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136 CLIFFORD GEERTZ References, Geeste, Clifford. 1960, The Religion of Java. Glencoe, I: Free Fess. 1963. Peddlers and Princes. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 1968. The Social History of an Indonesian Town. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT ress. 1966, Tihingan: A Balinese village. In Koentjrahingrat, ed, Vilage Com- ‘munities in Indonesia, Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press. 1968, Islam Observed. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press. 1973, Person, time and conduct in Bali. In Clifford Geertz, The Interpre- tation of Cultures. New York: Basic Books. Kohut, Heinz. 1971, The Analysis of the Self. New York: International Uni- Wersties Pres Malinowski, Bronislaw. 1967, A Diary in the Strict Sense af the Term. New ‘York: Harcourt, Brace and World. ‘Spitzer, Leo. 1962, Essays on English and American Literature, Princeton, ‘NJ: Princeton University Press. ‘Watson, James. 1968, The Double Helix. New York: Atheneum 5 Toward an anthropology of self and feeling Michelle Z. Rosaldo For purposes of argument, my past is mythic. Once upon a time (it sometimes helps to think), the world was simple. People knew that ‘thought was not the same as feeling, Cognition could be readily opposed to affect, explicit to implicit, “discursive” to “presentational” forms ‘of symbols, outer “‘mask” to inner “essence,” mere facts of “custom” to less malleable dispositions and personalities. For comparatists, these oppositions merged with the contrast be- tween the variable and the universal, the relatively cultural and the relatively biological. For sociologists, the opposition between the so- cial and the individual was evoked. And for psychologists, these con- trasts paired with processes that were conventionally assigned to either shallow" or “deep” aspects of the mind. Finally, to anthropologists, such oppositions made good sense because we recognized that, how- ever strange the customs of the people that we studied in the field, we all could speak of individuals who, in personality, recalled our enemies, friends, or mothers: There was, it would appear, a gap between the personality and its culture. Moreover ~ although in an almost contra- dictory vein — we knew that learning any culture’s rules (like how to bow or to ask for a drink) was not the same as feeling that their ways of doing things could satisfy our impulses and needs: Affective habits, ‘even when culturally shaped, appeared autonomous from the sorts of facts that cluttered our ethnographies.' Has there been progress? Although it strikes me that in some ways the dichotomies mentioned here are inevitable, as they appear unduly ‘wedded to a bifurcating and Western cast of mind, I want to argue that the development, in recent years, of an interpretive" concept of cul- ture provides for changes in the way we think about such things as selves, affects, and personalities. The unconscious remains with us. Bursts of feeling will continue to be opposed to careful thought. But recognition of the fact that thought is always culturally patterned and infused with feelings, which themselves reflect a culturally ordered past, suggests that just as thought does not exist in isolation from af- fective life, so affect is culturally ordered and does not exist apart from thought. Instead of seeing culture as an “arbitrary” source of "“con- tents” that are processed by our universal minds, it becomes necessary iis Aen a 138 MICHELLE z. ROSALDO to ask how “contents” may themselves affect the “form” of mental process. And then, instead of seeing feeling as a private (often animal, presocial) realm that is ~ ironically enough ~ most universal and at the Same time most particular to the self, it will make sense to see emotions ‘not as things opposed to thought but as cognitions implicating the im- mediate, carnal "me" ~ as thoughts embodied. ‘In what follows, I will begin by speaking first about the power and limitations of the contrasts just evoked, discussing a set of intellectual developments that suggest a need for revised models. | then sketch some sorts of evidence likely to support a different, and more cultur- alist, account of how our feelings work ~ one that ins'sts upon the Sociocultural bases for experiences once assigned to a subjective and ‘unknowable preserve of psychic privacy. Signs of the times ‘To begin, it is quite clear that a discomfort with “‘our"” opposed terms is not orginal to myself. One can trace something of the movement ‘with which I am concerned in developments in the last twenty or $0 years in psychology, anthropology, and philosophy. - ‘Thus, years ago structuralists abolished affect, posited an identity between “mind” and the world, and then recovered “energy” through notions like “anomaly” and “liminality."? “Cognitive dissonance” placed fecling inside cognitive discourse.* Social psychologists and an- thropologists argued that “personalities” are the illuscry product of reflections that abstract from social life." And psychoanalysts, in a Uifferent but related vein, retreated from instinctual, unreflective, and ‘mechanical conceptions of the self in elaborating such terms as "ego" ‘and “object.” More recently, Foucault (1978) has argued that “repres- sion” is itself the product of a world where we “confess.” A stress fon “narcissism” has made concern with “face” (rather than with ta: booed drives) a central motive for the psyche,® and “‘action language” has attempted to displace “unconscious structures” in psychoanalytic accounts of mental process.” That all of this has happened at a time ‘when terms like action and intention have become the problematic foci ‘of much philosophical discourse,* when literary theorists have at- ‘tempted to “deconstruct” our views of selves and actors,” and, finaly, ‘when anthropologists, like myself (Rosaldo 1980),"° have shown re hewed concern for how selves, affects, and persons are constructed in particular cultural milieu all this suggests that something deeper is at stake than hackneyed cultural relativism or youthful distrust of received categories. "An advocate may not be the best person to name the substance of trend. Nor is the “trend” of which I speak sufficiently delimited or well formed for me to claim that an enriched concept of culture is the Key to recent arguments in fields as different as anthropology and psy~ cchoanalysis. What I would argue, however, is that central to the de- ‘TOWARD AN ANTHROPOLOGY OF SELF AND FEELING 139 velopments evoked here is an attempt to understand how human beings tunderstand themselves and to see their actions and