Ethnographic Sorcery Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Harry G. West
words—ignorance, superstition—made me grimace. Thinking of Alves made me wonder if I had not detected sarcasm in Muedan accounts of him—indications that Muedans thought his claims as ridiculous as Sister Rosa Carla thought theirs.
Anthropologists have long searched for solid ground somewhere between the likes of Sister Rosa Carla and Senhor Alves—a position from which they might find sense in the worldviews of others without rendering their own views of the world nonsensical. E. E. Evans-Pritchard’s classic work, Witchcraft, Oracles and Magic among the Azande ([1937] 1976), constituted a landmark in this disciplinary endeavor. Evans-Pritchard argued that the “strange beliefs” of Azande could not be dismissed as irrational. On the contrary, he asserted, Azande beliefs were internally coherent and worthy of serious ethnographic consideration (150). Even so, he ultimately concluded that Azande cosmology rested on the foundation of an errant assumption that witches existed in the first place. From the confident vantage point afforded him by the methods of scientific research, Evans-Pritchard stated that, although they were rational, Azande, quite simply, were wrong. 4 His conclusion echoed the assessment made of Trobriand Islanders’ beliefs in magic by one of his professors, Bronislaw Malinowski: “subjectively true” but “objectively false” (in Tambiah 1990: 81). 5
Decades later, the anthropologist Paul Stoller would write, “The Songhay world challenged the basic premises of my scientific training” (Stoller and Olkes 1987: 227). In his treatment of Songhay sorcery, Stoller concluded, “Living in Songhay forced me to confront the limitations of the Western philosophical tradition” (227). 6 By contrast with Evans-Pritchard, Stoller determined, “For me, respect means accepting fully beliefs and phenomena which our system of knowledge holds preposterous” (229). Whereas the line dividing Evans-Pritchard from Sister Rosa Carla is fine, the line between Stoller and Senhor Alves may be finer. Stoller’s claims to have been, during his time in the field, not only the victim of sorcerers’ attacks but also the perpetrator were met with sarcastic derision from some of his critics within the discipline (e.g., Beidelman 1989; cf. Baum 1990; Denzin 1990; Jackson 1988; Twitty 1987). 7
As I spoke in the ARPAC seminar room, it seemed to me that Victor Turner blazed a suitable trail between Sister Rosa Carla and Senhor Alves. Turner’s work contributed to the development of a “symbolist approach” that gained currency in the discipline in the late 1960s (Morris 1987). Fundamental to the symbolist approach is what Kenneth Burke referred to as a shift away from treating “magical beliefs” as “bad science” and toward treating them as a form of “rhetorical art” (Burke 1969). John Beattie, in his discussion of the study of ritual, elaborated on this approach, proclaiming:
I ally myself squarely . . . with those who assert that ritual is essentially expressive and symbolic, and that it is this that distinguishes it from other aspects of human behaviour, and that gives rise to its characteristic problems. In this respect it is allied with art rather than with science, and it is susceptible of similar kinds of understanding. When we contemplate a work of art, we do not usually ask what use it is (although of course we may do so); we ask rather what it means, what are the ideas and values which it is intended to express? Like art, ritual is a kind of language, a way of saying things. 1966: 65) 8
Considering that Victor Turner defined a symbol as “a thing regarded by general consent as naturally typifying or representing or recalling something by possession of analogous qualities or by association in fact or in thought” (1967: 19, emphasis added), it comes as no surprise that anthropologists adopting the symbolist approach have sometimes conceived of their informants’ beliefs as metaphors.
Anthropologists have long searched for solid ground somewhere between the likes of Sister Rosa Carla and Senhor Alves—a position from which they might find sense in the worldviews of others without rendering their own views of the world nonsensical. E. E. Evans-Pritchard’s classic work, Witchcraft, Oracles and Magic among the Azande ([1937] 1976), constituted a landmark in this disciplinary endeavor. Evans-Pritchard argued that the “strange beliefs” of Azande could not be dismissed as irrational. On the contrary, he asserted, Azande beliefs were internally coherent and worthy of serious ethnographic consideration (150). Even so, he ultimately concluded that Azande cosmology rested on the foundation of an errant assumption that witches existed in the first place. From the confident vantage point afforded him by the methods of scientific research, Evans-Pritchard stated that, although they were rational, Azande, quite simply, were wrong. 4 His conclusion echoed the assessment made of Trobriand Islanders’ beliefs in magic by one of his professors, Bronislaw Malinowski: “subjectively true” but “objectively false” (in Tambiah 1990: 81). 5
Decades later, the anthropologist Paul Stoller would write, “The Songhay world challenged the basic premises of my scientific training” (Stoller and Olkes 1987: 227). In his treatment of Songhay sorcery, Stoller concluded, “Living in Songhay forced me to confront the limitations of the Western philosophical tradition” (227). 6 By contrast with Evans-Pritchard, Stoller determined, “For me, respect means accepting fully beliefs and phenomena which our system of knowledge holds preposterous” (229). Whereas the line dividing Evans-Pritchard from Sister Rosa Carla is fine, the line between Stoller and Senhor Alves may be finer. Stoller’s claims to have been, during his time in the field, not only the victim of sorcerers’ attacks but also the perpetrator were met with sarcastic derision from some of his critics within the discipline (e.g., Beidelman 1989; cf. Baum 1990; Denzin 1990; Jackson 1988; Twitty 1987). 7
As I spoke in the ARPAC seminar room, it seemed to me that Victor Turner blazed a suitable trail between Sister Rosa Carla and Senhor Alves. Turner’s work contributed to the development of a “symbolist approach” that gained currency in the discipline in the late 1960s (Morris 1987). Fundamental to the symbolist approach is what Kenneth Burke referred to as a shift away from treating “magical beliefs” as “bad science” and toward treating them as a form of “rhetorical art” (Burke 1969). John Beattie, in his discussion of the study of ritual, elaborated on this approach, proclaiming:
I ally myself squarely . . . with those who assert that ritual is essentially expressive and symbolic, and that it is this that distinguishes it from other aspects of human behaviour, and that gives rise to its characteristic problems. In this respect it is allied with art rather than with science, and it is susceptible of similar kinds of understanding. When we contemplate a work of art, we do not usually ask what use it is (although of course we may do so); we ask rather what it means, what are the ideas and values which it is intended to express? Like art, ritual is a kind of language, a way of saying things. 1966: 65) 8
Considering that Victor Turner defined a symbol as “a thing regarded by general consent as naturally typifying or representing or recalling something by possession of analogous qualities or by association in fact or in thought” (1967: 19, emphasis added), it comes as no surprise that anthropologists adopting the symbolist approach have sometimes conceived of their informants’ beliefs as metaphors.