UCSP TG SHS v.1

Understanding Culture, Society, and Politics Teacher ’s Guide

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Department of Education Republic of the Philippines

All rights reserved. reserved. No part of of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

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Anne Lan Candelaria (PhD) Jose Jowel Jowel Canuday Canuday (DPhil, Oxon (DPhil, Oxon.) .) Czarina Saloma (Dr. rer. soc.) Nico N. Aquino Kalenna Lorene S. Asis Dr. Evelyn V. Avila Elisa Bustamante Reynora Laurenciano Jeffrey Anthony F. Reyes Neil Vincent Sandoval Cover Art: Quincy D. Gonzales Layout: Ivy Dumarada Illustrations: Jayson Villena

Management Team of the UNDERSTANDING CULTURE , SOCIETY, AND POLITICS Teacher’s Guide

Bureau of Curriculum Development Bureau of Learning Resources

Printed in the Philippines by ____________ Department of Education-Bureau of Learning Resources (DepEd-BLR) Office Address: Ground Floor Bonifacio Building, DepEd Complex Meralco Avenue, Pasig City, Philippines 1600 Telefax: (02) 634-1054 or 634-1072 6 34-1072 Email Address: [email protected] Address: [email protected] / [email protected] [email protected]


TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter 1: Introducing Culture, Society, and Politics ………………………….. ………………………….. 1

Lesson 1: Making Sense of Our Everyday Ever yday Experiences ....................................... ....................................... 3 On culture ....................................................... .................................................................................. ...................................... ........... 5 On society ......................................................... .................................................................................... .................................... ......... 7 On politics ...................................................... ................................................................................. ....................................... ............ 9 Lesson 2: Understanding the Concepts of Culture, Society, and Politics ……... 11 Aspects of culture ............................................................................... ............................................................................... 11 Sociological Approaches to the Study of Society …………………... 12 Discerning Politics ………………………………………………….. 13 Chapter 2: Tracing Human Evolution and Sociocultural and Political Transformations …………………………………………………….. 19

Lesson Less on 1: Human Biological and Cultural Evolution …………………………. 21 The Concept and Study of Evolution ………………………………. 22 The First Humans …………………………………………………... 25 Cultural and Sociopolitical Evolution …………………………….... 29 Museums and Material Culture …………………………………….. 43 Chapter 3: Becoming a Member of Society ……………………………………. 48

Lesson 1: Enculturation and Socialization ……………………………………. 52 Lesson 2: Conformity and Deviance ………………………………………….. 58 Lesson 3: Human Dignity, Rights, and the Common Good …………………... 59 Chapter 4: Organizing Society ………………………………………………….. 66

Lesson 1: Exploring Groups Within Society ………………………………….. 68 Lesson 2: Examining Examining Cultural, Social, and Political Institutions …………….. 71 Chapter 5: Ranking Groups in Society ………………………………………… 81

Lesson 1: Social and Political Stratification ………………………………….. 82 Theories of Social Stratification …………………………………… 84 Global Stratification and Inequality ……………………………….. 88 Chapter 6: Making Society Better …………………………………………….... 99

Lesson 1: Final Lesson ……………………………………………………….. 101 Additional Readings …………………………………………………………….. 127

iii


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: e l t i 2 1 T t r o c e 1 j 1 b u : e S d e a r r o G C

e n t d h a o n a t e , i n m u c s n h c e i t , m e s m e p e a r h n t t u m y l o d e c u g l c l a a a c g r n i n u t a t i e l m l o u u c p d n h a t d d ; u n n a a k r o l l o b a a i a i w c c s o o s s i c a e s , t l d i i p a l o r l o e u e p r t i l v e u u d c n q d a c f o y a d n t s a d l s e ; i e u c n o s e o e h c s s i r a , s d y t j u w a c n e n e r ’ e d p s t g u a t n s e n e d , m o a u e c t s r s m r e u u p v h o o o c l , e e o r e t v u h e t t s d l s f u o t c o e n e y d v . w g i n o e s s o h l u n o f e l o i c i t o h c n t i u o t l t i S g t n a s i A i d n d . c n i s n a a l o s d , t a n e o r a c s g d n e , n a t s d e i n k n c e m s r o S u m i n l w v p t a i a t o c l i a e n t l t i h , i e e v l r e l s o w d e i P t i , m n a r n y u e a t u g l h t m o u l u c m e h o d m p e o i t z o c v i r o n , n h e s t r r g p n p r o u c u A ; o y c e r t s r g m i ; ’ s o s r y h r c i t r i f e v t t n s i i w t l d u h o s o l g p : i a c n o n s r e d i n t o i u h n t i t a c t s l a u r p f e y i c e t s o t r e i u c n o i t s n c e e r o s o y i s i t t D r e i u a , h e v o t n y i s t i c e r c s i n s m d u i i a e o h n u x g e C T s e a g

U P S 2 1 1 / 1 I 1 a P S C U

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s n l o i a t l c l a a i t a i v l i r c r l a o o u i e s t c s p l b , d s s o u c o e , e s n c n a n t , i e a a i o n e l t e m i t g r u t a f u i e n c h i a n t f e n r i h a r a o v d c d i .1

Y G C N N I E N T R E A P : r E M s L O e n C r a

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f o g n i d n a t s r s e i c d t i n u l o e p h t d r n o a f , y s t t e n i i o c p o s , g e n r i t u r l a t t S u c . A

U P S 2 2 1 / 1 I 1 a P S C U

U P S 2 3 1 / 1 b 1 I P S C U

U P S 2 4 1 / 1 b 1 I P S C U

e d h t f d n a e o n s y r o i t c a l i , s p y s t o x m i e e i e a r i t u i o n t y c c t d o s n e s e t s d d d a e i n n r n a a l t s a s n n c r n e i o e p i t u i t o g l m e i r l o d n a o u c p . 2

, l a c i t i e l o g n p a , h l c a i l c a o r s t u l e z c y u l a d n a n a . 3

s n n i o o t m c e m s r o e c t n e i h t r o e z s i n r n e g c o n c e r o c . 4

, , l e y a t l g d c n g a n i n i o s t e a s l i a c r e r h o a i n o e e i c d e c t n a f a s c i c f n u o l n t , d i l i n o a n n d a m e t n a e i , S u i a e a o f l v c m , c s h i d v d a o o t o i r r e y n e c n e h s g S a s e l e a i c l , t s t g i e e r a p n i o s w l h b e n l a d c a e o e c i o i i t e o o i o n v p t t l c l l n i t c a n p p o l i p l i h s e i l a d l i w a , a o t c e o g l o r r c r t o r c e p a u s a u i t u f u o l P e d p n l e r i h i t t t i o l p d k c c d f r f t n i f c h e a u c d n a d a t a o s u c t r p a o A n a o s . . . 1 2 3 l f , a o r e l e u g , e d a l t s n c l c a n e , a i n u a n s t c h a i c n g e , o , y s i c l o l n i c n e i t i t n e o i c a l t i r f r i a t t p y i a a e t a u i i r e i d n i t n d l f m i l r c c f e h e i e g t u u c i o u a n o o o d h h v s d s a i t s s c s p t . . . 1 2 3 l a i , c y l o t i s a r c n ) i s u , n o a r y t l n t h i s e t / u l t y a c n d e i , t n e n d l s e o d a n s i g u : l t a t n a l o a s s c t n a f e c i i , l o p i p c y e t o s i c s m m l x o a f d a n e n x o u e o , n o o ( c n i g t n r e o s g i i r o g p r k e o i a i c c t l h a c c o e S b a s r x e

, a n l e , a c m y i a t o b i l n e o m ) h t p a s p , s n l o i d a t i , i n s c a o c e o s r o l e o b t i , a s u v t o a e i b a h e d o t s b o a s f n l n : y o a s r i d t e l u l t a l p a v u c r i m c e t i a s l d b n x e o O a ( p

d n c , i a , g l l b n a t u c i i x p ) t t i l m l : a s o s i c e o r p l l , p , e l e t a s m i e n c a u i l l x o i s ( e o v m n a h o e f t g s l u n n a a o n o h i o y t c , i a t s l a v e a r r c i e s u n s t v n l r b u a r e O c t s

. 1

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iv All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

U P S 2 5 1 / 1 b 1 I P S C U

E D O C

e h t e l l y a a o g f t o c g c i i n o t t f s o i t c a t l Y i l l h c e i o o o s P c e G C , p l j p N y s f b a , c o N e o u o y S I E g d r o n s g g N T l h n a t o e d l o d n i , R E o n p h n y w e t a o a A P o , r g e y y p E M h m f o e o c l c r t i r L O n o n o i t n h u e n t e n a i e i C f c i e q n c h o c d n o s s p i i A S . 5


, y d g g D T R i n o n a N A y l o l , y g E d a p e o c l u o c T D t i n i r t s N i N h l i e o t r A o c O T f o n a p c s o s C S

T N E T N O C

l a c i t i l o p , y g o l o y g p o o l r o h i t c n a o s f o d n n o a , i t e i c n n i f e e i D c s . 4

c I S C D 1 6 1 C P S C U

l a r c e i u t g l o u l c o a p l c n o o i r g h t e o s y l n v t o i e a i t i c c c n i o a o s e s p l s r p d d x e n a e p n a . 1 e y h g t o l f o i o m o r e f c o r u y s t t a e d n i f n c o a e o y s h t d s g e o e n i v l t t o a a i c p e c e o r e r p u s h r t p l r t p a u c e p n a . 1

S C D 2 1 / 7 1 c 1 I C P S C U

S C D 2 8 1 / c 1 I 1 P S C U

S C D 2 9 1 / 1 d 1 I P S C U

x d e n l a p y m t e o i c c a o s s e a b e i r e r u l c t o s l h e u d c w . 2

e r u t l u c f o s t c e p y s a t e i y c f o i t s n d e d i n a . 3

a f d o s r e a n i o t w i e o t t a i c i s o s n c e r o d i p t n p s a a e u i c s e q t r s u e i t s l l i o a r h u c . 4

e r u c t i l t u s i c l f o h o a g n e i t y d t a r n e t i a s c s n t o o r e s d m d e n d u n a . 2

S C D 2 0 1 / 1 1 d 1 I P S C U

d n a m s y m s i h i t v r w i n t f a e c o l o e e r n r h a l t a r w u e a t s e e l t u c a m g o i w t c i e o b h m . 5

c d i n t a r n e e e g c c a a t l o n i r p h e t f h o e l e g a n r d i i u e r t l p b u t s c s u e h o e u r t l p i a v x e w . 3

, o y f t y o t t s , s e e e f i s e t i , s s h c c p e , e v o c c c l i , e o o v v i i l l i i a a s c t t t y s t a a a i i o n t , , ) n r l l r d c c r l e o e p t e o e r i o u i a o u a r r t p c r t p p p p c , u u p c r s o c i . s t t t e a e l d e e i t u r m i d n / s t r h l . e u n u n o u i n h n r T c a p i t c a i ( c h t s f c . . 1 2 , d s a r 0 n e a o 2 g e g h l e e u l 9 n n i a 1 i v h n n i c s b i a t o o r t h s c a h v , t r a i i i t a r n t t e t , t s o p y i s h a a a e h n w l s r s l i n t s z d v t o y e e e o e l i u i e c c o r l a v t A i P l g n i a T f a s e e a d o t ( i . i p r e h r t d c c e ) s B o h r d u n a a n f . & m h o t , a d s w n e r f i a e l g d t s t e i t e E , a p x p s s l u , s u ( b e d e h g t , n , c y f a ” o e s a a e t r i l t l g r o n m . f s e g n a e x r u p i h e u t d i i e y t p n / g e d o o o t c u e m l n e r n r n n n n i e : l C c a d o o o o r o e , l a F i a h o i s e e l i t r g t S c s c b , t l w d s t u “ s o o i c & f n d a d e t g , t s i a i i r l w t s d d o t e u e e z e a u a e n n r r a a n i o m f e s m n t i l e n y l r k r c u s s s l t r r o a a p t a u , r e g , i a n s a s n u l a i a a t t , n l s s e r e t a m c c ) u t p l e h a e e y y o e e p b ] S e o L n a n r o q o d C e m r m 1 D r c e P I T s R a u b u i t o t 7 g t l i m a m e 8 n c t u c o m . . . . . i o n t . b . d y h [ a c e f g n S c C e a s t m 1 i f e D . . . 1 2 B v

All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

E D O C

Y G C N N I E N T R E A P E M L O C

S C D 2 1 1 / 1 1 e 1 I P S C U

e d n l b a i e g g a n t a i t r e f h e s e o h s l e t o m b t r i s o g f n t a y t a e f r i n h t i t n e d e d i n a h t . 6


T D N R E A T D N N O A C T S

T N E T N O C

S B H 2 2 1 / 1 1 e 1 I P S C U

S B H 2 3 1 / 1 1 f 1 I P S C U

S B H 2 4 1 / 1 1 f 1 I P S C U

f , n l s l y o i , s g l s a t r s e n d e e a e m c i c d a c n d i s n c c f l e n u u i e t e n n s a n l n i o o i a e l l e l e a f a b f a n a a e s c l e f l d o , s o s i c m a l u c i r v e a o r o m p e a i f o a v n r n c o a i r e t t u g p n m i t u c s d s i i r a l n h l n i g x l o d n a g , t a d a g u i s m i i o l e n p g a c t e o t u u i l e t i z l s r e l u c d n a a s i e t i o o h p l i u o t l i g n m l e a a c s e v a a i m b e n n c o e i a l c o a h a i n m t m f r t n n i z c a e l r h i e e u o o e c e c o e e c t r i h t c r , d i r n n l t t a e r c r p l e u u b r p r o l a a p g o e s a a h e u r p o l i c t t o t c e c d c d d s a o o d m l m p t a i u d n r u o x n o o n t c t e h a i s n a e r n a n a i h t o b v e n a . . . 1 2 3 , l a c n o i g l i t o a l u c o d f l o i n o i t a b i l v e s f d e o n r e p s u o o a s t u i m p a c i e u b e h o h f s s l y n n l i e i i o d t n k s s d t a e e e a l p s n l z a s a e o r y l r e c l u c t e r a t e l o n t r a v e n u A i c p h t d s l n r a i f d c g o i o i f n n t f o n o s a i r n l i e o e t i y e l o t s o i e e a l i n n s t a p r r r t c o e a h a u t t o l u r t u m p c t u i m d a a o l l l o p c e r u u h n a a c u c h t u c h d a p u c o s v e . . . 1 2 3

m d : e o n n n r h , a t o f o t l i i o d l : n a e - t r t a r n u d e d u h m r n t l o n l t u s n o n t s a o u c i a o m o o t l t o o e o i l v n H i v e t r t u u p e s r t u n l e s a l a e o i c C g o e n o l d t i R i o c d t v m i o s n n a i i v t t n ) i t o s c e g o r B e r o i c r a i a a n n i a z t e f t r e l l , h u a r s i z i i t i f a p e l l l h n i w a t s t i r m m o e r e o l i a o s a m o v n u a h p g t r o o i t h a r s a t m i e t r o p m t l e c c s i o o r a c f t u r u n i d d u c t N l m i c n d l , n H c ( y o o u o e s s f n m e r o i i e r a t n d s s n o h o e t i a i s e n s a v h , a i i i o n v a s g e s c s , o t l T E r D d f a i i n i e n l t k n l a a f r m a b p u l t s c a u r h r s a l l a a e t a a . n n . b . c u a a o c s l c o i h s a u t e b v i f E R i c t i l r l s i g r h t n o u l b n g s o m i u i e t n E l o u o i . P u m c l o r h p c k l p a d o i u o i g a r n o o c o B H s C f a i L S . . . 3 2 . 1 C

vi All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

S M B 2 5 1 / 1 1 g 1 I P S C U

E D O C

s a n t o n i e s r t e a m t z h i p l o o a n l i d e c i o n v t a o e s a d f r f l u o t e e l h t t s c s u u c n ’ i n e d a e o l n r o p d p x e f o a n a


. 1 s e n g n u i i l r s a r E e o v h n C d t i g D n N o f n a i A R s h e o t A d i h s t e M m e w v r d c R D N o r s g n n e e O A n s i n a e l , u u F T f t y b y r c q o t R S i a e t e e e r s E i n e c n s b t e e P d t o i n o h i s o c t . 1 e e f s r T D o l u m t R t n a N A s l o e r u u t c E e t y d c e e b T D i b p e v n N i i m N w d r d m c e a A o i O T h n l e n a o c m o s C S . 1

T N E T N O C

S M B 2 6 1 / 1 1 g 1 I P S C U

S M B 2 7 1 / 1 1 h 1 I P S C U

d , n a t , x s e d t f n s n e o s s a o c e n n e o i c e c o o i n t r h t t p e a a , r u y t z u i f q n t l i l e t e a t s u i n n n c c e o o n d i c c e o s . 2

e s l e l b s a a t e o h g p t e l g a c c i n a i c v o y e s l i l e h a c h c t i a o s f s o e i e s f i h t s t n l n a a e d e d I n a m o g . 3

n l e i o s a f i n i l t m c i e o a y a v l s t o a n b n d f i o a y n o r i r p s s m e f e e l v o o t g e e o u r t n e l f n s e o e i o o r n l l h y t t o a e p h t c i s h l a s t c s i r e e e b r d d s t a s n t n n a i s n a i a

e t o f m o o r e p d u l d o a v n a o e s g n h t t h o g e i m z r i m n n a o g o m c c e u t e h r h

. 2

. 3

S M B 2 8 1 / 1 1 h 1 I P S C U

S M B 2 9 1 / 1 1 h 1 I P S C U

e v i s u l c n p i e i h t s a n c e o z i v t d i a c . 4

d n a , s f t h o g n i o r d i t , o o c y g e t i t n n o r i g o p e d m t m o n a o c m m o e r u p h h t . 5

e v a a y s h l t e f l i a o a n u b t d d r i c u i m a t v l u i i w d o p l o m o i n h h s s a p o c . 2

) s t n , e , l s , a ) m m e i i s e h t s c e n g i s i l t o i d h a o a s t i n n n . u , u t e t a g a y n p . o d t p i r , d r n n i e i i i e ( e t s ( a c ( i d p s a o , e n c s n s s i z n o s c a l a o i a e e t o i l g s l l i d l u ( s n e h v a t a b f g i e l a n a o r w i o i c v o d a v d r a e e r o m r r l , ) , r t d , n y n e S d s d , o n / n a t d b n f e n f o m o i a c m n a s o s i o i ) t m i s n o y e o l i r y i t s t a e t i l s g t s e c p m u d i i i g a v t a i a m a m e d r n t c r r t r o n n m e i a n u d s r a t o t r c o t o e n e s n a o l o g u I d N S g f S o F r i n c m m n i u m o n . . . . b . b o m E a c C a H c o c e . . . B 1 2 3 . D

vii All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

O S H 2 0 1 / 2 1 i 1 I I P S C U

E D O C


l a i c E o s C f N D o A R t s A c M e n D R N p o t O A s a i a F T e i z R S z n y l E a a g P n a r o . 1

d n a s e s i t k p r i o h s w t n i k e n l s a e i c c a r o t s . 1 l a i c o s s n n i o i t e t u l o t r i s s i n ’ e d n o n y a f i s p t u n o e d i r g . 2

O S H 2 2 1 / 2 1 j 1 I I P S C U

r o d i d n v e a z a h i e e f n i l b a g g r l a i n o i c n e o h s r e t f e o v o b g i e r r s c u e s l e t a d n u r . 2

o t l t a n i g e c n t i o a l s d r t d o n n c e a l c r a a e i t s f c n f f e i o i i d o s t n s f a a n e r z m i o i a o p s n r t a c i m m g r e n r h o o u c f o t f . 3

r e h , h c f / e s o u g i n s s h a n n h m o c i r i t o c x n f e i o a r s t t e f n u i h t a b t r g i o t , r y t e g e c s i n i z i i c i d m r o n e s a g o r h n o s d n o c w e r c e s a n a o . 3

f r t s s o s t j a s o a s a e m r s h n T D r d t m t r e n o n N R e r o , l t n a n i l o A o t i a E t l , i f a i c t l r u v T D a e o t p a a u i t a t i i i N N t t s d h a l l c c t s l o e e u n O A o o n e c s p i s a b r s T C S . 1

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, s r g e l n n o w e a o i u t g k d i o i t g t n p i a n a v i , s c r i e i r d h l f t e d r p a i l t h n i o a t i a d c r s f c e o s t s a o c a w n a . 2

s a d s n l t y e f d i i o a a t s n l n i s l e b a a u e i o a c l t r l u a i e t u g i i i q t c m c l e a e m o e o n f s o p i s h t o c . 3

, s d y l n t l o s o h i s a ) a y t t p t o i e n u r e s u g t y i i a u z o t d c ) r a s o s l m l o r d g p - e d n h a s i e ) a t r u c y s d t f e a l i g e r l u l o t t o o h p a t a a r i a o t i a i c t l n l g ” i m h y p i l , r s y d r t d o o n s n e t t o i l b i y a p n d n e s l o n o e t u a e , i C a o i p g u c a ( o c o r l t m m o ( z c i , u a p e o p i u a d l h e n a t i i d a e o s d o t s e r z n g a r l a y h s r d o i g r e n n n a u l a z c d n i y r u h e d a s o i a g i t n d g r l l l c n a n a a r i i i n r i o n r e r e t t s s a a b m r r r h p c k a l a s o t p f c k t , n a a s d e g y y y y , i n r . a b o s r ) b n d d f ) s r u e o r u o i i c m b p e o s w a o r o a r a e t D e e r , i o , c v p y w p p , p e s r s l s l a c c d t s m i i g t y f p s y e r h l r c c e a u i a s i e p n e , i h h e m r a r i i e M l o t n l n R N m e p i s s s B “ a h m e t l e c u a t P I v t s l o r u n n n m i r e o r . . . . o . . r i i a x n i s a i u r a o l g s l s G u d i l e y ( t i a b c d F a b l K K s r K e o , K F r , s P a c n y s w t g u t r n a e . a o o . a n i . . i . l C . a . e m b . d e e e l r m d H 1 2 n c e i r c t ( ( c 1 i r s a s m . u a e . a F M e r p N f E D

s e r u t c u r t s p i h s r e d a e l d n a l a c i t i l o P . 2

viii All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

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O S H 4 2 2 1 / a 1 I 1 I P S C U

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f o y s s t t e e i c i i v i c d l m n s e o a h o e n n t h o o n t c i o i e t a s n e z t i e z c l y n a p l a p o a g r n m e a o i p

f o n s n i s o i n t o c i t n u u f t i t e s t n a i i t e n t y e a t t r e s e i f n c f i o d n o s

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s d e n r a t u l a c i u c r t o s s l e a z c y i t l i l a n a o p . 4



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y c s a m n i o t n i i t o g i a t e l i c n l a s t z a d d i a m n n n n o m l o a a a i s a t n s s g s i f i y e d r d o r e t e d i i t o n b i a t i a r a l a h h r t o r a a B T C S h T C R c t i t u i l . . . . A . . . o i i i i i i i i i P i i i v i . . . a b 3

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y t e i c o a s s n i ) y a r l n n n a n o e o i o i z m t t i i t r a a t a o i c c z c u f u t i n h l d d e o a g e n i e i v u r f t y o d t c c r n a a u n s - m a a d f n l o a o r l r m e i u i t P S P h n c m o n r i t u o a F f ( . . . c i u . i i i i i d a E . 5

ix All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

O S H 8 2 2 1 / g 1 I 1 I P S C U

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, a e d n v n o r e t e t s ) Y t t c a a b s n e , C l f e a G . f o o c ; p N g e i N . l r t p I E i c ( e d a u c i u o a N T t t r n r n i a R E r a p r g o p i , t s A P t t s e n n u E M c a b e v o i o u r r i r i L O d t e e c g c f i s s C n l f e b e i o l e c o d r d e . 9

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t f o h g d i n l e a c i n i y t t c i a m r r s s e p i l v a e i r h u d t l e p l a m r z l s i u i a t n v l c i g i u t o d c a c e l e r m f o e r . 0 1

d n a t n s s o i l i e t a v a i n t c o i c i f e t i t c p a n r u s r t s f e p e t e n h c t i i l f m m n a o x r o e f c . 1 1

f o s c i t s i r e t c f a o r a s n o h i t c m e a y t c s i f i f y t i s t n a e h e t r d i t s . 2 1

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e t a t s s n d s o n i a m e g h t i l s c e y r r s u h d f c e e i z f l i l e o m b m i s a n n s e i d o o i i m n t e h s h t t a i u a r o t t n m i a n y i t o l p i n o o s e n g i A P M I S l e . . . . . R a b c d e . 6

n o d i n t a , n l e s a g v e n n e i o , l m ” r i t t p o t h i a r e , a g d d s a h i h i r n r s e g t y m n v u ) o s b , i e a . n t t c ” g s “ g a i m . a y g , f n e r u . i i s ) ) s a e ( h t c g d e n e y . u f g t s l y s e o l t a e s a i b i p n a ) s t a ( b o i a l s l C i , a l ” r s s a ( s / b ( c i a e e e s ” r h r e n s m h i g o C d f r m t t e i g e s i u e h l e l e t t e a t n t t m d e o s t a s s l e s a s d w s l l n h e o e e e r u y p l t l u n t a o r a y l “ S a w s H s i W l i C i P P O C a c c e . o . . . o . . . . l a S i H a b c a b c S a b c o . . . S 1 7 2 . G

x All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

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s s e r d d s a i e t o t i l a s y a u q e w i n t s l e a g g b o u s l g . 3 1

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s s e e g i t n e e i l l a n c o s h c a i n y m s r w u n a r e h n y i o o p y b t f a m l i t e d u n e p t n e c a o d i f p o c . 1 l a i c d o n s a l f s a l o i a c s d u o e n s d s a r i s v e s o i c f s n d o e o s n r i i i e t t p i v p y e t o i b n t u e a a s n n m u g s r o l n e e i m a a t s t v e h c s a l a c a o c . . 1 2

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, l a c i s w y n e h a n p l m r o e a t u u h t h t t l p n u a i w d c t n o e d h a s e n m s e g a e n b n i , i t l e a o r r l e i l c i i s a v c c e o d s h c o s n e . 2

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n o i t c a f o n a l p a p o l e v e d . 3

, e l a c g n i d a t i n h l c , a f o s o , s p l / n a s i o s , i e e l t s c t n a s m o u e o r e t s u g i c c t t a t l d o . s r u n p o u 1 i c n a a y i d , l n r d , n a o l s r e o a m t , , c a i y s d e u s i s a t t ) s c m i t i e n h l o m i g a s l p a t c t t a s i f n t e a o i i i e o a t c p l l l , o e a l u s i , u t f t a t n y o o a r t g s d s c s q t n i r e d c e s d n n d c i i p l n e i l o a a n , m v a h n , l a i f m . n n e c r p n l r ) f e c n c n e i a t n O s g a c d e o t e a g e b , . o m i i d a , f o d , i l d a . e n m n n c n n n n n t w , f n o c n g o c e ( o n , h . o u o u e a a e g o g i e t r s l h e f e s i t t a e d i n g m t p e b h g i ( , g a i a n t h n e , s v s e n a l w r m f i k o e o s i r h a t u o s e r n ) n v i r u y m u t o a t i t p p i n t g s t i t t e r e a s o o h i s n h n c l i r n a c t s h a , i n a , . o l e i e h c e n u n e c g s c s m e w t c d a , m o i s i i r t d a t c k z i g y l g o c f e m n c u i l . r n , t a t e n e c o h n n i i l i t . g r e ) n e i t a t r i a t e a l q o o i a n r g o o l h t p f g ( e i y a c i z s a n c e o e . g , v , i l t e a l t p c n i t r t r , i a o l i n o e W l t o b a n n g a m u a a e a e n i o u i t m r a i ( t a i i s m n s l r e m t r o z ) o n z q m a c l v t o ’ e t s c h i i i i s u l s n g a i i e e a i e r c t l i e l l l s e i a s n c , s n y r a , t m h n o l o n r r g g i n a n s a a a s d g s u e i o s i t s u . . b g s i i p i m n i c e d n n o p w g l e r f b n s c n c r c l o n f v d m a a o a l e e v . o o l v . c o o h l i l a r e a a c n e i l e o e m i o n h a I n e n e i e r i A a G M m G ( n c a c D g S c c t S p f r D t F N ( I g c c o o S . . . . . . . . . . . S 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 . 1 2 3 4 . H I

xi All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

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i u t l i o d t i d g J l u c o E d e o l u C S C E o e h h p h t . . ) . t t ( 4 o T 7 2 6 ) h r ” y 1 0 0 2 4 ( h . ( t g 0 0 1 0 s y n s o 2 l n ( 2 g c 2 . i A o o . n ( t o l i i i l t . l n k c i o a : u o l a o i r t s k g a P c u i t S t o t e n t . o l . o ) S u s c a ) n r H I 1 . K 3 . C n F “ 2 . . 0 e . T . 1 r 0 1 ) ) 0 C E d 2 e 2 1 2 f d n d ( 0 1 9 ( e n a n . 2 . . 0 9 . A a 1 R R a P , J 2 ( (

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xii All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

r o ’ e s c e d d i l n t o t s p e i o n c r i ’ a l h g i y s h o t r t t t s s s s i a e i l c r n e d i n a r e e n m e b g r l a r d l e l a o o e d i a a p e e i c e m h n C t k o a l t L h t t d i c e d o . l s m ‘ e c h f n l y o t ‘ n l n t i p o a l y h c a e a s ; c n l f w e u n w c u s e r i l t i u o r i a s a d f t a e o c r r s a r s n t i t o ; e e u i l n s o i l i e s m s a n n a A h i e h n h r t ( d u d a . a p ) u t z t e e l f r c m i s i l o t b r v e o u a u r r s i i e o c h e r c g o t c s h i r t i i t c g ] p w t o r e s g o m f s c i u p a a o a r h f i l m o t r e s p o [ e r h t e r u n l t r t d y e h a b n f n t e r c h g a i o a t a v o t ’ u i r o n s t l ( l e r s o d r t a o s e l p e d r o h n s a r a e e h h t o r i e l c e t t a c m g c x r l h i s b a i e n i d i s a r f t f l i l o y l e e m p s m v b o a d e a e o e l c i h r t a b l e d ‘ o p c o h o o o m c s g n u m a i e s b t a r r i h l y s c d a c l d o h e h h e b r n d a f n a v n g g n e u n c a w a h u a a d l t u t i u l e l , t n i h i e l n i c o o i d n u r t r l e r o h f a r c t o y h n e h o a h a r i h t h t t f a p w d s l i d s t o u u r l w d e r i n l s c , e i n l i t s e i e i u a s i h e d h t a l c a e t c v u e h a n l b e r r t l m p u d s a r t o r o t a e g d t o i p m t e e i i a u t o o g e o c t r b e a p i v u p r i s i c e d a d d h d f s y r e l d i l n o o o a e i s h p a n n v y n a t i i l k c p s n d i p m d c h t i s t o o e u i o n t i h i i u s n l c l h o s i f n m e o a r i s a i n u t r w n o e e g o r l r g e o i n e c n a p a i f a s s a f l a e t o a r p e e o d v d a e s e f c r r f l o o r i p e t n d b u e o r s n y u r l o t n y o , t l i n g ” m i p f o o i a e l y t u i t o i d e r i l r n a g t c s a h i o e e o y s m a s r l h r b o u o e e s t c r i n l e m i o w h h r p i d r e o f b u s t o e a k k t i t b t , e m T r n e n k h n n m s m o h l m i e t a b i n t , t e i o n c e e e r e a b c i a r a g p a u s e p h r h r d a r e i m e h c d t t d m p i i i h f w y ) s W d S e l e y h i v t a d e f w o n l e h l “ ( s s x w d o s c a i i g : r w d a n m a a c b i n t m ’ o n e m h s e i h i e e t t t n a s i M g f e n s n t t s e y d o l k i s a t ) t y y o n i s b e b o b i m y s f c m r e t s s n p e ( y y n k t o h d i o s e i s s M l d i r n p y s f g r i l i l y e a l s z o m i e a a n i s r s b b t a h t i a e ; c l d ) i r t s c t u i i l l . a s f i o e t s d u s t n e a a t h e t m i i s s b t s y o i e i b t l p r c c o e o e e s t k n t e o a i r e o t s c y o o e R e l n e u e e e s h p t s s n a o f o s s p h e h n h a h o T d A A m M o c A A A n T I T v T A

p i h s n m i p e k t s m i l h y a o s s d r n e f e e e t t z i a s i t l a h i i B C C C

y r a o m , y t i r r r t y o s t p n e e g i e e c m n c h n i o o a t n s i e w r r a e f o r a n t o , h o , s s e e g o c c n m n i h n o e h e r i w i f c r r , a e e d n e p a t p o x e i x h t r e p e g p e l s u o h a d i o t y r c s a h h o n a t r s i m d t o o t i s , ) w t l , x s g s r ) p e e d n e o p e g i e c w n i m t r i a t h n e u t u s u e t s c h s l t g s n r e t e a h u c r a i o t o ) n n c n e a p e l l t t f o a , a e o m m , n l r c s h t s t e o n u o t s y i t r c c n h t o t l f a e y r o n l : a n u f o t i i p r i t x e e t v s t i c o n e i g e r p n a e d m ( i n e a n u c a n n i e e o l c , w r n v e t o d s o n i s a g a r h f f a l f e f a e e t m s e e o n r l o m m e e a ’ r r d o h r s l o l e o f i u o e g t n a r a s . c l e n i e g o w a m i g n u r o b c . e u o f e f r c u o g e t r o o t m o ( s m o f s s r s a e d t t i o ) s e s h s n i x t s m n n r s t l l l e n a m e r e y g a r o e e i o r v k n h e ( , t o s m i o t s t i e s e h f t i s m h t d c c c t a e e e n g g n e h a l m i e g s o n h e i r c e n a : s t n i r a i t r t a o o l i t r f l r x r r r p i n a c e a r a e e l r a p t u c g ( h o f a o u o l u h a d d t d d s e l d r r o m r , q e e n l a r r g u l , o u a s s z t n a i i d l l c o w m e s y w u r i a n o u a n e o r n o i o h t a c t o i o o d n f c l w g e w n f e t k o o r k b o n t a r s d y c h o c i n r o f t n s n u o n p n i k o e i w h , b a t d s i o u o d g r c i s d o l n i e l a i t s o r o r a h f w e n e r a l o p i s t u c t p a n p a e d s l e g i k n r o y l r e i h a a r o i o y p c i e r k v e v w m t a o t r r a i p r p o p a a t c d o d f r e y f i c y o o i c r l d n e b o t e i e y f h p t h n v i z s s a a c d i t t o s t o n l n s s c e i m i a u n i m o e e g y e e p , o e ; b s l s c c i t o i ’ g l d n h f r s s o r o i i c r e a d n c o r r a e y i l n e e r s t o v c g i r p h p s r c ’ a w h a e e h e t e h e e e e e e c n s p l o p s s n i o h h h n s e e T T a T T r A C O V A r T e A

e r u t l u c r o e m ( s i c m v i f o t o i i r m a g c l e d z e m y t e n t r e s a p n t y r i l s s y n y o s e r s d m a e e ) i c y o e t a r i s d r r r n v a o u u u d i p f a s s c u o s s s e s c f l t l t l n m n t u v u a a o f s l l l o o u u u o e i i d C C C C C C C C b D D D E

m s i l a m n t s o n i i r t e t a n y r m t e u n i t y o c l r i c l i i n o u n c v h h m n n t t a E E E E F

t s i n i m e F / m s i n i m e F

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xiii All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

n n r a d l e o h n f a d , t h i b a t o n g r c f , f a g n s e t o o i o , n n y s h t n t i r i t y t n g e s r e r e a d c o d o e t r b t a i e m l t n w e t t b c p e a a s f o e c a , s l i h d n i a o p n t s t r u p c o c i a e e h e i e s d g r f t e o o c n m e w e l o f c n m s i n a ( r i c e m i b s t l i n o , r p n s , a l r p c e f f y s e , n a y u e e l k o o r e e t u n s o c n b h a i t e l h s i h t l o u e f t o a t t t i e i e i t r f m i t o i a i v b s n t l l n d , t a z l e n e a d i o c n i a e t z l t d l e l y a s i s i x x u l e ’ h v b b n d n d t e v e e c a i v a n t i l o l e r i s o t e i g s r n c n i c o a k e c s i i w t e o c o s c e h A h ; x i a a d d t r h a n , t t p s c e t n w t n n e i e e r s u y a n a a l g h d n e e t y h e c t f l o t r l t c a f o o h s i ) n i y a t t e e o s t r t a t a l e ) t e y a g u r h f c i r i S w f e s s t s a o c a o o o e l c d e m d d i r s o e t i r i n d n , c w s n o o t f l v a s d e i , t u v e o u r n h i f r l a t e g s f t s i d t e t n s g e e o f e e r t n e n t r a a o e o ‘ e N b i h i i a e , o h i n i r n w y t p s r s a w n r c e o l z y m s r d o m t o i e l s e e y o l a n y o o o t n e e n e e e s h i i i e s h t t t r b s h m p m t r t e i t t h c a b n l s p c t n t p s l m a a f h a o e ; d a e o t e w e t e d r d s g a g s e o e h m , e s i n i s s d u t r t t o n c r m z a n e i r o n d d n n d o a e n r n d s i , t a f n o i e o , h l p o o c l o i r n t o s i u n e a y i n e i t s c o y a ( t e a S a e c g t r a v t t c u n t r i a o t t a e r l a h a l r u r a i c s i c i e a l e c t t r s z t t f n t a i r a i e o a c u o h c h i e u c n t r l r o g t i a r t m i e i y m l t n p e o i f s t e i i i m d o a s v a p f h e i l n t o o p h r t t b i e t p d l s n a a n p l r c d , i i e e o i a u x n n n h c d z ) s e a f y W t l d o n l h i e e a m h e o t s n d m a t s h o r u a e n a . a d a i c e o b a f y r o e a d c g i y t f a i u e e g c c a b t r , o e o c . e o e d n o n l t a d s c , f e a t n d f s i a e m a a l o h c w a n f f s e n e s h i e r e n t ( l t t o u s v a a , e l e t t o i s s s e o i v d a n v s i n i s o c a s p f “ e , e e l e t a i e e o d s d f o m p e t m e o e s t e ) e r s e c d : c s r n n d i e s s i o u ; e c d n i m h i l b o n t m u e l , p e s e r i s e e t f n n r e s e e r a t n o , p p o a d h h p h c u c t h e s s t o s t t s s y t a n o i d p v a o e l n g c ’ t n t o s o n u d w g g a h f r e r , e d e r a c e y l n e b n o r l i p n h r y a s a e e e o u p r r e e l l s c e n i t a f r f c t e l r h b y r e s u o n f t s a d e n m c , d e g m s o i o e i t a u t t r r e o i r t e h n r a o c n e e h a s e u a u l s l i d e e t c v o b ” d e g i t f f R n o u r e p s o n t s l o a e u a ( e n f s o n w m i t n n r o l l o ” e c n m u a t d a g n , i h a i r r o u m o h g e c t s d s i l t c n h , o o o y t r i a i g e e t a m n c e n a s n h i n s s r p t y a l i t p h e i l t c d t n a r r s l i r a h e t i a t m h a i g f n s d l y g l u n u o e t a a o o w h c e d e p d n s o o m o o a i d p t e s a t e p i o a c u l p l e u i h p o i r t e e a p R s v s h t h e h o o n t v g x g o n s n e n s i x u n T n n e e e l y o i a o e e n i t y a l o w h o p o i n n i c i c d r d t h t f n i o i : i b d a t l t i t d l f m h o n n y h n t a a n i t s i y , v g h h l l a e h e a a a l c a e o e o e n o a n c e i a n h t l l b n w w t a n r d n r n r o , a r w i i t c o h d r o l i g c t o n o e e y h o s e d s i d i d e i i o s t o t t u t t n n t a t s o r t S e t i s n h l m i a i n t c r e e o w i s r n a h a u n n c l “ s b e c t m v o w m e h r o w r p r v o u a a c i a e h o t i e r t e d r o s i o c m t i a t r p e c m f l f m t h f t n c a e ’ t s i h e w w e p e n a h o f r s e i t u a o s o o l i t h d n u i c h h m m o o , p c a t e n y c d o i t e i t c i d t b w c e p s c o o e d e o r n e f i t t o , s h r r e t a o t o m e i c e s s o p i c r m f s a i l o e e e , f n c i l c a l p e p o d o p e r a o i h n e e v s u l u c a t s t e n l a t h s l i r r t x p e e M a s i p e s o i e y m o e t s s r o w y n v c a e u m p n l d r f r s s n s r h t e n n i a b c g d ; t n g o n y d y l a g r t o e h e e o i l e e e n s o s g p i v i a h o a o s n f i t n d u h y r r e i i i c c c r u s o e b n l l l t t m h l t e t , , c a p e g c r o t e o o o o m o c a a a l n o l a e s d a u n f g n i e c r i o r n i y r r r u a m i i b t o e o e f e o o p d l e s c c i t a v o e p t u u k s e R e t p i i r p t r r i A c u c r e o l r t r s a v e f i o r o o i n l e y m p r a l e a e h e n n t e o i e n h e a l e d r o a u s s u e R n h e n e a h n h g l s u h c e h r e p e e n o n A S A H b I T m S T a c o c O i c T P K T o c T M B A e r T n a u s m m R A A Q o s

e n g o n i a t a h z c i r l e x a e d t b n f o e i l G G G

y c t n s n e e g n a p i o m u t n n p u r o t e u a r i m t v o g s o r u n I n G G H I

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s t n n o e n i t o c c s t a e i s d a z n l i a r a l e d n t n a o i i n t t e l i o k n r e r t D v a a c n M I M M

n o i t m s u i l l o a v r e u y m l s R p m i e c l a h i a h g t n c o o o t i i n i l d e n o o t a o e M M M N N

n o i t a v r e s b o m t e p n t s u a y o p s s r i c g i n m t t r e o p u r a N O O P

xiv All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

a e y s r r n t u i r e s a a a t d u t e f c r a r e c t m e d d o o g h n n t r d b n n s s l e e e e e a a a l s e o a r t g d e i t i e v i s e w u s a w i a h c i l l s o e o d c b c o t a a g r t i i w e p r r u s e r l a r o o o b t l s ) a o d d r g g a s l 4 i n p n r o s d l l a d ( m f m a l i a g u a a a t e r r c e c s d n y m i n t r h u o u l y o n r u o t t t l l n r s l l a d c u o o b g a e t s u u , n g i m c a e r e n i s c c i u r m n t o t e a r i u e h r i a t h h e N y b l p f r s t t c e ; t s l i o s n , i ] r a o o e e o u r l e c x p n r e i b e t b r g a q s P g o e r c e i f f e ; n f o n a e t h r o e o i s o o e t o t a t h l e h k t y m i e c b s c n t n t n r a y v m e h i e i u n i r i o o ’ o t i t d l s i t i t y v e o m l t e t i t i t e n i n x a t - t i t i a w c e r g s c n o s g h b c i g a U i i e e e t e e e , n f e r j j a a s o c l i c n l c s s m d v a e e a o e n o r i i c a n t r r i e l r e e h s s t d s e e o t r l m a t c u p y i l n i s m p e a p e l i i c a d a a x r n o n r r h i h h a t c a n h r i c t t n t t e h w c r o e r o s i s o a e a v f p t l , l o y y t l o y e l n g o m f l f t o s n a s a i e d a c m o b a g p n d b b i i - l a t c h w i ) e o i c t a i i t t d t r l d d d ‘ s o g f t [ l c o a i n i a o p i n i a e e e o u ; n t d a l s i d ) a c e t c z i z i z n e y d l a i i t n , o i v n c 3 e c o r b o r r r r a n u s ( a n l a s a k p t p t l r i e o i e t e c n i , a g e c i s l h t t d r a e k s e n s p l t p e n d c c c e ’ r v r m a p a e b i a f o o i p w a n t a a i e i a t o b e c l i a r r r c u a P a s o e t o s i g f f m l i a a a n s t i a l a t a h t e u g e y . w l u u a m t a h t o f s i n p p f o t g , h e a o e a i e . r y c c c r n a c r m s d i r m t e i s c e h n e t k u n e g f d i c e u u g c s e e m ( u o a e v p g n f e c l t n c c r s e r a c l o r A o d h i i a e o s c s o b n n u m n n l i p a a r t e h f d u d i l r d a w a a a s u c a f t i d n i b i i t r e n i e r c u o n l p a s n s i l v v c b e o i e l e a b a o o v e e l t e o ) a r i b e i e t e d e i t n a i r w e a c t s v m r m t y n d r 2 c d d r c e r c l o e o a ( d e s n a t r e u d u n u i a c e n f f f l t t n d e , o a e o s o i s e p n p t i a o o m t d t a a u y d s , ; m e e o g l n o r s , t o d n y n r e n c e c e e a e n c s e n n r e a r r e n f i h y c s e i u A i a p p p s n e e y y s d o n n o i t p l a s i ( o v s f i g m y i r p l o b e b h n c u v n l . t t o e s f u t t n l h e y n e e i a r s b e l s l a a r e g o i o c s a a a r i f n w p a o e h a c i c v w o p e s h l s o e o o t r e t o t ” ” ” P u v l r h o t e o g g c , i , , m o p n e y e t t s r s a n t o : , i i y n o f i p i t l o n i u y p ; l a i b a e h v p c e e c e g s r r r l o a d t s o w r a h c s u o t g v s r m t o o o w m f a m m c n l i n o d r i p c o n t u n i i g u s a a f a i e r e h e i e h d o o d n i s e o t g e a h a v r r i o a o i n e h h h l t h o o t t s l r n t f m f e h p d e a r a e o s n a t p s r T T T r r e s b a n o o l c y r e t a r t e s u i c h t e a e h e i p a e w e s m M e i l e n h n i n e s i s s t e g p f e i s v o c l f t h p a a z u n o ; u e n m g m s w t i i a a a e n l n u t o d o h h y ] m t h r o r r o e s o d l f a l v c a i t t o o o a f n l a w t s a d t t g p r m s n r c o e r o i y ) t c c n e S S S t a a r e s a e h c f 1 a d u n w a o s e o p “ s g e s s r “ s “ o o o w s s f h e , d l ( h y p o d r t l u t i t l l o n e : s t s s t u r t s l o o d i e n n f i i a n b w o a v ’ n m o i m ’ ’ d l f r e o s s o d o n s n e i a e n a n a n e e r r a r r r e h e c a t p o t r o a n c g h e e a e t t r e ; o o o o g p i t n v n V l t c p e n o p h e t y a s n t d t t o t f t y r e d m m r r r o e a e u k e t l e a o m n i o d r a e a i e m n e e e i a h c m i s m i l u t n a / n w a h l c b l u e i e p t r i p c a a a n o u x u t c q f t e o c h d l n a o M r M M o ) d l e i n t o m w a e o t n e n d o r b m t e f r e n i t r d l i i a g n t t i r n t o o s s t o t d e t n n c c l r i . l a r i r d a r a i o b s r p n h t i e i v p t i t t m d e c y o e e e g i a s u s i e l a n i o e c c o d n s n r s a l c i e o t a a f s l i b n b n b i v g d n p e b i a f r e s g s e e a s e e p n c d t t d n n o r g a r r e e a m o v o o e o v o i c g i e i i e y r s w o h a m y s l l e l h e e e c R R R r n [ t t s s s l c w n r n d v a a e i o e u n e n o e e h u e n o n f e n n h h h n a s h D A t h I M M w B R i n A I c R p T o A B I c I o B A A A a T T T A

t n e l c a s e t i d p l a c a e l n a i c l i i t r i t l a o P P

s e l u r e c n e d i e s c e r n l e i a c t i S y m s r l m i e a a s a c c h m i i t t t t g i y l y l i l l s o o o o o P P P P P

p u p n o u o r i o t y u g r t m g n i e s c b c n i i y o o t r n r i o l r e t i a a l s r p i e i g e e r i m b c d f l i e e e e e t e r P R R R R R R

p u o r l a g r t i o y p r t m a a c s a c i d l l l a e n a a i u l o c i c t i o c e o o R R S S S

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xv All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

f ” , o a l d n a a s t n r o n n i , i a e i t p n i b c e a e o e m g r i c u l t — “ o d p r e i t a l s o e f o m r p m e u e o n r p o p p s r e p r o a d a e p p p d r s e o y l l , t o a n o i m y f a g r a m u r , n d d o f i d l t i e n l e i o d t i v r a t r i u n r y s d w , e l t e e o e i i c t o i l w n l r p t n : a b o i , o s a u y r s t p , r l o e s q n d i t r f r c s g e c o s e n e e a n e , d h t m i r e d t h w e i t e a e n i e l s t g e d e r i r i u e n n t s v p y i , r c s a n b o i n d e u e r h u a a r a r o s b m f n o p m m o p e p f n r , a s l u a n i e c d o h o a o r h o t s d s e n c h l t H e a e — h e o ; o l w e e t i g c t r r y a e t a w e a d r u e c g p n n o f m s o a u n o t a q o o s a r i r o e t e e d r e s p e s r y r e n n h r w t d t g e r a d e u e t o e t n h n o u l t i n , h s z a t n u i c l s n c d r t l i a f a i e o n h a o e o n t u u , h o c t s e m a l o l s a u a r c e e w e l n r g t f u p a r r d b a y a u n o f f o n i n t o t t i v t e o a o i l c l i n r o a i , p o n n h , t t a u e o r y s t s c a s o e r c s c e i n l e i a e i e e c e m s i t g f o r u p d r f a w d w i a i a e f e p l t u t u r t , t i d t e e a o t a u g a o e i r d d s g t a h u s h p p c n y a a . r o t o t q a c n s y o r h a t e u s n t a o e e v r b e s l l p t h , e g e l u r o e a o l n h u c e v h p i d o a e h s c a x n r d i t i t s e t p v n o t v l i e o i i r y t t a a g e h r i r n t a a t t a n p i o d u r n e d e p e y a c e i a f r a e i s o a o a i d r f n c c n h i o k c e p i b h n i c o o t h o o l s i u f t r t h n l l s s o d n a e l o i i s s i e t t i e s a i t r s t i l e i o w p r t d g t w c a d r c c p u , u e w l e e m a a r a o t o h r o o r y f o e s p f o s t i h l s i o y , r e o u i t p g f d y t h l h i d p f e t e t t i o s e r a s f h w a i r n u m a o o i n t p y e e r l t c o t c n e i n e y o n i r i a y h o f e b n i t l s h a o b e c d a i n t h x t r r w t e e r n s i B s o e a i r e i n o e d s u f g e h t n a t c e o m c e e y h i r t t a e p o r i t i a f d e o h f o o n a o y r d e r a s s w h o t a w m f p o e F n e h s e s e n t n i a w i y t f . h y l t e v a n a s g l t d o h P h s s l o e i i o l c o i e i s a o n a r c t r e t v l y i b t y c s u s u s p c i a e p h t t a u e t h e s i e r o b s t e k t s w d n e a c - p c i s w r c o n s e e i l c e o r t n a r c d l o o c a n s i p c d i a n h a y i r l n t p , t e p o a n e p a i o n i d s o e p s u s g r d e o a f t s u n a e r s i m c n e n u q o z e v , f n s o o n e l r m t o i a i r h e e e e p o , l i t e o a e e o g n s y m l p u l t v l s r j a w t u t i t v s i s e a n m o s e s i / t r a a c t c t d e c f n y e g e e i n e o i s y c i i o r u m d l r l r n a r c n c o m h l t s n r e t r r t e e n p e u o e l o o t e i o o t y n o a l e e e e o v t c c s s s c l c r a o o h w h n h p o n e h n o t u T T A T A A A T a A s A P T A g A A b a e G S C u c

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xvi All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

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xvii or transmitted in any form or by any means All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016


CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCING CULTURE, SOCIETY, AND POLITICS I.

INTRODUCTION

Summary

Chapter 1 provides some conceptual handles for understanding everyday experiences and observations of culture, society, and politics. Thomas Hyland Eriksen (2001) illustrates the definitive and ambiguous ways by which the concept of culture has been understood in terms of how people live their lives. C. Wright Mills invites students to view the world around them in terms of the intersection of private lives and the larger social and historical context. Lydia Yu-Jose points out the limits of Western notions of politics to understand the Philippines and its democratic institutions and processes. The remaining readings in this chapter offer some definitions of culture, society and politics. In defining culture and society, s ociety, Eriksen (2004) situates si tuates the individual in the broader social world in which he or she is embedded. To deepen our understanding of culture, Renato Rosaldo addresses the misunderstanding of the notion of culture. He argues against widespread views that only cultural minorities have culture while lowland Filipinos don’ don ’t on account of Western influences. Finally, Andrew Heywood presents four views of politics as affairs of the state, public affairs, conflict and compromise, and power. How then are culture, society, and politics related in everyday life? Each person interacts meaningfully with one another as members of society. Culture encompasses the meaningful processes and products of these social interactions. People likewise interact in society as individuals and as groups with duties and privileges. In the exercise of duties and privileges, a person as a member of society engages in political activities. Focus Questions

1. How is culture, society, and politics manifested in everyday life? 2. What perspectives can we use to understand culture, society, and politics?

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II.

CONTENT A. Starting points for the understanding of culture, society, and politics

1. Sharing of social and cultural backgrounds of students as acting subjects or social actors, agents, persons (examples: gender, socioeconomic class, ethnicity, religion, exceptionality/non-exceptionality, nationality) 2. Observations about social, political, and cultural behavior and phenomena (examples: food taboos, istambay istambay,, political dynasties, elections) 3. Observations on social, political, and cultural change (examples: texting, transnational families, local public services, youth volunteerism) 4. Definition of anthropology, political science, and sociology B. Defining culture and society from the perspectives of anthropology and sociology

1. Society as a group of people sharing sharin g a common culture 2. Culture as a “that complex whole which encompasses values, attitudes, laws, norms, artifacts, symbols, everything that a person learns and shares as a member Tylor 1920 [1871]) 3. Aspects of culture 4. Ethnocentrism and cultural relativism as orientations cultures

III.

beliefs, practices, knowledge, and of society.” society.” (E.B.

in viewing other

STANDARD

Content Standard

The learners demonstrate an understanding of: 1. Human cultural variation, social differences, social change, and political identities 2. The significance of studying culture, society, and politics 3. The rationale for studying anthropology, political science, and sociology Performance Standard

The learners: 1. Acknowledge human cultural variation, social differences, social change, and political identities 2. Adopt an open and critical attitude toward different social, political, and cultural phenomena through observation and reflection 3. Appreciate the value of Anthropology, Sociology, and Political Science as social science disciplines 2 All rights reserved. reserved. No part of of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

IV.

LEARNING COMPETENCIES

A. Starting points for the understanding of culture, society, and politics

1. Articulate observations on human cultural variation, social differences, social change, and political identities. 2. Demonstrate curiosity and an openness to explore the origins and dynamics of culture and society, and political identities. 3. Analyze social, political, and cultural change. 4. Recognize the common concerns or intersections of anthropology, sociology, and political science with respect to the phenomenon of change. 5. Identify the subjects of inquiry and goals of Anthropology, Political Science, and Sociology. B. Defining Culture and Society from the perspectives of Anthropology and Sociology

1. Appreciate the nature of culture and society from the perspectives of anthropology and sociology. 2. Demonstrate a holistic understanding of culture and society. 3. Values cultural heritage and express pride of place without being ethnocentric.

V.

LESSON

Lesson 1. Making Sense of Our Everyday Experiences Experiences Specific Objectives

This phase aims to identify the prior knowledge of students about culture, society, and politics.

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Explore Activity 1. Pinpoint!

Using the picture above identify the concepts that you can associate with culture, society, and politics. Write your answers in the graphic organizer.

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CULTURE SOCIETY POLITICS Process Question

From your answers, give your own definition of culture, societ y, and politics.

Firm up On Culture

Material: Eriksen, Thomas Hyland, 2001. “Introduction: Comparison and Context,” Small Places, Large Issues: An Introduction to Social and Cultural Anthropology.2nd Edition. London: Sterling Press. pp. 1 – 7 Guide Questions

1. Why are there great variations in the way people around the world live? 2. Amid these variations, why do we see similarities among societies? 3. In what way can the study of the different and common aspects of human existence contribute to our understanding of culture, society, and politics? A broad swath of people around the world relate with each other in different ways but a closer examination of these differences also reveal how people are alike in terms of their biological features and what they do as they interact with each other. The difference and similarities by which people live, act, and interact show the numerous aspects of human existence. In the discipline of anthropology, these diverse but familiar manifestations of humanity are referred to as culture. For anthropologists, culture is the reference point by which people organize themselves and make sense of themselves as members of their own society. For that matter, anthropology regards culture as the “acquired cognitive and symbolic aspects of human existence, whereas society refers to the social organization of human life, patterns of interaction and power relationships” (Eriksen 2001: 4). Analyzing how people culturally differ and what they share in common deepens our knowledge of humans as biological and social beings. Being human and becoming human is to be a social person shaped by culture but tempered or enabled by their own bodily anatomy. The anthropological discipline offers a detailed study of human engagements that include family life, child 5 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

raising, beliefs and religion, politics, material productions and innovations, laws, economic life and the relationship between men and women in different social settings and time periods. In a sense, anthropology ask big questions about the human condition but draws answers from the study of the particular experiences of people living under different circumstances, be these in a small village deep in the jungles, a farming settlement, a bustling metropolitan city or a string of communities across different countries. By looking at the general and particular aspects of human social life, anthropology provides explanation of the interrelationship of the various facets of human life that explains sociocultural and political practices of societies around the world across time and spaces. Understanding these relationship means making sense of the unique situation and linkages that people establish within and between societies.

Key Concepts What is Anthropology?

The etymology or origin of the term anthropology can be traced back to two Greek words, ‘anthropos’ and ‘logos’. When translated into English, ‘anthropos’ means ‘human’ while ‘logos’ refers to ‘knowledge’ (Eriksen 2001: 2). In this sense, anthropology can be understood as the ‘knowledge about humans’ ( Ibid.). The subject of anthropological study is humanity but unlike other disciplines in the human sciences, anthropology studies the diversity and similarity of the way a person live and make connections as social and cultural beings. Anthropology as a discipline compares cultural and social life primarily through participant observation, a research method that entails lengthy fieldwork or immersion in a specific social setting. Through participant observation, anthropologists study in depth the various aspect of society and then compare how that society differ and reflect other societies. For example, an anthropologist who studies the sea faring communities of Sama Dilaut in the Sulu Archipelago would find ways of comparing and contrasting them to the broader Bajao seafaring cultures across Southeast Asia or elsewhere in the world. By doing these comparative studies, anthropology as an academic discipline provides a more grounded, insightful, and deeper understanding of our common humanity. Through the years, a wide range of subfields of studies emerged within the academic discipline of anthropology. These subfields include social and cultural anthropology, archeology, biological anthropology, evolutionary anthropology, socio-linguistic anthropology, visual anthropology, political and legal anthropology, cyborg anthropology, psychological anthropology, economic anthropology, urban anthropology, climate anthropology, development anthropology, and several more. The subfields of the discipline continues to expand today but as the range of anthropological knowledge grew and expanded, humanity are better equipped in answering the question of how it is to become human.


Activity 2. Define Me!

The activity aims to give students a clear understanding of the basic concepts of anthropology and its relation to culture.

Process Questions

1. What are the objects of anthropological study? 2. What perspective does anthropology offer to the s tudy of culture and society? 3. Why is it important to know the similarity and diversity of cultures and societies? On Society

Material: Mills, C. Wright. (1959). “The Promise,” The Sociological Imagination. New York: Oxford University Press. pp. 3 – 24 Guide Questions

1. According to Mills, how can one understand society? 2. How is addressing or solving a personal problem different from addressing a public problem?


Summary

C. Wright Mills argues that a great number of our social experiences can overwhelm us into inaction. He then offers a solution: a way of seeing society that can help us understand everyday events and make better choices as individuals and as a group. He calls this the “sociological imagination,” which is a way of looking at people in terms of the intersection of their own lives with the larger social and historical context. In Mills’s view, society — not people’s personal failings — is the main cause of social problems (Macionis 2012: 7). To illustrate how one can develop a sociological imagination, Mills distinguishes between two kinds of situations that people find themselves in: “ private troubles” (personal problems) and “ public issues” (social problems). He points out that there are indeed private troubles, but some of them also affect many other people since they have large-scale causes. Examples of private troubles that are also public issues are poverty; unemployment; lack of access to education; poor quality of education; air, water, and noise pollution; bullying; single parenthood; and so on. According to Mills, addressing or solving a private trouble is different from addressing a public issue. Since personal trouble is a private matter, its resolution lies within the individual and within the scope of his or her immediate personal experience. In contrast, people viewing personal problems as public issues will look for solutions to social problems not at the level of the individual. Instead, they will look into bringing people together to create needed change by organizing themselves and through their social institutions.

Key Concepts Sociology is the systematic study of human society (Macionis 2012: 2), focusing particularly on the dynamic interplay between individual and society. At the heart of sociology is the sociological perspective , a special point of view of sociology that sees general patterns of society in the lives of particular people (Ibid.). 





One of the works that elaborate this special point of view is C. W. Mills’s Sociological Imagination, a quality of mind that enables the possessor to link personal with the social. The sociological imagination helps us understand everyday events. According to Mills, “society — not people’s personal failings — is the main cause of poverty and other social problems. By turning personal problems into public issues, the sociological imagination also is the key to bringing people together to create needed change” (Macionis 2012: 7). The sociological imagination also requires a global perspective, a study of the larger world and our society’s place in it (Macionis 2012: 6).

