aatasattu and the future of psychoanalytic

Ajfitasattu and the future of psychoanalytic anthropology. Part III: Culture,

imagination, and the wish

Dan W. Forsyth

THE CONCEPT OF 'SPLITTING OF THE EGO'

The previous two parts of this essay indicated several weaknesses in Gananath Obeyesekere's position as it is developed in the first chapter of The work of culture. In Part IP special attention was paid to his interpretation of the behavior and mentation of two religious ecstatics named Abdin and Pemavati. It is evidentwas Obeyesekere asserts--that Abdin and Pemavati are very different due to their distinctive experiences of the intimate relations of culture, imagination, and wish. Obeyesekere (1990: 19) is also right to eschew treating their lifestyles, beliefs, and religious behaviors as kinds of, or as paralleling, psychic defense mechanisms. The experiences of the ecstatics result, in large part, from highly complex and stable ego processes that are much more elaborate than those associated with defense mechanisms. But, pace Obeyesekere's strategy, the route to understanding the differences between the two ecstatics does not rely so much on Paul Ricoeur's work, as in a return to Sigmund Freud's formulations. In this paper I will explore how some of Freud's insights shed light on the problem. The understanding achieved will, however, suggest a modest refinement of one of Freud's conceptual formulations.

So far, I have largely ignored the structural hypothesis, in order to meet Obeyesekere on his own ground (see Part I, n.13). But we will now drop this strategy and apply Freud's notion of the 'splitting' of the ego to the ecstatics' experiences. Freud (1940a) introduces the idea of a split in the ego in one of his last papers, and he develops it in his last long work, 'An outline of psychoanalysis' (1940b). When a split in the ego occurs, two contradictory 'attitudes'

International Journal of Hindu Studies 2, 1 (April 1998): 85-106 1998 by the World Heritage Press Inc.

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exist simultaneously: 'The two attitudes persist side by side throughout [the lifetime] without influencing each other' (Freud 1940b: 203). On one side of the split is the normal attitude, which takes account of (acknowledges) reality. It is directed outward and serves adaptive ego-functioning. It is aware of the body and the world as they, roughly, are. The other attitude, heavily influenced by instinctual urges, 'detaches' part of the ego from (disavows) reality with respect to the content of the first attitude. This disavowal is directed inward and is deeply involved with bodily issues in a dereistic manner. 2

Freud (1940b: 203, cf. 1927) illustrates splitting of the ego by analyzing male fetishism. He does this as follows. The fetishist recognizes that women do not possess a penis. This is the outward directed attitude; it 'acknowledges' reality --namely, that the fetishist's sexual partner lacks a penis. Acknowledging that some person does not have a penis implies that a penis can in fact be lost. For reasons peculiar to his own development, the fetishist takes this threat very seriously and consequently suffers strong castration anxiety. To relieve this anxiety he 'gives' his partner a penis symbolically by assigning a fetish to them. (Let us say the fetish is a shoe.)

In the inward directed attitude, we find the fetishist believing in the veracity of the symbol of the penis. That is to say, unconsciously he believes that the fetish (the shoe) is a penis. Consequently, at this level he believes the woman has a penis, and so his castration anxiety diminishes. This attitude, then, is not aimed at reality but at lessening castration anxiety by disavowing the fact that the sexual partner lacks a penis. A final, and important, note on this matter is that splitting of the ego is found in ordinary life as well as in fetishism (Freud 1940b: 204)---an observation often overlooked in current therapy, where splitting is frequently considered to be a serious disorder.

Splitting of the ego is a suitable construct for our case because it deals with complex, sustained, and highly organized behavior and mentation (including elaborate fantasies). As Freud (1940b: 204) points out, a split in the ego is not neurotic, for in neurosis one of the attitudes 'belongs' to (that is, is repressed into) the id; whereas in a split ego the two attitudes are located in ego processes. The ecstatic trances and associated behavior of Obeyesekere's religious virtuosos are saturated with ego processes3---conscious, preconscious, and unconscious. The behavior, after all, consists in 'personal symbols' and thus incorporates sophisticated cultural material. (This is evident, for example, when the ecstatics make credible prophecies while in their trances.)

Culture and the outward directed attitude

The chief issue for psychoanalytic anthropology in this formulation is how

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culture 'meets' the outward directed attitude. (The inner directed one is basically impervious to the world.) Culture does this by structuring conditions bearing on individual development 4 and by influencing current circumstances. In both instances, though, the psychic consequences of past experience are important causal factors. 5 Also, when culture meets the outward attitude in both instances, it is usually not conducting the meeting. Rather, we find the individual trying to arrange culture, in a real sense, to meet 'themself' (that is, their needs)-----or else they enjoy preexisting cultural arrangements, which were established by their predecessors to satisfy the needs of those predecessors. In this, the wish 'reaches along' the outward directed attitude toward culture, seeking gratification through what culture offers. Finally, the nature of the meeting is communicable to others. In fact, if the meeting is ritualized, its primary purpose is communication (on the other hand, the content of the internally directed attitude is difficult to convey, credibly, to others).

To be more specific, we can say that there are two major ways by which culture tantalizes and 'tends' the outward directed attitude. One is by helping set the mise en sc~ne; that is, by helping establish who is to be in the person's milieux and which of these are to serve as nurturers, frustraters, and objects for projection, identification, and so on. As part of this, culture sets the physical proximity of others, their precedence in various series, their priority in arrangements, and the rhythm of their presentation to the person (hourly, daily, weekly, seasonal, irregular, and so forth). Culture also influences propriety in the person's milieux: who or what is worthy of approval, emulation, obedience, and who is to be rejected, ignored, punished. And it does this across a wide span of scenarios, ranging from play and games at one end to ritual at the other. In the context of Obeyesekere's cases, these matters are identified with such cultural stipulations as female eroticism is shameful, children sleep with their mothers, and a human body can be a god's vessel.

