Muslim Veils: Different Analyses (Special Topic 3)

Veils are piece of cloth that people wear around your head. Nuns of different cultures wear them. Jewish and Muslim women in different parts of the world wear veils too.

Issues surrounding whether Muslim women should or should not wear veils have been on-and-off the public agenda in many countries. In Western public discourse, you can find people supporting Muslim women veiling. Supporters might say "the veil is an expression of female agency" or "it’s just as an expression of religious piety". And you can find people opposed to it. Opponents might say, "it’s a rejection of all we stand for" or "it's simply an expression of male control over women". I find both views, for and against veiling,  uninformed by the kind of qualitative analysis anthropology gives.

Ostensibly, veiling is a religious issue. In the Q'ran, God says:

O Prophet! Tell thy wives and daughters, and the believing women, that they should cast their outer garments over their persons (when abroad): that is most convenient, that they should be known (as such) and not molested. And Allah is oft-forgiving, most merciful.

But this doesn't really help us anthropologists understand Muslim veils. Why?

In the study of religious adherence we tend to focus more on what ordinary, lay-folk believe. Some anthropologists focus on studying religious specialists (who in Islam might be called "clerics", "ustadz", "ulama", and other words). But although religious specialists are influential, as specialists, they are 'special', so we analyse their understandings as them as having very particular stances on matter.

In any case, what matters to us interpretation. As much as certain people would like to say there is only one correct interpretation of the Bible, Torah, Q'ran, Scriptures etc., they only say that because so many interpretations exist! As we can see from the research by Abu-Lughod and Lindquist the veil has a wealth of significance that can't be easily deduced from the Q'ran passage above.

I think the best way to  begin approaching this topic is an extension (literally) of the Hair Debate (Special Topic 2). The question of public vs. private symbolism remains crucial in understanding Muslim veils. From this one question anthropologists might ask is, "what do veils mean, personally, for women who wear them?"  The other question is, "what do veils mean in the cultures in which they are worn?"

In this, the third special topic, from my subject Symbols and Society, I consider two different accounts of veiling. From them, we get a sense of similarities and difference in the meaning attached to veils in two different Islamic cultures.

Image of Malay women wearing jilbabs (the Malay Muslim veil) at my field site, the Cocos (Keeling) Islands. These women are waiting to eat the food they have prepared for a communal meal.

 Abu-Lughod: Veiled Sentiments

Bedouin woman

GLOSSARY 

ghinnawa = poetry of yearning and love

hasham = modesty, shame, shyness, sense of being unworthy

tahasham = having hasham

It might be surprising given the title of the book, but in her Veiled Sentiments, Abu-Lughod only directly deals with the meaning of wearing a veil on p. 159. It must be remembered though, anthropology is mostly about providing context. Consistent with the idea of holism, anthropologists feel that one must have a picture of the whole culture and society (Awlad Ali Bedouins) before a single phenomenon (wearing a veil) can be understood. Also the word “veil” in the title is metaphorical; the ghinnawas, highly personal poetry, give veiled expression to highly personal and, in certain contexts, inappropriate poetry recited by women. So what does Abu-Lughod have to say about actual veiling in the physical? 

Bedouin Wedding Procession

The immediate context is tahashsham. I’m going for a simplified explanation that will leave the experts rolling their eyes: hasham is a feeling a shame, shyness, and unworthiness. Tahashsham refers to women who comport themselves in an appropriate manner. A woman who tahashsham is disinterested in sex; avoids contact with most men (aside from those of her father's family); is publicly disinterested in her husband. And most of all, for our purposes, women who tahasshsham wear a thick veil. They particularly do this in the presence of male superiors and strangers. To understand this in detail you'll need to read pp. 153-159 of Veiled Sentiments, which is available online at most university libraries. I have also tried to summarise it here:

Lindquist: Maju, malu and veils

Glossary:
Maju= advanced
malu = coy, shy, reserved
jilbab = veil which leaves face exposed

Located near Singapore and Malaysia, the Indonesian island of Batam is replete with modern factories and brothels. Singaporean men use it as a source of cheap labour and cheap sex. For an analogy, you might consider Tijuana; the Mexican city just over the border form San Diego, where young American men might go for buck's nights etc.

