i m i t i ve So c i e t i e s

1.

The la w and writing

No one i s meant to forget the severity of the l aw. Dura lex sed lex .
Vari ous means have been devised , depending o n the epoch and
the society, for keeping the memory of that severity ever fresh.
For us the simplest and most recent was the general ization o f free
and compulsory school ing. Once universal education became l eg
i slated fac t , no one C O li lei, wi thou t lying - without transgressing
plead ignoran c e . For, in i ts severity, the l aw i s at the same time
writing . Writing i s o n the side of the law; the law lives in writing;
and knowing the one means that unfami l iarity with the other is
no longer possible. Hence all law is written; all writing is an index
o f l aw. This i s one o f the lessons to be drawn from the procession
o f histo ry's great despots, all the kings, emperors , and pharaohs,
all the Suns who were abl e to impose their Law on the peoples
under them : everywhere and without e x cepti o n , the reinvented
writing directly bespeaks the power of the law, be i t engraved in
ston e , painted on anim,1l skins, or drawn on papyru s . Even the
qUipu o f the I ncas can be regarded as a type of writing. Far from
being merely mnemotcchnic instruments of accountancy, the knot
ted cords were p rimaril y and of necessity a wri t i ng that asserted
the legiti macy of the imperial law and the terror it was intended
to inspire.
17 7

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

S TAT E

I I . Writing and the body

Various l i terary works teach u s how the law contrives to annex
u n foreseen places for its i nscri ption. The officer of In the Penal

Colonyl explains in detail to the explorer the operation of the machine

for writing the la w:
"Our sentence does not sound severe . Whatever commandment
the prisoner has d i sobeyed is written upon his body by the H ar
row. This prisoner, for instance" - the officer indicated the man
-"wil l have written on h i s body: HONOR THY S U P E R I O R S ! "
And , as i f i t were a m a t t e r of common sense , t h e officer repl i e s
to the explorer, who w a s astounded to l earn that t h e condemned
man did not know the s e n tence that had been passed on h i m :
"There would be n o point i n telling him. He'll l earn it o n his body."
And l ater:
You have seen how d i ffi c u l t it is to deci pher the scri pt w i th
one's eyes ; but o u r man deci phers it with h i s wou n d s . To be
sure, that is a hard task ; h e needs six hours to accompl i s h i t .
H e re Kafka designates t h e body a s a wri ting surface, a surface
s u i ted for recei v ing the l eg i b l e text of the law.
And i f i t i s obj ected that something merely invented by a wri ter's
i magination cannot be a p p l i e d to the domain of soci a l facts, the
reply can be made that the K a fk i an del i ri u m seems in th i s case
somewhat a n t i c i pato ry, and that l i terary fi ction prefigures the
1.

rranl. K afka, " I n the Penal Colony," i n

The Com p lete StoriCI,

Willa and E d win M u ir, trans .,

Nt,\\, York , Schockl'n, 1 9 7 1 .

2.

Mart c h l'nko. MOil

"Combats " ) , 1 9 7 1 .

ICmoill ""Ii" '

Franois Oliver, trans . , Paris, Ed itions d u Sl'uil ( Coil.

O F

TO R T U R E

IN

P R I M I T I V E SOC I E T I ES

most contemporary reality. The testimony ofMartchenk02 soberl y

i l l u s trates the tri p l e a l l iance, intui ted by Kafka, between the l aw,
writing, and the body:
E t a l o rs naissent les tatouages . rai connu d e u x anciens droits
communs devenus des "politiques"; l 'un repondait au surnom
de Moussa, I'autre a celu i de MazaL Ils avaient Ie front, l es j oues
tatouees: "Communistes-Bourreaux , " "Les communistes sucent
I e sang d u peop l e ." Plus tard , j e devais rencon trer beaucoup d e
deportes portant de semblables maximes gravees s u r leurs visages.
L e p l u s souve n t , tout leur fro n t portait en grosses l e tt r e s :
" E SCLAVES D E K H RO UTCHEV, " "ESCLAVE D U P.C . U . S ."
[And then the tattoos appeare d . I met two former common l aw
prisoners who had become "politicals"; one ans wered to the
n ickname Moussa; the other was call e d MazaL Their forehead s
and cheeks had been tatooed : "Communist-Butchers , " "The
c o m m u nists suck the blood o f the p eo p l e ." Later, I was to
encounter many deportees who bore similar maxims e ngraved
on their faces. Most frequently, their whole foreheads carri ed
i n big l e tters: " S LAVES OF K H R U S I I C H E V, " " S LAV E O F
T H E c . P. S . U ."l
But there is something in the reality of the camps of the U . S . S . R .
d u ri ng t h e decade of the si xties that surpasses even the fiction o f
the penal col ony. I n the latter, the system of the l aw needs a machine
for w ri t i ng i ts text on the body of the prisoner, who passively sub
m i ts to the ordeal . I n the real cam p , the trip l e a l l iance, carried to
its extreme point o f constriction, does away w i th even the neces
sity o f a machine; o r rather, it is the prisoner himself who is transformed
in to a machine for writing the Ja w, and who inscribes it on his own
body. I n the penal colonies of Mold avia, the harshness o f the law
179

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A G A I NS T

T H E ST A T E

fixes upon the very han d , t h e very body o f the d e l i nquent v i c t i m

for i t s d e c larat i o n . The l i m i t i s reach e d ; t h e pri soner i s u tterly out

la wed : his body wri tes the d ecree.

III.
A

The b()(h and the rile

very l a rge number o f pri m i t i ve soc ieties m ark th e i mportance

they attach to the ad m i ss i on o f thei r young peopl e i n to adulthood

by the i n sti t u t i o n o f the so-call ed r i t e s o f passage. T h ese i n i t i a
tion rituals often consti tute a bas i c ax i s around w h i c h the whole
social and rel ig i o u s l i fe o f the com m u n i ty i s organ ized . Now the
i n i t iatory rite al ways i nvol ves a lay i ng hold of the body. I t i s t h e
body in i ts i mmediacy that t h e soc i e ty appo i n t s as t h e o n l y space
that lends to beari ng the sign of a timc, t h e trace o f a passagc, a n d
t h e a l l otment o f a d e s t i ny. W h at secret are i n i t i ates m a d e privy to
by the rite that, for a m o m e n t , takes hilI possession o f t h e i r bod
i e s ? A re c ogn i t i o n

of t h e i n t i macy, t h e com p l i c i ty o f t h e bo d y a n d

the s e c re t , t h e b od y a n d the truth revealed b y t h e i n i t i a t i o n , l e a d s

one

t o q u e s t i o n fu rt h e r. W hy must t h e i n d i v i d ual h o d y be the

!<xa l poi n t o l t h e t r i b a l ethos ? W hy can t h e s e c re t o n l y be c o m m u

n i c a t e d by

means o f the soc i a l e n ac t m e n t o f the ri te o n the bu( o f

the young peop l e ? T h e b od y m e d i a t e s t h e a c q u i s i t i o n o l a k n ow l

e dge ; t h a t k n o w l e dg e i s i n sc r i b e d o n
o f i n i t i a t i o n i s c o n ta i n ed

t h e body. T h e s i g n i fi canc e

i n the a n s w e r t o t h e t \\ o !() l d q u c s t i o n
'

c o n c e rn i ng t h e nature o f t h e k n o w l e d g e t ra n s m i t te d b y t h e ri te ,
and

I V.

t h e fu n c t i o n of the body i n the perf( J rI n a n c e of t h e rite.

Fhe rile and torture

O h ! "horrible I'isu - et m iro bile dictu." T h a n k G o d , i t i s over, t h a t I
have s e c n i t , a n d a m a b l e to t e l l i t t o t h e ""or l d .

G e o rge C a t l i n l h a s j u s t

w i tnessed , f( x four d ays ru n n i ng , the great

180

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I N

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a n n u al c e remony of the Mandan I n d i a n s . I n t h e d e s c ri p t i o n h e

g i v e s o f i t , as well as i n the fi nely e x ecuted s k e t c h e s that i l lu strate
it, he cannot k e e p fro m e x pressing - d e s p i te t h e a d m i ra t i o n h e
fee l s for t h e s e great warri o rs of t h e P l a i n s - h i s horror a n d repug
nance a t s e eing t h e ri tual spectac l e . An u n u e rs tan d a b l e res p o n s e ,
c o n s i d e ri n g t h a t w h il e the ceremonial i s a t ak i ng p o s s e s s i o n o f
t h e b o d y b y soc i ety, the l atter does not seize h o l d o f i t i n j u s t any
m a n n e r : a lmost i nvariab l y - and this i s what h o rrifIes Catl i n - the
ri t u a l s u bj ects t h e b o d y t o torture :
O n e a t a t i m e , one o f t h e you ng fel l ow s , already emaciated w i t h
fasting, a n d thi rsting, and waking, for nearl y four days and nights,
advanced from t h e s i d e of the l o dge , and p l aced h i m s e l f on h i s
h a n d s a n d fee t , o r otherw i s e , as b e s t s u i te d for t h e p e rformance
of t h e o perat i o n , where h e s u b m i t te d to t h e c ru e l t i e s . . . .
H o l e s p i erced i n t h e body, skewers forced through t h e wound s ,
hanging, amputati on , " the l ast race,"* torn fl esh: cruelty's resources
s e e m i n e x haus t i b l e .
And vet:
T h e u n fli n c h i ng fortitude w i t h which every o n e o f them b o re
t h i s part o f t h e torture surpassed cred u l i t y ; each o n e as the k n i fe
was p a s s e d t h rough h i s fl esh sustained an unchangeabl e c o u n
tenance ; and s everal of them , seeing m e mak i ng sketc h e s , beck3. C . Catl i n ,
!Julians,

Let ters and ,\':otcs on the A1anncn, Customs, and Condition of the ,\Jorth /l mcrkan

:\'C\\" Yo rk , Dover, 1 9 T 1 .

* T h i s reier, t o that part of t h e Mandan ordeal i n which t h e a l ready e x ha u sted young men
\\'ere mad" to run (or be J raggt'd ) u n t i l t h e weights attached to t h e i r arms and l egs r i p p"d
the wo o d e ll pegs fro m t h e i r flesh, signal i ng the s u c c c ss fu l c o m p l e t i o n of t h e i n i t i a t i o n .
( Tra n s l a to r's note . )

181

SOCI E T Y

A G AI N S T

T H E STATE

oned me to look at their faces, which I watched through a l l

t h i s horrid operat i o n , w i thout being able to detect anyth i ng but
the pleasantest smiles as they looked me i n the eye , while I could
hear the knife rip through the flesh, and feel enough of it mysel f,
to start i nvo l u ntary and uncontrollable tears over my cheeks .
The expl i c i tl y decl ared techniques, means, and goals of the cru
elty vary from tribe to tribe, and from region to regi o n , but the
obj ect i s al ways the same : the indi vidual must be made to suffer. I
myself have described elsewhere4 the i n i tiation o f G u ayaki young
peopl e, whose backs are furrowed over the i r entire surface . The
pai n al ways

f'nrls u p b e i ng u n be;lrab!e:

keepi ng si l ent dl the whi l e ,

the i ndividual being tortured l oses consc iousness . Among the cele
brated M baya-G uayc u r u o f the Paraguayan Chaco , the young m e n
o l d enough to be ad m i tted i n to t h e warri ors' ranks a l so h a d t o g o
t h rough t h e ordeal o f s u fTering. W i t h t h e a i d o f a sharpened j aguar
bone, t h e i r p e n i s e s and o t h e r parts of the body were p i erced
through . There too, s i l e nce was the price exacted by the i n i tiation .
Thc e x a m p l es could be m u l ti pl ied e n d l essl y and they wou l d
a l l tel l u s one and the same t h i ng : i n pri m i t i ve soc i e t i e s , torture i s
the essence o f t h e i n i tiation ri tual . B u t i s n o t t h i s c ru e l ty i n tl i cted
on the bod y a i m ed sol e l y at m easu ring the you ng peo p l e 's capacity
for physical resi stanc e , at reassuri ng the soc i ety as to the (j u a l i t y
o f i ts m e m bers ? Wou l d not t h e pu rpose of torture i n t h e ri te b e
m e re l y to fu rn i s h t h e occasion to demon strate individual Il'orth ?
Cat l i n e x p resses t h i s c l assic v i ew p o i n t q u i te wel l :
I h ave al read y given enough o f t h ese shock i ng and d i sg u s t i ng
i n stances to c o n v i nce the worl d of the establ i s h e d b e t of the
I nd i an's superior stoicism and power of end urance . . . . I am read y
4.