Activity 3. Turning personal problems into social problems

Organize a group discussion activity by dividing the class into groups. Ask them to do the following:


1. Designate a group leader who will facilitate the discussion, a documenter who will take down notes, and a reporter who will present the main points of the group discussion to the class. 2. Illustrate the main points discussed by the group on a sheet of Manila paper or any appropriately sized piece of paper. 3. Present the group work to the class. Process Questions

1. What personal troubles have you experienced? Identify 2 – 3 personal troubles. 2. Are any of these personal troubles also social problems? Which ones and why? 3. Identify solutions to these social problems.

Note to the Teacher: A possible example of a personal trouble that is actually a social issue is the noise caused by a karaoke session late at night that prevents people from getting rest. This activity can prepare students to see politics as a concept that occurs in everyday lives. In this example, local governments (including the barangay) can implement a local ordinance that seeks to regulate the use of karaoke during nighttime. In addition, it can designate building (soundproofing) and zoning guidelines to minimize noise in the community. In certain cases, this activity can potentially open sensitive issues such as family abuse, relationship issues, experiences of violence, and other matters. Handle the discussion with keen sensitivity, empathy, and care.

On Politics

Material: Yu-Jose, Lydia (2010). “Politics, You and Democracy,” Philippine Politics: Democratic Ideals and Realities. Quezon City: Ateneo University Press. Guide Questions

1. Among the many definitions of politics which one is the most agreeable to you? Why? 2. How can one determine what is political and what is not? 2. What is the role of active participation in a democracy? 3. Do you agree that democracy is the best political system? Summary

Yu-Jose’s article localizes the Western concepts of politics. It discusses politics and its place in the Philippines and its democratic institutions and processes. The article begins with a discussion on the various definitions of politics and its scope or focus. Particular interest on how the study of politics revolves around the state, its institutions, its decisions and its relationship with other states and individuals. 9 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

Pinpointing the scope of politics, however, remains a complicated task because of the relational nature of politics. Therefore, an alternative way is to decide what is political and what is not is to look at individuals’ attitudes toward the state — active participation, rejection, or indifference. It ends with a discussion on the importance of participation in the promotion and maintenance of democracy. Activity 4. Who Said What?

In this activity the students should be able to identify different thinkers who gave perspectives about politics. Whose idea of politics is the following? 1. A human being is a political animal. 2. Politics is the authoritative allocation of values in a society. 2. Politics refers to any activity involving human beings associated together in relationship of power and authority where conflict occurs. 3. Politics is a way of ruling in divided societies without violence. 4. Politics is reserved for statesmen and stateswomen. Answer key: 1. Aristotle 2. David Easton 3. Robert Dahl 4. Bernard Crick 5. Michael Oakeshott Deepen Activity 5. Trace the relationships

Each person interacts meaningfully with one another as a member of society. Culture encompasses the meaningful processes and products of these social interactions. People interact in society as individuals and as groups with duties and privileges. In the exercise of duties and privileges, a person as a member of society engages in political activities. Use the diagram to show how a person experiences culture, society, and politics in your everyday life.

Society

Politics

Process Question

PERSON

How are culture, society, and politics interrelated with one another?

Culture


Lesson 2: Understanding the Concepts of Culture, Society, and Politics Objectives

At the end of the course, the learners will be able to: 1. Identify the nature and dynamics of culture and society using key anthropological, sociological, and political science concepts. 2. Distinguish key features of the three major approaches to the study of culture, society, and politics. 3. Value cultural heritage and express pride of place without being ethnocentric. Explore Activity 6. Role-playing a Religious Feast

Divide the class into groups. Instruct each group to elect their leader and a documenter. Ask the class to prepare a short skit depicting people involved in the preparation and celebration of a religious feast. Process Question

1. What activities are involved in carrying out a religious feast? 2. How do they know that a religious feast requires these activities? 3. Why do they celebrate religious feasts? Firm up Aspects of Culture

The notion of culture presents a complex portrait of humanity. Anthropology regards culture as learned, symbolic, integrated, shared, and all encompassing (Tylor 1871). It is learned because culture is acquired by being born into a particular  society in the process of enculturation, as anthropologists would say, or socialization, as sociologists would explain. Through language, the cultural traits of society are passed on to younger members in the process of growing up and through teaching. Culture is symbolic in the sense that it renders meanings to what people do.  Beliefs, religion, rituals, myths, dances, performances, music, artworks, sense of taste, education, innovations, identity, ethnicity, and so on, are meaningful human expressions of what people do and how they act. The systems of meanings and many other facets of culture such as kindred,  religion, economic activities, inheritance, and political process, do not function in isolation but as an integrated whole that makes society work. Furthermore, these varying systems of meanings, relations, and processes are








shared within a group of people rendering culture bounded to those who seek a sense of belonging to the same society. Since culture is shared within exclusive domains of social relations, societies operate differently from each other leading to cultural variations. Even as culture is bounded, it does not mean that there are no variations in how people act and relate with each other within a given system of their respective societies. On the contrary, the same society can be broadly diverse wherein people, for example, profess connections to each other yet practice different religion, values, or gender relations. Furthermore, societies do not always exist independently from each other. Around the world, people as members of their own societies establish connections with each other and form relationship guided by their respective cultural practices and values. These complex relations underscore the allencompassing nature of culture as it covers every feature of humanity. Edward Tylor, one of the founders of modern anthropology, characterize culture as a “complex whole which encompasses beliefs, practices, traits, values, attitudes, laws, norms, artifacts, symbols, knowledge, and everything that a person learns and shares as a member of society” (Tylor 1871). To further understand culture, it is important not to forget the biological dimensions of being human. The capacity of a person to organize his or her own society and form cultural systems is made possible by the ability of humans to imagine and execute what they can do. Through the power of their brains, humans possess a considerable degree of awareness and knowledge of what they can achieve. At the same time, the natural world casts limitation as well as opportunities for humans in terms of realizing how else they can organize their societies and form their cultures. For instance, some societies harness resources on flatlands or high up in the mountains while others organize their lives around the seas. These undertakings indicate that the specific environment in which people live also shape human culture in the same way that culture shapes how people reshape nature.

Sociological Approaches to the Study of Society

Sociologists use three theoretical approaches: the structural-functional approach, the social-conflict approach, and the symbolic-interaction approach. A theoretical approach is a basic image of society that guides thinking and research (Macionis 2012: 12) Structural-Functional Approach

Structural-functionalists view society as a “complex system whose parts work together to promote solidarity and stability ” (Macionis 2012: 12). It involves an analysis of social structure , “any relatively stable pattern of social behavior. Social structure gives our lives shape — in families, the workplace, the classroom, the community.” The approach seeks to identify a structure’s social functions, or “the 12 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

consequences of any social pattern for the operation of society as a whole ” (Ibid). It is an approach that is influenced by the ideas of Auguste Comte (1798 – 1857) who coined the term sociology in 1838, and Emile Durkheim (1858-1917). Robert K. Merton (1910 – 2003) also made significant contributions by distinguishing between “manifest functions, the recognized and intended consequences of any social pattern, and latent functions , the unrecognized and unintended consequences of any social pattern. He also recognized social dysfunction , any social pattern that may disrupt the operation of society” (Macionis 2012:13). Social-Conflict Approach

The social-conflict approach sees society as an “arena of inequality that generates conflict and change ” (Macionis 2012: 13). It therefore highlights inequality and change. In contrast to the structural-functionalist approach, it does not see the social structure as promoting the smooth operation of society. Instead, it focuses on how social patterns benefit the dominant groups in society. Typically, “ people on top try to protect their privileges while the disadvantaged try to gain more for themselves” (Ibid). Symbolic-Interaction Approach The symbolic-interaction approach views sees society as the “product of the everyday interactions of individuals ”(Macionis 2012: 16). Human beings live in a world of symbols. In the process of social interaction, they attach meaning to everything. Macro and micro levels of analysis

It should be noted that the Structural-Functional and Social-Conflict Approaches have a macro-level orientation, or a broad focus on social structures that shape society as a whole. In contrast, the Symbolic-Interaction Approach uses a micro-level orientation, a close-up focus on social interaction in specific situations (Macionis 2012: 16).

Discerning Politics

Material: Andrew Heywood (2007). Politics. 3rd edition. NY: Palgrave Macmillan Guide Questions

1. 2. 2. 3. 4.

What are the defining features of politics as an activity? How can politics be understood? Does politics take place within all social institutions or only in some? Can the study of politics be scientific? What approaches to the study of politics as an academic discipline have been adopted?


Summary

Heywood introduces the notions of politics and how it can be best understood. He then presents four varying views of politics, particularly as: (1) the art of government or what concerns the affairs of the state; (2) the conduct and management of public affairs; (3) managing conflict through compromise and consensus; and (4) power as basis for understanding how resources are produced, distributed and used. The study of politics, therefore, has several approaches: (1) normative, stemming from the philosophical tradition, which seeks to prescribe values and standards of conduct; (2) empirical, which offers to make a dispassionate account and analysis of the political reality; and (3) scientific, drawn heavily from behavioralism, which presents political realities in a scientifically reliable manner. Due to the complex nature of political realities, there are also several concepts, models and theories that can be used as tools for political analysis. While it is impossible to study politics objectively, these approaches and tools help frame our investigations of reality. Activity 7. My Political Thought

This activity will use personification to know the different ideas of political thinkers. Task: In small groups, students will prepare a 5-minute skit/ presentation that demonstrates how politics is defined by the following personalities. Mechanics: Each group shall choose one personality. Aside from the text, encourage the groups to do independent research using the library and other sources of information to prepare for the activity. 1. Niccolo Machiavelli 2. Aristotle 3. Hannah Arendt 4. St. Thomas Aquinas 5. Plato 6. David Hume 7. John Locke 8. Karl Marx 9. St. Augustine of Hippo 10. Jean-Jacques Rousseau Process Questions:

1. 2. 3. 4.

How similar/ different are their ideas about politics? What factors do you think helped shape their ideas and thoughts? If you were to ‘define’ politics based on your experience, what would it be? Is it possible to study politics more scientifically? How?


Deepen Ethnocentrism

When people find cultural practices and values not their own as disturbing and threatening, that can be regarded as ethnocentrism. A literal meaning of ethnocentrism is the regard that one’s own culture and society is the center of everything and therefore far more superior than others (Kottak 2012: 39; Eriksen 2001:7). It is understandable that people laud and hold importance to the cultural values that were taught them by their parents, elders, and other institutions of their society. The problem is when a person or groups of people regard their own society ’s set of cultural values as the only agreeable, acceptable, and highly respectable set of convictions. Such a perspective can harden into chauvinism, a position that everything about the other culture is wrong, unreasonable, detestable, and even wicked. From this perspective, the practices and institutions of people from other societies are regarded as inferior, less intelligent, and even vicious. An ethnocentric attitude can be an obstacle to understanding each other culture and foster tensions within or between societies. Cultural Relativism

The concept of cultural relativism underscores the idea that the culture in every society should be understood and regarded on its own terms. Societies are qualitatively different from one another, such that each one has its own “unique inner logic” (Eriksen 2001: 14). Cultural traits can only be known and valued in the context of the society by which they emerge and are practiced. Cultural relativism promotes the idea that a society has to be viewed from the inside so that inner logic can be better explained. A society’s idea of a good life will not likely be shared by another society that interprets the notion of “good” from a sharply different social perspective. In other words, each society has a different yardstick in appreciating the value of its own cultural trait. Cultural relativism, however, cannot be regarded as the flip side of ethnocentrism. The concept of cultural relativism is more analytical and methodological rather than being a moral principle. Anthropologists apply the concept of cultural relativity in investigating and comparing societies without declaring one being better or more preferable to the other. Moreover, appreciating and accepting the uniqueness of one society’s cultural trait does not mean that universal human moral traits of right or wrong no longer apply. For instance, cultural traits that promote subjugation of women by hurting or killing them do not necessarily mean that they are right by virtue of one society ’s inner logic. There are underlying patterns of human cultural traits that are common and universally acceptable to humanity. The violent subjugation and elimination of human life or traits are broadly unacceptable to the rest of humanity. Through a relativist approach consciously balanced by a universalist understanding of what is humanely acceptable, the dangers of ethnocentrism can be addressed.


Activity 8. Detecting Ethnocentrism and Promoting Respect for Other Cultures

Find pictures of food usually prepared and not usually prepared in your community or region. Ask the students to comment on the food in the picture and compare them to the food from the students’ place. Kinds of Food Food 1 Food 2 Food 3 Food 4 Food 5

Strange Food

Bad Food

Good Food

Best Food

Reasons

Note to the Teacher: In choosing the pictures of food, be sensitive to religious or some other forms of cultural prohibitions on food. A religious or cultural prohibition on food does not mean an ethnocentric rule but a cultural particularity that underscores the idea that societies are indeed diverse.

Activity 9. Lights, Camera, Action!

The class will be grouped into two. The first group will be assigned to do a short skit on ethnocentrism while the other will do a short skit on cultural relativism. After each presentation, the students will be asked to write a reflection paper on what they have learned/realized after watching the performance of each group. Process Questions for Activities 8 and 9

1. Is it right to pass judgment on cultures not our own as inferior, threatening, or disturbing? 2. Should we expect societies around the world to practice the same set of cultural values and traits? 3. How is it possible to recognize the uniqueness of each society’s cultural traits and not from the standpoint of one’s own society? Transfer

By now, the students should be ready to demonstrate the knowledge and skills they gained from the discussions in a debate on current issues. Divide the class into two groups. Ask each group to choose three speakers who will argue their side of the debate. The Middle School Public Debate Program (MSPDP) format will be used. The teacher may also use other styles.


Activity 10. Believe in Me! (A debate using the M SPDP Format)

The Middle School Public Debate Program Rules for Competition cover three key areas of a debate. These are: 1. Debate Topics 2. Number of Teams and Debaters 3. Speaking Order and Speaking Time Limits Below are the rules for MSPDP competitions in brief: 1. Debate Topics

Topics for debate competition are usually announced 2 – 4 weeks before debates are held. MSPDP debating supports the use of both extemporaneous and impromptu topics. An extemporaneous debate topic is one in which you will have limited preparation before debating. There will be several weeks to think about the topic, research the main points of arguments for and against the topic, and carefully organize some notes on the better arguments. An impromptu topic is one that is not known before the debate is set. Students may debate extemporaneous and/or impromptu topics in a competition. Topics are selected to provide a range of debates on personal, educational, social, political, economic, and cultural issues. 2. Number of Teams and Debaters

An MSPDP debate requires two opposing teams. One team is called the proposition, the other is called the opposition. Each side of the debating teams comprises three students. Two members of each team serve as the first and second speakers. The third student of each team is the rebuttal speaker. 3. Speaking Order and Speaking Time Limits

Speakers make their presentations in the following order and time allotments:      

First Speaker, Proposition Team, 5 minutes First Speaker, Opposition Team, 5 minutes Second Speaker, Proposition Team, 5 minutes Second Speaker, Opposition Team, 5 minutes Rebuttal Speaker, Opposition Team, 3 minutes Rebuttal Speaker, Proposition Team, 3 minutes


Closure

Complete the unfinished sentences to summarize the lesson.     

The chapter was about… One key idea was … This is important because … Another key idea was… This matters because …

References

1. Eriksen, Thomas Hyland (2001) Small Places, Large Issues: An Introduction to Social and Cultural Anthropology, 2nd Edition. London: Sterling Press.

2. Eriksen, Thomas Hyland (2004) What is Anthropology. London: Pluto Press. 3. Kottak, Conrad (2011) Anthropology: Appreciating Diversity. New York: McGraw Hill. 4. Macionis, John (2012) Sociology, 14th Edition. Boston: Pearson. 5. Tylor, Edward (1871) Primitive Culture, Volume 1. London: John Murray.


CHAPTER 2 TRACING HUMAN EVOLUTION AND SOCIOCULTURAL AND POLITICAL TRANSFORMATIONS

I.

INTRODUCTION

Summary

To study and understand the processes of becoming human, it is important that we look back to the past. Anthropology offers two methods of doing this study. One is through the close examination of the material remains that early humans had left behind. The other is through the study of the genetic codes that were passed on across several generations. Through these approaches, the story of human evolution can be told. It will be seen that humans evolved as they made use of their peculiar biological features in harnessing the natural environment and in propagating themselves widely across the planet as social beings. To harness the environment, humans produced tools and organized themselves socially into diverse and hierarchical groups in many cases. These acts are by themselves cultural process that mark the characteristics of being human. Human tendencies to relate socially can be tracked to human anatomical features right down from childbirth. Human anatomy, in particular the female pelvis evolved in consideration of the ability of humans to walk upright, the comparatively big brain size of human babies, and the difficulty that these babies go through in negotiating a complicated birth canal during birth (Kottak 2013: 73). These anatomical features and birthing process are not widely shared with other primates, the genetic order to which humans belong. Due to complicated anatomy and birthing processes, humans evolved by requiring assistance from fellow humans. Such requisite for human existence establishes the biological basis of the establishment of social relations guided by cultural processes. In other words, humans are social and cultural as a matter of biological necessity. Through the lessons on Human Evolution and Sociocultural and Political Transformations, this chapter reconstructs the relations between biology and culture. Central to this lesson is the understanding of human evolution and its implication on the transformation of cultures across time periods. To present human evolution, the lesson entails the discussion of the rise of the hominids under the taxonomic superfamily of Hominidae, of which all primates including extinct and modern species of apes and human beings belong. The lesson covers the appearance of the early hominins , or the taxonomic line that refers to early forms of humans that split 19 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

up from apes in the course of primate evolution as well as the emergence of the archaic forms of the genus homo of which the modern humans are classified. Furthermore, the lesson explains how modern humans, scientifically referred as the Homo sapiens sapiens species, populated the world. The lesson goes on to explain how the first human settlements in the advent of early agriculture were established and ends with an account of the rise of the first cities and states that were generally regarded as the early forms of civilization. The long process of human evolution, the uniqueness of human anatomical features resulting from evolution, and the human material remains such as fossils and artefacts that have been gathered and kept in museums and universities for further studies illustrates the complex relationships of human biology and culture. The interaction of human biological and cultural processes played significant roles in being and becoming human. Moreover, how humans evolved to become what they are implicates our understanding of race and racial issues, class and discrimination, fairness and oppression, and so on. When humans are understood from biological evolutionary and transformative cultural point of view, the question of race, class distinction and discrimination, and oppression, are not by themselves natural features of human life. Focus Questions

1. What makes us human? 2. How did humans evolve biologically and culturally? 3. What can the study of human and cultural evolution tell us about transformations of society and political institutions? II. CONTENT

1. Biological and cultural evolution: from Homo habilis (or earlier) to Homo sapiens sapiens in the fossil records 2. Cultural and sociopolitical evolution from hunting and gathering to the agricultural, industrial, and postindustrial revolutions: a. The Neolithic Revolution b. Early civilizations and the rise of state c. Democratization III.

STANDARD

Content Standard

The learners articulate the following: 1. Human origins and the capacity for culture 2. The role of culture in human adaptation 3. Processes of cultural and sociopolitical evolution 20 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

Performance Standard

The learners should be able to analyze key features of interrelationships of biological, cultural, and sociopolitical processes in human evolution that can still be used and developed. IV. LEARNING COMPETENCIES

At the end of the chapter, the learners will be able to: 1. Trace the biological and cultural evolution of early to modern human. 2. Explore the significance of human material remains and artefactual evidence to interpreting cultural and social, including political and economic processes. 3. Recognize national, local, and specialized museums and archeological and historical sites as venues to appreciate and reflect on the complexities of biocultural and social evolution as part of being and becoming human. V. LESSON Lesson 1: Human Biological and Cultural Evolution Specific Objectives

In this module, the students are expected to do the following: 1. Explain the biological evolution of humans based on the fossil records. 2. Infer the capacity of early humans for culture. 3. Identify major fossil groups. 4. Identify anatomical features, and behavioral and cultural changes necessary for adaptation. 5. Describe the development of hominin lifestyle during the Paleolithic, Mesolithic, and Neolithic periods. 6. Analyze the factors that led to formation of state and democratization. 7. Simulate the work of archeologists and anthropologists. 8. Appreciate the value or importance of local and national museums. Explore Activity 1. Imagining Yourself

Let your students imagine themselves as archeologists or anthropologists. Read them the paragraph below: The earth contains many buried objects from the prehistoric past. Finding and interpreting these objects require training. Assume that you are an archeologist or an


anthropologist looking for evidence of material remains of the prehistoric past as well as other evidence of human activity. Answer these questions: 1. What specific evidence will you look for? 2. What material evidence will you be interested to know and learn about? 3. What technology will you use? Activity 2. Taking Pictures

In this activity, students demonstrate their prior knowledge of human evolution by analyzing and interpreting the pictures shown to them before the lesson. After learning about the topics, students will reevaluate their prior knowledge of human evolution by reviewing their initial interpretation of the drawings.

Talking Pi ctures. Study the human evolution pictures in Chapter 2 of the Reader and write down your thoughts about on we evolved. Process Questions

1. 2. 3. 4.

How did human and cultural evolution take place? In what ways were human and cultural evolution studied? Who studies human and cultural evolution? Why is it important to know how humans evolved biologically and culturally?

Firm up Guide Questions

1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

What is evolution? In science, why is evolution considered a theory and a fact? What does creationism say about the characteristics of human life? How did Charles Darwin and Alfred Russel Wallace explain evolution? How does the study of genetics explain biological adaptation, variation, and change? 6. Why is it important to study fossil remains to know how humans and the environment on which they live evolve? 7. In what way can fossil remains be found and studied? The Concept and Study of Evolution

Material: Kottak, Conrad Phillip. “Evolution and Genetics,” Anthropology: Appreciating Human Diversity. New York: McGraw Hill. pp. 94 – 110 Guide Questions

1. How can our knowledge of the human past and their mate rial remains inform us of the uniqueness and commonality as human being? 22 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

2. In what way can human evolution and material pr oductions tell us the processes of becoming human? Summary

The reading presents a comprehensive account of the biological as well as the reconstruction of human evolution based on a wide sweep of studies generated by the anthropological subfields of paleo-anthropology, archeology, and genetics. The reading underscores the scientific research methods that anthropologists working the fields of paleo-anthropological and genetic studies used in reconstructing the account of human evolution. This particular chapter briefly discusses the progression of human evolutionary theory across centuries of research. It tracks the old debates as well as the range of ways that evolutionary events are explained in the concepts of creationism, catastrophism, and uniformism. These discussions present learners the fundamental comprehension of how evolution was systematically studied and debated by generations of scientists. Furthermore, the reading explains the breakthrough in understanding the origin of species, biological diversity, and similarities of various life forms through adaptation, variation, and change in the idea of natural selection thought up by Charles Darwin and Alfred Russel Wallace in the 19th century. With natural selection as a frame of understanding biological evolutionary processes, the reading explains how the study of classical and modern studies of molecular genetics enriched the science of biological variation, and with it the knowledge of how humans evolved. Terms and Names

Carolus Linnaeus Creationism Uniformitarianism

catastrophism Evolution genetics

Charles Lyell natural selection Alfred Russel Wallace

Activity 3. Summary Chart

In this activity, students will summarize the ideas of creationism, catastrophism, transformism, and natural selection. Compare and summarize the four theories by writing your answers in the columns provided below. Creationism

Catastrophism

Transformism

Natural Selection

Basis

Explanation


Process Questions

1. What questions were raised about the concept of creationism and catastrophism? 2. How did the concept of transformism explain the gradual transformation or modification of species? What did the earlier theories of transformism fail to explain? 3. How does natural selection explain biological adaptation, variations, and change? Activity 4. Agree/Disagree Matrix

This activity aims to know how students react to the facts and theories discussed in the lesson. Read each statement and decide whether you agree or disagree with it. Put an x in the column of your answer. Provide a brief explanation for your choice of answer. Agree

Statements 1. Characteristics of life forms are immutable and could not change.

Disagree

2. Explanation for past events should be sought in the long-term action of ordinary geological forces that still operate today. 3. Evolution works as the process of natural selection takes advantage of the variety that is already present in a population. 4. Evolution through natural selection continues today. 5. Human populations adapt genetically in response to environmental forces. Process Questions

1. How does natural selection work? 2. How does the study of genetics explain the process of natural selection?


The First Humans

Material: Kottak, Conrad Phillip. “Early Hominins,” Anthropology: Appreciating Human Diversity. New York: McGraw Hill. pp. 162 – 180 Kottak, Conrad Phillip. “Archaic Homo,” Anthropology: Appreciating Human Diversity. New York: McGraw Hill. pp. 186 – 201 Summary

This chapter of the reading studies how the unwritten history of the human past was unearthed through paleo-anthropological field excavation of human fossil remains and the things that early humankind had produced. It goes on to explain how these remains were further analyzed through the study of changing environment in the ancient world, early human tools, diet, and other forms of material culture in what could be ancient camping remains of the first humans. The reading also explains how the various techniques used in dating human remains and early human tools. Furthermore, the reading presents the processes of biological and social evolution beginning with the appearance of archaic forms of humans known as the hominins , the taxonomic classification that marked the great split of the primate order into apes and humans about 5.8 million years ago. Furthermore, the reading tracks the further evolution of humans into older forms of the genus homo about 2 million years ago and the appearance of Homo sapiens sapiens or anatomically modern humans (AMH) between 300,000 and 150,000 years ago in Africa. A critical aspect that links biological and cultural dimensions of human evolution are the material cultures that were produced alongside these interlinked processes. Guide Questions

1. What are the key human attributes that scientists use in identifying certain fossils as early hominins? 2. What is the epoch when the first hominins appeared? 3. What are the biological changes and cultural abilities developed by each particular species of hominins? 4. What are the distinguishing characteristics of anatomically modern humans? 5. Has any of the hominins been able to spread out and populate a larger part of the world? If so, what made this possible? Terms and Names

Ardipithecus kadabba Australopithecus anamensis bipedalism hominid Homo habilis Orrorin tugenensis

Ardipithecus ramidus Australopithecus boisei foramen magnum hominin Kenyanthropus platyops Pleistocene

Australopithecus afarensis Australopithecus garhi Homo Oldowan tools Homo antecessor Homo erectus


Sahelanthropus tchadensis Acheulian Homo rudolfensis mitochondrial DNA

Heidelberg man Homo floresiensis interglacials interstadials

Homo heidelbergensis Paleolithic Pleistocene tundra

Activity 5. Analysis Chart

In this activity, the learners identify the biological characteristics and the capacity for culture of selected species of hominin in the process of human biocultural evolution. Cite the biological characteristics and cultural adaptation of the selected hominins necessary in the evolution process.

Hominin or Hominid

Significant Biological Characteristics

Cultural Means of Adaptation

Australopithecus anamensis Australopithecus afarensis Australopithecus boisei Homo habilis Homo erectus Homo sapiens Neanderthalensis

Process Questions

1. What is the role of cultural adaptation in human evolution? 2. How did early humans adapt to their environment? 3. How is cultural adaptation of early hominins relevant to modern humans? Activity 6. Evidence Chart

In this activity, the students will identify the physical characteristic and cultural advances of hominins. Imagine you are an archeologist digging an excavation site in search for fossil remains of early hominins. List down the biological features of a hominin fossil that you would look for in an excavati on site. Evidence for Bipedal Locomotion

Cranial Capacity

Teeth

Other anatomical / biological features


Process Questions

1. 2. 2. 3.

What information about hominid evolution does the fossil evidence provide? What are the limitations of fossil evidence? What inferences about early hominins are made from the fossils? What do tool-making abilities suggest about the cognitive capabilities of early hominins?

Activity 7. Idea Wheel

The learners are expected to infer the meaning behind the drawings or pictures that suggest the human attributes or markers of humanity in this activity. Identify the physical markers of hominins as suggested in the illustration provided in the areas circle A. Explain these characteristics in circle B.

Process Questions

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

What are the traits shared by hominids? What is the role of natural selection in the development of these traits? When did bipedalism evolve? Which species was the first early bipedal hominid? What specific evidence supports the idea of bipedalism in early hominids? Which early hominid fossils provide the strongest evidence of bipedalism? What does tool making suggest about the hominins ’ capacity for culture? What advantages might have been given by an increase in brains size?


Activity 8. Compare and Contrast Diagram

Students will compare and contrast the physical traits of australopithecines and the archaic Homo. How was the Homo habilis different from the australopithecine? Explain the comparison using the diagram below:

Activity 9. Create a Timeline

In this activity, the learners should trace the biological evolution of the hominids and hominin species using a timeline. The learners select the significant events and justify these events within the period. For instruction, teachers may ask the learners to do the following: 1. Create and illustrate a timeline of the evolution of hominins. Draw a straight line in the middle of the paper.


2. Space the events out evenly with the earliest hominin below and the more recent on the lines that follow. 3. Label each hominin with a boxed title, the date, and a colored drawing representing the hominin. 4. Write the dates for each event in time order from left to right. Add the details along the line.

Cultural and Sociopolitical Evolution

Materials: Kottak, Conrad Phillip. “The Origin and Spread of Modern Human,” Anthropology: Appreciating Human Diversity. New York: McGraw Hill. pp. 208 – 226 Kottak, Conrad Phillip. “The First Farmers,” Anthropology: Appreciating Human Diversity. New York: McGraw Hill. pp. 232 – 251 Summary

Citing evidence from the paleo-anthropological study of fossil remains as well as sophisticated analysis of human genes in the laboratory, the reading discusses the remarkable journey of modern humans out of Africa some 135,000 years ago and their eventual spread around planet. Genetic and fossil evidence suggest how a small band of humans who possibly descended from a single ancestral female parent 29 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

successfully made their way out of Africa, and then went on to reproduce several more descendants who peopled the world. Furthermore, findings from archeological sites and investigations of ancient climate patterns helped reconstruct the phenomenal story of how the descendants of this band of people populated and settled across several continents notwithstanding formidable natural barriers. Populating the world means overcoming deserts, oceans, and mountains as well as being enabled or constrained by shifting weather events such as glaciation (ice ages) and de-glaciation (global warming), and sea-level rise and fall. Key to understanding this human journey is cultural evolution as manifested by the growing sophistication of technology that humans produced and complexity of the groups that they organized. A flowering of creativity brought forth new kinds of tools, artworks, and later on farming and animal domestication in the steppes of Central Asia some 10,000 years ago. These events set in motion the series of change in the patterns of human settlement, including population increase and the emergence of towns. To support rapid population growth, particularly in the alluvial plains of southern Mesopotamia around 6,000 years ago, early forms of irrigation and intensive agricultural productions are evident along river valleys. Guide Questions

1. What theory explains the origin and spread of modern humans? What pieces of evidence support this theory? 2. What cultural advances enabled the spread of modern humans? 3. What is behavioral modernity? What are the first evidences of behavioral modernity among anatomically modern humans? 4. When did tools appear? In what species? 5. Which was the first hominid to leave evidence of culture? 6. What are the advances in technology made by the anatomically modern humans? What does this suggest about them? 7. What clues did hominins leave behind that reflected their cognitive abilities? 8. Describe three theories that may explain the purpose of cave art. Which do you think offers the best explanation? 9. When and how were the Americas and Australia settled? 10. Who settled in the Pacific? Later parts of the reading explain how the first groups of modern humans migrated and populated the world by settling in different regions as farmers and eventually as city dwellers. Terms and Names

anatomically modern humans behavioral modernity broad spectrum revolution

Austronesians Beringia Clovis tradition

Upper Paleolithic blade-core method Cro-Magnon


haplogroup Lake Mungo Melanesia Out of Africa II Caprine Hilly Flanks Jomon culture Nabta Playa Revolution sedentism

Herto Lapita culture mitochondrial DNA Polynesia China Indus Valley llama Natufians New World State

Homo sapiens Lascaux Cave Neanderthals Sahul dry farming Jarmo maize Neolithic Old World teosinte

Activity 10. Thesis-proof Chart

In this activity, students will gather and sort information in the two-column chart. Students will use key ideas to support the thesis. Write down ideas from the readings to support the thesis. Thesis: Out of Africa II: An Explanation of the Origin and Spread of Modern Humans

Supporting Evidence

Conclusion

Process Questions

1. What are the bases for this theory? 2. According to this theory, what was the origin of anatomically modern humans and how did they spread? 31 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

Activity 11. Concept Map

In this activity, the learners will visualize and grasp the relationship of concepts in the readings. As a matter of instruction, the teacher may ask the students to summarize and provide examples of behavioral modernity.

What is it?

Examples

Advantages of Behavioral Modernity of Anatomically Modern Humans

Behavioral Modernity Source 1 –

Evidence of Behavioral Modernity of Anatomically Modern Humans

Advantages of Behavioral Modernity of Anatomically Modern Humans

Source 2 –

Source 3 -

Process Questions

1. How important was creativity in the evolution of humans? 2. In what way had the flowering of human creativit y enabled the spread of modern humans?


Activity 12. Visual Memory Chart

In this activity, the students will identify the picture that represents important cultural development during the Upper Paleolithic. They will include words related to the visual and provide their own conclusion regarding these important cultural milestones. Learners should be instructed to identify the cultural advancements of AMHs during the Upper Paleolithic and provide their own conclusion.

Process Questions

1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

What is the observable trend in tool making during the Upper Paleolithic? What are the other trends in Homo’s economic activities during this period? What were the consequences of glacial retreat? How did people adapt to postglacial environment? What were the interpretations for the cave art painting made during the Upper Paleolithic?


Activity 13. Comic Strip

This group activity requires the learners to visualize the sequence of events in the spread of modern humans in the Americas, Australia, and the Pacific. Teachers may ask the learners to do the following: 1. Choose a topic from the choices below: a. The Settling of Australia b. Settling the Americas c. The Peopling of the Pacific 2. Provide a visual and sequential explanation of the events listed below. Show only significant or major events in your comic strip. Rubric for Comic Strip Category

Creativity

Theme

Characters and Dialogue

Landscape and Props

Number of Items

4 3 2 The pictures and All but 1 of the All but 2 of the captions reflect an pictures and pictures and exceptional captions reflect captions reflect degree of student an exceptional an exceptional creativity. There degree of degree of is great attention student student to detail. creativity creativity Only 4 panels All 6 panels relate Only 5 panels relate to the relate to the to the theme. theme. theme. The main The main The main characters are characters are characters are clearly identified, clearly identified but and their actions identified, and not well and dialogue are their actions developed and well matched to and dialogue their actions each other. match most of and dialogue the time. are too general. Landscape and Landscape and Landscape and props are directly props are props are related to the directly related generally theme or purpose to the theme or related to the of the comic and purpose of the theme or enhance comic. purpose of the understanding of comic. the scene. The comic has at The comic has The comic has least 6 panels. 5 panels. 4 panels.

1 More than 2 of the pictures and captions reflect little degree of student creativity Less than 4 panels relate to the theme. It is hard to tell who the main characters are.

Landscape and props seem randomly chosen OR distract the reader .

The comic has less than 4 panels.


Category

4 There are no spelling, Spelling, punctuation, or Punctuation, grammatical and errors. Grammar

Time and Effort

Class time was used wisely. Much time and effort went into the planning and design of the comic.

3 2 There are 1 – 3 There are 4 – 5 spelling, spelling, punctuation, or punctuation, grammatical and errors. grammatical errors. Class time was used wisely; however the student could have put in more time and effort into the planning.

1 There are more than 5 spelling, punctuation, and grammatical errors. Class time was Class time was used wisely; not used however the wisely. student could have put more time and effort into the design.

Source: science7tigers.weebly.com/uploads/1/0/8/8/... /rubric_for_comic_strip.do...

Activity 14. Comparison Chart

Students will describe and summarize their understanding of the changes that took place during the broad spectrum revolution. For instructions, teachers may ask the students to fill out the chart below by comparing how early humans carried out their lives in the lithic or stone-age revolutions: Aspect of life

Mesolithic

Neolithic

Lifestyle

Food

Tools/Weapons

Important Contributions


Activity 15. OPTIC

In this activity, the learners are expected to demonstrate the five steps in analyzing the picture. As they view the graphic, they may participate in the discussion, write a paragraph or chart to record the information. Teachers may instruct the learners to follow the following format of visual analysis: O – overview P – parts T – title I – interrelationship C – conclusion

1.Overview: ____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________ 2.Parts (Important parts or details): _____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________


3.Title (Event being shown): ____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________ 4.Interrelationships (main idea connecting the parts in the picture): _____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________ 5.Conclusion: ____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________

Process Question

What factors may help explain why people settled in permanent villages and began growing crops and raising livestock? Activity 16. Data Retrieval Chart

In this activity, the learners will list down all the information related to the spur of the agricultural revolution. The teachers may ask the learners to fill the chart with the needed information about the origin and spread of agriculture.

Regions

Specific Place/s

Specific Group of People

Domesticated Animals

Domesticated Plants

Old World Middle East Africa Asia New World Mesoamerica South America 37 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

Process Questions

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

What factors probably played a role in the origin of agriculture? The agricultural revolution had several birthplaces. Name three of them. What is sedentism? How is sedentism and farming connected? What factors led to the shift from foraging to food production? What are the differences between wild and domesticated plants? How did food production fuel the rise of state? In one or two sentences, summarize the section “Farming began in many places.”

Activity 17. Power Map

In this activity, students shall be asked to analyze the advantages and disadvantages of food production using the power sequence below:   

Power 1 (Main idea) Power 2 (Details supporting Power 1) Power 3 (Details supporting Power 2)

Teachers may ask the students to identify and explain the cost and benefits of food production. Process Questions

1. Why is food production considered an evolutionary advancement? 2. Does the cost of food production outweigh the benefits? Justify your answer. Material: Kottak, Conrad Phillip. “The First Cities and States,” Anthropology: Appreciating Human Diversity. New York: McGraw Hill. pp. 256 – 277 Summary

This chapter of the Kottak readings examines how the expansion of farm production and populated settlements led to the development of hierarchical but less stratified societies. These types of societies were referred to as chiefdoms, the precursor of sharply stratified class divided socio-political structures known as states. Furthermore, the reading tracks the origin of the state using an array of explanations. One theory of state formation points to the emergence of a central authority that regulates river-dependent agricultural enclaves. This theory argues that the regulation of these water-based farming colonies was born out of the need to manage and repair irrigation systems, drainage facilities, and flood-control infrastructures. Another theory suggests that the earliest states emerged from strategic sites of long-distance trading networks. Athird theory suggests that the rise of states may yet be driven 38 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

by various factors, which includes the concentration of population and resources into local but strategic areas. These concentrations eventually spurred population growth and increased tension with outside forces, underscoring the need for local unity and more sophisticated organizations. Furthermore, the reading traces the emergence of distinctive social ranks, classes, and the rise of the elites alongside the birth of cities and states in the Middle East. Guide Questions

1. 3. 4. 5.

What is a state? What theories explain the formation of a state? What are the attributes of states? What are the earliest states in the Middle East? What are the characteristics of these states? 6. What are chiefdoms? How does chiefdom differ from a state? 7. What gave rise to early states in Mesopotamia? Northwestern India and Pakistan? China? Africa? Mesoamerica? 8. Why do states collapse? Activity 18. Summary Diagram

In this activity, the learners will summarize the main idea of each theory about the rise of the state. The teachers may instruct the learners to summarize and provide a brief explanation on the theories on the rise of states.

Process Questions

1. What are the theories on state formation? 2. What theory offers the most convincing explanation? Why? 39 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

Activity 19. Equation

Students will explain the conceptual meaning and definition of state. Provide the information required for each circle.

The difference between state and chiefdom

The attributes

The meaning of

of a state

state

Activity 20. Sequence Chart

In this activity, students will identify the possible causes or reasons (in sequential order) that led to the rise of states. Teachers may ask the learners to list down the sequence of critical pre-historic human events leading to state formation. Topic : State Formation First :Shift from foraging to food production Next : Next : Next : Next : Next : Last :Rise of states

Process Questions

1. What is the most important development in the rise of the state? 3. Why do chiefdoms become states? 4. Why do some states collapse? Cite some examples.


Activity 21. Muddiest Point

This activity will help teachers gather written feedback on the aspects of the readings that the learners find difficult to comprehend. Teachers may ask the learners to point out the part of the reading that they find least comprehensible. Selected Readings

What is the muddiest point in the readings?

Evolution and Genetics Early Hominins Archaic Homo The Origin and Spread of Modern Humans The First Farmers The First Cities and States

Deepen

Material: Jocano, F. Landa. 1967. “The Beginnings of Filipino Society and Culture, ” Philippine Studies 15 (1): pp. 9 – 40 Summary

Life-forms scattered across what is now known as the Philippines appeared during a geological period known as the lower Eocene, some 60 million years ago. Evidence of the earliest human presence in the archipelago, however, was dated only after a series of geological and climate changes that brought forth an epoch referred as the Pleistocene, the ice ages that began some 1.8 million years ago and ended around 11,700 years ago. The Pleistocene is geologic period characterized by receding of seas that, in turn, resulted in the conjoining of what used to be islands into continuous land masses. Cultural remains such as stone tools collected from several parts of the Philippines showed that a group of people produced crudely made choppers and implements using flint, quartz, and chalcedony. Archeological work in the Tabon Cave of Palawan also found an industry of flake tools that were dated to 21,000 to 22,000 years ago. Subsequent Philippine archeological works as well as analysis of prehistoric artefacts deposited in the National Museum also indicated the appearance of several other types of tools dating between 7,000 and 250 years ago. Notwithstanding the array of material remains gathered up across a range of archeological sites, available records and analysis of prehistoric human migration to 41 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

the Philippines offer no conclusive proof of their migration origins. So far, a few theories have been suggested on the peopling pattern of the Philippines. On the basis of the remarkable features of the early stone implements, one theory suggested a migration pattern coming from mainland Asia that made its way to Luzon by way of Indo-China and then through the China Sea. Another theory suggested a migration route starting from Manchuria to later move eastward towards Japan and then southwards into Formosa and Luzon. Yet a third proposed a movement that began from central China and then carried on into Indo-China and Luzon and nort hward into Korea, Japan and Manchuria. While these suggested routes have remained a theory, geological evidence and human material remains indicate that there was indeed a series of prehistoric migration initiated by many groups of people with varying cultural and physical characteristics that reached the Philippines across time. Guide Questions

1. When and how did the Philippine islands emerge? 2. Who were the first peoples of the islands? Where were they from? How had they made their way into the islands? 3. What was the effect of the Pleistocene climate on the Philippines? 4. What is man’s classification in nature? 5. What are the major fossil groups described in the readings? 6. According to the text, who was considered the first Filipino? 7. What are the important biological and cultural developments during the Pleistocene period? 8. What notable developments took place in the Philippines during the Pleistocene period? Activity 22. Inquiry Chart

In this activity, the learners will be asked to compare their stock information of the first peoples in the Philippines with the article about “The Beginnings of the Filipino Society and Culture” written by F. Landa Jocano. Fill out the chart with facts and details from the Jocano reading.

Topic / Question

How was it possible for early humans to migrate to the Philippines?

Was there only one cultural group that spread out to the Philippines?

How does these changes affect or influence the present?

What I (we) know Text Source Summary


Process Questions

1. How did the Philippine islands emerge? 2. Who were the first humans in the Philippines? 3. What were the cultural advances in the Philippines during the paleolithic and neolithic periods?

Museums and Material Culture

Material: Pearce, Susan. 1999.“Museums of Anthropology or Museums as Anthropology?” Anthropologica, Vol. 41, No. 1, Anthropologie et musées, pp. 25 – 33 Summary

Museums are institutions that do not only keep and showcase material remains of the past for people to see and learn from. Museums play even more crucial role in influencing how people view the past, understand the present, and perceive the future in the way past materials and more recent artistic interpretations of these materials are displayed. In other words, museums are powerful institutions that authorize the people running them to decide what artifact is more valuable or interesting for people to see and experience. Through artistic reconstructions of the artifacts of museum artists and curators, the public is also redirected to a particular way of seeing museum pieces. Hence, museums shape the viewing public’s perspective of what is valuable and interesting in accordance with the political interest and aims of its managers. Museums are instrumental in rearranging the artifacts into meaningful but specific patterns. These patterns range from the justification or condemnation of colonialism to the presentation of human experiences. For example, these patterns and issues are encapsulated in the way the Pitt Rivers Museum at Oxford University in the United Kingdom has been set up. Established in the 19th century, the museum originally aimed to showcase artifacts from around the world. A closer examination of its objects, however, indicates that the knowledge the museum offers emanates from the scientific information on the cultural material itself as well as the point of view of the succession of curators that took care, labeled, and arranged these objects across the centuries. This reading highlights the political significance of museums in shaping not only the knowledge of mankind but also the way the people or communities wish to publicly represent their past, current circumstances, and hopes for the future. Guide Questions

1. What object did the Pitt Rivers Museum produce and market in 1995? 2. What is the significance of this object? 3. What authority does a museum have on material culture? 43 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

4. How do collectors view their collection? Why do some collectors bequeath their collections to accredited museums? 5. How did the Pitt Rivers Museum show the value of labels for museum collections? What is the importance of these labels? 6. What changes were made by some museums to improve their physical curation and display? Why were these changes necessary? 7. How did museum visitors react to these changes? Activity 23. Museum Wheel

In this activity, the learners identify museums and archeological sites near their area or that they are familiar with. Teachers may instruct the learners to list down some of the museums and archeological sites in the Philippines that they are familiar with or had visited. Include a short description of the location of these museum and archeological sites.

Museums and Archaelogical Sites in the Philippines

Process Questions

1. Are there enough museums in the country? Justify your answer. 2. Why are museums and archeological sites important?


Activity 24. Field Trip

At this point, the teacher may devise a plan and encourage the learners to visit a local museum, an archeological site, or a place of historic importance near the area. Instruct the students to write and submit a reflection paper on their field trip upon their return to school. The reflection paper may answer the following questions: 1. 2. 3. 4.

What are the main collections of the museum? What do you think is the most important collection? What have you learned from your visit in the museum? What is the important role of museums in our culture and history?

Transfer Research Presentation

Organize the learners into research groups of manageable size. Instruct them to prepare a research presentation that encapsulates the readings, lessons, fieldtrip experience, and further collection of secondary reading materials on biological human biocultural, sociopolitical evolution, and museum study. The goal of the research presentation is for the learners to reconstruct the story of human migration to the Philippines and the emergence of multiple cultures across the islands in prehistoric times. In this presentation, the learners should be able to demonstrate how evidences of human and sociocultural evolution had been gathered and analyzed by paleoanthropologists and genetic scientists in the study of human evolution and the succession of human journeys out of Africa. Moreover, the learners are expected to articulate the importance of fossil remains, the understanding of climate changes, and genetic analysis in piecing together the story of the early peoples of the Philippines. To execute this project, teachers may instruct the learners to work as a group in preparing for the report. Encourage the students to collect pictures for their presentation and write down their summary of findings on a Manila paper or as a slide presentation, if feasible. The report should be presented before a committee of instructors who will determine with the teacher which among the groups meets the standards of human biocultural and sociopolitical evolutionary research. Standard Category Details of Research

Exceeds Standard (5) Includes all details from research and has clear labels, phrases, or sentence descriptions

Meets Standard

Nearly Meets Standard (3)

(4) Includes most Includes some details from details from research and research and has clear labels has labels or or phrases phrases

Does Not Meet Standard (2) Includes only a few details from research using labels or phrases

No Evidence (1)

Score

No details from research


Category Effective ness

Quality

Results

Conclusi on

Reflect personal learning

Exceeds Standard

Meets Standard

(5) Viewer has a thorough understanding of topic researched. Backboard includes specific examples and/or illustrations in an organized manner and/or well-organized illustrations. Includes illustrations and labels. Content is edited for spelling and punctuation and has no errors.

(4) Viewer has an understanding of the topic researched. Backboard includes examples and /or illustrations.

All data are recorded and organized in a clear manner. All visible observations are provided. Complete and correct analysis of data is provided. Errors of experimentatio n are provided. The conclusion is engaging and restates personal learning. Shows great depth of knowledge and learning,

Nearly Meets Standard (3) Viewer has some understanding of the topic researched. Backboard includes some examples and/or illustrations.

Includes illustrations and labels. Content is edited for spelling and punctuation and has less than 3 errors.

Includes illustrations and labels. Content is not edited for spelling and punctuation and has more than 3 errors.

All data are recorded and organized in a clear manner. All visible observations are provided. Analysis of data is provided with a few errors. Errors of experimentatio n are provided.

All data are recorded and organized in a clear manner. Visible observations are missing. Analysis of data is provided with a few errors. Errors of experimentatio n are provided.

The conclusion restates the learning.

The conclusion does not adequately restate the learning. Does not go deeply into the reflection of learning,

Relates learning with research and project,

Does Not Meet Standard (2) Viewer has difficulty understanding topic researched. Backboard includes few examples and/or illustrations.

No Evidence (1)

Score

Backboard does not communicate topic researched.

Does not include illustrations and labels and/or contains more than 3 errors in spelling and punctuation. Incorrect data are provided regardless of inclusion or presentation of all other criteria.

Work is haphazard and careless, and has none of the required elements.

Incomplete and/or unfocused

Not applicable

Little or no explanation or reflection on learning,

Shows no evidence of learning or reflection.


Category

Exceeds Standard (5) reveals feelings and thoughts, and abstract ideas reflected through use of specific details

Meets Standard (4) personal and general reflections are included, uses concrete language

Nearly Meets Standard (3) generalizations and limited insight, uses some detail

Does Not Meet Standard (2) no or few details to support reflection

No Evidence (1)

Score

Lesson Closure

Complete the phrases below to summarize the lesson:     

The chapter was about … One key idea was … This is important because … Another key idea was… This matters because …


CHAPTER 3 BECOMING A MEMBER OF SOCIETY

I.

INTRODUCTION

As we learned in the previous chapter, culture is key to human adaptation, and as such every society has its own culture. In this chapter, we look at how individuals learn culture and become competent members of society through the process of enculturation or socialization, or the process of preparing individuals for membership in a given society. It explores four theories that explain the development of the self as a product of this process. The process of socialization entails learning the various elements of a society’s culture as well as its social structure. The discussion focuses on values, norms, status, and roles, as well as gender role socialization. The Reader for this course includes an article by Hiromu Shimizu which examines the process of socialization in the Philippines. Shimizu shows how the social environment in which Filipino children grow up orients the child toward getting along and being cooperative with others. Another article, by Michael Herzfeld, dissects how individuals become socialized to become indifferent persons, with social indifference being conditioned by the state, and the political and ideological interests that underpin bureaucratic structures. Since it is important that members follow cultural norms, every society has a system of social control to encourage conformity and discourage deviance or norm breaking. Nevertheless, deviance to a certain extent is tolerated by society. To understand why, this chapter explores Emile Durkheim’s argument that deviance has at least four social functions. Robert Merton argued that the extent and type of deviance people engage in depend on whether a society provides the means (such as schooling and job opportunities) to achieve cultural goals (such as financial success). Conformity lies in pursuing cultural goals through approved means. Four types of deviance may, however, arise from the inability to achieve a cultural goal using socially approved means. The discussion of socialization and deviance emphasizes that members of any society have to work toward the continued existence of that society. Carol Hanish, Richard Bellamy, and Arjun Appadurai and Katerina Stenou explore the wider context, content, processes, and consequences of socialization, conformity, and deviance. Hanish discusses the rise of social movements, in particular the feminist movement in the United States, and in a broader sense, how important collective action is for a collective solution. Bellamy explores citizenship, why it matters, and the challenges confronting it today. Appadurai and Stenou utilize the idea of cultural pluralism as a 48 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

lens for understanding and addressing the situation of migrants, refugees, minorities, and many others. Focus Question

How do individuals learn culture and become members of society?

II.

CONTENT

I. Enculturation/Socialization a. Identity formation i. Identities ii. Disciplines iii.Aspirations b. Norms and values c. Statuses and roles i. Age ii. Gender 2. Conformity and deviance a. Social control i. Gossip ii. Social ostracism iii. Laws and punishments b. Forms of deviance i. Ritualism ii. Retreatism iii. Rebellion IV. Innovation 3. Human dignity, rights, and the common good

III.

STANDARD

Content Standard

The learners demonstrate an understanding of: A. How individuals learn culture and become competent members of society. B. How individuals should behave as part of political community.


Performance Standard

The learners:   

Identify the norms and values to be observed in interacting with others in society, and the consequences of ignoring these rules. Assess the rules of social interaction to maintain stability of everyday life and the role of innovation in response to problems and challenges. Recognize the value of human rights and promote the common good.

IV. LEARNING COMPETENCIES

1. Explain the development of one’s self and others as a product of socialization and enculturation 2. Identify the context, content, processes, and consequences of enculturation and socialization  Identify the social and the socially acceptable means of achieving these goals  Advocate inclusive citizenship Promote protection of human dignity, rights, and the common good

Key Concepts Socialization is the lifelong social experience by which people develop their human potential and learn culture. Unlike other living species, whose behavior is mostly or entirely set by biology, humans need social experience to learn their culture and to survive. Social experience is also the foundation of personality, a person’s fairly consistent patterns of acting, thinking and feeling (Macionis 2012: 102).

Another term for socialization is enculturation. There are many theories on how the self, as a product of socialization, is formed. We will examine the work of four researchers: Sigmund Freud, Charles Cooley, George Herbert Mead, and Jean Piaget (Macionis 2012: 104 – 108). Freud’s model of personality . Sigmund Freud (1856 – 1939) combined basic needs and the influence of society into a model of personality with three parts: id, ego, and superego. The id represents the human being’s basic drives, or biological and physical needs which are unconscious and demand immediate satisfaction. In the human personality, the superego refers to the cultural values and norms internalized by an individual. Society, through its values and norms, opposes the self-centered id. The ego is, thus, a person’s conscious efforts to balance innate pleasure-seeking drives (id) with the demands of society (superego).


Piaget’s theory of cognitive development . From his studies of human cognition, or how people think and understand. Jean Piaget (1896 – 1980) identified four stages of cognitive development.

Stage one is the sensorimotor stage (first two years of life), the level of human development at which individuals know the world only through the five senses. Stage two is the preoperational stage (about age two to seven) at which individuals first use language and other symbols. Stage three is concrete operational stage (between the ages of seven and eleven) at which individuals first see causal connections in their surroundings. The last stage is the formal operational stage (about age twelve) at which individuals think abstractly and critically. Mead’s theory of the social self . George Herbert Mead (1863 – 1931) For Mead, the self is a part of our personality and includes self-awareness and self-image. It is the product of social experience, and is not guided by biological drives (see Freud) or biological maturation (see Piaget). According to Mead, the key to developing the self is learning to take the role of the other. Infants can do this only through imitation and, without understanding underlying intentions, have no self. As children learn to use language and other symbols, the self emerges in the form of play. Play involves assuming roles modeled on significant others, or people, such as parents, who have special importance for socialization. Then, children learn to take the roles of several others at once, and move from simple play with one other to complex games involving many others. The final stage in the development of the self is when children are able to not only take the role of specific people in just one situation, but that of many others in different situations. Mead used the term generalized other to refer to widespread cultural norms and values we use as references in evaluating ourselves. Cooley’s Looking-glass Self . Charles Horton Cooley (1864 – 1929) used the phrase looking-glass self to mean a self-image based on how we think others see us. As we interact with others, the people around us become a mirror (an object that people used to call a “looking glass”) in which we can see ourselves. What we think of ourselves, then, depends on how we think others see us. For example, if we think others see us as clever, we will think of ourselves in the same way. But if we feel they think of us as clumsy, then that is how we will see ourselves. Agents of socialization

Several settings have special importance in the socialization process. These include the family, school, peer group, and the mass media. The family, usually the first setting of socialization, has the greatest impact on attitudes and behavior. Schools teach knowledge and skills needed for later life, and expose children to greater social diversity. The peer group takes on great importance during adolescence. The mass media have a huge impact on socialization in modern societies.


Values, norms, status, and roles

Socialization is also defined as the process of preparing members for membership in a given group in society. Through socialization, individuals learn the norms and values of their society. Values are culturally defined standards that people use to decide what is desirable, good, and beautiful and that serve as broad guidelines for social living. Norms are the rules and expectations by which a society guides the behavior of its members. Socialization prepares individuals to occupy statuses and roles (Macionis 2012: 127 – 128). Status refers a social position that a person holds. An ascribed status is a social position a person receives at birth or takes on involuntarily later in life. Examples of ascribed statuses include being a daughter, a Filipino, a teenager, or a widower. Achieved status refers to a social position a person takes on voluntarily that reflects personal ability and effort. Achieved statuses include honors student, athlete, nurse, software writer, and thief. Role refers to behavior expected of someone who holds a particular status. Gender role socialization Sex refers to the biological characteristics distinguishing male and female (Macionis 2012: 169). Sex is based on chromosomes, anatom y, hormones, reproductive systems, and other physiological components. Gender refers to those social, cultural, and psychological traits linked to males and females through particular social contexts. Sex makes us male or female; gender makes us masculine or feminine. All the major agents of socialization — family, peer groups, schools, and the mass media — reinforce cultural definitions of what is feminine and masculine. (Dionisio 1992: 1-2; Macionis 2012: 170).

V.

LESSON

Lesson 1: Enculturation and Socialization Explore Activity 1. DOs and DON’Ts

In this activity, let the students revisit their past experiences and research on the norms and values of their family, community, municipality, and country. Answers should be limited to the DOs and DON ’Ts of their age. The discussion in classes in urban areas could include norms of traffic behavior requiring mutual consideration (e.g., drivers stop atpedestrian lanes and pedestrians cross the street speedily and only on pedestrian lanes, drivers not jumping the queue during heavy traffic). Class discussions in non-urban schools could include norms on overspending for a fiesta 52 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

and other festivities, homecoming celebration of an overseas Filipino worker, or weddings.

Social Environment

DOs

DON’Ts

Family

Community/ Neighborhood

Municipality/ City

Country

Ask someone from your class to share his/her story using the questions as guide. Process Questions

1. Did you have any difficulty in answering the acti vity? If yes, why? If no, why not? 2. Are there similarities between your experiences and observations and those of your classmates? 3. In your family, who gives guidance on proper decorum and other “family traditions”? 4. In your community or neighborhood, who defines standards of what is acceptable or not? 5. In your municipality/city and the country, who determines what is moral and immoral, and what is legal and illegal? 6 Was there an instance when you did what you shouldn’t as prescribed by “authorities”? How did they react? 53 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

Note: The term “authorities” in question no. 6 pertains to parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and elder siblings in the family; neighbors, elders, and leaders in the community and neighborhood; and the agents of the local and national governments in municipality/city and country.

Firm up Activity 2. The World and I

This activity is related to Activity 1 in Explore phase.Teachers will ask the students to look back on their childhood. The focus of this activity is their interaction/socialization with their families, relatives, neighbors, and godparents.

Relatives

Family

ME

Neighbors

Godparents

Ask volunteers from your students to share their activity with their classmates. 54 All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

Process Questions

1. How did your family take care of you as a child? 2. What role did your relatives play in your upbringing? 3. How did your neighbors interact with you as a child? To what extent did they socialize with your family? 4. Do you personally know your godparents? How did your parents choose your godparents? 5. What roles did your godparents play in your upbringing? After the students assess the extent or level of their interaction/socialization with their family, relatives, neighbors and godparents with them, let them read an article to reinforce their initial knowledge on how a Filipino child develops within a family and community. Material: Shimizu, Hiromu, 1991. “Filipino Children in Family and Society: Growing Up in a Many-People Environment” SA 21 Selected Readings, Department of Sociology and Anthropology (ed.). Quezon City: Office of Research Publications, Ateneo de Manila University. pp.106 – 25 Guide Question 

What are the context, content, processes, and consequences of the socialization of Filipino children?

Summary

Shimizu discusses the social environment in which children grow up in the Philippines. In particular, he examines the socialization process of Filipino children who are born and brought up in the many-people environment beyond the nuclear family. In the Philippines, the nuclear family has frequent and intimate interactions with the families living nearby, forming a local kin group comprising magkamag-anak (consanguineal or affinal relations) and magkapitbahay (neighboring relations). The socialization agents of children include the personal kindred (a range of a person ’s relatives accorded special cultural recognition) and ritual kinship (compadre system). Within this context, child rearing develops the following features: presence of many parenting figures or surrogates for the mother and father; long dependency period, owing to the fact that there are many adults or elderly people who can become parenting figures; and very little stress or feelings of frustration for the child because there are many parent-surrogates to satisfy his or her desires. This socialization process of the child in the Philippines may be described as extremely dependent, but it has a positive connotation. Dependency in this case implies that the child is able to form cooperative relationships in which all the members depend on and help each other. In this social environment, the good child is one who is oriented toward getting along and is cooperative with others.


