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Levi-Strauss Interviewed, Part 1

Author(s): Didier EribonSource: Anthropology Today, Vol. 4, No. 5 (Oct., 1988), pp. 5-8Published by: Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and IrelandStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3032748

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of Romanianshave been moved into the Szekler capitalTirgu Mures (Marosvah6ly in Hungarian)in order tochange it into a Romanian town. Similar efforts arebeing made to transform he Transylvanian apital Cluj(Kolozsvar), where Hungariansnow account for onlyone-third of the population. Even non-Romanian geo-graphicalandpersonal names arenow forbidden.A forced ideological industrialization rogramme,an-nounced to the world by Ceausescu in a speech on 3March,which replaces villages with industrial ocietiesin miniature, s one of the weapons used to assist in theassimilation of national ethnic minorities. When vil-lages are destroyed, an area loses its local characteris-tics, since the concrete tower blocks which replacethem can be found anywhere, and the inhabitantsarenot necessarilyrehoused n the same area. Communitiesare sometimes dispersed. Thus architecture alsobecomes a political weapon since, as Gavin Stamppoints out, it is easier to control an urbanized semi-proletariativing in flats; the peasants are cut off fromtheirhomes and from the land.

In the springof last year, Romaniapublicly attachedHungary or 're-establishingHorthy'sfascist and chau-vinistic thesis'. The reference was to A History ofTransylvaniain three volumes, which had just beenpublished.ZoltanSzasz, one of the co-editors,believesthe criticismwas an attempt o raisenationalistic senti-ment and to divertattentionfrom the economic declineof Romania. Thus accordingto the latest information,Kolozsvzar and Brasov, two large cities, are virtuallyunlit at night, andtherewas a typhoid epidemic in Bra-sov in Spring1987, due to the city's pollutedsewers.The Hungarian authorities, for their part, have re-sponded by breakingthe traditional silence regardingthe problemsof theirminorityin Romania. On 20 Au-gust, the 950th anniversaryof the death of St Stephen,founder of Hungary, Imre Pozsgay of the HungarianPolitburo criticized Romanian policies as 'incom-prehensible and idiotic' and 'a shame to socialism'.Matyas Szuros, Secretaryof the CentralCommittee,hasdenounced Romania's actions on Radio BudapestandIsvanNemeskuirtywritesin Hungarian Quarterly: Thissituation has become so distressingthat the Romaniangovernmentmay sooner or later be accused of ... de-

liberate cultural genocide and forcible assimilation.'The Hungarianauthoritieshave permitted and reportedpublic demonstrations uch as that which took place inBudapeston 27 June 1988, which included a march tothe RomanianEmbassy. Ceausescurespondedby clos-ing the HungarianConsulate n Cluj.The conclusion of the InternationalHelsinki Feder-ation for HumanRights ReportS.O.S. Transylvania sthatthe Hungarianminority n Romania s the victim ofsuppressionaimed at assimilation:The rights of the Hungarianminority n Romania,the most

numerous national minority in Europe, are assured notonly by the Helsinki Accords and the UN Conventions,butalso by the Romanianconstitution,bilateralagreementsbe-tween Hungaryand Romania, and the Treaty of Paris afterthe last World War. Because of this, the fate of the Hunga-rians in Romaniais not simply a domesticRomanian mat-ter.

TheEconomist, n a recentissue, points out that WestGermany, whose own ethnic minority in Romania isbadly affected, is the only westerncountryto have ob-jected publicly.1 This is disgraceful. Anthropologists,ethnologistsand folklorists must speak out if our gov-ernments will not. The Economist believes that interna-tional ridicule of Ceausescu, known for his vanity,might have some effect in slowing down the process.And Ceausescu is no longer young. Amnesty Interna-tional has found that its campaignsof letter-writingandpeacefuldemonstrationshave been effective in securingthe release of prisonersof conscience in many cases.Meanwhile the destructioncontinues. In the last fewyears 10,000 ethnicHungarianshave fled fromRoman-ia to theirmotherland,he first time that one communistcountry has accepted refugees on this scale from an-other. LastyearHungarysigned a westernresolution onminority rights at the Human Rights Conference inVienna. In the words of Laszl6 CardinalPaskai,Arch-bishop of Esztergomand Primate of HungarianCatho-lics: 'These villages are not just small settlements ofrelatively few people. They also constitute an integralpart of a country.They are homes of unique nationalvalues and of folk culture.'