Pierre Clastres.

Chronhillc des ITuJicns GU1yuki,

Paris, Pion .

1972.

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S OC I E T I E S

to accord them i n this particular, the palm . . . . M y heart has sick

e n e d a l s o w i th d i sgust for so abom inable and ignorant a cus
tom , a n d s t i l l I stand ready w i th a l l m y heart, to e x c u s e and
forgi ve them for adhering so strictly to an ancient celebration . . . .
I f o n e l ets i t go at that, however, one i s bound to m i s take the

function of the suffering, grant it far too l i ttle signi ficance , and over
l o o k i t s use by the tri b e to teach the i n d i v idual s o m e th i ng .
V.

lorture and memory

The i n i ti ators make certain that the i n te n s i ty o f the s u fferi ng is

pushed t o i t s h ighest point. Among the G u ayak i , for i n s tanc e , a
bam b o o k n i fe wou l d be more than s u ffi c i e n t to s l i c e into the s k i n
o f the i n i t i ates .

But it would not be sufficien tly painful. Consequently,

a s t o n e m u s t be used , with someth i ng of an edge, b u t n o t too

sharp , a stone that tears i nstead o f cutting. So a man w i th a prac
ticed eye goes o ff to e x plore certa i n stream b e d s where these tor
turing s t o n e s are found.
G e o rge Catl i n notes, among the Mandan , the same preoccupa
tion w i th the i n te n s i ty of sufferi ng :
A n i nc h or more of the flesh on each shoulder, or each breast was
take n up between the thumb and fi nger by the man who h e l d
t h e k n i fe i n h i s right hand; and t h e knife , which h a d been ground
sharp o n both edge s , and then hacked and n o tched w i t h t h e
b l a d e o f another, to make i t produce as m u c h pain a s possible . . . .
A n d , l i ke the Guayaki scari fi er, the Mandan shaman shows not
the l e a s t amount o f c ompassi o n :
W h e n h e i s , by turning, gradual l y brought to th i s c o n d i t i o n ,
there i s a c l o s e scrutiny passed upon h i m a m o ng h i s tormen-

SOCI E T Y

A G A I NST

T H E ST A T E

tors, who are checking and holding each o ther back as l o ng as

the l east strugg l i ng or tremor can be d iscovered, lest h e shou l d
be removed before he is ( a s they term it) "entirely dead."
Precisely insofar as the i n itiation i s - u ndeniably - a test of per
sonal courage , thi s courage i s expressed ( i n a manner of speaking )
by silence i n the face of suffering. But after the ini tiati on, when
all the suffering i s already forgotten, something remain s , an i rrevo
cable surp l u s , the traces l e ft on the body by the wielding of the
k n i fe or sto n e , the scars o f the wounds receive d . An i n i tiated man
is a marked m a n . The purpose of the i n i tiatio n , in i t s torturi ng
phase, is to mark the body: i n the i n i ti atory ri te, sociev imprin ts its
mark on the body o f the young people. Now, a scar, a trac e , a mark
are i n e ffaceab l e . I nscribed i n the deepest layer of the sk i n , they
w i l l al ways testi fy, as a perpetual w i tness, that while the pain may
be no l onger anythi ng but a bad memory, it was nonetheless expe
rienced in fear and tremb l i ng . The mark is a h i ndrance to forget
ting; the body i ts e l f bears the memory traces i m pri nted on i t ; the

hody is a memory.
For, what is wanted is not to l ose the memory of the secret
i m parted by the tri b e , the m e mory of that knowl edge henceforth
held i n tru s t by the young i n i tiates. What does the young Guayak i
h u n ter, the yo ung Mandan warri or, now know ? The mark i s a s u re
sign o f t h e i r members h i p i n the gro u p . " You are one of us, and
you w i l l n o t /cHge t i t ." Martin Dobri zhofer' is at a l oss fo r word s
to describe the rites uf the A b i pones, w h o cru e l l y tattoo the f:1C CS
of the you ng women at the time o f their fi rst menstruati on. And
to one o f them who cannot keep fro m groan ing from the etc h i ng

5 . "v\.

D o b r i z h o fl.r,

l lis"',;" de los :l h;l'ones,

d e I l u lll a n i d a d e s , R e s i s l e n c i a ( C haco ) ,

U n i versidJd Nacional del Nordeste, Fac u l tad

1 9 67, 3

vol s .

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S O C I E T I E S

o f t h e thorn nee d l e s , this i s what the o l d woman who i s torturi ng

her s h o u t s :
E n o ugh o f you r insolence! You are n o t d e a r to o u r rac e ! Mon
ster fo r whom a little tickli ng o f the thorn becomes u n bear
a bl e ! Maybe you do not know that you are of the race of those
who bear wounds and are counted among the victors? You appear
s o ft e r than c o t t o n . There is no doubt that you w i l l die a n o l d
m ai d . Wil l o n e o f our heros j udge you worthy of u n i t i ng w i th
h i m , frighten e d one?
A n d I recall h ow, one day i n 1963, the G u ayaki satisfied them
selves as t o the true "nationali ty" o f a you ng Paragu ayan woman :
after p u l l i ng o ff h e r c l o thes, they d i scovered the tribal tattoos o n
h e r a rm s . T h e whites had captured her d u ri ng her c h i l d h oo d .
T h u s t h e re a r e t w o o bv i o u s fu n c t i o n s o f i n i t i a t i o n a s t h e
i n scri p t i o n of marks o n the body: measuring personal endurance ,
a n d g i v i ng n o t i c e o f members h i p . B u t i s t h i s reall y a l l that the
m em o ry acquired i n pain has to retain ? Is it tru l y necessary for
o n e to go t h rQugh torture in order to always remember the valu e
o f t h e e g o a n d maintain tribal , ethnic , or nati o nal c o n s c i o u s n e s s ?
W here i s the s e c r e t transmit te d ; where i s the knowle dge reveale d ?
VI .

Memorv
and the law
/

T h e i n i t i atory r i t ual i s a pedagogy that passe s fro m the group to

the i n d i v i dual , fro m the tribe to the young peopl e . An assertive
p e d agogy, and n o t a dialogue : hence the i n itiates must remain silent
u n d e r the torture . S i lence gives consent. To what d o t h e young
people c o n se n t ? They consent to accept t h e mselves for what they
are fro m t h a t t i m e forward: ful l members of the community. No th

ing more, nothing less.

And they are i rreversibly m arked as such . Thi s ,

t h en , i s t h e secret that the group reveals t o t h e you ng people i n

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

S TAT E

the i n i t i a t i o n : " You are one o f u s . Each one of you i s l i ke u s ; each

o n e of you i s l ike the others . You are cal l e d by the same nam e ,
a n d you w i l l n o t change your name . Each o n e o f you occupies t h e
same space a n d t h e same place among u s : you w i l l keep the m .
N o n e o f y o u i s l ess than u s ; n o n e o f you i s more than us.

will never be able to forget it.

And you

You w i l l not cease to remember t h e

s a m e m a r k s t h a t w e have l e ft o n y o u r bodies."
I n other word s , society dictates its laws to its members . I t i nscribes
t h e tex t o f t h e l aw o n the s u r face o f their bo d i e s . N o o n e i s
supposed t o forget the l aw o n which the social l i fe o f the tri b e
i s based .
In the s i x teenth century, the first chroniclers described the B ra
z i l ian I n dians a s people w i t h o u t fai t h , king or l aw. 1 0 b e sure ,
those tribes had no k n owledge of the harsh , separate l aw, the l aw
that imposes the power o f the few on all others in a d i v i d e d soci
ety. That i s a law - the k ing's l aw, the law of the State - o f w h i c h
t h e Mandan and t h e Guaycuru , t h e Guayaki a n d t h e Abipones know
nothing. The law they come to know in pain is the l aw of pri m i
t i v e soc i ety, w h i c h says to everyo n e :

You are worth no more than an,V

one else; you are worth no less than anyone else. The law, inscribed o n
bodies, ex presses pri m i tive soci ety's refusal t o run the risk o f d i v i
s i o n , the risk o f a power separate from s o c i e t y i tsel f,

would escape its control.

a power tha t

Primi tive l aw, cruel l y taug h t , i s a p ro h i b i

tion o f inequal i ty that e a c h p e rson will re me mber. B e i ng the very

substance o f the grou p , pri m i t i ve law becomes the substance of
the i n d i v i d ual , a personal w i l l i ngness to ful fi l l the l aw. L e t us l i s
ten once more to the wo rds o f George Catl i n :
But there was o n e p o o r fel l ow though , w h o was dragged around
and around the c i rc l e , w i th the skull of an elk hangi ng to t h e
fl e s h o n one o f h i s l eg s - several h a d j u mped u p o n i t , b u t t o n o
e ffe c t , fo r t h e s p l i n t was u n d e r t h e sinew, which c o u l d not b e
1 86

O F

TO R T U R E

I N

P R I M I T I V E

S O C I E T I E S

broke n . The d raggi ng became every i n stant more and m o re furi

ous, and the apprehensions for the poor fel l ow 's l i fe , apparent
by the p i teous howl which was s e t up for h i m b y the m u l t i tu d e
aro u n d ; a n d at last t h e m e d i c i n e m a n ran , w i t h h i s m e d i c i n e
p i p e i n h i s h and , and held them in check , w h e n t h e b o d y was
d ro p p e d , and l e ft upon the ground , w i t h the skull yet hang i ng
to i t . The boy, w h o was a n extremely i nteresting a n d fine-looki ng
youth , soon recovered h i s senses and h i s strength, looking d e l i b
erat e l y at h i s t o r n a n d bleeding l i mb s ; and a l s o w i t h the m o s t
pl easant smile o f defiance, u p o n the m i s fortune which h a d now
fal l e n to his pecu l i ar l o t , crawled through the crowd ( i nstead
o f walking, w h i c h they are never agai n a t l iberty to do until the
tl e s h i s torn o u t , and the artic l e l e ft ) to t h e prairie , and over
w h i c h , for a d i stance of half a m i l e , to a sequestered s p o t , w i th
out a n y attendan t , where h e laid three d a y s and three nigh t s ,
ye t l o nger, w i thout food , and pray i ng to the Great Spiri t , u nt i l
s u p p u ration took p l ace i n t h e wound , and by the d e c ay i ng o f
t h e fl e s h t h e weight was dropped , and the s p l i n t al s o , w h i c h h e
dare n o t extricate i n another way. A t t h e e n d o f t h i s , h e craw l ed
back to the v i l l age on h i s hands and knees , b e i ng too m u c h
emaciated to walk , a n d begged for something t o e a t , which was
at once g i ve n to h i m , and h e was soon restored to heal t h .
W h a t force pro p e l l e d t h e young Mandan? Certainly n o t s o m e
maso c h i s t i c i m p u l s e , but rather the d e s i re to b e fai t h fu l to t h e
l aw, t h e w i l l to b e n e i ther m o r e nor l e s s than t h e e q u a l o f t h e
o t h e r i n i t iates .
I began by say i ng that all law is written. I Iere we see a rec o n s t i
t u ti o n , i n a s e n s e , o f t h e tri p l e a l l i ance al ready d i scerned : the
b o d y, w r i t i ng, and t h e law. The scars traced o n the body are the
i n s c ri b e d text o f p ri m itive l aw ; i n that sense , t h ey are

the body.

writing on

As the authors of L 'Anti-Oedipe h ave s o forcefu l l y argued ,

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

STAT E

p ri m i ti ve s o c i e t i e s are fi rs t of a l l soci etes that

mark .