S u m m a r y

A c c o a r d r t i i n c l g e t o t h e

W h a t I k n o w

G r E M o F C n w S a h F T v a n i o m i i i y n r l c d i l i O o -P g i y P r p n e U e l e i I t n C m o n a y p : n i o e p d n n l i n t e a G n u m W u c i l e m h d e e o a r b Q f e r 1 u r a a e s m o t e h s i t f e l a i y o ? n

’

G m a u g W d i k m a h e m a e t 2 Q a d u n a g e ? - o s a e t n s i o a n k G m a W u i g d m k h e a a e p t 3 Q a u n i t d ? b e a o s h e t s i a o y n

r G e c u W h s p i i o h d l d n o e r s i h 4 Q e b a a i s u l r e i i t t n y h s t g f e i o ? o n r G

F H u i i l d m p i o e w a i n d 5 Q t u o u o r e e h e ? c s s i l a t i d o n

I n I f m O o r p m o t h r e a t a r t i n o n t N e w Q u e s t i o n s

t h A f e t e t e x r r t . e a d i n g S h i m i z u s a r t i c l e , a s k t h e s t u d e n t s t o a n s w e r t h e g u i d e q u e s t i o n s i n t h e i n q u i r y c h a r t t o c h e c k t h e i r u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f

I n q u i r y C h a r t

A c t i v i t y 3 . I n q u i r y C h a r t ( T r a c i n g H o w t h e F i l i p i n o C h i l d G r o w s U p )


Process Questions

1. How do magkapitbahay help one another?  If women are working, how can they easily find someone to take care of their children?  What is the family’s typical reaction towards a newborn child of a separated or unwed member of the family?  How does long dependency affect Filipino children ’s development?  What is the role of Filipino children in a family?  How does the view of the child being an investment and security for old age ” affect the size of Filipino family?  How does the Filipino community affect the development of Filipino children as members of society? Deepen

Material: Herzfeld, Michael. 1993. “Introduction: The Social Production of Indifference,” The Social Production of Indifference: Exploring the Symbolic Roots of Western Democracy. Chicago and London: Chicago University Press. pp. 1 – 16 Guide Question

How is social indifference conditioned by state, political, and ideological interests that underpin bureaucratic structures? Activity 4. Chain Reaction

After reading the material written by Herzfeld, ask the students to answer the chainreaction chart to check their comprehension and understanding of the text.

Bureaucracy

State

Politics

Ideology

Social Indifference


Process Questions

1. What is the definition and scope of bureaucracy according to Herzfeld?  How does the aim of having a national character/identity affect the social and cultural beings of individuals?  What are the state’s instruments of control?  Why do the people blame the bureaucrats if the latter fail to meet the former ’s expectations? Once it happens, why do the bureaucrats blame the system for the said failure?  How does the idea of fate ( Inshalla) affect the person’s ability and belief?  How did Herzfeld compare bureaucracy to the system of religion?  How did the power of blood kinship evolve from primitive time to the modern nation-state?  How does bureaucracy transform individuals into socially indifferent members of the state? Lesson 2: Conformity and Deviance Firm Up Conformity and deviance (Macionis 2012: 194)

Every society is a system of social control, or attempts by society to regulate people’s thoughts and behavior. Social control encourages conformity to certain norms and discourages deviance or norm breaking. Deviance range from minor infractions, such as bad manners, to major infractions, such as serious violence. Norms that become specified and institutionalized are called laws. Crime refers to the violation of the law. There is a lack of consensus in society regarding which behaviors or traits are deviant. What is considered as deviance will vary across time, places, and social groups. How a society defines deviance, who is branded as deviant, and what people decide to do about deviance all have to do with the way society is organized. The functions of deviance (Macionis 2012: 197).According to Emile Durkheim (1858 – 1917), deviance performs the following functions: Affirms cultural norms and values. Deviance is needed to define and support  morality. There can be no good without evil and no justice without crime. Clarifies moral boundaries. By defining some individuals as deviant, people  draw a boundary between right and wrong. Brings people together. People typically react to serious deviance with shared  outrage, and in doing so reaffirm the moral ties that bind them.  Encourages social change. Deviant people suggest alternatives to the status quo and encouraging change.


Merton’s strain theory (Macionis 2012: 197 – 198). Robert Merton (1910 – 2003) argued that the extent and type of deviance people engage in depend on whether a society provides the means (such as schooling and job opportunities) to achieve cultural goals (such as financial success). Conformity means achieving cultural goals through approved means. However, the strain between the cultural goal and the lack of opportunities to achieve these goals using approved means may result in deviance. Merton identifies four types of deviance: innovation, ritualism, retreatism, and rebellion. Innovation involves using unconventional means (for example, Steve Jobs, the founder of the Apple computer company, and his colleagues who, without support from big corporations, worked in a garage to invent personal computers) rather than conventional means (working for an established computer company) to achieve a culturally approved goal (wealth). In ritualism, people do not care much about the goal (getting rich) but stick to the rules (the conventional means) anyway in order to feel “respectable.” A third response to the strain between the cultural goal and the approved means is retreatism, rejecting both cultural goals and conventional means so that a person in effect “drops out.” The fourth response is rebellion. Like retreatists, rebels reject both the cultural definition of success and the conventional means of achieving it, but they provide alternatives to the existing social order. Lesson 3: Human Dignity, Rights, and the Common Good

Material: Bellamy, Richard. 2008. “What is Citizenship, and Why Does is Matter,” Citizenship: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press. pp. 1 – 26 Activity 5. My Prediction

Let the students read the title, first page, and last page of the article. Make them think of what they already know about the topic or the article itself.

I think this reading about citizenship would be about __________________________ __________________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________________


My Prediction

Draw or write a short paragraph on what you think would be discussed in the reading .

Processing Questions

1. Why did you come up with these speculations? 2. What ideas, events, and actions can you relate with citizenship? Activity 6. Build with Details

Let the students read the article all the way through. List three important details about citizenship that will help them come up with the most important idea that the material is trying to express. Title: _______________________________________________________________

Detail 2

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN NN 1 l i a t e D

NNNN NNNNNNN NNNNNNNNNN NNNNNNNNNNNNNN

NNNNNNNNNNNN NNNNNNNNN NNNNNN NNNN

NN NNNNN NNNNNNNN

D e t a i l 3

NNNNNNNNNNN

N

NNNNNNNNNNNNNN

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

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Process Questions

1. What made you choose the details that you pick up? 2. How would these listed details add up to your understanding of citizenship? Activity 7.Citizenship Chart

Tell the students to fill in the citizenship chart below to organize the important points on the reading.

Citizenship

Why does it need to be understood in political terms?

Definition of citizenship on the article

What are the challenges to citizenship?

My own definition of citizenship

Process Questions

1. 3. 2. 3.

Why does citizenship matter to every nation? Why is citizenship often regarded as the solution to a country’s ills? How can problems on citizenship be solved? What would be your considerations in coming up with your own definition of citizenship?

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Activity 8.Footprints of a Good Citizen

Tell the students to list down the ways with which one can become a good citizen of the nation and then ask them to elaborate on how they themselves would do these.

%

&

'

(

*

)

Process Questions

1. How will the country benefit from what you have listed? 2. How will you influence other people to become good and active citizens?

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Activity 9:Article Review

Tell the students that they will make an article review of the reading “What is Citizenship, and Why Does is Matter?” Remind them to take into considerations the proper ways of doing the article review. Instruct them to research on the Internet on ways to do article reviews. Give them this rubric as a guide for their article review. Performance Indicators Criteria 1. Summarizes the context and content of the selected article

Excellent (4 points) Provides a very thorough and clear and concise summary of the article context and content.

2. Identifies and Thoroughly describes your describes your personal personal reaction to the reaction to the article article; includes discussion of the relevant issues within the article.

Very Good (3 points)

Satisfactory (2 points)

Minimally Responsive (1 point) Provides a somewhat muddled, unclear and rambling summary of the article.

Unacceptable (0 points)

Provides a clear and concise summary of the article context and content.

Provides a clear but shallow summary of the article; may be excessively brief or may include some extraneous information.

Provides an unclear and unintelligible summary of the article OR No summary at all.

Describes your personal reaction to the article; includes a simplistic discussion of the relevant issues within the article.

Describes Attempts to Provides an your personal describe your unclear, reaction to the personal unintelligible article; reaction to and illogical includes no the article, description of discussion of but lacks a personal the relevant logical flow reaction issues within and reaction OR the article. is muddled; No description no discussion of personal of any reaction at all. relevant issues in the article.

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Performance Indicators Criteria 3. Grammar, mechanics, and APA style for references and citations

Excellent (4 points) Contains all correct information regarding article title, author name, and article source and date. Consistently contains accurate and proper grammatical conventions, spelling, and punctuation. Clearly and consistently uses proper APA formatting

Very Good (3 points) Contains all correct info regarding article title, author name, and article source and date. Contains accurate and proper grammatical conventions, spelling, and

Satisfactory (2 points)

Minimally Responsive (1 point)

Unacceptable (0 points)

Contains Contains Response is mostly correct incorrect info totally info regarding regarding unintelligible article title, article title, OR author name, author name, No response and article and article source and source and date. date. Contains Contains frequent numerous errors in errors grammatical in conventions, grammatical spelling, and conventions, punctuation; spelling, and errors begin to punctuation; interfere substantially with paper’s interferes meaning. with paper’s Inconsistently meaning. uses APA

Source:file:///C:/Users/Ben/Downloads/Documents/SHS_PBH342_Article_Review_R ubric.pdf

Article Review Grading Rubric

The following criteria will be used to grade your article review. Keep in mind that the score requirement described under each point outlines the minimum performance that must be demonstrated in order to achieve that score. The grade received for each article will account for 5%, with a total of 5 accountable for 25% of your final grade. Transfer Activity 10. Interviews and Presentation

As a closing activity for this chapter, the class shall be divided into four (4) groups. Each group will interview a particular set of interview partners. The assignment of

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each group is listed below. Sample questions are also listed below. All the groups will be asked to present their findings and analysis before the class. Group Group 1 Group 2 Group 3 Group 4

Interview partners Grandparents Parents Single Adults Teenagers

Guide Questions:

1. What kind of work, school (if applicable) and leisure activities do you engage in nowadays? 2. Were there changes in these activities? When and why? 3. How has your family (neighbors, society in general) shaped your understanding of what it means to be a grandfather (or grandmother, parent, adult, teenager) with regard to work, school and leisure activities? 4. What messages did you receive regarding what it means to be a grandfather teenager )? (or grandmother parent adult 5. What norms govern your social interactions with: - grandchildren (for grandparents) - children (for parents) - nephews/nieces (for single adults) - teenagers and younger siblings (for teenagers) 6. Describe yourself as a Filipino citizen. “

“

”, “

”, “

”, “

”

”

Note: Rubrics on paper presentation can also be used in evaluating this activity

References

1. Dionisio, Eleanor. 1992. Chapter 1, “Sex and Gender” in: E. Eviota (ed.) Sex and Gender in Philippine Society . Manila: NCRFW. pp. 1 – 30

2. Macionis, John. 2012. Sociology, 14th ed. Boston: Pearson

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CHAPTER 4 ORGANIZING SOCIETY I.

INTRODUCTION

Summary

This chapter explores our membership in particular social groups, and brings us to the topic of social structure, or the organized aspects of social life. At a smaller level, social structure refers to the interrelationships between particular social groups in a society such as kinship and barkada. In a broader sense, it refers to the interrelationships of the social institutions of a society. The chapter is divided into two parts. Lesson 1 explores how society is organized and how social structure affects one’s relationships and influence. Lesson 2 deepens the discussion on social structure by analyzing various social and political institutions and how they interact with one another. Understanding how society is organized helps us probe how social interactions influence the role we play and the power we wield as an individual, a group, and a nation. Focus Questions

1. What is the relationship between how society is organized and the social interactions in everyday life? 2. How does the social organization of society influence political participation?

II.

CONTENT

A. How Society is Organized 1. 2. 3. 4.

Groups within Society: Primary and Secondary In-groups and Out-groups Reference Groups Networks

B. Cultural, Social, and Political Institutions 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Kinship, Marriage, and the Household Political and Leadership Structures Economic Institutions Nonstate Institutions Education Religion and Belief Systems Health

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III.

STANDARD

Content Standard

The learners demonstrate an understanding of cultural, social, and political institutions as sets of norms and patterns of behavior that relate to major social interests. Performance Standard

At the end of the chapter, the learners will be able to: 1. Analyze aspects of social organization 2. Identify one’s role in social groups and institutions 3. Recognize other forms of economic transaction such as sharing, gift exchange, and redistribution in his/her own society

IV.


A. How Society is Organized 1. Trace kinship ties and social networks 2. Describe the organized nature of social life and rules governing behavior 3. Compare different social forms of social organization according to their manifest and latent functions 4. Analyze social and political structures B. Cultural, Social, and Political Institutions 1. Analyze economic organization and its impacts on the lives of people in the society 2. Differentiate functions of nonstate institutions in society 3. Evaluate how functions of education affect the lives of people in society 4. Promote primary education as a human right 5. Recognize the practice of medical pluralism in light of cultural diversity and relativism 6. Conduct participant observation of an activity associated with any of the various institutions in society (e.g., attend, describe and reflect on a religious ritual, observe elections practices)

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V.

LESSON

Lesson 1: Exploring Groups Within Society Specific Objectives

In this lesson, the learners are expected to do the following: 1. Explain what is a social group 2. Differentiate the different types of social groups 3. Evaluate how these groups relate to one another Explore Activity 1: My Social Groups

Directions: Identify the groups that you are a part of and assign this on the drawing below according closeness.

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Process Questions

1. 2. 4. 5.

Who/ what group(s) is/are the closest to you? Who/ what group(s) is/are farthest from you? Are some group(s) that are connected with each other? What are they? What are the factors that you consider when identifying a group’s proximity to you?

Firm Up Key concepts

Society is made up of social groups. A social group consists of two or more people who identify with and interact with one another. People who make up a group share experiences, loyalties, and interests. Examples of social groups are couples, families, circles of friends and barkada, churches, clubs, businesses, neighborhoods, and large organizations (Macionis 2012: 146). According to Macionis (2012), there are two types of social groups. The primary group is a small social group whose members share personal and lasting relationships. These personal and tightly integrated groups are among the first groups an individual experiences in life. The most important primary group in any society is the family. Friends who shape an individual’s attitudes, behavior, and social identity also form one’s primary group. The secondary group is a large and impersonal social group whose members pursue a specific goal or activity. Unlike the primary group which is defined according to who they are in terms of family ties or personal qualities, membership in secondary groups is based on what people can do for each other. Over time, a group may transform from secondary to primary, as with classmates or neighbors who develop closer relationships. Moreover, while it is possible to identify some groups as either primary or secondary, most social groups actually contain elements of both. For example, a student organization may be larger and more anonymous, but its members may identify strongly with one another and provide mutual support. Through socialization, individuals develop the need to conform. To assess one’s own attitudes and behaviors, individuals use a reference group , a social group that serves as a point of reference in making evaluations and decisions (Macionis, 2012). Reference groups can be primary or secondary, as well as groups that we do not belong to, as in the case of a person following fashion styles described in a fashion magazine. Besides reference groups, there is also the opposition of in-groups and out-groups. An in-group is a social group toward which a member feels respect and loyalty, while an * All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

out-group is a social group toward which a person feels a sense of competition or opposition (Macionis, 2012).

As groups grow beyond three people, they become more stable and capable of withstanding the loss of one or more members. At the same time, increases in group size reduce the intense personal interaction possible only in the smallest groups. Larger groups are based less on personal attachment and more on formal rules and regulations (Macionis, 2012). A network is group containing people who come into occasional contact but who lack a sense of boundaries and belonging (Macionis, 2012). Some scholars claim that networks are nonhierarchical, value-free, and structure-less organizations, and that they are composed of people working on similar tasks without necessarily knowing each other. This is illustrated by social networking sites such as Facebook.

Activity 2: “Group” Matrix

Directions: Complete the table/matrix below by citing examples of various kinds of groups in the Philippine context. Why do You Think So? Examples

Explanation

1. Primary Group

2. Secondary Group

3. In-Group

4. Out-Group

5. Networks

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Transfer Activity 3. Small Group Work

1. Identify the various social groups in your barangay. 2. On a sheet of paper, map out these groups. Use symbols to indicate the relationship between two or more groups (example: arrow/straight line for network, broken line for out-group, etc). Lesson 2: Examining Cultural, Social, and Political Institutions Explore Activity 4: Find Me! Directions: Ask the learners to complete the table/matrix below. Each learner must go around asking classmates to sign on the box if they match the description contained therein. Alternatively, the class may fill in the boxes as a group. In this case, the teacher would have to reproduce the matrix on the blackboard, and then ask for a show of hands for the description in each box.

Who has been treated at a Who has a brother or sister Who has a copy of his or health center or hospital in currently enrolled in her birth certificate (at the last six months? elementary school? home)? Who lives with their parent(s) and grandparent(s)?

Who carries a religious item in his/her bag or pocket?

Who has met a local government official?

Who has shared a food item with neighbors in the last twelve months?

Who is a member of a community-basedyouth group?

Who has bought anything from a sari-sari store in the last two weeks?

Process Questions

1. What kinds of institutions do you think were represented in the activity? 2. How do the family, school, religion, economy, civil society, and the health center or hospitals affect your life?

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Firm up

Living in a society implies that we are governed by a set of rules. Some rules may be imposed while others are negotiated. Regardless of how these were arranged, their importance in understanding what is culturally, socially and politically acceptable cannot be denied. A social institution “consists of all the structural components of a society through which the main concerns and activities are organized, and social needs … are met” (Marshall 1998: 317–318). In addition to this, there is also a tradition of the study of institutions as constraining. Douglass North defines institutions as “humanly devised constraints that structure, political, economic and social interactions” (North 1991: 97). These constraints come in the form of informal control such as taboos, culture and tradition. Constraints are also manifested through the establishment of formal rules such as law and constitution. Generally, institutions evolve over time as a result of the changing relationship among groups in society. There are institutions, however, that persist despite changes in the economic, social, and political landscape. In Philippine society, some important institutions are family, religion, and civil society. Other institutions such as market and economy, education, and health are also notable. Key concepts

Family is a social institution found in all societies that unites people in cooperative groups to care for one another, including any children (Macionis 2012: 418). The nuclear family is a family composed of one or two parents and their children. It is also known as a conjugal family.

As an extended family is a family composed of parents and children as well as other kin. It is also known as a consanguine family (Ibid). Shimizu (1991: 106) observed that while the nuclear family is the basic form of household in the Philippines, the nuclear family is “not a closed, isolated unit consisting of only the married couple and their unmarried children It has frequent and intimate interactions with the families living nearby. It is not unusual to find elderly parents or elderly unmarried siblings of the household’s head still living together in the same household.” A reconstituted family is a family whose composition and form of emotional care differ from those of the nuclear or extended family. One example is the femaleheaded transnational family, a household with “core members living in at least two nation-states and in which the mother works in another country while some or all of her dependents reside in the Philippines” (Parreñas 2001: 361). From Parreñas’s definition of a female-headed transnational family, we can define the transnational family as one with core members living in at least two nation-states. Kinship.Family ties are also called kinship, a “social bond based on common ancestry, marriage, or adoption” (Macionis 2012: 418). A more traditional understanding of kinship follows the idea that persons who extend duties and +& All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

privileges to one another on the basis of consanguinity or blood relations are considered members of the same kin group. Kinship relations around the world, however, are organized differently and in ways that do not simply follow blood or biological relations. There are several types of kinship relations within groups. For instance, some societies organize themselves through a matrilineal descent, where people are regarded as members of the mother’s group by birth and throughout their lifetime. Societies organized along a patrilineal descent automatically consider people as members of the father’s group by birth and throughout their lifetimes. Societies with bilateral descent, such as many of the societies in the Philippines, trace automatic membership to both sides of descent. Many societies share the idea that members of a kin group help each other take care of a person’s welfare, protection, marriage, offspring, career, and identity (Service 1962; Ember, Ember, and Perigrine 2011). Ritual kinship refers to ritual parent-child relations such as the godparent-godchild relationship established through the baptism ceremony of Roman Catholics. In the Philippines, this is called the compadre system (Shimizu 1991: 118). Bands. In many areas of the world, small groups of people connected mainly by kinship ties organize themselves into a community.This form of organization is called a band.A band is usually led by a headman who members of the the community considered as either their best hunter or wisest member. A band, which is by itself a politically autonomous organization and a type of society, typically comprises about 100 persons and occupies a large local territory that serves as their hunting or foraging ground. Members of the band either live within one community or scatter themselves across their territory. Nearly all societies established before the development of farming some 10,000 years ago organized themselves into bands. More recent nomadic and foraging societies also establish themselves into groups that may resemble the anthropological description of band (Service 1962; Ember, Ember, and Perigrine 2011). Tribes. Some kindred groups from multiple localities integrate themselves into a larger unit of relations. That integrated formation of multi-local kin groups can be referred as a tribal society or a tribe. As a tribe, communities of kin form an informal structure especially in cases of outside threats but breaks up and return to a state of self-reliance once that threat subsides. A tribe is rather fragile as a political system but militarily and organizationally efficient in dealing with threats whether from an external enemy or natural calamities. In the Philippines, some wrongly consider a linguistic group as a tribal formation.Members of the same linguistic groups do link together for various reasons but do not necessarily integrate themselves into larger political units in times of external threat and then dissolve that integration when a threat has passed (Service 1962; Ember, Ember, and Perigrine 2011). Chiefdoms. Some societies organize some form of formal structures that integrate several communities into a political unit under the leadership of a council with or +' All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

without a chief. These societies are referred as chiefdoms. A chiefdom, however, is usually headed by a chief, a person of higher rank as well as authority compared to other members of a council. The council that makes up a chiefdom normally comprises the chiefs of a community or multiple communities (district). Many chiefdoms have an established system of social stratification with some members, particularly the chief and the district chiefs, being bestowed with a higher rank and accorded a status of prestige. The primary role of the chief is to resolve conflicts, distribute goods, plan the use of resources and public labor, supervise religious ceremonies, and command military affairs in accordance with the interest of the chiefdom(Service 1962; Ember, Ember, and Perigrine 2011). Weberian Types of Authority (Weber 1961: 173–179)

Max Weber’s work on social action showed one of the clearest links between individuals and institutions. As defined by Weber, social action is one thatindividuals attach subjective meanings to. In other words, social action is action that is meaningful. Weber identified four types of social action. • • • •

Traditional action isdetermined by the actor’s habitual and customary ways of behaving. Affectual action isdetermined by the emotional state of the actor. Value rationality isdetermined by a conscious belief in the value of some ethical, aesthetic, religious or other forms of behavior. Means-ends rationality is determined by goal orientation.

These four types of social action form the bases of the s tructures of authority, or the legitimate forms of domination. There are three types of authority according to Weber. • Traditional authority is associated with hereditary authority (example: monarchy). • Charismatic Authority is associated with charismatic leaders whose authority comes from followers’ belief in the leaders’ special personal qualities (example: cult leaders, benevolent dictators). • Rational-legal authority is associated with leadership that is goal-oriented for the benefit of society (example:duly-elected government officials; bureaucrats).The ultimate form of goal-oriented action is the bureaucracy. A bureaucracy is a large, rational organization, designed to perform tasks efficiently (Macionis 2012: 153).

Weber identified the following as features of a bureaucracy : •

Specialization: There exists a specialized division of labor. +(


• • • • •

Hierarchy of position:Jobs are structured from greater to lesser amounts of authority. Rules and regulations: Formal rules and regulations guide a bureaucracy’s operations. Technical competence: Bureaucratic workers are technically trained. Impersonality: Rules and regulations, not personal whim, govern the treatment of both clients and workers so that they are treated in the same way. Formal, written communications: There is a reliance on records and files.

Economy is the “social institution that organizes a society’s production, distribution, and consumption of goods and services” (Macionis 2012: 370). The economy has three sectors (Ibid: 372). The primary sector relies on raw materials from the natural environment. It is the most important sector in low-income nations. Examples are agriculture, fishing, and mining.

The secondary sector is the manufacturing sector which transforms raw materials into manufactured goods. This sector has a significant shareof the economy in low-, middle-, and high-income nations. Examples are automobile and clothing manufacturing. The tertiary sector produces services rather than goods. It is the dominant sector in low-, middle-, and high-income countries. Examples are call center services, sales, and teaching. Nonstate actors are organizations, groups, or networks that participate in international relations and global governance.They are deemed to have sufficient power and influence to advocate for and cause changes in international norms and development practices.They include civil society, nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) and international NGOs (INGOs), economic and social groups, including trade union organizations and transnational corporations, and the private sector. In practice, nonstate actors include, among others, community-based organizations, human rights association, universities and research institutes, and chambers of commerce. Civil society is “the population of groups formed for collective purpose primarily outside of the State and marketplace” (van Rooy 1998: 30). Education is the acquisition of knowledge, skills, values and beliefs. There are many competing ideas about education as an institution. For some, it is viewed as a socializing process while others view education as a status competition. Finally, education can also be seen as a system of legitimation, where it restructures entire populations, creating elites and redefining the rights and duties of its members (Meyer 1977). Mass education, or public education, is an example of how education can restructure entire populations and redefine the rights and obligations of citizens.

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Religion. Giddens and Duneier (2013) cite Durkheim’s definition of religion as involving a set of symbols that invoke feelings of reverence or awe, which are linked to rituals practiced by a community of believers. Activity 5. Matching

Directions: Draw a line to match the phrase that best represents the concepts. Civil Society

•

•

constraints that structure social, political, and economic interactions

Religion

•

•

goal-oriented leadership

Rational-legal authority

•

•

acquisition of knowledge, skills, values, and beliefs

Kinship

•

•

Education

•

•

A set of symbols linked to rituals practiced by a community of believers

Institution

•

•

Persons who extend duties and privileges to one another usually on the basis of consanguinity or blood relations

groups formed outside of the State and market that band together due to collective purpose and interests

Process Questions

1. What are the different kinds of institutions? 2. How do these institutions affect how we think and behave? Deepen Selected Materials

The selected articles in the Reader present important institutions in the Philippines and how it permeates our everyday lives. Mary Hollnsteiner examines “ utang na loob” (debt of gratitude) reciprocity that serves as a continuing economic mechanism up to today. The next readings provide insights into the workings of various institutions +* All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

such as family, religion, and civil society. Alfred McCoy identifies the elite families as a powerful socio-political institution in the Philippines and presents cases of political dynasties in the country. Frank Lynch examines the concept of folk Catholicism and how it makes us better Christians and Filipinos. Jose Cruz points out the lack of separation of church and state and how the social dynamics of faith challenges the legal and political restrictions in contemporary Philippines. Jose Magadia examines the transformations of political and social institutions and how these brought about new modes of relationship between the Philippine state and Filipino society after the EDSA People Power Revolt. The following are the guide questions and summary for each of the text that you can use in deepening the students’ understanding of institutions. Hollnsteiner: What is utang na loob reciprocity? On what occasions is it experienced? How have utang na loob practices changed along with the values and norms of Philippine society?

Hollnsteiner explores the norm of reciprocity, which refers to the principle of behavior wherein every service received, solicited or not, demands a return, the nature and proportion of which is determined by the relative statuses of the parties involved and the kind of exchange at issue. She classifies reciprocity into three types, namely, contractual reciprocity, quasi-contractual reciprocity, and utang na loob (debt of gratitude) reciprocity. The article then proceeds to discuss utang na loob reciprocity in the context of the family and outside of it, emphasizing that the concept of utang na loob in relation to family obligations is deeper than that used in nonfamilial relationships. It is also complementary rather than reciprocal, imposing on family members to help their closest relatives when the situation demands. In contrast to complementarity, utang na loob reciprocity is incurred in various ways such as when sending a relative’s or friend’s child through school, putting up a relative in one’s home, rendering professional services for free, giving a job, and so on. Occasions for reciprocation are festive events such as the fiesta and elections. Hollnsteiner argues that up to today, utang na loob reciprocity continues to be an important economic mechanism. Nevertheless, with modernization, it has found more dominance in the noneconomic favor -- doing practices among smaller social circles than in the wider economic order. McCoy:What factors gave rise to elite families as the most power sociopolitical institution in the Philippines? How does a political dynasty created and maintained?

McCoy’s article locates the importance of elite families as a socio-political institution in the Philippines. Historically, Filipinos have learned to rely on their families for social support, basic services, and protection because of the inability of government and the church to provide for these. This legitimized the role of kinship in politics which allowed local elite families to gain power and control over provinces and

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towns.A family name, therefore, is the most valuable asset in politics—Laurel in Batangas, Osmeña in Cebu, and Cojuangco in Tarlac to name a few. Two key elements have been attributed to the rise of powerful political families postindependence. The first is rent-seeking, in which the Philippine post-colonial state created an artificial advantage for entrepreneurs, often elite families, by restricting others from entering into the market. The second is the weakening of central government control over the provinces, which gave rise to the proliferation of arms and warlords. It then briefly presents cases of political dynasties in the country. Lynch: What is folk Catholicism? What are examples of folk-religious beliefs and practices? How does folk Catholicism make the Filipino more religious? In what ways does it make him/her a better Filipino?

Lynch introduces the notion of folk Catholicism to show how the Church and Philippine culture have adapted to each other. Key to its definition is the distinction between between official and nonofficial. Official Catholicism refers to doctrine, ritual, and administrative organization proposed, approved, or maintained as normative by officially designated authority. Unofficial Catholicism includes the tolerated, the disapproved, and the condemned. Folk Catholicism includes these three unofficial categories but only where the belief is popularly derived and used, and is sanctioned as traditional in the community where it is practiced. The practice of official religious beliefs and practices promotes community solidarity, but it is in the practice of folk-religious customs such as Santacruzan, pabasa, undras, coparenthood system, lamay, and padasal, which often operate independently of official supervision that the sense of community is most clearly cultivated. According to Lynch, folk Catholicism makes Filipino better Christians by making it easier for them to understand and accept the message of Christ. Folk-religious customs give faith a physical form and provided it the language and other symbols that are distinctly Filipino. And because folk Catholicism supports core Philippine values, it also makes those who practice it better Filipinos. Cruz: What examples of political events in the Philippines show religion to have contributed or played a significant role?

Cruz’s article points out the lack of separation between church and state and how the social dynamics of faith challenges the legal and political restrictions in contemporary Philippines. He posits that “religion shapes society, even while being shaped by it”(p.32). This blurs the line between socio-political and religious realities. Religion’s role in the political evolves, depending on the historical and social contexts. The article then offers several examples how religion’s role and impact in Philippine society constantly changes. It ends with a call for the Church to constantly reassess itself and its place in Philippine society and politics to remain significant in the process of nationbuilding.

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Magadia: How did societal organizations participate in the redemocratization process of the Philippines (post-1986)?What are the challenges of this expanded role? How can the Philippine state maintain these gains?

Magadia examines the transformations of political and social institutions in the Philippines post-martial law and how this affected their relationship. The study finds societal organizations to have been gaining influence beyond local policymaking, even at a very challenging context.New modes of state-society relations and an increasingly inclusive space for engagement have emerged consistent with the features of post-authoritarian regimes.Internally, societal organizations have gained technical capacities and confidence to engage the tate more effectively. To be able to maintain these gains, the following must be pursued: (1) institutionalize civil society participation in the formal political processes of the state; (2) establish stable institutions (such as elections and political parties) that correspond to democratic ideals;(3) rationalize government functions and structures, which implies curbing corruption and increasing capacities of its own human resources; and (4) achieve a balance between guardianship and enabler of autonomy as the primary role of the Philippine state. Transfer Activity 6. Observing Institutions

In the lesson’s final activity, students will write an essay as a result of their participant-observation of an activity associated with any of the various institutions in society. Students could,for example, attend a religious ritual, observe activities conducted by the city or municipal government, or observe a family gathering. In addition, they could gather more information by conducting interviews and analysis of written documents such as brochures and newsletters. Participant observation is a research method used widely in the social sciences in which “investigators systematically observe people while joining them in their routine activities” (Macionis 2012: 41).Eriksen (2001: 4) refers to participant observation as consistingof lengthy fieldwork in a particular social setting. A participant observer “tries to immerse oneself in the life of the locals and tries not to be noticed, so that they can carry on with their own lives as usual” (Eriksen 2001: 26).

However, in conducting fieldwork, one must be aware of the research participants’right to informed consent and right to privacy . In the former, it would be unethical not to inform the individuals, groups, or organizations about your project, as they must have the right to refuse to be observed. Moreover, researchers must ensure data confidentiality. When the findings are reported, the research participants must be rendered anonymous to protect their privacy. This is usually done by assigning pseudonyms.

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Directions

1. Choose one important institution in Philippine society that was discussed. 2. Conduct a participant-observation of the setting of the institution (for example, a marketplace), event (for example, a trade fair), or activities (for example, what the groups did from the start of the event up until it was finished). 3. Write an essay that describes how this institution works in terms of actors, rules governing the behavior of actors, goals of the institution, and what was done to attain these goals. 4. How important is this institution to society? Why? 5. Why do you think this institution persists to this day?

References 1. 2.

3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

10. 11. 12.

Ember, Carol R., Melvin Ember, and Peter N. Perigrine. 2011. Anthropology. Boston: Prentice Hall. Eriksen, Thomas Hylland (2001).Chapter 3.”Fieldwork and Its Interpretation.” Small Places, Large Issues: An Introduction to Social and Cultural Anthropology, 2nd Edition. London/Virginia: Pluto Press. 24-39. Giddens, Anthony and Mitchell Duneier (2013). Introduction to Sociology, 9thEdition. New York: W. W. Norton & Company. th Macionis, John (2012). Sociology, 14 Edition. Boston: Pearson. Marshall, Gordon (1998). A Dictionary of Sociology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Meyer, John (1977). “The Effects of Education as an Institution”, The American Journal of Sociology, 83(1), 55-77. North, Douglass (1991). “Institutions”. Journal of Economic Perspectives , 5(1), pp. 97-112. Shimizu, Hiromu 1991. “Filipino Children in Family and Society” in: Department of Sociologyand Anthropology (ed.) SA 21: Selected Readings . 106-125. Parreñas, Rhacel S. (2001). “Mothering from a Distance: Emotions, Gender and Intergenerational Relations inFilipino Transnational Families.”Feminist Studies, 27, pp. 361390. Service, Elman (1962). Primitive Social Organization: An Evolutionary Perspective. New York: Random House. Van Rooy, Alison (1998). Civil Society and the Aid Industry . London: Earthscan. Weber, Max (1961). Social Action and Its Types. In T. Parsons et al. (eds.), Theories of Society:Foundations of Modern Sociological Theory. New York: The Free Press. 173-179.

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CHAPTER 5 RANKING GROUPS IN SOCIETY I.

INTRODUCTION

Summary

This chapter explains the meaning of social stratification, social inequality, and poverty. It provides various explanations for the existence of social stratification— from looking at the functions it performs for the whole society to examining the accompanying social conflicts as it benefits only a few in society. It also introduces a micro-level analysis of social stratification that emphasizes the meanings attached to status symbols. An article by Herbert Gans then identifies the functions of poverty in society, while pointing out that while poverty is functional to society, there are ways to solve it. Within a country, there are categories of people distinguished by physical or cultural difference that a society sets apart and subordinates. The chapter thus examines gender and ethnic stratification and the issues of prejudice, discrimination, and marginalization of minorities in a given society. The work of Rudy Rodil shows how ethnic marginalization and social inequality unfolds in Philippine society. Rodil illustrates how the enactment of land registration and titling legislations as well as policies that facilitated the resettlement of farmers from Visayas and Luzon to Mindanao between the 1900s and 1960s contributed to the minoritization of Moro and indigenous communities. Since social stratification does not only involve people within a single country but is also a worldwide pattern, the discussion turns to global stratification, in which some nations are far more economically productive than others. The chapter examines two major explanations for global inequalities—Modernization Theory and Dependency Theory—and the solutions they offer for reducing the gaps between countries. Walden Bello’s article completes the discussion by pointing out the repercussions of globalization on poorer countries, particularly the devastating effects of free trade and monopolistic competition principles. Focus Question

How are people ranked according to power, wealth, and prestige in a given society and what are the consequences of this ranking?

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II.

CONTENT

Social and Political Stratification 1. Social Desirables 2. Social Mobility System i. Open (Class) ii. Closed (Caste) 3. Social Inequality i. Access to Social, Political, and Symbolic Capital ii. Gender Inequality iii. Ethnic Minorities iv. Other Minorities (e.g., persons with disabilities) v. Global Inequality (relationships between states and nonstate actors in the global community)

III.

STANDARD

Content Standard

The learners demonstrate an understanding of: 1. 2.

IV.

The social stratification as the ranking of individuals according to wealth, power, and prestige The social and political inequalities as features of societies and the global community


1. Examine stratification from the functionalist and conflict perspectives 2. Identify characteristics of the systems of stratification 3. Suggest ways to address global inequalities

V.

LESSON

Social and Political Stratification Explore Activity 1.Throwback Time

As the name of the activity suggests, this activity will allow students to revisit personal experiences by answering the following questions:

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1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

When was the last time you experienced “hunger” due to lack of provisions (e.g., money, resources) to buy food? What actions did you take to satisfy your hunger? Did you ask for help from anyone (e.g., family members, close friends) toaddress the concern? Why or why not? Did anyone extend help? Is there anyone to blame for the difficult situation you experienced?

Ask someone from your class to share his/her story using the questions as their guide. Process Questions

1. What did you feel while doing the activity above? 2. What were your thoughts upon hearing the experiences of your classmates? 3. What does this experience tell you about your socioeconomic status? The teacher will link the last question to the lesson proper on social stratification Before the teacher proceeds to the discusssion proper, it is but imperative to diagnose the students’ schema regarding the concepts on stratification. Activity 2.KWLHS Matrix

Let the students accomplish the first two columns of the following matrix. The three remaining columns will be answered after all the content and reading materials have been thoroughly discussed and examined. What I K now

What I Want to Know

What I Have Learned

How Did I Learn

And So What

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Firm up Key Concepts Social stratification is a system by which a society ranks categories of people in a hierarchy according to power, wealth, and prestige (Macionis 2012: 224). Power, wealth, and prestige are referred to as social desirables, or rewards of social positions of statuses. Wealth pertains to ownership or control of resource. Power is the ability to compel obedience or control a number of people. Prestige refers tosocial recognition and deference. People in different positions have different access to wealth, power, and prestige. These differences in society give rise to s ocial inequality.

Macionis (2012) points out that in certain societies, some people experience social mobility orthe change in position within the social hierarchy. Vertical mobility refers to the change from one status to another that is higher or lower. Individuals who rose from modest beginnings to fame and fortune experience upward mobility. Some people move downward because of business failures, unemployment, or illness. In contrast, horizontal mobility isthe change from one status to another that is roughly equivalent. This is the case when people switch from one job to another at about the same social level. There are two types of social stratification systems. Closed systems allow for little change in social position, while open systems, permit much more social mobility. Closed systems are called caste systems , and more open systems are called class systems.A caste system is social stratification based on ascription, or birth.India’s caste system and apartheid, or separation of the races in South Africa, are examples of a caste system. A class system, in contrast, issocial stratification based on both birth and individual achievement. The system is common in industrial societies. In some societies such as the United Kingdom and Japan, social stratification mixes caste and class (Macionis 2012: 228). Theories of social stratification A. Functionalist perspective

According to the structural-functional approach, social inequality exists because it plays a vital part in the continued existence of society. Kingsley Davis and Wilbert Moore (1945) argue that the more important a position is to society, the more rewards a society attaches to it.Rewarding important work with income, prestige, and power encourages people to do these jobs and to work better, longer, and harder. Macionis (2012: 231—233) summarizes the criticisms of Davis-Moore Theory as follows: •

How do we assess the importance of a particular occupation? Do rewards actually reflect the contribution someone makes to society? Do corporate ,(


•

•

executives, for example, deserve mega-salaries for their contributions to society? Living in a society that places so much emphasis on money, we tend to overestimate the importance of high-paying work. How does one see the value of work that is not oriented toward making money? It likewise ignores how social inequality may promote conflict and even outright revolution. This criticism leads us to the social-conflict approach...

B. Social conflict perspective Marxist social-conflict perspective

Social conflict analysis draws on the ideas of Karl Marx and Max Weber (Macionis 2012: 232–234). Rather than viewing social stratification as benefiting society as a whole, it emphasizes how it benefits some people and disadvantages others. According to Marx, social stratification is created and maintained by one group in order to protect and enhance its own economic interests. Since stratification is not essential in a classless society. As expected, the Marxist view is criticized for denying the Davis-Moore theory: that a system of unequal rewards is necessary to place talented people in the right jobs and to motivate them to work hard. Weberian social conflict perspective

Max Weber claimed that social stratification involves three distinct dimensions of inequality: class, social status or prestige, and power (Macionis 2012: 234–235). A public school teacher might exercise great power as a source of knowledge and wisdom in the community yet have little wealth or social prestige. Influenced by Weber’s ideas, sociologists use the term socioeconomic status (SES) to refer to a composite ranking based on various dimensions of social inequality, and not only on economic position or class as Marx argued. C. Symbolic Interactionist perspective

The symbolic-interaction approach, a micro-level analysis and influenced by the ideas of Weber, explains that we size up people by looking forclues to their social standing. We can know about a person’s position in society through status symbol, anything than can give an idea as to what stratum an individual belongs to. Among some groups, conspicuous consumption, orbuying and displaying products that make a “statement” about social class, happens. For Thorstein Veblen (1953, orig. 1899, cited in Macionis 2012: 235–236; 546) who introduced the concept, conspicuous consumption involves people buying expensive products not because they need them but to show off their wealth. ,) All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

Inequality

One important dimension of social stratification is income inequality. Poverty is a state in which resources, usually material but sometimes cultural, are lacking. Relative poverty isthe lack of resources of some people in relation to those who have more. Absolute poverty refers to a lack of resources that is life threatening (Macionis 2012: 257). Social ranking likewise involves gender and ethnicity. Minority refers to any category of people distinguished by physical or cultural difference that a society sets apart and subordinates (Macionis 2012: 303). In societies that give more power and other resources to men than to women, gender is an important dimension of social stratification (Macionis 2012: 299). Gender is the meaning a culture attaches to being female or male (see Chapter 3). Gender stratification is the unequal distribution of wealth, power, and privilege between men and women. Often, as a result, women increasingly join the ranks of the poor, giving rise to a phenomenon referred to as the feminization of poverty. Ethnicity is a shared cultural heritage based on common ancestry, language, or religion that gives a group people a distinctive social identity (Macionis 2012: 320). People of a particular ethnicity can be a target of prejudice, just like those of a particular social class, sex, sexual orientation, age, political affiliation, or physical disability. Prejudice isa rigid and unfair generalization about a category of people. A related concept, discrimination, is the unequal treatment of various categories of people. Macionis (2012: 323–324) clarifies that prejudice refers to attitudes while discrimination involves actions. Both prejudice and discrimination can be either positive (favorable views, providing special advantages) or negative (unfavorable views, creating obstacles). Also, these biases may be built into the operation of society’s institutions such as schools, hospitals, the police, and the workplace. This is referred to as institutional prejudice and discrimination . Social reproduction of inequality

Sociologist Pierre Bourdieu (1990) points out that various linguistic and cultural competencies that some parents pass on to their children are capital. He highlights the importance of family background to one’s social status. Cultural capital refers to cultural advantages coming from a “good home.” Social capital refers to “features of social organization, such as networks, norms, and trust, that facilitate coordination and cooperation for mutual benefit” (Putnam 1993:35). Putnam argues the social capital embodied in norms and networks of civic engagement seems to be a precondition for economic development, as well as for effective government. Many studies ,* All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

have, however, documented how dynamics of social capital may result in social exclusion as nonmembers of an organization or networks may not have access to the resources otherwise available to members. Symbolic capital refers to the resources available to an individual on the basis of honor, prestige, or recognition. Graduating from a certain university, for example, may have symbolic capital in the context of looking for a job. Bourdieu (1984) points out that symbolic capital can co me from the possession and appropriation of objects with a perceived or concrete sense of value. For example, a watch worn by a Hollywood actress possesses symbolic capital because of the prestige of the one wearing it, which in turn distinguishes the person wearing it. Political capital refers to the goodwill that a politician or political policy can build up with the public through the pursuit of popular policies. This goodwill can be then be mobilized to achieve other objectives such as the passing of popular policies. un Activity 3.Stop, Look, Examine (Triad)

Instruct the students to form a group composed of three members. They will analyze key sociological perspectives onstratification by citing situation/condition where it overtly manifests. They will also give their reaction/s to it. Key Ideas

Manifestation/s

Reaction/s

Social inequality exists because it plays a vital part in the smooth operation of society.

Social stratification is created and maintained by one group in order to protect and enhance its own economic interests.

We size up people by looking for clues to their social standing.

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Process Questions

1. Is social and political stratification a must for a society to exist? Why or why not? 2. What is the difference between vertical and horizontal mobility? 3. How do wealth, power, and prestige affect the social stratum of an individual? 4. Is stratification exclusive within the parameters of economic dimensions? Prove your answer. 5. How does conflict perspective examine social stratification? 6. Among the sociological perspectives discussed, which do you think best explains why social and political stratification exists in society? Why? Firm up Global stratification and inequality

Social stratification involves not just people within a single country; it is also a worldwide pattern with some nations far more economically productive than others. One system of classifying countries is according to a Three Worlds Model : The “First World” is made up of rich, industrial, capitalist countries, while the “Second World” refers to less industrialized socialist countries. The nonindustrialized poor countries comprise the “Third World.” Macionis (2012) notes that in this model, the capitalist West (the First World) and the socialist East (the Second World) are against each other, while other nations (the Third World) remain more or less on the sidelines. Changes in Eastern Europe and the collapse of the former Soviet Union in the early 1990s meant the end of the “Second World,” and the usefulness of the three worlds model. The revised system of classification is not based on ideology or political structure but on the economic development of countries (United Nations Development Programme 2010 and the World Bank 2011, as cited in Macionis 2012: 271). High-income countries: The 72 high-income countries are those with the highest overall standards of living. These nations have a per capita gross domestic product (GDP) greater than $12,000. Middle-income countries: The 70 middle-income countries are those with a standard of living about average for the world as a whole. Their per capita GDP is less than $12,000 but greater than $2,500. Low-income countries: The remaining 53 low-income countries are those with a per capita GDP less than $2,500, and a low standard of living. Most people in these nations are poor.

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Theories of global stratification

There are two major explanations for inequality among nations: Modernization theory and Dependency theory (Macionis 2012: 280-281). 1. Modernization theory. Walt Rostow explains global inequality in terms of technological and cultural differences between nations. Nations become rich by developing advanced technology, a process that depends on a culture that encourages innovation and change toward higher living standards. Rostow identifies four stages of development: • Traditional stage: People’s lives are built around families and local communities (Example: Bangladesh) • Take-off stage: A market emerges as people produce goods not just for their own use but also to trade with others for profit. (Example: Thailand) • Drive to technological maturity: The ideas of economic growth and higher living standards gain widespread support (Example: Mexico) • High mass consumption: Advanced technology fuels mass production and mass consumption as people now “need” countless goods. (Example: the United States of America) How to address global inequalities? Rostow’s modernization theory highlights the role of technology transfer and foreign aid. Accordingly, rich nations can help poor nations by providing technology to control population size, increase food production, and expand industrial output and by providing foreign aid to support economic development.

2. Dependency theory. This views global inequality as a result of the historical exploitation of poor nations by rich ones. It maintains that colonialism created global inequality beginning 500 years ago, giving rise to rich nations and underdeveloped poor nations. This process continues today in the form of neocolonialism, or the economic exploitation of poor nations by multinational corporations. Immanuel Wallerstein’s model of the capitalist world economy identified three categories of nations: • Core: the world’s high-income countries, which are home to multinational corporations • Semiperiphery: the world’s middle-income countries, with ties to core nations • Periphery: the world’s low-income countries, which provide cheap labor and raw materials, and a vast market for industrial products How to address global inequalities? The dependency theory claims that three factors, namely export-orientation, a lack of industrial capacity, and foreign debt, make poor countries dependent on rich nations and prevent their economic development. , All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

Andre Gunder Frank’s dependency theory argues that countries in the Periphery must cut the “umbilical cord” that connects them to the Center, if they were to become developed countries themselves. Activity 4.MoDe Diagram

After examining Modernization and Dependency theories, let the students enumerate (based on their understanding) the differences between the two theories in terms of their solutions to global inequality. Below the diagram is a box where students will write three or more solutions/programs that address global poverty.

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Deepen

Material:Gans, Herbert. 1991. “The Uses of Poverty,” Down to Earth Sociology, J. Henslin (ed.). New York: The Free Press. pp. 327–333 Guide Questions

1. What are the economic, cultural, and political functions of the poor? 2. What could be the functional alternatives to poverty and how can these eliminate poverty? Summary

Although an analysis of poverty in American society, this article offers insights into the poverty in Philippine society. Gans shows that the continued existence of the poor in society is due to the fact that they perform vital services (functions) for society. Functionalism, one of the theoretical approaches in Sociology maintains that conditions persist in society only if they benefit or perform functions for society or some of its parts. Gans then identifies those functions and categorized them into economic, sociocultural, and political functions. In the first set, poverty makes possible the existence of a number of respectable professions and occupations; ensures that society’s “dirty work” will be done; subsidizes a variety of economic activities that benefit the affluent; and prolongs the economic usefulness of goods. The sociocultural functions performed by the poor include: being identified and punished as alleged or real deviants in order to uphold the legitimacy of conventional norms; offering vicarious participation to the rest of the population in the uninhibited sexual, alcoholic,narcotic, and other behaviors which the poor are thought to indulge in; creating culture that would later be adopted by the more affluent; guaranteeing the status of those who are not poor; aiding the upward mobility of groupsjust above them in the class hierarchy; and keeping the aristocracy busy, thus justifying its continued existence. Finally, the poor perform the following political functions: absorbing the costs of change and growth in society; facilitating and stabilizing the political process; and by upholding conventional norms, support certain ideologies or policies. Gans, however, points out that while poverty is often functional, it has many more dysfunctions than functions. Thus, he ends the article with some functional alternatives such as paying “dirty workers” decent wages. The challenge remains: the elimination of poverty through functional alternatives would generate dysfunctions for the affluent or powerful. Poverty can, therefore, be eliminated only when it become dysfunctional for the affluent or powerful, or when the powerless obtain enough power to change society. Material:Rodil, Rudy B. 2004. The Minoritization of Indigenous Communities in Mindanao and the Sulu Archipelago . Davao City: Alternate Forum for Research in Mindanao

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Guide questions

1. Who are the minority peoples in the Philippines? 2. How were indigenous communities minoritized and marginalized in Mindanao and Sulu? 3.

In what ways do national government policies contribute to the marginalization of minority populations?

Summary

Muslim (Moro) and indigenous peoples (lumad) comprise the majority of the population in Mindanao in the years before the American colonial government imposed its rule over the Philippines.Communities associated with both groups settled and moved freely across the vastness of the region. People occupied and cultivated lands based on temporary distribution and usage arrangements under the stewardship of highly respected community leaders. That traditional pattern of population settlement and distribution, however, shifted after the colonial government issued a public land registration and titling policies in the early 1900s. These land laws required all the residents of the Philippine islands, including Muslims and indigenous people, to register and then apply for the titling of the lands that they and their ancestors had occupied since time immemorial. In justifying the disenfranchisement of native communities, the American government argued that all lands across the Philippine archipelago belonged to the Spanish crown from the time of conquest but were effectively transferred to US sovereign control on the basis of the 1898 Treaty of Paris. Communities that were not accustomed to or had opposed the imposition of colonial system of land registry and titles failed to register or seek title for the land. As a consequence, the native communities were no longer considered legitimate stewards of their own lands. On the strength of US-enacted laws, persons and families who are not native to Mindanao managed to own tracts of land including those occupied by Muslim communities and indigenous peoples. The problem was further complicated when the American colonial government and a succession of administrations under an independent Philippine government pursued a series of Mindanao land resettlement programs for landless farmers from the Visayas and Luzon. The programs spurred massive migration into Mindanao and the acquisition of new land titles that were already occupied by Moro and lumad. The scale of migration was quite vast that it altered population patterns in the region.By the 1980s, farmers with roots in Luzon and the Visayas outnumbered the population of Muslims and indigenous peoples. As a result, the settler population became the majority while Muslims and indigenous peoples were minoritized and then marginalized.

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Activity 5. Simulating Marginalization

This activity places learners in a position to experience and reflect about the relationship between the privileged and marginalized groups of people in a society. To accomplish this, teachers may initiate the following: 1. Organize the class into majority and minority groups, then set them out into a quiz bee based on questions taken from “The Minoritization of Indigenous Communities in Mindanao and the Sulu Archipelago” reading. 2. The teachers may prepare at least ten sets of questions from the reading and directly ask both groups about them. The teachers, however, should stack the rules of the game against the minority group to ensure that the majority wins. 3. To stack the game unfairly, 60 percent of the total number of learners in the class should be designated as the majority,with 40 percent as the minority. 4. To further make the game unfair, teachers may instruct learners in the minority group to prepare themselves a mouth cover, which they should take to class. 5. Before commencing the quiz bee, the teacher should instruct the minority group to wear their mouth covers and restrict them from speaking unless granted permission. 6. During the question-and-answer activity, the teachers should allow the majority group to open their notes and read, but restrict the minority from doing so. 7. In fielding the questions, the teachers may call the majority most of the time and the minority the least of the time. 8. The teachers should also let the majority talk freely to explain and argue their answers but only allow the minority to do so if they raise their hands and ask permission. The teacher smay ignore the minority’s raised hands most of the time. 9. The majority should win the game and earn the most correct answers to the ten questions asked. 10. After declaring the members of the majority group as the winner, ask the learners to settle down and listen to the processing of the activity very carefully. Explain the game using the questions in the process questions. Process Questions

1. How did the majority and the minority feel after realizing that the game favored or was stacked against them? 2. Did anyone feel that the game was rigged and unfair? Explain why. 3. Did anyone in the game feel the need to break the rules of the game sometime during the quiz bee? Explain. 4. Did anyone stop participating when he/she felt that the game was unfair? Explain. 5. How did this game apply to the situation that Rodil described in the reading? 6. Who are the people represented by those with themouth cover and those without in the context of Mindanao and the Sulu Archipelago? -' All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

7. Who are the marginalized people in your community? How were they marginalized? 8. Discuss what can be done to end the marginalization of indigenous communities and the Morosand lumad of Mindanao. Material: Bello, Walden. 2005. “Multilateral Punishment: The Philippines in the WTO (1995–2003),” The Anti-Development State: The Political Economy of Permanent Crisis in the Philippines. Quezon City: UP Diliman Press.131–187 Guide Questions

1. What is trade liberation and how does it affect economies of developing countries such as the Philippines? 2. Is it possible to achieve a market that is fair to both big and small players? 3. What can the Philippines do to help our farmers and local producers? Summary

Walden Bello discusses the repercussions of globalization on the Philippine agricultural sector, particularly the devastating effects of free trade and monopolistic competition principles lodged in the GATT-WTO (General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade-World Trade Organization). His work analyzes the impact of the Philippines’ participation in the WTO beginning in 1995 when it officially became a member.His study reveals that the country derives no benefits and instead incurs tremendous costs most especially the agriculture sector that produces rice, corn, and vegetables, and raises poultry. It has displaced a significant number of producers and farmers with the unrestricted imports of similar agricultural produce with a much lower price. Ironically, trading powers such as the United States, the European Union, and Australia have restricted the entry of Philippine products such as tuna and bananas to protect their own producers.The study critiques the neoliberal assumption that trade liberalization, rather than aggressive state support, will improve the Philippine agriculture sector. Activity 6. Fact or Fiction

Based on the article, “The Uses of Poverty,” identify if each “function” presented in the first column is applicable in the context of Filipino society. Write Fact if it is applicable and Fiction if it is not on the second column. Substantiate your answer by providing evidences on the third column. The first item serves as an example. Function of Poverty

1. Ensures that “dirty work” will be done

Fact or Fiction

Proof

Household helpers, construction workers, and other menial jobs are provided by the poor members of the Philippine society

Fact

-( All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

Function of Poverty

Fact or Fiction

Proof

2. Subsidizes a variety of economic activities that benefit the affluent 3. Creates jobs for a number of professions 4. Prolongs the economic usefulness of goods and services 5. Uphold the legitimacy of social norms 6. Offers vicarious participation to the rest of the population in the uninhibited sexual, alcoholic, and narcotic behavior 7. Creates“culture” for the affluent’s consumption 8. Guarantees the status of those who are not poor 9. Aids the upward mobility of groups above them 10. Helps keep the aristocracy busy 11. Absorbs the costs of change and growth in the society 12. Facilitates and stabilizes the political process Process Questions

1. Are all the functions of poverty enumerated by Herbert Gans applicable or relevant to the Philippine setting? If not, what could be the possible reason(s) for this? 2. Do you agree with Gans that poverty has its functions in any society? Why or why not? 3. What insights did you gain from the article?

-) All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

Activity 7.KWLHS Matrix

At this point, let the students answer the last three columns of the matrix. What I K now

What I Want to Know

What I Have Learned

How Did I Learn

And So What

Activity 8.Lesson Closure

Let the students complete the following statement that would summarize their “essential understanding” of social and political stratification. 1. Knowing the various sociological perspectives in examining stratification, I learned that___________________________________________________ 2. Learning the dynamics of social and political stratification, Irealized that ______________________________________________________________ 3. Stratification is not a simple social construct, thus ______________________________________________________________ 4. It is important to learn social and political stratification because________________________________________________________

5. I will start ______________________________________________________ inorder to help alleviate poverty in the country.

-* All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

Transfer

The students will make a case study on the extent of poverty in their own community or a community within their barangay. Possible topics include but are not limited to: 1. Malnourishment 2. Informal settlers 3. Unemployment 4. Out-of-school children/ youth 5. Hunger Information should come from the local government unit’s records, interviews with local leaders and residents, and other vital sources. Case Study Format

I.

II. III. IV.

Brief introduction (information such as location and population of the community, leadership and governance structures in the community, availability of public services) Presentation and analysis of the problem and its possible solutions Conclusion Insights/Realizations

Students will be rated using the following rubric. 4

3

Identification of the Main Issues/ Problems

Identifies & understands all of the main issues in the case study

Identifies and understands most of the main issues in the case study

Identifies and understands some of the issues in the case study

Identifies and understands few of the issues in case study

Analysis of the Issues

Insightful and thorough analysis of all the issues

Thorough analysis of most of the issues

Superficial analysis of some of the issues in the case

Incomplete analysis of the issues

Superficial and/or inappropriate solutions to some of the issues in the case study

Little or no action suggested, and/or inappropriate solutions to all of the issues in the case study

Well Appropriate, documented, well thought reasoned and out comments Comments pedagogically about on effective appropriate solutions, or solutions/stra comments on proposals for tegies solutions, or solutions, to proposals for most of the solutions, to all issues in the

2

1

-+ All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

Links to Course Readings and Additional Research

4 issues in the case study Excellent research into the issues with clearly documented links to class (and/or outside) readings

3 case study

Good research and documented links to the material read

2

Limited research and documented links to any readings

1

Limited research and documented links to any readings

http://www.winona.edu/air/resourcelinks/group%20case%20study.doc

References 1.

Bourdieu, Pierre. 1990. “Artistic Taste and Cultural Capital.” In Culture and Society: Contemporary Debates. Jeffrey Alexander and Steven Seidman (eds.). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.205 – 215.

2.

Bourdieu, Pierre. 1984. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University P ress.

3.

Macionis, John. 2012. Sociology, 14th edition. Boston: Pearson.

4.

Putnam, Robert. 1993.“The Prosperous Community: Social Capital and Public Life.”The American Prospect 13. 35-42

-, All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

CHAPTER 6 MAKING SOCIETY BETTER I.

INTRODUCTION

The final chapter focuses on cultural, social, and political change, or the transformations of cultural, social and political institutions over time. There are many causes of social change—when something is discovered, created, and diffused, during times of conflict caused by inequalities and differences in ideas, when characteristics of population alter, and when modernization is experienced by society. The first set of readings offered in this chapter present these various reasons why change occurs. George Ritzer’s notion of the McDonaldization of society, which emphasizes predictability, efficiency, calculability, and substitution of human labor by machines, epitomizes some of these changes. Randolf David examines education, market, mass media, overseas work, law, and culture as some of the crucial sites and signs of modernity in Philippine society. The next three readings then address two major challenges to human adaptation and social change: global warming and climate change, and transnational migration and Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs). Garrett Hardin explains how the “tragedy of the commons,” which relates to ecological problems, results from individuals’ maximization of self-interests. F. Landa Jocano explains cultural differences and culture shock experienced by Filipino domestic helpers abroad. Rhacel Parreñas further provides details on the consequences of the feminization of international labor migration by highlighting how Filipina labor migration results to the formation of the transnational household and family. How can we respond to these changes? Two readings explore the politics outside and beyond the institutions of the political system of the nation-state. Charles Tilly and Sidney Tarrow discuss the idea of “contentious politics” that brings together power, shared interests, and government policy. They present various ways of understanding what social movement is, how it starts, and how it is sustained. In the final reading, W. Lance Bennett presents the paradox of “large-scale individualized collective action” enabled by social media that challenges group-based political participation. Focus Question:

1. Why do societies change? 2. How does society cope with change? 3. How can we respond to these changes?

- All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying – without written permission from the DepEd Central Office. First Edition, 2016

II.

CONTENT

Cultural, Social and Political Change A. Sources of social, cultural, and political change

1. 2. 3. 4.

Innovation Diffusion Acculturation and assimilation Social contradictions and tensions (e.g., interethnic conflicts, class struggle, armed conflict, terrorism, protests, gender issues)

B. New challenges to human adaptation and social change

1. Global warming and climate change 2. Transnational migration and Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) C. Responding to social, political, and cultural change

1. Inclusive citizenship and participatory governance 2. New forms of media and social networking 3. Social movements

III.

STANDARDS

Content Standards

This chapter interrogates agents/ institutions, processes, and outcomes of cultural, political, and social change. Performance Standards

At the end of the chapter, the learner is expected to: 1. Evaluate factors causing social, political, and cultural change. 2. Advocate how human societies should adapt to such changes.

IV.


