Santa Claus and gift exchange

Only 2 essays to go! I've just finished writing my essay on gift exchange and what it can tell us about society.

After reading (parts) of Marcel Mauss' 'The Gift', Malinowski's infamous ethnography on the Trobriand Islanders, 'Argonauts of the Western Pacific', works of John Davis and the deconstruction of Christmas by various anthropologists (I will never see Christmas in the same way), I hope I've done a good job of the subject that is routinely explored by every anthropology student.

The funny thing is that my tutor asked us to exercise an example of gift-exchange, make notes on it, and bring it to the tutorial. By chance, a childhood friend visited the other day while he was in town, and as a guest I'd bought him dinner and ice-cream. I didn't see this as a gift because I didn't expect or want anything in return; it was, anthropologically an act of 'charity' (though I obviously didn't see him as a charity case!) How surprised I was to find he'd left for my at the lodge a bunch of flowers! As part of the gift-exchange system, this was a reciprocation of the 'gift' of dinner and ice-cream he'd accepted.

The basis of the gift exchange system is that it is a universal activity, and occurs according to Marcel Mauss' 3 obligations:

1. The giving of a gift
2. The acceptance of a gift
3. Reciprocity of a gift

Building on this, you have to distinguish between 'gift' and 'commodity' exchange. A commodity is traded for monetary value, and according to Mauss, 'to make a gift of something to someone is to make a present of some part of oneself.' (Mauss [1925]1990:12) i.e. you have to transfer part of your identity with the gift, otherwise it's just an object or a commodity without any meaning. It's this meaning that makes it the gift.

Malinowski describes the kula, which is the gift-exchange of necklaces and bracelets, each going a certain direction around the Trobriand islands in a circular circuit (Mauss translates 'kula' as circle). (If you wanted to know, the necklaces are called soulava and are made from red shell; the bracelets are called mwali and made of white shell). This process is reserved for men, in particular nobles.  Kula members have temporary possession of these prized items. But in the end, after a year or so at most, they have to pass them on. This is obligatory, because otherwise conflict and warfare could emerge, according to Malinowski and Mauss.

The Maori of Samoa, according to Mauss, believe objects like this contain a spiritual power, the hau, which arises from previous possessions of the object, and it's this symbolic force that means people fear it that they oblige to reciprocity. I likened examples like these to contemporary capitalist societies, like American society at Christmas. Although many buy commodities as gifts, the act of transforming it by altering it, or wrapping it up, means we can convey a sense of our identity through the object, like the hau in Maori. The fact we've specially selected this item from a homogenised mass of objects in a shop also signifies that the object is special. In fact, in the time you bought it, wrapped it and given it, you've had temporary possession of that object, familiarising yourself with it. (Carrier, in Miller's 'Unwrapping Christmas 1993). The act of Christmas shopping is a ritual, as is wrapping, much like the ritual of kula or potlatch.

Potlatch is a gift-exchange in North America where exchanged and prized objects are destroyed to show power, but the point is that the act helps one to form a social status or hierarchy, as in the case of the Tlingit and Haida. It's an act of class struggle. You could argue the same is true in other societies, where buying objects for others actually just conceals the desire for material wealth.

The desire for material wealth can arise from conspicuous consumption. This is the idea that objects display your material wealth and thus a status of being economically better off, which is perceived in desirable in a capitalist society. I found evidence for this in Japan, where Tiffany jewellery in the 1990s was the epitome of showing your love romantically. The fact it's recognisable and visual is arguably an act of conspicuous consumption, or even insidious consumption (to provoke envy). Even temporarily possessing these items as intended gifts for someone else, satisfies the temptation of actually having bought the gift yourself, Belk might argue. (Belk, in Miller's 'Unwrapping Christmas', as before). Belk says that at Christmas, adults take over from their parents as Santa, becoming this figure as an excuse to buy themselves things that they desire.

But that's a pretty cynical view of Christmas and dismisses sentiment as the reason for giving gifts, and the example of a Trinidadian Christmas by Miller later in the book shows that materialism doesn't solely prevail in all societies in festivals. Ritual and symbolism can account for a lot, as the Trinidadian custom of giving your house a good ol' clean and paint is one what a lot of money goes towards at Christmas. Besides, gift exchange is just one aspect of Christmas.