VenetiaNewall

1. As we go to press, itis reportedTimes,21September)hat Britainandthe USA have nowalso protested o theRomanianGovernment. ditor.

Levi-Straussnterviewedby Didier Eribon - Part 1We are pleased to publishhere two extracts inEnglishtranslation romDe Pres et de Loin (afurthertwo extracts will bepublished in our Decemberissue), to mark the 80thbirthdayof ClaudeLevi-Strausson 28November next. This is aninterview n bookformpreparedby Didier Eribon,a journalist with LeNouvel Observateur,publishedat 89F byEditionsOdile Jacob,Paris, who have kindlygranted uspermissionto

D.E. Was your family very much involved with thearts?C.L.-S. Yes, this was quite atavistic! My great-grandfather, the father of my mother's father, wascalled Isaac Strauss. Born in 1906 in Strasbourg, he'made it' very young in Paris. He was a violinist andhad got together a little orchestra. He played a part inmaking the music of Beethoven, Mendelssohn andsome others better known. In Paris, he worked withBerlioz, who mentions him in his memoirs; and alsowith Offenbach, for whom he wrote some of his fa-mous quadrilles. We knew Offenbach by heart in myfamily; his music lulled my whole childhood.

Straussbecame conductorfor court balls at the endof the reign of Louis-Philippe.Then under NapoleonIII, organizerof the Casino at Vichy, which he ran for a

long time. Afterwards,he succeeded Musard in chargeof balls at the Op6ra.He was at the same time a sort ofCousin Pons, with a passion for antiques, in which hetraded.

D.E. Did your family keep any of them?C.L.-S. There was a largecollection of Jewish antiq-uities which is now in the Mus6e de Cluny. A numberof objects which passed through his hands were ac-

quired by benefactors who gave them to the Louvre.Whateverremainedwas sold on his death or shared outbetween his daughters.The remainder was looted bythe Germansduringthe Occupation.I still have a fewpieces of d6bris: such as the bracelet that Napoleon IIIoffered my great-grandmothero thank her for hospi-tality at the Villa Strauss in Vichy. This Villa Strauss,where the emperor stayed, still exists. It has become a

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baror a restaurant, don't rememberexactly, but it haskept the name.D.E. Was the memory of that past transmitted ntofamily tradition?

C.L.-S. Certainly,for it was the family's most glori-ous period: they were near the throne! My great-grand-father used to visit Princesse Mathilde. My paternalfamily lived amid memories of the Second Empire.They also stayed close to it; as a child, I saw with myown eyes EmpressEug6nie.D.E. You have told me that your father was apainter.C.L.-S. Yes, and two of my uncles as well. Prosper-ous to startwith, my paternalgrandfatherdied a ruinedman. So that one of his sons - he had four boys and agirl - had to work very hard to help his family.

My fatherwas placed in the Ecole des Hautes EtudesCommerciales.At the beginning of his active life, hestartedto work at the Stock Exchangein a humble ca-pacity.There he got to know Kahnweiler[dealerfor theleading cubists]and they became friends. As soon as hecould, he turned o paintingwhich he hadbeen passion-ately fond of since childhood.

My father and my mother were first cousins. InBayonne [whereLevi-Strauss'smother was broughtup]my mother's eldest sister marrieda painterwho had hishourof celebrity,HenryCaro- Delvaille; anothersistermarrieda painter,GabrielRoby, who was Basque. Forhim, life was even more difficult than for my father:hishealth was fragile andhe died young.Was it on account of their family relationshipor be-cause of connections between paintersthatmy parentsgot to know each other?I don't know.

In any case, my motherwas living in Parisbefore hermarriage, or some of the time with the Caro-Delvaillefamily. She learnt shorthand yping so as to become asecretary.