Factories in Batam as a rule typically only employ young women (it used to be the virginity was also tested!).  Lindquist writes about Indonesian women have migrated from all over Indonesia to Batam to work in the factories:

“As unexpected as it might seem, migrant women sometimes wear Muslim veils or take ecstasy in the same places and for the same reasons,” writes Lindquist. The factories, as a rule, employs only young single, high-school educated females. These young women may feel ashamed because they have travelled to demonstrate their personal development; but often fail to save money and ‘get ahead’ and be maju. To be maju is to be up-to-date, developed, cutting edge. A country that has made itself maju is Korea or Japan; a Muslim that has made herself maju would be sophisticated and embody the latest in practice and thinking about Islam [which would include wearing the veil]. The opposite of maju is to be backward, rural, traditional. Migration is about becoming maju and not malu (modest, shy, embarrassed).

Batamindo Industrial Complex

“In conversations with workers who wore the veil it was clear that most of them began to do so only after they had arrived on Batam. The typical response to my enquiry about this was that they had only just ‘become aware’ (baru sadar). For instance, Widya, from the city of Yogyakarta in Central Java, claimed that she had always wanted to wear a jilbab before she came to Batam, but that it was rare there. While in Java it was easy to be branded fanatik (cf. Brenner 1998:232), on Batam one gained support not only from roommates but also from the agencies and companies that recruited them. Widya continued: ‘one of the good things about working here is that there are a lot of religious activities. In the kampung [my village of origin] it is usually only on Hari Raya [the day of celebration that breaks the Islamic fasting month] that there is anything going on.’

One aspect of personal development these young migrant women can work on is religion—there are more religious activities and information sessions than where they came from. Wearing the veil (jilbab) is part of this religious development; they need not return to their home feeling malu, even if they have little money saved, at least the veil shows they are developed. Lindquist writes:

In the [Batam industrial] estate, however, it is possible to take part in religious activities on a daily basis, either in the main mosque or in a wide variety of organizations that are organized through particular companies or by community-based groups created by workers and supported by the estate management. The interests of the workers, the companies, and the local government appear to converge, as the movement of workers is restricted to the mosque (or the church), the dormitories, and the factory. The development of the [Batam] industrial estate is matched by the spiritual development of the worker” (Lindquist 2004, 493).

At a more complex level, Lindquist ties wearing a jilbab in with morality, affect, subjectivity, nationalism, migration and various other concepts. According to Winarnita (2011) for Lindquist, modesty/shame/shyness or malu is:

a key emotional trope [for female migrants to Batam]…Lindquist argues that in migration malu should be understood in relation to representations connected to the originating nation…to him malu is an important starting point for thinking about the motivations and actions of Indonesian migrants in negotiating their hopes and frustrations. [Lindquist] he sees the women migrants as having agency in which malu becomes a reflexive management of appearances in the face of dramatic economic and social change.

You want to show how advanced you are by succeeding in migration both in earning a wage and becoming a better Muslim. Thus wearing a veil symbolises to others that one has become advanced or maju.

Symbolic Significance

The veil could thus be seen as symbolising something personal for the wearer herself (such as her personal journey to Batam). She also sends out message to others about herself, whether it be that she is malu or tahasham. To understand these different levels of symbolism it is useful to refer to the great anthropological debate regarding hair.

Summary

So for Lindquist failing in migration makes female workers feel malu. To deal with this feeling of malu, the sex workers take ecstasy. Those who work in factories want to feel like they have 'made it' and one way of showing of success is religious development. And one sign of religious development is wearing a veil. When the workers go back home, they wear a veil, they can feel less malu. Feelings of malu lie behind both taking ecstasy (for sex workers) and wearing a veil (for factory workers).

For Abu Lughod, writing about Bedouins, wearing a veil is also related to feelings of hasham. 

Reflection

I think of hasham and malu as important symbols and feelings. The feelings/states they relate to include modesty, humility, shame, shyness, coyness, chastity etc.