I do like what David Mitchell has to say on British gift exchange. He's very funny, very aware of social "awkwardness", and gets himself into a tizz at the end, just like I first did trying to structure my essay.

Trains, aboriginals and rocks (space and landscape)

I haven't been updating for a few days because I've just had to study for and write two essays in a very busy week of rowing preparation. It's Torpids week at the river Isis, which means I've been racing 'bumps' today and will be everyday til Saturday; then I can relax... until the Women's Head of the River Race (WeHORR) next weekend in London. Busy busy busy!

All this rowing doesn't mean to say I haven't enjoyed reading and writing for the essays. I just got one back on space, place, and landscape for anthropology - was so pleased to see my tutor really liked it! The question was whether space and landscape were cultural constructions. I argued that they shouldn't be dichotomised as either 'cultural' or 'natural' (a very debated topic in the "nature-culture debate"). Instead, after reading the books and articles, and being especially influenced by Corsin Jiménez's article on space in Antofagasta in Chile, I argued that space is a temporal pathway in relation to social relationships. If this sounds a bit crazy, it's probably because it is, but after reading theories written in the 1990s on space, place and landscape like Tilley, Bender, Hirsch and O'Hanlon, it probably won't sound so silly!

The idea is that space and landscape are not merely geographical locations. We see the world around us as how we perceive it, and create our own spaces (like houses, churches) which create, and are simultaneously created by, social relationships. A lot of people see landscape as an idyllic, picturesque rural scene, and it's not hard to see why: the word 'landscape' originates from the word 'landshap'(Dutch) via 'landskip'(English) used in Dutch paintings in the 17th century. It's been passed down over time, and is still used today when people say they're a 'landscape painter' or a 'landscape photographer' and produce idealised scenes. Barbara Bender used the example of a British Rail intercity poster, which likened English landscape art to the view out of a train window.

Now if you take the train regularly into any major town or city in Britain, you will have probably noticed that not everything you see is aesthetically pleasing. In fact, the space of the train compartment may not be either. Someone talking on the phone, the seats are a bit grotty... But the train itself is a landscape. The seats have been worn down by the passage of other human beings; you're travelling the same route as many other people. You could compare this to an Aboriginal landscape, where parts of the rocks and ground have been worn away by the passage of other people; you're walking in a pathway your ancestors made. The relations you make along this past with living, or past, peoples arguably creates the landscape at the same time as you create it. It's this pathway you travel that becomes the space or landscape; it's not entirely physical, as it occurs through time too. I proposed that the more you travel on this pathway, the more landscape is created, and the more it creates your social relations.

Obviously, you could say I'm being too airy-fairy, and that a rock is a rock. That's it; no more. But Aboriginal Australians certainly don't think Ayers rock is just a rock! They and anthropologists might ask: But doesn't this rock change over time? Does your view of this rock change over time? It's a very interesting question. I think I'll wrap it up; I've spent too long writing, and the space I've created is far too long.

Cognitive archaeology and clever chimps

The archaeology of human thought and intelligence was the subject of my lecture this morning.  Moving on from the functionalist processual approach of Binford in the 1960s (sort of a mathematic, scientific approach to archaeology), people started to consider how to reconstruct the ancient mind.  We looked at Paleolithic toolkit developments, cognitive evolution, and Mithen's theory of cognitive 'modularity', which suggests that at one point in time our brains switched from thinking from modular thinking (i.e. like a monkey seeing a 
python as dangerous, but not linking fresh python tracks to the possibility of danger), to our brains being an information processor.

Mithen's idea has since been refuted by archaeologists, but it's a very good question: how did our brains come into being today, and are they similar to our ancient people's brains? In what respects did they think like us, and how did it differ? A few days ago I saw this programme on iplayer:


In the video, Ayumu the chimpanzee is challenged to memory tests that get as hard as memorising a set of number faster than the blink of an eye.  This got me wondering; how can a chimpanzee have the ability to do this more successfully than the average human? Is it a physical difference in brain function (such as being able to see the numbers for longer because of neural passage from the eye to the brain being wired differently or 
being more adept than ours); or was a cultural difference, such as the fact that for us numbers are associated with meaning - Ayumu may see the numbers as shapes, and so can process the numbers without the associations our minds have with them?