behaviors as in some ways the creations of those understandings. Ultimately, the trend suggests, we must appreciate the ways in which such understandings ¢grow, not from an “inner” essence relatively independent ofthe social ‘world, but from experience in a world of meanings, images, and social ‘bonds, in which all persons are inevitably involved. Perhaps one of the deepest and most probing instances of this con- ‘tempory turn of thought s P. Ricoeur's masterful Freud and Philosophy (1970). In it, Ricoeur contrasts two interdependent and yet — he sug- jeests ~ irreconcilable perspectives in the writings of the founder of psychoanalysis. First and most critically, Freud's texts make use of ‘what Ricoeur sees as an hermeneutic, or interpretivist, approach, ‘Wherein our symptoms and the images in our dreams reflect experi- ences, things heard and seen, as these are linked to one another through associative chains and established in the course of living in the world. But, a the same time, Ricoeur makes clear that in the Freudian account cour psychic images have force, our symptoms depth, because they interact with biologically based energies and histories of repressed de- sires. Surely, the subsequent history of psychoanalysis can be traced through theorists concerned with universally given instincts and those who stress the ego ~ or the patient, whose development is shaped by understanding, intelligence, social relationships, and self-knowledge. ‘The “energetics” and “hermeneutics” that Ricoeur discerns in Freud have thus, in fact, become mutually dependent yet uneasy bedfellows {in most academic psychoanalysis. Ricoeur's contribution was, at once, to emphasize the central place of meaning, language, and interpretation in psychoanalytic discourse and then to show the tensions that accom- pany a seemingly insoluble split between the poles of meaning and desire. Desire and meaning are not, of course, identical to such opposed terms as affect and cognition, feeling and thought, or, for that matter, personality and culture/society. And yet, much of the interest of the formulations developed by Ricoeur is that one apprehends a common- ality between his terms and more pervasive analytic themes. In an- thropology, as in psychology, the culturalideational and individ- ual/affective have been construed as theoretically, and empirically, at ‘odds. And, furthermore, in both one finds the second set of terms described as basic, brute, precultural fact ~ and therefore granted ana- lytical primacy. Thus, among most early writers in the culture and personality school, the organization of culture was that of the culturally typical personality writ large; just as, for later thinkers, culture an- swered to the typical actor's typical problems." Subsequently, such theories of ‘reflection’ were abjured, but psychological anthropolo- gists tended continually to see in culture a set of symbols answering to (or perhaps channeling) unconscious needs,"? whereas social an- thropologiss like Victor Turner (1967) readily proclaimed that symbols be 140 MICHELLE z. ROSALDO work at opposed poles, serving as tokens of society's rules while mak- ing an immediate appeal to semen, feces, blood, and the desires fixed within our universal bodies. Durkheim's (1915) insistence on the dual nature of “‘mankind” (and his assumption that our social worlds are made to organize, or transcend, a selfish, biologically given individ- tality) was thus reiterated in a tradition that construed the individual’s inner world in terms of processes that could be channeled by, but were in essence separate from, the culturally variable facts of social life. ‘Although the “dual” nature Durkheim saw may prove a legac} or truth ~ impossible to avoid, it seems to me that cultural analysis in recent years has (much like the “hermeneutics” highlighted by Ri- Coeur) led to a reordering of priorities. Loathe to deny desire or the {nner life, the recent trend has been to stress the ways that innerness is shaped by culturally laden socialty. Instead of emphasizing the psy- ‘chological cast of cultural forms, this recent turn — elaborated perhaps ‘nost tellinaly in the works of Clifford Geertz (1973a)"? ~ insists that ‘meaning is a public fact, that personal life takes shape in cultural terms, for better yet, perhaps, that individuals are necessarily ard continually involved in the interpretive apprehension (and transformation) of re- ceived symbolic models. ‘For present purposes, what is important here is, first, the claim that meaning is a fact of public life and, second, the view that cultural patterns - social facts - provide a template for all human action, Growth, and understanding. Cultural models thus derive from, as they Seseribe, the world in which we live, and at the same time provide a basis for the organization of activities, responses, perceptions, and experiences by the conscious self. Culture so construed is, further- more, a matter less of artifacts and propositions, rules, schematic pro- grams, of beliefs than of associative chains and images that suggest (what can reasonably be linked up with what: We come to know it through collective stories that suggest the nature of coherence, prob ability, and sense within the actor's world. Culture is, then, always richer than the traits recorded in ethnographers” accounts because its truth resides not in explicit formulations of the rituals of daly life but in the practices of persons who in acting take for granted an account lof who they are and how to understand their fellows’ moves. Thus, for ethnographers in the field, a set of rules that tells them what the natives do can never show them how and why a people's deeds make psychological sense because the sense of action ultimately depends tipon one’s embeddedness within a particular sociocultural mile ‘What then of affect? One impli of this recent “culturalist”” style of thought is that our feeling that something much deeper than sere” cultural fact informs the choices actors make may itself be the ‘product of a too narrow view of culture. If culturally organized views Of possibility and sense must figure centrally in the acquisition of a sense of self providing images in terms of which we unselfconsciously connect ideas and actions then culture makes a difference that con- ‘TOWARD AN ANTHROPOLOGY OF SELF AND FEELING ui ee eee liefs. They are instead, cognitions - or more aptly, perhaps, interpre- ions always culturally informed, in which the actor finds that body, a etry oe ntl ta a ort en inal someting ihn priest 8 eos oS oft mb and en On eps en a ee ee ee ear ac es tee eae bg mre oe cnet eran te eee ee A A ee el Ee ey el at erie enone Se wen rg hots mt melo fon ect fewer SI a ee econ ce aoe rela eee tly hea eal Dec ene affect, are essential to all thought, and, on the other, that we could sie, een Eon eo er. am CE ee ee cae tet op wr ong ce esr co Aa are ee ae ee ae are a ee rene Toward ethnographies ‘To some of you, these claims may seem ridiculous; to others, careless; to others, common sense. In what follows I want to ground my some ‘what sweeping stance with reference to a set of concrete observations. Is to follow are presented with a goal of show- ‘how my abstract claims may have empirical implications: They make a difference for the things we look at and the ways we understand. The first example argues that emotions are not things but processes that are best understood with reference to the cultural scenarios and 142 MICHELLE z, ROSALDO associations they evoke. The second seeks to challeng> a prevailing ‘View that tells us to distinguish private "selves" and social ‘persons.”