The other major way culture meets the outward directed attitude is by proffering metaphors that are isomorphic with signs the person is creating or is already using in their private mentation. 6 This is an ongoing process in life, but childhood is a decisive period, for this is when the child is creating signs that set trajectories for subsequent symbol development. We should also note that, during early childhood, culture often meets the outward directed attitude as Culture. That is to say, it proffers these metaphors in panhuman situations revolving around the child's experiences with its own body, with the body of the mother, and with the bodies of adult males and of other children. So we find cultural metaphors for bodily interactions to be quite commonplace (for example, the universality of standards of bodily hygiene--moral as well as physical). The embodiment of experience at a young age is inescapable because

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of the cognitive immaturity of the mind, which is thrown back on its own primitive resources; so it meets reality on terms which are intrinsic to that which it knows first and best: in part, itself--as Emmanuel Kant told us--but also in terms of the body that encases it (see Freud's corpus; Johnson 1987; Lakoff 1987). Thus, even in later life, metaphors imbued with somatic referents deeply engage the mind and can serve as powerful motivations for conformity to cultural values and social norms.

METAPHORICAL OVERLAP

Because the mind is encased in the body, it must--at base--metaphoricalize reality. And the most likely channels for the meeting of deeply private metaphors and cultural ones are 'natural' icons (cf. Friedrich 1975: 219) and what we will call 'suggestive' icons. The former are exemplified in the cultural presentation of, for instance, orifices/receivers/containers--which serve as ready isomorphic symbols for body orifices--and their counterparts (fillers/projections)-- which serve a complementary function. In the ecstatics' cases, we have the mouth of Kali corresponding with Abdin's own mouth/vagina and the penis of the god represented in the priestess' locks. "Suggestive' icons can be much more complex and highly organized, for example, Skanda as the stern and handsome father (Obeyesekere 1977: 265) and Urvasi as the seductive mother (Kakar 1978: 96-97).

Such iconic forms in the outer world foster the fantasized satisfaction of wishes because iconic images are essential to the effective imagination of the gratification of wishes. Effective imagination, we recall, is the mental 'experiencing' of a fantasy. 7 It is also known as 'magical thinking' and 'the omnipo- tence of thought' (Edelson 1988: 161--62, 180-83, 219). But the necessity of these iconic forms to this process does not explain their operation. Their operation depends on their being 'in' the experienced overlap between cultural form and psychobiographical mentation. Fundamentally, this means they must help constitute an overlap between primary and secondary process thought. Explaining how such a relationship occurs has proven very difficult for the human studies. But the explanation will not result, 1 submit, from Obeye- sekere's claim that culture enjoys an ontological autonomy from other forms of mentation. This is because there must be an identity, in the mind, between the two types of mentation if the relationship is to exist. Neither does Freud offer a viable explanation. He does describe the content of the identity by pointing out the derivatives that inhabit the overlap. But the explanation lies in knowing


how there can be such a moment in the mind of a person; that is, how in the first place can there be an overlap between primary and secondary thought? To my knowledge, only two other theorists have made serious attempts to answer this question.

George Devereux (1978 [1945]) tried and gave us two answers. In the first, he threw up his hands and declared the problem a methodological one, in which the overlap disappears during the shift from one qualitatively different and complete type of understanding to another (namely, from a psychological understanding to a sociological one or vice versa). The two 'perspectives' are seen as complementary. 8 But, in this first effort, Devereux does not identify the mechanism by which the experience of a knowing subject can arise from the confluence of two kinds of things that are so different they must be explained in sui generis perspectives. Later, Devereux (1967:291) returns to the psychological anatomy of the point of complementarity and describes it by analogy as a gap---a kind of 'Dedekind cut'--and then he declares it to be an overlap in the mind, marked by the sensation 'This I perceive' (Devereux 1967: 280, 291,317). But he does not explain how the perception can happen. He does attribute it to psychoanalytic resonance. However, the reason the gap can be bridged by resonance (that is, the formal nature of the overlap) remains unspecified.

On the other hand, a solution has been provided by the other theorist who has examined this problem, Melford Spirt. In an incisive argument, Spirt (1992, 1993: 188) shows that when metaphor is involved, primary process and secondary process can be identical in the structural and formal features of thought they manifest. Freud missed this in his exploration of the two types of mentation, and Devereux, as I have said, does not specify the nature of the path by which meaning 'travels across' his Dedekind cut. The identity uncovered by Spirt is, I think, the formal constituent of the overlap, and it is exploited by the actively seeking wish (the 'provocateur') pressing for gratification in fantasy, if not in behavior. In short, this formal identity facilitates the effective imagining of gratification in ways markedly influenced by external factors (of course it also assists defense and the enactment of satisfying behavior)?

DELAYED GRATIFICATION AND SYMBOL

Once again we find that the task of culture is cognitive in nature. That is to say, it is an important way by which we come to confer meaning--as Obeyesekere, Max Weber, Clifford Geertz, and many others have told us. But even as a category 'exclaimer' it cannot 'feel' or 'do' anything. ~ Moreover, the exploita-

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tion of culture by the wish is not automatic, immediate, or full. For the true value of the teasing and tending by culture is that the gratification of the wish is attenuated or delayed by being rerouted into culturally approved or neutral expressions. Hence, symbolic--not actual--satisfaction is achieved, and grounds are laid for the formation of emotionally potent 'symbols' (cf. Obeyesekere's 'personal' symbol 1981; Parsons 1969: 14, 45). In fact, without the delay universally instanced in Culture, our lifestyle would never have evolved very far beyond the comparatively restricted action patterns of our distant hominoid ancestors; and without the symbolic enticements of culture, our enculturation into a particular social order would be rocky indeed and social integration would consequently suffer.