9: Symbols as Models--Geertz

Welcome to Section 9 of Symbols & Society. The title of the reading is "Religion as a Cultural System", but I think it should be "Religion is a Set of Symbols". Geertz tells us that symbols provide a model of how the world and universe are made up. Symbols also provide a model for how to live. What is the difference between models of- and models for-? When do they come together? Why should we care?

The Geertz text we read this week can equally be considered a theory of religion or a theory of symbols. By way of background, if you're interested in seeing the text as a theory of religion, you might want to watch the following:

Understanding Geertz

Now it's time to read Geertz's "Religion as a Cultural System", in which the author argues that religion is a set of symbols. I have summarized it here.

You might then like to watch my presentation:

 

'Models of' and 'Models for'

Now I'll try to summarise the theory in 150 words or less: Humans are born without sufficient survival instincts. We need culture to survive; agriculture; horticulture; fishing; herding and so on. Culture is outside of our heads when we are born; we need to get it in. Culture takes the form of symbols and we get it in through symbols. There are two kinds of symbols 'Models of' show you the way the world is. 'Models for' tell you how to behave in the world. Outside of religion, these are separate. They come together in religious rituals like 

1. Baptism. Model of = baptism of Christ; model for = how to behave now you're born again.
2. Christmas. Model of = Mary, Joseph & Christ; model for = your family is & should be holy like there's is. The nativity scene is really real, and that is what your family should be like. 

This is a photo of an evacuation plan. It tells you what to do in a fire. It is, therefore, a "model for". It is not used in a ritual, therefore, it is not associated with the religious perspective.

Geertz's Perspectives

Religion is a part of culture. So religion is also constructed out of symbols. But religions is characterized by a certain attitude towards the world, which is distinct from other attitudes within a culture. Geertz identifies four attitudes or "perspectives" as he calls them:

•  Common sense perspective. According to a common sense perspective, you don’t go for a swim in a flooding river, because you might drown. You drink water if you're thirsty. You water plants. This perspective is based on an unquestioning acceptance of reality as it appears to the five senses. Geertz characterises this as a kind of naive realism.

From the current scientific perspective, water is the liquid phase of a bond between an oxygen atom and two hydrogen atoms

• Scientific perspective. According to the scientific perspective, reality isn’t as it appears. For example, 99% of the H2) molecule, and thus water itself is space. But water doesn’t appear as space. 

Renoir's aesthetic perspective of water

• Aesthetic perspective. Different aesthetic perspectives can be seen when you compare how Turner, Renoir, or Hokusai paint water. It's how we see the world with 'artistic' eyes.



Hokusai's aesthetic perspective of water.

•  Religious perspective. According to the religious perspective, reality is merely an illusion. There is another order; you can’t experiment, you can’t see it, but appears as super important; really real. Of course, you can drown in water, but, aside from the obvious depriving the body of oxygen, what is really happening when you drown? For example, if you think of meeting the love of your in such terms as “it was fate”, “it was meant to be”. For example, Jeff Buckley [90s musician] died swimming in the Mississippi. People, even atheists, of my generation say things like "his music lives on", "fate took him" etc..  And maybe that same water is used baptize people so that they can be born again. That's what the water is really about, from a religious perspective. The religious perspective is always about purpose and meaning; it's not necessarily about afterlife, spirits, God etc.

These Baptists can perceive water from common sense, scientific, and aesthetic perspective. To some extent, these are distractions from what is really real; a miraculous power in the water to absolve sins and, through the power of the Holy Spirit, to enable you to be reborn.

Applying Geertz: Australian secular religion

I grew up steeped in contemporary Australian religion of professed atheism. I couldn't understand how anyone could be so naive as to believe in God. As far as I could discern, it was like believing in Santa Claus, Easter Bunny and other make-believe characters that make us feel good. I even got to the point that I was convinced that believing in God was a collective delusion bordering on madness. I wasn't so much scared of a universe without a God; I was scared of a world where many people could indulge in such a fantasy! 

When I studied philosophy at Uni, I was shocked to learn that perfectly good arguments pointed to the existence of God. That still wasn't enough. Deep down, I felt the believers were mistaken. That changed after reading Geertz. 