At the end of the chapter, the learner is expected to: 1. Identify new challenges faced by human populations in contemporary

societies. 2. Describe how human societies adapt to new challenges in the physical, social, and cultural environment. 3. Develop a plan of action for community-based response to change.

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V.

LESSON

Explore Activity1. My Amazing Life

This activity will allow the students to realize that change starts within them. Ask the students to fill out the organizer below with information about them and the big changes in their lives.

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Process Questions:

1. What is the most significant event in your life? Why is this most important to you? 2. How do you relate to this quotation “Nothing is permanent in this world except change?" Give concrete examples. 3. Why do some people oppose or resist change? Activity 2. Decode And Link It!

Let your student unlock the important words place on the left part of the table below. Use the legend in unlocking the terms. After unlocking the words let your students answer the first column (L – list everything you know) Legend:

A

B

C

D

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

Q

R

S

T

U

V

W

X

Y

Z

%.&


o w d o n ? t a k w K h u o n W o y e e r a a k t e o s e t N w t o g n w i n o o N g t u w o u o n b a o y k o I e r t a t i u h t q w n n a I w g w n o i t h n s t k L i r L y e u o v e y

103


Firm-Up What is Social Change?

Social change is the “transformation of culture and social institutions over time ” (Macionis 2012: 565). Characteristics of social change (ibid.)

The process of social change has four major characteristics: 1. Social change happens all the time.Everything in our social world are subject to change, although some societies change faster than others. As Macionis points out, hunting and gathering societies change quite slowly, whereas members of today’s high-income societies experience significant change within a single lifetime. Some elements of culture alsochange faster than others. Macionis thus cites William Ogburn’s theory of cultural lag, which states that material culture (things) usually changes faster than nonmaterial culture (ideas and attitudes). For instance, advances in genetic technology have developed more rapidly than ethical standards on the use of the technology. 2. Social change is sometimes intentional but is often unplanned. Today’s highincome societies generate many kinds of change. Yet, it would be impossible to envision all the consequences of the changes that are set in motion. For example, telephones (invented in 1876) have taken on different forms and uses over time. 3. Social change is controversial. Social change brings both good and bad consequences, and thus could be welcomed by some and opposed by others. Karl Marx and Max Weber have chronicled the transformations brought about by the Industrial Revolution. The capitalists welcomed the Industrial Revolution because new technology meant increased productivity and profits. However, workers opposed it as they suffered alienation and the dehumanization brought about by newer techniques and social relations of production. 4. Some changes matter more than others.Some changes such as fashion fads only have passing significance, while others such as major medical discoveries and inventions may change the world.

%.(


Causes of social change

Social change has many causes. A. Culture and change There are three important sources of cultural change (Macionis 2012: 565 – 566). First is invention, or the creation of something new by usually by putting things together. Inventions can range from the seemingly complex technological objects such as the spacecraft or even the lightbulb to the seemingly simple such as kitchen gadgets (like can openers). Second is discovery, or finding something that has existed but previously not known. Chapter 2 provides various examples of the discovery of material and fossil remains of prehistoric societies that changed our understanding of biophysical and cultural evolution. Third is diffusion, or the spread of cultural attributes from one culture to another through contact between different cultural groups. Change happens as products, people, and information spread from one society to another.An example of cultural change is the wide variety of cuisine from other lands that is made available to us. Fast-food courts and restaurants in major Philippine cities offer food from around the country and the world that is usually not part of a person’s everyday meal. Filipino overseas workers have also been known to introduce balut and other Filipino foods to their host societies. Another example is the evolving ideals of beauty as people come in greater contactwith others. B. Conflict and change Inequality and conflict in a society also produce change. Karl Marx foresaw that “social conflict arising from inequality (involving not just class but also race and gender) would force changes in every society to improve the lives of working people” (Macionis 2012: 566). In the Philippines, the rising inequalities and human rights violations during the Martial Law period caused mass uprisings that culminated in the 198 6 People Power Revolt. The Philippines was considered to be the first in the world to have challenged authoritarian rule through a non-violent process.

C. Ideas and change Weber, like Marx, also saw that conflict could bring about change. However, he traced the roots of most social change to ideas (Macionis 2012: 566). For example, charismatic people such as Mahatma Gandhi or Jose Rizal had political ideas that change society.

%.)


D. Demographic change Population patterns such as population growth, shifts in the composition of a population, or migration also play a part in social change (Macionis 2012: 566). An increasing population may encourage the development of new products and services, but it can also have ecological and social implications such the conversion of more agricultural land to residential subdivisions. In other societies, lower fertility rates (women are having fewer children), an aging population, and the influx of migrants from other societies are changing many aspects of social life. Modernity

A central concept in the study of social change is modernity. Modernity refers to social patterns resulting from industrialization. These social patterns were set in motion by the Industrial Revolution, which began in Western Europe in the 1750s (Macionis 2012: 566). Related to the discussion of modernity is modernization, or the process of social change begun by industrialization (Ibid). For Emile Durkheim, modernization is defined by an increasing division of labor. The division of labor refers to the degree to which tasks or responsibilities are specialized. Durkheim defines a society according to type of solidarity. Mechanical solidarity is based on shared activities and beliefs while organic solidarity is characterized by specialization makes people interdependent. As societies become industrialized, mechanical solidarity is gradually replaced by organic solidarity. (Macionis 2012: 569). For Weber, modernity meant replacing a traditional worldview with a rational way of thinking characterized by goal-oriented calculation and efficiency. He focused on the dehumanizing effects of modern rational organization, especially the bureaucracy which is the ultimate form of rationalization (Macionis 2012: 569 – 570). Marx saw modernity as the triumph of capitalism over feudalism. Capitalism creates social conflict, which Marx claimed would bring about revolutionary change leading to an egalitarian socialist society (Macionis 2012: 569 – 570) George Ritzer introduces the concept of McDonaldization of society while Randolf David explores the Philippine experience of modernity. New challenges to human adaptation and social change

1. Global warming and climate change: Discuss Garrett Hardin’s Tragedy of the commons. 2. Transnational migration and Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs): Discuss F. Landa Jocano’s “Culture Shock” and Rhacel Parreñas’s, “Mothering from a Distance”.

%.*


Responding to social, political, and cultural change

1. Inclusive citizenship and participatory governance 2. New forms of media and social networking 3. Social movements (e.g., environmentalism, feminism, religious fundamentalism) Activity 3:Pic-Graphic Organizer

This activity will allow students to think of the different characteristics and causes of social change. Instruct them to use the clue pictures as guide to complete the organizer.

SOCIAL CHANGE

The transformation of culture and social institution over time

Characteristics

Causes

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

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Process Questions:

1. Which among the characteristics of social change can be seen mostly in our society? 2. Which among the causes of social change is prevalent in the Philippine setting? 3. In your own perception, give one characteristic and cause of social change. Explain and provide examples. Activity 4:Chain of Changes

This activity will allow students to identify things around them that undergo change or modernity. Let them specify in the lines below the objects, things, and events that undergo change. Use the chain to describe the process of change that took place. 1.

_________________________

2.

_________________________

3.

_________________________

Process Questions

1. Why does change happen? 2. What will happen to our society if it will not undergo modernity? 3. What are the positive and negative effects of our changing society?

%.,


Activity 5: Train of Implications: Dimensions of Modernization

This activity will serve as basis for students understanding of the important concepts of modernization. Let your students analyze the implications of the modernization on culture, society, and politics. Answers will be written below the balloons that specify the dimensions of modernization according to Peter Berger (1977).

The decline of small, traditional communities

The expansion of personal choice

Increasing social diversity

Orientation toward the future and a growing awareness of time

Process Questions:

1. 2. 3. 4.

How does the community experience the decline of tradition? How do you experience the expansion of choices? What are signs of increasing social diversity? What are your plans for the future? Do you consider yourself modern based on these plans?

Deepen

There are several articles in the Reader that are useful to deepen the initial concepts presented. Material: Ritzer, George.(1993). “Chapter 1. The McDonaldization of Society.” The McDonaldization of Society. California: Pine Forge Press. pp. 1 – 17 Guide questions:

1. What are the features of an increasingly rational society, one that is driven by means-end calculation? 2. What are the dangers of an increasingly rational world, and how can we cope with it?

%.-


Ritzer argues that the rationalization of modern society’s bureaucracy and the economy have been employed by the fast-food restaurant (such as McDonald’s). These are also being applied in increasingly numerous and diverse social settings and products such as newspapers, hospitals, and schools, among others. These principles are: efficiency, quantifiability and calculability, predictability, replacement of human technology with nonhuman technology, and control. Ritzer makes use of sociologist Max Weber’s work on the rationalization of modern society that emphasizes formal rationality (or means-ends calculation). Just as Weber pointed out the irrationality of rationality in the bureaucracy and the economy, Ritzerexhorts us to extract the best of what the McDonaldized world has to offer without succumbing to its dangers and excesses. He suggests ways to cope with the increasing irrationality of rationality: by developing personal ties wherever we may be. Activity6: Race to Change

This activity will identify the new challenges faced by human populations in modern society.The students will enumerate the changes and how they adapt to new challenges that are generally faced by the human population as enumerated below. !=17<0;B

Food and industry

Education

Home and family

Shopping and entertainment

Employment

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C81A:1:547B

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Process Questions

1. 2. 3. 4.

How did modernity started in the food business? Why do some people can easily adapt to change? Which among these changesdo people find difficult to adapt? How can you be rational in everything you do?

Material: David, Randolf. 2002. “Modernity and the Filipino,” Nation, Self, and Citizenship: An Invitation to Philippine Sociology . Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press. pp. 347 – 357 Guide Question:

What are the signs of modernity the Philippines? A central concept in the study of social change, modernity refers to social patterns resulting from industrialization. For David, to be modern—to feel at home in a rapidly changing world—immediately brings to mind the overseas Filipino worker. However, he also points out that we do not need to go away to experience modernity. David examines education, market, mass media, overseas work, law and culture, and politics as some of the crucial sites and signs of modernity in Philippine society. For example, as the most important workshop of modernity, the school rescues children from the vicious cycle of poverty. In particular, new entrepreneurs of learning produced skilled technicians for the digital age, and schools such as AMA ad STI have democratized access to tertiary education. In another example, David cites the presence of malls and Filipino fast food chains adopting the American way but improving on what has been adopted as a sign that Filipinos are a modern people. He concludes that to be modern is to leap into a world that is changing, creating new meanings while remaining firmly rooted to humanity and to one own’s society and culture. Activity 7: Shapes of Modernization

This activity will measure on different generations experience and define modernity in the Philippines. Students will ask their parents or grandparents to share their experiences of the following signs of modernity (as indicated in the shapes). On a separate sheet, students will also fill up the shapes based on their experiences. Then, they will assess the similarities and differences.

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Signs of Modernity in the Society

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Process Questions:

1. How is modernity experienced by different generations? 2. What are the similarities and differences? What could be the reason for such variation? Material: Hardin, Garrett. 1968. “The Tragedy of the Commons.” Science. 162: 1243– 1248 Guide Questions:

1. What are examples of common own resources? 2. What brings about the tragedy of the commons? 3. What are the ways of avoiding mismanagement and abuse of the commons? Hardin points out that there are problems that do not have a technical solution. A technical solution is defined as one that requires a change only in the techniques of the natural sciences, demanding little or nothing in the way of change in human values or ideas of morality. No technical solution problems include the management of common-pool resources. Using the case of a common pasture, Hardin argues that resources held in common are doomed to destruction because people instinctively

%%&


pursue their own best interests. The pursuit of self-interest brings about the tragedy of the commons. People view it as their right to use the parks, to throw their wastes, and to have as many children as they see fit, without consideration for other people. To pursue sustainability, society must discourage selfish acts; thus, there is a need to foster responsibility. The social arrangements that produce responsibility are arrangements that create coercion, the most preferred of which is mutual coercion. Mutually agreed upon coercion practices include payment of user’s fees and taxes. For Hardin, however, an increase in human population necessitates the abandonment of the commons. The only way to preserve and nurture other freedoms is by relinquishing the freedom to breed, and by doing so, put an end to the tragedy of the commons. Activity 8: Table Completion

This will measure the ability of our students to think rationally by answering the table below.The students will fill out the needed information in the chart below. Tragedy of Commons

Problems

Solutions

Programs

Effect

1. Pollution 2. Fertility Decisions 3. Use of Public Spaces

Process Questions: 1. Based on the readings, who are the commons? 2. How you will describe the commons based on the author’s perspective? 3. Do you believe that the problems listed above have no technical solution? Explain your answer.

Material: F. LandaJocano. 1994. “Culture Shock: The Case of Filipina Domestic Helpers in Singapore and Hong Kong”. Solidarity.No. 143–144. pp. 61–66 Guide Questions:

1. How do differences in cultures lead to difficulties and problems for many Filipino migrant workers? 2. How can these difficulties and problems be addressed?

%%'


Reports of incidents of “mental disorders,”“emotional stress,”“suicides,” and many other forms of difficulties suffered by Filipino domestics in faraway places often make headline news. In this analysis of the experiences of domestic helpers in Singapore and Hong Kong, Jocano offers another explanation for these difficulties: culture shock. Many Filipinas working as domestic helpers in Singapore and Hong Kong experience culture shock, or a form of anxiety that results from an inability to predict the behavior of others or act appropriately in a cross-cultural situation. This anxiety arises because of differences in cultural ways of thinking, believing, feeling, and acting that characterize the orientations of people in different cultures. Jocano points out that the Philippines has had a history of international labor migration, as its people have long searched for greener pastures, but in the 1980s and the decades that followed, the labor migration pattern became associated with women workers, which include women domestic helpers. Jocano identifies six areas where culture “shock” is most prominent: language, food, loneliness, jealousy, sexual abuse, and cultural practices. In conclusion, Jocano highlights that although the Philippines, Hong Kong, and Singapore are the same Asiatic cultures, the nuances of each country’s cultural orientation vary. There is, therefore, a need for greater cross-cultural understanding among Filipinos. Activity 9: Character Reference

This activity intends to summarize the circumstances experienced by Filipino migrant workers. Using the article by LandaJocano, provide information that corresponds to the situation of OFWs. ?@2 K:0G62A7 2C109C32:2F G4 =L]7Z

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Process Question:

1. 2. 3. 4.

What is culture shock? Why do OFW’s suffer from culture shock? Why is the Filipino woman often the victim of culture shock? What are the government programs that deal with problems of Filipino domestic helpers?

Material: Parreñas, Rhacel S. (2001). “Mothering from a Distance: Emotions, Gender and Intergenerational Relations in Filipino Transnational Families.” Feminist Studies, 27, pp. 361 – 390 Guide Questions

1. What are transnational families? 2. What are the emotional consequences of geographical distance in femaleheaded transnational families? How do mothers and children cope with them? 3. How can society help female-headed transnational families manage the consequences of mothering from a distance? As one of the largest sources of independent female labor migrants in the world, the Philippines has seen a growing number of female-headed transnational families. These families are households with core members living in at least two nation-states and in which the mother works in another country while some or all of her dependents reside in the Philippines. Accompanying this phenomenon, therefore, is the increasing number of Filipino-women migrants who are mothering their children from a distance. Parreñas identifies the emotional strains of transnational mothering that include feelings of anxiety, helplessness, loss, guilt, and the burden of loneliness. Mothers negotiate these emotional strains in three ways: the commodification of love, the repression of emotional strains, and the rationalization of distance through communication to ease distance. Children also bear the emotional costs of geographical distance with feelings of loneliness, insecurity, and vulnerability, as they crave greater intimacy with their migrant parents. These sufferings resultin g at least three central conflicts plaguing intergenerational relationships between migrant mothers and the children whom they have left behind in the Philippines. First, children disagree with their mothers that commodities are sufficient markers of love. Second, they do not believe that their mothers recognize the sacrifices that children have made toward the successful maintenance of the family. Third and last, although they appreciate the efforts of migrant mothers to show affection and care, they still question the extent of their efforts. In conclusion, the article points out that these feelings of pain in transnational families are intensified by the failure in a great number of families to meet the gender-based expectations of children for mothers (and not fathers) to nurture them, and also the self-imposed expectations of mothers

%%)


to follow culturally and ideologically inscribed duties in the family.Traditional attitudes in the family identify the man as the provider and the woman as the nurturer. The persistence of these role expectations poses an additional burden on migrant mothers. Not only are they expected to work abroad as wage earners but they must also remain parents, even from such distance. To help transnational families cope, the general public should support the “reconstitution of mothering” led by numerous female migrants toward the acceptance of multiple forms of family life. Activity 10: Five Thinking Hats

This activity will provide an opportunity for students to think critically by providing answers in the chart below. What are transnational families?

Why are they called transnational families?

How does a transnational family cope with the pain of separation and mothering from a distance?

What are the advantages of transnational families?

What are the fears of transnational families?

Material: Tilly, Charles and Sidney Tarrow, S. 2015. “Making Claims in Contentious Politics,”New York: Oxford University Press.pp. 3–22 Guide Questions

1. What is contentious politics? 2. What are examples of its manifestations? 3. What factors affect contentious politics?

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Tilly and Tarrow discuss the concept of ‘contentious politics’ as the nexus among contention, collective action, and politics - as familiar features of social life.It involves the “interactions in which actors make claims bearing on other actors’ interests, leading to coordinated efforts on behalf of shared interests or programs, in which governments are involved as targets, initiators of claims, or third parties” (p. 7). In other words, contentious politics brings together power, shared interests and government policy. At the heart of contentious politics is the notion of collective claim-making, by political actors with unique political identities and histories, through varying performance strategies ranging from presentation of petition to street demonstrations, the use of social media of other emerging forms such as the “Occupy” movement. Contentious politics is affected by the kind of political opportunity structures available brought about by either periods of rapid or incremental political change.

Activity 11: Table Completion

This activity will measure students’ capability to analyze situations where they can relate to the topics below.Let the student identify situations / examples of contention, collective action, and politics. Where do these occur? Examples/ Situations

Place of Occurrence

Contention Collective Action Politics Contentious Politics Process Question :

1. What are the similarities and differences between contention, collective action, and politics? 2. How do contentious politics affect our lives? Material: Tilly, Charles and Sidney Tarrow, S. 2015.“Social Movements,”New York: Oxford University Press.145–167 Guide Questions

1. What is social movement? 2. What are the important elements of social movements? 3. What are the possible paths a social movement will most likely to follow after the campaigns have subsided?

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Social movement is “a sustained campaign of claim making, using repeated performances that advertise the claim, based on organizations, networks, traditions and solidarities that sustain these activities” (pp. 11). There are two distinct but interrelated aspects of social movement—a social movement base, which tells us when social movement is possible, and a social movement campaign, which signifies that claimmaking is in motion. Highly successful movements at times transform into a party, as in the case of Poland’s Solidarity, a base of industrial workers that successful challenged the authoritarian regime and ultimately became political party leaders. Besides contentious activities, social movements also engage in consensus mobilization within and outside institutions. Social movement impacts on various aspects of political and social life—from policy changes to effects brought about in the lives of activists.Beyond campaigns, however, social movements have been observed to follow four different trajectories—institutionalization, commercialization, involution, and radicalization. Activity 12. The Making of a Social Movement

This activity will measure the capability of the students to trace and analyze how social movements develop and evolve. Task: In small groups, identify important events that led to the development of a social movement of their choice. Mechanics: 1. Based on what students have learned in the reading, ask them to research on one social movement either in the Philippines or any other country. 2. Then, identify the events that shaped the movement. 3. Which ones can be considered base, and which ones can be considered campaigns? Write them down on the table below.

Social Movement Base

Social Movement Campaign

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Process Questions:

1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Who is the movement attempting to change? How much change is being advocated? What factors have led to the inception of the movement? How was the movement sustained? What happened to the movement (was it institutionalized? commercialized? involuted? radicalized?)? 6. What benefit does knowledge about social movement offer to the Filipino youth today? Material: Bennett, W. Lance. 2012. “The Personalization of Politics: Political Identity, Social Media and Changing Patterns of Participation,” The Annals of the American Academy, 644, pp. 20–39 Guide Questions

1. What is personalization? 2. How is personalization related to individualized collective action? 3. How do social media and other forms of communication alter political participation among the younger generation? Bennett proposes and investigates how large-scale individualized collective action challenges the traditional group-based political participation. He begins the discussion with the rise of personalization brought about by the proliferation of social media and personalized communication technologies. The global neoliberal economic regime also introduced privatization and market forces into one’s daily personal life that highlighted personal freedom and growth.These developments shifted the nature of political participation away from conventional social movements and toward individualized collective action. Several manifestations of such personalized collective actions that have arisen from both left- and right-wing movements are mentioned.Shifts in citizenship orientations among the younger generation have also been observed, as well as rise of DIY (Do-It-Yourself) politics. Despite criticisms for being diverse and loosely organized, it seems that personalized politics have been gaining successful and recognition in the contemporary discussions on political participation.

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Activity 13: Relate It.

This will measure the capacity of the students to relate two topics. Let the students show the relationship between two concepts by giving information that is related to each other.

5;JTW_J?W=>

W>OW\WOVJTW_;O 8=TT;8?W\; J8?W=>

Process Questions:

1. How is personalization related to individualized collective action? 2. How does collective action challenge traditional notions of social movement? Activity 14: Human Tableau

This will measure the capability of students in thinking creatively by making a human tableau. Divide students into groups. Assign them to create different scenarios on how social media and other forms of communication alter political participation among younger generation. Criteria

Thinking; use of planning skills

Communication

Level 1

Level 2

Few elements Some of the tableau elements of are the tableau purposefully are organized purposefully organized Lacks Somewhat precision in precise when modifying modifying body position body position to suit to suit audience and audience and purpose of purpose of tableau tableau

Level 3

Level 4

Elements of the tableau are purposefully organized

Elements of the tableau are purposefully, precisely organized

Modifies body position to suit audience and purpose of tableau with precision

Expertly modifies body position to suit audience and purpose of tableau

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Criteria

Level 1

Level 2

Level 3

Communication, facial expression contribute to focal point

Effectively uses one convention of tableau

Effectively uses two or three conventions of tableau

Effectively uses four or five conventions of tableau

Application; making connections within and between contexts

Expresses the character’s thought, emotion, or action with little or no clarity

Expresses the character’s thought, emotion, or action with some clarity

Clearly expresses the character’s thought,emotion, or action

Level 4

Effectively uses all six conventions of tableau

Source : http://code.on.ca/resource/tableau-rubric

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Activity 15: Link It.

Let your student answer the K part of the activity o w d o n ? t a k w K h u o n W o y e e r a a k t e o s e t N w t o g n w i n o o N g t u o o u n b a o y k t o I e r a t i u h t q w n n a I w g w n o i t n s h t k i L L y r e u o v e y

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Transfer Advocacy Campaign

You are a member of a creative group that was tasked by a government agency to create an advocacy campaign in support of its programs towards sustainable development. There are 17 goals outlined in the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development adopted by world leaders during a United Nations summit in September 2015. These goals are indicated in the picture below.

Source:http://www.un.org/sustainabledevelopment/sustainable-development-goals/

Your task is to conceptualize and create an advocacy campaign using new forms of media and communication technologies. Your goal is to convey to the public the cultural, social, and political challenges attributed to your chosen goal and how the public can effectively adapt to these changes. Agency executives will determine the effectiveness of your campaign.

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Standards Category Use of class time

4 Used time well during each class period. Focused on getting the project done. Never distracted others.

3 Used time well during each class period. Usually focused on getting the project done and never distracted others.

Graphics — relevance

All graphics are related to the topic and make the ad easier to understand.

Required elements

The ad includes a propaganda technique and at least 1 figurative language device. The ad accurately depicts the propaganda technique assigned.

Most graphics are related to the topic and make the ad easier to understand. The ad The ad The ad includes a includes a contains no propaganda figurative propaganda technique but language technique no figurative device but no and no language propaganda figurative device. technique. language device. The ad is The ad is The ad missing 1 missing 2 or doesn’t element that more depict the accurately elements that propaganda depicts the accurately technique propaganda depicts the assigned. technique propaganda assigned. technique assigned.

Content accuracy

2 1 Used some Did not use of the time class time to well during focus on the each class project OR period. There often was some distracted focuson others. getting the project done but occasionally distracted others. Some Graphics do graphics not relate to relate to the the topic. topic.

0 Little to no work completed during class.

No graphics used.

No ad turned in.

No ad turned in.

Source : http://www.slideshare.net/CandaceR/propaganda-11435623

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Activity 16: Lesson Summary Closure

This activity will allow the students to reflect on what they have learned from the lesson. Let the student complete the unfinished sentences to summarize the chapter.

The thing that strikes me the most about social change is _________________ _____________________________________________________________.

An all-encompassing statement that summarizes what social movement is _______________________________________________________________ ______________________________________________________________.

Three most important concepts from this chapter are: 1. 2. 3.

I can become an active member of Philippine society by _________________ _____________________________________________________________.

The form of political participation I am most comfortable doing is _______________________ because ________________________________ _____________________________________________________________.

References 1.

Berger, Peter (1977). Facing up to Modernity: Excursions in Society, Politics, and Religion . New York: Basic Books. 2. Macionis, John (2012). Sociology, 14th Edition. Boston: Pearson. Sources of Graphics: 1. Link Activity http://www.middleweb.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/Link-strategy-red.png 2. My Amazing Life https://www.rainbowresource.com/proddtl.php?id=021631&subject =English%2FWriting/7&category=CREATIVE+WRITING/1633

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Additional Readings A

Ideology, Place, and People Without Culture

B

What is Anthropology?

C

The First Farmers

D

The First Cities and States

E

Museums of Anthropology or Museums as Anthropology

F

A Time to Build, A Time to Tear Down: Religion, Society and State in Contemporary Philippines

129

Renato Rosaldo 140

Thomas Hylland Eriksen 152



Susan M. Pearce 200

Jose M. Cruz, S.J.

G

Folk Catholicism in the Philippines

H

Modernity and the Filipino

I

The Case of Filipina Domestic Helpers in Singapore and Hong Kong

J

Mothering from a Distance: Emotions, Gender and InterGenerational Relations in Filipino Transnational Families

205

Frank Lynch 214

Randolf S. David 223

F. Landa Jocano 231

Rhacel Salazar Parreñas

K

The Personalization of Politics: Political Identity, Social Media, and Changing Patterns of Participation

253

W. Lance Bennett

L

Making Claims in Contentious Politics

269

Charles Tilly & Sidney Tarrow

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A

Ideology, Place, and People without Culture

R ENATO R OSALDO

When I was a graduate student contemplating fieldwork in the Philippines, one of my professors warned me that Filipinos have “no culture.” Meaning to be helpful, he suggested

fieldwork in Madagascar instead. In the end, I ignored his advice. When I arrived in Manila, his prophecy appeared to be confirmed by the standard Filipino half- joke that they were “people without culture.” Unlike Indonesia, they explained, the Philippines never had Hindu-Buddhist temples and other signs of ancestral high culture. What, they added with a twinkle, could one expect from people who had spent three hundred years in a monastery (Spanish colonial rule) and a half century in Hollywood (American colonial rule)? When I reached the Ilongots in the hills of northern Luzon, Philippines, they appeared to be “people without culture”; they lacked the ethnographic staples of the day: lineages, villages, men’s houses, elaborate rituals, not to mention matrilateral cross -cousin

marriage. Even at the beginning of our second period of field research, Michelle Rosaldo wrote in her field journal that we both felt “sad and nervous because there’s no hint that we’ll find more ‘culture’ than last time and every reason to think that there’ll be less” (M. Rosaldo

1974). The following passage from her field journal comments on the impossibility of arriving at a cultural understanding of the drastic cultural changes brought by settlers and missionaries: Some good things are sure to come out of this … but the overwhelming fact that things are changing so quickly, settlers impinging, choices being made between possible lowland allies, padi fields being built which don’t work, people rejecting their past for a polyanna-ish idea of religion — all that is something I have absolutely no sense of how to understand. (It has to be interesting but when I think about it, all I’ve got are boring, depressing thoughts.) [M. Rosaldo 1974] Evidently, the concept of culture could barely describe, let alone analyze, flux, improvisation, and heterogeneity. Weren’t these changes simply robbing Ilongots of their culture? What was so cultural anyway about an apparently transparent brutal process of landgrabbing and “incorporation” into the nation-state? Cultural Visibility and Invisibility

Arguably, anthro pologists hold contradictory notions of culture. The discipline’s official view holds that all human conduct is culturally mediated. In other words, people act in relation, not to brute reality, but to culture-specific modes of perceiving and organizing the world. Thus, in principle, the processes Ilongots were undergoing should be as amenable to cultural description as a kinship system or an initiation ritual. No domain of culture is more or less culturally mediated than any other. Indeed, the quantitative notion of “more” or “less” culture appears to be a throwback to t he days when “high culture” was (and, in certain sectors

of the academy, still is) measured in terms of opera houses, museums, and literary salons.

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If the official view holds that all cultures are equal, an informal filing system, more often found in corridor talk than in published writings, classifies cultures in quantitative terms, from a lot to a little, from thick to thin, and from elaborate to simple. Such variables as ritual elaboration, cosmological reticulation, kinship intricacy, and institutional complexity define greater and lesser “degrees” of culture.

Culture in this view is defined by difference. Difference both makes culture visible to observers and makes it relatively easy to separate nature from nurture. Cultural similarities could be biologically based, but differences require cultural explanation. Thus fieldworkers go half-way around the world to report on having found cultural worlds that are closed, coherent, and different from ours. In their more grouchy moods, ethnographers grumble that they did not risk dysentery and malaria only to discover that Tahiti and Des Moines are, in certain respects, quite alike. To pursue a culture is to seek out its differences, and then to show how it makes sense, as they say, in its own terms. What follows pursues the informal view and maps zones of cultural visibility and invisibility onto the spatial organization within and between nations, particularly Mexico, the Philippines, and the United States. In “our” own eyes, “we” appear to be “people without culture.” By courtesy, “we” extend this postcultural status to people who resemble “us.” What are the consequences of making “our” cultural selves invisible? What cultural politics erase the “self” only to highlight the “other”? What is the ideological fallout from this play of

cultural visibility and invisibility? The preceding and what follows deliberately use caricature to bring once prevalent disciplinary norms into high relief. Although these norms have become particularly visible because they are losing their grip, they continue to exercise a certain hold and therefore require critical scrutiny. By exploring an absence — zones of cultural invisibility-I hope to make present the need to continue revising the discipline’s concept of culture. Zones of Cultural Visibility and Invisibility

Let me begin with a truism: different places are different. Imagine taking this truism a giant step further and devising a Handbook for Young Anthropologists that advises: go to India for hierarchy, New Guinea for pollution, Oceania for adoption, Africa for unilineal descent, and so on across the globe. Conversely, those interested in the unilineal descent group should steer clear of the Philippines where they’ll only be afflicted by the cognatic problem. This imaginary handbook could even advise members of theoretical schools about their preferred places. During my graduate school days in the 1960s, for example, we all knew that smart structural anthropologists could best find what they were looking for either in eastern Indonesia or among Brazil’s Ge -speaking peoples whose dual organizations were strikingly visible in aerial photographs of their villages. Ethnoscientists, on the other hand, prospered most in the Philippines or in the highlands of Chiapas, Mexico, where people seemed to care about nothing so much as naming plants. The fact that different places are different does not derive simply from stereotypes about what’s typical of India, New Guinea, or anywhere else. Nor are these differences merely an artifact of the territorial claims of different schools of metropolitan theory. There

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really is something — call it a sizable grain of truth — to informal professional perceptions. The question is one of limits: where do these typifications yield insight? How do they exclude certain problems from ethnographic study? To what extent can they be understood as ideology? The problem just raised brings to mind the story told by a noted Spanish philologist about his German colleague who rejected most of his Galician linguistic informants because they did not speak the “pure” dialect of Gallego -Portugues. Rather like tourists who seek out the exotic and call it typically Galician, the philologist found that only a tiny minority of the region’s inhabitants spoke their “true” dialect. In his view, the speech of most Galicians had been linguistically “corrupted” by Castilian, leaving them without an authentic language and

culture. What concerns me in the following are precisely the cultural phenomena that escape analysis because they fail to conform with standard expectations about the typical and the authentic. Culture areas contain zones, indeed are laced with pockets and eruptions, where anthropological and other typifications fail. Ambitious young anthropologists would be well advised to avoid such zones, pockets, and eruptions because they are inhabited by “people without culture.” Perhaps because my dissertation no longer is on the line, I will suggest in

what follows that zones of cultural invisibility now pose compelling, as yet unresolved, issues for cultural analysis. The Postcultural Top and the Precultural Bottom

Within particular nations, those who most nearly resemble “ourselves” appear to be “people without culture.” In Mexico, Indians have culture and “Ladinos” do not. In the

Philippines, hill tribes or cultural minorities have culture and lowlanders do not. Ladinos and lowlanders are full citizens of the nation-state. They have jobs, and are regarded as rational, not cultural. People in metropolitan centers classify them as civilized, in contrast with Indians and cultural minorities. To the ethnographic gaze, these civilized people appear too transparent for study; they seem just like us: materialistic, greedy, and prejudiced. Because their worlds are so down to earth and practical, our commonsense categories apparently suffice for making sense of their lives. This analysis can be complicated by further spatialization. In Mexico, Indians inhabit what the Mexican anthropologist Aguirre Beltrán has called refuge regions. The people with culture, in the anthropological sense, have either remained on or been forced onto marginal lands. Their cultural distinctiveness derives from the inherited remnants of indigenous civilizations. Their quaint customs signal isolation, insulation, and subordination within the nation-state. In the Philippine case, the “people without culture” occupy both ends of the social

hierarchy. Roughly speaking, Negrito hunter-gatherers are on the bottom and lowlanders are on top. The difference between the two ends of the spectrum is that the Negritos are precultural and the lowlanders are postcultural.

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The Philippine case differs from the Mexican one above all in its overall explicitness. Schemas crystalized during the American colonial era and still current in Philippine popular culture order the nation’s peoples along a scale arranged from lesser to greater: Negritos,

hunter-horticulturalists, dry rice cultivators, wet rice cultivators, and lowlanders (see R. Rosaldo 1978, 1982). In spatial terms, Negritos occupy the most marginal lands; dry rice and wet rice cultivators tend to be upland, upriver, or in the interior; lowlanders, as their name suggests, reside in the valleys. In this pseudo-evolutionary ladder, people begin without culture, and grow increasingly cultured until they reach that postcultural point where they become transparent to “us.” Degrees of mobility differentiate people “with” and “without” culture. “People with culture” appear sedentary and rooted in their particular niches. Negritos, on the other hand,

often are idealized as nomadic, rootless, and absolutely mobile. Although they are linked to national educational and political institutions, lowlanders comprise a (formally) mobile labor force that makes rational choices to go where the jobs are. Not unlike the !Kung, Negritos are often represented as if they were raw primal humanity, the famous missing link; they supposedly can tell us — if only we listen with care — about the essence of human nature. In ethnographic terms, they appear ideally suited for ecological studies, but of little interest to students of kinship and symbolism. They have not achieved that peculiar hybrid status, at once ecological and symbolic, of the Australian aborigines. Nor do they have the more visible forms of social organization and ritual activity enjoyed by other groups of northern Luzon. As wet rice cultivators, Ifugao settlers, for example, often boasted that they were culturally superior to the hunter-horticulturalist Ilongots whose land they were taking. The Ifugaos measured their greater degree of culture, not in opera houses, but in elaborate rituals, material culture, and terraced wet rice agriculture. Filipino low landers, on the other hand, more nearly resemble Americans in being posthistorical and postcultural. They have been educated; they make decisions about wage labor in accord with an economically rational calculus. Not unlike Mexican ladinos, lowland Filipinos appear to have been assimilated into a system that “we” understand because it is “our” own advanced capitalism. Evidently lowlanders are transparent to “us” because of their

colonial heritage. First they were evangelized under the Spaniards, and then they were educated under the Americans. Like “us,” they have undergone an educational process that has disciplined them and made them fit to live in a city, work in a factory, serve in a penitentiary, or undergo confinement in an asylum. Immigration as Cultural Stripping Away

If a social hierarchy’s top and bottom appear to be zones of “zero degree” culture, so

too is the zone of immigration, or the site where individuals move between two national spaces. Ideally, that is, from the dominant society’s point of view, immigrants are stripped of their former cultures, enabling them to become American citizens, transparent, just like you and me, “people without culture.” In ethnographic terms, so-called acculturation is probably better described as deculturation, or the production of postcultural citizens. The myth of immigration as a cultural stripping away recently appeared, among other places, in a New York Times story about so-called illegal aliens. Published shortly after

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Congress passed the new immigration bill, the story begins by depicting remarkable diversity among the undocumented: Their stories are as diverse as America. Some entered this country swimming naked through the Rio Grande, others with tickets aboard jet liners. They are laborers, classical pianists, secretaries, dishwashers, restaurant owners, high school students. [Reinhold 1986:1A] The writer goes on, however, to celebrate the essential unity underlying this apparent cultural diversity: They come from almost every conceivable country — Mexico, El Salvador, Japan, Vietnam, Korea, Haiti, Ethiopia, Iran, Poland, New Zealand. For all their cultural differences, they have shared a semi-secret life in their chosen land, forming a kind of shadow economy and culture in which any day could end in arrest and deportation. [Reinhold 1986:1A] In the writer’s view, the shared experience of living the “same” secret lives has been

the brew in the Great American Melting Pot. As a resocializing medium, it has produced homogenization and created a new group of “people without culture.” Verbally, at least, the

undocumented have been assimilated into the main stream. Apparently, images of “illegal aliens” have been manufactured for the consumption

of North American readers who at once see themselves as culturally transparent and feel threatened by differences of class and culture. Indeed, metropolitan portraits of Mexican ladinos, Filipino Negritos, Filipino lowlanders, and the vast array of immigrants to the United States strangely resemble the North Americans portrayed in Fra nces Fitzgerald’s Cities on a Hill. Her book describes subcultures that have found ways to live out a number of versions of the “American dream.” For all their differences, they share utopian fantasies of making new

beginnings and living in a world without precedents. The retirement village of Sun City, for example, appears extraordinary, not because its local melting pot has succeeded in amalgamating diversity, but rather because of its residents’ past and present homogeneity:

Sun Citians are a remarkably homogeneous group; in particular, those who live in Sun City proper occupy a far narrower band on the spectrum of American society than economics would dictate… the men are by and large retired professionals Most of the women were housewives Most Sun Citians are Protestants Politically, they are conservative and vote Republican. [Fitzgerald 1986:218]

… ...

...

Yet this uniformity remains largely invisible to Sun Citians. One Sun City couple, for example, affably remarked on how its residents live in the present and appear to have erased their pasts: “No one gives a hang here what you did or where you came from,” Mrs. Smith said. “It’s what you are now that matters.” Later, in a different context, her husband said

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much the same thing, adding that the colonels refused to be called [Fitzgerald 1986:219]

“Colonel.”

Phenotype aside, Sun Citians appear to themselves as 20th-century versions of nomadic, rootless Philippine Negritos. In remarking on the absolute irrelevance of social origins, however, the Smiths failed to notice the striking absence of blacks, Chicanos, Puerto Ricans, and Native Americans in Sun City. For the social construction of distinctively North American rootless utopias, some pasts evidently matter more than others. Assimilation as a Model of Cross-Cultural Understanding

The model for cross-cultural understanding that produces immigration as a site of cultural stripping away is the academic version of the melting pot: theories of acculturation and assimilation. In this view, immigrants, or at any rate their children and grandchildren, are absorbed into the national culture. Above all, the process involves the loss of one’s past autobiography, history, heritage, language, and all the rest of the so-called cultural baggage. Where Jose Rizal and Gregorio Cortes once stood, there shall be George Washington and the Texas Rangers. The theory of assimilation appears to have the inevitability of a law of history. If it doesn’t catch up with you this generation, it will in the next.

In this view, social mobility and acculturation usually go hand-in-hand, for to become middle-class in North America is purportedly to become part of the mainstream. Indeed, this notion suggests that the Philippine social hierarchy with its degrees of culture owes much to assimilation theory. Those most down and out, such as Philippine Negritos and the urban North American underclasses, appear to lack culture. Social mobility from the “bottom” brings people into zones where culture flourishes, such as Mexican refuge regions,

Philippine upland and upriver areas, and North American ethnic neighborhoods, barrios, and ghettos. Social mobility closer to the “top,” however, reverses the process and begins a

cultural stripping away in which Mexican Indians and Filipino cultural minorities become peasants and workers, and North American farmers and workers become members of the urban middle class. Professional anthropologists can probably dismiss the views just outlined as somebody else’s ideology, a dated theory, a bit of popular cu lture, or mere journalism. We would do well, however, to remind ourselves that assimilation and resocialization as models of cross-cultural understanding implicitly inform much North American field research. How often does one hear fieldworkers (implausibly) compare their fluency in non-Western languages with that of indigenous children? At any rate, in my own experience of learning Ilongot culture in the Philippines I constantly compared myself with a child. My first transcriptions of Ilongot texts were written in awkward, large, bold script, peculiarly like my first grade son’s efforts to squeeze the “b” or the “p” between the wide lines. His teacher tells me that Manny’s trouble is small motor coordination, but I don’t know quite how to describe

my own problem while initiating ethnographic fieldwork. Perhaps voluntary infantilization will do. Learning a second culture apparently should replicate learning the first one, hence the process of reinfantilization, and the peculiarly North American equation of the fieldworker with a child (for a revealing contrast with French anthropology, see Clifford 1983). Perhaps this process of reinfantilization informs the myth of fieldwork as rebirth and initiation.

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In any case, the fieldworker’s task as a version of early childhood enculturation and

socialization seemed so natural to me that I eagerly endowed Ilongots with the same perception. When Ilongots decided to teach us their language, I imagined that they did so by commanding (tuydek) us to get things, much as they did with their own children (for an extended treatment of tuydek see M. Rosaldo 1982). In so doing, I conflated my perception with theirs. Altogether too unconsciously, not to mention mistakenly, I acted on an implicit cultural universal: it is only natural to imagine that learning a second culture resembles learning the first one. Anthropologists often talk about the seeing things from the native point of view. We invoke native views in discussions of such culturally distinctive notions as honor, shame, the person, marriage, the family, kinship, hierarchy, and even history. Yet we have given little thought to how members of other cultures conceive the translation of cultures. How do they go about understanding cultural difference, whether in their neighbors, their ethnographers, or their missionaries? Consider, for example, an Ilongot life history that I recorded from a man named Tukbaw (R. Rosaldo 1976). Tukbaw and I at the time conceived our task as linguistic. He was trying to teach me his language, and I was trying to learn it. His first text begins as follows: We are making a house, a new house. Come here, we are going to cut down some trees. Now we are going to put it into the ground. I am going to cut and scrape the earth clean and we will see if we do not put up the house tomorrow. Raise up the house posts. Go and get some people. Go and get some rattan that we can use for tying it together. Also, get some grass for the roof. Reading this text today, I find myself puzzled about Tukbaw’s conception of cross-

cultural understanding. His narrative contains multiple commands, but he clearly did not think (as, at the time, I imagined) that I was like an Ilongot child who was learning the meaning of words by following adult commands (tuydek). His words are spoken more man to man than man to child. In fact, the task he imagines that we are about to begin, tying knots on houses, is a skill so difficult to achieve that Ilongots regard it as one of the primary indications that a boy has achieved the status of adult manhood. Tukbaw’s other early texts similarly describe such other adult activities as visiting, fishing, hunting, and drinking. Just how Ilongots “put themselves in somebody else’s shoes,” or “see things from the native point of view,” or whether su ch terms for cross-cultural understanding even make

sense to them remains unclear to me. They do not suppose, for example, that they can know what is in another person’s heart. Insofar as I grasp it, their notion is that they achieve cross cultural understanding by successfully following another person’s directions (by knowing how, as the philosophers say, rather than by knowing that). Surely, however, reinfantilization does not begin to describe Ilongot notions of cross-cultural understanding. Unassimilable Cultures

Perhaps we should return to the New York Times story and listen for a moment to the “illegal aliens,” poised as they are on the brink of North American citizenship. Resocialized by their shared secret lives, they supposedly have already become “people without culture.” It

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is tempting to assume that monopoly capitalism inexorably commodifies people, turning them into so many rational decision-making individuals. Yet a certain irresistible something about the “illegal aliens” bubbles over the rim of the melting pot: [Lan Thiet Lu, from North Vietnam]: “I feel I belong here. I want to belong here, especially because I don’t have my country any more.” [Shunsuke Kurakata, Japan, playing with a symphony orchestra]: he has not decided if he will seek American citizenship. I just don’t know yet,” he said. “It’s not all real “

yet.”

[Mexican, Marcelino Castro]: He has learned a passable version of English and exhibits a certain fatalism about his life. “Ni modo,” he says, roughly “what could I do?” when describing his troubles… Now he wants to start his own business and

become an American citizen. He already owns two color television sets and a cordless telephone and is a fervent Dallas Cowboys fan. [Reinhold 1986: 10B] The undocumented speak with a measure of irony. They simultaneously accede to and resist their cultural homogenization. Even as they move toward co-optation, they prove unassimilable. The writer himself manifests a significant factor (or barrier) in this contradictory process, for he cannot resist indulging his prejudices: his Vietnamese appears inscrutable, his Japanese successful, and his Mexican fatalistic —“ni modo.” In response to the writer’s stereotypes, the undocumented both comply and deviate, bobbing and weaving between assimilation and resistance. The Vietnamese woman feels she belongs here, but notes that she has no choice because her native country has vanished; the Japanese musician finds possible citizenship so unreal that he can’t decide whether or not even to apply; the Mexican has a cordless telephone and roots for the Dallas Cowboys, but speaks only passable English, spiced with “ni modo.” The writer’s prejudice and the resistance of the undocumented

combine to muddy the clear waters of compliance and assimilation. Border Zones

The complex case of the undocumented suggests the need for a notion of the border, conceived as a zone between stable places. The site of the implosion of the Third World into the first, the border has been portrayed, among other places, in the popular television series, Miami Vice. Much as the right so often, at least in recent years, masquerades as the left, Miami Vice disguises itself as affirmative action heaven, with blacks, Ladinos, and whites all playing cops and robbers, vibrantly policing and trafficking drugs together. Yet the 1984 – 86 seasons involve a play of racial domination more subtle than the Lone Ranger and Tonto. The black cop Tubbs consistently acts overly emotional (irrational) and has to be cared for by his white partner Crockett. During the 1986-87 seasons, Tubbs often nurtures his slightly crazed partner in a displaced version of the relationship between a nanny and her master. Stereotypic Latino figures-flamboyant, slimy, lazy, cowardly-pervade the episodes, as American viewing audiences reinforce or learn forms of prejudice that probably will prove useful during the coming decade. Official pronouncements about the “Decade of the

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Hispanic” barely conceal diffuse anxieties about the impending impact of demographic

projections for Latinos in the United States. Strangely enough, a front page story from the San Jose Mercury News suggests that life under advanced capitalism at times almost imitates television art: A massive cocaine-selling ring uncovered in Foster City last week was a model of sophisticated Colombian-run operations common in Southern California but only recently surfacing on such a large scale in the Bay Area. Some believe this wholesaling of cocaine, already firmly established in Southern California, is moving north. In a typical scenario, some inconspicuous, very middle-class-looking people — often unarmed middle-aged women — move into a comfortable neighborhood and rent a condominium by putting down a hefty deposit. But inside the condos they are guarding huge amounts of cocaine. [Bailey 1986:18] White zoot suits, high tension mood music, and carefully chosen pastels (especially during the 1984 – 86 seasons) may make the blood run faster, but socially invisible Colombians, perhaps living next door, strike terror in suburban souls. Not unlike “illegal aliens,” Colombian cocaine peddlers cannot be contained within the dominant society’s vision of citizenship and assimilation. Evidently, drab reality at once

has been informed by, and appears more threatening than, television fantasy: Contrary to the stereotype depicted in television shows like “Miami Vice,” the suspects in many cases drive new but not flashy cars and refrain from displays of weaponry, exotic or otherwise. [Bailey 1986:6B] The immigrants who most appear to fit right in —Foster City’s cocaine trafficker’— are in fact the most alien. The story involves a play of spatial stereotypes, the South is invading the North, Los Angeles is infiltrating the Bay Area, and Latino cocaine traffickers are infesting middle-class neighborhoods. This racial nightmare of the imagination has a venerable genealogy, most recently invoked by Ronald Reagan when he spoke about Nicaragua’s proximity to south Texas; it gave the new immigration bill a boost; it assisted California’s overwhelming

passage of the English-only initiative; it informs Miami Vice. Just as Ilongots have a distinctive conception of cross-cultural understanding, and the undocumented describe their “assimilation” in peculiar tones, so too Latino zoot suiters enjoy an alternative view of their own cultural flamboyance. Take, for example, a representative passage from Jose Montoya’s “El Louie,” an early 1970s evocation of a “pachuco” from the

late 1950s:

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En Sanjo you’d see him

sporting a dark topcoat playing in his fantasy the role of Bogart, Cagney or Raft. An Louie would come throughmelodramatic music, like in the mono — tan tan taran! — Cruz Diablo, El Charro Negro! Bogart smile (his smile as deadly as his vaisas!) He dug roles, man, and names —like “Blackie,” “Little Louie…” Ese, Louie… Chale, man, call me “Diamonds!” [Montoya 1972]

People have often interpreted this poem with too much solemnity. Perhaps El Louie inhabits the drab world of the lumpenproletariat, but he’s also a ludic figure, playing the role, the cat role, just plain playing. He seeks out incongruity, unlikely juxtapositions: Cagney, El Charro Negro; Bogart, Cruz Diablo. “Post-modern” before its time, the poem celebrates

polyphony in its polyglot text, and heterogeneity in making Anglo, Chicano, and Mexican elements move together in the dance of life. It epitomizes the border as a culturally distinctive space. The Play of Cultural Practices

The view of an authentic culture as an autonomous internally coherent universe no longer seems tenable in a postcolonial world. Neither “we” nor “they” are as self -contained and homogeneous as we/they once appeared. All of us inhabit an interdependent late 20thcentury world, which is at once marked by borrowing and lending across porous cultural boundaries, and saturated with inequality, power, and domination. Most metropolitan typifications suppress, exclude, and even repress border zones. What the San Jose Mercury News and Miami Vice see as threatening can be seen as ludic. Perhaps we — El Louie, myself, and others — can serve as reminders that space is neither necessarily coherent nor always homogeneous. Nor need it parce neatly into zones: precultural, cultural, and postcultural. It just could be, more often than we usually like to think, criss-crossed by border zones, pockets, and eruptions of all kinds. These border zones, pockets, and eruptions, along with our supposedly transparent cultural selves, are as profoundly cultural as anything else.

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References Cited

1. Bailey, Brandon 1986 Sophisticated Cocaine Rings Moving Into the Bay Area. The San Jose Mercury News, October 26:1B, 6B.

6. Rosaldo, Michelle 1974 Field Journal. MS. 7. Rosaldo, Michelle 1982 The Things We Do with Words: llongot Speech Acts and Speech Act Theory in Philosophy. Language and Society II :203 – 237. 8. Rosaldo, Renato1976 The Story of Tukbaw: They Listen as He Orates. In The Biographical Process: Studies in the History and Psychology of Religion. Frank Reynolds and Donald Capp, eds. Pp. 121 – 151. The Hague: Mouton. 9. Rosaldo, Renato 1978 The Rhetoric of Control: llongots Viewed as Natural Bandits and Wild Indians. In The Reversible World: Symbolic Inversion in Art and Society. Barbara Babcock, ed. Pp. 240 – 257. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. 10. Rosaldo, Renato 1982 Utter Savages of Scientific Value. In Politics and History in Band Societies. Eleanor Leacock and Richard Lee, eds. Pp. 309 – 325. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

2. Clifford, James 1983 Power and Dialogue in Ethnography: Marcel Griaule’s Initiation. In

Observers Observed: Essays on Ethnographic Fieldwork. George W. Stocking, Jr., ed. Pp. 121 – 156. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. 3. Fitzgerald, Frances 1986 Cities on a Hill: A Journey through Contemporary American Cultures. New York: Simon and Schuster. 4. Montoya, José 1972 El Louie. In Literature Chicana, Texto y Contexto. Antonia Castaneda et al., eds. Pp. 173 – 176. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall. 5. Reinhold, Robert 1986 Illegal Aliens Hoping to Claim Their Dreams. The New York Times, November 3:1, 10.

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B

What is Anthropology?

THOMAS HYLAND ERIKSEN

In the 1950s, anthropologists were discovering change, either as an evolutionary movement (in the United States) or as an individual innovation (in Britain). But they were also discovering meaning. Speculation on the meaning of symbols was nothing new. Indeed, in the United States, the ‘discovery’ was not the least subversive. The most important young American symbolic anthropologists, Clifford Geertz and David Schneider, both saw themselves as direct inheritors of the Boasian tradition. In Britain, the situation was different. Here, the study of meaning was still associated with Frazer, who had speculated extensively on the functions of magic in The Golden Bough. Durkheim had studied religion, but in its ritual aspect, rather than as a universe of meaning. It was the organizational practice of religion, rather than its content with which he was concerned. Weber ’s interpretive sociology was not well known. Thus, the study of meaning, in the British context, was tainted with evolutionism and was best avoided. The great exception to the rule, here, was EvansPritchard, who had boldly followed Frazer ’s topic in his study of Azande witchcraft, before becoming a main promoter of structural-functionalism. Now he would turn apostate and lead British anthropology into this new realm. In France, an entirel y different pathwas taken. LéviStrauss’s structuralism was widely seen as the crowning achievement of the tradition from Durkheim and Mauss. But was it? Later French intellectuals would spend many years discussing this question. From Function to Meaning

We turn to the British situation first. Now, the interest in meaning was not entirely absent from the mainstream of British social anthropology. An example was the seminal article by Jack Goody and the literary theorist Ian Watt, ‘The Consequences of Literacy’ (Goody and Watt 1963), which argued that writing irreversibly changed both the social structure and the structure of reasoning (or cognitive style) of society. The article, which sparked a debate with complex ramifications — in part because it intersected with the elaborate conception of ‘action as text’ proposed by the French philosopher Paul Ricoeur (see Ricoeur 1971) — is definitely concerned with meaning, but with the social functions of meaning, not with meaning itself. Evans-Pritchard’s interests were more radical than this. He could afford to be radical. When he succeeded Radcliffe-Brown as Professor at Oxford in 1946, he had already authored two hugely influential monographs and co-edited a book — African Political Systems — that defined the mainstream research agenda of British anthropology for two decades. The companion volume, African Systems of Kinship and Marriage, edited by Radcliffe-Brown and Forde, had much less impact. Firth at the LSE and Fortes at Cambridge not with standing, Evans-Pritchard was beyond doubt the most powerful social anthropologist of the time. When, in his Marett lecture on ‘History and social anthropology’ in 1951, he repudiated structural-functionalism and distanced himself from his teacher, this was headline news and impossible to ignore for the anthropological community. In the lecture he claimed, on the one hand, that it would be nonsense to believe that synchronous studies could yield insights of the same depth as historical studies; on the other, that in terms of method, social anthropology had more in common with history than with the natural sciences. He was rejecting two of the main stays of structural-functionalism. In his later work, Evans-Pritchard abandons the search for ‘natural laws of society’ and attempts,

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more realistically, to understand the meaning of particular social institutions. His second Nuer book, Kinship and Marriage among the Nuer (1951b), was much more descriptive and less theoretically ambitious than The Nuer . On the other hand, it contains fewer contestable ideas. It was in no small measure the elegant, but simple models of The Nuer that led to the ‘revolution’described in the previous chapter. In 1958, the philosopher Peter Winch published The Idea of a Social Science and Its Relation to Philosophy, a book that would subsequently exert considerable influence on anthropological discourse about intercultural translation. In the book, Winch argued that it was impossible to establish objective, ‘testable’ knowledge about cultural phenomena, since their meaning was defined by the cultural universe of which they were a part. Head opted a strongly relativist position, arguing that there exists no privileged, ‘context-independent’ position from which to compare and evaluate other cultures, except for our common experiences of universal bodily processes, such as ‘ birth, copulation and death’ (Winch himself quotes Eliot at this point). Social anthropology was, in Winch’s view, a Western cultural oddity on a par with the witchcraft institution among the Azande, and had no right to see its access to knowledge as privileged. Winch used the Azande monograph as the main example of a philosophically untenable position, since Evans-Pritchard presented a ‘scientific’ explanation of the ‘obviously mistaken’ belief in witches. What if the tables were turned? How can we judge whether a ‘witchcraft’ explanation of the ‘obviously mistaken’ belief in science would be less true? Winch’s book was the starting-point of a long and important debate about rationality and cultural translation, to which both philosophers and anthropologists contributed (B.Wilson 1970; Hollisand Lukes 1982; Overing 1985). It is worth noticing that Evans-Pritchard seems to have arrived at a similar position independently of Winch. The third volume of the Nuer trilogy, Nuer Religion (1956), is more interpretive than explanatory; at the outset, the author declares that his main ambition is to make sense of the Nuer worldview, not to explain it sociologically. In this, he is in accord with his Oxford colleague and close associate in his later period, Godfrey Lienhardt, whose later work on the Nuer ’s neighbours, the Dinka, was similarly interpretive (see Lienhardt 1961). Understanding and translation now had become a more pressing task than explanation and the search for general ‘laws’. On the other hand, it is also true, as Evans-Pritchard’s student, Mary Douglas(1980) says, that his entire output was marked by c ontinuity — from the Azande book onwards. Even The Nuer , which is often described as the archetype of orthodoxy, is in fact an evocative, even a poetic, book. While the renewed focus on change in British anthropology is often described as a transition from structure to process, the change in Evans-Pritchard’s position was a movement from function to meaning. Especially two of his intellectual descendants would, in the decades following the Marett lecture, fulfil the promise of a combination of a micro-sociology concerned with integration, and an interpretive method concerned with symbolic significance. The first was Gluckman’s student Victor Turner (1922 – 83). During the 1950s and 1960s, he developed a perspective on symbols and social cohesion which has become increasingly influential ever since. Unlike Leach, Turner was mainly concerned with ritual, not myth; and while Leach saw the germ of social dissolution in myths, Turner ultimately saw rituals as cohesive (though not as unchanging). As Durkheim had implied, they offered splendid material for the ethnography since they expressed the central values and tensions of a society in an intensely concentrated form. Turner ’s approach to rituals, which was increasingly oriented towards symbols rather than social integration, nevertheless sought to combine a concern with symbolic meaning with an underlying Durkheimian notion of cohesion. In one of the most influential British monographs of the 1950s, Schism and Continuity in an African Society (Turner 1957), he introduced the concept

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of the social drama. Like most of his writings on ritual, its ethnographic focus is on the Ndembu of Northern Rhodesia (Zambia), and the main problem is a classic one, namely how matrilineal societies (like the Ndembu) solve the problem of integration. While succession, inheritance and group membership are united in a single principle among patrilineal peoples, different rights and duties are based on different criteria among matrilineal groups. In the social drama, which tends to be a rite of passage, underlying norms are given a symbolic expression, and the ritual thereby contributes to the integration of society. Although the monograph was structural-functionalist in its basic assumptions, it suggested that change was on its way. In a series of articles written in the late 1950s and early 1960s, and published as The Ritual Process in 1967, Turner developed his influential theory of ritual communication. In ‘Betwixt and Between: The Liminal Period in Rites-de-Passage’, he introduced the concept of liminality, later a staple in anthropological studies of ritual (and, it sometimes seems, almost anything else). Taking his cue from van Gennep’s early work on rites of passage, Turner regards the ritual, and in particular the initiation ritual, as a process of transformation whereby a person moves from one defined state to another, with an intervening period of uncertainty and crisis. It is this state of crisis — the liminal stage — that is the focus of the ritual, which seeks to control it and to impose the values of society upon the wavering individual who is, for a short but critical period, ‘ betwixt and between’. In this ‘gap’ between social statuses, neither old nor new rules apply, and the individual is compelled to reflect on her situation, her place in society and indeed the existence of society as such. Thus, liminality is both a critical and a creative state of being, and change seems a potential of any ritual. And yet, in the end, the initiate is nearly always re-integrated into society. In other words, there is continuity with both Durkheim and Gluckman in Turner ’s work, which nevertheless stands out through its emphasis on the individual, its preoccupation with the meaning of symbols, and its focus on critical phases in social process. Turner also emphasised the multivocality or multiple meanings of symbols, implying that symbols themselves might be a tension-filled source of change, and that identical symbols could mean different things to different people, thus creating a sense of community among people who were otherwise very different. In another couple of decades, the latter idea would be followed up by students of nationalism. Another Africanist of structural-functionalist descent who would give social anthropology a determined thrust towards the study of symbols in their social context, was Mary Douglas (1921 – ). A student of Evans-Pritchard, Douglas studied the Lele of Kasai, Belgian Congo, in the late 1950s. This brought her into close contact with French and Belgian anthropology, and she would eventually be more influenced by Durkheim himself than by Radcliffe-Brown. Her most influential early work was not the monograph that came out of the fieldwork, but a theoretical and comparative study of symbolic boundaries and classification, Purity and Danger (1966). The book combines an almost orthodox structural-functionalism with a highly sophisticated symbolic analysis drawing on both structuralist and psycho analytical impulses. Hugely successful both within and outside anthropology, Purity and Danger is, in a way, a British counterpart to Patterns of Culture. In both cases, the concern is with group identity and values; but whereas Benedict does not look beyond the symbolic aspects of culture, Douglas consistently links symbols to social institutions in the classic Durkheimian way. In her view, symbols are means of social classification, which distinguish between various categories of objects, persons or actions, and keep them separate. The order of the classificatory system reflects and symbolises the social order, and ‘intermediate’,