Delay also provides the opportunity (at least) for more realistic ideation. Through delay, the world may be conceptualized more as it is, than as the wish would have it be (cf. Devereux 1967: 317). Finally, delay prevents premature repression (the latter precludes sublimation [Freud 1910: 54]). Now the astute reader may have realized that disconnection is another word for absolute sublimation (cf. Obeyesekere 1990: xviii). But the metatheoreticai standing of sublimation, even moderate sublimation, is very untidy (Gay 1992). Unfortunately, space restraints prevent entering the debate in this paper. But it seems clear that both play and ritual are important components of what happens in sublimation (Freud 1905, 1913, 1916: 376; Gay 1992), and I have already indicated how culture plays a role in the way these entice, and thus delay, wish satisfaction.

Before leaving this topic, I would like to suggest three major means by which delay is achieved through cultural enticements. The first is developmental in nature. In the earliest stages of life, delay requires good enough mothering. This builds (through internalization) 'structures' in the developing mind, which are stable enough to postpone the impulse to act (see, e.g., Lichtenberg 1989). At later stages of development, delay relies on, inter alia, identification, which leads to the creation of highly sophisticated internal structures like the ego ideal and the punitive aspect of the superego. These structures help the individual explore the 'other' rather than indulge the self (Lichtenberg 1989). And later in life, the effect of other persons continues to be crucial--as I argued above in pointing out that the pull, which produces symbolic remove, may be more social than cultural. (At least one modern student of sublimation agrees with this emphasis on the social [Gay 1992: 2921.)

The second means by which culture aids delay stems from, what Freud and Otto Fenichel (1954 [1937]: 53) call, 'forepleasure.' No one is Tantalus while they are in the realm of effective imagination or of fascination (Gay 1992: 278), and culture aids and abets this symbolic gratification with its provision of teasing scenes and natural and suggestive icons. Along this line, it is important


to recognize that the corroboration of other persons is of inestimable value in establishing enticements as available, enjoyable, and perhaps even legitimate. But this corroboration does not make anything real (pace Obeyesekere 1990: 66), even though it does cloud the mind's ability to test reality. Our senses evolved largely to tell us what really is or isn't there, and they are pretty good at doing this most of the time, for most people. For instance, the intact reality testing abilities of persons in deep--and seemingly oblivious--trance and the fact that hallucinations are not sustainable across all persons, or (usually) over extended lengths of time, indicate that reality considerations are obstinate and are virtually never fully suspended---despite weighty cultural or social pressure to the contrary.

Finally, the richness of a cultural repertory of enticements enables culture to meet the variety of ways in which the wish can be imaginatively gratified--a variety stemming mainly from the vicissitudes and polarities of instinct in primary process thought (Freud 1915a). The shuttling among various forms of imagined gratifications (active/passive, self/object, pleasure/unpleasure) is of course assisted by the cultural forms inviting specific shifts. I~ Therein, we again find cultural enticements deflecting and delaying the actual gratification of the wish or preventing its premature repression. In so doing, the mind's use of culture increases opportunities for satisfaction of the wish through more sophisticated and less autistic (but not necessarily more 'realistic') participation in the world.

SPLITTING OF THE EGO AND THE ECSTATICS

These, then, are some of the ways in which the outward directed attitude of the ego 'meets' culture. What bearing do they have on our examination of Obeye- sekere's ecstatics? There are at least three issues involved in this. First, how does use of the construct of 'splitting of the ego' distinguish the priestess' behavior from Abdin's in ways different from those found in Obeyesekere's conceptualization? Second, does this construct help explain why the priestess, and not Abdin, is so successful as a religious specialist? Third, does this conceptualization of the cases yield any theoretical benefits for psychoanalysis?

As before, I will take Abdin's Kali ritual and Pemavati's Arude experience as the foci of my inquiry. Whether by my claims, or by Obeyesekere's, these rituals are crystallizations of central generative forces in the ecstatics' lives. Therefore, to the extent the ritual behavior embodies splitting, an inquiry into it will reveal the sources and effects of the split in the ecstatics' lives. Now, at

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points my analysis will be close to Obeyesekere's. But it also veers away from his in important respects, and the points of divergence have serious implications for theory.

To begin, let me suggest how central aspects of the two kinds of ritual behavior show the effects of splitting of the ego.

The fear: (i) In the case of a male using a fetish: I will lose my penis because my

sexual partner has no penis. (ii) Abdin and Kale: my mother will punish me. (This is based on my

conjectures about Abdin's frightening, frustrating childhood experiences with Reyanthumma.)

(iii) Pemavati and her Arude: I have no penis; I have been castrated; I am vulnerable.

The disavowal of reality (internally directed, private, heavily physicalized): (i) Fetish: the woman has a penis, so I am not in danger of losing mine. (ii) Abdin and K~I[: my mother is a refuge, a protector; so there is no danger

of the bad mother hurting me. (iii) Pemavati and Arude: I possess a penis; I have sex with 'father.'

The acknowledgment: This is outward directed and recognizes reality. It is also communicable to

others, so we will ask whether it is, in fact, communicated and--because we want to know how this attitude meets culture--we will ask whether the communication is a collective representation.

(i) Fetish: the woman is given a shoe. The communication is that this appurtenance makes her sexy or more sexy. True enough, that fetishism is usually practiced in private and can be quite an idiosyncratic affair. But in the example we are using (a shoe as the fetish), the widely recognized sex appeal of garments cannot be overlooked, and in some cases a shoe may even be considered a collective representation (as in the case of patent leather boots in the US or of footwear related to foot binding in nineteenth-century China).