Geertz allowed me to see a different perspective that 'religious people' took. They see everyday reality as merely an illusion. They believed that what was really happening lay behind the deceptive surfaces of appearances. Then, as 'religious' began to appear less crazy to me, I began to see myself as religious.

For Australian nationalists, the water around Anzac Cove isn't just any water.
From a really real perspective, it will forever contain the blood of young Australians and their sacrifice for us.

Following that, I had a reflective moment. I came to see my secular, atheist beliefs as deeply religious. I tried to express this latter perception in this brief opinion piece. It applies Geertz's ideas to Australian 'religion'. The piece seems irreverent and disrespectful to me now--I wish I had got the tone better. Because I think the Digger or the Battler is just as worthy of respect as the chishinga (Week 8) or the Virgin of Guadalupe (Week 7). 

You might also want to listen to me (and others) interviewed in a radio program about religion: http://www.abc.net.au/radionational/programs/earshot/the-accidental-atheist/7889880

I think the interviewer thinks I 'beg the question'; I didn't manage to convince him!

Evaluating Geertz 

We need to look at critiques of Geertz, for several reasons. 

1. In teaching this subject, and in my thinking more generally, I have been heavily influenced by Geertz. To provide balance I need to give some air to opposing positions. 
2. As Geertz remains the towering figure in the study of symbols within anthropology, the scholars who critique are also among the most influential anthropologists. To read critiques of Geertz is to gain understanding into other profound theoretical positions.
3. One of the aims of this unit is to develop your ability not just to understand and recognize different theories. Granted this is difficult in itself, but to think like an anthropologist you need to go further. You must be able to situate the theories historically and reflect upon them critically. For these three reasons, we focus on two critiques of Geertz.
   

Rosaldo's critique

Renato Rosaldo was doing fieldwork with his wife, also an eminent anthropologist, among headhunters in the Philippines. She died. He felt so much rage he could now understand the feeling of headhunters. This understanding enabled him to critique Geertz's theory.  Please read the section entitled "How I Found Rage in Grief" in the "Grief and a Headhunter's Rage".

You might also want to listen to my interview with anthropologist, Monika Winarnita, and what she has to say about Rosaldo and Metcalf (who critiqued Rosaldo).

Asad's critique  

Asad also famously critiqued Geertz's use of the term "religion" in Asad's "The Construction of Religion as an Anthropological Category". I have summarized Asad's argument in a blog. But, of course, it's much better to read Asad himself. 

Discussion

In this subject, I also have a special topic based around Geertz's description of ritual meals, called "slametan". So if you want to read more Geertz, you could start there.

Summary

For Geertz, culture (and religion within it) is a system of symbols. These symbols are models of the universe and models for how to behave. ‘Models of’ and ‘Models for’ appear just like theories until you experience ritual. Ritual is crucial to bringing them together and making them seem uniquely real. The uniquely real (not necessarily the supernatural) is religion. This is why the atheist, sceptic etc is religious in Geertz’s sense; because she will go to family dinners, sports parties (Superbowl, Grand Final, FA Cup, World Series etc.) BBQs, Christmas Lunch, and find that this is really real.

8. Symbols: Explaining, Using, & Positioning--Turner

Welcome to Section 8 of Symbols and Society. In Section 7, we considered Wolf's idea that a symbol can mean different things to different groups in a society.This week we turn to another Symbolic Anthropologist, who also takes an interpretive rather than structural approach. 

 Turner & rites of passage 

Turner is well-known for his analysis of rites of passage. I've presented on rites of passage here: 

This week I turn to a less-known, though equally important, aspect of his work.

Explaining, Using, & Positioning

In this section, we Turner’s analysis of the forked stick. Here are my notes on Turner. Turner  shows how a symbol can create profound meanings, can form social bonds, and can help organise and order other symbols within a culture.

In this presentation I outline Turner's idea that we explain symbols; we put them to use in rituals; and we see the world through them:

Here are my notes for the Turner presentation.