And to that

e x t e n t , they are in fac t s o c i e t i e s without w ri t i ng; b u t what th i s

state m e n t m eans pri mari l y i s that w r i t i ng p o i n t s t o t h e e x i s tence
of a separate, d istant, despotic law of the State , such as Martchenko's
fel l ow p r i s o ners w r i te on the i r b o d i e s . And one cannot e m pha
size too strongly t h e tac t that it i s prec i sely i n ord e r to e x orc i s e
t h e p o s si b i l i t y o f t h a t k i n d o f l aw - t h e l aw that e s t ab l i s h e s a n d
guaran tees i n e q u a l i t y - that p ri m i ti ve law fu nctions as i t d o e s ; i t
stan d s o p p o s e d to the l a w o f the State . Archaic soci e t i e s , soc i e
t i e s of t h e mark , arc soc i et i e s w i t h o u t a State , societies aWlinst the
Sto te. The m ark o n the b o d y, o n a l l b o d i e s a l i k e , declare s : You II ill
not hare the desire for power; you will not hare the desire for subIllission .
A n d that n o n-se parate l aw can o n l y h ave for i t s i nscri p t i o n a space
that is n o t s e parate : that space i s the b o d y i tsel f.
I t i s pro o f of the i r ad m i ra b l e d e pth o f m i n d t h a t the Sanges
k n ew all t h a t

ahead of time,

and took care , a t t h e c o s t o f a t e rr i b l e

c ru e l ty, to p reve n t the ad v e n t o f a m ore terri t' i ng c r u e l t y :

written on the body is an unforgetta ble memov.

the /U I I '

Society Against the

State

P ri m i t i ve s o c i e t i e s a r e s o c i e t i e s w i th o u t a S t a t e . T h i s f1C t u a l
j udgm e n t , accurate i n i t s e l f, actual l y h i d e s an o p i n i o n , a val u e
j u dg m e n t that i m m e d iate l y throws d o u b t on t h e p o s s i b i l i ty o f
cons t i t u t i ng p o l i ti c a l anthropology as a stri c t s c i e n c e . What t h e
s t a t e m e n t s ay s , i n fac t , i s t h a t p r i m i t i v e s o c i e t i e s are m i s s i ng
s o m e t h i ng - the State - that i s essential to the m , as i t i s to any
o t h e r s o c i et y : o u r own , fo r instan c e . Conseq u e n t l y, those soci e
ties are

civilized

incomplete ;
-

ence o f a

t h ey arc n o t q u i t e t r u e s o c i e t i e s - t h e y a r c n o t

t h e i r e x i stence c o n t i n u e s to s u ffer the p a i n fu l e x peri

lack

- the lack of a State - which, try a s they may, they

w i l l nevcr make u p . W h e ther c l earl y stated or n o t , that i s w h a t

comes through in the e x p lorers' chronicles and the work of research
ers a l i k e : s o c i e t y is i nconceivab l e w i th o u t the State ; the State i s
t h e d e s t i ny o f every socie ty. One detects an e t h n o c e n tric b i a s i n
t h i s a p p roach ; m o re o ften than not i t i s u n c o n sc i o u s , and s o t h e
more firml y anchore d . I ts immediate, spontaneous reference , whil e
perhaps n o t the best know n , is i n any case the m o s t fam i l i ar. I n
e ffe c t , each one o f u s carries vv i thin h i m s e l f, i n tern a l i z ed l i k e t h e
beli ever's fait h , the certitude that society e x i s t s fix the State . How,
the n , c a n o n e c o n c e i ve o f the very e x i stence o f p r i m i tive s o c i e
t i e s i f n o t as the rej ects o f universal h i story, anachro n i s t i c rel i c s o f

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N S T

T H E

STAT E

a r e m o t e s t age that everyw h e re e l s e has been tran s c e n d ed ? H ere

one recogn i z e s e t h n o c e n tri s m 's other fac e , the c o m p l e m e n tarv
c o n v i c t i o n that h i s to r y is a o n e - way progressi o n , that every s o c i
e t y i s c o n d e m n e d to e n t e r i n t o t h a t h i story and p a s s through t h e
stages w h i c h l e a d fro m savagery to c i v i l i zati o n . "Al l c i v i l i ze d p e o
p l e s w e r e o n c e savage s , " w ro t e Raynal . B u t t h e asserti o n o f an
obv i o u s evo l u tion can n o t j u s t i fy a doctrine which , arh i trari l y tying
the state o f c i v i l i za t i o n t o t h e c i v i l i z a t i o n of the State , d e signates
the latter as t h e n e c e s sary end res u l t assigned to all s o c i e t i e s . O n e
m a y ask what has kept t h e l a s t o f the pri m i tive peop l e s as they are .
I n rea l i t y, t h e s a m e o l d evo l u t i on i s m remains i n tact beneath

t h e Dl o d e rn formulati o n s . 1\1 o rc subtle \-vhen coucheJ i n t h e l d l l gu age o f a n t h ro p o l og y i n stead o f p h i l o s o phy, i t i s o n a h\'cl w i t h

o t h e r categori e s w h i c h clai m t o b e s c i e n t i fi c . I t has al read y b e e n
re m a r k e d t h a t a rc h a i c s oc i e t i e s are a l m ost al ways c l assed n ega
t i ve l y, u n d e r the h e a d i n g o f l ack : soc i e t i es w i t h o u t a S t a t e , soc i e
t i e s w i t h o u t w ri t i ng , s o c i e t i e s w i th o u t h i sto ry. T h e c l a s s i ng o f
t h e s e s oc i e t i e s o n t h e e c o n o m i c p l a n e a p pears to b e o f t h e s a m e
o rd e r : s oc i e t i e s w i t h a s u b s i s t e n c e e c o n o my. I f o n e m e a n s by t h i s
t h a t p ri m i tive soci e t i e s are u nacqua i n te d w i t h a market e c o n o m y
to w h i c h s u r p l u s p ro d u c t s fl ow, s t ri c t l y s p ea k i ng o n e s a y s n o t h
i ng . O n e i s c o n t e n t to o b s e rve a n a d d i t i o n a l l a c k and c o n t i n u e s to
u s e o u r own worl d as t h e rc fl' r e n c e po i n t : t h o s e soc i e t i es w i t h o u t
a S t a t e , w i t h o u t w ri t i ng , w i t h o u t h i s t o ry a rc a l so w i th o u t a m a r
ket. But - c o m m o n sense m ay object - what good is a market when
n o s u rpl u s e x i s t s ? Now, t h e n o t i o n ofa s u h s i stence e c o n o m y con
ceals w i t h i n i t the i m p l i c i t assu m p t i o n t h a t i f pri m i t ive s o c i e t i e s
d o n o t p ro d u c e a s u rpl u s , t h i s i s because t h ey arc i n c a p a b l e o f
d o i ng s o , e n t i re l y a b s o rb e d a s t h ey a re i n prod u c i ng t h e m i n i m u m
n e c e s sa r y tt) r s u r v i val , It)r s u b s i s t e n c e . The ti me-tested and ever
serviceabl e i m age o f the d e s ti t u t i o n o f the Savages . And , to e x pl a i n
that i nabi l i t y o f p r i m i t i ve s o c i et i e s to t e a r t h e m selves away fro m

S OC I E T Y

A G A IN S T

T H E

STAT E

t h e s t ag n a t i o n o f l i v i ng hand to mouth , fro m p e r p e t u a l ali enati o n

i n the search for foo d , i t i s said they a r e technically u n d e r-e q u i p ped ,
t e c h n o l ogical! y i n feri o r.
What i s the real i t y ? I f one u n d e rstand s by t e c h n i c s the set o f
proce d u res men acquire not to ensure the absolute mastery of nature
( that o b tains only for our worl d and its i n sane Cart e s i an p roj e c t ,
w h o s e ecological consequences are just b eginning to b e measure d ) ,
b u t t o e n s ure a mastery of the natural environ m e n t

tive to their needs,

suited and rela

then there i s no l o nger any reason whatever to

i m p u t e a technical i n feriority to pri m i t i ve soc i e ti e s : they d e m on

s t rate a n abi l i ty to satisfy t h e i r needs which i s a t l east e q u al t o
that o f which industrial and technological society i s s o proud . What
t h i s m eans i s that every human gro u p manages , p e r fo r c e , t o e x e r
c i se t h e n e cessary m i n i m u m of d o m i nati on over the e n v i r o n m e n t
i t i n hab i t s . Up to the present w e k n o w o f no soci ety t h a t h a s o c c u
p i ed a n atural space i mpossi b l e to master, e x c e p t for reaso n s o f
fo r c e o r v i o l e n c e : e i ther i t d i sappears , or i t changes territori e s .
T h e a s t o n i shing thi ng about t h e Eski m o , or the A u stral i an s , i s pre
c i s e l y t h e d i versi ty, i magi n a t i o n , and fine quali ty of t h e i r t e c h n i
c a l a c t i v i ty, t h e p o w e r of i nvention and e ffi c i ency evi d e n t i n the
t o o l s u s ed by those p e o p l e s . F u rthermo r e , o n e o n l y has to spend a
l i tt l e t i m e i n an ethnograp h i c muse u m : the q u al i ty o f work m an
s h i p d i s p l ayed in manufac t u r i ng the i m p l e m e n t s o f everyday l i fe
m a k e s n earl y every h u m b l e tool i n t o a work of art. H e n c e there i s
n o h i e rarchy i n t h e technical d o m ai n ; there i s n o s u p eri o r o r i n fe
rior technology. The only measure of how well a society is eCjui pped
in t e c h n o l ogy is its ab i l i ty to meet its n e e d s in a g i v e n e n v i r o n
m e n t . A n d from thi s p o i n t o f v i ew, i t d o e s n o t appear i n the l east
that p r i m i ti ve societies prove i ncapab l e of prov i d i ng them s e l v e s
w i th t h e m e a n s t o ach i eve that end . Of cours e , the power o f tech
nical i n novati on shown by p r i m i tive societies spreads over a p e r
i o d o f t i m e . Nothing is i m me d i at e l y g iven ; there i s al ways the