(ii) Abdin and Kaff: What the respective rituals communicate to others is very important in understanding differences between Abdin's and the priestess' cases. Both ecstatics utter prophecies, so there is no difference in this respect. Abdin strives to communicate that he is K~li, but whether he convinces anyone of this (including himself) is questionable. For instance, he recognizes that he must resort to spectacular means (head bashing) to 'prove' he is K~Ii (Obeyesekere 1981: 155), and he admits, in the K~li rite, that he is not believable as Kfili


(Obeyesekere 1990: 7). But this does not necessarily mean that a split does not exist. His becoming K~Ii is an intended communication, and his need to resort to the rite to communicate it is an acknowledgment of reality (after all, the fetishist may find the shoe does not 'fit' perfectly, but it still serves as a symbolic penis at some level of his mind).

Rather, in Abdin's situation splitting is hampered because the rite communi- cates the very thing that it is supposed to disavow; namely, the fact that he is/was physically hurt by his mother. That is to say, the rite states clearly that the mother is bad, that she hurts the child. There is little splitting here. The pain of Abdin's wounds tells him how close and real his fear is, and the message conveyed in this kind of physicali~, is also perceived by his audience.

Moreover, K~Ii as the bad mother is a collective representation, so the fear- some message of the rite is culturally conveyed to others (contra Obeyesekere 1990: 27)---and this meaning disturbs them, as it would anyone. They do not wish to be reminded of their own fears of the destructive mother, especially in as graphic a manner as Abdin's self-abuse. Hence, both the message and the medium/messenger disturb them. This internal contradiction in the rite goes some way toward revealing that if there is a split in Abdin's ego, it is not an efficient one. And this, as I will try to show, is a major difference between his overall experience and that of the priestess. But it also explains, in part, Abdin's lack of success as a religious specialist. Without the 'economy' of an efficient split in his ego, he cannot sustain that deeply dereistic, yet very complex, combination of behavior and belief that leads to success as an ecstatic religious virtuoso in any society.

But there is more to his failure than the muddled messages in his rite--and, by extension, in his life? 2 For when we examine the priestess' case, we see a superbly crafted performance and lifestyle; and Abdin's skill and reputation can only suffer by comparison. Let us now examine the priestess' case.

(iii) Pemavati's Arude: Publicly, Pemavati is possessed by a male natiya (her 'uncle'), and she becomes this nat(va (see Part II, n. 16). At another level of her mind, during this possession, she gives herself a penis, and at a third level, she has sex with this father figure. These latter experiences, however, are not communicated to others; they are conveyed only in the internally directed attitude. On the other hand, the natiya intrusion is clearly communicated because it instantiates a collective representation and because its message is not muddied by other features of the trance. That is to say, Pemavati's orgasm and 'possession' of the penis are technically ~3 invisible to the spectators. Hence, she benefits from a much more successful split than does Abdin and from one in which the outward directed attitude is met, aided, and abetted by culture in a much less frightening way than in Abdin's case.

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THE CHIEF DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ABDIN AND THE PRIESTESS

Because Pemavati's split is much more efficient than Abdin's, she largely gets what she wants, while Abdin almost succeeds in a minor sense and abysmally fails in a major one. Pemavati clearly enjoys her 'fetish' (she gets a penis and sexual satisfaction), while the unfortunate Abdin fumbles his and is hurt again. Abdin's symbolic movement is regressive in this sense, but this has never been questioned. An interesting insight provided by the splitting construct is that there are actually two 'movements' (though clumsy) in Abdin's strategy, not just a regressive one. That is to say, there is the move to acknowledge as well as the move to disavow, and they are stable, complex, ego-syntonic movements, which comprise an inefficient splitting of his ego.

But the more interesting points revealed by this analysis regard the splitting of the priestess' ego. First, the efficiency of Pemavati's split and the way her culture meets the split help us understand why she is a priestess and not an ad hoc freelancer like Abdin. Second, the analysis prompts us to propose a change in a particular psychoanalytic construct. Both of these points result from applying Freud's (1915b: 195) concept of 'specially perfect functioning' to the splitting of the ego in the priestess' case. Here is Freud's description of specially perfect functioning:

Co-operation between a preconscious and an unconscious impulse, even when the latter is intensely repressed, may come about if there is a situation in which the unconscious impulse can act in the same sense as one of the dominant trends. The repression is removed in this instance, and the repressed activity is admitted as a reinforcement of the one intended by the ego. The unconscious becomes ego-syntonic in respect of this single conjunction without any change taking place in its repression apart from this. In this co- operation the influence of the [unconscious] is unmistakable: the reinforced tendencies reveal themselves as being nevertheless different from the normal; they make specially perfect functioning possible, and they manifest a resistance in the face of opposition which is similar to that offered, for instance, by obsessional symptoms (1915b: 194-95; emphasis added).

This passage may be an example of Freud at his murkiest. But the mention of specially perfect functioning by a theorist of Freud's rank deserves special effort on our part. So, at the risk of stumbling in the dark, I will try to clarify this construct by applying it to Pemavati's religiosity. If I am successful, the


concept may be useful in the study of the relationship between culture, imagination, and the forbidden wishes of successful religious specialists.