Ndembu hunting clans and the forked stick

Ndembu men are called by hungry spirits to join hunting clans. A man so afflicted, hunts animals to appease the spirit. When the man is successful in the hunt, he hangs some of the meat on a monument/shrine made out of a stick with a fork at its end. This shrine is called a "chishing'a" in Ndembu. The stick is driven into the soil so it stands upright. The hungry spirit can now eat the meat it craved. But this fork is much more than just an object to feed spirits. This forked stick symbolizes the slaughterous power of the hunting clans. (As I mentioned in the Introduction to this course, we can compare the symbolism to the violent potential of 'thugs' in gangsta rap.)

Exegesis

When Turner asked Ndembu hunters what the word "chishinga" means, the answer he gives is that the word "chishing'a" is closely related to the word "curse". And this is because hunters are cursed. Their friends and family will be jealous of their success. and jealousy). Similarly if an anthropologist asked a Crip in South Central Los Angeles in the 1980s what the word "Crip" means, the Crip might explain that it is a political word, meaning "Community Revolution in Progress". Both of these examples are what Turner calls "exegetical meaning" of the symbols.

Operation

When Turner observed how Ndembu actually use the shrine, he noted what was done with the symbol and who did it. As he records, only hunters may cut a chishing'a. They prepare the shrine together (showing the unity of cult). Also the hunter takes his kill first to the shrine. Similarly our anthropologist in 1980s LA, might observed that only Crips have the right to make the "C" sign with their hands and fingers. Also this 'signing' can be part of gang dancing (the "Crip Walk"); tattooing (a Crip might tattoo the hand sign for "C" on his back); graffitti (the hand sign might be spray painted on a wall) etc. Both of these examples (hunters and their Chishing'a as well as Crips and their hand "C" hand sign) are instances of what Turner calls the "operational meaning" of the symbol.

Position

Turner also attended to the way the chishing'a as a symbol related to other symbols in Ndembu culture. He noted that it was situated in relation to major symbols of the landscape; of fertility; and of [masculine] virility. Similarly, my imaginary anthropologist doing fieldwork in 1980s LA might observe that the color blue is related to Crips, but also ties in with the L.A. Dodgers. So Crip members wore Dodgers sports gear and blue 'flags' (bandanas). These were worn hanging out of the pocket and were sacred in the sense that if our imaginary anthropologist pulled on one of these and blew his nose in one, he might find himself beaten or dead. The way these symbols (Chishing'a as well as the color blue) relates to other symbols in the larger constellation of signs is what Turner calls the "positional meaning".

Summary

So Turner saw symbols as being more than things which we attach meaning to. They are also things we talk about and explain (exegesis), that we use in rituals (operation), and that we make sense of the world through (position). These are the exegetical, operational, and positional ways of using symbols.


In Section 9, we return to question of the meaning we attach to symbols, through the theory of Clifford Geertz.

Blood Symbolism: Thicker than water? (Special Topic 2)

It is quite common for newcomers to anthropology to believe that there is a scientific basis to their beliefs about blood. However, many of our beliefs about blood are not scientifically testable or provable through science. They belong to another domain of belief; a domain which we could call 'worldview' (following Sapir & Whorf), or 'religious' (following Geertz), or 'ideology' (following Marxists). Maybe I'll just call it 'symbolic' here.

So let's analyse our thinking about blood. Imagine I time travel back to the 1800s and meet a nobleman. He tells me that his blood is blue. I point out that in his last battle when he was struck by an arrow, red fluid splattered everywhere. He agrees that red blood was visible, but still contradicts me. The blue blood is an invisible quality. It might even be hidden within the red blood I saw. The blue blood is not a visible, scientific quality. It is what we might call word view, or religious belief, or ideology, or simply symbolic belief.

To take a contemporary example.  If I say I will stand up for and protect my mother, "because blood is thicker than water", I'm saying that we share the same blood and that blood is extremely important. However, scientifically speaking, her blood type is different to mine. So what is this blood we share? It is an imaginary substance which I care much more about than trivial issues like whether my mother is A and I'm AB. But this idea of sharing blood with my mother is culturally specific! As we will see below, the Alwad 'Ali Bedouins don't believe I share blood with my mother.