* ‘And in my third example I discuss comparative findings, which suggest that selves and feelings, shaped by culture, may be understood in turn as the creation of particular sorts of polities, WHAT ARE EMOTIONS? 1 gather that among psychologists in recent years it has become fash- jonable to note that affect enters into thought and to suggest that selves” and “personalities” are not enduring inner things but con- series of ways of acting and understanding that derive from social life. ‘But at the same time most recent writers appear to be impressed by fidence claiming that “hot” cognitions, “preferences,” and our “basic” and apparently “unthinking” styles of emotional response are relatively independent of the stuff of culture, thought, and reason, Ex- perimental data - some have argued - are thus challenging unduly Cognitive and rational conceptions of the self. Emotions are, it seems, neither as conscious nor as controllable as certain Philistines might like, Thus Freud is vindicated."* ‘The difficulty with such formulations, 1 suggest, is that they make things sound too simple. Freud’s unconscious, Ricoeur makes clear, is far from lacking in such things as cultural experience, knowledge, ‘or thought. Nor does the fact that some emotions (and, cf course, some thoughts!) appear to have no reasoned cause mean thet our lives are ordinarily split into “hot” feelings somehow wired in and “‘cold”” and Variable styles of reason."® Surely, experience argues forcefully that thoughts and feelings are not the same. And it seems easier to insist that people elsewhere think differently about their agriculture or gods than to insist (as it was at one time fashionable to say) that primitives are unrepressed or then again (to parody myself) that there is nothing universal about such things as happiness and anger. But that the Bs linese no more feel “guilt” than we feel lek, the Balinese emotion closest to our ‘‘shame™ - and that these difference relate to how we think about the world — is, to me, equally clear.” ‘My point is not to argue that contemporary academic psychol located, as itis, within our oppositional terms, is but “our” folk beliet disguised in weighty tomes"® — by observing, for example, that the Hlongots (the Philippine people 1 studied in the field) do not concep- tualize an autonomous inner life in opposition to life-in-the-world. 1 could, for instance, demonstrate that most Ilongots tend to sec in feel- ings hidden facts no more disturbing or long-lasting than feelings ex- pressed and that they speak of hearts that think and feel without dis finguishing thought and affect. But, then again, I would remark that Hlongot concepts, even though they do not match our own, make im- plicit contrasts closely parallel to ours in that they speak at times of hemnem (thought, to think, reflect), at times of ramak (want, to want, desire), at times of rinawa (heart, desire, to will, feel, think of mov- ‘TOWARD AN ANTHROPOLOGY OF SELF AND FEELING 13 ing/doing). Thought and feeling are not distinguished, but llongot dis- course comprehends a gap between passive reflection and thought fueled with affect, or acts of desiring, in a way that parallels our di chotomies. Hongots are, in short, both like and unlike us. What is at stake is not so simple as the abandonment of “‘our" constructs in con- frontation with a people who appear to challenge our discourse but rather a reflection on the limits of the ways in which the problem has hitherto been posed. Or stated otherwise, rather than argue that the stuff of feeling is ~ in some essential and “brute" sense ~ either “the same” ot “different” from the stuff of thought, it seems to me that what an anthropologist should do is point to ways in which, where psychological issues are ‘concerned, the public and symbolic stuff of culture makes a difference. ‘Thus, for me, the crucial point - and one much more profound than it initially appears — is recognition of the fact that feeling is forever given shape through thought and that thought is laden with emotional , Tean then argue — much as proposed earlier ~ that what thought and affect, differentiating a “‘cold"” cognition froma “hot,” is fundamentally a sense of the engagement ofthe actor's self. Emotions are thoughts somehow “felt” in flushes, pulses, “move- ‘ments" of our livers, minds, hearts, stomachs, skin. They are embodied thoughts, thoughts seeped with the apprehension that “I am involved.” ‘ThoughVaffect thus bespeaks the difference between a mere hearing of a child's ery and a hearing felt — as when one realizes that danger is involved or that the child is one’s own. ‘What processes account for such involvement of the self ~ what sorts of histories, capacities, desires, frustrations, plans ~ may well belong to the psychologist’s domain. Among other things, they will in- clude propensities for physical response and the awareness that en- during images of who one is are intimately at stake: Emotions are about the ways in which the social world is one in which we are involved. But this aside, the stakes, solutions, threats, and possibilities for re- sponse are apt, in every case, to take their shape from what one's world ‘and one’s conceptions of such things as body, affect, and self are like. Feelings are not substances to be discovered in our blood but social practices organized by stories that we both enact and tell. They are structured by our forms of understanding. ‘Thus stated, a view that feelings can be classified into a set of uni- versal kinds becomes no more acceptable than the view that one can speak of a generality of personalities. One can, of course. And partial clarity is obtained — but only because our words for kinds of people, kkinds of feelings, and so on evoke a background of assumptions that then guide the way to see and thus may keep us from attending to what in fact is going on. Somebody slights me. I respond with tension, anger, rage. But what I feel depends on how I understand what happened and construe my options in response. 