Let us begin by noting Freud's (1915b: 190-91) remark that an unconscious impulse can act 'in the same sense as one of the dominant trends' of the preconscious when the impulse is relatively well organized. Such a level of organization is found in fantasies, and in other substitutions or derivatives, at the upper--and only the upper--layer of the unconscious (of. Freud 1915b). In Obeyesekere's priestess such 'organization' exists because her ego processes fasten onto that which is appealing to repressed wishes and available in cultural teases. In Pemavati's case the enticement consists in the way her culture arranges the mise en scEne--namely, that the god shall be here and now; and in the way it proffers certain metaphorical enticements--namely, that loving male gods can get 'into' their slaves. The effect of this cultural 'direction' allows unconscious ego material to gain quasi-secondary process organization (the fantasy becomes more precise, stable, elaborate, because it is tuned to [not tuned 'by'] the cultural material).

However--and here is the theoretical refinement--what Freud calls the 'repressed activity' that reinforces the one intended by the ego is a wish-driven refraction of the enticing cultural form. That is to say, in Pemavati's case, the unconscious wish to have sex with her father/uncle remains unconscious. (In her Arude, she does not consciously envision intercourse with her uncle; to the extent she consciously grasps her condition, she knows only possession by the natiya.) At the unconscious level of experiencing her Arude, she understands the tease 'Fatherly gods enter your body' in a figurative sense (Spiro 1993: 189). By exploiting the metaphorical dimension of the tease, she is able to imagine, unconsciously, having sex with her father/uncle and she unconsciously believes she is doing this--hence, she unconsciously 'experiences' the intercourse (that is, she effectively imagines it). Thus, the tease provides an opportunity for a certain organization of fantasy; but the organizing is done by preconscious ego processes in the service of the wish. (Perhaps we could refer to the provision of such teases as part of 'the work' of culture.) Here is the process in more detail.

When the entry of the fatherly god registers at the preconscious level, the overlap (the 'single conjunction') provided by the formal, structural identity between relevant primary and secondary forms of thought (for example, meta- phorically, both have to do with 'entry' by senior males) permits the reinforcement of the preconscious ego intention (entry of the god) by the unconscious wish--which is to be sexually entered by the father~uncle. But the reinforcement is achieved without the unconscious wish becoming conscious (there is not, in fact, 'any change...in its repression'). This is because the formal identity between the pertinent forms of primary and secondary thought obviates the need

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for the wish to become conscious. Instead, we have the 'repressed activity' being the unconscious end of the mind's use of the metaphor (quod est, the 'fatherness' of it); while the other end of it results from the mind's figurative exploitation of the metaphorical cultural tease (quod est, that 'fatherly' gods enter your body). 14 Hence, the overlap comes into being through the wishful utilization of identical features of primary and secondary process thought. In our case, the evidence for this is that of all the gods or natiyas who could enter Pemavati, it was her 'uncle' thatfirst did.

Pemavati thus enjoys an important degree of generalized gratification by the alignment of the teasing cultural form, the ego intention, and the fantasy. 15 The convergence produces a deeply felt and----objectively speaking---highly organized complex 16 that is held together at the unconscious, preconscious, and conscious levels by the wishful metaphor, t7 Thus, not only is the priestess granted the ability to function in what can be termed a 'specially perfect' manner, but also--- in her supportive and rewarding social context--she enjoys (not surprisingly) moments of utter bliss. ~s

It should be obvious that Abdin cannot exploit the cooperative overlap leading to specially perfect functioning. His preconscious 'ego intention' is to assert that the mother is a refuge; and this is also his inward directed attitude (with respect to his own mother). But the enticement he engages is the cruel K~li maniyo (mother), which cannot counter the effect of the terrifying Reyan- thumma representations. So, although there is some organization here (for example, in the attempt to master the fear by suffering it), the lack of consonance at critical points prevents his mind from using the cultural metaphor to reinforce the preconscious ego intention. Hence, he cannot be a 'specially perfect' purveyor of the protecting mother's divine power. On the other hand, and to repeat, Pemavati's unconscious fantasy is consonant with the enticement and with her ego intention, which helps her exercise extraordinary skill as a representative of the divine order.

DISCUSSION

Abdin and the priestess, like all humans, benefit from what Obeyesekere calls symbolic remove. But I cannot find persuasive evidence of disconnection in the experience of the priestess. Instead, in one sense and with regard to another sacred matter, I am reminded of the lamentation by Mary Douglas and Pope Paul regarding the watering-down of the message of the Eucharist. They both regret how the flesh and blood of it are overlooked (see Douglas 1970: 46-49).


In another respect, I miss the unvarnished 'wishfulness' of Weston La Barre's (1969) analysis of Beauregard Barefoot's religious behavior---even though there are serious problems t9 with this interpretation of a very successful 'ecstatic priest' (who was reared well within the cultural purview of the performance principle). Moreover, given my qualms regarding disconnection, La Barre's (1969: 169) claim that 'indulgence rather than therapy' characterizes his infor- mant's experience is an observation I would like to apply to Pemavati's case. And of course, I would hold that forbidden sexuality (not agape) is at the root of the problematic behavior of the priestess as well as of La Barre's priest.

CONCLUSION

But these plaints aside, the major disagreement here is an ontological one. Namely, to what extent is our experience really 'cultural,' or to what extent is the cultural only a version of us? (cf. Obeyesekere 1990: xix, 104). Obeyesekere pushes us to consider the possibility that culture (its 'work') can make us and remake us--that in a profound way our experience is really culture at work. Let me recall a few of his remarks in this regard: that fantasy ceases to be fantasy when it becomes publicly acceptable; that the necessity of fantasy is obviated when it is expressed in cultural form; that culture is ontologically different from dreams; that a culturally infused overdetermination of the meaning of behavior radically transcends and transforms the motivations that 'formerly' caused the behavior; and finally--if I can go into the second lecture--there is his complaint that the dominant form of Anglo-American anthropology shuns ontology (Obeyesekere 1981: 137, 1990: 27, 55, 63, 104).