Indeed, blood has poignant symbolic meanings in many different cultures. In this advanced special topic, I start out be comparing a scientific and cultural understanding of blood in European, Bedouin, and Melanesian cultures. Then I look at the two kinds of blood among Awlad 'Ali Bedouins as providing a strong tie with male ancestors. This contrasts strong with Melanesian ideas which see blood as contaminating and feminine.  To make sense of this, I use a Geertzian analysis of symbols.

Blood symbolism in European cultures

Thicker than water

To analyse blood symbolism, we could start by considering "heart" and "blood" in European cultures. These body components have strong symbolic connotations. When we say, for example, "she plays piano with a lot of heart" we don't mean that she takes a lot of her cardiac muscle out of her chest and strikes the piano keys with it. Similarly, if I say "I have got bad blood with my teacher", I'm not literally referring to plasma and platelets. Yet some of us feel heartache and broken-hearted, literally, in the area of our cardiac muscle.

Scientifically speaking, of course, members of a family have different blood types--and that's just the start of it. And yet we feel as if, literally, our family members share the same blood.  This symbolic aspect of blood and heart is something we know and feel, strongly, but it's certainly not science rather it's culture. So when we say to our brother "blood is thicker than water" we are not talking about the blood  you can see using a microscope in a lab. Indeed, you'll never find the symbolic qualities of blood that way. And that's one thing that holds true of blood symbolism in all culture. So how is blood understood in different cultures?

Blood symbolism in Bedouin cultures

Blood symbolism among the Awlad 'Ali Bedouins

In Veiled Sentiments, Abu-Lughod describes life in a community of Awlad 'Ali  Bedouins. Her classic ethnography focuses on ghinnawas, deeply personal women's poems about love, longing, etc. If you're interested in more about the book please check out my summary of Chapter 1:

However, my interest lies in the book's description of symbolic aspects of blood. As Abu-Lughod explains it, the Alwad 'Ali Bedouins share some of European ideas about blood. Indeed, blood seems even more significant. Everything important aspect of identity and social life is tied up with blood:

key principles of social organization: geneaology and a tribal order based on the closeness of agnates (paternal relatives) and tied to a code of morality, that of honor and modesty...[These] principles define individuals' identities and the qualities of their relationships to others These principles are gathered up in the Alwad 'Ali notions of "blood" (40-41).

The Alwad 'Ali have two conceptions of blood. But before analyzing these two conceptions, we need to get a handle on how they understand family. This relates to the idea of patrilineality.

Patrlineal

For a description of patrlineality in Bedouin kinship see this superb blog: https://www2.palomar.edu/anthro/marriage/marriage_3.htm

Alternatively, I attempt to describe it here, but please get a pen and paper for yourself

Finally, another way to understand patrilineal blood, think of 'traditional' surnames (second names) in England. My name is Nicholas Herriman, so "Herriman" is my surname. My father's father is a Herriman. My father, me, my siblings, my children, my brother's children, for example, all belong the same patrline. They are Herrimans. However, my sister's children, my aunt's children belong to their husband's patriline. They do not take the Herriman name. And, if we were Bedouins, we would not think that they were part of my family.

(There is one big problem with my analogy. In many European cultures the woman takes her husband's surname, as if she now belongs to her husband's people. Amongst the Bedouins, my sister belongs to my people, once and for all).

If you're still unclear on the concept of "patrilineal descent", please refer to a book on kinship; the standard undergraduate work, Schutsky, Manual for Kinship Analysis. In its glossary "PATRLINEAL DESCENT" is defined as "a system which affiliates ego with a group of kinsmen, all of whom are related to him through males"(92). The author provides more detail on pages 24-28.

Once you're clear on patrilineal descent, we can move onto the two kinds of blood described by Abu-Lughod. 

Asl: Blood of pedigree

One is asl. Asl is the original blood that they share with the forebears who once lived in Arabia before moving to North Africa. All Awlad 'Ali Bedouins have this blood. It's their pedigree.

One analogy might be to the idea that all nobles and aristocrats in England have 'blue blood'. Their bodily substance was apparently distinct from that of commoners. If you say of a merchant community that "business is in their blood", that's a similar idea.