SOC I E T Y

A G A I NS T

T H E ST A T E

ductive ac tivities. Take the case of the South American tribes who
prac ticed agric u l tu r e , the Tupi-Guarani , for example , whose i d l e
ness was such a source o f i rritati on to the French and the Portu
guese. The economic l i fe o f those I ndians was p r i m aril y based on
agriculture, secondari l y o n hunting, fishing, and gatheri ng. The
same garden plot was used for from fou r to six consecu tive years ,
a fter which i t was aband oned , owing either to the depletion o f
the so i l , or, more likely, to an invasion of the cul tivated space by a
parasitic vegetati on that was d i ffi c u l t to eliminate . The b iggest
part o f the work , pe rformed by the men, consi sted of c l earing the
necessary arca by the slash and burn techn i q u e , u s i ng stonc axes.
T h i s j ob , accom pl i shed

at

t h e end of the rainy seas o n , would keep

the men busy for a m o n th or two. Nearly all the rest o f the agri c u l
tural process - p l a n t i ng , weeding , harvesting - was t h e respon s i
b i l i ty o f the wo m e n , i n kee p i ng w i th t h e sexual d i v i s i o n o f l abor.
T h i s happy con c l u s i o n fo l l ows: the men ( i . e . , one-hal f the popu
lati o n ) worked about two months every fo u r years ! As fo r the
rest o f the t i m e , they rese rved i t for occupati ons e x peri enced not
as pain b u t as p l easure : h u n t i ng and fi s h i ng; enterta i n m e nts and
d ri n k i ng sess i o n s ; and final l y fo r sat i s fy i ng the i r pass ionate l i k i ng
fo r warfare .
Now, these q u a l i tative and i m press i onistic p i eces of i n f()rma
tion find a stri k i ng confi rmation i n recent research - some o f i t
sti l l i n progress - o f a rigorously conclusive natu re, since i t i nvolves
measu ri ng the t i m e spent work i ng i n soc i e t i es w i th a subsi stence
economy. The figures obtai ned , whether they concern nomad hunt
ers o f the K a l ahari Desert, o r A m e r i ndian sedentary agri c u l t u r
ists, reveal a mean apport i o n m e nt o f l es s than fo ur hours dai l y for
ord i nary wo rk t i m e . J . L i zo t , who has been l i v i ng fiJr several years
am ong the Ya n o m a m i I n d ians of the Venezu e l an A mazon reg i o n ,
h a s c h ro n o m etri c a l l y estab l i shed t h a t t h e average length of t i m e
s p e n t work i ng each d ay b y ad u l t s , includin8 all activities, bare l y
1 94

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S TAT E

e x c e e d s three ho u rs . Although I d i d n o t carry o u t s i m i lar mea

s u re m e n t s among the G uayak i , who are n o m ad h u n t e rs o f the
Paraguayan forest, I can afll r m that those I n d ians, women and men,
spent a t l east half the day in a lmost total i d l en e s s since hunting
and c o l lecting took p lace ( b u t not every d ay ) between six a n d
e l even o ' clock i n the morning, o r thereabo u t s . It is p r o b a b l e
that s i m i lar studies conducted among the remai n i ng p r i m i tive
peoples would produ c e anal ogous results, taking e c o l ogical d i f
ferences i nto accoun t .
T h u s we find ourselves at a tar remove from the wretchedness
that s urrounds the i d ea of subsistence economy. Not only i s man
i n p ri m i t ive societies not bound to the animal existence that woul d
d erivc hoom a continual search for the means of s u rvival , b u t t h i s
res u l t i s even bought a t th e p r i c e o f a remarkabl y s h o r t p e r i o d o f
acti' ity. This means that primiti,"c societies have at their d isposal ,
i f t h ey s o desire, all the time necessary to i n c rease the p ro d u c t i o n
0 1 material goo d s . Common sense asks then : why woul d the men

l i v i ng i n those societies want to work and produce more, given

that t h rc e or fou r h ou rs o f peacefu l activity suflke to meet the
n e e d s of the gro u p ? \Vhat good would it d o thc m ? \V h a t p u rp o s e
,vou l d be served by the surp l u s t h u s accum u l at e d? \Nhat would it
b e u s e d f()r? Men work more than their need s req u i re o n l y w h e n
f()rced t o . A n d i t i s j us t that k i nd o f force w h i c h i s absent fi'o m t h e
p ri m i t i ve worl d ; t h e absence o f that external force even d efin e s
the n atu re of primitive soci ety. The term , subsistence cconom y,
i s acc e p table f()f describing the economic o rganization o f those
societie s , provided it is taken to mean not the necessi ty that d erives
from a jack, an i ncapaci ty inherent i n that type o f society and i t s
technology; b u t t h e contrary: the refusal o f a u s e l e s s excess, t h e
d eterm i nation to make productive activity agree w i th the satis
fac t i o n o f need s . A n d nothing more. Moreover, a closer l ook at
th i ngs w i l l show there i s actually the prod uction o f a s u r p l u s i n

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pri m i ti v e s o c i e t i e s : t h e q u a n t i t y of c u l tivated p l a n t s produced

( manioc , maize, tobac c o , a n d so o n ) alway s e xceeds what i s nec
essary for t h e gro u p 's c o n s u m p t i o n , i t b e i ng u nderstood that th i s
production over and ahove i s i n c luded i n the usual time spent work
ing. That s u rp l u s , obtained w i th o u t surp l u s l abor, is consumed ,
consum m a t e d , for p o l i ti ca l p u rposes properly so c a l l e d , on ks
ti ve occas i o n s , when i n v i tations are e xtend e d , duri ng v i s i ts by out
siders, and s o forth .
The advantage of a m e tal ax over a s t o n e ax is too obvi o u s to
requ i re much d i sc u ss i o n : o n e can do perhaps ten t i m e s a s m u c h
work w i t h t h e fi rst in t h e s a m e a m o u n t o f t i m e as w i th the sec
o n d ; or e l s e , c o m p l ete the sam e am o u n t o f work i n one-tenth the
t i m e . And when the I nd i a n s d i s c overed the produc t i ve s u perior
i ty of the w h i t e m e n's a x e s , they wanted them n o t i n order to
prod uce more i n the same amount of time, b u t to produce as much
i n a peri od o f ti m e ten times shorter. E xactl y th e opposi te occurred .
fo r, with t h e m e t a l a x c s , the v i o l e n c e , t h e fo rc e , the power w h i c h
the c i v i l i ze d n ew c o m e rs broug h t t o bear o n t h e Savages c reated
havoc in t h e p ri m i t i ve I n d i a n worl d .
P ri m i t i v e s o c i e t i e s are , a s L i zot w r i t e s w i t h regard t o t h e
Yan o ma m i , soc i e t i es c ha racterized by t h e rej e c t i o n o f work : "The
Yanomam i s ' c o n t e m p t f() r work and t h e i r d i s i nt ere s t i n t e c h n o
l ogi cal progress p e r s e a re beyo n d q u e s t i o n ." I The fI rst l e i s ur e soc i
e t i e s , the fi rst a m u e n t s o c i e t i e s , accord i ng t o M . Sa h l i n's a p t and
p l ay fu l e x press i o n .
I f the proj ect of estab l i s h i ng an eco n o m i c a n t h ropo l ogy of pri m i
t i v e soc i e t i e s as a n i n d e p e n d e n t d i sc i pl i n e i s t o have a n y mean i ng .
the latter c a n n o t d e r i v e m e re l y fro m a scru t i n y o f t h e e c o n o m i c
l i fe o f t h o s e s oc i e t i e s : o n e wo u l d re m a i n w i t h i n t h e c o n fi n es of

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an ethnology o f description, the description of a non-a utonomous

d imension of primi tive social l i fe . Rather, it i s when that d imen
sion of the "total social fact" i s constituted as an autonomous sphere
that the notion of an economic anthropology appears j ustified :
when the refusal of work d isappears , when the taste for acc u mu
lati o n replaces the sense of 1 eisure; i n a word , when the e xternal
force m entioned above makes i ts appearance i n the social body.
That force without which the Savages would never surrender their
leisure , that force which destroys society insofar as i t i s primitive
societ y, is the power to compel ; i t is the power o f coerc i o n ; i t i s
political power. B u t economic anthropology i s invalidated i n any
case ; in a sense, it loses its obj ect at the very moment it thinks it
has grasped it: the economy becomes a political economy .
For man in primitive societies, the activity o f production is m ea
sured p recisely, delim ited by the needs to be satisfied , it being
understood that what is essentially i nvolved i s energy need s : pro
duction is restricted to replenishing the stock of energy expended.
I n other words, i t i s l i fe as nature that - excepting the production
of good s socially consumed o n festive occasi ons - establishes and
determines the quantity of time devoted to reproductio n . This
means that once its needs are ful l y satisfied nothing could induce
pri mitive society to produce more, that i s , to ali enate its time by
working for no good reason when that time is avail able for idleness,
pl ay, warfare , or festivities. What are the conditions under which
this relationship between prim i tive man and the activity of produc
tion can change? Under what conditions can that activity be assigned
a goal o ther than the satisfaction of energy n ee d s ? This amounts
to rais i ng the question of the origin of work as alienated labor.
I n p ri m i tive society - an essentially egali tarian society - men
control their activity, control the circulation o f the products of
that activity: they act only o n their own behal f, even though the
l aw o f exchange mediates the d i rect relation o f man to his prod1 97

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u c t . Every t h i ng i s thrown i n t o confu s i o n , therefore , when the

activity o f production i s diverted from its initial goal , when , instead
of p roducing only for himself, p ri m i tive man also produces for
o thers , without exchange and without reciprocity. That i s the point at
which it becomes possible to s peak of labor: when the egali tarian
rule of exchange ceases to constitute the "civil code" of the soci
ety, when the activ i ty of production i s aimed at satisfying the needs
o f others , when the order of exchange gives way to the terror of
debt . It is there , in fac t, that the d i fference between the Amazonian
Savage and the I ndian of the I nca empire i s to be placed. All things
consi d ered , the first produces in order to live, whereas the sec
ond works i n ad di ti on so that others can l i ve , those who do not
work , the masters who tell him: you must pay what you owe u s ,
you must perpetually repay you r debt to u s .
When , i n pri m i t i ve soc i e ty, the econom i c d ynam i c l ends i tsel f
to d e fi n i t i o n as a d i s t i n c t and a u t o n o m o u s dom a i n , when th e
acti v i ty o f prod u c t i o n b e c om e s ali enate d , accou n tab le labor, l ev
i ed by men who will enj oy the fru its of that labor, what has come
to pass is that s oc i e ty has been d i v i ded i n to ru lers and ruled , mas
ters and s ubj ec t s - it has ceased to e x o rc i se the t h i ng that w i l l be
i ts ru i n : powe r and the respect for power. Soc iety's maj o r d i v i
s i o n , the d i v i s i o n t h a t i s the bas i s for a l l th e others, i n c l u d i ng no
d o u b t the d i v i s i o n of labor, is the new vertical ord e ring o f things
between a base and a s u m m i t ; i t i s the great pol i t i cal c l eavage
between those w h o h o l d the f() rce , be it m i l i tary

or

re l ig i o u s , a n d

those subj ect to t h a t force . The p o l i tical re lation o f power pre

cedes and fo u n d s the econo m i c re lation o f e x p l o i t a t i o n . A l i e n
atio n is p o l i t i c a l b c f()re it is econo m i c ; power prec e d e s l abor; the
econom i c d e rives fro m th e po l i t i ca l ; the e m e rge n c e o f the State
d e term i n e s t h e advent o f c l asse s .
I ncom p l e t i o n , u n fu l fi l l ment, lack : the natu re of pri m i tive soc i
eties i s n o t to b e s ou gh t i n that d i recti o n . Rather, i t asserts i tse l f

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as p o s i tivity, as a mastery of the natural mil ieu and the social project;
as the sovereign w i l l to let noth i ng s l i p outs i d e its b e i ng that might
alter, c o rrupt, and destroy it. This is what needs to be fi rm l y graspe d :
p r i m i tive soci e t i e s a r e not overdue embryos o f s u b s e q u e n t s o c i e
t i e s , s o c i a l bod i e s whose "normal " deve l o p m e n t was arre sted by
s o m e s t range malady; they a r e n o t s i tuated at the c o m m e n c e m e n t
o f a h i s to r ical l o g i c l e ad i ng straight to an e n d given ahead of t i m e ,
b u t recognized o n l y a posteriori as our own s o c i al syste m . ( I f hi s
tory i s that l og i c , how is i t that pri m i t i ve s o c i e t i e s sti l l e x i s t ? ) A l l
t h e fo regoing i s e xpressed , a t the level o f e c o n o m i c l i fe , b y the
refu s a l o f pri m i tive s o c i e t i e s to a l l ow work and p ro d u c t i o n t o
eng u l f t h e m ; by the d e c i s i o n to restric t suppl i e s to s o c i o - po l i ti c a l
n e e d s ; b y t h e intrinsic i m p o s si b i l i ty o f c o m p e t i t i o n ( i n a p ri m i
t i v e s o c i ety what wou l d b e t h e u s e o f being a ric h m a n i n t h e
m i d s t o f poor m e n ? ) ; i n short, by the proh i b i ti o n - u n s tated b u t
s a i d n o n etheless - o f i n eq u a l i ty.
W h y i s t h e e c o n o m y i n a p r i m i t i ve s o c i e ty n o t a p o l i t i c a l
e c o n o m y ? T h i s i s d u e t o t h e evident fact that i n p ri m i ti v e s o c i e
t i e s the economy i s n o t autonomou s . I t might be s a i d that i n t h i s
s e n s e p ri m i tive societies are societies w i thout an economy,

thev refuse an economy.