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‘unclassifiable’ phenomena therefore represent a threat to social stability. Snakes (animals

without legs) and substances that pass in and out of the body, are regarded as problematic. Foods are often ordered in hierarchies of ‘ pure’ and ‘ polluted’,which have nothing to do with their nutritional value. Bodily waste is universally polluting and potentially dangerous, since it symbolically challenges the existing order. Where Barth, for example, would see an unorthodox, unclassifiable person as a potential entrepreneur, as someone who might make change come about, Douglas would see the same person as a classificatory anomaly. This contrast indicates the differences between systemic and actor-centred perspectives, as they appeared in British anthropology in the 1960s. Both Douglas and Turner would refine and expand their perspectives through the next decades. Douglas, who is still active today, would eventually do pioneering work on economic consumption (Douglas and Isherwood 1979), risk perception and modern technology, and institutional anthropology. Turner, who moved to the United States in 1961, would develop his ideas of liminality into a general theory of ritual performance (Turner 1969, 1974, 1987). Though Turner died in 1983, his influence continued to grow during the 1980s and 1990s, when his concern with performative play and reflexivity would be welcomed by the postmodernist movement in anthropology, and by anthropologists concerned with bodily experience, emotions and the symbolic dimensions of power. Though his intellectual itinerary thus passes from a fairly orthodox structuralfunctionalism to a radical focus on aesthetics and performance, he remained at heart a Durkheimian — although his Durkheimianism differed radically from that of Radcliffe-Brown. Ethnoscience and Symbolic Anthropology

While many anthropologists in the early postwar years, especially in Britain, rejected attempts to turn anthropology into an accurate science, others went in the opposite direction. This was not only the case with the American cultural ecologists and the British methodological individualists, but also — perhaps surprisingly — with people working within the broad framework of American linguistic anthropology. Several of Sapir ’s successors explored semantics and language structures in traditional societies in an accurate way. Some of these devised quantitative methods tailored to measure frequencies and connections between native terms, and worked closely with psychologists, linguists and others engaged in the emerging interdisciplinary field of cognitive science. Among the foremost of these were Harold Conklin, Charles Frake and Ward Goodenough, who all contributed to the development of ethnoscience in the 1950s. Ethnoscience was concerned with describing ‘cultural grammars’, through identifying the building-blocks of semantic universes or systems of knowledge. They drew on both the culture and personality school ’s interest in socialisation, on formal linguistics and on the comparative study of classification, where both Sapir and Whorf (and, before them, Durkheim and Mauss) had done ground-breaking work. In its most technical form, ethnoscience appeared as componential analysis, which combined linguistic anthropology and quantitative methods with the general 1950s concern with kinship. In its original form, ethnoscience died out some time during the 1960s, but the general issues it raised have been pursued later in cognitive anthropology (see D’Andrade 1995; Shore 1996). Regardless of methodology, they largely concern the relationship between the universal and the culturally specific in human knowledge systems. Colour classification was an early, and relatively simple field, which was explored in this way. There were also interesting parallels between the concerns of ethnoscience and the emerging rationality debate in Britain on the one hand, and the concerns of Lévi-Straussian structuralism on the other hand. However, unlike both Winch and Lévi-Strauss, the ethnoscientists worked inductively, amassing huge amounts of data which were processed by the massive, sluggish computers of

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the day. After Boas’s death, the pater familias of American anthropology was Kroeber. In 1952, he published, with Clyde Kluckhohn (1905 – 60), Culture: A Critical Review of Concepts and Definitions, which discusses 162 definitions of culture, and ends by recommending the abandonment of Tylor ’s and Boas’s all-embracing concept in favour of a definition limited to cognitive (symbolic, meaningful) culture. In the 1950s, American anthropology was still largely dominated by Boas ’s students, who produced rather predictable work in the culture and personality tradition, often merged with Durkheimian and Weberian ideas, which were gradually gaining acceptance in the USA, largely through the work of Parsons, who collaborated with several of the leading American anthropologists of the day. One of the most interesting monographs of this period was Kluckhohn’s Navaho Witchcraft (1944), which resembles Evans-Pritchard’s Azande monograph, in that it attempts to combine a sociological, functionalist analysis with a psychological perspective. The swing towards the study of meaning which took place in British anthropology had its parallel in the USA, not least thanks to Parsons ’s influence. Parsons, the leading social scientist in the USA in the 1950s, had monumental visions for the social sciences, and was well connected with funding agencies. He suggested a ‘temporary division of labour ’ between sociology and anthropology, in which the sociologists would study power, labour and social organisation, while the anthropologists (in accordance with the new, cognitive definition of culture) would focus on the symbolic and meaningful aspects of social life. In an article jointly authored by Parsons and Kroeber in 1958, this ‘truce’ (as the authors themselves called it) was programmatically endorsed (see Kuper 1999: 69). Although twentieth-century American anthropology had always concentrated chiefly on the symbolic, this development entailed a further narrowing of the subject — or, at least, part of it. Geertz and Schneider

Two of the postgraduate students who received funds through a joint ParsonianKroeberian programme at Harvard were Clifford Geertz (1926 – 2006) and David M. Schneider (1918 – 1995). Both took part in interdisciplinary projects during their Ph.D. studies — Schneider doing fieldwork on Yap, in Micronesia, Geertz on Java. Both at the time endorsed the cognitive definition of culture, with Geertz, in his early work, carefully distinguishing between two ‘logics of integration’: society, or social structure, was integrated ‘causal functionally’, while culture, or the symbolic realm, was integrated ‘logicomeaningfully’. The two subsystems, he argued, true to the 1950s ‘truce’, could in principle be studied independently of each other. In the 1960s, Geertz and Schneider emerged as the most important American symbolic anthropologists (along with Turner, who was by now in the USA), with research programmes that were sharply opposed to the materialist views of Steward’s students, such as Wolf and Sahlins (for a while a colleague of Geertz at Chicago). Both Geertz and Schneider eventually saw the ‘division of labour ’ between sociology and anthropology as a limitation, but instead of re-conquering the social, they expanded the field of culture as a symbolic system. They began to promote an idea of culture as an independent, self-sustaining system, which could perfectly well be studied without taking societal conditions into account. This view was met with hostility in Britain, where the idea that meaning could be studied without taking social organisation into account seemed patently absurd. Schneider ’s best known work is American Kinship (1968), a study of American kinship terms based on interview data collected by his students. The ‘American Kinship Project’ was the result of a cooperation

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between Firth and Schneider. The two anthropologists, who had spent a year together at Stanford University during the late 1950s, agreed that it would be of interest to extend the anthropological tradition of kinship studies to modern societies, and inaugurated a comparative project of middle-class kinship in London(Firth) and Chicago (Schneider). Although the comparative aspect of the project was never realized, and the two studies were published separately, Schneider ’s book became a milestone in kinship research, in part because it demonstrated that kinship studies in complex societies were possible and interesting, and in part because it fundamentally challenged the way in which anthropologists thought about kinship. After Evans-Pritchard’s defection, kinship studies remained the last stronghold of structural-functionalism, which had not yet been affected by the new methodological individualism. Then, in 1962, John Barnes published the critical article ‘African models in the New Guinea Highlands’ (reprinted in Barnes 1990), which demonstrated conclusively that the theory of segmentary lineages, which had so successfully been applied in Africa, could not be transferred to the New Guinea context without seriously distorting the data. The problem lay not with the kinship terms themselves. It was possible to interpret the New Guinea material in the orthodox way, but such an interpretation flew in the face of native understandings of kinship as well as their practices. Schneider ’s book made a similar statement, but its conclusions were more radical. While Firth, in his London study, had catalogued a fairly standard range of kinship terms, Schneider ’s informants were asked to give information about allthe relatives with whom they had any kind of kin relationship.A far broader view of kinship thus became possible, indeed, it emerged that kinship constituted an entire cultural universe, within which the informants moved at will. This implied that the idea of kinship as a biologically based model of human relations was faulty. This was not a new observation, but in Schneider ’s version, a culture could construct kinship entirely from scratch, without any reference to blood-ties whatsoever. Moreover, within ‘the culture of kinship’ each individual term derived its meaning from the integrated semantic network of which it was a part, and which was unique for the culture in question. This meant that even elementary kinship terms, such as ‘father ’, would have different meanings in different kinship cultures — which undermined the entire project of comparative kinship studies that had survived since Morgan. Schneider ’s redefinition of kinship from social structure to culture has parallels in the work of Geertz. Geertz’s association with Parsons at Harvard has already been mentioned. However, influences from European sociology, from Boas, and even from Steward’s cultural ecology, are also apparent. Geertz’s early work dealt with a wide variety of themes, from ecology (1963a) and economy (1963b) to religion (1960). His oft-cited and eloquent article on ‘thick description’ (1964, reprinted in Geertz 1973) states his methodological credo, and argues, in line with Malinowski and Boas, that anthropologists should seek to describe the world from the native’s point of view. Of the European sociologists, Geertz was familiar with both Durkheim and Weber, in addition to Alfred Schütz (1899 – 1959), a German social phenomenologist who insisted on an interpretive approach to action. The decisive intellectual impulse in Geertz’s mature work, however, came from the French philosopher Paul Ricoeur (1913 – ), who had argued that society (or culture) can be interpreted as a text, using the interpretive methods of hermeneutics that were specifically evolved for this purpose. Hermeneutics is a method of approaching a text that has its roots in medieval exegesis of texts, notably the Bible, and which has since been used extensively by historians, literary theorists and philosophers. Very briefly, it states that a text is

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simultaneously an assemblage of individual parts and a seamless whole, and that interpreting the text involves a movement to and from between these two poles. When Geertz introduced this notion into anthropology, it seemed to obviate the distinction between methodical individualism and collectivism, since a society cannot be understood without taking account of both perspectives. On the other hand, it also seemed to imply that social phenomena must be’read’, not only by the anthropologist, but by the members of society themselves. As opposed to the British anthropologists, who focused on the individual as a (normative or strategic) actor , Geertz thus introduced the individual as a reader. Against their assumption that society was rationally constituted and that the individual might participate in it through rational activity, Geertz posited the idea that the world is often incomprehensible, and that the subject must actively interpret what she sees. Thus, in the article ‘Religion as a cultural system’ (1966, reprinted in Geertz 1973), he argued that religion is not primarily a functionally integrated subsystem of a social whole, but a means for individuals to make sense of the world. In 1973, Geertz’s most important early articles were collected in The Interpretation of Cultures, and his reputation has been on the rise ever since. During the 1980s in particular, he was viewed as a kind of postmodernist avant la lettre, although it seems obvious to the present authors that this is at least a partial over simplification. Lévi-Strauss and Structuralism

The son of prosperous Jewish parents of the cultured middle class, Claude LéviStrauss (1908 – ) studied philosophy and law in Paris in the early 1930s, and associated with the intellectual circle around the existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre. In 1935 – 39, he taught at the University of São Paolo in Brazil, and carried out short-term field trips to several peoples of the Amazon region. Being a Jew, he again left France during the Second World War, and upon the intercession of Métraux and Lowie, he was offered a position at the New School of Social Research in New York City, where he stayed until 1945. While in New York, he was influenced by Boasian anthropology, and met the great Russian-American linguist, Roman Jakobson (1896 – 1982), whose structural linguistics would become a mainstay of Lévi-Strauss’s later work. He received his doctorate in Paris in 1947, and published his dissertation in 1949 as Les Structures élémentaires de la parenté (The Elementary Structures of Kinship, 1969). It was a book that would revolutionise kinship studies. Six years later, Lévi-Strauss published the ultimate anthropological travelogue, Tristes Tropiques (1955), a wide-ranging, beautifully written and intricately composed narrative, so full of suggestive and haunting passages that it would be useless to summarise it here. Then, after three more years, came a collection of articles, Anthropologie structurale (1958; Structural Anthropology, 1963a). Together, these three books established LéviStrauss’s reputation as a formidable thinker with enormous ethnographic and theoretical knowledge, and outlined the monumental lifework that would unfold over the next four decades. By now, he had also established structuralism, the theoretical approach for which he is renowned. Structuralism is a theory that attempts to grasp the general qualities of meaningful systems, most famously, in Lévi-Strauss’s own work, of kinship systems and myths. Such systems consist of elements, but the elements themselves are not delineated categories or objects, but relationships. A kinship system, for example, is a meaningful system and thus consists of relationships, rather than positions ( ‘statuses’). A father is not in himself a father, but only in relationship to his children. The idea that meaning was relational was not in itself new. It was an important component of Jakobson ’s structural linguistics, as

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well of the semiotic linguistics established by Ferdinand de Saussure before the FirstWorld War. In both, meaning derives from the relationship — the contrast or difference — between linguistic elements (phonemes, words, signs). Relational meaning was also central to cybernetics — as Bateson liked to say, meaning is a ‘difference that makes a difference’ (1972: 453). Finally, and most importantly, relational meaning is implicit in Mauss’s discussion of the gift. Here, objects are charged with magical power by the relationships through which they move. It is the exchange that gives the gift its meaning (see Lévi-Strauss 1987a [1950]). The advantage of reducing meaningful systems to structures of contrasts is that the flow of time within the system is frozen. Living language is reduced to a static grammar. The confusing enactment of kinship in practice is reduced to a lucid, formal structure. Roughly, structuralist analysis consists, first, in unearthing this structure; second, in deducing its underlying principles — its ‘logic’; and finally, in arriving at a universal ‘logic of logics’ of human communication. The technicalities of this process need not concern us here, but we shall briefly outline how it was expressed in The Elementary Structures of Kinship. Structural-functionalism’s reputation rested to a great extent on its analyses of segmentary lineage systems, which seemed to prove beyond reasonable doubt the role of kinship as the prime organizational principle in tribal societies. Lineage theory, in turn, presupposed a primary emphasis on linear kin relationships (grandfather-father-son), while lateral relationships (husband-wife, sibling-sibling) were often downplayed. All of this was upset by Elementary Structures. In Lévi-Strauss’s view, kinship was not primarily a mode of social organisation, but a meaningful system, a system of relationships and the primary relationship was not the ‘natural’ bond of blood (parent-child), but the socially constructed bond between husband and wife. Marriage is the point of indeterminacy in biological kinship — you cannot choose your parents, but you must choose your spouse. For Lévi-Strauss, this choice is the fissure through which culture enters kinship, transforming tribal society from biology to culture. Clearly, the integrity of this choice must be safeguarded. It must not appear to be determined by nature. You must not marry your siblings; they are ‘too close’, ‘too natural’, it would be too much like marrying yourself. It would do nothing to ‘open up’ your world, to give it meaning by relating it to something else. In marriage, as practiced in tribal societies, women are exchanged between groups of men, and a meaningful relationship is formed between these groups — a lateral kin relationship which Lévi-Strauss refers to as an alliance. From this, the logic of kinship is deduced — that is from lateral, rather than linear, kin relations. The result is a theory diametrically opposed to lineage theory, that places alliance above descent, contrast above continuity, arbitration above norms, meaning above organisation. In a rather brisk letter written near the end of his life, Radcliffe-Brown told the Frenchman that they would probably always talk past each other. Still, Lévi-Strauss expresses more respect for Radcliffe-Brown than for Malinowski, ‘for whom culture is merely a gigantic metaphor for digestion’ (Lévi-Strauss 1985). Radcliffe-Brown and Lévi-Strauss had a common interest in uncovering the hidden structures that governed thought and social life, and a common ancestor in Durkheim — and though they belonged to very different segments of his line age, well, blood (to give Radcliffe-Brown the last word) is thicker than water. Lévi-Strauss’s further writings are hard to summarize. His books are long, erudite, packed with facts, and held together by some very sophisticated, and at times very technical, thinking. Thus, Le Totémisme aujourd ’h ui (1961; Totemism, 1963b) seems to be a discussion of the concept of totemism (which is debunked), but it is also (among other things) a highly

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ambiguous critique of the Western opposition of nature and culture. La Pensée sauvage (1962; The Savage Mind , 1966) discusses a fairly standard ‘ primitive’ vs. ‘modern’ dichotomy, reminiscent of Durkheim, Weber or Tönnies, but starts with an inventory of the detailed knowledge that ‘ primitives’ have of their natural surroundings, and ends with a critique of Sartre’s theory of history. Earlier, ‘The science of the concrete’, Lévi-Strauss establishes the basis of ‘savage’ or ‘mythical’ (in contrast to ‘modern’ or ’scientific’) thought. Both are equally complex and equally rational, but their governing rationalities differ. The bricoleur starts with the world that is directly accessible to his senses. He relates the objects found in this world to each other, and builds structures of meaning out of them, that are narrated, for example, as myths. Thus he creates structure out of events. The engineer, in contrast, creates events out of structure. He starts with a blueprint, an abstraction that the senses cannot perceive, and by manipulating it he changes the real world. The Savage Mind marks the transition from Lévi-Strauss’s ‘kinship period’ to his ‘mythology period’. The most remarkable work of this latter period is the Mythologiques, a

vast, four-volume compilation and analysis of Native American myth, published between 1967 and 1974. The sheer complexity of this work has limited its influence, just as the (relative) simplicity of The Savage Mind has made it exceedingly popular. Early Impact

Lévi-Strauss’s impact on Anglo-Saxon anthropology was limited before the 1960s, and his early work was belatedly translated into English. The Elementary Structures of Kinship appeared in translation only in 1969, and for a long time, the book was largely known indirectly, through an introduction written by a Dutch anthropologist — the founder of another, older structuralist school — J.P.B. Josselin de Jong (1952). In spite of the dearth of translated texts, Lévi-Strauss was from the first a controversial and influential author. In France, structuralism became an alternative to Marxism and phenomenology in the 1950s, and the impact of structuralism on general intellectual life was at least as pronounced as in anthropology. Important non-anthropologists such as Roland Barthes, Michel Foucault and Pierre Bourdieu were brought up on structuralism and eventually rebelled against it — and their rebellion was in turn noted and debated by anthropologists, who brought these authors into the canon of anthropology. In Britain, Leach was the first of the leading anthropologists to be attracted to Lévi-Strauss. Lévi-Strauss himself had commented quite extensively on kinship among the Kachin, and Leach immediately recognised the relevance of his conclusions for his own data. In structuralism, Leach discovered a sophisticated alternative to the often common sensical and pedestrian British empiricism, and in 1970, he wrote an introduction to Lévi-Strauss, which substantially increased knowledge of his work in the English-speaking world. The Oxford anthropologist Rodney Needham, who had studied with Josselin de Jong in Leiden, was another early enthusiast for Lévi-Strauss, although he had certain reservations from the beginning (Needham 1962). These were further strengthened by an unfortunate exchange with Lévi-Strauss himself, who repudiated Needham’s interpretation of his kinship theory in a strongly phrased preface to the English edition of his kinship book. Needham, for his part, continued to develop structuralist thought about classification and kinship in innovative directions, but without referring to Lévi-Strauss. Most Anglo-American anthropologists were nevertheless deeply suspicious of structuralism. They were provoked by Lévi-Strauss’s abstract models and deductive thinking. Many regarded his work as useless because it could not be tested empirically (an assessment Lévi-Strauss emphatically disagreed

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with). Lévi-Strauss’s kinship theory (often referred to as alliance theory, as opposed to structural-functionalist descent theory) was already debated in Britain during the 1950s (although misunderstandings were inevitable because of the lack of translations). Within structural-functionalism, there had been growing dissatisfaction with descent theory, which seemed to be unable to account for kinship systems that were non-unilinear. The structuralist focus on exchange and alliance seemed to have the potential tore solve these problems, since it accorded greater weight to lateral than lineal kin relationships; thus it was widely embraced by anthropologists working in societies without clear-cut unilineal descent groups. In a famous debate in the journal man, in 1959, Leach thus defended Lévi-Strauss’s views, while Fortes defended the descent model. But even Leach may have misunderstood Lévi-Strauss’s intentions, which were less sociological and more concerned with meaning than his British colleagues tended to believe. Like the formalist-substantivist controversy in economic anthropology, the debate on alliance versus descent in kinship studies slowly petered out towards the end of the 1970s. By then, there was a tendency to see the two systems as complementary (a tradition that may be followed all the way back to Morgan), and LéviStrauss himself proposed a theory of kinship that seemed to incorporate both perspectives (see Lévi-Strauss 1987b). In France, Louis Dumont (1911 – 99) developed his own brand of structuralism, by combining impulses from Lévi-Strauss with classical European sociology (Durkheim, Tönnies) into an influential theory of social integration and symbolic meaning. Dumont, who is particularly well known for his erudite study of the Indian caste system, Homo Hierarchicus (1968), posited that caste was a cultural system of classification, rather than a functional means of social organisation (a view not dissimilar to Needham ’s). He emphasised the irreducibility of Indian (Hindu) categories, in explicit opposition to political anthropologists like Barth, who had described caste in purely sociological terms, and argued that strategic actors were driven by the same kinds of motivations as Europeans. Still, Dumont was more sociologically oriented than Lévi-Strauss, and his analysis emphasises the uniqueness of Indian culture, values and categories. The State of the Art in 1968

By 1968, anthropology had become a very diverse discipline. The ‘Man the Hunter ’ symposium had just been held, demonstrating the power of an ecologically oriented anthropology. The interpretive anthropology of Geertz had begun to exert its influence. Peasant studies in Latin America and the Caribbean had become a mainstay at some American departments. Barth’s radical ‘transactionalism’ (his preferred term was ‘generative process analysis’) rubbed shoulders with the creative revitalisation of structural functionalism carried out by Douglas and Turner. The rationality debate was on, formalism confronted substantivism, alliance theory confronted descent theory, while structuralism loomed on the horizon, and young radical Marxists and feminists waited in the wings for their share of the academic pie. New journals, conferences and workshops, monograph series and institutions devoted to anthropological research made important contributions to the growth and diversification of anthropology. The demographic expansion had been formidable. In 1950, a mere 22 Ph.D.s were awarded in the USA. By 1974, the number had increased to 409, a level that remained stable atleast until the mid-1990s (Givens and Jablonski 1995). However, the discipline had grown not only in complexity and size, but in its geographic dispersal. Dutch, Scandinavian, Italian

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and Spanish anthropology became part of the mainstream — in the two former cases, the Anglo-American influence was strongest; in the latter, the main impulses came from France. In several Latin American countries, notably Mexico, Brazil and Argentina, indigenous anthropologies influenced both by the Boas school, by Steward and his students, and by French anthropology, flourished and did research on both Indians and peasants. But in spite of strong non-metropolitan milieus such as Leiden and Bergen, the discipline remained centralised. In Britain, Oxford, Cambridge and London still held the reins, although Manchester was becoming a power to be reckoned with, and anthropology was taught in several other places as well. In the USA, the dispersal was greater, since the numbers were greater, but prominent universities such as Columbia, Yale, Harvard, Berkeley, Stanford, Michigan and Chicago still had the lead. In France, all roads led towards the prestigious institutions in Paris. The 1950s and 1960s also saw considerable diversification of the core areas for ethnographic research. During the 1920s and 1930s British anthropologists had expanded from the Pacific to Africa, American anthropology saw a less pronounced move from Native North America to Southand Central America. In France, both Africa and the Pacific had been important since the 1920s and, after the war, Georges Balandier further strengthened the African orientation (Balandier 1967), while Dumont and his students flocked to the Indian subcontinent and Oceania. By the 1960s, the mountaineous New Guinean highlands had become an extremely fertile area for ethnographic research, and with this change came new perspectives on gender relations, warfare, exchange and kinship. For although anthropological research may be carried out anywhere, each region tends to confront ethnographers with new questions. In spite of occasional attempts at dialogue, there was still little contact between the three dominant national traditions. As we have repeatedly pointed out in the last two chapters, research interests were frequently similar, but the theoretical approaches were sufficiently different to make direct discussion difficult. Firth and Schneider had to abandon their comparison of kinship in London and Chicago. Lévi-Strauss debunked Needham’s interpretation of his work. While Kroeber and Kluckhohn presented 162 definitions of culture, few British anthropologists had discussed the concept since Tylor. There was a lot of individual movement going on, though mostly in a westward direction: Bateson, Turner and Polany I had settled in the USA, and Lévi-Strauss spent the war there. Many others were to make the move later, particularly from Britain. The national traditions were nevertheless still relatively bounded. Language differences played their part in this. The belated translations of Lévi-Strauss delayed the acceptance of structuralism by at least a decade in most of the English-speaking world, and research published in less prestigious European vernaculars than French generally fared even worse. Throughout much of the ‘Third World’ (a term introduced into English by anthropologist Peter Worsley in 1964; in French le tiers monde had been used, with a slightly different meaning, since the 1950s), these problems were exacerbated by the lack of adequate economic resources in academia. Finally, political conflicts delayed the internationalisation of the discipline. In the former colonies, hostility was often directed at anthropology as such, thus inhibiting and sometimes even halting its spread. With decolonisation, the relationship between metropolitan institutions and their colonial counterparts was severed. In Europe two decades earlier, the Iron Curtain had effectively prevented most academic contacts between East and West. Anthropology was becoming a global discipline, as scholars increasingly started publishing in English, but even in the West, scholars in, say, Stockholm, could draw inspiration from metropolitan anthropologists, but they could also feel certain that their own work would never be read outside of Scandinavia unless they chose to publish in a foreign language. With the next chapter, we rapidly approach the present, and we begin to recognise

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research interests that are still high on the agenda at the turn of the millennium. The radical Marxism of the 1970s lies at the root of various present-day research agendas. The radical feminism of that decade has been transformed into sophisticated gender studies. Research on ethnicity in complex societies has continued, and spawned later burgeoning interest in nationalism. The new discussions of fieldwork methods that saw the light of day in the early 1970s were soon to be drawn up into wider debates on reflexivity and field ethics, which are still eliciting professional interest. On the other hand, the political awareness that was so powerful in anthropology during these years eventually receded, along with the optimistic hope that anthropological insight could change the world. Nevertheless, while anthropologists in 1968 were still grappling with problems that would soon seem outdated, several of the concerns of 1978 remained important in 2001 as well.

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C

The First Farmers

THOMAS HYLLAND ERIKSEN

In the previous chapter, we considered some of the economic implications of the end of the Ice Age in Europe. With glacial retreat, foragers pursued a more generalized economy, focusing less on large animals. This was the beginning of what Kent Flannery (1969) has called the broad-spectrum revolution. This refers to the period beginning around 15,000 b.p. in the Middle East and 12,000 b.p. in Europe, during which a wider range, or broader spectrum, of plant and animal life was hunted, gathered, collected, caught, and fished. It was revolutionary because in the Middle East it led to food production — human control over the reproduction of plants and animals. The Mesolithic

The broad-spectrum revolution in Europe includes the late Upper Paleolithic and the Mesolithic, which followed it. Again, because of the long history of European archaeology, our knowledge of the Mesolithic (particularly in southwestern Europe and the British Isles) is extensive. The Mesolithic had a characteristic tool type — the microlith (Greek for “small stone”). Of interest to us is what an abundant inventory of small and delicately shaped stone tools can tell us about the total economy and way of life of the people who made them. By 12,000 b.p., subarctic animals no longer lived in southwestern Europe. By 10,000 b.p. the glaciers had retreated to such a point that the range of hunting, gathering, and fishing populations in Europe extended to the formerly glaciated British Isles and Scandinavia. The reindeer herds had gradually retreated to the far north, with some human groups following (and ultimately domesticating) them. Europe around 10,000 b.p. was forest rather than treeless steppe and tundra — as it had been during the Upper Paleolithic. Europeans were exploiting a wider variety of resources and gearing their lives to the seasonal appearance of particular plants and animals. People still hunted, but their prey were solitary forest animals, such as the roe deer, the wild ox, and the wild pig, rather than herd species. This led to new hunting techniques: solitary stalking and trapping. The coasts and lakes of Europe and the Middle East were fished intensively. Some important Mesolithic sites are Scandinavian shell mounds — the garbage dumps of prehistoric oyster collectors. Microliths were used as fishhooks and in harpoons. Dugout canoes were used for fishing and travel. The process of preserving meat and fish by smoking and salting grew increasingly important. (Meat preservation had been less of a problem in a subarctic environment since winter snow and ice, often on the ground nine months of the year, offered convenient refrigeration.) The bow and arrow became essential for hunting waterfowl in swamps and marshes. Dogs were domesticated as retrievers by Mesolithic people (Champion and Gamble 1984). Woodworking was important in the forested environment of northern and Western Europe. Tools used by Mesolithic carpenters appear in the archaeological record: new kinds of axes, chisels, and gouges. Big-game hunting and, thereafter, Mesolithic hunting and fishing were important in

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Europe, but other foraging strategies were used by prehistoric humans in Africa and Asia. Among contemporary foragers in the tropics, gathering is the dietary mainstay (Lee 1968/1974). Although herds of big game animals were more abundant in the tropics in prehistory than they are today, gathering probably always has been at least as important as hunting for tropical foragers (Draper 1975). Generalized, broad-spectrum economies lasted about 5,000 years longer in Europe than in the Middle East. Whereas Middle Easterners had begun to cultivate plants and breed animals by 10,000 b.p., food production reached Western Europe only around 5000 b.p. (3000 b.c.e.) and northern Europe 500 years later. After 15,000 b.p., throughout the inhabited world, as the big-game supply diminished, foragers had to pursue new resources. Human attention shifted from large bodied, slow reproducers (such as mammoths) to species such as fish, mollusks, and rabbits that reproduce quickly and prolifically (Hayden 1981). This happened with the European Mesolithic. It also happened at the Japanese site of Nittano (Akazawa 1980), located on an inlet near Tokyo. Nittano was occupied several times between 6000 and 5000 b.p. by members of the Jomon culture, for which 30,000 sites are known in Japan. These broadspectrum foragers hunted deer, pigs, bears, and antelope. They also ate fish, shellfish, and plants. Jomon sites have yielded the remains of 300 species of shellfish and 180 species of edible plants (including berries, nuts, and tubers) (Akazawa and Aikens 1986). The Neolithic

The archaeologist V. Gordon Childe (1951) used the term Neolithic Revolution to describe the origin and impact of food production — plant cultivation and animal domestication. Neolithic was coined to refer to new techniques of grinding and polishing stone tools. However, the primary significance of the Neolithic was the new total economy rather than just its characteristic artifacts, which also included pottery. The transition from Mesolithic to Neolithic occurs when groups become dependent on domesticated foods (more than 50 percent of the diet). Usually this happens after a very long period of experimenting with and using domesticates as supplements to broad-spectrum foraging. The archaeological signature of Neolithic cultures (which are called Formative in the Americas) includes dependence on cultivation, sedentary (settled) life, and the use of ceramic vessels. Neolithic economies based on food production were associated with substantial changes in human lifestyles. By 12,000 b.p., the shift toward the Neolithic was under way in the Middle East (Turkey, Iraq, Iran, Syria, Jordan, and Israel). People started intervening in the reproductive cycles of plants and animals. No longer simply harvesting nature’s bounty, they grew their own food and modified the biological characteristics of the plants and animals in their diet. By 10,000 b.p., domesticated plants and animals were part of the broad spectrum of resources used by Middle Easterners. By 7500 b.p., most Middle Easterners had moved away from the broad-spectrum foraging pattern toward more specialized, Neolithic, economies based on fewer species, which were domesticates. They had become committed farmers and herders. Kent Flannery (1969) has proposed a series of eras during which the Middle Eastern transition to farming and herding took place. The era of seminomadic hunting and gathering (12,000 – 10,000 b.p.) encompasses

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the last stages of broad-spectrum foraging. This was the period just before the first domesticated plants (wheat and barley) and animals (goats and sheep) were added to the diet. Next came the era of early dry farming (of wheat and barley) and caprine domestication (10,000 – 7500 b.p.). Dry farming refers to farming without irrigation; such farming depended on rainfall. Caprine (from capra, Latin for “goat”) refers to goats and sheep, which were domesticated during this era. During the era of increased specialization in food production (7500 – 5500 b.p.), new crops were added to the diet, along with more productive varieties of wheat and barley. Cattle and pigs were domesticated. By 5500 b.p., agriculture extended to the alluvial plain of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers (Figure 11.1), where early Mesopotamians lived in walled towns, some of which grew into cities. (Recap 11.1 highlights these stages or eras in the transition to food production in the ancient Middle East.) After two million years of stone-tool making, H. sapiens was living in the Bronze Age, when metallurgy and the wheel were invented. First Farmers and Herders in the Middle East

Middle Eastern food production arose in the context of four environmental zones. From highest to lowest, they are high plateau (5,000 feet, or 1,500 meters), Hilly Flanks, piedmont steppe (treeless plain), and alluvial desert — the area watered by the Tigris and Euphrates rivers (100 – 500 feet, or 30 – 150 meters). The Hilly Flanks is a subtropical woodland zone that flanks those rivers to the north (Figure 11.1). It was once thought that food production began in oases in the alluvial desert. ( Alluvial describes rich, fertile soil deposited by rivers and streams.) This arid region was where Mesopotamian civilization arose later. Today, we know that although the world ’s first civilization (Mesopotamian) did indeed develop in this zone, irrigation, a late (7000 b.p.) invention, was necessary to farm the alluvial desert. Plant cultivation and animal domestication started not in the dry river zone but in areas with reliable rainfall. The archaeologist Robert J. Braidwood (1975) proposed instead that food production started in the Hilly Flanks, or subtropical woodland zone, where wild wheat and barley would have been most abundant (see Figure 11.1). In 1948, a team headed by Braidwood started excavations at Jarmo, an early food-producing village inhabited between 9000 and 8500 b.p., located in the Hilly Flanks. We now know, however, that there were farming villages earlier than Jarmo in zones adjacent to the Hilly Flanks. One example is Ali Kosh (Figure 11.1), a village in the foothills (piedmont steppe) of the Zagros mountains. By 9000 b.p., the people of Ali Kosh were herding goats, intensively collecting various wild plants, and harvesting wheat during the late winter and early spring (Hole, Flannery, and Neely 1969). Climate change played a role in the origin of food production (Smith 1995). The end of the Ice Age brought greater regional and local variation in climatic conditions. Lewis Binford (1968) proposed that in certain areas of the Middle East (such as the Hilly Flanks), local environments were so rich in resources that foragers could adopt sedentism — sedentary (settled) life in villages. Binford’s prime example is the widespread Natufian culture (12,500 – 10,500 b.p.), based on broad-spectrum foraging. The Natufians, who collected wild cereals and hunted gazelles, had year-round villages. They were able to stay in the same place (early villages) because they could harvest nearby wild cereals for six months.

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Donald Henry (1989, 1995) documented a climate change toward warmer, more humid conditions just before the Natufian period. This expanded the altitude range of wild wheat and barley, thus enlarging the available foraging area and allowing a longer harvest season. Wheat and barley ripened in the spring at low altitudes, in the summer at middle altitudes, and in the fall at high altitudes. As locations for their villages, the Natufians chose central places where they could harvest wild cereals in all three zones. Around 11,000 b.p., this favorable foraging pattern was threatened by a second climate change — to drier conditions. As many wild cereal habitats dried up, the optimal zone for foraging shrank. Natufian villages were now restricted to areas with permanent water. As population continued to grow, some Natufians attempted to maintain productivity by transferring wild cereals to well-watered areas, where they started cultivating. In the view of many scholars, the people most likely to adopt a new subsistence strategy, such as food production, would be those having the most trouble in following their traditional subsistence strategy (Binford 1968; Flannery 1973; Wenke 1996). Thus, those ancient Middle Easterners living outside the area where wild foods were most abundant would be the most likely to experiment and to adopt new subsistence strategies. This would have been especially true as the climate dried up. Recent archaeological finds support this hypothesis that food production began in marginal areas, such as the piedmont steppe, rather than in the optimal zones, such as the Hilly Flanks, where traditional foods were most abundant. Even today, wild wheat grows so densely in the Hilly Flanks that one person working just an hour with Neolithic tools can easily harvest a kilogram of wheat (Harlan and Zohary 1966). People would have had no reason to invent cultivation when wild grain was ample to feed them. Wild wheat ripens rapidly and can be harvested over a three-week period. According to Flannery, over that time period, a family of experienced plant collectors could harvest enough grain — 2,200 pounds (1,000 kilograms) — to feed themselves for a year. But after harvesting all that wheat, they’d need a place to put it. They could no longer maintain a nomadic lifestyle, since they’d need to stay close to their wheat. Sedentary village life thus developed before farming and herding in the Middle East. The Natufians and other Hilly Flanks foragers had no choice but to build villages near the densest stands of wild grains. They needed a place to keep their grain. Furthermore, sheep and goats came to graze on the stubble that remained after humans had harvested the grain. The fact that basic plants and animals were available in the same area also favored village life. Hilly Flanks foragers built houses, dug storage pits for grain, and made ovens to roast it. Natufian settlements, occupied year-round, show permanent architectural features and evidence for the processing and storage of wild grains. One such site is Abu Hureyra, Syria (see Figure 11.1), which was initially occupied by Natufian foragers around 11,000 to 10,500 b.p. Then it was abandoned — to be reoccupied later by food producers, between 9500 and 8000 b.p. From the Natufian period, Abu Hureyra has yielded the remains of grinding stones, wild plants, and 50,000 gazelle bones, which represent 80 percent of all the bones recovered at the site (Jolly and White 1995). Prior to domestication, the favored Hilly Flanks zone had the densest human

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population. Eventually, its excess population started to spill over into adjacent areas. Colonists from the Flanks tried to maintain their traditional broad-spectrum foraging in these marginal zones. But with sparser wild foods available, they had to experiment with new subsistence strategies. Eventually, population pressure on more limited resources forced people in the marginal zones to become the first food producers (Minford 1968; Flannery 1969). Early cultivation began as an attempt to copy, in a less favorable environment, the dense stands of wheat and barley that grew wild i n the Hilly Flanks.

The Middle East, along with certain other world areas where food production originated, is a region that for thousands of years has had a vertical economy. (Other examples include Peru and Mesoamerica — Middle America, including Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize.) A vertical economy exploits environmental zones that, although close together in space, contrast with one another in altitude, rainfall, overall climate, and vegetation (Figure 11.1). Such a close juxtaposition of varied environments allowed broad-spectrum foragers to use different resources in different seasons. Early seminomadic foragers in the Middle East had followed game from zone to zone. In winter they hunted in the piedmont steppe region, which had winter rains rather than snow and provided winter pasture for game animals 12,000 years ago. (Indeed it is still used for winter grazing by herders today.) When winter ended, the steppe dried up. Game moved up to the Hilly Flanks and high plateau country as the snow melted. Pastureland became available at higher elevations. Foragers gathered as they climbed, harvesting wild grains that ripened later at higher altitudes. Sheep and goats followed the stubble in the wheat and barley fields after people had harvested the grain. The four Middle Eastern environmental zones shown in Figure 11.1 also were tied together through trade. Certain resources were confined to specific zones. Asphalt, used as an adhesive in the manufacture of sickles, came from the steppe. Copper and turquoise sources were located in the high plateau. Contrasting environments were linked in two ways: by foragers’ seasonal migration and by trade. The movement of people, animals, and products between zones — plus population increase supported by highly productive broad-spectrum foraging — was a precondition for the emergence of food production. As they traveled between zones, people carried seeds into new habitats. Mutations, genetic recombinations, and human selection led to new kinds of wheat and barley. Some of the new varieties were better adapted to the steppe and, eventually, the alluvial desert than the wild forms had been. Genetic Changes and Domestication

What are the main differences between wild and domesticated plants? The seeds of domesticated cereals, and often the entire plant, are larger. Compared with wild plants, crops produce a higher yield per unit of area. Domesticated plants also lose their natural seed dispersal mechanisms. Cultivated beans, for example, have pods that hold together, rather than shattering as they do in the wild. Domesticated cereals have tougher connective tissue holding the seedpods to the stem. Grains of wheat, barley, and other cereals occur in bunches at the end of a stalk (Figure 11.2). The grains are attached to the stalk by an axis, plural axes. In wild cereals, this

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axis is brittle. Sections of the axis break off one by one, and a seed attached to each section falls to the ground. This is how wild cereals spread their seeds and propagate their species. But a brittle axis is a problem for people. Imagine the annoyance experienced by broadspectrum foragers as they tried to harvest wild wheat, only to have the grain fall off or be blown away. In very dry weather, wild wheat and barley ripen — their axes totally disintegrating — in just three days (Flannery 1973). The brittle axis must have been even more irritating to people who planted the seeds and waited for the harvest. But fortunately, certain stalks of wild wheat and barley happened to have tough axes. These were the ones whose seeds people saved to plant the following year. Another problem with wild cereals is that the edible portion is enclosed in a tough husk. This husk was too tough to remove with a pounding stone. Foragers had to roast the grain to make the husk brittle enough to come off. However, some wild plants happened to have genes for brittle husks. Humans chose the seeds of these plants (which would have germinated prematurely in nature) because they could be more effectively prepared for eating. People also selected certain features in animals (Smith 1995). Some time after sheep were domesticated, advantageous new phenotypes arose. Wild sheep aren’t woolly; wool coats were products of domestication. Although it’s hard to imagine, a wool coat offers protection against extreme heat. Skin temperatures of sheep living in very hot areas are much lower than temperatures on the surface of their wool. Woolly sheep, but not their wild ancestors, could survive in hot, dry alluvial lowlands. Wool had an additional advantage: its use for clothing. What are some of the differences between wild and domesticated animals? Plants got larger with domestication, while animals got smaller, probably because smaller animals are easier to control. Middle Eastern sites document changes in the horns of domesticated goats. Such change may have been genetically linked to some other desirable trait that has left no skeletal evidence behind. We’ve seen that sheep and goats were the first animals to be domesticated in the ancient Middle East, where the domestication of cattle, pigs, and other animals came later. Domestication was an ongoing process, as people kept refining and changing the traits they considered desirable in plants and animals — as they still do today through bioengineering. Different animals were domesticated at different times and in different regions. The factors that govern animal domestication are discussed further in the section “Explaining the Neolithic” later in this chapter. Food Production and the State

The shift from foraging to food production was gradual. The knowledge of how to grow crops and breed livestock didn ’t immediately convert Middle Easterners into full-time farmers and herders. Domesticated plants and animals began as minor parts of a broadspectrum economy. Foraging for fruits, nuts, grasses, grains, snails, and insects continued. Over time, Middle Eastern economies grew more specialized, geared more

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exclusively toward crops and herds. The former marginal zones became centers of the new economy and of population increase and emigration. Some of the increasing population spilled back into the Hilly Flanks, where people eventually had to intensify production by cultivating. Domesticated crops could now provide a bigger harvest than could the grains that grew wild there. Thus, in the Hilly Flanks, too, farming eventually replaced foraging as the economic mainstay. Farming colonies spread down into drier areas. By 7000 b.p., simple irrigation systems had developed, tapping springs in the foothills. By 6000 b.p., more complex irrigation techniques made agriculture possible in the arid lowlands of southern Mesopotamia. In the alluvial desert plain of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, a new economy based on irrigation and trade fueled the growth of an entirely new form of society. This was the state, a social and political unit featuring a central government, extreme contrasts of wealth, and social classes. The process of state formation is examined in the next chapter. We now understand why the first farmers lived neither in the alluvial lowlands, where the Mesopotamian state arose around 5500 b.p., nor in the Hilly Flanks, where wild plants and animals abounded. Food production began in marginal zones, such as the piedmont steppe, where people experimented at reproducing, artificially, the dense grain stands that grew wild in the Hilly Flanks. As seeds were taken to new environments, new phenotypes were favored by a combination of natural and human selection. The spread of cereal grains outside their natural habitats was part of a system of migration and trade between zones, which had developed in the Middle East during the broad-spectrum period. Food production also owed its origin to the need to intensify production to feed an increasing human population — the legacy of thousands of years of productive foraging. Other Old World Food Producers

The path from foraging to food production was one that people followed independently in at least seven world areas. As we’ll see later in this chapter, at least three were in the Americas. At least four were in the Old World. In each of these centers, people independently invented domestication, although of different sets of crops and animals. As we’ll see in more detail later in this chapter, food production also spread from the Middle East. This happened through trade; through diffusion of plants, animals, products, and information; and through the actual migration of farmers. Middle Eastern domesticates spread westward to northern Africa, including Egypt’s Nile Valley, and into Europe (Price 2000). Trade also extended eastward from the Middle East to India and Pakistan. In Egypt, an agricultural economy based on plants and animals originally domesticated in the Middle East led to a pharaonic civilization. The African Neolithic

Excavations in southern Egypt have revealed considerable complexity in its Neolithic economy and social system, along with very early pottery and cattle, which may have been domesticated locally rather than imported from the Fertile Crescent. Located in the eastern Sahara and southern Egypt, Nabta Playa is a basin that, during prehistoric summers, filled with water. Over several millennia this temporary lake attracted people who used it for social and ceremonial activities (Wendorf and Schild 2000). Nabta Playa was first occupied around

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12,000 b.p., as Africa’s summer rains moved northward, providing moisture for grasses, trees, bushes, hares, and gazelle, along with humans. The earliest settlements (11,000 – 9,300 b.p.) at Nabta were small seasonal camps of herders of domesticated cattle. (Note the very early, and perhaps independent, domestication of cattle here.) According to Wendorf and Schild (2000), Nabta Playa provides early evidence for what anthropologists have called the “African cattle complex,” in which cattle are used economically for their milk and blood, rather than killed for their meat (except on ceremonial occasions). Nabta was occupied only seasonally, as people came over from the Nile or from better-watered areas to the south. They returned to those areas in the fall. By 9000 b.p. people were living at Nabta Playa year-round. To survive in the desert, they dug large, deep wells and lived in well-organized villages, with small huts arranged in straight lines. Plant remains show they collected sorghum, millet, legumes (peas and beans), tubers, and fruits. These were wild plants, and so the economy was not fully Neolithic. By 8800 b.p. these people were making their own pottery, possibly the earliest pottery in Egypt. By 8100 b.p. sheep and goats had diffused in from the Middle East. Around 7500 b.p. new settlers occupied Nabta, whose previous inhabitants had been forced away by a major drought. The newcomers brought a more sophisticated social and ceremonial system. They sacrificed young cattle, which they buried in clay-lined and roofed chambers covered with rough stone slabs. They lined up large, unshaped stones. They also built Egypt’s earliest astronomical measuring device: a “calendar circle” used to mark the summer solstice. Nabta Playa had become a regional ceremonial center: a place where various groups gathered seasonally or occasionally to conduct ceremonies and to socialize. The existence of such centers, as well as their religious, political, and social functions, is familiar to ethnographers who have worked in Africa. Nabta seems to have been such a center for prehistoric herders who lived in southern Egypt. It probably began to function as a regional ceremonial center around 8,100 – 7,600 b.p., when various groups gathered there for ceremonial and other purposes during the summer wet season. Gathering on the northwestern shores of the summer lake, those ancient people left debris, including numerous cattle bones. At other African Neolithic sites (Edwards 2004), cattle bones are rarely numerous, which suggests that the cattle were being tapped “on the hoof ” for their milk and blood, rather than being slaughtered and eaten. The numerous cattle bones at Nabta Playa, however, suggest that its people killed cattle seasonally for ceremonial purposes. Among modern African herders, cattle, which represent wealth and political power, are rarely killed except on important ceremonial or social occasions. Nabta’s role as a regional ceremonial center is also suggested by an alignment of nine large upright stone slabs near the place where people gathered, along the northwest margin of the seasonal lake. This formation, probably dating between 7500 and 5500 b.p., recalls similarly dated large stone alignments found in Western Europe, which were built during the late Neolithic and early Bronze Age. Construction of large, complex megalithic structures requires well-organized work parties and a major effort. This suggests that some authority (religious or civil) may have been managing resources and human labor over time. The findings at Nabta Playa represent an elaborate and previously unsuspected ceremonialism, as well as social complexity, during the African Neolithic.

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The Neolithic in Europe and Asia

Around 8000 b.p., communities on Europe’s Mediterranean shores, in Greece, Italy, and France, started shifting from foraging to farming, using imported species. By 7000 b.p., there were fully sedentary farming villages in Greece and Italy. By 6000 b.p., there were thousands of farming villages as far east as Russia and as far west as northern France (see Bogaard 2004). Domestication and Neolithic economies spread rapidly across Eurasia. Archaeological research confirms the early (8000 b.p.) presence of domesticated goats, sheep, cattle, wheat, and barley in Pakistan (Meadow 1991). In that country ’s Indus River Valley, ancient cities (Harappa and Mohenjodaro) emerged slightly later than did the first Mesopotamian city-states. Domestication and state formation in the Indus Valley were influenced by developments in, and trade with, the Middle East. China was also one of the first world areas to develop farming, based on millet and rice. Millet is a tall, coarse cereal grass still grown in northern China. This grain, which today feeds a third of the world’s population, is used in contemporary North America mainly as birdseed. By 7500 b.p., two varieties of millet supported early farming communities in northern China, along the Yellow River. Millet cultivation paved the way for widespread village life and eventually for Shang dynasty civilization, based on irrigated agriculture, between 3600 and 3100 b.p. (See Chapter 12.) The northern Chinese also had domesticated dogs, pigs, and possibly cattle, goats, and sheep by 7000 b.p. (Chang 1977). Discoveries by Chinese archaeologists suggest that rice was domesticated in the Yangtze River corridor of southern China as early as 8400 b.p. (Smith 1995). Other early rice comes from the 7,000-year-old site Hemudu, on Lake Dongting in southern China. The people of Hemudu used both wild and domesticated rice, along with domesticated water buffalo, dogs, and pigs. They also hunted wild game (Jolly and White 1995). China seems to have been the scene of two independent transitions to food production, based on different crops grown in strikingly different climates. Southern Chinese farming was rice aquaculture in rich subtropical wetlands. Southern winters were mild; and summer rains, reliable. Northern China, by contrast, had harsh winters, with unreliable rainfall during the summer growing season. This was an area of grasslands and temperate forests. Still, in both areas by 7500 b.p., food production supported large and stable villages. Based on the archaeological evidence, early Chinese villagers had architectural expertise. They lived in substantial houses, made elaborate ceramic vessels, and had rich burials. At Nok Nok Tha in central Thailand, pottery made more than 5,000 years ago has imprints of husks and grains of domesticated rice (Solheim 1972/1976). Animal bones show that the people of Nok Nok Tha also had humped zebu cattle similar to those of contemporary India. Rice might have been cultivated at about the same time in the Indus River Valley of Pakistan and adjacent western India. It appears that food production arose independently at least seven times in different world areas. Figure 11.3 is a map highlighting those seven areas: the Middle East, northern China, southern China, sub-Saharan Africa, central Mexico, the south central Andes, and the

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eastern United States. A different set of major foods was domesticated, at different times, in each area, as is shown in Recap 11.2. Some grains, such as millet and rice, were domesticated more than once. Millet grows wild in China and Africa, where it became an important food crop, as well as in Mexico, where it did not. Indigenous African rice, grown only in West Africa, belongs to the same genus as Asian rice. Pigs and probably cattle were independently domesticated in the Middle East, China, and sub-Saharan Africa. Independent domestication of the dog was virtually a worldwide phenomenon, including the Western Hemisphere. We turn now to archaeological sequences in the Americas. The First American Farmers

As hunters benefiting from the abundance of big game, bands of foragers gradually spread through the Americas. As they moved, these early Americans learned to cope with a great diversity of environments. Eventually their descendants would independently invent food production, paving the way for the emergence of states based on agriculture and trade in Mexico and Peru. The most significant contrast between Old and New World food production involved animal domestication, which was much more important in the Old World than in the New World. The animals that had been hunted during the early American big-game tradition either became extinct before people could domesticate them or were not domesticable (sic). The largest animal ever domesticated in the New World (in Peru, around 4500 b.p.) was the llama. Early Peruvians and Bolivians ate llama meat and used that animal as a beast of burden (Flannery, Marcus, and Reynolds 1989). They bred the llama ’s relative, the alpaca, for its wool. Peruvians also added animal protein to their diet by raising and eating guinea pigs and ducks. The turkey was domesticated in Mesoamerica and in the southwestern United States. Lowland South Americans domesticated a type of duck. The dog is the only animal that was domesticated throughout the New World. There were no cattle, sheep, or goats in the areas where food production arose. As a result, neither herding nor the kinds of relationships that developed between herders and farmers in many parts of the Middle East, Europe, Asia, and Africa emerged in the pre-colonial Americas. The New World crops were different, although staples as nutritious as those of the Old World were domesticated from native wild plants. Three key caloric staples, major sources of carbohydrates, were domesticated by Native American farmers. Maize, or corn, first domesticated in the tropical lowlands of southwestern Mexico, became the caloric staple in Mesoamerica and Central America and eventually reached coastal Peru. The other two staples were root crops: white ( “Irish”) potatoes, first domesticated in the Andes, and manioc, or cassava, a tuber first cultivated in the South American lowlands, where other root crops such as yams and sweet potatoes also were important. Other crops added variety to New World diets and made them nutritious. Beans and squash provided essential proteins, vitamins, and minerals. Maize, beans, and squash were the basis of the Mesoamerican diet. This chapter ’s “Appreciating Anthropology” discusses how anthropologists recently have confirmed that the earliest domesticates, including squash, in the Americas are about as old as the first Old World domesticates. Food production was independently invented in at least three areas of the Americas: Mesoamerica, the eastern United States, and the south central Andes. Mesoamerica is

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discussed in detail below. Food plants known as goosefoot and marsh elder, along with the sunflower and a species of squash, were domesticated by Native Americans in the eastern United States by 4500 b.p. Those crops supplemented a diet based mainly on hunting and gathering. They never became caloric staples like maize, wheat, rice, millet, manioc, and potatoes. Eventually, maize diffused from Mesoamerica into what is now the United States, reaching both the Southwest and the eastern area just mentioned. Maize provided a more reliable caloric staple for native North American farming. Domestication of several species was under way in the south central Andes of Peru and Bolivia by 5,000 b.p. They were the potato, quinoa (a cereal grain), beans, llamas, alpacas, and guinea pigs (Smith 1995). This chapter ’s “Appreciating Anthropology” discusses how anthropologists recently have confirmed the very early domestication of squash, cotton, and peanuts in Peru. The Tropical Origins of New World Domestication

Based on microscopic evidence from early cultivated plants, New World farming began in the lowlands of South America and then spread to Central America, Mexico, and the Caribbean islands. In Chapter 4 we learned about new techniques that allow archaeologists and botanists to recover and analyze microscopic evidence from pollens, starch grains, and phytoliths (plant crystals) (Bryant 2003, 2007a). This evidence has forced revision of old assumptions, most prominently the idea that New World farming originated in upland areas, such as the highlands of Mexico and Peru. This chapter ’s “Appreciating Anthropology” reports that domesticated squash seeds from Peru date back 10,000 years. Although found in the highlands (western Andes), those seeds, along with other domesticates from that site, were not domesticated there originally. This means that domestication must have occurred even earlier, most probably in South America’s tropical lowlands. Dolores Piperno and Karen Stothert (2003) found that phytoliths from cultivated squashes and gourds are substantially larger than those from wild species. They then used phytolith size to confirm that domesticated squash and gourds (Cucurbita) were grown in coastal Ecuador between 9,000 and 10,000 years ago. According to Piperno and Deborah Pearsall (1998), farming in the tropical lowlands of Central and South America began at about the same time as food production arose in the Middle East — around 10,000 years ago. By that time, cultural groups in Panama, Peru, Ecuador, and Colombia were cultivating plants in garden plots near their homes. Between 9000 and 8000 b.p., changes in seed form and phytolith size suggest that farmers were selecting certain characteristics in their cultivated plants. By 7,000 years ago, farmers had expanded their plots into nearby forests, which they cleared using slash-and-burn techniques. By that time also, early farming ideas and techniques were diffusing from tropical lowlands into drier regions at higher elevations (Piperno and Pearsall 1998; Bryant 1999, 2003). What about maize (corn), a major New World crop, long thought to have been domesticated in the Mexican highlands? Recent molecular and genetic studies indicate that maize domestication actually took place in the lowlands of southwestern Mexico. The wild ancestor of maize is a species of teosinte (a wild grain) native to the Rio Balsas watershed of tropical southwestern Mexico (Holst, Moreno, and Piperno 2007). Evidence for the evolution of maize from its wild ancestor has yet to be found in that poorly studied region. Still, we can infer some of the likely steps in maize domestication.

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Such a process would have included increases in the number of kernels per cob, cob size, and the number of cobs per stalk (Flannery 1973). These changes would make it increasingly profitable to collect wild teosinte and eventually to plant maize. Undoubtedly, some of the mutations necessary for domesticated maize had occurred in wild teosinte before people started growing it. However, since teosinte was well adapted to its natural niche, the mutations offered no advantage and didn’t spread. But once people started harvesting wild maize intensively, they became selective agents, taking back to camp a greater proportion of plants with tough axes and cobs. These were the plants most likely to hold together during harvesting and least likely to disintegrate on the way back home. Eventually, teosinte became dependent on humans for its survival because maize lacks a natural means of dispersal — a brittle axis or cob. If humans chose plants with tough axes inadvertently, their selection of plants with soft husks must have been intentional, as was their selection of larger cobs, more kernels per cob, and more cobs per plant. A phytolith analysis of sediments from San Andrés, in the Mexican state of Tabasco, confirms the spread of maize cultivation eastward to the tropical Mexican Gulf Coast by 7300 b.p. Data from many sites now confirm that maize spread rapidly from its domestication cradle in tropical southwestern Mexico during the eighth millennium b.p. (8000 – 7001) (Bryant 2007b; Piperno 2001; Pohl et al. 2007). For example, analysis of starch grains from stone tools in Panama’s tropical lowlands confirms that maize was grown there by 7800 – 7000 b.p. (Dickau, Ranere, and Cooke 2007). During the last century, for reasons enumerated by Vaughn Bryant (2003), archaeologists tended to seek evidence for early New World farming in the highlands of Mexico and Peru. These upland areas were easy to reach and had caves and rock shelters with preserved plant remains. They also were in the vicinity of the centers of major civilizations that would eventually develop in the Mexican highlands (see Chapter 12). Decades ago, excavations in the Mexican Valleys of Tehuacan and Oaxaca (see the next section) yielded well-preserved seeds and fruits, maize kernels and cobs, fibers, and rinds. Few archaeologists sought the origin of domestication in lowland and jungle regions, which were wrongly assumed to be infertile and where plants did not preserve well (Bryant 2003). Today, the microscopic evidence says otherwise and reveals the key role of tropical lowland regions in early New World farming. The Mexican Highlands

Long before Mexican highlanders developed a taste for maize, beans, and squash, they hunted as part of a pattern of broad-spectrum foraging. Mammoth remains dated to 11,000 b.p. have been found along with spear points in the basin that surrounds Mexico City. However, small animals were more important than big game, as were the grains, pods, fruits, and leaves of wild plants. In the Valley of Oaxaca, in Mexico’s southern highlands, between 10,000 and 4000 b.p., foragers concentrated on certain wild animals — deer and rabbits — and plants — cactus leaves and fruits, and tree pods, especially mesquite (Flannery 1986). Those early Oaxacans dispersed to hunt and gather in fall and winter. But they came together in late spring and summer, forming larger groups to harvest seasonally available plants. Cactus fruits appeared in the spring. Since summer rains would reduce the fruits to mush and since birds, bats, and rodents competed for them, cactus collection required hard work by large groups of people.