144 MICHELLE z. ROSALDO For example, it is common knowledge within our world that events like slights make people angry. Anger felt can be expressed, but if enied or —-even worse ~ repressed, its “turned inward!” in manner that can lead to everything from melancholy to explosion. We can “vent” anger, arbitrarily, on unfortunate innocents within our view. We can “deny” true feelings and, in consequence, be damned to inner Uurooil, But what we cannot do are two things common among the Philippine Hongots I knew: We cannot be ‘‘paid’” for “anger.” which, fo satisfied, then dissolves, and we cannot “forget” an “anger"” whose expression would prove undesirable. The Hongots understood tha feel {ngs could be hidden. But they did not think of hidden or forgotten ‘Moots as disturbing energies repressed; nor did they see in violent setions the expression of a history of frustrations buried in a fertile but ‘unconscious mind. Vecall an incident in which a man who I had thought to have been frustrated by his “brother's” carelessness in making plans, got drunk fand fought with the offender. To me, the deed stood as a clear expres ‘Sion of disruptive feelings hitherto repressed. To the llongots, however, {he fight was seen as nothing more than an unfortunate consequence Of drink, which "dissolved" consciousness and in so doing led the fighter to forget bonds with his brother. By my account, one would expect to see in subsequent actions further symptoms ofa conflict that forme seemed real and deep. If seething anger was in inner truth re~ ‘Rated in drink, I should have found its symptoms lingering ia sobriety. But what in fact ensued were simply signs of “shame” - an affect dictated by the bravler's restored knowledge of significant, though forgotten, kinship ties. Hongots who ~ to my observer's eye — had failed to recognize the psychological bases for the brawl proved right in that their understanding was the one that guided both men in the days that followed. ‘Tt would be possible, of course, to translate this event into the terms of Western psychological discourse and argue that a need for solidarity fa this case had led the relevant actors to deny their true emotions. ‘But what is difficult to understand, as long as Tlongot ‘‘anger"" is con- strued within our analytic frame, is how and why the Illongots con- Siinod could be content with what to me appeared the sort of outcome that could only lead to renewed conflict. Certainly, the event bore some relation toa history of tensions that my friends saw no causeto address. ‘But the failure of my vision ~ of how “‘anger” grows and is resolved eto comprehend their very real success in keeping ‘anger from dis- ‘upting bonds of kin suggests that in important ways their feelings and the ways their feelings work must differ from our own. ‘Further probing into how Hongots think that “anger” works ~ the fact that Christianity was seen as an alternative to killing in response fo death of kin because "God does away with grief and anger"; their reasons for surprise in learning that American soliders had aot received ‘Compensatory payments from their former enemy, the Japanese; their ‘TOWARD AN ANTHROPOLOGY OF SELF AND FEELING 4s ‘their claim that since “I couldn't kill my wife, I just decided to forget Bercy Te hy ie St of the Ilongot account. How and why we think of “‘anger"’ as a thing of volatility repressed and more in terms of how and if it can be an- swered, cannot be explicated here. et cal so aya wh sh det ane se ay fh er terior space in which the self might nurture an unconscious rage) acs nnah et rater SE i coi nee tute migenateen ion our ewe oar et PERSON AND SELF People everywhere ~ as Irving Hallowell proposed ~ are apt to have Some notion of personal identity overtime and ofthe boundaries be tween themselves and others. Whatever the connections we may fel wit fellow men, we recognize (and gran significance to) some of our tiferences as well ~ and in this linited sense a concept of the selfs apt to bea cultural universal : ‘Less certain are the questions of what self-constrcts may be lik how vulnerable they ae ofc of comtert and of sociocultural milieu, ow and if toy contrast with ieas concerning oer what people are about. _aneaaed "Anthropologists, folowing such divers thinkers asthe Frenchman oie ae Ca ean G. H. Mead,” have held to a dis inction between the "me" and "I" ~ between the soil person chat ty dee abou the body, con of rl an a ore inate and private self. Thus, Meyer Fortes” has taken pains to show that ‘Afcan peoples typically enjoy vocabularies for talking firs about “the person" as descrbed for Kinsmen, courts, of cues and, then again ‘bout the “individual” who enjoys a “destiny” that is hers or his alone, iy, Hongots have ways of aking about Kinds of Kin, of workers fd the tikes and ways to speak of what i Yalagaru Gell hes oF his) ="thowe actions that can only be explained with reference fo an ind Siduels way of being in the word. Ths, llongots see the rinava oF Uhear as something that responds and acs within the work, but also Glaim that actions of the “heart” are often hidden, inexplicable, paque, autonomous, The Hongot notion of the “hear Would then to Fortes ~ be a token of the indviduated self that is but masked, presented, staged in public life. . 146 MICHELLE z. ROSALDO In challenging this standard view, I would not claim that Hongot individuals do not exist. Rather, I want to argue that an analytic frame- ‘work that equates ‘‘selffindividual” with such things as spontaneity, ‘genuine feeling, privacy, uniqueness, constancy, the “inner” life, and ‘then opposes these to the ‘‘persons” or “personae™ shaped by mask, role, rule, or context, is a reflection of dichotomies that constitute the modern Western self. And in this case “our” distinctions prove mis- Ieading as a frame on which to hang Hongot constructs. "A number of points seem relevant. First, longot hearts are not fixed entities that stand behind or underneath a public world where person- hood is both affirmed and challenged. As numerous ethnographies sug~ gest, our notions of a constant “I” ~ alluded to by the experiences that make a lengthy dossier“ are not found in tribal cultures in which kinship and identity are forever things to be negotiated in diverse con- texts. The Iongot who today confronts me as an affine may well to- ‘morrow