This "asl" is what makes the Bedouin men fearless and generous and Bedouin women modest and honourable. Lacking this asl, the Nile Egyptians, Christians and others will never attain the Bedouin's moral character.

Garaba: Blood of patrilineal kin

The other idea of blood is garaba. This is like the blood we talk of when we say "blood is thicker than water". It is the blood that we share with members of our family. One difference with Bedouins is that the the family or blood is understood to descend only down a male line. Put another way, this blood is patrlineal.

In this presentation, I summarize the sections of Veiled Sentiments, in which Abu-Lughod describes the two kinds of blood:

Blood symbolism in Melanesia

Melanesia has an astonishing variety of societies. If we consider just one part of Melanesia, the island of New Guinea, a great diversity presents itself. One general point of difference emerges: for the Bedouin blood is honourable (asl) and descends (garaba) down the male line; in New Guinea, blood is evil and contemptible and is passed down from the mother.

Poisonous Blood: Menstruating Men

 One theme that emerges in many of the New Guinea cultures is a fear or terror, among men, of blood as an evil, feminising force. The classic account of this comes from the island of Wogeo in Hogbin's, Island of Menstruating Men. I have summarised a few pages of this, in which Hogbin describes men cutting their penises in order to shed contaminating blood.

The Wogeo believe women have a deadly power over men. The touch of a menstruating woman can kill a man. So men blame women for all their problems, but women also blame men. Furthermore, Wogeo men and women wish remain separate as from each other as possible. The problem, as they see it, is that contact is unavoidable.

Sex should avoided before embarking on important ventures. Nevertheless, sex with spouses, not to mention adultery, is common. This is because, though enjoyable, sex is also dangerous

So cleansing from this contamination of contact is necessary. You cleanse yourselfe by menstruating. Menstruating is easy for women; men, by contrast, must periodically cut their penises. So, periodically, a Wogeo man:

goes to a lonely beach, and wades out till the water is up to his knees. He stands there with legs apart and...induces an erection. When ready he pushes back the foreskin and hacks the glans.

Blood and Semen

A chapter by Hauser-Schaublin on blood shows how in several mainland New Guinea societies blood is thought to be contaminating and associated with women. Semen (or sometimes grease) is associated with men. Both substances are necessary to create babies, but the semen provides the hard, durable elements of the body, like bones and teeth. Furthermore, this semen dates back to the ancestral father of the clan and is passed on down the male line. The blood of the women by contrast dies with her. Semen is perpetual; blood is temporal. This presentation provides an overview of the fist half of that chapter:

Summary

In various Melanesian, European, and Bedouin cultures blood is something that is passed down from one or both parents to children. Blood explains certain aspects or characteristics in children. But who passes down the blood, what characteristics are associated with this blood, and what implications result differ markedly between the cultures. 

Geertzian Analysis

Anthropology furnishes us with many other fascinating examples of the symbolism associated with blood. Using different anthropological theories provides with different insights. Let's consider Geertz's theory.

Geertz would say that this blood symbolism is 'really real'. It has nothing to do with scientific knowledge of the world. Rather it something that lies behind appearances. In other words, you could go back to the court of the Sun King, Louis XIV, in 1700s France, and convince the nobility of our contemporary scientific understanding of blood types, plates, plasma, haemoglobin etc. But you would not be able to convince them that in a 'really real' sense (in the reality of the universe that lies behind the appearances of things) that their blood was really blue.

Similarly when I think of blood being thicker than water, I believe that in a true sense my kin (and I understand my kin in a typical Anglo-Australian way) share the same blood as me. Again, it's not the blood types, plates, plasma, haemoglobin understanding of blood. Instead it's something deeper, more profound.

Further Research

That's what Geertz might say. What about you? Which theory do you think would be most illuminating when considering the blood symbolism described above?

Bibliography

Abu-Lughod, Lila. 1986. Veiled Sentiments: Honor and Poetry in a Bedouin Society. Berkeley, University of California Press.

Geertz, C 1966. 'Religion as a Cultural System', in M Banton (ed.), Anthropological Approaches to the Study of Religion, Tavistock Publications, London, pp. 1-46.

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