beca use

B u t , i n t h a t case , m u s t o n e aga i n d e fi n e the

p o l i ti ca l i n these societies i n terms o f an absence ? M u s t i t b e

s u p pp o s e d that , since w e a r e d e a l i ng w i t h " l aw l e s s a n d k i ng l e s s "
s o c i e t i e s , they l ack a fi eld o f p o l i tical acti v i t y ? And woul d w e n o t ,
i n that w ay, fal l i n to the c l a s s i c rut o f an ethnocen tri s m for w h i c h
"l ack" i s the salient feature at a l l l evels of societies that are d i ffe rent?
Let us d iscu s s , then , the q u e s t i o n of the p o l i t i c a l d i m e n s i o n i n
p r i m i t i v e soci e t i e s . I t i s n o t s i m p l y a m atter o f an " i n teresting"
p ro b l e m , a subj ect to be pond ered by spec i a l i sts a l on e . For, i n
t h i s i n s ta n c e , eth n o l ogy woul d have to b e b r o a d e nough i n s c o p e
to meet the requirements o f a general theory ( yet to be constructe d )
of society and h istory. The e xtraordi nary diversity of types of social
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organizati o n , t h e profusion, i n time and space , o f dissimilar soci

eties, d o n o t , h owever, prevent the possibility of discovering an
order within the discontinuou s , the possibility of a reduction of
that infinite mul tiplicity ofdiflerences. A massive reduction, seeing
that history aflc>rCls us in fact only two types o f society utterly irre
ducible to one another, two macro-classes , each one o f which
encompasses societies that have something basic i n common, not
wi thstand i ng their differences. On the one hand, there are primitive

societies, or societies without a State; on the other hand, there are societies
with a State. I t is the presence or absence of the State apparatus
( capah l e of assuming many forms ) that assigns every society its
logical place, and lays down an irreversi ble line of d i scontinuity
between the two types of society. The em ergence of the State
brought about the great typological division between Savage and
Civil ized man ; it c reated the u nbri dgeable gulf whereby every
thing was changed , for, on the other side, Ti me became H i story.
I t has often heen remarked , and righ tly s o , that the movement 01
world history was radically aflccted by two accelerations in its
rhyth m . The impetus o f the first was furnished hy what i s termed
the Neoli thic Revolution ( the domestication of animals, agri cul
ture, the d i scovery of the arts o f weaving and pottery, the subse
quent sed e n tarizati o n o f human groups, and so fo rth ) . We are still
liv ing, and increasi ngly so , i f one may put i t that way, within the
pro l ongation of the second accelerati o n , the I ndustrial Revolu
tion of the nin eteenth century.
Obvi o u s l y, there is no doubt that the Neolithic break drasti
cally al tered the conditions of material existence of the formerly
Pal eol ithic peopl es. Rut was that transformation profound enough
to have affected the very being of the societies concerned ? I s i t
possible to say that societies fu nction d i ffe rently accord i ng t o
whether they are pre-Neolithic o r post-Neolithic? There is eth
nographic evidence that poi nts, rather, to the contrary. The tran2 00

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s i ti o n fro m nomadi s m to sedentarization i s held to be the most

sign i fi c an t consequence o f the Neoli th i c Revolu t i o n , i n that i t
m a d e possible - through the concentration of a stabilized popula
t i o n - c ities and , beyond that, t h e formation o f state mach i n e s .
Rut that hypothes i s carries with i t the assumption that every tech
nolog i c al "complex" without agriculture is of necessity consigned
to n o m a d i s m . The i n ference i s ethnographically i nc o rrect : a n
economy of hunting, fishing, a n d gathering does not necessaril y
d em a n d a nomadi c way o f l i fe . There a r e several e x a m p l e s , i n
Americ a and elsewhere, attesting that the absence o f agriculture
is c ompatible with sedentariness. This j ustifies the assumption
that if some peoples d id not acqu i re agriculture even though i t
was e c o l ogical l y feasible, i t was not because they were i ncompe
tent, technologically backward , or cul turall y i n ferior, b u t , m o r e
s i m p l y, because they had no need of i t .
T h e post-Columbian h istory of America offers cases o f p o pu l a
ti on s comprised of sedentary agriculturists who , experiencing the
dkcts o f a technical revolution ( the acqu i s i t ion o f the horse and ,
secondaril y, fi rearms ) elected to abandon agriculture and devote
themselves almost exclusively to hunting, whose yield was mul
t i p l i ed by the tenfo l d increase in mob i l i ty that came from u s i ng
the h o r s e. O n ce they were mounted , the t r i b e s of the P l a i n s o f
North America and those of the Chaco intensified and extended
their m ovements; but thei r nomadism bore l i ttle resemblance to
the d e scriptions generally given of bands of hunters and gatherers
such a s t h e Guayak i of Paraguay, a nd their abandonment o f agri
c u l ture d i d n o t result i n either a demographi c scattering or a trans
form at i on of their previous social organizati o n .
What i s t o be l earned from t h e movement o f t h e greatest num
b e r o f societies from hunting to agriculture, and the reverse move
m e n t , of a few others , from agriculture to hunting? I t appears t o
have been aflected w ithout changing the nature o f those societies
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i n any way. I t wou l d appear that where their conditi ons of mate
rial existence were all that changed , they remained as they were ;
that the N e o l i t h i c Revo l u ti on - w hi l e i t d i d have a considerable
effect on the material l i fe o f the human groups then existing, doubt
less making l i fe easier for them - did not mechanically bring about
an overturn i ng o f the social order. I n other words , as regards primi
tive soci e t i e s , a transformation a t the l evel o f what Marxists term
the econ o m i c i n frastructure is not necessari l y "reflected" in i t s
coro l lary, the p o l i tical s uperstructure, s i n c e t h e l atter appears t o
be independent o f i ts material base. T h e American continent clearly
i l l u strates t h e i n d ependence o f the economy and s o c i e ty w i t h
respect to one anoth er. Some groups o f hun ters-fishers-gatherers .
be they nomads o r n o t , present the same soci o-poli tical charac
teri s t i c s as t h e i r s e d e n tary agr i c u l t u r i s t n e i g h b o r s : d i ffe rent
"infrastructures ," the sa m e "superstruc ture ." Converse ly, the meso
American s o c i e t i e s - i m perial soc i et i e s , soc i e t i e s w i th a State
de pended on an agri c u l tu re that, although more in tens ive than
el sewhere , n evertheless was very s i m i l ar, from the stand point o f
i ts technical l eve l , t o t h e agri c u l ture o f t h e "savage" tribes of the
Trop i cal Forest; the same " i n frastructure , " d i fferent " s u perstruc
tures , " s i n c e in the one case it was a matter o f soc ieties w i thout a
State, in t h e o t h e r case fu l l -fl edged States.
Hence, it i s the Pol i t i cal break [coupurc] that i s d e c i s i ve , and
not the e c o n o m i c tran sformati o n . The true revo l u t i o n i n man's
proto hi story is not the Neol i t h i c , s i nce it may very w ell l eave the
prev i o u s l y e x i s t i ng soc ial organization i n tac t; it is the poli tical
revolution, that mysterious emergence - irreversible, fatal to pri m i
tive soc i et ies - o f the t h i ng we k n o w b y the name o f the State .
And i f one wants to preserve the Marxist c oncepts o f i n frastruc
ture and superstructure, then perhaps one must acknow l edge that
the i n frastru c t u re is the pol i tical , and the su perstru c t u re i s the
econom i c . Only one structural , cataclysm i c u p heaval i s capable
20 2

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of transforming pri m i tive society, d estroying i t in the proce s s : the

m u tation that causes to ri se up within that society, or from out
side it, the thing whose very absence defines pri m i tive society,
h i erarchical a u t h o ri ty, the power relati o n , the subj ugation of
men - in a word , the State. I t would be quite fu tile to search f()r
the cause o f the event in a hypothetical modification o f the rel a
tions o f production i n primitive society, a modification that, divid
ing society gradually into rich and poor, exploiters and exploited,
wou l d mechanical l y l ead to the establishment of an organ enabling
the former to exerc i se power over the latter; leading, that is, to
the b i rth o f the State.
Not only is such a modi fication of the economic base hypo
thetical , i t is also i mpossible. For the system o f p roduction o f a
given soci ety to c hange in the direction of an intensificat i o n o f
work w i th a view t o producing a greater quantity of good s , either
the m e n l iving in that society must desire the trans formation o f
their mode ofl ife , or else, not desiring it, they must have i t i mposed
on them by e xternal violence. I n the second insta nce, nothing
originates in the society i tself; i t suffers the aggression o fa n e x ter
nal p ower for whose benefi t the productive system w i l l b e modi
fie d : m o re work and more production to sati sfy the needs o f the
new masters of power. Pol i tical oppression determines, begets ,
a l l ow s exploitatio n . But i t serves no purpose to evoke such a " sce
nari o , " since i t posits an e xternal , contingent, immediate origin
o f State violence, and not the slow frui tion o f the internal , socio
economic cond itions of i ts rise.
It i s said that the State i s the instrument that allows the rul ing
class t o bring its violent domi nation to bear o n the dominated
classes. Let u s assume that to be true. For the State to appear,
then , there would have to exist a prior division of societies into
antagonistic social classes, tied to one another by relations o f exploi
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wou l d have to precede the emergence of the State machine. ' Let
me point out, i n passing, the extreme fragility of that purely i nstru
mentali s t theory of the Stat e . I f society is organized by oppressors
who are able t o exploit the oppressed, this i s because that abil i ty
to impose ali enation rests on the use of a certain force , that i s , on
the thing that constitutes the very substance of the State, "the
monopol y o f legitimate physical violence." That being granted,
wh at necessity woul d b e met by the existence of a State , since its
essence - v i o lence - i s inherent i n the division of society, and, i n
that sens e , i t i s a l ready given i n t h e oppression that o n e group
inflicts o n the others? It wou l d b e no more than the useless organ
of a function that is fi l l e d b e forehand and elsewhere.
Tyi ng the emergence of the State machine to a transformation
o f the social structure resul ts merely i n deferring the problem of
that emergence. For then one must ask why the new d i v i sion of
men into ru l ers and ru led within a primi tive society, that i s , an
undivided society, occurred . What motive force was behind that
transformation that c u l m i nated in the formation o f the State? One
might reply that its emergence gave legal sanction to a private
property that had come into e x i stence previ ou sly. Very good . But
why woul d private property spring up in a type of society i n which
i t i s unk nown because i t i s rej ected ? Why wou l d