I have discussed this last issue--the ontological one--as it applies to Obeye- sekere's cases; and in concluding I would like to return to it. One reason for doing this is that social science has been wary of ontological problems since Kant, so perhaps we should accept Obeyesekere's invitation to take them up. This is especially true in view of the fashionable theoretical nihilism of much postmodernism. A final reason is that even if my criticisms of Obeyesekere's interpretations are accurate, he may be right in this larger issue--he just picked bad examples. After all, radical cultural determinists and many other postmodernists would have us believe that each particular culture is ontologically 'authentic' and sui generis and that it produces unique creatures.

My first observation is that Obeyesekere's formulations flirt with the super- organic, which draws its principal rationale from the (basically Durkheimian) claims that the group precedes and outlasts any individual and that no indi-

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vidual contains within their mind the totality of their culture. Hence, we can conceptualize culture and society as patterns and processes that are independent of the individual minds that 'carry' them.

I find these maxims misleading. With regard to the first: granted that the death and birth of an individual almost never has any effect on their culture. But, let us extend the time frame and imagine two hypothetical 'tests' of this maxim. Let us take, say, a typical adult medieval peasant and plop him down on a Montana wheat farm in 1955. He probably would adapt, would he not? And, in time, he would probably feel more or less 'at home'; and the farmer and other hands would probably work out a modus vivendi with him, and some would perhaps even come to like him. Yet he would remember his earlier life and would probably sentimentalize some of it; and if he returned to it, he would both recognize it and be recognizable. His successful adaptation in either setting, and his nostalgia too, result from his having, in his individual being, certain panhuman predispositions and susceptibilities related to such things as altruism, alliance and friendship relations, dominance hierarchies, courting and sexual behavior, parenting behavior, competition, and so forth (more on these in a moment).

But notice that our case is 'Western' and purposefully so. For the other test is to take Carolingian feudalism, or Christendom, or some other 'culture' of the Western Middle Ages and try to graft it onto life in the same Big Sky country. Would it 'survive' with anything like the success of the transplanted individual? Of course not; for the cowboys and cowgirls would reject its hyper-religious worldview, its hierarchical roles, and so forth. So then, we may ask: 'In our Western (or in any other) context, just what outlives what'? It appears there is something intrinsic to individual human being--which is not trivial in its influence on behavior--that preexists and outlasts any particular culture. (Of course, every marginally successful Hmong immigrant in Seattle, for instance, or Norwegian fieldworker in Indonesia, makes the same point.)

Regarding the second piece of received wisdom: it is extremely dubious that fully assessing (if you could) the cultural knowledge of every single member of a culture would tell you what their culture is. Each and every point of culture is practically negotiable and, hence, is negotiable in principle. So it is as true now as it was decades ago that the lintel piece of a scientific inquiry into human life as it is lived must be the individual human ape (cf., e.g., Barth 1992; Sapir 1938; Spirt 1961). 20 This is quite different from asserting that culture is critical in producing reflexivity, in permitting escape from archaic motivations, in granting a surplus of meaning that can transcend archaic conflicts, and so on. The greatest weakness of these assertions, I submit, is that what matters is not what humans use (the cultured nature of it) but how it is used by individual


agents. For instance, if the central arbiter of change or constancy is what is used ('culture' doing its work) then Abdin would also enjoy progressive symbolic remove, for--like the priestess--he employs collective representations and other cultural symbols. 2~ But, as my interpretation shows, the way Abdin uses collective representations puts people off; whereas the priestess' use creates sustained, general positive regard. I think this difference in how cultural symbols are used helps explain why the priestess enjoys life more than Abdin and even why she seems to have gained distance from her archaic conflicts. 22

At base, both of these outcomes in our ecstatics' cases result from what happens to the human ape in its milieu, which may be cultural, and it may not be (it may be deviant, for example, or it may be idiosyncratically structured)--- but it is always Cultural. That is to say, it is a consequence of such panhuman, individual-centered, and interactionally expressed dynamics as:

1, Certain physical aspects of being: for example, physique, gesture, muscu- lature, smile, height, 'beauty,' vocal tone and loudness, agitation, and so on (see, e.g., Greenspan 1989).

2. Certain mental aspects of being: for example, intelligence, articulateness, creativity (see, e.g., F. G. Bailey's corpus); and in the psychoanalytic cupboard we also find transference, projection, condensation, displacement, and so on.

3. The most basic interactional aspects of being, which are expressed as elementary dominance, subordination, collusion, and seduction, and which rely on such things as aggressiveness, nurturance, coyness, intrusiveness, and so on (see, e.g., Greenspan 1989).

These dynamics are panhuman and serve as the human bridge between, say, Carolingian and American milieux. They are not necessarily enforced or enabled --much less are they created--solely by social structure or culture (although they are deeply influenced by these and are critical to the maintenance of both). They are quasi-independent forces, and among other things, they allow a person to violate, resist, or sabotage sociocultural forms. So they are as instrumental to the unruliness of the human ape as they are to its tractability.

We can follow a somewhat different line and arrive at the same conclusion by asking of Obeyesekere's construction of reflexivity: why should it matter to a person that an idea has philosophical or 'higher' cultural associations? There is nothing intrinsically valued about such things. If such associations should be found to matter then it is probably because the idea matters with respect to a significant other in the person's milieu or mattered to such a person in a past milieu. In the latter instance, the valorization has been internalized, and internalization does not require 'higher' cultural associations. In the former instance, the

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milieu may not be culturally constructed---or the fear of (or attraction to) the other may not be culturally determined.