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The edible pods of the mesquite, available in June, also required intensive gathering. Eventually, people started planting maize in the alluvial soils of valley floors. This was the zone where foragers traditionally had congregated for the annual spring/summer harvest of cactus fruits and mesquite pods. By 4000 b.p., a type of maize was available that provided more food than the mesquite pods did. Once that happened, people started cutting down mesquite trees and replacing them with corn fields. By 3500 b.p. in the Valley of Oaxaca, where winter frosts are absent, simple irrigation permitted the establishment of permanent villages based on maize farming. Water close to the surface allowed early farmers to dig wells right in their cornfields. Using pots, they dipped water out of these wells and poured it on their growing plants, a technique known as pot irrigation. Early permanent villages supported by farming appeared in areas of Mesoamerica where there was reliable rainfall, pot irrigation, or access to humid river bottomlands. The spread of maize farming resulted in further genetic changes, higher yields, higher human populations, and more intensive farming. Pressures to intensify cultivation led to improvements in water-control systems. New varieties of fast-growing maize eventually appeared, expanding the range of areas that could be cultivated. Increasing population and irrigation also helped spread maize farming. The advent of intensive cultivation laid the foundation for the emergence of the state in Mesoamerica — some 3,000 years later than in the Middle East, a process examined in the next chapter. Explaining The Neolithic

This section focuses on the factors that influenced the origin and spread of Neolithic economies in various world areas. (Much of this section is based on observations in Chapters 8 through 10 of Jared Diamond’s influential book Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies [1997]). Several factors had to converge to make domestication happen and to promote its spread. Most plants, and especially animals, aren’t easy — or particularly valuable — to domesticate. Thus, of some 148 large animal species that seem potentially domesticable (sic), only 14 actually have been domesticated. And a mere dozen among 200,000 known plant species account for 80 percent of the world’s farm production. Those 12 caloric staples are wheat, corn (maize), rice, barley, sorghum (millet), soybeans, potatoes, cassava (manioc), sweet potatoes, sugarcane, sugar beets, and bananas. Domestication rested on a combination of conditions and resources that had not come together previously. The development of a full-fledged Neolithic economy required settling down. Sedentism, such as that adopted by ancient Natufian hunter-gatherers, was especially attractive when several species of plants and animals were available locally for foraging and eventual domestication. The Fertile Crescent area of the Middle East had such species, along with a Mediterranean climate favorable to the origin and spread of the Neolithic economy. Among those species were several self-pollinating plants, the easiest wild plants to domesticate, including wheat, which required few genetic changes for domestication. We’ve seen that the Natufians adopted sedentism prior to farming. They lived off abundant wild grain and the animals attracted to the stubble left after the harvest. Eventually, with climate

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change, population growth, and the need for people to sustain themselves in the marginal zones, hunter-gatherers started cultivating. Compared with other world areas, the Fertile Crescent region had the largest area with a Mediterranean climate, with the highest species diversity. As we saw previously, this was an area of vertical economy and closely packed microenvironments. Such diverse terrains and habitats concentrated in a limited area offered a multiplicity of plant species, as well as goats, sheep, pigs, and cattle. The first farmers eventually domesticated several crops: two kinds of wheat, barley, lentils, peas, and chickpeas (garbanzo beans). As in Mesoamerica, where corn (supplying carbohydrate) was supplemented by squash and beans (supplying protein), the Neolithic diet of the Middle East combined caloric staples such as wheat and barley with protein-rich pulses such as lentils, peas, and chickpeas. Anthropologists once thought, erroneously, that domestication would happen almost automatically once people gained sufficient knowledge of plants and animals and their reproductive habits to figure out how to make domestication work. Anthropologists now realize that foragers have an excellent knowledge of plants, animals, and their reproductive characteristics, and that some other trigger is needed to start and sustain the process of domestication. A full-fledged Neolithic economy requires a minimal set of nutritious domesticates. Some world areas, for example, North America (north of Mesoamerica), managed independently to invent domestication, but the inventory of available plants and animals was too meager to maintain a Neolithic economy. The early domesticates — squash, sunflower, marsh elder, and goosefoot — had to be supplemented by hunting and gathering. A full Neolithic economy and sedentism did not develop in the east, southeast, and southwest of what is now the United States until maize diffused in from Mesoamerica — more than 3,000 years after the first domestication in the eastern United States. We’ve seen how the presence or absence of domesticable animals helps explain the divergent trajectories of the Eastern and Western hemispheres in that the mixed economies that developed in Eurasia and Africa never emerged in Mesoamerica. Of the world’s 14 large (over 100 pounds) successful domesticated animal species, 13 are from Eurasia, and only 1 (the llama) is from South America. Ancient Mexicans domesticated dogs and turkeys and created toy wheels, but they lacked sheep, goats, and pigs as well as the oxen or horses needed to make the wheel a viable transport option. Once the big five Eurasian animal domesticates (cow, sheep, goat, pig, horse) were introduced into Africa and the Americas, they spread rapidly. We’ve seen that detailed knowledge of plants and their reproduction is not a sufficient condition for domestication to occur. Similarly, the knowledge that animals can be tamed or kept as pets isn’t enough to produce animal domestication, because not all tamed animals can be domesticated. Just as some plants (e.g., self-pollinating annuals) are easier to domesticate than others are, so are some animals. Cattle, dogs, and pigs were so easy to domesticate that they were domesticated independently in multiple world areas. Consider some reasons why most large animal species (134 out of 148 big species) have not been domesticated. Some are finicky eaters (e.g., koalas). Others refuse to breed in captivity (e.g., vicunas). Some animals are just too nasty to domesticate (e.g., grizzly bears), and others have a tendency to panic (e.g., deer and gazelles).

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Perhaps the key factor in domestication is animal social structure. The easiest wild animals to domesticate live in hierarchical herds. Accustomed to dominance relations, they allow humans to assume superior positions in the hierarchy. Herd animals are easier to domesticate than solitary ones are. Among the latter, only cats and ferrets have been domesticated, and there’s some question about the completeness of domestication of those animals (hence the expression “It’s like herding cats”). A final factor in ease of domestication is whether a wild animal typically shares its range with others. Animals with exclusive territories (e.g., rhinoceros, African antelope) are harder to pen up with others than are animals that share their territories with other species. Geography and the Spread of Food Production

As Jared Diamond (1997, Chapter 10) observes convincingly, the geography of the Old World facilitated the diffusion of plants, animals, technology (e.g., wheels and vehicles), and information (e.g., writing). Most crops in Eurasia were domesticated just once and spread rapidly in an east-west direction. The first domesticates spread from the Middle East to Egypt, Northern Africa, Europe, India, and eventually China (which, however, also had its own domesticates, as we have seen). By contrast, there was less diffusion of American domesticates. Look at Figure 11.4 to see that Eurasia has a much broader east-west spread than does Africa or does either of the Americas, which are arranged north-south. This is important because climates are more likely to be similar moving across thousands of miles east-west than north-south. In Eurasia, plants and animals could spread more easily east-west than north-south because of common day lengths and similar seasonal variations. More radical climatic contrasts have hindered north-south diffusion. In the Americas, for example, although the distance between the cool Mexican highlands and the South American highlands is just 1,200 miles, those two similar zones are separated by a low, hot, tropical region, which supports very different plant species than the highlands. Such environmental barriers to diffusion kept the Neolithic societies of Mesoamerica and South America more separate and independent in the Americas than they were in Eurasia. It took some 3,000 years for maize to reach what is now the United States, where productive Neolithic economies eventually did develop. They were based on the cultivation of new varieties of maize adapted to a colder climate and different day lengths. In the Old World, the spread of Middle Eastern crops southward into Africa eventually was halted by climatic contrasts as well. Certain tropical crops did spread westeast in Africa, but they did not reach Southern Africa because of climatic barriers. Again and again, the geographic and climatic barriers posed by high mountains and broad deserts have slowed the spread of domesticates. In what is now the United States, for example, the eastwest spread of farming from the southeast to the southwest was slowed by the dry climates of Texas and the southern great plains. This section has examined the factors that favored and retarded the origin and spread of Neolithic economies in various world areas. Several factors combined to promote early domestication in the ancient Middle East. The first domesticates spread rapidly across Eurasia, facilitated by climatic similarities across a broad territorial expanse. In the Americas, food production spread less rapidly because of north-south contrasts. Another factor that slowed the Neolithic transition in the Americas was the lack of large animals suitable for

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domestication. Factors that explain the origin and diffusion of food production involve climate, economic adaptation, demography, and the specific attributes of plants and animals. Costs And Benefits

Food production brought advantages and disadvantages. Among the advantages were discoveries and inventions. People eventually learned to spin and weave; to make pottery, bricks, and arched masonry; and to smelt and cast metals. They developed trade and commerce by land and sea. By 5500 b.p., Middle Easterners were living in vibrant cities with markets, streets, temples, and palaces. They created sculpture, mural art, writing systems, weights, measures, mathematics, and new forms of political and social organization (Jolly and White 1995). Because it increased economic production and led to new social, scientific, and creative forms, food production is often considered an evolutionary advance. But the new economy also brought hardships. For example, food producers typically work harder than foragers do — and for a less adequate diet. Because of their extensive leisure time, foragers have been characterized as living in “the original affluent society” (Sahlins 1972). Certain foragers have survived into recent times and have been studied by anthropologists. Among foragers living in the Kalahari Desert of southern Africa, for example, only part of the group needed to hunt and gather, maybe 20 hours a week, to provide an adequate diet for the entire group. Women gathered, and adult men hunted. Their labor supported older people and children. Early retirement from the food quest was possible, and forced child labor was unknown. With food production, yields are more reliable, but people work much harder. Herds, fields, and irrigation systems need care. Weeding can require hours of arduous bending. No one has to worry about where to keep a giraffe or a gazelle, but pens and corrals are built and maintained for livestock. Trade takes men, and sometimes women, away from home, leaving burdens for those who stay behind. For several reasons, food producers tend to have more children than foragers do. This means greater childcare demands, but child labor also tends to be more needed and valued than it is among foragers. Many tasks in farming and herd work harder than foragers do — and for a less adequate diet. Because of their extensive leisure time, foragers have been characterized as living in “the original affluent society” (Sahlins 1972). Certain foragers have survived into recent times and have been studied by anthropologists. Among foragers living in the Kalahari Desert of southern Africa, for example, only part of the group needed to hunt and gather, maybe 20 hours a week, to provide an adequate diet for the entire group. Women gathered, and adult men hunted. Their labor supported older people and children. Early retirement from the food quest was possible, and forced child labor was unknown. With food production, yields are more reliable, but people work much harder. Herds, fields, and irrigation systems need care. Weeding can require hours of arduous bending. No one has to worry about where to keep a giraffe or a gazelle, but pens and corrals are built and maintained for livestock. Trade takes men, and sometimes women, away from home, leaving burdens for those who stay behind. For several reasons, food producers tend to have more children than foragers do. This means greater child care demands, but child labor also tends to be more needed and valued than it is among foragers. Many tasks in farming and herding can be done by children. The division of economic labor grows more complex, so that

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children and older people have assigned economic roles. And public health declines. Diets based on crops and dairy products tend to be less varied, less nutritious, and less healthful than foragers’ diets, which are usually higher in proteins and lower in fats and carbohydrates. With the shift to food production, the physical well-being of the population often declines. Communicable diseases, protein deficiency, and dental caries increase (Cohen and Armelagos 1984). Greater exposure to pathogens comes with food production. Compared with a seminomadic foraging band, food producers tend to be sedentary. Their populations are denser, which makes it easier to transmit and maintain diseases. We saw in Chapter 5 that malaria and sickle-cell anemia spread along with food production. Population concentrations, especially cities, are breeding grounds for epidemic diseases. People live nearer to other people and animals and their wastes, which also affect public health (Diamond 1997). Compared with farmers, herders, and city dwellers, foragers were relatively disease-free, stress-free, and well nourished. Other hardships and stresses accompanied food production and the state. Social inequality and poverty increased. Elaborate systems of social stratification eventually replaced the egalitarianism of the past. Resources were no longer common goods, open to all, as they tend to be among foragers. Property distinctions proliferated. Slavery and other forms of human bondage eventually were invented. Crime, war, and human sacrifice became widespread. The rate at which human beings degraded their environments also increased with food production. The environmental degradation in today’s world, including air and water pollution and deforestation, is on a much larger scale, compared with early villages and cities, but modern trends are foreshadowed. After food production, population increase and the need to expand farming led to deforestation in the Middle East. Even today, many farmers think of trees as giant weeds to be cut down to make way for productive fields. Previously, we saw how early Mesoamerican farmers cut down mesquite trees for maize cultivation in the Valley of Oaxaca. Many farmers and herders burn trees, brush, and pasture. Farmers burn to remove weeds; they also use the ashes for fertilizer. Herders burn to promote the growth of new tender shoots for their livestock. But such practices do have environmental costs, including air pollution. Smelting and other chemical processes basic to the manufacture of metal tools also have environmental costs. As modern industrial pollution has harmful effluents, early chemical processes had byproducts that polluted air, soils, and waters. Salts, chemicals, and microorganisms accumulate in irrigated fields. These and other pathogens and pollutants, which were by and large nonissues during the Paleolithic, endanger growing human populations. To be sure, food production had benefits. But its costs are just as evident. Recap 11.3 summarizes the costs and benefits of food production. We see that progress is much too optimistic a word to describe food production, the state, and many other aspects of the evolution of society.

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D

The First Cities and States

THOMAS HYLAND ERIKSEN

The Origin Of The State

As food-producing economies spread and became more productive, chiefdoms, and eventually states, developed in many parts of the world. A state is a form of social and political organization that has a formal, central government and a division of society into classes. The first states developed in Mesopotamia by 5500 b.p. and in Mesoamerica some 3,000 years later. Chiefdoms were precursors to states, with privileged and effective leaders — chiefs — but lacking the sharp class divisions that characterize states. By 7000 b.p. in the Middle East and 3200 b.p. in Mesoamerica, there is evidence for what archaeologists call the elite level, indicating a chiefdom or a state. How and why did chiefdoms and states originate? Compared with foraging, food production could support larger and denser populations. Also, the complexity of the division of social and economic labor tended to grow as food production spread and intensified. Systems of political authority and control typically develop to handle regulatory problems encountered as the population grows and/or the economy increases in scale and diversity. Competition, including warfare, among chiefdoms for territory and resources also can stimulate state formation. Anthropologists have identified the causes of state formation and reconstructed the rise of several states. A systemic perspective recognizes that multiple factors always contribute to state formation, with the effects of one magnifying those of the others. Although some contributing factors have appeared again and again, no single one is always present. In other words, state formation has generalized rather than universal causes. Furthermore, because state formation may take centuries, people experiencing the process at any time rarely perceive the significance of the long-term changes. Later generations find themselves dependent on government institutions that took generations to develop. Hydraulic Systems

One suggested cause of state formation is the need to regulate hydraulic (water based) agricultural economies (Wittfogel 1957). In certain arid areas, such as ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, states have emerged to manage systems of irrigation, drainage, and flood control. However, hydraulic agriculture is neither a sufficient nor a necessary condition for the rise of the state. That is, many societies with irrigation never experienced state formation, and states have developed without hydraulic systems. But hydraulic agriculture does have certain implications for state formation. Water control increases production in arid lands. Because of its labor demands and its ability to feed more people, irrigated agriculture fuels population growth. This in turn leads to enlargement of the system. The expanding hydraulic system supports larger and denser concentrations of

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people. Interpersonal problems increase, and conflicts over access to water and irrigated land become more frequent. Political authorities may arise to regulate production as well as interpersonal and intergroup relations. Large hydraulic works can sustain towns and cities and become essential to their subsistence. Regulators protect the economy by mobilizing crews to maintain and repair the hydraulic system. These life-and-death functions enhance the authority of state officials. Thus, growth in hydraulic systems is often (as in Mesopotamia, Egypt, and the Valley of Mexico), but not always, associated with state formation. Long-Distance Trade Routes

Another theory is that states arise at strategic locations in regional trade networks. These sites include points of supply or exchange, such as crossroads of caravan routes, and places (e.g., mountain passes and river narrows) situated so as to threaten or halt trade between centers. Here again, however, the cause is generalized but neither necessary nor sufficient. Long-distance trade has been important in the evolution of many states, including those in Mesopotamia and Mesoamerica. Such exchange does eventually develop in all states, but it can follow rather than precede state formation. Furthermore, long-distance trade also occurs in societies such as those of Papua New Guinea, where no states developed. Population, War, and Circumscription

Robert Carneiro (1970) put forth an influential theory that incorporates three factors working together instead of a single cause of state formation. (We call a theory involving multiple factors or variables a multivariate theory.) Wherever and whenever environmental circumscription (or resource concentration), increasing population, and warfare exist,

suggested Carneiro, state formation will begin (Figure 12.1). Environmental circumscription may be physical or social. Physically circumscribed environments include small islands and, in arid areas, river plains, oases, and valleys with streams. Social circumscription exists when neighboring societies block expansion, emigration, or access to resources. When strategic resources are concentrated in limited areas — even when no obstacles to migration exist — the effects are similar to those of circumscription. Coastal Peru, one of the world’s most arid areas, illustrates the interaction of environmental circumscription, warfare, and population increase. The earliest cultivation there was limited to valleys with springs. Each valley was circumscribed by the Andes Mountains to the east, the Pacific Ocean to the west, and desert regions to the north and south. The advent of food production triggered a population increase. In each valley, villages got bigger. Colonists split off from the old villages and founded new ones. With more villages and people, a scarcity of land developed. Rivalries and raiding developed between villages in the same valley. Population pressure and land shortages were developing in all the valleys. Because the valleys were circumscribed, when one village conquered another, the losers had to submit to the winners — they had nowhere else to go. Conquered villagers could keep their land only if they agreed to pay tribute to their conquerors. To do this, they had to intensify production, using new techniques to produce more food. By working harder, they managed to pay tribute

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while meeting their own subsistence needs. Villagers brought new areas under cultivation by means of irrigation and terracing. Those early inhabitants of the Andes didn’t work harder because they chose to do so. They were forced to pay tribute, accept political domination, and intensify production by factors beyond their control. Once established, all these trends accelerated. Population grew, warfare intensified, and villages eventually were united in chiefdoms. The first states developed when one chiefdom in a valley conquered the others (Carneiro 1990). Eventually, different valleys began to fight. The winners brought the losers into growing states and empires — mature, territorially larger, and expansive systems — which eventually expanded from the coast to the highlands. By the 16th century, from their capital, Cuzco, in the high Andes, the Inca ruled one of the major empires in the tropics. Carneiro’s theory is very useful, but again, the association between population density and state organization is generalized rather than universal. States do tend to have large and dense populations (Stevenson 1968). However, population increase and warfare within a circumscribed environment did not trigger state formation in highland Papua New Guinea. Certain valleys there are socially or physically circumscribed and have population densities similar to those of many states. Warfare also was present, but no states emerged. Again, we are dealing with an important theory that explains many but not all cases of state formation. Whatever their deficiencies may be, all these theories properly look to environmental, demographic, economic, and other down-to-earth factors in particular areas to explain the origin of early states and civilizations. Some theories for the origin of the state are not nearly as plausible. This chapter ’s “Appreciating Anthropology” casts doubts on certain pseudoarchaeological theories about the emergence of civilizations, especially those in the Americas. Early states arose in different places, and for many reasons. In each case, interacting causes (often comparable ones) magnified each other ’s effects. To explain any instance of state formation, we must search for the specific changes in access to resources and in regulatory problems that fostered stratification and state machinery. We also must remember that chiefdoms and states don’t inevitably arise from food production. Another, the losers had to submit to the winners — they had nowhere else to go. Conquered villagers could keep their land only if they agreed to pay tribute to their conquerors. To do this, they had to intensify production, using new techniques to produce more food. By working harder, they managed to pay tribute while meeting their own subsistence needs. Villagers brought new areas under cultivation by means of irrigation and terracing. Those early inhabitants of the Andes didn’t work harder because they chose to do so. They were forced to pay tribute, accept political domination, and intensify production by factors beyond their control. Once established, all these trends accelerated. Population grew, warfare intensified, and villages eventually were united in chiefdoms. The first states developed when one chiefdom in a valley conquered the others (Carneiro 1990). Eventually, different valleys began to fight. The winners brought the losers into growing states and empires — mature, territorially larger, and expansive systems — which eventually expanded

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from the coast to the highlands. By the 16th century, from their capital, Cuzco, in the high Andes, the Inca ruled one of the major empires in the tropics. Carneiro’s theory is very useful, but again, the association between population density and state organization is generalized rather than universal. States do tend to have large and dense populations (Stevenson 1968). However, population increase and warfare within a circumscribed environment did not trigger state formation in highland Papua New Guinea. Certain valleys there are socially or physically circumscribed and have population densities similar to those of many states. Warfare also was present, but no states emerged. Again, we are dealing with an important theory that explains many but not all cases of state formation. Whatever their deficiencies may be, all these theories properly look to environmental, demographic, economic, and other down-to-earth factors in particular areas to explain the origin of early states and civilizations. Some theories for the origin of the state are not nearly as plausible. This chapter ’s “Appreciating Anthropology” casts doubts on certain pseudoarchaeological theories about the emergence of civilizations, especially those in the Americas. Early states arose in different places, and for many reasons. In each case, interacting causes (often comparable ones) magnified each other ’s effects. To explain any instance of state formation, we must search for the specific changes in access to resources and in regulatory problems that fostered stratification and state machinery. We also must remember that chiefdoms and states don’t inevitably arise from food production. State Formation in the Middle East

In the last chapter we saw that food production arose in the ancient Middle East around 10,000 b.p. In the ensuing process of change, the center of population growth shifted from the zone where wheat and barley grew wild (Hilly Flanks) to adjacent areas (piedmont steppe) where those grains were first domesticated. By 6000 b.p., population was increasing most rapidly in the alluvial plain of southern Mesopotamia. (Mesopotamia refers to the area between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers in what is now southern Iraq and southwestern Iran.) This growing population supported itself through irrigation and intensive river valley agriculture. By 5500 b.p. towns had grown into cities (Gates 2003). The earliest city-states were Sumer (southern Iraq) and Elam (southwestern Iran), with their capitals at Uruk (Warka) and Susa, respectively. Urban Life

The first towns arose around 10,000 years ago in the Middle East. Over the generations houses of mud brick were built and rebuilt in the same place. Substantial tells or mounds arose from the debris of a succession of such houses. The Middle East and Asia have hundreds or thousands of such mounds, only a few of which have been excavated. These sites have yielded remains of ancient community life, including streets, buildings, terraces, courtyards, wells, and other artifacts. The earliest known town was Jericho, located in what is now Israel, below sea level at a well-watered oasis a few miles northwest of the Dead Sea (Figure 12.2). From the lowest

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(oldest) level, we know that around 11,000 years ago, Jericho was first settled by Natufian foragers. Occupation continued thereafter, through and beyond biblical times, when “Joshua fought the battle of Jericho, and the walls came tumbling down” (Laughlin 2006). During the phase just after the Natufians, the earliest known town appeared. It was an unplanned, densely populated settlement with round houses and some 2,000 people. At this time, well before the invention of pottery, Jericho was surrounded by a sturdy wall with a massive tower. The wall may have been built initially as a flood barrier rather than for defense. Around 9000 b.p. Jericho was destroyed, to be rebuilt later. The new occupants lived in square houses with finished plaster floors. They buried their dead beneath their homes, a pattern seen at other sites, such as Çatal Hüyük in Turkey. Pottery reached Jericho around 8000 b.p. (Gowlett 1993). Long-distance trade, especially of obsidian, a volcanic glass used to make tools and ornaments, became important in the Middle East between 9500 and 7000 b.p. One town that prospered from this trade was Çatal Hüyük in Anatolia, Turkey (DeMarco 1997). A grassy mound 65 feet high holds the remains of this 9,000-year-old town, probably the largest settlement of the Neolithic age. Çatal Hüyük was located on a river, which deposited rich soil for crops, created a lush environment for animals, and was harnessed for irrigation by 7000 b.p. Over the mound’s 32 acres (12.9 hectares), up to 10,000 people once lived in crowded mud-brick houses packed so tight that residents entered from their roofs. Shielded by a defensive wall, Çatal Hüyük flourished between 8000 and 7000 b.p. Its individual mud-brick dwellings, rarely larger than a suburban American bedroom, had separate areas reserved for ritual and secular uses. In a given house, the ritual images (wall paintings) were placed along the walls that faced north, east, or west, but never south. That area was reserved for cooking and other domestic tasks. The ritual spaces were decorated with wall paintings, sculpted ox heads, bullhorns, and relief models of bulls and rams. The paintings showed bulls surrounded by stick figures running, dancing, and sometimes throwing stones. Vultures attacked headless humans. One frieze had human handprints painted below mounted bullhorns. These images and their placement are reminiscent of Paleolithic cave art. The dwellings at Çatal Hüyük were entered through the roof, and people had to crawl through holes from room to room, somewhat like moving between chambers in a cave. The deeper down one went, the richer the art became. The town’s spiritual life seems to have revolved around a preoccupation with animals, danger, and death, perhaps related to the site’s recent hunter-gatherer past. Two or three generations of a family were buried beneath their homes. In one dwelling, archaeologists found remains of 17 individuals, mostly children. After two or three generations of family burials, the dwelling was burned. The site was then covered with fine dirt, and a floor laid for a new dwelling. Çatal Hüyük ’s residents, though living in a town, acted independently in family groups without any apparent control by a priestly or political elite. The town never became a full-fledged city with centralized organization. Just as it lacked priests, Çatal Hüyük never had leaders who controlled or managed trade and production (Fagan 1996). Food was stored and processed not collectively but on a smaller, domestic scale (DeMarco 1997).

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The Elite Level

The first pottery (ceramics) dates back a bit more than 8,000 years, when it first reached Jericho. Before that date, the Neolithic is called the pre-pottery Neolithic. By 7000 b.p., pottery had become widespread in the Middle East. Archaeologists consider pottery shape, finishing, decoration, and type of clay as features used for dating. The geographic distribution of a given pottery style may indicate trade or alliance spanning a large area at a particular time. An early and widespread pottery style, the Halafian, was first found at Tell Halaf in the mountains of northern Syria. Halafian (7500 – 6500 b.p.) refers to a delicate ceramic style. It also describes the period during which the elite level and the first chiefdoms emerged. The low number of Halafian ceramics suggests they were luxury goods associated with a social hierarchy. By 7000 b.p. chiefdoms had emerged in the Middle East. The Ubaid period (7000 – 6000 b.p.) is named for a southern Mesopotamian pottery type first discovered at a small site, Tell el-Ubaid, located near the major city of Ur in southern Iraq. Similar pottery has been discovered in the deep levels of the Mesopotamian cities of Ur, Uruk, and Eridu. Ubaid pottery is associated with advanced chiefdoms and perhaps the earliest states. It diffused rapidly over a large area, becoming more widespread than earlier ceramic styles such as the Halafian. Social Ranking and Chiefdoms

It is easy for archaeologists to identify early states. Evidence for state organization includes monumental architecture, central storehouses, irrigation systems, and written records. In Mesoamerica, even chiefdoms are easy to detect archaeologically. Ancient Mexican chiefdoms left behind stone works, such as temple complexes and the huge carved Olmec heads (see page 272). Mesoamericans also had a penchant for marking their elites with durable ornaments and prestige goods, including those buried with chiefs and their families. Early Middle Eastern chiefs were less ostentatious in their use of material markers of prestige, making their chiefdoms somewhat harder to detect archaeologically (Flannery 1999). On the basis of the kinds of status distinctions within society, the anthropologist Morton Fried (1960) divided societies into three types: egalitarian, ranked, and stratified. An egalitarian society, most typically found among foragers, lacks status distinctions except for those based on age, gender, and individual qualities, talents, and achievements. Thus, depending on the society, adult men, elder women, talented musicians, or ritual specialists might receive special respect for their activities or knowledge. In egalitarian societies, status distinctions are not usually inherited. The child of a respected person will not receive special recognition because of his or her parent but must earn such respect. Ranked societies, in contrast, do have hereditary inequality. But they lack based on unequal access to wealth and power) stratification (sharp social divisions — strata —

into noble and commoner classes. In ranked societies, individuals tend to be ranked in terms of their genealogical distance from the chief. Closer relatives of the chief have higher rank or social status than more distant ones do. But there is a continuum of status, with many

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individuals and kin groups ranked about equally, which can lead to competition for positions of leadership. Recap 12.1 lists key features and examples of egalitarian, ranked, and stratified societies. Not all ranked societies are chiefdoms. Robert Carneiro (1991) has distinguished between two kinds of ranked societies, only the second of which is a chiefdom. In the first type, exemplified by some Indians of North America’s Pacific Northwest, there were hereditary differences in rank among individuals, but villages were independent of one another and not ranked in relation to each other. Exemplifying the second type were the Cauca of Colombia and the Natchez of the eastern United States. These ranked societies had become chiefdoms, societies in which relations among villages as well as among individuals were unequal. The smaller villages had lost their autonomy and were under the authority of leaders who lived at larger villages. According to Kent Flannery (1999), only those ranked societies with such loss of village autonomy should be called chiefdoms. In chiefdoms, there is always inequality — differences in rank — among both individuals and communities. In Mesopotamia, Mesoamerica, and Peru, chiefdoms were precursors to primary states (states that arose on their own, not through contact with other state societies — see Wright 1994). Primary states emerged from competition among chiefdoms, as one chiefdom managed to conquer its neighbors and to make them part of a larger political unit (Flannery 1995). Archaeological evidence for chiefdoms in Mesoamerica dates back more than 3,000 years. Mesoamerican chiefdoms are easy to detect archaeologically because they were flamboyant in the way they marked their aristocracy. High-status families deformed the heads of their infants and buried them with special symbols and grave goods. In burials, prestige goods show a continuum from graves with many, to less, to no precious materials, such as jade and turquoise (Flannery 1999). The first Middle Eastern states developed between 6000 and 5500 b.p. The first societies based on rank, including the first chiefdoms, emerged during the preceding 1,500 years. In the Middle East, the archaeological record of the period after 7300 b.p. reveals behavior typical of chiefdoms, including exotic goods used as markers of status, along with raiding and political instability. Early Middle Eastern chiefdoms included both the Halafian culture of northern Iraq and the Ubaid culture of southern Iraq, which eventually spread north. As in Mesoamerica, ancient Middle Eastern chiefdoms had cemeteries where chiefly relatives were buried with distinctive items: vessels, statuettes, necklaces, and high-quality ceramics. Such goods were buried with children too young to have earned prestige on their own, who happened to be born into elite families. In the ancient village of Tell es-Sawwan, infant graves show a continuum of richness from six statuettes, to three statuettes, to one statuette, to none. Such signs of slight gradations in social status are exactly what one expects in ranked societies (Flannery 1999). Such burials convince Flannery (1999) that hereditary status differences were present in the Middle East by 7000 b.p. But had the leaders of large villages extended their authority to the smaller villages nearby? Is there evidence for the loss of village autonomy, converting simple ranked societies into chiefdoms? One clue that villages were linked in political units is

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the use of a common canal to irrigate several villages. This suggests a way of resolving disputes among farmers over access to water, for example, by appeal to a strong leader. By later Halafian times in northern Mesopotamia, there is evidence for such multivillage alliances (Flannery 1999). Another clue to the loss of village autonomy is the emergence of a two-tier settlement hierarchy, with small villages clustering around a large village, especially one with public buildings. There is evidence for this pattern in northern Mesopotamia during the Halafian (Watson 1983). Advanced Chiefdoms

In northeastern Syria, near the border with Iraq, archaeologists have been excavating an ancient settlement that once lay on a major trade route. This large site, Tell Hamoukar, dates back more than 5,500 years (Wilford 2000). Its remains suggest that advanced chiefdoms arose in northern areas of the Middle East independently of the better-known citystates of southern Mesopotamia, in southern Iraq (Wilford 2000). The oldest layer yet uncovered at Tell Hamoukar contains traces of villages dating back 6,000 years. By 5700 b.p. the settlement was a prosperous town of 32 acres, enclosed by a defensive wall 10 feet (3 meters) high and 13 feet (3.9 meters) wide. The site had fine pottery and large ovens — evidence of food preparation on an institutional scale. The site has yielded pieces of large cooking pots, animal bones, and traces of wheat, barley, and oats for baking and brewing. The archaeologist McGuire Gibson, one of the excavators, believes that food preparation on this scale is evidence of a ranked society in which elites were organizing people and resources (Wilford 2000). Most likely they were hosting and entertaining in a chiefly manner. Also providing evidence for social ranking are the seals used to mark containers of food and other goods. Some of the seals are small, with only simple incisions or crosshatching. Others are larger and more elaborate, presumably for higher officials to stamp more valuable goods. Gibson suspects the larger seals with figurative scenes were held by the few people who had greater authority. The smaller, simply incised seals were used by many more people with less authority (Wilford 2000). The Rise of the State

In southern Mesopotamia at this time (5700 b.p.), an expanding population and increased food production from irrigation were changing the social landscape even more drastically than in the north. Irrigation had allowed Ubaid communities to spread along the Euphrates River. Travel and trade were expanding, with water serving as the highway system. Such raw materials as hardwood and stone, which southern Mesopotamia lacked, were imported via river routes. Population density increased as new settlements appeared. Social and economic networks now linked communities on the rivers in the south and in the foothills to the north. Settlements spread north into what is now Syria. Social differentials also increased. Priests and political leaders joined expert potters and other specialists. These nonfood producers were supported by the larger population of farmers and herders (GilmoreLehne 2000). Economies were being managed by central leadership. Agricultural villages had grown into cities, some of which were ruled by local kings. The Uruk period (6000 – 5200

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b.p.), which succeeded the Ubaid period, takes its name from a prominent southern city-state located more than 400 miles south of Tell Hamoukar (Recap 12.2). The Uruk period established Mesopotamia as “the cradle of civilization” (see Pollock 1999). Recap 12.2 highlights archaeological periods in the process of state formation in the ancient Middle East. There is no evidence of Uruk influence at Tell Hamoukar until 5200 b.p., when some Uruk pottery showed up. When southern Mesopotamians expanded north, they found advanced chiefdoms, which were not yet states. The fact that writing originated in Sumer, in southern Mesopotamia, indicates a more advanced, state-organized society there. The first writing presumably developed to handle record keeping for a centralized economy. Writing was initially used to keep accounts, reflecting the needs of trade. Rulers, nobles, priests, and merchants were the first to benefit from it. Writing had reached Egypt by 5200 b.p., probably from Mesopotamia. The earliest writing was pictographic, for example, with pictorial symbols of horses used to represent them. Early Mesopotamian scribes used a stylus (writing implement) to scrawl symbols on raw clay. This writing left a wedge-shaped impression on the clay, called cuneiform writing, from the Latin word for wedge. Both the Sumerian (southern Mesopotamia) and Akkadian (northern Mesopotamia) languages were written in cuneiform (Gowlett 1993). Writing and temples played key roles in the Mesopotamian economy. For the historic period after 5600 b.p., when writing was invented, there are temple records of economic activities. States can exist without writing, but literacy facilitates the flow and storage of information. We know that Mesopotamian priests managed herding, farming, manufacture, and trade. Temple officials allotted fodder and pastureland for cattle and donkeys, which were used as plow and cart animals. As the economy expanded, trade, manufacture, and grain storage were centrally managed. Temples collected and distributed meat, dairy products, crops, fish, clothing, tools, and trade items. Potters, metalworkers, weavers, sculptors, and other artisans perfected their crafts. Prior to the invention of metallurgy (knowledge of the properties of metals, including their extraction and processing and the manufacture of metal tools), raw copper was shaped by hammering. If copper is hammered too long, it hardens and becomes brittle, with a risk of cracking. But once heated (annealed) in a fire, copper becomes malleable again. Such annealing of copper was an early form of metallurgy. A vital step for metallurgy was the discovery of smelting, the high-temperature process by which pure metal is produced from an ore. Ores, including copper ore, have a much wider distribution than does native copper, which was initially traded as a luxury good because of its rarity (Gowlett 1993). When and how smelting was discovered is unknown. But after 5000 b.p., metallurgy evolved rapidly. The Bronze Age began when alloys of arsenic and copper, or tin and copper (in both cases known as bronze), became common and greatly extended the use of metals. Bronze flows more easily than copper does when heated to a similar temperature, so bronze was more convenient for metal casting. Early molds were carved in stone, as shaped depressions to be filled with molten metal. A copper ax cast from such a mold has been found in northern Mesopotamia and predates 5000 b.p. Thereafter, other metals came into common

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use. By 4500 b.p., golden objects were found in royal burials at Ur. Iron ore is distributed more widely than is copper ore. Iron, when smelted, can be used on its own; there is no need for tin or arsenic to make a metal alloy (bronze). The Iron Age began once high-temperature iron smelting was mastered. In the Old World after 3200 b.p., iron spread rapidly. Formerly valued as highly as gold, iron crashed in value when it became plentiful (Gowlett 1993). The Mesopotamian economy, based on craft production, trade, and intensive agriculture, spurred population growth and an increase in urbanism. Sumerian cities were protected by a fortress wall and surrounded by a farming area. By 4800 b.p., Uruk, the largest early Mesopotamian city, had a population of 50,000. As irrigation and the population expanded, communities fought over water. People sought protection in the fortified cities (Adams 1981), which defended themselves when neighbors or invaders threatened. By 4600 b.p., secular authority had replaced temple rule. The office of military coordinator developed into kingship. This change shows up architecturally in palaces and royal tombs. The palace raised armies and supplied them with armor, chariots, and metal armaments. At Ur ’s royal cemetery, by 4600 b.p. monarchs were being buried with soldiers, charioteers, and ladies in waiting. These subordinates were killed at the time of a royal burial to accompany the monarch to the afterworld. Agricultural intensification made it possible for the number of people supported by a given area to increase. Population pressure on irrigated fields helped create a stratified society. Land became scarce private property that was bought and sold. Some people amassed large estates, and their wealth set them off from ordinary farmers. These landlords joined the urban elite, while sharecroppers and serfs toiled in the fields. By 4600 b.p., Mesopotamia had a well-defined class structure, with complex stratification into nobles, commoners, and slaves. Other Early States

In northwestern India and Pakistan, the Indus River Valley (or Harappan) state, with major cities at Harappa and Mohenjodaro, takes its name from the river valley along which it extended. (Figure 12.3 maps the four great early river valley states of the Old World: Mesopotamia, Egypt, India/Pakistan, and northern China.) Trade and the spread of writing from Mesopotamia may have played a role in the emergence of the Harappan state around 4600 b.p. Located in Pakistan’s Punjab Province, the ruins of Harappa were the first to be identified as part of the Indus River Valley civilization. At its peak, the Indus River Valley state incorporated 1,000 cities, towns, and villages, spanning 280,000 square miles (725,000 square kilometers). This state flourished between 4600 and 3900 b.p. It displayed such features of state organization as urban planning, social stratification, and an early writing system, which remains undeciphered. The Harappans maintained a uniform system of weights, and their cites had carefully planned residential areas with wastewater systems. An array of products from sophisticated craft industries included ceramic vessels made on potter ’s wheels (Meadow and Kenoyer 2000). The Indus River Valley state collapsed, apparently through warfare, around 3900 b.p. Its cities became largely depopulated. Skeletons of massacre victims have been found in the

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streets of Mohenjodaro. Harappa continued to be occupied, but on a much smaller scale than previously (Meadow and Kenoyer 2000). (For more on the ongoing Harappa Archaeological Research Project, visit http://www.harappa.com.) The first Chinese state, dating to 3750 b.p., was that of the Shang dynasty. It arose in the Huang He (Yellow) River area of northern China, where wheat, rather than rice, was the dietary staple. This state was characterized by urbanism, palatial (as well as domestic) architecture, human sacrifice, and a sharp division between social classes. Burials of the aristocracy were marked by ornaments of stone, including jade. The Shang had bronze metallurgy and an elaborate writing system. In warfare they used chariots and took prisoners (Gowlett 1993). Like Mesopotamia and China, many early civilizations came to rely on metallurgy. At Nok Nok Tha in northern Thailand, metalworking goes back 6,000 years. In Peru’s Andes, whose astonishing system of suspension bridges is described in this chapter ‘s “Appreciating Diversity,” metal-working appeared around 4000 b.p. Ancient Andeans were skilled not only in using natural fibers to make bridges but also in working with bronze, copper, and gold. They are well known, too, for their techniques of pottery manufacture. Their arts, crafts, and agricultural knowledge compared well with those of Mesoamerica at its height, to which we turn after a discussion of African states. Note that both Mesoamerican and Andean state formation were truncated by Spanish conquest. The Aztecs of Mexico were conquered in 1519 c.e., and the Inca of Peru in 1532 c.e. African States

Egypt, a major ancient civilization, developed in northern Africa, as one of the world’s first states (Morkot 2005). Egyptian influence extended southward along the Nile into what is now Sudan. Sub-Saharan Africa witnessed the emergence of several states (Hooker 1996), only a few of which can be described here. As in the other world areas just discussed, metallurgy (especially iron and gold) played a role in the eventual rise of African states (Connah 2004). About 2,000 years ago, iron smelting began to diffuse rapidly throughout the continent. That spread was aided by the migrations of Bantu speakers. (Bantu is Africa’s largest linguistic family.) The Bantu migrations, launched from north-central Africa around 2100 b.p., continued for more than a thousand years. Bantu speakers migrated south into the rain forests of the Congo River and east into the African highlands. Along with their language and iron-smelting techniques, they also spread farming, particularly of high-yielding crops such as yams, bananas, and plantains. One crowning achievement of the Bantu migrations was the Mwenemutapa empire. The southeast-moving ancestors of the Mwenemutapa brought iron smelting and farming to the region called Zimbabwe, south of the Zambezi River and located within the contemporary nation of the same name. This area was rich in gold, which the Mwenemutapa mined and traded with the city of Sofala on the Indian Ocean, starting around 1000 c.e. (1000 b.p.). The Mwenemutapa developed a powerful kingdom based on trade. The first centralized state there was Great Zimbabwe ( zimbabwe means “stone enclosure”— the capital was protected by huge stone walls), which arose around 1300 c.e. (700 b.p.). By 1500, Great Zimbabwe dominated the Zambezi Valley militarily and commercially as the seat of the Mwenemutapa empire.

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Another African region where states arose, also abetted by trade, was the Sahel, the area just south of the Sahara in western Africa. Farming towns started appearing in the Sahel around 2600 b.p. One such town, Kumbi Saleh, eventually became the capital of the ancient kingdom of Ghana. West Africa was rich in gold, precious metals, ivory, and other resources, which after 750 c.e. (1250 b.p.) were traded (thanks to the camel) across the Sahara to North Africa, Egypt, and the Middle East. Cities in the Sahel served as southern terminal points for the trans-Saharan trade (e.g., of gold for salt). Several kingdoms developed in this area: Ghana, Mali, Songhay, and Kanem-Bornu, together known as the Sahelian kingdoms, of which Ghana was the first. By 1000 b.p. Ghana’s economic vitality, based on the transSaharan trade, was supporting an empire formed through the conquest of local chiefdoms, from which tribute was extracted. States also arose in the forested region of western Africa south of the Sahel. Between 1000 and 1500 c.e., local farming villages started consolidating into larger units, which eventually became centralized states. The largest and most enduring of these states was Benin, in what is now southern Nigeria. Benin, which thrived in the 15th century c.e. (600 – 500 b.p.), is known for its artistic creativity, expressed in terra-cotta, ivory, and brass sculpture. Benin art became one of the most influential African art traditions. State Formation in Mesoamerica

In the last chapter we examined the independent inventions of farming in the Middle East and Mesoamerica. The processes of state formation that took place in these areas were also comparable, beginning with ranked societies and chiefdoms, and ending with fully formed states and empires. The first monumental buildings (temple complexes) in the Western Hemisphere were constructed by Mesoamerican chiefdoms in many areas, from the Valley of Mexico to Guatemala. These chiefdoms influenced one another as they traded materials, such as obsidian, shells, jade, and pottery. (Figure 12.4 maps major sites in the emergence of Mesoamerican food production, chiefdoms, and states.) Early Chiefdoms and Elites

The Olmec built a series of ritual centers on Mexico’s southern Gulf Coast between 3,200 and 2,500 years ago. Three of these centers, each from a different century, are known. Earthen mounds were grouped into plaza complexes, presumably for religious use. Such centers show that Olmec chiefs could marshal human labor to construct such mounds. The Olmec were also master sculptors; they carved massive stone heads, perhaps as images of their chiefs or their ancestors. There is evidence, too, that trade routes linked the Olmec with other parts of Mesoamerica, such as the Oaxaca Valley in the southern highlands and the Valley of Mexico (see Figure 12.4). By 3000 b.p. a ruling elite had emerged in Oaxaca. The items traded at that time between Oaxaca and the Olmec were for elite consumption. High-status Oaxacans wore ornaments made of mussel shells from the coast. In return, the Olmec elite imported mirrors and jade made by Oaxacan artisans. Chiefdoms in Oaxaca developed canal and well irrigation, exported magnetite mirrors, and were precocious in their use of adobes (mud bricks), stucco, stone masonry, and architecture. Chiefdoms in the Olmec area farmed river

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levees, built mounds of earth, and carved colossal stone heads. The Olmec are famous for their huge carved stone heads, but other early Mexican chiefdoms also had accomplished artists and builders, using adobes and lime plaster and constructing stone buildings, precisely oriented 8 degrees north of east. The period between 3200 and 3000 b.p. was one of rapid social change in Mexico. All or almost all of Mesoamerica ’s chiefdoms were linked by trade and exchange. Many competing chiefly centers were concentrating labor power, intensifying agriculture, exchanging trade goods, and borrowing ideas, including art motifs and styles, from each other. Archaeologists now believe it was the intensity of competitive interaction — rather than the supremacy of any one chiefdom — that made social change so rapid. The social and political landscape of Mexico around 3000 b.p. was one in which 25 or so chiefly centers were (1) sufficiently separate and autonomous to adapt to local zones and conditions and (2) sufficiently interactive and competitive to borrow and incorporate new ideas and innovations as they arose in other regions (Flannery and Marcus 2000). It used to be thought that a single chiefdom could become a state on its own. Archaeologists know now that state formation involves one chiefdom’s incorporating several others into the emerging state it controls, and making changes in its own infrastructure as it acquires and holds on to new territories, followers, and goods. Warfare and attracting followers are two key elements in state formation. Recall that this chapter ’s “Appreciating Anthropology” on pp. 260 – 261 debunks popular pseudo-archaeological theories about the origin of Mesoamerican civilization. Many chiefdoms have dense populations, intensive agriculture, and settlement hierarchies that include hamlets, villages, and perhaps towns. These factors pave the way for greater social and political complexity. Political leaders emerge, and military success (in raiding) often solidifies their position. Such figures attract lots of followers, who are loyal to their leader. Warfare enables leaders to incorporate new lands and people. Success in warfare leads to states’ becoming even more densely occupied and in control of new lands. States, in contrast to chiefdoms, can acquire labor and land and hold on to them. States have armies, warfare, developed political hierarchies, law codes, and military force, which can be used in fact or as a threat. Olmec and Oaxaca were just two among many flamboyant early Mexican chiefdoms that once thrived in the area from the Valley of Mexico to Guatemala. Oaxaca went on to develop a state a bit earlier than the Teotihuacán state in the Valley of Mexico. Oaxaca and other highland areas came to overshadow the Olmec area and the Mesoamerican lowlands in general. By 2500 b.p., Oaxaca’s Zapotec people had developed a distinctive art style, perfected at their capital city of Monte Albán (see Blanton 1999; Marcus and Flannery 1996). Warfare and State Formation: The Zapotec Case

Warfare often plays a key role in primary state formation. The first Mesoamerican state, Zapotec had developed in Mexico’s Valley of Oaxaca by the start of the Common Era (c.e. — formerly a.d.). The city of Monte Albán served as capital of this Zapotec polity (political unit, such as a chiefdom or a state) for twelve hundred years, between 500 b.c.e. and 700 c.e. (The Zapotec polity was a chiefdom from ca. 500 b.c.e. to 100 b.c.e., and after that a

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state). Kent Flannery and Joyce Marcus (2003b) describe the archaeological evidence for changing warfare patterns in Oaxaca — from early raiding among sedentary villages to warfare aimed at conquest between 330 and 20 b.c.e. (formerly b.c.). The oldest defensive palisade in the Valley of Oaxaca dates to 3260 – 3160 b.p., just a few centuries after village life was established there (see Chapter 11). Over the next millennium, raiding evolved into war, with homes and temples burned, captives killed, and populations relocating to defensible hills. A monument from the site of San José Mogote, dating no later than 2510 b.p. (560 b.c.e.), is the earliest reliably dated monument with writing in Mesoamerica. It depicts a named, sacrificed captive, likely a rival chief and a probable victim of inter-village raiding. Armed conflict i n Oaxaca thus began as raiding, with killing, burning, and captive taking but no permanent acquisition of territory. By the time the Spanish conquistadors arrived in the 16th century, the Zapotec-speaking inhabitants of the Valley of Oaxaca (no longer centered at Monte Albán) had armies with noble officers and commoner foot soldiers. They waged wars that exacted tribute from conquered territories (Flannery and Marcus 2003b). The shift from raiding to warfare aimed at territorial conquest occurred prior to 300 b.c.e. This shift is documented not only by hieroglyphs but also by survey and excavation in areas that were targets of Monte Albán’s expansionistic designs. As Charles Spencer (2003) notes of Oaxaca, evidence for the earliest conquest warfare occurs simultaneously with evidence for emerging state organization. This correlation supports the idea of a causal link between conquest warfare and state formation. Long ago, Henry Wright (1977) described the state as a society with not only a centralized but also an internally specialized, administrative organization — a bureaucracy. Chiefdoms, by contrast, lack administrative specialization. States have at least four levels of decision making (Wright 1977). The center or capital establishes subsidiary administrative centers. The result is a nested lattice of secondary, tertiary, and even quaternary centers. Population size tends to follow this administrative structure: States typically have at least a four-level hierarchy of settlements according to both administrative functions and population size. Chiefdoms have no more than three levels (Spencer 2003). To expand, a state must send delegates, such as soldiers, governors, and other officials, to subjugate and rule in distant territories. Lacking a group of bureaucrats, chiefdoms can’t do this, which means that the geographic range of chiefly authority is smaller than in a state. According to Spencer (2003), the limit of a chiefdom ’s range is half a day ’s travel from its center. States, however, can transcend such limits and carry out long-distance conquests. Archaeological evidence for conquest warfare includes burned and abandoned villages, specialized forts and administrative outposts, and forced changes in the economic, social, and religious behaviors of subjugated peoples. Expansion through conquest can play a key role in the formation of a primary state by building the administrative hierarchy. Subjugation of polities in other regions, coupled with regularized tribute exaction, can bring about a transition from chiefdom to state (Spencer 2003). For such a strategy to succeed (especially when the conquered polities lie more than a half-day’s trip away), the leadership will have to dispatch agents to the conquered areas. Generals and bureaucrats are needed not only to carry out the subjugation but also to maintain long-term control and to manage tribute collection. Given its need to rely on distant

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representatives, the central leadership promotes internal administrative specialization and loyalty (and thus bureaucratic proliferation). Tribute provides new resources to support this administrative transformation. Archaeological data from Oaxaca confirm that the conquest of distant polities and bureaucratic growth were integral parts of the process of Zapotec primary state formation. Typically, state bureaucracies occupy a group of administrative buildings, especially at the capital. Surrounding the Main Plaza at Monte Albán were specialized buildings, including palaces, temples, and ball courts. Of these, the palace is an especially useful diagnostic of state organization. Hieroglyphs on a building in Monte Albán’s Main Plaza record the bringing of outlying areas under Monte Albán’s control, often by conquest. There is archaeological evidence at Cañada de Cuicatlán (a two-day walk north of Monte Albán) for Zapotec conquest around 300 b.c.e. Evidence of outright colonization has been found in the Sola Valley, a two-day walk southwest of Monte Albán. The Zapotec also claimed control of the Tututepec area on Oaxaca’s Pacific coast. Monte Albán did not expand its rule in a gradual, concentric fashion. Although it managed to subjugate distant regions to the north, west, and southwest by approximately 300 b.c.e., certain areas to the east and south managed to resist for centuries. For example, Monte Albán attacked and burned its chief local rival, San Martín Tilcajete, only a day’s travel to the south, around 330 b.c.e., but the local inhabitants refused to capitulate. They rebuilt their community and constructed defensive walls at a higher location, El Palenque. These people continued to resist Monte Albán until roughly 20 b.c.e., when they finally were conquered. Evidence for co-occurrence of Monte Albán’s conquest strategy with the emerging Zapotec state offers strong support for the expansionist model of primary state formation. That state had formed by 30 – 20 b.c.e., with a four-tier, site-size settlement hierarchy: royal palaces and two-room state temples. Monte Albán built its own secondary administrative center on a hilltop above the ruins of El Palenque (Elson 2007). After centuries of dominating the region, Monte Albán eventually lost its central role as capital. After 700 c.e., the Zapotec state dissolved into a series of smaller centers or principalities — alternately vying for supremacy through continued warfare and forming peaceful alliances through marriage (Flannery and Marcus 2003a; Marcus 1989). (Figure 12.5 locates the Valley of Oaxaca and the sites discussed here.) States in the Valley of Mexico

During the first century c.e., the Valley of Mexico, located in the highlands where Mexico City now stands, came to prominence in Mesoamerican state formation. In this large valley, Teotihuacán flourished between 1900 and 1300 b.p. (100 and 700 c.e.). The Valley of Mexico is a large basin surrounded by mountains. The valley has rich volcanic soils, but rainfall isn’t always reliable. The northern part of the valley, where the huge city and state of Teotihuacán eventually arose, is colder and drier than the south. Frosts there limited farming until quick-growing varieties of maize were developed. Until 2500 b.p., most people lived in the warmer and wetter southern part of the valley, where rainfall made farming possible. After 2500 b.p., new maize varieties and small-scale irrigation appeared. Population increased and began to spread north. By 1 c.e. Teotihuacán was a town of 10,000 people. It governed a territory of a few

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thousand square kilometers and perhaps 50,000 people (Parsons 1974). Teotihuacán’s growth reflected its agricultural potential. Perpetual springs permitted irrigation of a large alluvial plain. Rural farmers supplied food for the growing urban population. By this time, a clear settlement hierarchy had emerged. This is a ranked series of communities that differ in size, function, and building types. The settlements at the top of the hierarchy were political and religious centers. Those at the bottom were rural villages. We have seen that a four-level settlement hierarchy provides archaeological evidence of state organization (Wright and Johnson 1975). Along with state organization at Teotihuacán went large-scale irrigation, status differentiation, and complex architecture. Teotihuacán thrived between 100 and 700 c.e.. It grew as a planned city built on a grid pattern, with the Pyramid of the Sun at its center. By 500 c.e. the population of Teotihuacan had reached 130,000, making it larger than imperial Rome. Farmers were one of its diverse specialized groups, along with artisans, merchants, and political, religious, and military personnel. After 700 c.e. Teotihuacán declined in size and power. By 900 c.e. its population had shrunk to 30,000. Between 900 and 1200 c.e., the Toltec period, the population scattered, and small cities and towns sprang up throughout the valley. People also left the Valley of Mexico to live in larger cities — like Tula, the Toltec capital — on its edge (see Figure 12.4). Population increase (including immigration by the ancestors of the Aztecs) and urban growth returned to the Valley of Mexico between 1200 and 1520 c.e. During the Aztec period (1325 – 1520 c.e.) there were several cities, the largest of which — Tenochtitlán, the capital — may have surpassed Teotihuacán at its height. A dozen Aztec towns had more than 10,000 people. Fueling this population growth was intensification of agriculture, particularly in the southern part of the valley, where the drainage of lake bottoms and swamps added new cultivable land (Parsons 1976). Another factor in the renaissance of the Valley of Mexico was trade. Local manufacture created products for a series of markets. The major towns and markets were located on the lake shores, with easy access to canoe traffic. The Aztec capital stood on an island in the lake. In Tenochtitlán, the production of luxury goods was more prestigious and more highly organized than that of pottery making, basket making, and weaving. Luxury producers, such as stone workers, feather workers, and gold and silversmiths, occupied a special position in Aztec society. The manufacture of luxury goods for export was an important part of the economy of the Aztec capital (Hassig 1985; Santley 1985). Why States Collapse

States can be fragile and decomposable, falling apart along the same cleavage lines (e.g., regional political units) that were forged together to form the state originally. Various factors could threaten their economies and political institutions. Invasion, disease, famine, or prolonged drought could upset the balance. A state’s citizens might harm the environment, usually with economic costs. For example, farmers and smelters might cut down trees. Such deforestation promotes erosion and leads to a decline in the water supply. Overuse of land may deplete the soil of the nutrients needed to grow crops.

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If factors such as irrigation help create states to begin with, does their decline or failure explain the fall of the state? Irrigation does have costs as well as benefits. In ancient Mesopotamia, irrigation water came from the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. Because sediment (silt) had accumulated in those rivers, their beds were higher than the alluvial plain and fields they irrigated. Canals channeled river water as it flowed down into the fields by gravity. As the water evaporated, water-borne mineral salts remained in the fields, eventually creating a poisonous environment for plants. Mashkan-shapir, for example, was a Mesopotamian city located about 20 miles from the Tigris, to which it was connected by a network of canals. This city was abandoned just 20 years after it was settled. Destruction of its fields by mineral salts seems to have been a prime factor in its collapse (see Annenberg/CPB Exhibits 2000 at http://www.learner.org/exhibits/collapse/ mesopotamia.html). The Maya Decline

Generations of scholars have debated the decline of classic Maya civilization around 900 c.e. Classic Maya culture, featuring several competing states, flourished between 300 and 900 c.e. (1700 – 1100 b.p.) in parts of what are now Mexico, Honduras, El Salvador, Guatemala, and Belize. The ancient Maya are known for their monuments (temples and pyramids), calendars, mathematics, and hieroglyphic writing. Archaeological clues to Maya decline have been found at Copán, in western Honduras. This classic Maya royal center, the largest site in the southeastern part of the Maya area, covered 29 acres (11.7 hectares). It was built on an artificial terrace overlooking the Copán River. Its rulers inscribed their monuments with accounts of their coronation, their lineage history, and reports of important battles. The Maya dated their monuments with the names of kings and when they reigned. One monument at Copán was intended to be the ruler ’s throne platform, but only one side had been finished. The monument bears a date, 822 c.e., in a section of unfinished text. Copán has no monuments with later dates. The site probably was abandoned by 830 c.e. Environmental factors implicated in Copán’s demise may have included erosion and soil exhaustion due to overpopulation and over-farming. Over-farming contributes to deforestation and erosion. Hillside farmhouses in particular had debris from erosion — probably caused by over-farming of the hillsides. This erosion began as early as 750 c.e. — until these farm sites were abandoned, with some eventually buried by erosion debris. For the classic Maya in general, William Sanders (1972, 1973) has attributed state decline to overfarming, leading to environmental degradation through grass invasion and erosion. Food stress and malnutrition were clearly present at Copán, where 80 percent of the buried skeletons display signs of anemia, due to iron deficiency. One skull shows anemia severe enough to have been the cause of death. Even the nobility were malnourished. One noble skull, known to be such from its carved teeth and cosmetic deformation, also has telltale signs of anemia: spongy areas at its rear (Annenberg/CPB Exhibits 2000). Just as the origins of states, and their causes, are diverse, so are the reasons for state decline.

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The Maya state was not as powerful as was once assumed; it was fragile and vulnerable. Increased warfare and political competition destabilized many of its dynasties and governments. Archaeologists now stress the role of warfare in Maya state decline. Hieroglyphic texts document increased warfare among many Maya cities. From the period just before the collapse, there is archaeological evidence for increased concern with fortifications (moats, ditches, walls, and palisades) and moving to defensible locations. Archaeologists have evidence of the burning of structures, the projectile points from spears, and some of the bodies of those killed. Some sites were abandoned, with the people fleeing into the forests to occupy perishable huts. (Copán, as we have seen, was depopulated after 822 c.e.) Archaeologists now believe that social, political, and military upheaval and competition had as much as or more to do with the Maya decline and abandonment of cities as did natural environmental factors (Marcus, personal communication). Formerly archaeologists tended to explain state origin and decline mainly in terms of natural environmental factors, such as climate change, habitat destruction, and demographic pressure (see Weiss 2005). Archaeologists now see state origins and declines more fully — in social and political terms — because we can read the texts. And the Maya texts document competition and warfare between dynasties jockeying for position and power. Warfare was indeed a creator and a destroyer of ancient chiefdoms and states. What’s its role in our own?