be my son, a difference that describes not only how we speak ‘but how we act and feel in daily life. Personal names may change when fone contracts disease, moves to a new locale, makes friends, or mar- ries, And character is seen less as a product of one’s nature or €x- perience in life than of the situations in which the actor currently is found. Success in headhunting, Christian conversion, birth of children, illness, age, the loss of kin or confrontation with a slight ~ are all things that can "go to” the heart and make it “different."” Yesterday's “en- ergy” and “anger” can ~ through marriage or conversion ~ turn to utter calm. Correspondingly, among Iongots, personality descriptions are ex- tremely rare, as are strategic reckonings of motivation. Accounts of why particular persons acted as they did refer almost exclusively to public and political concerns — surprising actions giving rise to the Sespairing claim that “one can never know the hidden reaches of a other's heart.” In general, Tongots do not discern intentions, trace responsibility, or reckon blame by asking if offenders ‘‘knew" that they wronged others through their actions. Nor do they promise or hold fellows to account for failure to fulfill the expectations of their Kin and friends. People can, of course, be duplicitous - “*hide the wishes of their hearts” and ‘‘lend their tongues” to parties whom they only formally support in public meetings. But what they co not do is receive gifts in “payment” for the “anger in their hearts” and then insist that a mere ritual is inadequate to resolve emotions that continue to be strong. Most of the time there is no gap between the inner heart fand what one does or says: Hearts move and in so doing make for hhuman life and talk. ‘For Llongots, in short, there is no necessary gap between “the pres- entation’ and “the self." What is most true of individuals, their deep- test sense of who they are, is located in a set of actions ~ hunting, ‘headhunting, growing rice ~ that displays the “energy” or ‘‘anger”” that gives shape and focus to all healthy human hearts. What is more, TOWARD AN ANTHROPOLOGY OF SELF AND FEELING 147 these deeds do not achieve the separation of the individual from the ‘group. Lack of focus makes one “different,” but the longot ideal is best described as one of “'sameness," parity, or equality. Deviance, illness, madness, and failure to perform are typically attributed to things outside the self: Spiritual forces may cause crops to fail or make a person wild or weak by taking the heart out of one's body. But no tone sees in deviant acts the telling symptoms of a person's character cor worth. Nor do Hongots in their self-reflections speak of personal histories or distinctive psychic drives to account for the peculiarities of deeds or dreams. For llongot men, the act of taking heads is probably the occasion for their most intense, most magical, and most focused sense of self. And yet the irony, from our point of view, is that self- realization in this form is what makes adult men “the same” as equal fellows. The act of killing does not prove the individual's inner volatility ‘or worth; itis a social fact, permitting equal adult men to engage in the cooperation appropriate to adults. In short, it seems misleading to identify individuality with the Hongot sense of self, first, because Il- congots do not assume a gap between the private self and public person and, second, because the very terms they use in their accounts of how and why they act place emphasis not on the individual who remains outside a social whole but rather on the ways in which all adults are simultaneously autonomous and equal members of a group. A last point follows from those just discussed. In thinking about personhood and selves, the analyst distinguishes between a public dis- course and a less accessible inner life, the first described by role and rule, the second by a less articulate discourse of gesture, tone, and hidden truth, I proposed earlier that what individuals can think and feel is overwhelmingly a product of socially organized modes of action and of talk, and that society itself, as in the Hongot case, provides its actors images that combine such things as action, thought, emotion, and health, connecting “anger” in the self to public life in which one wants to be “the same” as equal fellows. It would seem to follow that what we call “real feelings" or the inner self are simply silences dis- cemed, given our analytical discourse, silences that do not necessarily help us to grasp the ways that culture shapes and is shaped by human experience. For us, the attributes of individuals describe the core of what we really are. Ritual actions, things we do “because of” roles and norms, become mere artifice and play; the "*masks” that mundane rules pro- vide do not describe subjective life. But our concern with the individ- uals and with their hidden inner selves may well be features of our world of action and belief ~ itself to be explained and not assumed as the foundation for cross-cultural study. COMPARISONS Self and person, I have argued, need not be conceptually opposed, although it strikes me as perfectly reasonable to insist that, given var- 148 MICHELLE z. ROSALDO iations in experience-in-the-world, all individuals will differ. The di tinction can be challenged first of all with reference to ethnographic materials like those just sketched. But second, it can be questioned on the basis of comparative accounts that show how notions ofthe person, affective processes, and forms of society itself are interlinked. My hhunch, in very general terms, is that there is a good deal of cross- cultural variability in the ways that people think about the opposition between private and public, inner life, and outer deed, and that these differences prove related, on the one hand, to conceptions of such things as bodies, souls, relationships, and roles and, on :he other, to the life of feeling. ‘Perhaps the area in which anthropologists have come closest to ex- ploring linkages of this sort is that described by the classic opposition Between the affects “guilt” and '‘shame.””