few members

want to proclaim one d ay : this is mine, and how could the others
a l l ow th e s e e d s o f the t h i ng p ri m i t i ve society knows n o th i ng
about - authori ty, oppression, the State - to take hold? The know l
edge of p ri m i tive societies that w e n o w have no longer perm i ts u s
to l o o k for t h e o rigi n o f the poli ti cal at the level of t h e econo m i c .
That is no t t h e soil i n w h i c h t h e genealogy of t h e State h a s i t s
roots. There i s nothing i n the econom i c work i ng of a pri m i tive
society, a society w i thout a State, that enables a d i flcrence to be
i ntrod uced m ak ing some ri cher or poorer than others , because no
one in such a society feels the quaint desire to do more , own more ,
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or appear to be more than his neighbor. The abi l ity, held by all
cultures alike, to satisfy their material needs , and the exchange o f
goods a n d services , which continually prevents the private accu
mulation ofgoods, quite simply make i t impossible for such a desire
the desire f()r possession that is actually the desire for power - to
develo p . P rimitive society, the first society of abundance, l eaves
no roo m for the desire for overabundance.
Primitive societies are societies without a State because for them
the State i s impossible. And yet all civilized peoples were first
primitives: what made it so that the State ceased to b e impossi
ble? Why did some peoples cease to be primi tive s ? What tremen
dous e vent, what revolution, allowed the figure o f the Despot, of
he who gives orders to those who obey, to emerge ? Where does politi
caJ power come from? Such is the mystery ( perhaps a temporary one )
of the origin.
While i t sti l l does not appear possible to d etermine the condi
tions in which the S tate emerged , it i s possible to specify the con
ditions of its non-emergence; and the texts assembled in this volume
attempt to delineate the space o f the poli tical in societies w i th
out a State. Faithless, lawless, and kingless : these terms used by
the s i xteenth-century West to describe the I nd ians can easily be
ex tended to cover all primitive societi es. They can serve as the
distinguishing criteria: a society is primitive i f i t i s without a k i ng ,
a s t h e l egitimate source of the law, that is, the State machine. Con
versely, every non-primi tive society is a society w i th a State : no
matter what socio-political regime is in effect. That is what per
mits one to consolidate all the great despotisms - k i ngs, emperors
of China or the Andes, pharaoh s - into a single class, along with
the more recent monarchies - "I am the State" - and the contem
porary social system s , whether they possess a liberal capitali s m as
in Western Europe, or a State capitalism such as exists elsewhere . . .
Hence there is no king i n the tribe, but a chief who i s not a
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chief of State . What does that imply? Simply that the chief has no
authority at his d isposal , n o power o f coercion, no means of giv
i ng an order. The chief i s n o t a commander; the people o f the
tribe are under n o obi igation to obey. The space of the chieftainship is
not the locus of power, and the "profile" of the primitive chief in no
way foreshadows that o f a future despot. There is nothing about the
chieftainship that s uggests the State apparatus derived from it.
How i s it that the tribal chief does not prefigure the chief of
State? W hy i s such an anticipation not possible in the world of
Savages? That radical discontinuity - which makes a gradual tran
s i t i o n fro m t h e primi tive c h i e ftai n s h i p to the State machine
unthinkabl e - i s l ogically based in the relation o f exclusion that
places political power outside the chieftainship. What we are deal
ing with is a chief vyithout power, and an institution , the chief
tai n sh i p , that i s a stranger to its essence, which is authori ty. The
function s o f the chief, as they have been analyzed above , are con
vincing proof that the chieftainship does not i nvolve functions of
authori ty. Mai n l y responsihle fllr resolving the confl i cts that can
su rface between i ndividuals, fami l i e s , l i n eages , and so forth , the
chief has to re l y on nothing more than the prestige accorded h i m
b y the society to restore order a n d harmony. B u t prestige does n o t
sign i fy power, certainly, a n d t h e means the chief possesses for per
form i ng his task of peacemaker are limited to the usc of speec h :
not even to arbitrate between t h e contending parties, because the
chief is not a j udge ; but, armed only with his eloquen c e , to try to
persuade the people that i t i s best to calm dow n , stop i n sulting
one anothe r, and e m ul at e the ancestors who a l ways lived together
in harmony. The success of the end eavor i s never guaran teed , flJr
the ch ief 's word carries no force of la w. [ f the effort to persuade shou ld
fai l , the confl ict then risks having a violent outcome, and the chief's
prestige m ay very well be a casualty, since he will have proved h i s
inabil i ty to accom pl i sh what was expected o f h i m .
2 06

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In the estimation of the tri b e , what qual ifi e s such a man to b e

chief? I n the end , i t i s his " technical" competence alo n e : h i s o ra
torical talent, h i s expertise as a hunter, his abi l i ty to coordinate
martial activities, b o th offensive and defensive. And i n n o c i rcum
stance does the tri b e all ow the chief to go b eyond that technical
limit; i t never allows a techn ical superiority to change into a politi
cal authority. The chief i s there to serve society; it i s society as
such - the real locus of power - that exerc ises i ts authority over
the chief. That is why i t i s impossible for the chief to reverse that
relationship for his own ends, to put society in h i s service, to exer
cise what is termed p ower over the tribe: pri m i t i ve society would
n ever tolerate having a chief transform himself i n to a despot.
I n a sense , the trib e keeps the chief under a close watch ; h e i s a
kind o f prisoner i n a space which the tribe does n ot l e t h i m l eave .
But does he have any desire to get out of that spac e ? Does i t ever
happen that a chief desires to b e chief? That he wants to substi
tute the realization o f his own desire for the serv ice and the i nter
est of the group? That the satisfaction of his personal i nterest takes
precedence over his obedience to the collective proj ect? B y v i r
tue of the close supervision to which the l eader's practice, like

tha t of all the others, i s subj ected by society - this supervision result
i ng fro m the nature o f pri m itive societies, and not, of cours e , from
a c o n s c i o us a n d d e l iberate preoccupati o n w i t h surve i l l a n c e
instances of chiefs transgressing primitive law are rare : you are worth

no more than the others. Rare , to be sure, but not unheard o f: i t occa
s ional l y happens that a chief tries to play the chief, and not out of
Machi avell ian motives, but rather because he has n o choice; he
cannot do otherw i s e . Let me explain . As a rule , a chief does not
attempt ( the thought d oe s not even enter h i s m i n d ) to subvert
the normal relationship ( i . e . , i n keeping with the norm s ) he main
tains w i th respect to his group, a subversion that would make him
the master of the tribe instead of i ts servant . The great cacique
2 07

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Alayk i n , the war c h i e f o f a tribe inhabiting the Argentin ian Chaco,

gave a vcry good d e fi n i t i o n o f that normal re l ations h i p i n h i s
repl y to a Spanish o Hlc e r w h o w a s tryi ng t o c om ince h i m t o d rag
h i s tribe into a war it did not wan t: "The Abipones, by a custom
handed down by their ancestors, f() l l ow thei r own b i d d i ng and
not that of their cac i q u e . I am their l eader, but I could not bring
harm to any o f my p e o p l e without bringing harm to myse l f; i f I
were to use orders or force w i th my c o m rades, they wou l d turn
the i r backs o n m e a t onc e . I prefer to be l oved and not feared by
them ." And , let there b e no doubt, most I n d i an chiefs wou l d have
spoken s i m i lar \\'ords.
T here are e x c e p t i o n s , h owt'\Tr, n earl y al ways connected \v i th
warbre .

\Ve

knO\v, i n fac t , that the preparation and conduct of a

m i l i tary e x pe d i t i o n are the only c i rc u m stances i n which the c h i c f

has t h e opport u n i ty to e x e rc i s e a m i n i m u m o f au thori ty, d e r i v i ng
solely tt'om h i s technical competence as a warrior. As soon as thing'i
h ave been c o n c l u d e d , and w ha tcver the outcome of t h e fighting,
the "oar chief agai n bec o m e s a c h i e f w i t h o u t power; i n no case is
the prestige that comes \\Oith \Oictory converted into authori ty. Every
t h i ng h i nges o n j u s t that separat i o n m a i ntai n e d bv the society
bet ween pO\\Oer a n d prestige , behH'C n the fam e of a v i ctorious
warrior and t h e c o m mand that h e i s f(J rb i d d e n to e x c rc i s e . The
I()l] ntain most s u i ted to q u e nc h i ng a warrior's th i rst I() r prest ige is
war. /\t t h e s a m e t i m e , a c h i e f whose prestige i s l i nked with war
fare can p reserve a n d bolster it o n l y in warfa re : it is a k i nd of com
pu l s i o n , a k i nd o f escape i n t o t h e fray, that h a s h i m c o n t i nual l y
\\Oan t i ng to o rga n i z e martial e x pedi tions from w h i c h h e hopes to
obtai n the ( sy m b o l i c ) b e n e fi ts attac h i ng to v i ctory. /\ s long as h i s
d e s i re f<lr war c o rre s p o n d s to the general w i l l of the tribe, par
t i c u l arly that of the you ng m e n , filr whom war i s a l so t h e p r i n c i
p a l means o f acq u i ri ng prestige , as l ong as the w i l l o f the c h i e f
d o c s not go beyond t h a t o f t h e tri b e , t h e c u s to marv r e l a t i o n s

SOCI E T Y

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between the chief and the tribe remain unchanged . B u t the risk o f
a n excessive desire o n t h e part o f t h e c h i e f w i th respect to that o f
t h e tribe a s a whol e , t h e danger to h i m o f going t o o far, o f exceed
i ng the strict l i m i ts allotted to h i s office, i s ever present . Occa
sional l y a chief accepts run n i ng that risk and attempts to put h i s
pers o n al i nterest ahead o f t h e coll ective i nterest. Reversing the
normal relationship that determines the leader as a means in the
serv i c e of a social l y defined e n d , he tri e s t o make soci e ty i n to the
means for achieving a purely private end: the tribe in the service of the

chief and no longer the chief in the service of the tribe. I f i t " wo rked , "
then w e wou l d have fou n d the birthplace o f poli tical p ower, as
force and violence; we wou l d have the fi rst i ncarnatio n , the mini
mal fc)rm of the State . But it never work s .
I n the very fine acc o u n t o f t h e twenty years she s p e n t among
the Yanomam i , 2 Elena Val e ro talks at l e ngth about her fi rst hus
ban d , t h e war leader Fousiwe. H i s story illustrates quite well the
fate o f the primitive chief when, by the force o f circumstances,
h e i s l e d to transgress t h e l a,,, of primitive society; being the tru e
l o c u s o f power, society refuses to let g o of i t , refuses t o d e l egate
it. So Fousiwe i s ackn owledged by his tribe as "chief, " owi ng to
the prestige he has obtained for himself as the organizer and l eader
o f victorious raids against enemy group s . As a resu l t , h e p l a n s and
d i rects wars that his tribe undertakes willingly ; he places h i s tech
n ical c o mpetence as a man o f war, his courage , and h i s dynamism
in the service of the gro u p : h e is the effective instru m e n t o f his
society. But the u n fortunate thing about a primi tive warri or's l i fe
i s that the prestige h e acq uires i n warfare is soon lost i f i t i s not
constantly renewed b y fresh successes . The tribe, for w h o m the
chief i s nothing more than the appropriate tool for i m p l e m e n ting
2.

'
E t t o rc B i occa a n d I le l e n a Valero , Ya naam a , D e n n i s R h o d e s , trans . , New Yo rk . D u t t o n ,

1 970.