D.E. Your father did not earn much money in hiscareeras a painter.C.L.-S. Less and less, as the tastes of the public

changed.D.E. So your childhood was not thatof a son of theParisianbourgeoisie?

C.L.-S. It was, as regardsculture,for we lived in anartistic milieu; my childhood was very rich intellec-tually.But we contendedwith materialdifficulties.

D.E. Do you have precisememories of this?C.L.-S. I remember he panics that could sometimes

arise when therewere no more commissions. Then myfather,who was a great handyman, nventedall sorts oflittle crafts for himself. At one time, the householdem-barkedon printing abrics.

We engravedlinoleum-blocks,we coated solids witha paste that was spreadonto velvet so that multi-col-oured metallic powders, scatteredon top of it, wouldstick.D.E. And you took part n these activities?C.L.-S. I even createdthe patterns!There was an-otherperiodwhen my father made little tables in imita-tion lacquerin the Chinese style. He also made lampswith inexpensive Japanese prints stuck onto the glass.Anything was all right so as to pay the monthly bills.D.E. Have you kept some picturesby him?

C.L.-S. Few, because as a result of the plunderingthat went on, my parents were left with nothing at theend of the war;not even a bed...D.E. You have spoken of the collection of Jewishantiquitiesbuilt up by your great-grandfather. ad yourparentsmaintaineda religious commitment?

C.L.-S. My parents were complete unbelievers. But

my mother,the daughterof a rabbi, had grown up in adifferentatmosphere.D.E. Did you know your grandfather, he rabbi?C.L.-S. Very well. I lived in his house during thefirst war. My mother and sisters had settled down there

with their childrenwhile their husbands were on activeservice.

D.E. Apart from the short period when you livedwith your grandfather,you were brought up in a non-religious atmosphere,but the Jewish traditionwas per-haps present there in spite of everything?

C.L.-S. Not without hitches. My paternal grand-motherwas still a practisingJew. However, on that sidetherelay dormanta touch of madness which showed it-self sometimes tragically, sometimes comically. Onebrotherof my father's, obsessed with biblical exegesisand not quite right in the head, committedsuicide; thatwas when I was three. Well before my birth, anotherbrotherof my father's had himself ordained as a priestto take revenge on his parentsas a result of a quarrel.For a time, the family counted among its number anAbbe L6vi... I rememberhim much later, a junior em-ployee of the gas company, always in his best bib andtucker,with a blondcurled-upmoustache, smugly satis-fied with his personand his condition.

On my mother'sside, my grandfatherhe rabbi was aholy man of a self-effacing disposition, in whose houseone observedthe rites scrupulously.Three or four yearsrunning, I attended all the festivals. As for his wife,even theirdaughtersdoubted that she had the faith. AtBayonne, she had them schooled in the convent be-cause it was the best establishment.The elder daughterpreparedfor Sevres [an Ecole Normale Sup6rieure orwomen] or even went there (I'm not sure which anymore) at a time when orthodoxpeople in the provincesthought that S6vriennes were she-devils. The rabbi'swife had broad deas!

Although unbelievers,my parentsstill remainedcloseto the Jewish traditionof their childhoods.They didn'tcelebrate the festivals, but they spoke about them. AtVersailles, I was put through my barmizvah,withoutany reasons being invoked other than not causing of-fence to my grandfather.

D.E. You've never been worriedby religious feel-ings?C.L.-S. If by religion you mean a relationshipwith apersonalGod, never.

Below: an extract rom chapter16, 'Raceet Politique'D.E. In 1952, with the text entitled Race et histoire,you left the perspectiveof pure social anthropology o

position yourself at the level thatcan be called 'politi-cal', which touched in any case directlyon contempor-ary problems.