® Assuming people every- where to have destructive impulses requiring their society's control, several theorists have suggested that affective sanctions ~ “shame” ‘or “guilt,” the eye of social expectation, or the voice of inner principle ‘and rule ~ will operate (either together or apart) in checking the asocial strivings of the self. Thus, “guilt” and "shame" have been proposed as guardians of social norms and the foundations of a moral order in ‘2 world where individuals would not readily pursue unselfish goals. “Guilt” as a sanction is then associated with our individualistic and rapidly changing social form, and "'shame"” with those societies that subordinate the person to 2 hierarchical whole, displaying more con- ‘cern for continuity than for change. ‘The contrast has been criticized, of course, and 1 would not defend ithere. The “shameful” Japanese have “guilt,” and we, i seems, have “shame.”” And yet the contrast speaks to something many of us find true: That there are correspondences between emotions, social forms, and culturally shaped beliefs. The difficulty with “ that it sorts just "us" from “them,” asking how “they” achieve ad- herence to their norms and rules in lieu of mechanisms we use to an ‘equivalent sort of end. What is not recognized is the possibility that the very problem — how society controls an inner self - may well be limited to those social forms in which a hierarchy of unequal power, privilege, and control in fact creates a world in which the individual ‘experiences constraint. ‘For Hongots — and, I suggest, for many of the relatively egalitarian peoples in the world ~ there is no social basis for a problematic that Assumes need for controls, nor do individuals experience themselves ’s having boundaries to protect or as holding drives and lasts that must be held in check if they are to maintain their status or engage in every- day cooperation. In reading recently about the hierarchical Javanese,” was impressed that “‘shame” for them is something of a constant sentinel, protecting the (male) self from a distressing mundane sphere; ‘whereas, for longots — and people like them, I would think ~ ““shame”” ‘operates only with reference to occasional sorts of contexts and re- TOWARD AN ANTHROPOLOGY OF SELF AND FEELING 49 lationships. Rather than (as seems the case, e.g., with Mediterranean peasants or with Benedict’s Japanese)" needing to guard a public pres- fence and restrain such forces as might undermine the status of their families and homes, Hongots are concerned primarily not to protect but rather to assert the potency of equal, “angry” hearts in everyday affairs. Thus, Longot '‘shame””is not a constant socializer of inherently social souls, but an emotion felt when *'sameness” and sociality are undermined by confrontations that involve such things as inequality and strangeness. For Hlongots, such inequalities breed feelings of “anger"" and the shows of force through which imbalances are over- ‘come. But ‘‘shame" emerges when ~ because of weakness, age, or the relationships involved ~ inferiors accept their place and then withdraw in “shamed” acceptance of subordination.” My point, in shor, is that the error of the classic “guilt and shame” account is that it tends to universalize our culture's view of a desiring inner self without realizing that such selves ~ and so, the things they feel ~ are, in important ways, social creations. ""Shames” differ as ‘much cross-culturally as our notions of “shame” and “guilt."’ Further investigation would, I am convinced, make clear that “'shame”’ in the Hlongot world differs from that experienced by participants in some- ‘what more inegalitarian African tribal groups and that these differ in ‘um from that experienced in societies organized as states. Symbolic bonds of “'shame”” and sex; the question as to whether “shame” re- quires that men or women be restrained; the sense of boundaries to defend; issues of who feels “'shame" and when, and of relationships between the sense of “having shame” and “being shamed” by fellows = all are, I would imagine, cultural variables dependent on the nature of encompassing social formations. Thus, whereas the affect "'shame” may everywhere concern investments of the individual in a particular image of the self, the ways that this emotion works depends on socially dictated ways of reckoning the claims of selves and the demands of situations. Once itis recognized that affects and conceptions of the self assume fa shape that corresponds ~ at least in part ~ with the societies and polities within which actors live their lives, the kinds of claims that they defend, the conflicts they are-apt to know, and their experiences of social relations, it becomes possible furthermore to suggest that the ethnocentric error of exporting “our” view is closely linked to the distinctions criticized in this chapter. In brief: Because we think of a subjective self whose operations are distinct from those of persons-in- the-world, we tend to think of human selves and their emotions as everywhere the same. Taking a somewhat opposed view, I am led ~ as it should now be clear — to note significant ways that people vary. ‘Not only does ‘‘shame” appear to differ, given differences in socio- political milieu, but tentative observations argue that much the same thing can be said of the emotions called by names like “‘envy,”” “hap- piness,”” “love,” and "rage.”” 150 MICHELLE 2. ROSALDO ‘Thus, for instance, in my recent work, I have been struck by what appears a constancy in the ways that "anger" works in what I call “prideservice" - loosely, hunter-gatherer ~ groups, in which people appear to think of “anger” as a thing, that, if expressed, will necessarily destroy social relations.”® The Iongots ~ whose social relationships fare of this sort - respond to conflict with immediate fear of violent death; they say they must forget things lest expression make men kill; and, as suggested in the anecdote described earlier, they seem quite capable of “forgetting anger” in those contexts where a show of vi- ‘lence has no place. The notion, common in more complex, tribal ~ in my terms, “bridewealth”’ - groups, that “anger” can and should be publicly revealed in words and, correspondingly, that ‘‘anger” held ‘within may work to other people's harm in hidden, witchlike ways" appears as foreign to them as it does to foraging brideservice groups ‘around the world for whom disputing persons either separate or fight and the expression of violent feelings is seen as always dangerous. ‘More detail than is possible here would be necessary to clarify and explain the forms of “anger” in these groups. The shapes of witchcraft, the contrast between the use of ordeals in bridewealth groups and duels ‘the brideservice case, the fact that peoples like Tlongots “‘pay"” for ‘anger” rather than loss suffered in the case of marriage or the murder of one’s kin ~ all would figure in such an explanation. But what I hope is clear is that my earlier claims ~ that ongot “anger” differs from ‘our own and that Hongots do not generally differentiate self and person tare not the simple arguments of a relativist who fears that use of our {terms will blind