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i ts w i l l , eas i l y forgets the c h i e f's past victori es. For h i m , noth i ng

is permanently acquired, and i f he intends to remind people, whose
memory i s apt to fail , o f his fame and prestige, it will not be enough
merely to exalt h i s o l d e x p l o i ts : he will have to create the occa
sion fo r new feats of anns. A warri or has no choice: he i s obliged
to desi re war. It is h e re that the consensus by which he is recog
nized as c h i e f draws i t boundary l i n e . I f h i s desire for war coin
cides w i th society's desire for war, the society continues to follow
h i m . But i f the c h i e f's desire fo r war attempts to fal l back on a
society motivated by the desire for peace - no society allVays wants
to wage war - then the relationsh i p between the c h i e f and the
trihe is reversed ; the leader tries to use society for his individual
a i m , as a means to h i s personal end . Now, it shou ld be kept i n
m i n d t h a t a pri m i tive c h i e f i s a c h i e f wi thou t powe r : h o w cou ld
he i m pose the d i c tates o f h i s desire on a soc i e t y that refused t o b e
d rawn i n ? H e i s a prisoner o f b o t h h i s desire lo r prestige and h i s
powerl essness t o fu l fi l l that desire. What may happen in such sit
uations? The warri o r w i l l be left to go i t a l o n e , to engage in a
dubious batt l e that \\ i l l on l y l ead h i m t o h i s death . T h a t was t h e
fa te o f the S o u t h A m e r i c a n warr i o r F o u s i w e . He s a w h i m s e l f
deserted b y h i s tri b e fo r hav i ng tried t o t h rust on h i s people a war
they d i d n o t want. I t o n l y re mained te) r h i m to wage that war on
h i s ow n , a n d h e d i ed ri d d l ed w i t h arrows . Death is the warri or's
d e s t i ny, f(J r, pri m i tive society is such that it does not pcrmit the desire

F)[ presli[/e to hc replaccd

h I'

the IYill to po wer. Or, in other words, i n

primi tive soc i e t y t h e c h i d', who embodies t h e poss i b i l i ty o f a w i l l

t o powe r, i s con d e m ned t o death in advance. Separate political
power i s i m po ss i b l e i n pri m i ti ve soc i e t y ; there is no roo m , no
vacuum fe)r t h e State to fi l l .
Less trag i c i n i t s con c l u s i on, but very s i m i l ar i n i ts deve l o p
ment, i s the story o f another I nd i an l eader, fiu more renowned
than the obscure A m azonian warri or: I refer to the famous Apache
2 10

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c h i e f Geron i m o . A read i ng of h i s memo i rs 3 proves very i nstruc

t i v e , d e s p i te the rather whi m s i cal fas h i o n i n w h i c h they were s e t
down i n writing . Geronimo was only a young warrio r l ike t h e o thers
w h e n the Mex i c an s o l d i ers attacked his tri b e 's camp and massa
c r e d the women and c h i l d re n , k i l l i ng Gero n i mo's whole fami l y.
T h e vario u s Apache tribes banded togethe r to avenge t h e m u r
d e r s , a n d Geron i m o was com m i ssioned to conduct the battl e . The
r e s u l t was complete success for the Apach e s , w h o w i ped o u t t h e
M e x i ca n garrison . As the mai n arc h i t e c t of the v i c t o ry, G e ro n i m o
e x p e r i e n c e d an i m m ense i n c rease i n his p r e s ti g e as a w a r r i or.
A n d , fro m that m o m e n t , thi ngs changed ; somethi ng o c c u rred i n
Geroni m o ; som e t h i ng was goi ng o n . For, w h i l e the a ffa i r was m o re
or l e s s l a i d to rest by the other Apac h e s , who were c o n t e n t w i th a
v i c t o ry that ful l y sati s fi ed th e i r hunger for vengeanc e , G e r o n i m o ,
o n t h e other han d , d i d not s e e i t that way. He wanted more revenge
on the M e x i cans ; he did not b el i eve that the blood y d e feat o f the
s o l d i ers was suffi c i e n t . But o f course he could n o t go attac k i ng
M e x i c a n v i llages a l l by h i m s e l f, so he tried to persuade h i s p e o p l e
t o s e t o u t agai n o n t h e w a r path . I n v a i n . I t s c o l l e c t i v e goal revenge - hav i ng b e e n reached , the Apache soc i e ty year n e d for
res t . G er o n i mo's goal , the n , was a p e rsonal obj ec t i ve w h i c h h e
h o p e d to acco m p l i sh b y draw i ng i n the trib e . H e attempted t o
turn the tribe i n to the instru m e n t o f h i s d e s i r e , wh ereas b e f() r e ,
by v i rtue of his c o m petence as a warr i o r, he was the tribe's i n stru
m e n t . N a turall y, the Apaches chose n o t to fo l l ow G eron i m o , j u s t
as t h e Yan omami refused to fol l ow F o u s i w e . A t best, the A pache
c h i e f managed to convince ( oc c a s i o n al l y, at the cost o f l i e s ) a few
yo u ng m e n w i th a cravi ng for glory and spo i l s . For one o f these
e x p e d i t i o n s , G e ro n i m o 's hero i c and absurd army c o n s i sted of two
m e n ! The Apac h e s who, owi ng t o the c i rc u m stan c e s , a c c e p t e d
3.

Geronimo: His O ll' n Srorf', S. M. Barre tt,

cd . ,

2J I

New Yo rk, B a l l a n t i n e ,

1 9 70.

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Geroni m o 's l eadership because of h i s figh t i ng s k il l , wou l d regu

l ar l y turn their backs o n him whenever h e wanted to wage his
persona l war. G eron i m o , the l a s t of the great North American war
c h i e fs , who s p e n t thirty years of his l i fe trying to " p l ay the chief, "
a n d never succeeded . . . .
The e s s e n t i a l feature ( that is, relating to the essence ) o f pri m i
t i ve soc i e ty i s i t s e x ercise o f absolute a n d compl ete power over a l l
the e l e m e n t s o f w h i c h i t i s c o m p o s e d ; t h e fac t that i t prevents any
one of the sub-groups that c o n s ti tute it fro m becomi ng autono
mous; that it holds all the i nternal movements - conscious and
unconsci o u s - that m a i n ta i n social l i fe to t h e l i m i ts a n d d i rection

prescribf:'d hy th f' s o c i e t y. One o f the ways ( vi o l e n c e . i f n ecessary,

i s anoth e r ) i n w h i c h s o c i e t y m a n i fe s t s i ts w i l l to preserve that
pri m i tive s o c i a l order is by refusing to a l l ow an i n d i v idual , cen
tral , separate power to ari se . Primi tive society, th e n , is a society
fro m which nothing escapes, which lets nothing get outside itsel f,
fo r all the e x i ts are b l ocked . I t is a society, therefore , that ough t
to repro d u c e i ts e l f perpe t u a l l y w i t h o u t anyth i ng a ffe c t i ng i t
through o u t ti m e .
There i s , however, o n e area that see m s t o escape , a t l east i n
part , soci ety's c ontro l ; the d e m ographic doma i n , a d o m a i n gov
erned by c u l tural r u l e s , but a l s o by natural l a w s ; a space w h e re a
l i fe that i s gro u nded in both the social and the b i o l ogical unfol d s ,
where there i s a "machine" that operates according t o i t s own
m echan i c s , perhaps , w hich would place i t beyond the social grasp .
There i s no q u e s t i o n o f replacing a n economic determ i n i s m
with a d e mog ra p h i c d e term i n i s m , of tl tting causes ( de m ograph i c
grow th ) t o n e c e s sary e Hects ( transformat i o n of t h e s o c i a l organ i
zati on ) , a n d yet o n e cannot fa i l t o remark , espec i a l l y a s regard s
A m e r i c a , the s o c i o l ogical co nsequence o f popu l a t i o n s i z e , t h e
abil i ty t h e increase in densities has t o unsettle ( I do not say destroy )
pri mitive s o c i e ty. In tact it is very probab le that a basic condition
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for the e x i stence of p ri m i t i ve societies is their relatively small

d emographic size. Thi ngs can function on the p ri m i tive model
o n l y i f t h e people are few i n number. Or, i n other words , i n order
for a s o c iety to be prim i t i ve , i t must be numerical l y smal l . And ,
i n e ffe c t , what one ob serves in the Savage world is a n e x traord i
nary patchwork o f "nations , " tribes, a n d societies made u p o f local
groups that take great care to preserve their autonomy w i t h i n the
l a rger group of which they are a part , although they may c o n c l u d e
temporary alliances w i th the i r nearby "fellow-countryme n , " i f the
c i rc u m s t a n c e s - e s p e c i al l y those having to do w i th warfa r e
d e mand it. This atomization of the tribal universe is unquestionably
an effective means of preventing the establishment of socio-poli tical
gro u p i ng s that wou l d i ncorporate the local groups and , beyond
that, a means o f preventing the emergence of the S tate , which is a
u n i fi e r b y nature .
Now, it is disturbing to find that the Tupi-Guaran i , as they existed
a t the t i m e o f their d i scovery by Europe, represent a c o n s i derab l e
d e parture from the u sual p ri m i tive world , and on two essential
points:

the demographic denSity ratio

o f t h e i r tribes or l o c a l group s

c l early e xceeds t h a t o f t h e n e ighboring populati o n s ; m o re over,

the size of the local groups is out of all proportion to the socio-political
u n i ts o f the Trop ical Fore s t . Of course , the Tupinamba v i l l ag e s ,
for i n s tanc e , which n u mbered several thousand i n h ab i tants, were
n o t c i t i e s ; but they d i d cease to belong to the " s tandard " d e m o
graphi c range of t h e neighboring societies. Against this background
o f d e m ographic expansion and concentration o f the populati o n ,
there stands o u t - this too i s an unusual phenomenon for p r i m i
t i ve A merica, i f not for imperial America - t h e manifest tendency
of the c h i e ftainshi ps to acqu i re a power u nknown e lsewhere . The
Tup i - G u arani chiefs were n o t despots, to be sure; b u t t h ey were
n o t altogether powerl ess c h i e fs ei ther. This i s n o t the place to
u n dertake the long and compl ex task of analyzing the chieftainship
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among t h e Tu p i - G u aran i . Let me c o n fi n e myse l f to p o i n t i ng o u t ,

at one e n d o f s o c i et y, as i t were , a demographi c , growth , and , at
the other end, the s l ow e m e rgence o f p o l i tical power. It does n o t
r e s t w i t h e t h n o l og y ( or at l east not i t alone ) to answer the ques
t i o n o f t h e c a u s e s o f d e m ograp h i c e x p a n s i o n i n a pri m i t i ve soci
e t y. B u t i t does fal l to that d i s c i p l i n e to l i n k the demograp h i c a n d
the pol i ti c a l , to a n a l y z e the force e x erted by the former on the
l atter, b y means o f the s o c i o l og i cal .
Throug h o u t t h i s te x t . I have consi stently argued that a separate
power is n o t possi b l e in a pri m i t i ve socie ty, fo r reasons deri\' i ng
Iro m t h e i r i n ternal o rgani zati o n ; t h a t it i s not possi b l e for the State

to ari se fro m w i th i n pri m i ti ve s oc i e ty. And h e re it seems that I

have j u s t c o n trad i c ted myself by speak i ng of the Tu pi-Gu aran i as
an e x a m p l e ofa pri m i ti v e s o c i e t y i n w h i c h someth i n g w a s b egin
n i ng to surface that could have become the State . It i s u n d e n i a b l e
t h a t a pro c e s s was d eve l o p i ng i n t h o s e soc i e t i e s , i n progre ss f(J r
q u i t e a l o ng t i m e no d o u b t - a process that a i m e d at estab l i s h i ng
a c h i e ft a i n s h i p w h o s e po l i t i c a l power was n o t i n c o n s i d erab l e .
T h i ngs h a d e v e n rea c h e d a po i n t w h e re t h e f re n c h a n d Po rtuguese
c h ro n i c l ers d i d n o t h e s i t a t e t o bestow o n t h e great c h i e f s o t' t ri b a l
kd e ra t i o n s the t i t l e s " p rov i n c i a l k i ng s " o r " k i ng l e t s ." T h a t p ro
c e s s of p ro i(l lll1 d tra n s t(mn a t i o n o f t h e Tu pi-G uara n i soc i e t y \\'as
bru ta l l y i n te rr u p t e d by the arri v a l o f t h e E ur o p e a n s . D o e s t h a t
mean that i f the d i s c overy o f t h e N e w Wo rl d h a d taken p l a c e a
c e n t u ry l a t e r, i( )r e x a m p l e , a State i(Hm a t i o n wo u l d have b e e n
i m posed o n t h e I n d i a n tribes o f t h e Bra z i l ian c o astal reg i o n s ? I t i s
a h\'ays easy, and ri s k y, to rec o n s t r u c t a h y p o t h e t i c a l h i story t h a t
n o e v i d e n c e c a n c o n trad i c t . B u t i n t h i s i n stan c e , I t h i n k i t i s pos
s i b l e to a n s w e r fi r m l y in the nega t i v e : i t was n o t t h e arri v a l o ft h e
We stern ers that p u t a stop to the eventual e m e rgence o f t h e State
a m o ng t h e Tu p i - G u a ra n i , b u t rat h e r an awak e n i ng o f soc i c t y i t s e l f
t o i ts own n a t u re a s pri m i t i ve soc i e ty. a n awak e n i ng , an upri s i n g .