C.L.-S. It was a commission. I don't think I wouldhave written hat workmyself on my own initiative.D.E. How did this commission arise?C.L.-S. UNESCO asked a number of authors towrite a series of booklets on the racial question: Michel

Leiris was one, I was another...D.E. There you affirm the diversity of cultures, you

put in question the idea of progress, and you proclaimthe necessity of 'coalition' between cultures...C.L.-S. In general, I was seeking a way to reconcilethe notion of progresswith culturalrelativism. The no-

tion of progress implies the idea that certain cultures,atgiven times or in given places, are superior to others,because they have produced works which those othershave shown themselves incapable of. And culturalrela-

reproduce he extracts.Levi-Strauss pentmost of his childhood nParis in the 16tharrondissement. he irstextract,fromchapter1,'D'Offenbach Marx',describeshis amilybackground.We thenjump to part of Chapter16, 'Race et politique',which ocuses on thecontroversyn whichLevi-Strauss ecameinvolved n the 1970s asan eminent ocialanthropologist ndinfluential ntellectual.In the two concludingextracts o bepublishedin December,we havefirst a glimpse ofLevi-Strauss'sNew Yorkperiod duringtheSecondWorldWar,andsecondlya discussion ofthe structureand plan ofMythologiques,Le'vi-Strauss's mbitiousfour-volumework on theanalysis of SouthAmericanand NorthAmerican ndianmyth.De Pres et de Loincan be stronglyrecommended s awhole..The three inalchapterscoverLe'vi-Strauss'shoughtson literature,paintingand music.ClaudeLevi-Strausswas Professorat theCollegede Francefrom1959 to 1982, and sincethen has beenHonoraryProfessor.His manyhonours ncludemembership f theAcademieFran(aisesince 1973 andHonoraryFellowship oftheRAI,whichalsoawarded him theHuxleyMemorialMedal in1965.The translationofthese extractsis byJonathanBenthall.? Editions OdileJacob, September1988.

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tivism, which is one of the bases of anthropologicalthought- at least in my generation and the one beforeit (for it is challenged by some people today) - con-tends that there can be no absolute criterion orjudgingone culture as superior to another.I tried to shift theproblem's centre of gravity.

If at certain times and in certain places, some cul-tures 'move' while others 'don't move', this is not, Isaid, because of the superiorityof the former,but be-cause historical or geographicalcircumstanceshave en-gendereda collaborationbetween culturesthat are notunequal (nothing permitssuch an evaluation)but differ-ent. They begin to move by borrowingfrom one an-other or by seeking to oppose one another.They fer-tilize or stimulate one another mutually;Whereas atotherperiods or in other places, cultures which stay iso-lated, as if in a closed world of theirown, experienceastationaryife.

D.E. This text has become a classic of anti-racism,and is even read in secondaryschools. Is it in reactionagainst this vulgate thatyou prepareda second text in1971,this time entitled 'Race et culture'?

C.L.-S. That also arose from a UNESCO com-mission, for a solemn conferencedesigned to inaugur-ate an international earof struggle againstracism.

D.E. You have said aboutwhathappened, This'textcauseda scandal and that was its aim!'C.L.-S. Which was perhaps a little strong... Onething is certain:it did make a scandal,in UNESCO inany case. Twenty years after Race et histoire, theyasked me to speak againaboutracism,probablyexpect-ing thatI would repeatwhat I had alreadysaid. I don'tlike to repeat myself, and above all, many things hadhappenedduringthose twenty years,one of thembeing,as far as I was concerned, a growing annoyance pro-voked by periodic displays of good feelings, as if thatalone could be enough.

It seemed to me on the contrary irst that racial con-flicts could only get worse, and second that, in theminds of the public, a confusion was being createdaroundnotions such as racism and anti-racism;andthatby dint of widening them in an ill- considered way,people were feeding racism instead of weakeningit.D.E. You were speakingthis time of the differencesthat separateand oppose cultures. Which ran againstthe grainof yourearlierspeech.C.L.-S. Not at all. People didn't read the earliertext,or only half of it. One critic, writingI thinkin L'Huma-nite [the French Communist newspaper], wanted toprove that I had changed my position, and he quotedalong passage from 'Race and culture' in support.Ac-tually, this passage had already appeared n Race andhistory. As it seemed well phrasedto me, I used my

own text again.D.E. What was most shocking in 'Race and culture'was perhaps he idea which you advanced, thatcultures

want to oppose one another.C.L.-S. At the end of Race and history, I emphas-ized a paradox. It is the difference between cultureswhich makes their meeting fertile. Now this interactionbrings about progressive homogenization: the benefitswhich cultures draw from these contacts derive to a