us to the subtle ways that Iongots construe their sit- uation. So much is obvious. More significant is the theoretical point that relates lives of feeling to conceptions of the self, as both of these are aspects of particular forms of polities and social relations. Cultural idioms provide the images in terms of which our subjectvities are formed, and, furthermore, these idioms themselves are socially ordered and constrained. Conetusion Society —Thave argued ~ shapes the self through the medium of cultural terms, which shape the understandings of reflective actors. It follows that insofar as our psychology is wedded to our culture's terms in it accounts of people elsewhere in the world, it is unlikely to appreciate their deeds. Previous attempts to show the cultural specificity of such things as personality and affective life have suffered from failure to ‘comprehend that cuiture, far more than a mere catalogue ofrituals and beliefs, is instead the very stuff of which our subjectivities are created. To say this is, of course, to raise more questions than I can pretend to solve - old questions about the nature of both mind and culture. But it strikes me that considerations like the ones evoked here are valuable as correctives to those classically employed in helping us to ‘TOWARD AN ANTHROPOLOGY OF SELF AND FEELING 1st go beyond a set of classic answers that repeatedly blind our sight to the deep ways in which we are not individuals first but social persons. Notes ‘This chapter bas grown out of reflections following completion of my mono sraph Knowledge and Passion (1980); in particular, I have been reading and ‘thinking about the sense in which cultural analyses may also be accounts of affect. Much of the relevant reading was completed while I was a fellow at the Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences, partially supported by a grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities. The paper was first presented at the SSRC conference on Concepts of Culture and Its Ac- ‘quisition organized by Richard A. Shweder and Robert A. LeVine. Tam par- ticularly grateful to Clifford Geertz, Sherry Ortner, Renato Rosaldo, David ‘Schneider, Mari Slack, and Mark Snyder for their comments. 1. The notion that experiences such as these might testify toa divide between affect and cognition, psychology and culture were occasioned by a reading ‘of the early chapters of Robert A. LeVine's useful book, Culture, Behavior and Personality (1973). My conclusions, however, difer from LeVine's, as the chapter should make clear. 2. Here I have in mind, first ofall, Claude LeviStrauss, who, of course, abolishes “affect” as something other than a consequence of cognitive processes in, e.g, Toremism (19636) and “The Effectiveness of Symbols” (1963a). Furthermore, it seems to me that “mediation” in Levi-Strauss, like "anomaly" in Douglas (1966) or ty" in Turner (1967, 1969), can be seen as a concept designed to “recover” energy and affect within the context of a structuralist perspective. For classic sources on cognitive dissonance, see Festinger (1964), D'Andrade’s (1965) classic study in this regard has been followed by the research and theoretical writings of Shweder (1979a, 1979b, 1980). Among eyelets, the works of Day Bem (974) an Water Mice! (97) are relevant. ‘5. Here am pointing to commonality (noted also, believe, by Roy Shacfer) in impulse shared by ego psychologists like Erikson e.g, 1963) and object relations theorists like Winnicott (1953) and Fairbairn (1954). See Cho- dorow (1978) for an extremely useful discussion of the significance of ob- Ject relations theory 6, In reading Kohut (1971), I was struck by the sense in which his work seemed a psychodynamic counterpart to the masterful sociology of "face developed by Erving Goffman (1959). Hochschild’ (1979) suggestion that ‘we see “emotion work” and “emotion rules" asthe “deep” counterpart {0 Goffman’s face work" (1967) provides the missing link. Interestingly, in all of these writers, there is an ambiguity as to whether their analytic Constructs are intended to be universal (and thus the product of strictly ‘analytical concerns) or more local reflections of self-constructs and prob- lems peculiar to the modern West. My hunch is that bth factors are op- erative; this isa piece of intellectual history that remains to be tol. 17. Shaefer (1976) is quite explicit as to the continuities between his efforts, ‘and those of “self,” "ego," and “object” psychologists, although he claims that they sought to accomplish through ‘‘structure” and "mec 152 10. 2. B. MICHELLE Z, ROSALDO nism” analytical ends that require an emphasis, instead, on agency, con- sciousness, or intention, have in mind here the work of linguistically oriented philosophers like Searle (1968), and Grice (1975), on the one hand, and of philosophers interested in conceptions of self, person, and affect (eg. Perry 1975; 1976, 1980; Williams 1973), on the other. For many of these people, one im- portant context for their reflections isthe rise ofthe notionof a “cognitive Science” and a desite to clarify the kind of analysis appropriate to “thought” itself . The key name here, of course, is Derrida (1976), but his continuity with structuralisms attack on “the subject" (see, e.g, Donato 1977) and the ‘challenge to conventional “humanism” posed by other “post-stctural- ists” such as Foucault (1972) also deserve to be noted. ‘The concern has a history, but key recent texts include: Crapanzano (1973), Diterien (1973), C. Geertz (1973), H. Geertz (1959), Levy (1973), “Myers (1979), Paul (1976), and Turner (1970). One could in addition, ist 1 host of dissertations and unpublished papers and several symposia at Tecent anthropology meetings. ‘Among those who see cultural organization as essentially that of person- ality, I would cite (whatever their differences), Benedict (1959), Kar (1938), Kardiner etal (1945), and Mead (1935). Whiting (.g., 1964) and his collaborators tend more to the view that cultureformation processes, resemble those of symbol-formation in Freud; inthis view, personality (r, more narrowly, child development) is seen as something that explains (father than paralleling, or being reflected in) culture. Key exemplars are Spiro (1967) and Obeyesekere (1974). ‘To his name should be added, minimally, those of David Schneider (1968) and Dell Hymes and J. Gumperz (1972), who have stressed the need for ‘properly cultural understanding of the apparently “natural” or *'func~ tional” domains of kinship and language, respectively. The culturalist turn also is reflected, of course, ina host of monographs by younger scholars: ‘eg, Oriner (1978), M. Rosaldo (1980), R. Rosaldo (1980), and Schieffelin (976). See also the work of such historians as N, Davis (1975) and W. Sewell (1980 “Although I would reject his formulation of emotions as “judgments,” R. ‘Solomon's somewhat uneven attempts to reconceptualie The Passions (1976) have influenced my own. One contribution of his that deserves particular note is his attempt to describe differences among emotions in {terms of differences in situations and inclinations toward action rather than differences in internal feeling states; (Solomon, Chapter 9, this volume) fon this, contrast Davitz (1968). Teannot begin to cite the relevant psychological literature, which ranges from Schachter and Singer's classic study (1962) ofthe impact of thought ‘on affect to Ekman's materials (e.g, 1974) on universals inthe expressior ‘of emotion to more recent formulations of the relation between “hot, ‘or “energized,” emotional states and "cooler modes of thought (¢.. Mandler 1975). For a provocative ~ though ultimately, I think, unsatis- factory - overview, see Zajonc (1980). For a dissident ~ although, to me, ‘more promising ~ view, see Smith (1981). ‘Of course, one can find both variability and relative universality in both domains. A complement, perhaps, to Ekman’s work on universals in emo- TOWARD AN ANTHROPOLOGY OF SELF AND FEELING. 153 1. 18 BE 2. tional experiencelexpression is that of Berlin (1972) and Berlin and Kay (1969) on universals in the categorization of plants and colors. But my argument inthis chapter (in particular, my discussion here of “anger") is that in neither case do universals begin to tell the whole story. The ob- tion that some kinds of feelings or perceptions may be relatively iven” in the nature of the world, of human society, or of the human “processing” apparatus will prove misleading if taken as “bedrock” for ‘an account of the ways that thought and feeling work in human minds. ‘What is most deeply felt or known, what is felt first, perceived most clearly, or experienced as a standard base or core need not be the "com- mon denominator” Western analysts perceive among such diverse things a Tongot and American styles of anger. And I would argue that we are ‘most likely to understand the force of ‘anger, passion” in longot hearts by starting not with isolated experiences we share, but with those Hongot lives and stories in which their “anger” is described. ‘See Geertz 1973. ‘These remarks owe a good deal to an unpublished paper by Catherine Lutz, “Talking, About “Our Insdes’: Ifaluk Conceptions of the Self.” ‘To cast the matter in linguistic terms, itis the difference between a state- ment cast in universal terms ~ “John's rug is green” ~ and deixs, a state- ment anchored in the speaking self - “I know John"; “Tee the rug”; “I hate the color green.” Deixis, of course, has proved problematic for prop- ‘ositionally oriented linguistics (see, e-., Silverstein 1976), and, from con- versations with John Perry, I gather that the "in sentences like those just presented gives metaphysical headaches to philosophers. My sugges- tion is that the “problem” of emotions is in some ways the same as the problem of deixis ~ a parallel suggesting that reflections in one domain might prove illuminating to the other. ). Hachchild’s (1979) work on “emotion rules” is probably the most explicit formulation in this regard. Given my problems with the notion of culture as-rule, [find more useful a comparable but more flexible formulation by ‘Schieffelin in which he talks about “cultural scenarios” (1976). ‘See Hallowell 1955. Mauss's distinctions (1938) are between “person,” “self,” and "‘individ- ual” and are understood in terms of a developmental cultural sequence, ‘with “the individual” a modem construct. But the opposition between “person” and “selfindividual” parallels Mead’s (1934) analytical for- ‘mulation ofa split between the interdependent constructs “me” and “I.” ‘See Fortes 1959. Unfortunately, Fortes is more concerned to document the presence in Aftican thought of notions of individual uniqueness than to develop the Meadian concern with an interaction between social (¥P- iftations ascribed to persons and their sense of individual identity |. Towe the point about the dossier to a paper by Jean Jackson, “Bara Con- cepts of Sef and Other" (1980). ‘There isin Hongot a gap between the things I say, reveal, and those I hide, but the latter are not associated with such things as self and essence. AS indicated in note 6, itis not clear to me if Goflman’s classic formulation is intended to describe universal or more local processes of self-definition. In fact, I would suggest that ofall themes in the literature on culture and personality, the opposition between guilt and shame has proven most re- silent (e.g, Benedict 1946; Dodds 1951; Doi 1973; Levy 1973; Lynd 1958; 154 MICHELLE z. ROSALDO Piers & Singer 1953), at least in part because guilt and shame are affects ‘concerned at once with psychological state and social context (thus pro- viding a significant terrain for culturally oriented social scientists) and in part because the opposition is consistent with numerous cthers in our psy- ‘chological and sociological vocabularies (inneriouter, Oedipal/pre-Oedi- pal, male/female, The West/The Rest, modernprinitive, egaltar- {anvhierarchical, change-oriented/traditional, and so on). 27, The reference is to Ward Keeler's doctoral dissertation cn Javanese way- ong wang theater “Father Puppeteer,” and his article, ‘Shame and Stage Fright in Java” (1983). 28, For classic cases in which shame seems to operate as a “fence,” pro- tectng, in particular, such things as personal or family honor, see Benedict 1946 for Japan; Campbell 1964 for Greek shepherds, Pit-Rivers 1954 for ‘Spanish peasants. In reading about shame in hierarchical Southeast Asia {e<., Java, Bal), one senses that something slightly diffrent is going on (Gee C. Geertz 19730; H. Geertz 1959; Keeler 1982, 198). 29, See my paper “The Shame of Headhunters and the Autonomy ofthe Sel” (1983) for a fuller formulation. 30, The birdeservicelbridewealth division is developed in Collier and Rosaldo (1981). This typological cut — like its predecessors tandiribe, hunt. inglagriculture ~is, needless to say, vulnerable to challenge. Itis proposed here primarily as anilustation of the kinds of ways in vhich differences in social formation might interact with diferences in selfafect constructs. ‘One needs some notion ofthe kinds of differences that nake a difference if interactions of any kind are to be grasped. 31. Examples abound. See, eg, Harris 1978 and Strathern 1975 for the dan- ers of hidden anger. 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