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that was d i rected against the chieftai nship in a s e n s e , i f n o t e x p l ic

i t l y ; for, i n any case , it had d e s tructive e ffects o n the power o f the
c h i e fs . I have i n mind that strange phen o m e n o n that, begi n n i ng
i n the l ast decades o f the fi fteenth century, s t i rred up the Tu p i
Guaran i tri b e s , the fi e ry preaching of certain men w h o went fro m
group to group inciting the I ndians t o forsake everything and launch
o u t in s e arch o f the Land Wi thout Evi l , the earth l y parad i s e .
I n p r i m i tive s o c i e t y, the c h i e fta i n s h i p a n d l anguage a r e i n tr i n
s i cal l y l i n ke d ; speech i s the o n l y power with w h i c h the c h i e f i s
vested ; more t h a n that s p e e c h i s an obligation fo r h i m . B u t t h e re
i s another sort of speech , another d i scourse , u t tered not by the
c h i e fs , but by those men who, in the fi fteenth and s i x te e n t h c e n
turies, carried thousands of I ndians along behind t h e m i n mad migra
t i o n s q ue s t i ng for th homeland o f the god s : i t i s the d i scourse o f
t h e karai, a prophetic speech , a v i ru l ent speec h , h i g h l y subversive
i n its a ppeal to the I nd ians to undertake what m u s t be ack n mv l
edged a s the destru c t i o n o f society. The proph e t s ' c a l l t o aban d o n
the evil land ( that i s , s o c i e t y as i t e x i sted ) i n o r d e r to inherit the
Land Without Ev i l , t h e society o f divine happi n e s s , i m p l i e d the
d eath of society's structure and system o f norm s . Now that s o c i
e t y w a s i ncreasi ngl y c o m i ng u n d e r t h e authority o f th e c h i efs , t h e
weight of their nasce n t po l i ti cal power. It i s reasonab l e , then , to
suppose that if the proph e t s , ri sen up from the core o f s o c i et y,
proc l a i m e d the wor l d in which men were l i v i n g to be evi l , t h i s
w a s b e c ause they s u r m i se d that the m i s fortu n e , the evi l , l ay i n
that slow death to which the e m e rgence o f power wo u l d s o o n e r
o r l a t e r c o n d e m n Tup i - G uarani s o c i e ty, insofar as it was a pri m i
t i ve s o c i ety, a soc i e ty without a State. Tro u b l e d by the k e l i ng
that the anc i e n t pri m i t i ve world was tre m b l i ng at i ts fo undati o n s ,
a n d h a u nted by the premonition of a soci o-econo m i c catastrop h e ,
the prophets d e c i d e d that t h e world h a d to be changed , t h a t o n e
must change worl d s , aband on the world o f m e n for that o f t h e god s .
2 II,

SOC I E T Y

A G A INST

T H E ST A T E

A proph e t i c speech that i s s t i ll l iving, as the texts " P rophets i n

the Jungl e " a n d " O f the O n e Wi thout t h e Many" s h o u l d show.
The fou r or five thousand remaining Guarani Indians l ead a wretched
e x i s tence i n t h e fo rests o f Paraguay, but they are s t i l l i n possession
o f the i n c o mparab l e weal th afforded them by the komi. To be sure ,
t h e l a t t e r n o l onger s e rve as g u i d e s to w h o l e trib e s , l i ke their
s i x teenth-century ancestors ; the searc h for the l.and Wi thout Fvil
is n o l o nger p o s s i b l e . But t h e l ack o f ac t i o n s e e m s to have encour
aged a frenzy of thought, an ever deepening reflection on the unhap
p i ness of the h u m a n c o n d i t i o n . And that savage though t , born o f
t h e dazz l i ng light o f t h e Su n , tel l s
the

s o u rc e

LI S

that the b i rthp l a c e o f E v i l ,

o f m i fortu n e , i s t h e O n e .

Perhaps a l i t t l e m o re n e e d s to be said a b o u t t h e G u a rani sage's

concept o f the O n e . \Vhat does the term embrace ? The favo r i te
themes o f c o n t emporary G uaran i thought arc the same ones that
d i sturbed , m ore than fo u r c e n t u r i e s ago , those who were cal l ed

korai, pro p h e t s . W h y i s the wo rld ev i l ? W hat can we d o to escape

the ev i l ? T h e s e a r e q u e s t i o n s t h a t generat i ons o f those I n d i ans have
asked the m s e l ves ove r and over aga i n : the korai of today c l i ng patheti
c a l l y to t h e d i sc o u rse o f the prophets o f t i m e s pa s t . T h e latter
k n ew that t h e One was e v i l ; that is what they preac hed , from v i l
l age t o v i l l ag e , a n d t h e p e o p l e f() l l owed a fter them in search j()r
the G o o d , t h e q u e s t f(J r t h e not-O n e . l l e n c e we hav e , a m ong the
Tu p i - G u a ra n i a t t h e t i m e o f t h e D i sc ove ry, o n th e o n e h a n d , a
prac t i c e - t h e re l ig i o u s m ig ra t i o n - w h i c h i s i n e x p l i c a b l e u n l e s s
i t i s s e e n as t h e refu sa l o f t h e course to w h i c h the c h i e fta i n s h i p
was c o m m i t t i ng the soc i e ty, the refusal o f separate pol i t i cal power.
the refu s a l o f the S t a t e ; a n d , on the o t h e r hand ,

p ro p h e t i c d i s

c o u rse t h a t i d e n t i fi e s the O n e as the ro o t of E v i l . a n d asserts the

poss i b i l i t y o f break i ng i ts h o l d . W h at makes i t poss i b l e t o con
c e i ve o f t h e O n e ? In o n e way or another, i t s presen c e , whether
hated o r d e s i red , m u s t be v i s i b l e . And that is why I bel i eve one can
2 16

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N ST

T H E

S TAT E

make out, beneath the metaphysical proposition that equates Evil

with the One, another, more secret equation, o f a political nature,
which says that the One i s the State. Tupi-Guarani prophetism i s
the heroic attempt of a pri m itive society t o p u t a n end t o u n h ap
piness by means o f a radical refusal of the O ne , as the u n i versal
essence of the Stat e . This "political" rea d i ng o f a metaphysical
intuition should prompt a somewhat sacrilegi ou s q u e s ti o n : c o u l d
not every metaphysi c s of t h e O n e be subj ected to a s i m i l ar read
i ng? What about the One as the Good, as the preferential obj ect
that dawning Wes tern metaphysics assigned to man's desire? Let
me go no further than thi s tro u b lesome piece of evi d e n c e : the
mind of the savage prophets and that of the ancient Greeks con
ceive of the same thing , Oneness; b u t the Guarani I nd i a n says that
the One i s Evi l , w hereas Herac l i t u s says that it i s the G o o d . Wha t

conditions m ust obtain i n order to conceive of the One a s the Good?

In conclusion, let us return to the exemplary world of the Tupi
Guaran i . H ere i s a soc i e ty that was encroached upon, threatened ,
by the i rresistible rise of the c hi e fs ; i t responded by cal l i ng u p
from within itself and releas i ng forces capable , albeit a t t h e price
o f collective near suicide, o f thwarting the dynam i c o f the chief
tainsh i p , of cutting short the movement that might have caused i t
t o transform the chi e fs i n to law-giving k i ngs. O n one s i d e , the
chiefs , on the other, and standing against them, the prophet s : these
were the essential l i n e s o f Tu p i - G u arani society at the end of the
fifteenth century. And the prophetic "machine" worked perfectly
well , since the karai were able to sweep astonishing masses o f I ndi
ans along b eh in d them , so sp e l l b ou nd ( as one wou l d sa y today ) by
the language of those men that they wou l d accompany them to
the point of death .
W hat i s the signifi cance of all that? Armed only with thei r Word ,
the prophets were able to bring about a "mob i l ization" of the I n d i
ans; they were abl e to accomplish t h a t i m p o s s i b l e t h i ng i n primi2 17

S O C I E T Y

A G A I N S T

THE

STAT E

tive soci ety: to u n i fy, i n the religious migration , the multifarious

variety o f the tribes. They managed to carry out the whole "pro
gram" o f the chiefs with a single stroke . Was this the ruse of h i s
tory? A fatal flaw that, i n s p i t e o f everything, dooms primi tive
society to d ependency? There is no way o f knowing. B u t , in any
case, the insurrectional act of the prophets agai nst the chiefs con
ferred on the former, through a strange reversal of things , infinitely
more power than was held by the l atter. So perhaps the idea of the
spoken word being opposed to violence needs to be amended .
While the primitive chie f i s under the obligation ofinnocen t speech,
primitive society can also , given quite specific co nditions, lend
i ts ear to another sort o f speech , forgetting that i t is u ttered like a
commandment: prophecy is that other speech. In the di scourse
of the prophets there may I ie the seed s of the d i scourse of power,
and beneath the e xal ted features of the mover of men , the one
who tells them o f t h e i r d e s i re , the silent figure o f the Despot
may be h i ding .
Proph etic speech , the power o f that speech: m ight this be the
place where pmver l o u l co urt origi nated , the beginning o f the State
in the Wo rd ? Pro phets who were sou l-w inners before they were
the masters o r men? Perhaps. But even in the e x trem e e x perience
of prophetism ( e x trem e in that the lupi-Guarani society had doubt
l ess reached , w h e ther f()f demograph i c reasons or o thers , the fu r
thest l i m i ts that d e fi n e a s oc i e t y as pri m i tive ) , w h at t h e Savages
e x h i b i t i s the c o n t i n u a l e H<lrt t o preve nt chids from being chiefs ,
the re fusal o f u n i fication, t h e end eavor to e x orc i se the O n e , t h e
State. I t i s said that t h e h i story o f peopl es who have a hi story i s
the hi story of class strugg l e . I t m ight b e sai d , w i th a t least a s much
truthfu l ness, that the hi story o f peoples w i thout history i s the his
tory of the i r s t rugg l e against the State .

This edition designed by Bruce Mau

Type composed by Canadian Composition
Printed and bound by Arcata Graphics/Halliday
using Sebago acid-free paper

Pierre Cl astres
Born in 1 9 3 4 , Pi erre Clastres was edu
cated at the Sorbonne; throughout the
1 960s h e l i ved with I nclian groups i n
Paraguay and Venezuela. F r o m 1 9 7 1 u n t i l
h i s death i n 1 9 7 9 he was a D i rector o f
S t u d i e s at t h e E c o l e Prati q u e d e s Hautes
Etudes i n Pari s where he held the chair
o f Religio n and Societies o f the South
Am erican I ndians. H i s o t h e r books are

The Guayaki Indians ( 1 9 7 2 ) , Le Grand Parler

( 1 9 7 4 ) , and Recherches d'anthropoJog ie

politique ( 1 9 8 0 ) .