In fact, it is difficult to see how--speaking ontologically--anthropology cannot end up focusing on the individual human ape; perhaps even to the point of culture playing third fiddle behind social interaction. This is because an individual can change--and against the cultural grain--and they can lie and cheat too (they even lie to themselves). 23 In short, there is no guarantee that what is widely recognized as cultural 24 will make a material difference in what is going on inside any particular human ape's mind. Whereas there is every assurance that the human ape will be thinking either 'inside' of, 'outside' of, or 'alongside' such collective representations. If it is an instance of 'inside' then culture is important; if not, then culture's importance depends on what is being thought (for example, how to violate a cultural stipulation in such a way as to reduce the chance of being caught, blamed, or punished--however, culture might sneak in here via standards of misconduct). But in this scenario as well, the ontologically independent status of culture is dubious.

THE LIMITING CONDITION OF ANTHROPOLOGICAL KNOWLEDGE

Perhaps 1 have made my point on this question of ontology. What 'exists'--that is, what our essential object of inquiry should be--is the working of the individual's mind. In making this point, I hope not to have obscured the fact that there is 'truth'; that whatever the cultural definition of 'robbery,' 'bank,' or 'money': Bill took the stuff, not Pam or Pemavati--that the religiosity of Abdin and/or Pemavati is disconnected from archaic wishes, or it is not. Scien- tific questions about such matters are not in the end answered ontologically but by adopting a methodology 25 and investigating them accordingly. The critical axis of any methodology is its epistemology, which again leads us to the human ape as our central object of analysis--for humans are essentially capable of knowing only their self (if even that). This claim has been deepened beyond methodological individualism; most importantly by Freud's effect on the human studies (see, e.g., Devereux 1967). When one comes up against this limiting condition one sees why (as Freud said) there are only two sciences: physical and psychological. The foremost conduit to knowledge in the former is mathematics. In the latter, it is, ] suggest, psychoanalysis because no other science is as equipped--methodologically and through a cumulative empirical record--to understand the process of knowing one's most potent impulses


(Devereux 1967: 295). -'6 Hence, I propose that methodology is the crux of any argument in the human

studies. It is not that ontology is shunned by Anglo-American anthropology but that ontology is not very contestable---or it is too contestable. After reaching Martin Heidegger's Dasein (Obeyesekere 1990: 104), or Jean-Paul Sartre's Being, or Edmund Husserl's Transcendent ego--whether at the end of an inquiry or by scrutinizing the beginning of it--where does a science go? Nowhere; these constructs are theoretical dead ends because they submit that an innermost core is a metaphysical essence. This is clarified by contrasting them with the psychoanalytic ego (or 'ego instinct,' to use the phrase Freud employed long before formulating the structural hypothesis). When one analyzes this construct, one breaks through into that which gives rise to human being: psychobiographical pressures, sociocultural constraints, and ultimately: the evolutionary conditions that molded into mind the parameters of its potential-- that is, what it can be, in partnership with influences in the milieux of childhood and adulthood.

This is not, as postmodernists might have it, a dissolving of the ego (or its representations of self) into other 'realities'; neither is it 'reductionistic' as social and cultural constructionists might claim. The ego is not reducible because of its synthetic, adaptive, and realistic nature. That is to say, it is not reducible to sociocultural forces because the individual has a psychobiography--certain important sequelae of which are significantly beyond the reach of ongoing social and cultural pressures; the ego is not reducible to these sequelae because it responds to rewards and punishments in the current milieu; and it is not reducible to the biopsychological conditions that constrain it because the selfish gene never was a child and does not have to be a parent; and so forth. In short, the ego is an authentic agent in its realm--which is contiguous to the bodily and external worlds, as well as to other psychic domains. The critical problem for the approach advocated here is that where the ego 'is' now, it will technically not be later because its equilibration of these constraints will be different. This is troublesome for any explanation of human life. But the core reality of human being is the 'hinged' quality of ego processes that swing the experience, decisions, and secrets of human life across a range of variation that often falls outside the reach of cultural or social analyses (cf. Devereux 1980a: 289).

Notes

1. Regrettably, three text errors occurred in Part II. They can be corrected as follows: (i) a phrase near the top of p. 328 should read 'pleasure offered by the reversed condi-


tions?'; (ii) on p. 330 'Paul' should not appear; and (iii) on p. 331 the first 's' in 'scientists' should be upper case to denote adherents of a religious denomination.

2. Freud does not describe the nature of any connection 'across' the split. Robert Lifton (1986) discusses a condition at the level of the self (doubling) that bears a resemblance to splitting. He says the connection between the two 'selves' is unconscious but goes little further than this.

3. Incidentally, these ego processes are related directly to what George Devereux calls the 'ethnic personality' (1980b: 17). But there is no room in this essay to discuss this promising theoretical avenue.

4. And in doing this it lays groundwork for the inner directed attitude. 5. Even at times when there is no past apparent, that is, in infancy, the 'past' is

evidenced by such things as the phylogenetically determined rooting response and the preference for faces--and smiling or attractive faces at that (see, e.g., Langois, Roggma, Casey, Ritter, Reiser-Danner, and Jenkins 1987).

6. Obeyesekere (1981) deals with these processes through such constructs as objectifi- cation, subjectification, subjective images, and personal and psychogenetic symbols.

7. It is the unconscious conviction that the wish will be, is being, and has been gratified (cf. Edelson 1988: 161-62, 180-83, 219; see also Part I, n.21).