great extent from their qualitative separation,but in thecourse of theirexchanges, these separationsdiminish tothe point of disappearing.Is that not what we are wit-nessing today? By the way, this idea that during theirevolution cultures tend towards a growing entropywhich results from their mixing - presented in a textwhich you said just now had become a classic of anti-racism, and thatdelights me - comes in a straight inefrom Gobineau, though he is denounced as a father ofracism. Which goes to show the disorder in people'smindsat the presenttime.The views of Gobineauhave, moreover,a very mod-em tinge, for he realized that little islands of order canform, by means of the effect thathe called - and this isvery modern too - 'a correlationin the different partsof the structure'. He gave examples. These successfulequilibriabetween mixtures contribute,as he saw, tomilitateagainsta decline which he saw as irreversible.

What can be concluded from that, except that it isdesirable for cultures to maintaintheir diversityor forthem to be renewed in theirdiversity? Only - and thisis whatmy second text pointedout - one must agree topay the price: that is to say, that cultures attached totheir own respectivelife-styles and value-systemskeepan eye on theirparticularities: nd that this dispositionis healthy, not at all pathologicalas some would haveus believe. Each culture develops thanks to its ex-changes with other cultures. But each one must put upa certain resistance, otherwise very quickly it wouldhave no more to exchangewhich belongedto it specifi-cally. Absence of and excess of communication arebothdangerous.D.E. How do you explain thatyour 1952 text was sosuccessful and not the second?

C.L.-S. The first was publishedas a little book; theother,a lecture,has never appearedon its own. And ifthe first was judged orthodox but the second book not,I cannot help it: they form a whole. I would add thatthe second text, where I tried to introduce the conclu-sions of populationgenetics, is more difficult to read.Alreadynow with Race and history, every year school-children come to see me, write to me or telephonemesaying 'We have an essay to write and we understandnothing!'

D.E. What would you do if UNESCO were to askyou today for a new lecture on the same subject?

C.L.-S. There's no danger!D.E. But newspapersand the radio often ask youradvice on the questionof racism and on the whole yourefuse to reply...C.L.-S. I don't want to reply because, in this field,there is total confusion, and because whatever I saywill, I know in advance,be misinterpreted.

As a social anthropologist, am convinced thatracisttheoriesare both monstrous and absurd.But in makingthe notion of racism commonplace, in applying it atrandom, people empty it of content and risk ending upat a result which is the opposite of what they want. Forwhat is racism? A precise doctrine, which can besummed up in fourpoints. First, that a correlationexistsbetween genetic heritage on the one hand and intellec-

e:i - ~~~~~~1

Claude Levi-Strauss,photographedrecentlyby Louis Monier.

ClaudeLe'vi-StraussnOxfordto receive anhonorarydoctorate, 6June 1964.

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tual aptitudes and moral dispositions on the other. Sec-ond: that this heritage on which the aptitudes and dis-positions are held to depend is common to all the mem-bers of certain human groups. Third: that these groupscalled 'races' can be hierarchized in terms of thequality of their genetic heritage. Fourth: hat these dif-ferences authorize those 'races' held to be superior tocommand and exploit others, maybe to destroy them.The theory and the practice are indefensible for a num-ber of reasons which, following other authors or at thesame time as them, I set out in 'Race and culture' withas much vigour as in Race and Histoiy. The problem ofrelationships between cultures is situated on anotherlevel.

D.E. So that, in your eyes, hostility felt by one cul-ture towards another s not racism?

C.L.-S. Yes it is, if it is active hostility. Nothing canauthorizeone culture to destroyor even to oppressan-other. Such negation of other people has inevitablytorely on transcendentreasons: those of racism, or equi-valent reasons. But it is a fact which has always existedthat cultures, while respecting one another, can feelmore or less affinity with one another. That is a normof human behaviour. In denouncing it as racist, onerisks playing the enemy's game, for many naive peoplewill say to themselves 'Well, if that is racism, I am aracist'.You know how attracted am by Japan.If in Paris,in the underground, see a couple that seems to beJapanese, I will look at them with interest and sym-pathy, readyto do them a service. Is that racism?