There is the question of training to the programme, but in such a short space of time I doubt many humans or chimpanzees would be able to improve from practise, and if there is an element of luck to Ayumu's success, it is probably minimal in comparison with skill. Either way, I feel very forgetful in comparison. Perhaps we shouldn't be so quick to think ourselves as more clever than our hominidae fellas that share a large percentage of our DNA.

Paleolithic cave art lecture

Very excited when I got to my lecture today to find it was on Paleolithic cave art. I studied it a little bit for my art A level, which involved me meticulously etching this Trois-Frères cave scene:

At this site, the painting of 'The Sorcerer' can be found. You can see the original, below on the left, and Henry Breuil's (somewhat elaborated) drawing of it on the right.

Henri Breuil was influenced by Spencer and Gillan's study of the Arunta of central Australia, and formed his theories of Paleolithic cave art from them. He emphasised their possible function as ensuring hunting success, and that this figure of 'The Sorcerer' was therefore a shaman, forming his magic hunting hypothesis that lasted into much of the 20th century.

There are criticisms of this view, like the rarity of actual hunting scenes, and that in the Upper Paleolithic, southwestern France was probably 'a human desert stocked full of animals' (Bordes), and so hunting magic wasn't actually needed.

Our view of cave art's moved on from the attitude it was art for art's sake in the 19th century. From the structuralist approaches of the 1960s influenced by Levi-Strauss, such as Leroi-Gourham's quantification and interpretation of cave art and the male/female symbolic oppositions, to structuralist and feminist approaches (Cokey's matrifocal view), ecological perspectives about fish and things (Jochim 1983), and ecology and initiation rituals (Mithen 1988). It appears it's not as easy as saying it's 'just a painting'...

One of the most interesting approaches I found was Lewis William's nueropyschology and trance interpretation. It's all about entoptic and iconic images seen in trance states being reflected in paintings, like dots and zig-zags.

The funniest explanation was the post-entoptic approach of Guthrie (2006), who argues that the art was made by adolescent boys who were a bit testosterone-fuelled and made 'Venus' figurines to represent their fantasies. It's one explanation, but my lecturer was a bit awkward trying to phrase this part...! (Hence it's hilarity, not because it's a bad theory).

I'd really like to research this more, and will hopefully get to see some of these caves up close for myself. I always wonder if there's some simpler explanation... I think this comic did too! (Courtesy of SMBC - pardon the language in the comic):

Looking 'under the wraps' of an Egyptian mummy

As of today, a new exhibition had opened at the National Museum of Scotland, Edinburgh, of Egyptian 'treasures'. I'm intrigued by the new technology that allows researchers to look 'under the wraps' and see what's beneath without unveiling and damaging the mummy.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-16983960

It's always fascinating to see people's attraction to the slightly macabre. There's always the ethical debate as to whether human remains should be on display, and while I believe it is wrongful to use fairly recent remains out of respect to those related to them and the deceased themselves, with ancient remains the case is slightly different. If treated with respect, as in this case, I see the harm to be minimal. Instead, I think it's an opportunity to learn more about the Ancient Egyptians' culture and practices.

My friend's got an internship at the British Museum!

As this post says in the title, my friend has just got an internship at the British Museum for this summer.  How brilliant is that? Trés cool. Obviously, I'm very jealous, but she definitely deserves it as she's thinking of planning on working there one day.  You go girl.

Hearing about the British Museum made me think of when I visited to see the exhibition 'A History of the World in 100 Objects.' I loved it so much I bought the book, having not had the chance to listen to it all on BBC Radio 4.  I enjoyed the hands-on activities (my inner child was smiling very widely), and one of my favourite pieces was the Olduvai handaxe from Olduvai gorge, Tanzania.