8. Attributing complementarity to sociological and psychological explanations encour- ages reification of the former. It should, however, be noted that Devereux--a singularly astute observer and thinker--adhered to this methodological strategy for almost a quarter of a century. I think it is no accident that these years also marked the heyday of role theory. Devereux's complementarity comes almost as close to ascribing ontological status to 'the role' as Obeyesekere's disconnection comes to giving such status to culture. Here is a quote from the last page of Devereux's masterpiece From anxiety to method: 'Sociologically, she was a sufficiently good Mohave witch ("operant" [inside] motive) to have induced someone to murder her, even if she had not been also self- destructive ("instrumental" [outside] motive)' (1967: 328; emphasis added). Devereux's 'operant' versus 'instrumental' distinction is window dressing on the ontological state- ment being made--which is erroneous. We are not led into the deeper nature of this woman's death by concentrating on the role dynamics of the matter. Role dynamics killed no one; caused no suicide: the unfortunate Sahaykwisa would not have instigated her own murder unless she was, at the experiential level, very self-destructive. At the experiential level she is not the witch, she is Sahaykwisa who is much, much more than the role.

Now if an analysis explored the meaning, for her, of actions in her milieu, and in particular if it identified the meaning of the physical presence of those involved (both of which constitute much more than role behavior), then the explanation would be very revealing. This is because neither society nor culture, as such, has ever made anyone do anything (official intimidation possibly aside). Human apes use norms and values to do what they do because they, as individuals (who are much more than the role or the persona), are operating that way at that time. Culture and society are secondary operators (that is, they are always 'instrumental' in some way); hence, they are best seen as essen-


tially heuristic methodological concerns (cf. Barth 1992). I will return to this argument presently.

9. The fluidity and multifaceted nature of the relations between wish and imagination explain the marginal results of early anthropological attempts to link--in broad, substantial ways--cultural forms and childrearing patterns. These early analyses focused on variables that were simply too cumbersome to capture the subtle forces actually at work (see Devereux 1980b: 11). But the tentativeness or failure of these studies does not 'disprove' the sustained and highly significant effects of childhood experience on adult belief and behavior. The clinical record and the case study method both contain clear evidence of these effects. Whether anthropology will be able to develop the means to explore these effects with widely applicable 'objective' techniques is a matter for future research. But appreciating the complexity of the issue is critical to the success of any such endeavor. Symbolic anthropology and thick description are necessary initial steps in this approach.

10. You can identify a boat's maneuver as 'tacking' and a feeling as 'hate,' and you can even be absolutely certain about the suitability of these terms. But only a human can hate and sail (or design an automatic pilot).

11, This can be seen, for example, in Abdin's being able both to beg and to curse K,SIi and in the priestess' probable simultaneous conceptualization of her locks as follows: they are him (the god's lihgam), while they are me; and the same duality is found in her Arude--it is him (the natiya), and it is me.

12. We will continue to focus on Abdin's religious behavior because that is what Obeyesekere emphasizes. But the sociological dimension of Abdin's predicament and the cultural trap he is in because of his ethnicity cannot be overlooked. Obeyesekere (1981: 155, 1990: 10-11, 19-20) recognizes the importance of the former, and he discusses the latter. Together these constitute what Weber calls Abdin's 'life chances,' and whatever value our religious explanations may have, these fundamental determinants should be remarked because they have a significant effect on the ease or difficulty with which he realizes his potential in any respect.

13. See my remarks in Part II, p. 322, about a possible cause of the audience's disgust with Pemavati's performance.

14. In a pertinent discussion, Jacob Arlow (1969: 23-24) speaks of two 'projectors' playing upon the 'screen' of (part of) the mind; one projecting from the unconscious world, the other relaying information from the external world.

15. By the way, this formulation points to another illustration of the weakness of the claim that culture is ontologically very different from the dream; specifically, at the points in the mind where the tease meets the dreamed derivative of the wish: what is cultural, what is the dream?

16. Please note that this has little if anything to do with philosophizing, intellectual work, and high cultural values. These cultural elements are, we might say, at a distant symbolic and experiential remove from what is happening.

17. and this could perhaps be called part of 'the work' of the wish. 18. Please also note that my explication of this construct is not simply a rephrasing of


Obeyesekere's position regarding unconscious material coming out into open consciousness due to the work of culture or of it 'going' where that work can change it. In this formulation there is no hint of culture having ontological status, the individual's mind is put front and center, the unconscious material does not come out into consciousness, the mind does the work, and so on. More differences will become apparent presently.

19. For example, La Barre may exaggerate the extent of Barefoot's psychopathology. 20. Of course cultural and social analysis has much to say in this. But as I have said

with regard to culture, there is no such thing as the meaning of something, there is only its meaning for someone; and as for society, there is no normative behavior--however conforming--without a sufficiently willing and multi-intentioned agent.

21. Obeyesekere (1990: 14) seems to recognize this but does not develop it the way I do.

22. La Barre would say she has only unmastered them. In fact, from La Barre's perspective, Abdin is closer to coming to genuine terms with his archaic conflicts because the conflicts are much less comtbrtably secured in a sociocultural background. By 'genuine terms' La Barre (1969: 69) means implementing the solution to the conflicts via a confident and secure body image--that is, via a relationship with the body that is conscious, unfearful, and self-possessed--not simply via enjoying the consonance of one's beliefs with those of others.

23. There is a long tradition in American anthropology which holds that even cultural or social change is inexplicable without a focus on such individual-centered phenomena (see, e.g., Barnett 1953; Hallowell 1955; Sapir 1938; Spindler 1955; Wallace 1961).

24. For example, representations 'believed in,' or obeyed by, a plurality of group members ('collective representations') (cf. Part I, n.3).

25. which, admittedly, 'implies' an ontology but essentially leads to a 'discovery' of it.

26. I hasten to add that certain other approaches are beginning to make significant contributions to this line of study. Evolutionary psychology, for example, is particularly important in this respect (see, e.g., Barkow, Cosmides, and Tooby 1992).

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DAN W. FORSYTH is Professor of Anthropology at the University of Southern Colorado.

aatasattu and the future of psychoanalytic

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