D.E. If you look at them with sympathy, no; but ifyou had told me 'I look at them with hatred'I wouldhave replied, yes.C.L.-S. And yet, I based my reaction on physicalappearance,behaviour, the sound of the language. Indaily life, everyone does the same to place an unknownperson on the geographic map... A lot of hypocrisywould be needed to try andoutlaw this kind of approxi-

mation.D.E. Are therephysical appearanceswhich generateantipathy n you?C.L.-S. You mean ethnic types? No, certainly not.They all include sub-types, some of which seem attrac-tive to us, others not. In some Indian communities inBrazil,I felt surrounded y beautifulindividuals;others

seemed to offer me the spectacle of a degraded hu-manity. The Nambikwara women seemed to me ingeneralmore beautifulthan the men; the opposite wasthe case with the Bororo. Making such judgments,weapply the canons of our culture.But the only valid ca-nons in the circumstancesare those of the people con-cerned.In the same way, I belong to a culture which has adistinctivelife-style andvalue-system,so thatvery dif-ferent culturesdo not attractme automatically.

D.E. You don't like them?C.L.-S. That would be saying too much. If I studythem as a social anthropologist, do it with all the ob-

jectivity and indeed all the empathyof which I am ca-pable.That doesnit preventcertain culturesfromhittingit off less easily than otherswith my own.

EngenderingnowledgeThe politics of ethnography Part 1 - to be concluded)PATCAPLANThis artic e is based onthe secondAudreyRichardsMemorialLecture deliveredatRhodes House, QAford,on 18 May. We arepublishingit in twoparts, of which thesecond, largelyconcerned withanthropologyandfeminism,will appear inthe December issue.Dr Caplanstarted bysaying that AudreyRichards(1899-1984)had been a 'living prooffor women studentsofher generationthat'women could be andweregoodanthropologists'.ShementionedRichards'spresidentialaddress tothe AfricanStudiesAssociation in 1967,whichrecalled what it

EthnographyA poem written by R.D. Laing captures the mood ofthe postmodemist,reflexive era:

The theoreticaland descriptive diomof much research in social scienceadoptsa stance of apparent 'objective'neutrality.But we have seenhow deceptivethis can be.The choice of syntaxand vocabulary s a political actthat defines and circunmscrbes the manner n which facts'are to be experienced.Indeed, in a senseit goesfurtherand even creates the acts that are studiedThe 'data' (given) of researchare not so much givenas takenout of a constantlyelusive matrixof happenings.We shouldspeak of captaather than data.Thequantativelynterchangeablegristthat goes into the millsof reliabilitystudiesand ratingscalesis the expressionof a processing that we do onr-ealitynot the expressionof theprocesses of reality.(inWeaver 973)

Within anthropology,much attention s currently o-

cused upon ethnographyand definitions of it as a formof knowledge. Roy Ellen suggests that it has manymeanings- at one and the same time, it is somethingwe do/study/use/read/and write (1984:7). Ethnographylies at the boundary of two systems of meaning andraises the question, how do we translateanotherculturethrough the vehicle of our own language? This in turntakes us back to the oft-debatedquestion - what is cul-ture itself? Increasingly,it has been seen as manufac-tured, both by informantsand anthropologists, and inthe process, as contested. The protagonists n this con-test are the ethnographer, he subjects/informants, ndthe audience/reader. shall deal with each of these inturn.

How do we represent another culture - can we?should we? What is the ethnographer?Archivist, trans-lator, midwife, writerof fiction, trickster,bricoleur,in-quisitor, and intellectual tourist (see various contribu-tors to Clifford 1986) are just some of the recent sug-gestions. The standardmonographwhich has charac-terizedBritish and American social anthropology or somany years has come in for some heavy criticism.Aside from the fact that,as many have pointedout, it isusually extremelyboring,it also fails to include the ob-server in its analysis: the ethnographerappearsbrieflyin the preface, as if to establish the authorityandcredi-bility of having actually 'been there',but thenpromptlydisappearsfrom the main text. This means that his or

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