At first, it really doesn't look like much, just a bit of old stone in a nice teardrop shape.  But it's actually approximately 1.2 million years old, and made of volcanic phonolite.  It's been knapped alternately around the edges to form a bifacial tool, and by its size its function was probably a handaxe.

If you're interested, you can look at the website: http://www.bbc.co.uk/ahistoryoftheworld/, listen to the podcasts, or buy the book.

My friend will get a chance to have a look at some of these objects in much closer detail.  I think I'll overcome my jealousy and buy her a drink tonight to celebrate.

Upper Paleolithic and Neanderthals lecture (and a bit of 'Horrible Histories')

Just had a lecture from Prof Nick Barton, one of my college tutors, about the Upper Paleolithic and the 'extinction' of Neanderthals.  It's really interesting to see how evidence and artefacts from sites can be interpreted, reinterpreted, and re-dated to prove and also disprove the theory that Neanderthal and Anatomically Modern Humans co-existed, or even interbred.  I did like the recent European genome evidence that suggests that 1-4% of modern European genomes are derived from Neanderthals; so we all have a little bit of Neanderthal in us!  If you want a very general, jazzy, overview of the Stone Age, I can suggest no better one than the 'Stoneage Song' from the BBC television series 'Horrible Histories'.  I refuse to call it a children's programme because I actually find it pretty hilarious, and generally accurate (with a few dramatic licenses here and there...).  I also love the fact they're able to make musical in-jokes with history.  (Okay, language wasn't just 'invented' etc., but you get the picture!)

Ritual, liminality, communitas and hippies

Just finished writing my essay on ritual, "How can we explain ritual?" It's an open question, and I had to filter through multiple definitions before using Tambiah's definition as the basis of my essay:

"Ritual is a culturally constructed system of symbolic communication. It is constituted of patterned and ordered sequences of words and acts." (Tambiah 1985:128).

In my essay, I looked at Arnold van Genneps's theory of rites de passage and liminality - basically, that ritual is a process through 3 stages from one 'world' to the next; the preliminal (rite of separation), the liminal phase (transition phase), then the post-liminal phase (rite of aggregation), where the process can be from a stage in someone's life, a mental threshold or a physical place (Gennep [1909] 1960). The liminal is a kind of 'limbo', where status, identity, rank and gender are suspended as if it is an 'other world'.

Turner (1969) builds on Gennep's idea, and believes that in the liminal phase, individuals are in a structure-less community - he calls this 'communitas'. Although for most people, this is a temporary phase, such as in the ethnographic example of royal Swazi ritual where a hut represents the liminal and the royal member stays inside for less than a week, some adopt it as a permanent state. I used the example of monks as used by Tambiah and others, and Turner uses the example of hippies (who he delicately describes as "bums"! I disagree on this...) that these people live in a community of no ranking, and where gender is indistinguishable.

There is also matter that ritual gives power to the weak, and strips it from the poor in ceremonies. This is seen in both Swazi royal ritual and Zambian Ndembu installation ritual of the Kanongesha (Beidelman 1966), (Gennep [1909] 1960). I also identified the relationship being 'performative' aspects of ritual and their symbolic power in highlighting the participants' (also known in anthropology as actors) beliefs.

As you can see, I actually really enjoyed writing this essay. I might have also included a Joni Mitchell lyrics in relation to Gennep's "hippie" example. Let's hope my tutors don't mind. I love this song, so here it is:

The musings of Alan Moore on magic, art, language and shamanism in the technological world

Alan Moore, writer and graphic novelist, explains his thoughts on language, art, 'magick', and the power of language in the technological world.  A very interesting viewpoint, and clearly explained.  Moore gives a great interpretation of 'magick' as harnessing the power of language and its effect on us.  So, he believes "the artist or writer in the contemporary world is the closest thing to a shaman".  He goes on to explain the presence of shamanism and magic in the media, like advertising, so everyone thinks the same thoughts and are 'opiat[ed]' psychologically.  Personally, I think Moore's books should be on the reading list for Arch & Anth.  I wonder what my tutors would make of 'Watchmen' as suggested reading; though saying that, they've probably read it already.