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E

Museums of Anthropology or Museums as Anthropology

SUSAN M. PEARCE

During 1995 the Pitt Rivers Museum, one of the Oxford University museums, produced and marketed a surprising piece of merchandise. It sells in the ordinary way in the museum’s gift shop and it costs only 25p (approx. 15¢). The object is a standard postcard, but it depicts a selection of 14 early handwritten museum labels from the Pitt Rivers’ documentation archive. This represents an extraordinary piece of self-reflection, not least because it is cast in the form of a cheap commercial piece, intended either as a basic souvenir or as the medium for brief, open, interpersonal communication of the “ please meet the 4:30” variety. This paper is devoted to teasing out the significance of the postcard. The situation at the Pitt Rivers (and at every other museum) can be captured by the analysis given in Figure 1. This shows the sequence of events over the last century or so as a series of interrelated action sets, each of which stands in a relationship to all those which preceded it. There is a relationship between the sets, because in each segment of the sequence the objects themselves remain the same and continue to offer opportunities for re-appraisal. But each re-appraisal, numbered 2 – 4 in the figure, positions the objects differently in relation to each other and to other objects and so creates a new context with a new meaning. The relationship between the segments, following (one strand of) normal semiotic usage can be called metaphorical, in contrast to the perceived intrinsic relationship of the material within the sets. It is beyond the scope of this paper to consider the colonial societies from which the objects whose labels are shown on the postcard were taken. We shall, however, need to look at the nature of collecting, particularly the collecting represented on the Pitt Rivers card. We shall need to consider how the material has been treated curatorially within the museum; and finally we must reflect upon ironic, postmodernist, or postcolonial, activity to which the postcard belongs, and how this may strike the visiting public, who come at the end of the long line of metaphors because their contact with the material is the final segment in what has already been a long and complex sequence of events. But first, we must put all these considerations into context by glancing at the genealogy of the museum. Figure__1. Diagram Representing the Metaphorical Relationships of the Process of Material Culture from Its Own Society to that of the Museum-visiting Public 1

Indigenous community at a time when objects collected with all its own complexities and ironies: colonial society

2

The collectors and their colonial (actual or implicit lifestyle

3

Collectors’ donation to the Pitt Rivers Museums; the objects’ accession, curation and display

4

5

Contemporary selfreflecting and parodying, ironic postcolonial museum activity postcard, artist’s residence

Contemporary visitors who see the earlier displays and the contemporary irony in juxtaposition, and may buy the postcard

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The Genealogy of the Museum

Recent work based upon the social analysis of Foucault and his successors (Bennett, 1995; Hooper-Greenhill, 1992) has made us understand how the museum as an institution was part and parcel of each successive manifestation of modes of understanding, those modes which Foucault calls the episteme, during the period from about AD 1400 to the present postmodernism. This has the effect of taking special authority away from the museum, or any other institution, and replacing it with a rhetorical mode in which each museum is charged with the necessity to explain itself and make the public case for the value of whatever it thinks it has to offer. The truth of these assertions, however, does not detract from the “objective” fact of the weight of history which such institutions embody. Since we are, individually and collectively, endowed with the power to experience and to remember experience, no matter how much this is rewritten in the process, we cannot escape the accumulation of past context which creates present character. For museums, the basis of authority is the power to arbitrate upon material culture, to decide what is “valuable” or “interesting” and what is not, to endeavor toad the former to the museum’s holdings, and to construct it into meaningful patterns, which, of course, reinforce the estimable quality of the original decisions. We should not forget that “decide” carries the sense of “to cut out, or to cut away”: the good is top-sliced and the dross finds it own level. Overall, therefore, we can perceive a cycle of / material meaning / museum as institution / power / popular respect / power / ability to define material meaning / which is self-fulfilling, and which draws its strength from cultural traits of the long term. Most of the material objects within the system have arrived there either by inheritance from earlier comparable institutions, or (the majority) by gifts from those who see themselves as holding a particular relationship with the meaningdefining institution. In this network of significancies, the Pitt Rivers has an important, indeed almost excessive, place, but in essence what it is and does is repeated in every museum of anthropology and of everything else. The Collectors

For some collectors happiness is a feeling of harmony between their private valuations of what they have gathered together and public perceptions of value, represented by exactly the cycle of institutional power which we have just outlined (although for other collectors, it is tension which provides the thrills). A range of surveys and studies (Pearce, 1995: 159 – 170; 1998) have shown how collectors privately regard their material as extensions, or even completions, of themselves. Within their inner lives they see their objects possessed of transforming power which can represent themselves to themselves, and to the outer world; collections are a way of living with chaos and turning it into sense. Figure 2 represents this process in schematic formby suggesting the major dimensions within which each individual life is led. Collections encapsulate memories and reconnect us to the momentous moments in our lives: travel, wedding, and recovery from illness. Collections order space, both literally in our homes, and figuratively in our minds, through the spatial and intellectual patterns which they assume. We love our material, but sometimes “the collection takes over ” as collectors say, and dominates our lives. We can play about with our own material as we can with few things in our lives, and decide for ourselves how to create closures. We can work through our notions of gender, and use our collections

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as a way of creating ourselves more as we would wish to be. Above all, for the purposes of this discussion, collectors can hope to give, or bequeath, their collections to accredited museums, and so achieve a material immortality which is denied to humans. This, of course, is only possible if the material is deemed by curators as being of “museum quality,” and so arises the importance of the coincidence of the public and private systems. Four named collectors are recorded in the labels on the Pitt Rivers postcard, with the dates of their donation: Dr. E.T. Wilson (1909), J.P.Mills (1928), Miss M.A. Murray (1926) and A. Combs (1907). Of the other labels, one tells us its object (the nose clip) was purchased in 1926, while the rest simply carry a description and a cultural location. Noticeably, if an object was purchased, rather than freely gifted, the original owner is not considered worthy of recall. The other collectorless objects were also, we presume, acquired in ways which deviated from the honourable norm of donation. The collectors include one obvious professional man (the doctor) and one man (Combs), who is given the honorific suffix “Esq(uire),” still a meaningful distinction in 1907 when it is likely to imply a gentleman without a profession living on his own means. We have no direct clue to Mills ’s occupational though it is likely that he was a member of one of the colonial services. One of the four is a woman, a fairly probable proportion in such a company, but she is the only member of the group who made any mark on the broader history of anthropology. Margaret Alice Murray gave much of her life to the study of European witchcraft, publishing her important The Witch-Cult in Western Europe in 1921, and her notori ous The God of the Witches and The Divine King in England in 1933 and 1936. Before and after this she was a serious Egyptologist as, as she herself says, W.M. Flinders Petrie ’s fellow-worker for many years at University College, London (Murray, 1949 [1962]: 255). In 1949 Sidgwick and Jackson published her The Splendour that Was Egypt as a volume in the famous series which included The Glory that Was Greece by J. Stodart. Her gift of the English witch bottle was a characteristic one.

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The majority of the dates on the labels cluster in the 1900s and 1920s (1907, 1909, 1909, 1926, 1926, 1928). Inspite of the fact that the watershed of the First WorldWar lies between these two decades, the mind-set of the establishment, particularly of the middleranking members of its imperial services, remained relatively little changed. These generally subscribed wholeheartedly to the traditional value system and its institutions, without noticing the self-reference this involved. The inner psychology of their collecting, therefore, coincided with the overt judgments of their society, in ways which confirmed both men and institutions. They had maintained British standards in savage parts of the world (including the savagery of darkest Sussex from whence came the witch bottle) and the trophies which they brought back as evidence of battles fought and won were accepted into the permanent collections of the most important anthropological museum in one of the two most prestigious universities in the country. Curation and Display

Once material has been received into the museum, it has achieved the official imprimatur of value and significance conveyed by the institution and its curatorial complement. It, and by inference its collectors, has joined the charmed circle of power and authority, and henceforth it will be treated in ways which make its meaning manifest, meaning which is thought of as “inherent” and “natural” but which is, in fact, a matter for deliberation and contrivance on the part of thecurators. The most intimate link between the object and the curator is the label, especially the handwritten label, which will remain physically tied to the piece as long as they both may live, and which bears the individual, and easily recognized, mark of its creator. Handwritten labels easily attain relic status, the museum’s equivalent of the nail clippings or locks of hair through which past masters in other sacred institutions are revered, and recognized as still living amongst us. Such labels become museum material in their own right, preserved as carefully as other specimens, ostensibly for the information which they contain, but in fact equally for the contact with the great men of the past which they offer and the sense of the chain of living continuity which they embody: such things are important in the construction of authority and bring consoling comfort and support to each latter-day generation of curators. The labels on the Pitt Rivers postcard are all handwritten, and show at least seven different hands. All are written in black ink which has scarcely faded at all, witness to the dim and secure conditions in which they have been kept. All are written on white cards, which in some cases have turned biscuit-coloured and started to show traces of foxing, like a preserved water colour or artist’s print might do. The labels are of various sizes and of two main shapes: round, and rectangular with the two front corners cut off to form a typical luggage label shape, redolent to the standard fittings of the contemporary pigskin suitcases which once travelled by P & O and the Blue Train. Each card is securely held within a silver-metal binding which is folded down on both side so fits edge, an operation obviously performed by one of those stamping machines which displayed its innards of rugged wheels and cogs. As Julian Walker, a museum installation artist, has so aptly remarked (personal communication), these label borders seem intended to keep the “goodness” in and infection out, a notion which the original owners of the pieces, as participants in societies where notions of purity and containment were the norm, would have understood and welcomed. Each card is also pierced with a small round hole, so that it may be secured to its object with a piece of string.

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Together, the binary star of object and label sit on display, and together they make meaning. To the viewer, the label is not the lesser of the partnership. If the label tells us that this is the rifle with which Kennedy was shot, then it is telling us to invest our attention span and ask questions like: The only rifle? Who held it? If the label simply describes the same gun as a particular make of rifle, then it will not detain most of us. There clearly is a sense in which the object comes to illustrate the label and not the other way round, just as the history of curatorship is written in the labels which practitioners have left behind them. In other words, the label, as well as the specimen, has the status of museum artefact. Of the 14 labels on the postcard, nine can be read in whole or large part. Three describe broadly medical practices in exotic parts; the rest describe witchcraft and magic and of these two are English and the rest exotic. This cultural stretch is an interesting intervention on the part of the card ’s editor; but it is justified by the museum’s collection as a whole in which European material is better represented than many people suppose. One of the medical labels reads “CHINESE hypodermic syringe home-made from thimbles etc. Pres. by A. Combs Esq. 1907”; the second has “Protecting-cap for a sore toe MARING (OLD KUKI), LAMLONG village, MANIPUR, Dse., 1927 d.d. J.P. Mills 1928 ”; and the third “S.INDIA, MADRAS, TUTICORIN Nostril clip used by Arab pearl divers in India and Ceylon to stop breathing Purch. 1926”. The texts have a staccato, dislocated feel, which appeal equally to low humour , sore toes, nostril clip, homemade from thimbles — and a nd to a taste for the exotic — Chi Chines nese, e, pea pearl rl div divers ers and MAR MARIN ING G (OL (OLD D KUK KUKI), I), LAM LAMLON LONG, G, MAN MANIP IPUR UR faraway places with strange-sounding names, wherever they maybe. Three of the witchcraft and magic labels refer to “Charm used to cause death of enem en emy, y, Is Isab abel el Is Is,, So Solo lomo monn Is Islan lands ds,,” “Worn by tr trad ader erss in sa salt lt to av aver ertt si sick ckne ness ss on th thee journey” and “ring given by Russian priest at Fort Wrangell to the uncle of Kootay, the first HAIDA devildoctor at MASSET.” We notice how specific these are in unhelpful ways, withh the wit their ir detail detailed ed rec record ord of ind indivi ividua duall and place and the complete complete lack of any serious serious exegesis of the object. This is demonstrated even more clearly by an English member of thee gr th grou oupp “‘iro ironn raz razor or ’ used by sailors for the ceremony of ‘cro cross ssing ing the line line..’ ENGLISH.” This is qui quite te incomp incomprehe rehensi nsible ble if you do not know know (as many many of the younger younger generation do not) that English ships made a ritual of crossing the Equator which Equator which involved “King Neptune” and his sailors lathering up those men (including passengers) who had not crossed crossed the line line before with with a filthy mixtur mixturee of greas greasee and oil and then shavi shaving ng them with the “razor,” in its way, an int intere eresti sting ng rite of pas passag sagee whi which ch link linkss tog togethe etherr exte ex tens nsiv ivee sa sail ilin ing, g, th thee ne need ed to sta tart rt sh shav avin ingg and mal alee ad adul ulth thoo ood. d. Ob Obvi viou ousl sly, y, si simi mila larr narratives lie behind the other, equally impenetrable, labels. The remaining two witchcraft labels have much larger texts. The first, which does not credit a donor, reads, “ Night-horse. By mounting this a member of the Mbatsav secret society gains invisibility and can travel farr at ni fa nigght ht,, kil illl an en enem emyy an andd re retu turn rn.. TI TIV V (M (MUN UNS SHI HI), ), WU WUK KARI divisn. BENUEPROV.N. NIGERIA. ” The second reads “Silve Silvered red & stoppe stoppered red bottle, said to cont co ntain ain a wi witch tch.. Ob Obta tain ined ed ab abou outt 1915 from from an old lad ladyy liv living ing in a vi villa llage ge ne near ar HOVE, HOVE, SUSSEX. She remarked ‘and they do say there be a witch in it, and if you let ‘ur out there’ll be a peck o’ trouble.’ Pres. by Miss M.A. Murray, 1926.” Both again concentrate on detailed anecdote and on the supposed consequences in primitive society which the use of the objects bring rather than upon their role role in their society. The careful rendition of the Sussex dialect is interesting and points up a common mistake

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when the relationship of Europeans in general, and British in particular, to the exotic world is discussed. Frequently “us” does not mean all British in opposition to the rest(although sometimes it does); what it often means is “we who are middle-class, educated and travelled” in opposition to an “other ” which includes both the rest of the world and the internal otherness, that is the deeply rural or industrial underclass. These two witchcraft labels are presented in exactly the same way and make the same points.The stress on location is interesting, suggesting as it does a uniqueness in time and place, which leads to assumptions that culture is a static set of institutions and beliefs that are produced by tradition rather than historical process. As Ravenhill (1988:5) (1988:5) has noted:

Throughout colonial museography there was this type of assumption that the attribution of an object to the correct indigenous category constituted in itself anexplanation. The enterprise of categorisation ultimately produced nice, neat lists of basic object types for... and restricted to... each ethnic. This packaging of material culture on an ethnic basis served in turn to reinforce the “reality” of colonially reified ethnicity. For material culture studies, the question of style became simply a matter of ethnic traits. Shelton reinforces this point with his description of the old ethnographic display at Brighton, Southern England, which combines a blackened, dimly lit exhibition space with wall cases decorated by an assortment of dark cloths, animal print wallpaper and mirrored plinths. The gallery, due to be refurbished this year, suggests a subtle ranking of cultures by the use of backdrops. Connotations of savagery produced by the animal print papers used to display the African collections, reinforce the narrative classification of peoples. African and North American collections collec tions are divided by tribal affiliation, while Asian materialis identified by nation. The exhibition therefore provokes a contrast between tribal and national cultures. Within this division, each African society is represented by specific and different manufactures — the the Yoruba by sculpture, the Hausa by domestic clothing, South and East Africa Afr ica by weapons weapons and shields. shields. Such Such an app approa roach ch enc encour ourage agess the not notion ion tha thatt material mater ial specia specializatio lizationn corre correspond spondss to specif specific ic psych psychologi ological cal dispos dispositions itions:: the notion that som somee societ societies ies are made up of religiously religiously devoted devoted artists, artists, while others others have a settled, practical and decorative flair. (1992:11 – 12). 12). Together, the labels present a range of related characteristics. They trivialize the object by their cool, anecdotal tone, and irony, superior and well-bred, is directed towards the specimen and its people. The object and its original owners are distanced away from “us” to become “them.” As Julian Walker has put it, drawing on his own experience of galleries: “So do the specimen boxes with their glass tops, the display pins, the use of filler, and the accumulations of dust in the case corners” (personal communication). The objects are wrenched out of their own social context, in which they would have made good but nonexotic sense, and recontextualized within an English early- to mid-20th-century middle-class sitting room, where they stick out like sore toes indeed. And this replacement works a sea change as profound as that dividing the northern and southern hemispheres. Distancing transmutes into objectifying, and the original owners are reified through the displacement of their things into the new setting. What is particularly true of labels is also true of the other elements in physical curation an display. displa y. Objects were often tied onto their display board boardss by crossover strings threaded through holes in the boards, suggesting capture and constraint, followed by exhibition in

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the worst sense with its obvious sado-masochist connotations. Frequently, now, the objects have been removed, but sometimes the boards still survive, like so many Turin Shrouds, with their ghostly presences visible. The boards, plinths, case manufacture, internal case layout, graphics and floor layout of cases all contribute to the making of knowledge and its protective control. The museum history of an object chronicles the construction of knowledge in which it has played a part, and the old labels, display boards, plinths and graphics are the fossils of the history of meanings. Meaning and understanding become a conglomeration of assorted biographies, of the collector, of the curator and of the object specimen itself. Laying-out has a double meaning, and the biographies are those of the dead, an image which has been seized by critics and artists, whose notions we will soon explore. The lesson learned by the Spanish museum community through the Natural History Museum at Banyoles, whose display of a 104-year-old stuffed southern African caused a threatened African boycott of the Barcelona Olympics, is not just political, immensely significant although this is; it has a deeper resonance.

Theodor Adorno (1967: 24) described museums as “the family sepulchres of works of art.” Robert Harrison (1977: 140) sees the museum as “its life, naturally ghost-like, meant for those more comfortable with ghosts, frightened by working life but not by the past. ” David Mellor, a British politician and briefly Secretary of State responsible for arts, museums and heritage, finds museums existing as “twilight zones” whose still life (a regular euphemism for “dead”) displays combine worker with terror (1989:16). The characteristic smell of the ethnographic museum, compounded of embalmed animal skins, old fabric and preserved wood, faintly spicy and faintly dusty, is the sweet stench of mummification, and curators become cemeteryhaunting necrophiliacs compelled by a dubious romantic impulse to arrested time and decay. Unfortunately, this has been particularly true of British anthropological collections, in a practical as well as a metaphysical sense. There are probably some 378 ethnographic collections in Britain (Gathercole and Clarke, 19 1979 79), ), almost almost all of them containing material mater ial of serious cultural significance (for if all objects are equal, some are certainly more equal than others). Many of these collections have remained in store for decades. Outside London, there are about 17 museum ethnography posts in the country as a whole. Equally significantly, ethnographic display galleries tend to be obvious after thoughts, occupying the poorest back galleries and separated from other history-based displays (Shelton,1992: 11). As Susan Vogel has put it: The museum communicates values in the types of programmes it chooses to present, and in the audiences it addresses, in the size of staff departments and the emphasis they are given, in the selection no objects for acquisition and more concretely in the location of displays in the building and the subtleties of lighting and label copy. None of these things is neutral. None is overt. All tell t ell the audience what to think beyond what the t he museum ostensibly is teaching. The past neglect of ethnographic collections tells its own story. (1991:47)

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Artists in Residence

The Pitt Rivers postcard belongs within what is now recognized as a “museum scene,” that is the desire (or fashion?) to create ironic comment upon the objects and the conventional way in which they are displayed by bringing some external influence to bear upon the exhibitions. Most of these outsiders have been artists, who view the collected materials as raw material for their own installations; some of the material has turned out to be very raw indeed.These artists are not old-speak iconoclasts,who think all museums should be burnt as the best way of coping with the corpses of dead yesterday; they are bricoleurs who are curious about the categories of received knowledge, which museums show more clearly perhaps than many other institutions by virtue of the physicality of their holdings and the concrete patterns into which it can be formed. They are piqued by the displayed complacency and wish to disturb settled convictions by their own individualist interventions. The first artist to do this in Britain was Eduardo Paolozzi, whose exhibition, Lost Magic Kingdoms, was shown at the Museum of Mankind (the Ethnography Department of the British Museum) in 1987, and subsequently toured nationally. At the invitation of Malcolm McLeod, curator of the department, Paolozzi spent three years investigating the 300,000 objects in store, most of which had never been displayed. His exhibition created assemblages which mimicked typical ethnographic displays by mixing categories of objects which would not normally be combined, for, as he says “for an artist, the thing of little value can be seen as immensely significant” (Malbert, 1995: 26). In McLeod’s words the mixture was “letting in previously neglected or despised areas and breaking down the division between museum objects and life” (ibid.: 25). Paolozzi was ideally cast for this project. He is one of the best collage artists of his generation, and by applying the anarchic, free-spirited methods of collage, he produced a play on the material as material, which for him was the point of the endeavour. For this, he was taken to task by critics who would have preferred a more directly political turn to the exhibition: such critics should have given more care to the exhibit ’s title. Lost Magic Kingdoms has a nostalgic flavour (did Paolozzi mean “lost to the original makers and their successors” or did he mean “lost in the museum’s storage vaults”? or both?). Magic suggests the conjuror ’s sleight of hand which produces surprises; and Magic Kingdoms has an unmistakable Disney ring. Fred Wilson, a Black artist based in New York, did take a more directly political approach. In 1990 he was asked by the Museum for Contemporary Art, Baltimore, to organize an exhibition in the city, and he chose to position it in the Maryland Historical Society, an extremely conservative institution. Wilson says that before the project he would never have dreamt of going into the place, “ but after spending some time there, t here, I realized it was not so much the objects as the way the things were placed that really offended me ” (Wilson, 1995: 27). The installation that emerged was Mining the Museum which, as Wilson says, could mean digging up something rich, or exploding myths and perceptions, or making it his (ibid.). The opening display set the emotional tone of the exhibition, with its silver globe of 18700 juxtaposed beside empty plastic display mounts labeled “Plastic display mounts made ca 187 1960s, make run known,” and its two sets of pedestals, one set with the busts of Maryland’s acknowledged heroes and the other set empty, where the busts of important Maryland

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African-Americans should have been but are, of course, unavailable. This was also the exhibition which held the now-famous case with the label “Metalwork 1793 – 1880 1880”; the case showed a group of elegant silver cups and flagons together with a pair of iron slave shackles. As Wilson says, the objects had a lot to do with each other because life does not operate in neat categories; the case has become one ofthose gestures which is obvious, but only after it has been made. Wilson followed this with an exhibition at the Seattle Art Gallery, a museum with a broad sweep of collections, which juxtaposed traditional African clothing with a businessman’s grey suit, and showed photographs of contemporary African architecture. Viewers did not realize that all the clothing was worn by Africans, or that what they took to be Los Angeles was actually Lagos. As he puts it: The interest of western museums in Africa and the Third World is only in “difference” (the exotic) and what it can offer as a way of seeing, in stark relief, the western self. Museums, it seems, are highly narcissistic institutions. They feel most comfortable either when mirroring their own values, ideas and aesthetics through western art, or when casting other cultures as dramatically different affairs. (Wilson, 1995) In his re-dressing of the Seattle late 20th-century gallery, Wilson simply moved the furniture. He placed the museum’s Mies van der Rohe tables and chairs in front of a Morris Louis painting, added a coffee table and somebooks and — presto — we we had a diorama of ‘the collector ’s home” (29). The diorama was garnished with two videos running a tape that Wilson had made of various collectors’ homes. As he points out, the recreation of an African compound or a Japanese tea-house are museum standards, and so are European period rooms “ but the spaces where much 20th-century art resides are are absent.” Here, Wilson has progressed from the straightforwardly political perception of power and dominance which a group of related objects can be made to clarify, to a sense that we are all anthropology, that all human life can be viewed with the same gaze which, therefore, acknowledges its equality. An enterprise which takes the same point, but from an even freer free-fall perspective, is the series of experiments at a t the Pitt Rivers in which, over the past decade,

artist Chris Dorsett has been joined by some 100 artists who have brought artistic license into a creative dialogue with curatorial responsibility in the museum. Dorsett believes that, while the results have sometimes been uncomfortable for all concerned, the general consensus is that they have initiated unexpected uses of humour, fantasy, factual information and political debate. A principle motif in these artist experiences was to slip a piece of contemporary art in among the museum materials on show in order to add an element of surprise to the permanent displays. So, in 19 1990 90,, Dorsett’s lime wood figure joined the exhibition called Upturned Ark. The piece showed an angel or fetus-like figure on either a long lead or a species of umbilicalcord. Fromits back sprouted what might be wings or a giant key for winding up clockwork. The figure stood in close proximity to the display of model boats and to the huge Northwest coast totem pole towards the rear of the ground-floor gallery.The exhibition Snares of Privacy in 1992 included a huge block of wax by Elizabeth Rosser, placed so that it looked as if it were on legs as one of a sequence of similar-sized display cases, also on the ground floor. The wax “case” suggests notions about the impenetrability of the standard cases, and their readiness to take the imprint of

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whoever wishes to impose upon them. It is with this decade of experiment that the labels postcard belongs.

These British and American artistic endeavours belong within a continental context which runs back to the early 1970s. Around then a number of creative artists, including Christian Boltanski, Nikolaus Lang andAnne and Patrick Poirier, became interested in what is usually translated as “securing evidence,” Spurensichering, which is a criminological term meaning “securing circumstantial evidence,” and expresses their interest in examining what constitutes evidence and why: the first exhibition of this broad group, which took place at the Kunstverein, Ham burg, in 1974, was called Spurensicherung. Their criticism of museum dialectic was expressed through a material practice of ordering objects – the point is important – just as museums do for their own purposes, rather than by discursive writing (Schneider, 1993, 1993, to which article I am indebted for information about these events). The artists employ the devices of collection, rearrangement and fictive production of human activities in the widest sense, significant because a strong narrative element infuses their practice. Around 1974 – 75 75 Nikolaus Lang, who himself comes from Oberammergau in Bavaria, arranged in boxes unlabeled objects which he had found in one isolated farmstead in the countryside nearby, previously inhabited by an immigrant Swiss family called Gotte. He had known the Gottes in his youth as marginal people, all dead by the time he “excavated” and collected the traces of their lives. In his Box from the Gotte Siblings, he prepared boxes in which were arranged animal bones, tool s, old newspapers, household items and books, together with contemporary photographs, maps and geological diagrams. The inspiration of the work was the showcases in natural and human history museums but the scientific mimicry included field work collection as well as display (Metken, 1977: 108). In the following years (1976 – 77) 77) Lang took the idea of field work into the Tuscan countryside, classifying together Palaeolithic flint artefacts, earth colours in use since Etruscan times, and contemporary erotic graffiti he found on the walls of abandoned farm houses. The hallmarks of Lang ’s approach are searching, observing, recording and reenacting traces of human activities, as part academic parody, part humanistic self-identification self-i dentification (Lang, 197 1978). 8).

Christian Boltanski is more interested in depersonalizing individual traces and objects by serializing them into anonymity. As he says: At the beginning of January

1973, I wrote to the directors of sixty-two art, history and anthropology museums suggesting they arrange an exhibition which would consist of all the available objects that a given individual has had around him during his lifetime, from handkerchiefs to cupboards. I asked them to concern themselves with such things as classification and labelling, but not with the choice of the person. They were to acquire the objects through an auction or by borrowing them from some one living in their area (it is indeed necessary that the objects, on each occasion, be obtained from the district in which they are being shown). The person concerned should always remain anonymous. Pieces of furniture as well as small objects under glass should be carefully arranged to a certain order, or in some cases a photographic inventory could be compiled. (Boltanski, 1973:n.p.) Boltanski has repeated these inventories of private belongings of anonymous people in a number of other places, including Paris, Oxford, Baden-Baden and Amsterdam and, as Schneider says: s ays:

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These individual and yet asceptically anonymous collections of personal belongings, convey the same kind of eerie feeling one might have in an imagined situation upon walking through the Victoria and Albert Museum’s 20th-century collection, suddenly being confronted with a showcase containing one’s own toothbrush, hair slide and dressing gown. (1993: 4) All these endeavours, in their different ways, are intended to subvert the museum’s dialectic by illuminating it with the beams of parody, irony and deliberate fiction. The museum is shown to be self-entranced, using “science” to create narcissistic imagesinwhich “keep off the grass ” signs are more in evidence than flowers. It becomes one fiction among m any possible. Museum Visitors And what of the last category in the metaphorical skein, the visiting and viewing public? Cases like Wilson’s incorporating silver plate and iron slave shackles cannot fail to shock the consciousness of all who see them. Similarly, when Wilson redisplayed the early 20th-century gallery in the Seattle Art Museum, he pushed all the art into one corner so that a Matisse bronze was in front ofa marble harp, a tall Giacometti in front of a de Kooning portrait and so on. This gallery was “the most disturbing, or the most engaging, to the visitors” (Wilson, 1995: 29). The clustering created a frenetic arrangement in which the individual works seemed to be struggling to breathe. When viewers asked the reason for this, says Wilson, the museum staff explained that this was the way the African and Native American collections were displayed on the floor below.We are not told what the visitors made of this explanation, but it is clearly something that they asked thequestion. Questions are less in evidence through the now considerable history of the Pitt Rivers self-examination. The Pitt Rivers is, of course (among many other things), a museum of museums in which the displays exhibit a Victorian density within a wholly Victorian building and largely Victorian museum fittings. Moreover, following the typological exhibition regime laid down as a continuing condition in Pitt River ’s original agreement with Oxford University, the material is arranged according to categories of object, not cultural origin. For the visitor, this in itself creates an unexpected appearance in which European weaving equipment, for example, is juxtaposed in the same case with similar pieces from native Africa. It seems likely that most visitors lack the formal anthropological information to understand what they are looking at anyway, so the interpolation of modern pieces of commentary probably misfires; the whole thing looks so odd that the modern installations merge into the background without remark. It may also be that the labels postcard is generally purchased at its face value, and the two witchcraft labels in the centre of it, in particular, are accepted in much the same spirit as that in which they were written. We clearly need to know more about what visitorsmake of such exhibitions and interventions. Do they see them as a breath of fresh air, which will be capable of

generating new interest and new audiences? Or are they upset and confused, unhappy to find that another supposed security has melted away? Or are they irritated by what they see as pretension on the part of self-loving poseurs, whom they would have no wish to take into

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their own lives? We do not know the answers to these questions, and shall not until the necessary information gathering projects are put in hand. We may find that, in the publics’ eyes, museums have simply offered special hospitality to yet one more privileged, selfelected group within the elitist club. Conclusion

Like all museum artefacts, therefore, the Pitt Rivers postcard (and all its friends) offers an ambivalent message. Self-reflexive museum efforts, through artists and others, may invigorate collections by showing how much magic and powerful knowledge they hold, and how exhilarating their exhibition can be. Curators are transferring some power to named artists, which is liberating in itself, and may yet take the abandonment of anonymity — one one of the easier pieces of mystification — to to the point when named designers, researchers and writers can be acknowledged in displays (Arnold, 1995: 39). This would help the review of exhibitions to be more like that of a film or a stage play, and might help to bring museum work into the critical marketplaces. But, quite possibly, the visitors may reject much of what is done because they find it not powerfully ironic, but superficial, tinny and trivial. Moreover, as the Pitt Rivers installations showed all too well, museums and their material are very powerful, with an immense capacity for the absorption of aliens; after all to turn the problematic alien into the “Other ” which supports ”Us” is, par excellence “the museum’s” art. When Wilson (1995:29) created a set of head photographs from objects made at a time when contact between races was new, he realised that they showed a subtle blending of ethnic features, making it visibly apparent that when you depict another, you inevitably end up depicting yourself. Just so, it may turn out, are the artists and their supportive curators, for subversion can only exist by admitting the real presence of the values it endeavours to undermine. Wilson called his photographic exhibition Mixed Metaphors and says that “this is the perfect metaphor for the museum itself ”: we may agree with him.

References

Adorno, T. 1967 Valery Proust Museum Prisms, London: Neville Spearman . Arnold, K. 1995 Flights of Fancy, Museums journal, 5: 39. Bennett.T. 1995 The Birth of the Museum, London: Routledge . Boltanski, C. 1973 Lists of Exhibits belonging to a woman of Baden-Baden followed by an explanatory note (exhibition catalogue). Oxford: Museum of Modern Art. Gathercole, P. and C. Clarke 1979 Survey of Oceanic Collections in Museums in the United Kingdom and Irish Republic, Paris: UNESCO.

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Harrison. J. 1977 Eccentric Spaces, New York: Avon Books. Hoeper-Greenhill, E. 1992 Museums and the Shaping of Knowkdge. London: Routledge. Lang, N. 1978 Farben Zeichen Steine (exhibition catalogue), Munich: Galerie im Lenbachhaus. Malbert, R. 1995 Artists as Curators, Museums Journal . 5: 27-29. Mellor, D. 1989 The Delirious Museum in Museology, New York: Aper-ture Foundation. Metken, G. 1977 Spurensicherung Kunst ais Anthropologie und Selbster-forschung: Fiktive Wissenschaften in der der Leutige Leutige Kunst, Cologne: DuMont. Murray, M.A. 1921 The Witch Cult in Western Western Europe. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 1933 The God of the Witches, London: Faber. 1936 The Divine King;1I England. London: Faber. 1949 The Splendour that Was Egypt. London: Sidgwick and Jackson; reprint 1962, London: New English Library. Pearce. S.M. 1995 On Collecting: An Investigation into Collecting in theEuropean Tradition, London: Routledge. 1998 Collecting in Contemparary Practice, London: Sage. Ravenhill. P. 1988 The Passive Object and the Tribal Paradigm: Colonial Museology in French West Africa. Paper presented at the Workshop on African Culture at Bellagio, May. Unpublished ms. Schneider, A. 1993 Kunst und Ethnologie, Ethno-LiJgik. May 1981, Mun- ster: 25-32. Shelton, A. 1992 The Contextualization of Culture, Anthropolo gy Today.8(5): 11•16. Vogel, S. 1991 Always True to the Object, In Our Fashion, Exhibiting Culture . I. Karp and S. Levine (eds.), Washington: Smithsonian Institution: 191-204. Wilson, F. 1995 Silent Messages, Museums Joumal , 5: 27•29.

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F

A Time to Build, A Time to Tear Down: Religion, Society and State in Contemporary Philippines

JOSE M. CRUZ, S.J.

In some Philippine towns and cities, images of Christ in his passion and death are carried through the streets during Holy Week. The images are ordinarily kept in private homes, either in storage areas or in those parts where people move about such as living rooms. People’s sense of ease in having an image of a dead person in one ’s house is rooted, I suggest, in a practice that dates from before the 16th century. When the datu (community headman) died, his remains prior to secondary burial were kept in the house of a powerful family with aspirations of installing the next datu. The ownership of images of the suffering or dead Christ, grounded partly in some ingrained memory of how to deal with a dead headman, is an act of devotion but also serves as an indicator of one ’s place in the social hierarchy. Religion shapes society even while being shape by it. The category of religion allows for a fuller understanding of society, but its use is not without risks. The phrase “Muslim Minadanao” for example, prevents an appreciation of the fact that Muslims comprise only 17% of the population of Mindanao and only 4.5% of the national population. It conjures up a Mindanao with a Muslim majority, a notion contrary to fact. Furthermore in the phrase “Muslim Mindanao,” the modifier is made to stand as a proxy for very complex socio-political realities into i nto religious categories causes a blurring of ethnic and other differences, of contradictions within highly stratified Muslim communities, and of heterodox practices in everyday Islam. Not infrequently, effective remedies elude government planners because categories they employ are inappropriate. Religion, whose role we seek to examine, does not have a permanent, immutable form. It takes on a particular form, depending on the particular historical period and the particular social context. When the context is pluralistic, contamination can occur. For example many Filipinos, who believe in the personal God of Christianity, find no inconsistency in believing as well in karma, an impersonal calculus of good and evil that belongs to another religious tradition. A believer, who lives out his religion in a pluralistic context, hears, so to, speak, many voices alongside that of his religion. Even as believers formally assent to an orthodoxy, they might be quite comfortable in accepting a variety of heterodox ideas and practices. The pluralistic context, in which religion is lived, explains how someone can move in and out of belief and unbelief, move from one particular belief to another, and move in and out of particular articulations of one’s belief. Since Filipinos live in rapidly changing social conditions, exemplified by the temporary migration of millions, we should expect changes in the forms of religion. Christianity in contemporary Philippines is in flux, as described above. It certainly penetrates both private and public spheres. But it falls short of vigorously engaging the space occupied by the formal mechanisms of civil authority.

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When the question of religion’s impact on society is raised, the People Power Revolutions, EDSA I and EDSA II, are often cited as concrete instances. Undoubtedly, the two events were laden with powerful religious symbolism. However, while religion was involved in the injection of the incumbents, it did not provide the fresh energy and the new consciousness needed to reconfigure Philippine society. As the Philippine Revolution of 1898, religion, a century later in 1986 and 2001, played a crucial role in political shifts, but not in any social revolution. The Philippine society, which religion is supposed to help transform, has had a terrible record of providing for its citizens. In the period between 1960 to the present, the population has grown from 27 million to 82 million, or at an average annual growth rate r ate of about 2.6%. Although poverty incidence has declined from 58% to 33%, 27 million still live below the poverty line, with about 10% of the labor force unemployed. More than 8 million Filipinos now hold jobs overseas, but their increased earnings and the $8 billion dollars they remit annually to the national economy are purchased at a very high social cost to themselves and their families. How do the masses perceive these social realities, and what has the Church’s record been in addressing their social concerns? In 1896, on the eve of the revolution against Spanish, brothers Teodoro and Doroteo Pansacula led successful armed uprising and later declared themselves governor and brigadier-general. When the revolution succeeded in 1898, however, they did not recognize the authority of the revolutionary government led by Aguinaldo and urged their followers to do likewise. Furthermore, they instigated the harassment of the wealthy families in the locality, whose departure they viewed as a necessary step toward the equitable distribution of property. They proposed that time had finally come “for the rich to be poor and for poor to become rich. ” While the elite in various parts of the country considered the expulsion of the Spaniards a sufficient indication that the goals of the revolution had been met, there were those who, like the two brothers, sought freedom from all sources of their oppression, indeed an abundance of all good things. The incident may be instructive when attempting to make sense of the 2004 electoral popularity, short of victory, of FPJ (Fernando Poe Junior) and of the 1998 electoral victory of Joseph Estrada. Significant difference between notwithstanding, both appeal to the masses, in the dual sense that the masses relate to them and that they consider the masses their constituency. Although the Catholic Church has withheld its support from both Esrada and FPJ, Estrada won by a huge margin and FPJ came close to winning in May 2004. When the masses make political choices at variance with the published preferences of the Catholic Church, its capacity to form society has to be reassessed. The civil disturbances of May 1, 2001, sometimes called cal led EDSA III, are instructive. In the early hours of that day, large crowds originating mainly from the blighted areas of Metro Manila attacked the presidential palace, in protest over Estrada’s ouster and detention. To the chagrin of many Church groups and NGOs that had openly supported the Estrada impeachment, many of the protesters came from areas that had been under their care for years. What the Church groups found disconcerting was not so much the fact that “their

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people” had moved over to the wrong side, but that the political action completely caught them by surprise. It was as if the Church had been out of touch with its own people. The May 1, 2001 protest may be an omen of things to come. The event revealed not only a growing desperation among the people, but also their alienation from their traditional leaders, including the Church. If the Church is unable to renew its presence among the masses and to articulate its response to their social concerns, a parting of ways may occur. Millions of Catholics even now take their cue not from Church officials but from leaders like Mike Velarde and other charismatic figures, whose links to the Church are tenuous. EDSA IV is a distinct possibility. The reason is that, when in EDSA III people went into a rampage, there were at work other players, whose social status and political agenda were not those of the masses. Sadly, EDSA III was never intended to bring about real reforms; nor could that be expected of an EDSA IV of similar character. The Church may rethink its ways, if it wishes to make a significant contribution toward the improvement of the people’s quality of life. In the Philippines, Christianity’s presence in the public sphere has typically t ypically been in a denunciatory mode, not in a constructive mode. The Church has shown itself capable of tearing things down, as it did in the ouster of morally bankrupt administrations. What it has to demonstrate is its capacity to build up, its capacity to sustain a campaign for productivity and equitability. The lack of articulation of the constructive dimension is indicated by people’s idea of what constitutes good works. If one asked an executive to say what good thing he has done lately, he probably would mention a donation made to charity. Other good acts, such as the creation of jobs, would probably not be readily seen by him as a meritorious living out of his religion. Incredible though it may seem, the average declared annual income of medical doctors inthe Philippines is Pl00,000 or about $2,000. While many doctors carry out medical missions in the slums and perform other useful service to indigent families, the moral sense that impels them to serve others in such admirable ways is somehow suspended in the computation of their taxes. There is obviously a selective application of morality, a situation that arises from the lack of effective Church teaching on social realities, beyond sexuality and family life. Almsgiving has become, for most, the quintessential good work; the reshaping of society, meanwhile, is left to other hands. As the State shows itself increasingly unable to design and carry out, a program of national reconstruction, the Church is called upon to bring its vision and its resources to the project of rebuilding the country. But while its position on family planning is well-known, its position on agrarian reform, taxation, t axation, the environment, and other important issues is not fully articulated. The Church cannot hope to bring reform in these areas without wrestling with the formal mechanism of civil authority. Should it succeed however, in awakening the considerable qualities and resources of the People, the Church would then have to grapple with the issue of its intervention in matters of State.

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Figure F-1. Flagelante (c. 1950). During Holy Week, and culminating in Good Friday, a traditional aspect of Filipino religiosity manifests itself. A penitent man has taken up a cross and borne it all the way from the province of Pampanga to a suburb of Manila. A companion companion leads him, and and from time to time applies lashes to his back. A crowd surrounds surrounds the two, with the flagelante on the ground. (ALK2, KIT Tro Tr o en mu muse seu um Ams mste terd rdam am

Figure F-2. Monument to "the Philippine Mother" (1950s). In co contra ntrast st to the the diffe iffer r ent ent patrilin triline eal syste system ms of th t he Jap Japa anes ese e and the Ar Ar abs, abs, famil family y s ys tem s in Ph Phiil-ln lndo do ar ar e bilateral, op ope e n, conseq equ uence is and extended. An impor tant cons hil--lndo the relatively high osiition of of Phil high pos wome wom en. The The val v alu ue of ma m aternal po p ower and succo su ccorr is is repr ese esented in this sculpture. (WP 4, K IT IT T ropen ropen museurn museurn,, A Am mst er d d am am ] The valu values es inh inhe er ent in this this im ima age trac track easilily y to the role assumed by Corazon Aqui Aquin no after the the mur der der of he her husba husband nd.. Thi This s role as "th "the e Mother of Sorro Sorrow ws" was strongly strongly pro j je ected on her by Fili Filip pin ino o r eli lig gio iosi sitty.

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Figure F-3. Magsaysay at Giant Eucharistic Mass. The President and his wife join among international dignitaries of the Roman Catholic Church. Attendees flow across the Luneta, a massive assembly space near Manila Bay, as far as the eye can see. (Ramon Magsaysay Award Foundation)

Figure F-4. President Magsaysay as Wedding Sponsor. To serve as a ritual co-parent, compadre or comadre, is a request that in the Philippines cannot be denied. The role enriches extended family ties with ritual relationships. Here, in the mid-1950s, President Magsaysay is pictured accepting one such responsibility. (Ramon Magsaysay Award Foundation)

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G

Folk Catholicism in the Philippines

FRANK LYNCH

From one point of view, the Roman Catholic Church in the Philippines may be characterized as a highly complicated bureaucracy, with levels and divisions sufficient in number and shades of distinction to boggle the mind. But this is not the peole’s view. For most Filipino Catholics — and and the word “most” immediately means the rural, the poor, and the t he poorly educated educate d — the the Catholic Church is the local simbahan, the clergy is the one or two priests they may have met but rarely approach, the hierarchy (if they are aware of it at all) is the local bishop, and the pope is probably an unknown entity.1 This is not said in alarm or disparagingly. di sparagingly. It is reported as a reasonably well-established well -established fact, and with the personal conviction that deficiencies in these matters are no cause for alarm. Balancing this general unfamiliarity with the official Church structure and its incumbents are a remarkable average frequency of attendance at mass (Lynch and Makil 1968), in an extraordinarily high place accorded the virtue of trust in God (Porio et. Al 1975, 41 – 44), 44), and a traditional year-round mixing of culture and religion that has produced the folk Catholicism of the Philippines. It is this unique blend of official Catholic ritual and belief, peninsular Spanish and Mexican additives, and the preexistent Malay base that I wish to describe in middle-distance details. I shall do this by asking, and answering, two basic questions to which any folk religion must respond, namely how does this folk system make the Filipino more religious? And in what way does it make him a better Filipino? The Concept of Folk Catholicism

Before reviewing the various ways in which the Church and Philippine culture have adapted to each other, we do well to look more closely at the notion of folk Catholicism. It is a term that merits accurate definition, for only if the limits of its coverage are clear will one understand why certain traiditional beliefs qualify as elements of folk Catholicism while others do not. We can begin with the statement that, in the concrete, that is, in real-life situations, one may find in any organized religion components which are officials, nonofficial, and folk, Wether the system in question be Catholicism, Protestantism, or Islam, the behavior and beliefs of its adherents will have some elements that are orthodox, others that are officially neither prescribed nor recommended but nonetheless of common occurrence, and still others that, while also unofficial, have the added note of popular or folk origin. The key to the distinction between official and nonofficial if sound in notion of of “ agreeing with an established and morally imposed standard. ” normative, in the sense of This is not to say that no unofficial or folk components will be comsidered obligatory or prescribed by the people where they are found; on the contrary, they are frquently viewed as at least as important as official elements, and sometimes as even more necesary for the

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integrity of the ritual or belief. Nnor is it to say that the officially normative will always be the total community’s ideal religious pattern. The community’s ideal will, as a matter of fact, often deviate from the official ideal, and idelas will differ, in turn, from community to community. However, we can very usefully define official Catholicism, for instance, as doctrine, ritual, and administrative organization proposed, approved, or maintained as normative by officially designated authority. “ Normative” here embraces both the prescribed and the recommended, as

distinguished from elements which are tolerated, disapproved, or demned. These latter elements constitue the nonofficial component, and are represented in the concrete by beliefs and practices which are viewed by officially designated church authority as respectively harmless, suspect, or clearly unorthodox. It is evident from this range that term “ catholicism” is applied in a different sense to the official component on the one hand, and to the unoffical on the other, and with strikingly different degrees of looseness to the categories placed under the latter component, namely the tolerated, the disapproved, and the condemned. In this broadest “sense, and to cover all categories in the continuum from prescribed to condemned, the rubric Catholicism may be taken for beliefs and practices which are either orthodox or are obliquely derived from, or manifested in the context and under the name of Catholicism, regardless of orthodoxy. Suggested continuum of concrete religious behavior

Folk

Catholicism

includes the three nonofficial categories mentioned above , but only where the belief is of popular derivation and use, and is sanctioned as traditional in the community where it obtains. This restriction reserves for separate consideration apart from folk religion

those innovations and deviations which may be incipient folk-religious elements, but have not yet won community acceptance. Returning to the official component, it should be noted that the Roman Catholic Church includes both an Eastern and a Western branch united under the Roman Pontiff. While prescribed belief and the essential elements in certain rites (the sacraments) are universal or worldwide, there is considerable variation in liturgy, church law, and practice.Within the Western or Latin branch, moreover, there are further differences in rites. In Latin America and the Philippines, for example, one finds the Toledo or Mozarabic rite in the marriage ceremony, instead of the Roman rite familiar to most Catholics of theUnited States, Canada, and Western Europe. Another example of official but particular, as distinguished from universal, Catholicism can be found in the rule of Friday abstinence. There was a time when Catholics were forbidden by universal Church law to eat meat on Fridays. However, all of Spain’s former colonies nonetheless enjoyed the privilege conferred on Spain for her participation in the crusades, namely, exemption most of the year from the Friday abstinence. Elements belonging to official Catholicism, then, maybe either universalor particular in their extension. But the concrete religious behavior (beliefs, attitudes, practices) of a Catholic is a function not only of official doctrine and practice, universal or particular, but also of the

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culture in which he was reared, and the community in which he dwells. The nonofficial component of his Catholicism will derive not only from the cultural peculiarities of his environment and his own idiosyncrasies, but from those embellishments as well which are due to the agent which introduced Catholici Catholicism to his people.Thus Latin American folk Catholicism is in large part a transplanted and transformed peninsular Spanish Catholicism, while Filipino folk Catholicism is the local development of both of these sour ces. Knowing what constitutes the orthodox elements of a particular belief or practice, and knowing as well the added ideas or behavior that are traceable to Spain or Mexico or the tradition of one religious order or another, we should be able to recognize in various religi religious phenomena the residuall elements due to the local version of Philippine culture. residua Folk Catholicism and Philippine Society

The central message of Catholicism, like that of Christianity in general, is one of twofold love — love love of God and love of neighbor. Kindness, respect, and compassion for one’s fellow human beings, particularly those who are on one’s side or (alternatively) are in need of assistance, also figure prominently in those Philippine cultures of which we have some knowledge. In the broadest sense, then, Christianity provides additional motivation for the observance of an old cultural imperative — and and for its extension beyond the traditional segment boundaries (loving one’s enemies is certainly not a pre-Spanish trait). Beyond this very general relation of Catholicism to culture, there are three particular areas that deserve attention. For from the social scientists’ viewpoint the new religion has reinforced community and family solidarity in various ways, and has also seen its own institutions influenced and modified in turn by local social patterns. We confine ourselves to these three copies, since we have already treated the social and economic implications of the town fiesta elsewhere (sec LynchI 62).2 Community Solida Solidarity rity

Religion has often been referred to as a divisive force. Certainly the history of mankind provides numerous examples of conflicts which began or were continued in its name. To mention the subject is to be reminded at on once ce of the crusades, for example. Even in the Philippines of 1975, there are those who appeal to religious loyalty in their attempts to fan the flames of Muslim-Christian distrust and enmity in the troubled provinces of Bukidnon, North Cotabato, and elsewhere in Mindanao. There is no doubt that, parad paradoxically, religion can be an effective instrument for turning the children of God against one another. This is not the place to discuss how such uses of religion and religious commitment are in fact abuses of a good thing, nor to explain how Christianity, for example, contains the antidote for the virus of dissension of dissension and hate. Rather, let us accept that people often do use religion for their own ends, consciously or unconsciously, in clearly reprehensible ways. We shall consider instead what the situation is in those Philippine municipalities where the popula population tion is overw overwhelmi helmingly ngly Roman Cathol Catholic. ic. Since 85 perce percent nt of the natio nationn claim membership in this Church, we shall be describing the majority of municipalities. It is un unde ders rstoo tood, d, no none nethe thele less ss,, th that at in tho those se pl plac aces es do domi mina nated ted by Mu Musl slim imss or Agl Aglip ipay ayan ans, s, folk Islam or folk Aglipayanism will probably serve similar functions.

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The sense of community sharing is supported and expressed by attendance at official church services such as mass on Sundays and holy days, novenas, and the rites celebrated on the occasion of baptisms, marriages, and funerals. However, these activities, prescribed or recommended, are supplemented and overshadowed in socializing intensity by various folk religious ceremonies. Most of these traditional observances are of Spanish folk origin, but have received local elaboration and embellishment. The Christmas season. The

novena of dawn masses, or misas de gallo, draws more of the community co the church at one time than any otherevent in the local religion’s calendar, with the possible exception of the high mass of the town fiesta, or the Good Friday or Maundy Thursday services. The misa de aguinaldo, or Christmas midnight mass, is the climax of the Misas de gallo, and fills the church to overflowing; it is the year ’s high point in church attendance. By this very fact of bringing the people together the Christmas religious celebrations stimulate community solidarity. However, they do more than this, for the official services have been supplemented by social usages which, if not strictly religious in nature, may be considered so by context (see the definition above of folk Catholicism). Reference is to the customary gatherings in the church patio or the plaza after the misa de gallo, and to the family repast after the Christmas midnight mass. The general mixing in the first instance makes for stronger community feelings within age — or generation — grades, while the second custom — that of the noche buena, or media noche – strengthens family ties. In both cases the religious gathering becomes the context of the social. Kin visiting is associated in a special way with the three feasts of Christmas, New Year ’s (Santo Nino), and the Three Kings ( Tres Reyes , January 6). In this two-week period the community seems at any given moment to be comprised entirely of guests and hosts; everyone is visiting or receiving. Kin — blood, affinal, and ceremonial — are all visited in turn if opportunity permits, and the children especially are urged to go see their godparents. The child is brought into pleasant and rewarding contact with relatives, honoring all it s elders with a respectful kiss (or forehead-touch) of the hand. This has the effect of reinforcing and perpetuating kin ties and their accompanying feelings of trust and responsibility thus strengthening the thread of which community solidarity is woven. At various times of the year, but especially during Holy Week, the month of May, and the time of the town fiesta, processions bring the townspeople together as participants or observers. The Santakrusan of a moderately large barrio is probably more effective as a socializing influence than any other procession in the year, since it closes with a merienda for all participants, and these include men, women, and children. The Flores de Mayo procession and services have become the affair of women and children, while the Holy Week and town fiesta processions tend to become either sincere dramatic enterprises, opportunities for the fulfillment of a vow, or competitive displays. Community solidarity is promoted, but it is by appeal and support, straining action and silent or vocal encouragement, by participants on the one hand, and sidelines on the other. This solidarity between chose who march and those who watch is clearly expressed in the lighted candle held on the sidelines or placed in the windows of homes on the route of the procession. Processions.

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The Lenten season. During

the Lenten season the community is brought together for several folk-religious practices which have been described else where (Lynch 1956) in detail, namely, the pabasa ng pasiyon, or reading of the passion, and the senakulo, or popular passion play. The first includes a merienda and an opportunity for socializing, both or which may occupy the majority of chose who attend far more than do the seemingly endless verses of the vernacular pasiyon. This reading, or chanting, of the passion is, to my knowledge, found only in the Philippines. It was apparently initiated by early missionaries who capitalized on the widespread, pre-Spanish custom of chanting lengthy local epics. In those communities which present the senakulo with a cast drawn from the townspeople, the weeks of rehearsal and preparation demand the active cooperation of many in the common effort. Where traveling professionals present the senakulo, community feelings are still bolstered and expressed in the gatherings for the performances, and for attendant refreshments. But when the drama is presented by the local people, it is clearly more significant as a factor for community solidarity than is the professional innovation. Feast of the dead. The

folk-feast of undras (from the Spanish honras, “obsequies”) is occasioned by the feast of All Souls (November 2). It brings the people of the town together at the cemetery and in its vicinity, beginning in the afternoon or early evening of November 1. Since many barrios bury their dead in the cemetery which is attached to the poblacion parish church, town and barrio folk come into contact — or at least juxtaposition and mutual observation — on this occasion. As in the preparations for Christmas, and for the town fiesta, when visitors and returning kin are expected to flood the town, so for undras large numbers of the community go to the cemetery early November 1 to clean and whitewash the tombs or niches occupied by their deceased kinsmen, and to help in cutting the weeds and grass that disfigure the common areas of the kamposanto. It is the community as such that muse make a favorable impression on those who will pay their respects at the cemetery. The local group is on display, and it makes a common effort not to seem too dowdy co its children returned from the city. The three major life-crisis ceremonies of baptism, marriage, and burial are the occasion and context for important social activities. Elsewhere (Lynch 1956), in the section on the typical religious biography, the local elaboration of the compadrazgo, or co-parenthood system, has been described. It was there noted that whereas church law provides for at most two baptismal godparents, it is common in some parts of the Philippines, such as the Tagalog area, for the child’s parents to invite others to be katuwang , or cosponsors. In this way the parents can intensify or create a significant relationship with a great number of people, for the kumpare bond is tended even to the brothers and sisters of the katuwang . A small community derives notable solidarity from this far-flung web of ritual kinship. Life-crisis ceremonies.

Marriage is the joining of two extended families, symbolized and sealed by the union in matrimony of a representative couple. Since the tendency in the Philippines is toward geographical endogamy, crosscutting marriages even in a fairly large town will eventually unite much of the community but generally within one or other of the two social classes, upper or lower. In the rural areas (generally not in the cities) the wedding banquets, at the home of the bride, and then at the home of the groom, are often public affairs to which all are invited. These are occasions on which the community members renew their acquaintance with one another.

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The wake, or Lamay, and the nine-day padasal (prayers) following the burial have a similar function. The customary game of forfeits ( juegode prenda, Sp.) is a convenient framework within which the community, or part of it, can give public recognition to an individual’s talent as a singer, guitarist, or perhaps an impersonator. It also provides an occasion for the young men and women to come to know one another better, or publicly to taunt some blushing couple about their budding romance. Summary. In conclusion, it can be stated that the sharing of official religious belief

and practice strengthens and supports the sense of oneness in the average local community. Further, certain official observances become the occasion of traditional social practices which also tend to unite the town or barrio folk. Finally, there are folk-religious customs which operate almost independently of official supervision; in these observances (such as the Santakrusan, pabasa, undras, the coparenthood system in its extended, nonofficial form, the lamay, and padasal ) the consequent bolstering and extending of community solidarity is most clearly seen. Family Solidarity

When one speaks of the family here, he must understand it as the extended family, or as the nuclear or immediate family with no exclusion of the extended; hence at least as the immediate-and-potentially extended family. This unit (the mag-anak ) is reunited and revitalized on one or more of four major occasions during the annual religious cycle: the town fiesta, Christmas day, undras (November 1 – 2), and Holy Week. These traditional reunion days are named in the order of importance usually attributed to them. All families in the town or barrio feel new life in their kin-bonds at these four celebrations. But not all of them are strengthened by another source of family solidarity, namely, the sponsorship of some religious activity for the entire community. Only families which are wealthier than most can afford to underwrite the expenses for such activities as a misa de gallo (with band and fireworks) or a panunuluyan or posada, procession, and subsequent merienda. Only those who have some sufficiency will sponsor a pabasa, or give lodging to touring senakulo actors during Lent. Only those households with money to spare will be the hermanos for a Flores de Mayo or Santa Cruz de Mayo procession (Santakrusan). Only they will possess and richly adorn a processional image for the admiration and delight of all. Other families may go into debt, but it will be for the town fiesta, and not on the community’s but their own account. The vow ( panata) of a deceased member of the family is frequently another factor making for solidarity and a sense of continuity with the past, usually the recent past. A grandparent or great-grandparent might have made a vow to hold a pabasa on such-and-such a day every year. His descendants will strive religiously to adhere to the promise, and in doing this they freshen their memory of the dead. Again, a family may lodge certain senakulo players from the same motive. The roles of the Apostoles for Maundy Thursday are in many towns handed down from father to son, and roles in the senakulo are similarly passed along. Past generations are honored in the present. Summary. Sponsorship of community religious functions, then, serves to make of

the family a clearly designated unit which has accepted a responsibility vis-a-vis the

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community. By this stewardship it increases in both prestige and solidarity. Not all families in the town or barrio have the means for this public service, bur they are strengthened at least by the reunion of their far-flung members on one or more of the great annual commemorations the town fiesta, Christmas, undras, and Holy Week. Reflections of Social Patterns

In the previous subsection, it was mentioned that sponsorship of community religious activities tends to unify the families involved. In a society nearly divided into “little people” and “ big people,” it is the latter who are consistently given the honor and the burden of this sponsorship. Hence the essentially two-class system of the rural Philippines finds its image here. It is not to be concluded, however, that the poorer members of the community either resent this distinction or contribute nothing to the common effort. On the contrary (whether the observer agrees with it or not), the class division and its consequences are generally considered the natural state of affairs, and the lower class brings to each religious event its artistic and manual labor for the preparation of the feast and hearty participation in its celebration. It can be said that the upper class makes folk-religious activities a possibility, while the lower class makes them an actuality. In the local view, who will say which contributes more? Compadrazgo. The co-parenthood system is both an expression and a semireligious validation of Philippine society’s emphasis on generational solidarity. Reference is not to the

official Catholic provision for one or two godparents at baptism and confirmation, but to the widespread local custom of having many more godparents, and of recognizing a coparent relationship toward, not only these persons, but also their brothers and sisters. The parents of a child may select, for instance, a total of four godparents, all from different families. If each of the sponsors has four siblings, the parents will have a coparent ( kumpare) relation to twenty persons and potentially, at least, to twenty nuclear families, perhaps in the same town. If the parents choose the godparents for their future children from different families, it is not difficult to realize how this compadrazgo, or coparenthood system, gives perfect expression to the Filipino’s desire to enjoy some kind of kin bond with all the age-grade or generation comembers with whom he must now, or may someday, carry on the business of life. Procession images. A striking example of religious behavior reflecting social

patterns is to be found in the use of large images, usually of life-size proportion, which are carried or pulled along on their carriages in the various processions of the annual cycle. Because this image-complex is a notable feature of folk Catholicism in most countries raised in the Iberian colonial tradition, it is perhaps justifiable to develop this point at greater length than others. Many observers of Latin American folk-religious behavior have pointed out what the tourist is struck by when he visits countries in which the local folk Catholicism gives a prominent place to images and statues. The people give the impression of treating the statue itself as the personage who is being honored. Yet, when questioned on the subject, almost all will reply (there will be exceptions) by making the distinction which any well-instructed Catholic would make, telling the inquirer that the statue or painting is to remind us of the saint being honored, or that the various images — all under different titles — of our Lord or our Lady merely do respect to them in some special mystery or event of their lives on Earth, or some special attribute.

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Why then is it that, knowing that this is merely an image and not the ultimate object of the honor being shown, so many people speak of these images as though they were persons, and treat them accordingly? I suggest that the image represents for the persons honoring it a means of bridging what at times seems to them an immense gap or distance between the saint and themselves. In Latin America, Italy, Spain, and many other countries other than the Philippines, relations of trust, or confianza, are associated principally with one’s kin, blood or ceremonial. This is true of the Philippines, especially in the areas outside the large cities of Manila, Cebu, and Davao. Furthermore, friendship is showed (and confianza encouraged) by intimate faceto-face dealings, usually with some added manifestation such as a grasping of the person’s arm or hand while talking to him. Where the influence of the damay or folk society is strong, these primary relations are the kind which most quickly strike a responsive chord. If one is to show friendship and confidence, he must treat the person like a kinsman, and must be in physical touch or contact. But how does one establish this kind of closeness with a heavenly saint? Through the image of the saint. Most images are adopted into households, in the

sense that they are not the property of the Church, and ar e not kept in the church building during the year. Rather, when they are not in procession they are kept in private homes and are the property of the householder. They are, in effect, members of various household in the village or town. Thus the saint which the image represents is, in a sense, adopted into the community, and, in a society where everyone is related to nearly everyone else by myriad relationships, the holy one can be considered a kinsman by all. The tendency to be able to touch the object of one’s trust and affection is also satisfied through the image. For the image can be clothed, kissed, held, touched, carried, caressed, and, in general, manipulated in a way which gives the devotee sensible realization of having come close to the saint, as he would to anyone in whom he would confide.

Conclusion

How then does folk Catholicism make Filipinos better Christians? Quite simply, by making it easier for them to understand and (with God’s help) co accept the message of Christ. This it does by giving their faith a physical form which they recognize as their own, communicating the Good News in language and other symbols that are distinctly theirs. Because folk Catholicism is Christianity incarnate, however imperfectly in the Philippine setting, it touches the heart and soul of the Filipino as no abstract text of theology could possibly do. It has, in its own simple fashion, and with admitted errors and excesses, made a good start on the ultimate task that faces the Church in every culture to which it is sent: the fashioning of a Christian Way that perfects and enhances the preexistent native way of life. It is this cherished goal, a perfect blend of orthodox Christianity and all that is good in Philippine culture, to which folk Catholicism points the way. It is a precursor to be sure, but an effective one.

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Folk Catholicism also makes better Filipinos of those who practice it. For the behavior which it encourages is almost invariably supportive of central Philippine values and norms. Practicing folk Catholics, in fact, will generally be solidly traditional Filipinos. The orthodox Filipino Catholic need be no less Filipino, to be sure, and should indeed be more profoundly and perfectly Filipino. Otherwise, the Incarnation has not touched the Philippines as it was intended to.

Ref erences

Lynch, Frank. 1956. Organized religion: Catholicism. HRAF Area Handbook on the Philippines. Chicago: University of Chicago for the Human Relations Area Files, Inc. p p. 476 – 686. ---------. 1962.Town Fiesta: An Anthropologist’s view. Philippines International 6, no. 6:4 – 11, 26 – 27. Lynch, Frank and Perla Q Makil. 1968. The BRAC 1967 Filipino family survey. Saint Louis Quarterly 6 , nos. 3 – 4:293 – 330. Porio, Emma, Frank Lynch, and Mary R. Hollnsteiner. 1975. The Filipino family, community, and nation: The same yesterday, today, and tomorrow? Quezon City: Institute of Philippine Culture, Ateneo de Manila University.

Notes: 1. One source of empirical data on these matters is a report on the Baguio Religious Acculturation Conference (BRAC) Christian Filipino family survey (Lynch and Makil 1968). 2. In reading the paragraphs that follow, t hose who are unfamiliar with the Philippine Rural scene may find some of the references to folk rituals too brief or uninformative for their taste. Detailed descriptions are given in an earlier publication (Lynch 1956).

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H

Modernity and the Filipino

R ANDOLF S. DAVID

In the 1960s, the debates in Philippine social science with modernization, defined roughly as the replacement of traditional values and institutions with modern ones. Forty years later, we seem to be still harping on the same issues, although we are wont to speak today about “modernity” rather than modernization. By “modernity,” we mean the ability to feel at home in a rapidly changing world, a world in which, in the memorable words of Marx, “ everything that is solid melts into air. ” In the past, the only way to face modernity was by the route of modernization, a thinly veiled synonym for Westernization. Today, we speak of alternative modernities to refer to various ways of dealing with lure of the new. Other observers might see the evolving environment in which we live in terms of theprocessesofglobalizationand their associatedperilsand opportunities. I think, however, that it is not just the global scale or reach of these processes, but also the radical changes in the way human beings are asked to live, that invites careful analysis. Until recently, to modernize was an option that every society could take up or ignore. Non-western nations, with long histories and ancient traditions, were particularly wary of modernization because it meant giving up their identity and adopting the Western way of life. The link between economic progress and modernization was, however, such powerfulincentive that many tooktheroadshown bytheWest.Even so not everyonewas, seduced into following this road. Countries like India often, chose value-friendlyslow growth over the West’s value-disrupting fast growth. Today, globalization is radically erasing that choice. Nations seeking acceptance into larger community of nations are virtually being commanded to modernize, or perish. In the past, the world community was content to regard marginalized societies purely in the humanitarian terms of refugees to be fed and sheltered, and fragile governments to be nudged in the direction of greater respect for human rights, democracy and more open way of life. Today, the risks previously associated only with rogue states — small unfriendly nations with the capability to use weapons of mass destruction — are being monitored wherever a potential for sheltering terrorist networks, dirty money, drug dealers and criminal syndicates exists. The world in which we live not only compels us to be modern under pain of isolation and marginalization; indeed it also lures us into risking everything we value and believe in on the promise, not necessarily of a better life, but only of something different. Is there a way of dealing with the forces of modernity without losing our freedom, our balance, and our humanity? To be modern “To be modern,” Marshall Berman writes, “is to experience personal and social life as a maelstrom, to find one’s world and oneself in perpetual disintegration and renewal,

trouble and anguish, ambiguity and contradiction: to be part of a universe in which all that is solid melts into air.”

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Berman meant this as a portrait of the human condition in modern society, but it occurs to me that it may as well be the most eloquent description of the situation of Filipino overseas worker. They who bravely wrench themselves free from everything that is familiar — family, community, and nation — in order to participate in societies and cultures of which they often know nothing, to earn a living among strange peoples that normally welcome their labor but not necessarily their person, in time of great uncertainty and danger; but also of reinvention. I consider our OFWs “ true moderns,’ and my sense is that a close look at their situation may illustrate for us the realities and challenges facing us as a nation. “ To be a modernist,” continues Berman, “ is to make oneself somehow at home in the maelstrom, to make its rhythm one’s own, to move within its current in search of the forms of reality, of beauty, of freedom, of justice that its fervid and perilous flows allows.”

This characterization is important because it can apply to the saga of individuals as well as of whole nation. To be modern does not mean to be engulfed by the maelstrom. It is rather to have the audacity to create a home within it, to master its rhythms, and to move within its currents. It is not to drown, but to flow with its tides; it is to live and survive and claim some happiness in a frenzied and eternally spinning environment, trusting and using only whatever personal strength and creativity one can summon. At once what come to mind is the image of those intrepid adventurers who work all week but fill Europe ’s otherwise empty cathedrals every Sunday, or gather spontaneously in the central squares of Hong Kong, Singapore, and Jeddah in a bid to recreate a bit of the hometown in the bosom of a faraway land. The overseas Filipino worker may be likened to a turtle: she carries her home on her back wherever she goes. She may go away, she may cut all physical ties, clear the deck of all entanglements, and harden herself for the rigors of isolation and powerlessness and abuse, but in whatever she does, she continually draws from a basic self that her native culture had put together for her. No matter if she is alone, she never feels totally unprotected. Researchers of Filipino migrant workers have taken note of this remarkable gift and have referred to it in various ways — resiliency, resourcefulness, courage, survival instincts, practicality, spiritual fortitude, or simply the good old bahala na attitude surfacing as a positive virtue. We may think of it simply as the portrait of the modern as a Filipino. We don’t need to go away, of course, to experience modernity. Our own society has been rapidly transformed in ways that evoke Berman’s metaphor of the maelstrom. Those among us who grew up in an earlier time often feel like immigrants in our own society. We have problems living with the new and pine for the simplicity and integrity of the old. We search for order and predictability based on the recognition of duty. But that is a world that is permanently gone. Modern technology has changed our lives in ways we cannot even begin to imagine. Satellite television, the fax machine, the personal computer, the shopping mall, the Internet, the cellular phone and the whole amazing culture of “texting” just to take the most recent examples, have massively altered the way was we experience and look at the world, and relate to one another. To fail to realize this is to risk isolation and disorientation. The response to modernity may be passive or it may be active. Passive modernists are caught in the swirl of a world they cannot hope to control; theirs is a life of constant

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coping under pain of isolation. Active modernists, in contrast, try to assert control over some aspects of their situation by anticipating events and planning ahead; theirs is a life of continuous creative adaptation, non-stop experimentation and passionate engagement. Let us examine some crucial sites and signs of modernity in our society. a) Education. As it was then, when the American teachers known as the Thomasites first arrived on our shores a hundred years ago, so it is today, through the popular computer schools that are making the new science of information accessible to the lower classes — the school remains the most important workshop of modernity. Filipino parents know that only formal education can rescue their children from the vicious cycle of poverty. It is formal education that has created the Filipino middle class. Unlike other cultures that look upon the modern school as the workshop of the devil or the incubator of dangerous ideas, our culture has always nurtured an instinctive faith in the miracle of education. The school is without any doubt the most important channel of social mobility, a fact that makes us wonder even more why we have the state of our public educational system to languish in neglect. What the public educational system has failed to address, the private sector has taken up both as a mission and as a business enterprise. While public institutions remained tuck in the traditional academic offerings like law, medicine, engineering, and the liberal arts — the new entrepreneurs of learning saw the market for skilled technicians in the communication and information sectors and sought to produce the workhorses of the digital age. Their foresight has paid off as we can see from the proliferation computer schools everywhere. Today, for example, the new AMA Computer University, which started from rented spaces in rundown buildings in lower-middle class neighborhoods, boasts of a student population that is three times as big as that of UP, and spread out in over a hundred campuses all over the country. Not far behind is the STI, whose phenomenal expansion has benefited from the importation of professors from the ranks of our own faculty. The role of these schools in democratizing access to tertiary education cannot be underestimated. They have become the principal channels for oversease technical employment, and the main producers of those that we in the elite universities used to sneer at as mindless vocational technicians. These technicians now constitute the country's reserve army in the new information economy.

What’s fascinating about these schools is the way in which they create a hospitable home for non-elite ambitions. Class and family background are totally irrelevant within their settings. They cater to individuals in search of skills they can use in a globalized anonymous market, not credentials they can flash in a hierarchical status-fixated society. b) The Market . By “Market”, I mean here the wide arena of exchange through which products are introduced and traded. From the moment our ancestors began to trade with the Chinese junk boat merchants, we became aware that there is a world outside waiting to be explored. We are a nation or tireless shopper, and our fondness for imported goods in legendary. We often see it as a colonial hangover, but in many ways, our receptiveness to things foreign is also what makes us so open to the modern. Goods are the bearers of entire lifestyles, and as a people we have always been friendly to imports. Unlike the Japanese, we have no emotional or cultural attachment to our own products. For a nation that seeks to develop its own productive system, this is not exactly something to rejoice over. But it is what makes us Asia’s most modern people.

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Perhaps the clearest and most dominant trope we can use for this cultural openness is the “mall rat,” a rough equivalent for Charles Baudelaire’s flaneur . He window-shops and people-watches all day, but buys almost nothing. He surveys the bountiful offerings of consumerism, looks at them with fascination, and moves on. He is familiar with what every mall has to offer and the kinds of people who flock to them, but he has no attachments to people or to objects. He loves the cool ambience, the clean toilets, the noise and frenzy, and the variety. He knows every nook and corner of it, and can feel comfortable in it, but it is not exactly his home. He is neither terrorized nor mesmerized by the new or the imported. He looks at its promises, but is not completely lured by it. I think that as a people in the throes of modernity, we learn the techniques of the modern over time; we adjust our ways, and improvise and improve upon the imported. I do not believe that we have been passive recipients of foreign goods and technologies. Just to take one example, McDonalds’s entry into the local food sector launched the whole notion of “fast-food” a way of delivering service in a fast-paced, efficient, inexpensive, and cheerful way without sacrificing quality and hygiene. Today it is not unusual to see Filipino fast-food chains adopting the American way, but doing better than their foreign counterparts. I don’t think we have ever been afraid of the new and the foreign, although our indiscriminate openness to external forces has been a classic source of vulnerability — insofar as the project of nationhood is concerned. The 1997 Asian financial exemplifies this very well. c) The Mass media. Television, in particular, has exerted a profound influence on the way we live. Because of the pervasiveness of English, we are a natural market for American programs and American movies, which are the most effective carriers of modernity. Unlike newspapers, TV cuts through class barriers. The most impoverished families would dispense with basic furniture in their homes but not a television set. TV has always been for our people a window to what they can be, and to a way of life they can aspire to have. In many ways, the long exposure to American television has given million Filipino migrant workers the basic cosmopolitanism that allows them to adapt easily to other cultures. Again, this is a quality of the modern person. Today, the Internet is playing the same radical role in our lives shown earlier by television. Internet use in our society is in its early stages still, but the great class divide that I thought would prevent the children of poor families from participating in the new digital world no longer seems insurmountable. Computer schools and Internet cafes and centers are sprouting all over, and while it is still a largely middle class tool, with the diminishing costs of computers, the Internet is becoming more and more a lifeline to the future for the children of the poor. E-mail and e-groups are reweaving the various threads of the Filipino nation, be they families, regional and linguistic communities, school-based affinities, professional associations or hobby groups dispersed around the globe. These electronic tools are also spawning new communities, new social movements, and new intellectual and political for a never before thought possible. The speed and simplicity with which these modern tools work have transformed the whole world of communication. Interestingly, instead of obliterating the content of the old cultures and erasing old ties, the Internet can also serve as a resuscitator and intensifier of primordial identities. But unlike traditional loyalties, the new electronic

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communities do not engulf the whole person. Withdrawal from their fold is quick and easy: just type “unsubscribe” No further explanation is needed or required. d) Overseas work . Finally, there is overseas employment, about which I spoke earlier and on which I want to share a few more notes here. I think it is worthwhile looking into the impact of this phenomenon beyond the problems posed by brain drain. If one examines Philippine social history, one would be hard-pressed to find any other phenomenon that has had as dramatic, as deep and as comprehensive an impact on the collective fate and private lives of Filipinos as overseas employment. Short-term overseas work of the last 25 years has irreversibly shaped the Philippine economy, modified the bureaucracy, and transformed the Filipino family, the relations between spouses, and between parents and children. It has changed the physical landscape of the remotes barrios, now teeming with the ubiquitous “katas ng Saudi” (literally, “sap from Saudi”) homes. It has transposed career patterns, consumer tastes, status systems, and even mode of spirituality. It has altered the nature of consular work abroad, and made new demands on foreign policy. It has liberated Filipino women contract workers from traditional bondage to the men in their families. It has allowed them to nurture the private self as a worthy project, free from the constraints of tradition, and away from the unrelenting and often suffocating pressure of family obligations. Within only one generation, the foreign travel that overseas contract work has made possible has brought our nation into the very heart of the modern and global age. I call this phenomenon and the sum total of its effects the Filipino Diaspora — a collection of experiences arising from the “doubled relationship” or dual loyalty that migrants, exiles, and refugees have to places — their connections to space they currently occupy and their continuing involvement with “ back home ”.” (Lavie and Swednburg, 1996, p.14) It is not the travel itself that is new, but the purpose and magnitude in which it is being undertaken, and the various unexpected consequences it has brought about. What was originally conceived as a stop-gap measure to alleviate domestic unemployment and to help the country pay for its oil imports in the mid-70s has become a lucrative industry for recruiters, a steady source of foreign exchange for the government, and a popular and instant exit from poverty for millions of poor families. The gender shift in migration may be regarded as among the most revolutionary events in the history of the Filipino family, Filipino women in traditional households were homebound, institutionally deprived of the opportunities for higher education, a professional career, and a life of their own. But when the OCW program dangled the prospect of capturing the international market for domestic helpers and nurses for the Middle east, tradition crumbled and millions of Filipino women found themselves suddenly released from their tacit vows of obedience to the males in their families — their fathers, brothers, and husbands. To go abroad, to work in foreign homes, was for them an act of liberation. This phenomenon triggered overseas jobs — as the out-migration of Filipino women for other overseas jobs — as singers, dancers, and hostesses in Japan, as factory workers in Japan, Taiwan and South Korea, and as domestic helpers in Singapore, Hong Kong, Italy and Spain. A corollary route

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was intercultural marriage, which was extensively promoted by “mail-order-bride” or matchmaking agencies. The phenomenon of mail-order brides has now invaded the Internet. Websites like Filipina.com and Filipino.wife.com lure thousands of Filipino women from everywhere and from different levels of education. I do not know how this can be stopped or regulated except by making available counter-information that warns our women against the dangers of such arrangements. But here again we are face to face with a situation of globality that available national instruments are simply unable to deal with adequately. Here you have a nation-state that is desperately attempting to maintain a level of relationship with its citizens, and it realizes that the only way to do that is to redefine its own institutions. Two things come to mind in this regard — two urgent bills filed in Congress — one that provides for dual citizenship to Filipino who have adopted foreign citizenship, and another that offers absentee-voting rights to Filipinos residing or working abroad. Just a few years ago, both bills would have been unthinkable, as we were wont to think of Filipinos who have decided to leave the country for greener pastures as somehow having lost any moral right to participate in its political processes. But if we assiduously claim a part of t heir earnings in the form of taxes or remittances, why shouldn’t they continue to exercise rights within the political community? This brings us to the contradictions and modes of adaptation that the transition of modernity spawns in our society. e) Law and Culture. The culture of our ancestors was a profoundly personalistic culture befitting small face-to-face communities, where “hiya” or shame was a powerful social sanction, and where the need for social acceptance kept members of the community from straying too far from the customary. The culture, based largely on tacit understandings and expectations, has, over the years, become irrelevant to the requirements of a complex society. Yet the spread of a modern legal culture, that would take the place of the customary culture, has been slow and uneven. Culture and law often clash with one another in some settings, while in others they ingeniously ride on each other. We find lawyers, judges, and bureaucrats bending the legal to accommodate the cultural. And vice-versa, we find old cultural scores being settled using modern law and the judicial system as a weapon. The trial of Erap is a volatile blend of all these. The reason for the failure of the culture of the law to be internalized by our people is due, I think in no small measure to the foreign origin of our legal system. Our civil and penal codes are largely Spanish, Our corporate and electoral laws are American. These legal systems, like our own political system, did not spring originally from the cumulative experiences of our nation. They do not resonate deeply-held indigenous values. Offenses in our society are well-defined by our laws, but they are seldom accompanied by a sense of guilt in the offenders. There is, we say, a disconnect between the laws and the “collective conscience,” to borrow a term from Emile Durkheim. This is not to say that laws of foreign origin can never be our own. It is only to say that a process like this is never smooth. Imported laws acquire specific uses never anticipated by their authors. We cannot pressure too much. The Filipino driver who goes through a red traffic light is not always

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maliciously flouting the law; he may think he is just being practical, but the chances are he cannot even read traffic signs. The disconnect is perhaps most visible in behavior in public office. One of the most basis features of Western modernity is the clear separation of the public and the private. Where this distinction is not part of the consciousness of individuals, it is difficult to speak of corruption in any meaningful sense. In our society, the personal almost always shades into the official, and vice-versa. A public official may not accept a bribe, the Filipino cannot turn down a gift without risking insult to the given. Joseph Estrada ’s troubles as president multiplied from the precise moment he stopped going to his designated office in Malacañang and decided to hold court instead in the sala of the Presidential Residence. There, Cabinet meetings dovetailed the informal gatherings of presidential cronies. Perhaps no laws have been taken more lightly than our election laws. I know of no one in our country who has been jailed or disqualified from holding office for over-spending or accepting illegal contributions. The Comelec gives no more than a cursory glance at the declaration of contributions and expenditures filed by candidates at the end of every election. These sworn statements are only very rarely truthful; no one believes them. The same cavalier attitude shown toward electoral laws is mirrored in the Filipino voter ’s lack of appreciation for the meaning of his ballot. He seldom gives his right to vote the importance it deserves because he does not understand the simple philosophy in which it is embedded. Political right came to our people ahead of economic liberation. And so they have spent the last half century trying to appease their economic wants by trading in their political rights. f) Politics. In the previous sections of this papers, I have tried to show how in many subtle ways, Filipino community has been fragmented by the globalization of the labor market. But, we know by now, I think, that the biggest danger we face as a nation is fragmentation and dissolution but a prolonged civil war. We were closest to a civil war during the dying years of Martial Law, when the Marcos regime was increasingly unable to govern, and credible mechanism of succession did not exist. In 1985, in answer to an American TV anchor ’s doubts about his political legitimacy, Marcos offered the challenge of an election that everyone knew he would rig. We took that challenge despite what reason was telling us. Looking back, I think if our people had rejected it, as they had every reason to, there would have been no other choice for us at the same time but armed struggle. But we took a leap of faith, literally and metaphorically. In this, I believe, we were being modern, albeit in a reckless way. Instead of a clear plan of action, we drew from a rich reserve of spirituality to overcome our fears. We, as expected, the Bataan upheld the reelection of Marcos, the Americans advised us to accept the spurious results of the 1986 elections that Marcos had clearly stolen. They advised us to fight another day. This was also what the US wanted us to do during the impeachment trial of Estrada in 2001 — not to protest and not to abandon the impeachment process but to accept the foregone conclusion that Estrada would eventually be acquitted by the majority in the Senate. Such is democracy, the American media told us. If we wanted to be modern in the Western sense, a basic commitment to institutions, I think, would have dictated a submissive course of action, in both instances.

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But we decided to be modern in an alternative way — we rejected what was wrong and rushed headlong into the swirl of events without demanding to know beforehand how the process would end. Perhaps the right word is “ postmodern”— foreign analysis thought we had a dangerous tendency to distrust our own institutions. In a sense they were right. In 1986, we knew nothing about people power. We stumbled upon it as a political device lying somewhere between elections and revolutions. Fifteen years later, we were not certain whether we could resort to it again to oust a corrupt and incompetent president. But, by then, uncertainties no longer fazed us. But now we have begun to worry that we have not paid much attention to nurturing our institutions. We worry that we may have frayed the fabric of our national life too often and stretched the meaning of democracy beyond recognition. We look around us and we are distressed to see how many incompetent people and suspected criminals we have elected to public office. Criminal syndicates roam the country with impunity. The whole nation is held hostage by well-armed bandits styling themselves as warriors for Islam. We cannot seem to trust the military or the police to protect us, or our courts to dispense justice, or the mass media to tell us the truth. Our first task should be to understand and accept what we have become. To understand means to take a hard look at our present situation and to identify the weakest areas of our national life requiring the most urgent and sustained intervention. To accept means to free ourselves from the sentiments of past generations to stop blaming colonialism, or the betrayal and complicity of our leaders, for our troubles as a people. It is to believe that we are what we are today as a result of the peculiar circumstances of our revolution as a nation. That colonialism produced both good and bad effects. That we must learn to preserve and build upon the good, and charge the bad to experience. Today we have a people to feed, house, and educate. There is a whole world out there that gets more and more complex every day. Its presence is for us both danger and opportunity. Concluding Notes

What I have to do here is to outline what I think have been the main features of the Philippine experience with modernity. I have used the heroic figure of the Overseas Filipino Worker as an analogue for a nation has also been a story of ceaseless coping with recurrent problems that worsen with time. Like the OFW, we drift as a nation, we manage, and we coast along, and miraculously survive the trial that come our way — until another major crisis hits us. Then we summon all our faith, and draw from a heroism that we think we no longer have. We jolt the world by the awesome risks we take, and surprise even ourselves with the providential results we achieve by our recklessness. No wonder we are people of uncommon faith. But our problems are graver with every passing year. The silent crisis we live in is more dangerous. We have not prepared ourselves for the economic storm that is shaking the rest of the world. This is all because we tend to reserve our passion and heroism for those dramatic moments — the people power events — rather than for the long intervals when seem to be at rest, when nothing great seems to be happening.

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We give in to cynicism; we allow ourselves to be intimidated by the complexity of the tasks at hand, and to be discouraged by the pettiness of out politicians. We demand so much our government, but expect so little from the people we elect to public office. Again it is because we don’t see the interconnection. To be modern is not just to survive a world of continuous change; more than this, it is to be able to exercise a measure of control over our lives. This we cannot do by being satisfied with mere coping. And here I go back to Berman’s reminders. To be modern is to open ourselves to the possibilities bought about by the unending flux of innovation and obsolescence. It is to welcome change, and to be at home in it rather than to sneer at the new from the vantage point of romanticized past. But to be modern is also to grow in freedom with time, to strive to reduce our vulnerability to unsettling events and phenomena, and to discipline and form ourselves into a confident, stable, and peaceful community. To be premodern is to reject our hand a world that contradicts our faith, while to be modern is to leap into it and to create new meaning and ever new lives on the back of time without losing sense of what it is to be human. The formation of a new culture hospitable to social justice, democracy, and freedom will not come from the simple revival of indigenous values, though without any doubt we may draw some strength from them, nor will it come from the blind imitation of Western institutions and practices. As in the past, it will come from the imagination of those who, like Jose Rizal, could step out of the skin of the existing culture, criticize this in relation to the exigencies of survival in a vastly changed would, and offer new perspectives appropriate to the times in which they live.

References

1.

Berman, Marshall. 1988. All that is solid melts into air. The experience of modernity. New York: Viking Penguin

2.

Lavie, Smadar& Ted Swedenburg, eds 1996. Displacement, diaspora and geographies of identity. Durham,N.C.: Duke University Press.

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I

The Case of Filipina Domestic Helpers in Singapore and Hong Kong

F. LANDA JOCANO

This paper deals with the phenomenon of “ culture shock ” experienced by Filipinas working as domestic helpers in Singapore and Hong Kong. Reports of incidents of “mental disorders”, “emotional stress,” “suicides” and many other forms of difficulties suffered by Filipina domestics during their stay in these places often bug the newspaper headlines. Many reasons are given why these incidents happen. The most striking ones are psychological in nature. While this is true, this paper offers another explanation: culture shock. It is misleading if one focuses attention mainly on the difficulties Filipina domestics suffer while working in these places. There are some success stories but these seldom land in the newspaper headlines. They only serve to fan the imagination of relatives, neighbors and friends to come to these distant cities to seek the “ pot of gold at the end of the rainbow”. Some are lucky and others are not, whichever is the outcome of their ventures, they all encounter the same initial “shock ” in the new cultural setting with which many are not prepared to cope. The term “culture shock ” refers to a “form of anxiety that results from an inability to predict the behavior of others or act appropriately in a cross-cultural situation.” This anxiety arises because of differences in cultural ways of thinking, believing, feeling and acting that characterize the orientations of people in different cultures. What appears to be logical in one culture is illogical in another. And so on. Culture has been broadly defined as a way of life. Each group of people has “a way of life”— whether viewed from purely economic, social, political, and religious terms. It is this “way of life” which makes certain traits universal and others particular. For example, eating is universal but preparing meals are not. Shelter is universal but building houses and living in them are not. Clothing is universal but constructing attires and being fashionable is not. It is the nuances associated with these universal traits which make them unique to certain groups of people. Behaviorally, culture may be further viewed as a system of symbols and meanings people use to (I) organize their ideas, (2) interpret their experiences, (3) pass judgments or make decisions, and (4) guide their behavior. Symbols are objects, ideas, sounds (as in language) and acts to which observers (as well as actor) endow certain attributes and use these attributes to represent the realities of the objects, ideas, sounds and acts. Where attributed meanings are not congruent, difficulties in the organization and interpretation of actions take place. A person may know how to operate a telephone but if he cannot speak the language, like being in a foreign land, he could not reach the person he wants to speak with. If two persons do not share the same “meaning” they give to an object, they ultimately quarrel.

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Asian countries are said to share similar cu1tures. This is true in the surface. But underneath the veneer of being Asian, there are nuances of lifestyles which make Asian countries differ from each other. These nuances are the major factors which hamper the ability of those who choose to live in other cultures to respond appropriately or to adapt quickly to the situation (s) in the host country. The experiences of Filipina domestics in other Asian countries support this observation. Much of their reported sufferings are largely due to “culture shock ”. How to minimize the impact of this “shock ” in their lives is one of the issues that ought to challenge the concern of labor and civic leaders in the countries of origin and the host countries. Methodology The

data for Singapore were obtained during fieldwork in that country in 1985 and 1986. The ones from Hong Kong were culled from the reports of colleagues data have since been updated through interviews with and other writers. These Filipina domestics who have returned to the Philippines. In other words, the data for this paper came from two sources: actual interviews in the field and secondary reports culled from published materials. Interviews with scholars who have done similar fieldwork were conducted to supplement the field materials. Filipino Migrant Labor: An Overview

The phenomenon of Filipino migrant labor is not new. It began as early as the turn of the 20th century, when the American plantation owners, particularly the sugar barons of Hawaii, recruited thousands of young Filipinos to work in the sugar plantations. The first batch was in 190? which consisted mainly of 20? people, mostly Tagalogs. ‘The next group came from Cebu in 1915. From 1919 to 1940, most recruits came from the Ilocos region. After the Second World War, most Filipino labor migrants were professionals: nurses, doctors, engineers and businessmen. They went mostly to the United States, Canada and Europe. The migration spread over a period of more than twenty years, from 1950 to 1970. The boom of non-professionals but skilled labor migrants took place in the 1970s. Hundreds and thousands of Filipinos were recruited as construction workers in the Middle East. Of course, there were other places like Guam, Marianas, Malaysia and Indonesia. But the bulk was in the Middle East, particularly in Saudi Arabia. Following close to the heels of Filipino construction workers were Filipinas who were recruited to work as entertainers, hospital attendants, hotel chambermaids and domestics. The latter were recruited mostly for Japan, Europe, Middle East, Singapore and Hong Kong. This paper deals mainly with experiences of domestic help (DH) in Singapore and Hong Kong. The number of Filipinas working as DH in these two cities varies. There are no accurate statistics in that some domestic helpers do not pass government processing agencies, like the Philippine Overseas Employment Agency (POEA). They go through private recruiting agencies. Others are directly hired.

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Reasons for Going Abroad

The reasons domestic helpers give when asked why they opted to work abroad are varied. Most of them however give economic reasons as the main stimulus in doing so. They are ware of the risk associated with such venture. An informant said: “ Kami ay nagbabakasakali kumita at makaginhawa naman sa hirap ng buhay sa ating bansa.” (We take the chance order to earn (money) in order to “ breath” sufferings we experience in our country), While economic reasons are recognized, are other factors informants give for abroad as domestic helpers. Among these are “ bastamaka-abroad lang” (just to go abroad), “nagtampo kaya lumayas” (ran away from home because of hurt feelings), “mayroong iniiwasan” (to escape from something or someone), and many others. In other words, working as a domestic help is one of the easiest ways to avoid all these troubles. Most of these domestic helpers are college graduates. Some are already gainfully employed here in the Philippines. But many do not have the necessary skills to compete in the labor market abroad, hence they accept the most readily available ones — domestic helpers. Cultural Shock Experiences: Some Cases

Almost all researchers who studied the plight of domestic helpers abroad report that the initial problems of them met were psycho-social in nature. Meaning “culture shock ”. They left the Philippines with high hopes, often figuring how much they would make and the bright future their families would enjoy upon return. However, many of them did not quite make it. Some did. Many fortunate ones — those whose employers were diplomats, businessmen, and “foreigners” (mostly Whites) — enjoyed comparable living and no sad tales to tell. But they also had initial discomforts with the new culture. The many unfortunate ones, on the other hand did not only have discomforts, they underwent all kinds of sufferings ranging from nervous breakdowns to physical abuse. The major challenge which confronts the domestic helpers, or anyone who goes abroad for that matter is how to cope with the problems of the new environment. The accounts informants narrate when interviewed point to what is known in the literature as “culture shock.” That is, the inability to cope with new ways of doing things in the new environment. There are six major areas where the “shock ” is most prominent: language, food, loneliness, jealousy, sexual abuse, and cultural practices. Language

Miscommunication is one of the major of culture shock. The inability to convey a message or to be understood is an excruciating experience. It brings about anxiety and fear, especially in a foreign land. Many of the problems Filipino domestic helpers encounter in Singapore and Hong Kong emanated from language difficulties. English is spoken and generally understood in many sectors in Singapore and Hong Kong. Young Singaporeans

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and Hong Kong Chinese know English. But many of the older ones do not speak the language or, at best, have very little knowledge of it. Thus, outside of the home, the newly-arrived domestic helpers do not have any language problem. They also do not have any language problem with the younger employers, although many young Chinese do not have a good grasp of the language. The problem is with the older people in-laws, parents and grandparents — who are left behind when the younger employers go to the office. Generally, the older people are very conservative. They are also meticulous about household work. When the younger employers come, they complain about the performance of the help —”Your help is lazy”. She does not know anything. Such complains oftentimes also anger the young employers, especially the women. The role of older people, especially mothers and mothers-in-law cannot be overemphasized. Not to react positively to what they say is perceived as disobedience, a very serious offense in Chinese culture. Thus, complaints from the older people about the helps’ performance often trigger a quarrel between the employer and the help. Some employers hit the helps physically when angered. Others pull the hair or heap verbal abuse. Newspaper reports of cases of physical violence due to miscommunication are many. Here is one: Elena Cruz (a pseudonym), 20, comes from Cagayan Valley. She is the eldest in a family of seven. She was in second year high school when her parents died. She decided to quit school and find work in order to make the family survive. One day, a neighbor friend dropped by. She has just arrived from Singapore for a vacation. She is working as a domestic helper. She narrated her wonderful experiences and showed colored photographs to back up her stories. She also said she is earning S$300.00 a month, which is equivalent to P3,000.00 This excited Elena and her siblings. They asked the girl how she was able to go to Singapore. She told about the process — go to the recruiting agency, follow up papers, and pay the necessary fees, which amount to P8,000.00. “After that, everything is simple,” said the friend.

Elena decided to go. With the help of relatives, she was able to raise the money. She went to Manila and approached the recruitment agency that was recommended by her friend. Elena cannot speak good English. But she can manage a halting conversation. On arrival in Singapore, she was fetched from the airport by the man from the agency. They were taken to “a big house in the city.” From there, the prospective employer picked her up. Elena’s employer is a young Chinese couple who are in a private company. At home, the man’s older sister and mother stay with them, the flat is located on the 6th floor of a highrise apartment.

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The older sister runs a good stall in the market. The older woman, in her seventies, stays at home with the children. Both women cannot speak English. Elena does not have problems when the young, English-speaking employers are at home. But when they are in the office, that is when problems arise. Instructions from the older women are in Chinese. Sign language is resorted to most of the time. But this is very difficult. Elena cannot follow the instructions to the detail and this often angers the older women. One noontime, the old woman instructed Elena to prepare lunch. They could not understand each other. Elena tried to follow but everything she did was always out of place. She tried to explain but it was useless. At the height of their misunderstanding, the women hurled at Elena all kinds of invectives and finally slapped her. Elena did not retaliate. In the evening, when the young employer arrived, the old woman told them that Elena refused to obey her. This angered the wife. She confronted Elena. The latter tried to explain but she did not want any of this. One word led to another and they quarreled. The employer slapped Elena and pulled her hair. When the man saw this, he helped his wife and they took turns punishing Elena. This incident triggered similar incidents. Elena suffered much, not because she was not competent but because she could not handle the language well. She was brought by her employer ’s sister to work at the stall in the market. Again, she messed up the business because she could not understand what the customers wanted or were talking about. Again, she was punished for her mistake. Food

Food is the other source of problem of adaptation among the newly arrived Filipino domestic hclpers. Of course, Filipinos are used to Chinese food and are very flexible insofar as food is concerned. However, the food preparation for ordinary household consumption is another thing. Among the reported preparation which Filipina domestic helpers find culturally intolerable is the use of porridge (Filipino lugaw) for meals among the Chinese, and the peppery (maanghang) food among the Indians and Malaysians. Food would not have been a “source of culture shock ” if the maids are allowed to cook their own food. Generally, they are forbidden to do so. They have to “make do” of what is served in the house. Eventually the maids get adjusted but not without experiencing difficulties along the way. For example, most Chinese serve porridge for ordinary meals. Culturally, porridge is served in Philippines to people who are sick or on soft. The preparation is also served as snacks, known as goto. Porridge is not served as the regular menu for meals. However, among the Chinese in both Singapore and Hong Kong, this is the regular meal. Sometimes, the porridge is mixed with chicken, beef, onions and other condiments. However, some Filipina maids report that the porridge served them “is mainly rice and water.” To meet personal tastes, the individual may add sauce, pepper or salt.

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Most Filipina domestics complained about practice. As one maid said: “We worked so hard and yet we are fed with lugaw. Could you imagine eating porridge in the morning, in and evening through the week?” When they complain about this, they are reminded, “You are not in the Philippines. You are in Singapore (or Hong Kong, as the case may be). You better adjust.” Aside from Chinese food, Indian, Indonesian, Malaysian food preparations are not palatable to many Filipinas. It is “too hot for our “But that is all there is in the house and if you do not like the preparation, then you do not have any meal at all. ” Since the maids are not allowed to cook their food separately, many survive the first few months on crackers or, if they are fortunate to have weekends off, they buy Filipino food from snack corners and from market places.

Loneliness

Loneliness is the first psychological problem that hits the Filipina domestic upon arrival in a foerign country. The warmth and attention received at home are suddenly not there. She is alone. She is warned against using the telephone for calling friends. She could not receive calls either. Even if she is not prevented from calling friends, she knows no one. Maybe she has friends — but they are also busy and also warned against receiving calls. “Loneliness is the worst enemy,” said one of the maids during an interview. “It took

me five months to overcome it. That was when I started to have friends. But before that I did not know what to do — I can only cry.” Crying is sometimes the cause of the quarrel between Filipina domestic helpers and their employers. Shedding tears, in conservative Chinese belief, brings bad luck to the family. The employers cannot understand why the maids are always crying. As one employer complained to me: “Mr. Jocano, what shall I do with my Filipina maid? She cries in the morning, she cries at noon, she cries in the afternoon, she cries in the evening and she cries before going to sleep. My husband is getting concerned because our business is having difficulties.” When I explained that perhaps they are lonely, the crisp reply was: “But why did they come?” Loneliness is not so much a problem to single girls. But to married ones who have left their small children, it is an ordeal. “At first,” said one of the maids, “I could not stand it. I cried almost all day long. My employers — husband and wife — were always mad at me. When I did not have any letter from home I felt miserable. When I received letters from home, it was also equally miserable. I did not know what to do. I hung on to my rosary. I prayed and prayed. Slowly, my loneliness faded away as days went by and I started to have friends.”

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Jealousy

The third main source of conflict between the Filipino domestic helper and her employers, particularly the wife, is jealousy. Generally, Filipinas are fashion conscious. They love to dress themselves, complete with fashion jewelry they could afford. It is irrelevant whether the materials used for a dress are cheap or the jewelry are imitations. These are worn with some elegance and taste. Except for the well-to-do, Chinese women are conservative in their taste for fashion. Thus, when Filipina domestic helpers accompany their employers (specifically to take care of the children) when the latter attend social gatherings, the former looks more “ beautiful than the ama.” This contrast makes the wife jealous. It also catches the attention of the husband and leads to conflict. This is typified by this case. Amelia is 24 years old. She comes from Pampanga. She has a fairly white complexion or mestizahin, is 5’ x 4” in height, slender and with jetblack hair which she keeps close to her shoulders. Her eyes have an oriental slant which, at a glance, make her look like a Chinese. She sought employment as a maid in Singapore when she and her boyfriend broke their engagement. Her employer is a middle-aged Chinese couple. The man is fifty and the woman is forty-nine. They have four children, mostly grown-up and have their own families. Their grandchildren live with them. One day, they brought the grandchildren to a country fair. Amelia dressed for the occasion. When they reached the fair-site, she was mistaken for Mrs. Ong, her employer. Because of her pretty looks, the aging Mr. Ong also took a fancy at Amelia. Trouble began. Mrs. Ong became very jealous of Amelia that she refused to bring her out again. She also accused Amelia of trying to seduce her husband. Because of jealousy, Mrs. Ong made Amelia ’s life very miserable. She would make her work more than eight hours a day, from five o’clock in the morning to two o’clock the following morning, especially when there is a mahjong game in the house.” In addition, Amelia was allowed to have a day off only once a month. She was not given adequate food. She was scolded, shouted at and humiliated in front of visitors. When interviewed, Amelia showed flat iron marks on her arms. She said that it was inflicted by Ms. Ong when she did not iron the latter ’s dress “as good as she expected me to do.” There were many other physical abuses. When Amelia could not take it anymore she ran away. She sought help at the Catholic Center in Geylang Street.

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Summary and Conclusion

There are many other cases that document the cross-cultural problems met by Filipinas in Singapore and Hong Kong. Data from other countries, like Malaysia and the Middle East, are similar. Official reports from the Department of Labor and Employment also record similar cases. Suffice it for the moment to state that most of the difficulties Filipina domestic helpers meet abroad emanate from clash of cultural orientations. The familiar ways of doing things in the Philippines signal different meanings among the Chinese in Singapore and Hong Kong. Crying, for example, is not good for business because tears “ block the flow of money and wash away good luck.” Dirt must not be swept away through the door. It brings bad luck. Several Filipinas interviewed said they were dismissed because “the tip of the broom I’m using accidentally touched the feet of my employer.” Doing this, “I was told by my employer that it would bring untold bad luck to the family.” There are many other cross-cultural practices which cause miscommunication and conflict between the Filipino maids and their employers. In many occasions, they cannot understand why they are verbally abused and physically harmed. “We try our best to perform well, said many of them when interviewed, “ but our best is not good enough. You are not corrected so that you can learn. Basta’ t sabunutan ka na lang (You are just hit). Theoretically, even if Asian countries are the same Asiatic cultures, the nuances of each country’s cultural orientation vary. This is when the problem lies in cross-cultural encounters. Many of the Chinese beliefs and practices coincide with those of the Philippines. Our exposure to the Spaniards and the Americans have altered many of our Asiatic beliefs and thus, when people coming from these two cultures interact, they generally do not communicate well and this often brings conflicts. It is suggested, in this connection that to enhance cross-cultural understanding between the Filipina help and their prospective employers in Singapore and Hong Kong, a pre-departure, cross-cultural seminar be given as the Filipina domestic helpers. This will them on what to expect and how to behave so that they do not become so vulnerable to exploitation and abuse abroad. Conflicts generated by misunderstanding at the individual level can become a problem at the intercountry level.

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J

Mothering from a Distance: Emotions, Gender and InterGenerational Relations in Filipino Transnational Families

R HACEL SALAZAR PARREÑAS

An increasing number of Filipina migrants are mothering their children from a distance. In order to provide for their families, they must leave them behind in the Philippines and take advantage of the greater labor market opportunities in other countries of Asia, Europe, and the Americas. One of the largest sources of independent female labor migrants in the world, the Philippines has seen the formation of a growing number of 1 female-headed transnational families. These families are households with core members living in at least two nation-states and in which the mother works in another country while some or all of her dependents reside in the Philippines. This article analyzes the emotional consequences of geographical distance in female-headed transnational families and examines the mechanisms by which mothers and children cope with them. Without a doubt, mothering from a distance has emotional ramifications both for mothers who leave and children who are sent back or left behind. The pain of family separation creates various feelings, including helplessness, regret, and guilt for mothers and loneliness, vulnerability, and insecurity for children. How are these feelings negotiated in the social reproduction of the transnational family?2Moreover, how are these feelings influenced by gender ideologies of mothering? The practice of mothering from a distance or “transnational mothering,” as Pierrette Hondagneu Sotelo and Ernestine Avila have called it, ruptures the ideological foundation of the Filipino family.3Unlike the “split households” of earlier Chinese, Mexican, and Filipino male migrants in the United States, the traditional division of labor with the father in charge of production and the mother of reproduction are contested in contemporary female-headed transnational households.4 This article examines gender and intergenerational relations through the lens of emotion. I show that socialized gender norms in the family aggravate the emotional strains of mothers and children in transnational families and argue that the reconstitution of mothering led by female migrants from the Philippines is stalled by traditional ideologies of family life. I chose emotion as the central analytical principle of this article because emotional strains are prominent characteristics of the family life of migrant Filipina domestic workers. Moreover, these emotional strains beg to be understood systematically. As Arlie Hochschild has shown, emotions do not exist in a vacuum. Instead, they exist in the context of social structures in society. As she states, “Emotion is a sense that tells about the self-relevance of reality. We infer from it what we must have wanted or expected or how we must have been perceiving the world. Emotion is one way to discover a buried perspective on matters.” Regulated by “feeling rules,” emotions are determined by ideologies,5and in the Filipino family, as in many other families, the ideology of woman as nurturer is a central determinant of the emotional needs and expectations of its members.6 To develop my argument, I begin by reviewing two relevant bodies of literature — one on transnational families and the other on emotional labor. Then, I describe my research methodology and the characteristics of my sample. To build my conceptual case, I first discuss the structural causes of distance mothering. Second, I illustrate the emotional strains

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engendered by the geographical distance in transnational families. Finally, I build on this by analyzing the ways that traditional gender ideologies aggravate the intergenerational conflicts wrought by the emotional strains of transnational family life. Transnational Families

My discussion engages and draws from literature on the transnational family and women’s work and emotional labor. Transnational families are neither unique to Filipino labor migrants nor are they exclusive to present day migrants. Various studies have documented the formation of transnational households among contemporary migrants from the traditional sending countries of Haiti and Mexico and earlier groups of migrants in the United States.7 Transnational families have also been given a plethora of names such as astronaut families, bi-national families, and split households. By referring to the families in my study as “transnational,” I draw from recent literature that illustrates how various social fields, one of which is the family, operate through the regular circulation of goods, resources, individuals, and information across national borders.8 Literature on transnational families establishes that their formation is simultaneously a structural and cultural process. Migrants form transnational households in response to structural forces of economic globalization and, in doing so, rely on cultural resources such as kin networks.9Missing from the literature, however, is the analysis of the emotional strains of parenting from a distance. At most, the strains of geographical separation, such as emotional stress and the higher risk of permanent separation, are given only a cursory glance.1 Studies have also not paid attention to intergenerational relations in these households.11 This article contributes to literature on transnational families by looking more deeply into the emotional strains of separation and by considering the perspective of children on transnational family life. Emotional Labor

The discourse on social relationships in the family has, surprisingly, neglected the emotional dimensions of family life, because emotion has often been considered “too personal” and “treated as if it has an existence independent of the social and cultural context.”12 To address the division of emotional work in transnational families, I turn to literature on women’s work, particularly discussions of emotional labor. Feminist scholarship has long contested the ideological construction that links women to nurturance. Still, the ideology of women as caretakers continues to constrain the productive labor activities of women in myriad ways including their sex segregation in jobs resembling “wife-and-mother roles.” This is the case not only in the United States but also in the Philippines.13This ideology extends to the workplace in another way and that is the greater expectation of women to provide care via emotional labor, a concept that refers to “the management of feeling to create a publicly observable facial and bodily display.” 1 Emotional labor is expected in traditional female occupations such as paid domestic work. For example, domestic workers are bound to the script of “maternalism and deference.” 15They are also made “ proto-mothers,” expected to mother two families, their

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1

own and that of their employers. They must provide companionship and care by acting as confidante and giving consolation to employers. These labor demands squeeze domestic workers of the energy and supplies needed to provide emotional care to their own families. As one quantitative study of the links between women ’s emotional labor at home and at work concludes, the scarcity hypothesis of emotional energy applies to jobs that involve caregiving much more than other types of jobs.1 Literature on emotional labor establishes that women are expected to nurture the emotional well-being of people at home and at work. Confronted with geographical distance, transnational mothers face the even greater challenge of providing emotional care to their children. If migrant Filipina domestic workers are to remain responsible for the emotional care of their families, children in female-headed transnational households are prone to suffer from a “care deficit.” 18 Methodology

This article is based primarily on open-ended interviews that I collected with female domestic workers in Rome and Los Angeles: forty-six in Rome and twenty-six in Los Angeles. I tape-recorded and transcribed fully each of my interviews, which were mostly conducted in Tagalog or Taglish (a hybrid of Tagalog and English), and then translated into English. I based my study on these two cities because they are two main destinations of Filipina migrants. A little less than five months in Rome in 1995 and 1996 gave me ample time to collect forty-six in-depth interviews with Filipina domestic workers. The interviews ranged from one and one-half to three hours in length. I collected an unsystematic sample of research participants by using chain and snowball referrals. To diversify my sample, I solicited research participants from various sites in the community (e.g., church, parks, and plazas). In Los Angeles, I collected a smaller sample of twenty-six in-depth interviews with Filipina domestic workers. These interviews range from one and one-half to three hours in length. I collected these interviews between April and September 1996. My smaller sample is due to the fact that, unlike their counterparts in Rome, Filipina migrants in Los Angeles are not concentrated in the informal service sector. Another factor contributing to the smaller sample in Los Angeles is their relatively small representation among domestic workers. Although present in the ethnic community, Filipinas are but a minority among the larger group of Latina domestics in the area. In the field research site of Los Angeles, tapping into the community began with the network of my mother ’s friends and relatives. To diversify my sample, I posted flyers in various ethnic enclave businesses. Two women responded to the flyers. Utilizing networks of domestic workers, the sample of interviewees was collected unsystematically through a snowball method. Participant observation provided a gateway to the community as I attended meetings of Filipino labor groups, the occasional Filipino town fiestas and the more frequent Filipino family parties, and spent time with domestic workers at their own and at their employers’ homes.

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My interviews with domestic workers provide a limited sample of children who grew up in transnational households. None of the twenty-six women interviewed in Los Angeles are second generation transnationals. Of the forty-six women interviewed in Rome, only six were raised in transnational households. To gain the perspective of children, I supplement my data using a variety of sources. First, I rely on ten in-depth interviews that I had collected with children who grew up in transnational households. These interviews were conducted in Los Angeles in November and December 1994. Second, I look at writings of children featured in the transnational monthly “Tinig Filipino”. This magazine caters to migrant Filipina domestic workers and circulates in at least a dozen countries. Most issues feature articles and reprinted letters that voice the perspective of children on transnational family life. Finally, I rely on the earlier cited survey conducted by Victoria Paz Cruz with more than 300 children who are growing up with absentee migrant parents in the Philippines and her attached supplementary survey of more than ninety guardians. The survey of 212 high school and college students with international migrant parents and ninety with internal migrant parents living elsewhere in the Philippines measures the social impact of migration on the family and assesses the effects of the prolonged absence of migrant parents on children. Characteristics of Sample

Although there are distinguishing characteristics between my interviewees in Rome and Los Angeles, they also share many social characteristics. Differences between them include regional origin and median age. Interestingly, there are more similarities between them. First, most of them are legal residents of their respective host societies. In Italy, thirty of forty-six interviewees have a permesso di soggiorno (permit to stay), which grants them temporary residency for seven years. Most of my informants are documented because Italy has regularly granted amnesties to undocumented migrants. For example, the state awarded them in 1987, 1990, 1995, and 1997. 20 With the legislation of the Martelli Law in 1990, migrant Filipina domestic workers became eligible to sponsor the migration of their families. Nonetheless, most of my interviewees have chosen not to sponsor the migration of their children. In Los Angeles, fifteen of twenty-six interviewees have legal documents. Most of the women acquired permanent legal status by marriage or the sponsorship of a wealthy employer. Yet many have not been able to sponsor the migration of dependents, because they have been caught in the legal bind of obtaining legal status only after their children had reached adult age, when they are no longer eligible for immediate family reunification. Another similarity between my interviewees in Rome and Los Angeles is their high level of educational attainment. Most of them have acquired some years of postsecondary training in the Philippines. In Rome, my interviewees include twenty-three women with college degrees, twelve with some years of college or postsecondary vocational training, and seven women who completed high school. In Los Angeles, my interviewees include eleven women with college diplomas, eight with some years of college or postsecondary vocational training, and five who completed high school. Finally, more than one-half of my interviewees are married women with children. I was surprised to stumble upon this fact, because studies have indicated that Filipina

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migrants are usually young and single women.21 Only five of twenty-six interviewees in Los Angeles and less than one-half (nineteen) in Rome are never married single women. Women with children in the Philippines constitute a greater portion of my sample: twenty-five of forty-six in Rome and fourteen of twenty-six in Los Angeles. The median age of interviewees suggests that the children of women in Rome are fairly young, and in Los Angeles, the children are older. The median age of my interviewees in Los Angeles is high at fifty-two. The youngest research participant is thirty-three, while the oldest is sixty-eight years old. What explains the extremely high median age of domestic workers in Los Angeles? We can surprise that younger immigrant Filipino women are not attracted to domestic work because of its isolating nature. They can choose to avoid domestic work, because compared with other immigrant groups, their knowledge of the English language gives them access to other types of employment. In Rome, the median age of interviewees is thirty-one years old, significantly lower than my sample in Los Angeles. Although only four women fall under the age of twenty-five, the oldest woman is sixty-six years old. In contrast to the trend for shorter periods of separation among Mexican migrant families, the duration of separation among Filipina migrant domestic workers extends to more than two years for most families, usually encompassing the entire duration of settlement. 22Significantly, parents with legal documents return to the Philippines sporadically. On average, they visit their children every four years for a period of two months. They attribute the infrequency of their return to the high cost of airfare and to the fact they cannot afford to take time off work. In addition, the fear of losing their jobs prevents them from visiting their families for an extended period of time. As they are limited to short visits to the Philippines, traveling is seen as an excessive expense of funds that could otherwise be used on meeting the costs of reproducing the family. The Structural Context of Mothering from a Distance

The globalization of the market economy has triggered a high demand for female workers from developing nations, such as the Philippines, to supply low-wage service labor in more developed nations. In postindustrial nations such as the United States and Italy, their low-wage service labor (e.g., hotel housekeeping and domestic work) is needed by the growing professional population in global cities, meaning new economic centers where specialized professional services (e.g., legal, financial, accounting, and consulting services) are concentrated.2 In newly industrialized countries, such as Taiwan and Malaysia, globalization and the rise of manufacturing production has also generated a demand for lowwage service migrant workers. Production activities in these economies have subsumed the traditional proletariat female work force who would otherwise perform low-wage service jobs such as domestic work. This shift in labor market concentration has generated a need for the lower wage labor of women from neighboring countries in Asia to fill the demand for service employment.2 In globalization, even though the “denationalized” economy demands the low-wage service labor of female migrants, the “renationalized” society neither wants the responsibility for the reproductive costs of these workers nor grants them the membership accorded by the contributions of their labor to the economic growth of receiving nations.25 The entrance of migrant Filipina domestic workers into the global economy is wrought by

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structural constraints that restrict their incorporation into receiving nations. For example, various countries limit the term of their settlement to temporary labor contracts and deny 26 entry to their spouses and children. As a result, migrant Filipina domestic workers with children are forced to mother from a distance. Receiving nations curb the integration of migrant Filipina domestic workers so as to guarantee to their economies a secure source of low-wage labor. By containing the costs of reproduction in sending countries, wages of migrant workers can be kept to a minimum. Moreover, by restricting the incorporation of migrants, receiving nations can secure for their economies a supply of low-wage workers who could easily be repatriated if the economy is slow. Sending the message that only the production and not the reproduction of their labor is desired, nations such as Singapore and Malaysia prohibit the marriage or cohabitation of migrant Filipina domestic workers with native citizens. 27 Pregnancy is furthermore prohibited for Filipina migrants in the Middle East and Asia.28 The liberal states of the United States and Italy are not exempt from the trend of “renationalization.” In the United States, for example, lawmakers are entertaining the promotion of temporary labor migration and the elimination of certain preference categories for family reunification, including the preference categories for adult children and parents of U.S. citizens and permanent residents, the trend being to continue the labor provided by migrants but to discontinue support for their reproduction. In Italy, the “guest worker ” status of migrant Filipinos coupled with their restricted options in the labor market encourages the maintenance of transnational households. Only in a few countries are migrant Filipina domestic workers eligible for family reunification. They include Canada, the United States, and Italy. However, many structural factors deter migrant Filipina domestic workers in these countries from sponsoring the migration of their children. For instance, the occupational demands of domestic work make it difficult for them to raise their children in these host societies. In Italy, low wages force most day workers to work long hours. In the United States, most of my research informants are live-in domestic workers. As such, their work arrangement limits the time that they can devote to the care of their own families. Consequently, as I have argued elsewhere, the increasing demand for migrant women to alleviate the reproductive labor of the growing number of working women in postindustrial nations has sparked the formation of an international division of reproductive labor. Under this system, migrant Filipina domestic workers perform the reproductive labor of class-privileged women in industrialized countries and are forced to leave their children behind in the Philippines. Many in turn have had to hire other women in the Philippines to perform their own household work. In fact, many of the women in my study employ paid domestic workers to care for their families in the Philippines. In this sense, we can see the formation of a three-tier chain of the commodification of mothering between middle-class women in the United States and Italy; migrant Filipina domestic workers; and Filipina domestic workers in the Philippines who are too poor to afford the costs of emigration. Filipina migrants leave or send children back to the Philippines in order to mediate other structural forces of globalization, including the unequal level of economic development between sending and receiving nations and the rise of anti-immigrant sentiments. Negotiating the unequal development of regions in the global economy, migrant

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Filipina domestic workers mother from a distance to take advantage of the lower costs of reproducing, feeding, housing, clothing, and educating the family in the Third World. In doing so, they are able to provide their families with a secure middle-class lifestyle. The lesser costs of reproduction in sending countries, such as the Philippines, enable them to provide greater material benefits for their children, including the luxury of paid domestic help and more comfortable housing as opposed to cramped living quarters forced by high rents in global cities. In this way, the family can expedite its goals of accumulating savings and property. Migrants also form transnational households in response to the pressure of nativism in receiving societies. Nativist grassroots organizations (e.g., Americans for Immigration Control and Legalin Northern Italy) aimed at the further restriction and exclusion of immigration have sprouted throughout the United States and Italy. With anti-immigrant sentiments brewing, migrant parents may not want to expose their children to the racial tensions and anti-immigrant sentiments fostered by the social and cultural construction of low-wage migrants as undesirable citizens. These structural constraints prolong the length of family separation in migration as it may even extend to a span of a life cycle. Among my interviewees, for example, the length of separation between mothers and their now adult children extends to sixteen years. The Pain of Mothering from a Distance

When the girl that I take care of calls her mother “ Mama,” my heart jumps all the time because my children also call me “ Mama.”... I begin thinking that at this hour I should be taking care of my very own children and not someone else’ s, someone who is not related to me in any way, shape, or form... The work that I do here is done for my family, but the problem is they are not close to me but are far away in the Philippines. Sometimes, you feel the separation and you start to cry. Some days, I just start crying while I am sweeping the floor because I am thinking about my children in the Philippines. Sometimes, when I receive a letter from my children telling me that they are sick, I look up out the window and ask the Lord to look after them and make sure they get better even without me around to care after them. (Starts crying.) If I had wings, I would fly home to my children. Just for a moment, to see my children and take care of their needs, help them, then fly back over here to continue my work . (Author ’s emphasis.) (Rosemarie Samaniego, widowed, Rome, migrated in 1991,

children are ten, twelve, fifteen, eighteen, and nineteen years old.)

31

Everyday Filipina domestic workers such as Rosemarie Samaniego are overwhelmed by feelings of helplessness: they are trapped in the painful contradiction of feeling the distance from their families and having to depend on the material benefits of their separation. They may long to reunite with their children but cannot, because they need their earnings to sustain their families. Emotional strains of transnational mothering include feelings of anxiety, helplessness, loss, guilt, and the burden of loneliness. Mothers negotiate these emotional strains in three central ways: the commodification of love; the repression of emotional strains; and the rationalization of distance, that is, they use regulation communication to ease distance. In general, individual women use all three coping mechanisms, although not always consciously. For the most part, they justify their decision to leave their children behind in the Philippines by highlighting the material gains of the family. And they struggle to

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maintain a semblance of family life by rationalizing distance. Although a few women explicitly deny the emotional strains imposed by separation on their children, most women admit to the emotional difficulties that they themselves feel. Knowing that they have missed the growing years of children, mothers admit experiencing loss of intimacy in transnational families. In general, a surreal timelessness is felt during separation that is suddenly catapulted back to reality the moment the family reunites. When I came home, my daughters were teenagers already. (Starts crying.) When I saw my family, I dropped my bag and asked who were my daughters. I did not know who they were but they just kept on screaming “ Inay, Inay!” [Mom, Mom!] I asked them who was who and they said “ I ’m Sally and I ’m Sandra.” We were crying. I did not know who was who. Imagine! But they were so small when I left and there they were as teenagers... (Ermie Contado, widowed, Rome, migrated

in 1981, daughters followed her in early 1990s.) Confronted with the absence of familiarity, transnational mothers often feel an unsurmountable loss over their prolonged separation from their children. For the women in my study, this pain is usually aggravated by caretaking tasks of domestic work. Taking care of children is not just taking care of children when, in the process of doing so, one cannot take care of one’s own children. This contradiction accentuates the pain of domestic work and results in their simultaneous aversion and desire for this job. Ruby Mercado, a domestic worker, states: “Domestic work is depressing... you especially miss your children. I do not like taking care of other children when I could not take care of my own. It hurts too much.” Although a few domestic workers resolve this tension by avoiding childcare, many also resolve it by “ pouring love,” including Trinidad Borromeo, who states, “When I take care of an elderly, I treat her like she is my own mother.” As I have noted, transnational mothers cope with the emotional tensions of mothering from a distance by commodifying love. In the field, I often heard women say: “I buy everything that my children need.” or “I give them everything they want.” Transnational parents knowingly or unknowingly have the urge to overcompensate for their absence with material goods. Ruby Mercado states: All the things that my children needed I gave to them and even more because I know that I have not fulfilled my motherly duties completely. Because we were apart (since 1983), there have been needs that I have not met. I try to hide that gap by giving them all the material things that they desire and want. I feel guilty because as a mother I have not been able to care for their daily needs. So, because I am lacking in giving them maternal love, I fill that gap with many material goods…

Unable to provide her four children (now between the ages of eighteen and twentysix) with daily acts of caregiving, Ruby, not unlike other transnational mothers, feels insecure about the emotional bonds in her family. As a result, she has come to rely on commodities to establish concrete ties of familiar dependency.

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Transnational parents struggle with and do have regrets over separation, but they are able to with stand these hardships because of the financial gains that they have achieved in migration. I have been lonely here. I have thought about the Philippines while I am scrubbing and mopping that floor. You cannot help but ask yourself what are you doing here scrubbing and being apart from your family. Then, you think about the money and know that you have no choice but to be here. (Incarnacion Molina,

separated, Rome, migrated in 1991, two daughters in late adolescence.) By working outside of the Philippines, parents obtain the financial resources that they need to ensure that their children eat daily meals of meat and rice, attend college, and have secure housing. Although many migrant laborers outside of the Philippines have attained some years of post secondary education, they have not been able to achieve a “secure” middle-class lifestyle in the Philippines. So, why do they bother to invest in their children’s college education? The education of children is a marker of material security for migrant parents. It is a central motivating factor for migration. As a domestic worker states, “The intelligence of my children would be wasted if they don ’t attain a college degree, that’s why I made up my mind and I prayed a lot that I have a chance to go abroad for the sake of my children ’s education.” 32 Parents believe that the more educated children there are in their families, the greater the resources of the family and the lesser the dependence of family members on each other, which means there would be less need for a family member to work outside of the Philippines in order to support other members of the family. Migrant mothers also cope with separation by repressing the emotional tensions in transnational families. Considering that larger structural forces of globalization deny migrant Filipina domestic workers the right to family reunification, they sometimes cannot afford to confront their feelings. As Dorothy Espiritu — a widowed domestic worker in Los Angeles who left her four (now adult) children between the ages of nine and eighteen — explains, lingering over the painful sacrifice of separation only intensifies the emotional hardships of providing the family with material security. In answer to my question of whether it has been difficult not seeing her children for twelve years, she answered: If you say it is hard, it is hard. You could easily be overwhelmed by the loneliness you feel as a mother, but then you have to have the foresight to overcome that. Without the foresight for the future of your children, then you have a harder time. If I had not had the foresight, my children would not be as secure as they are now. They would not have had a chance. (Pauses.) What I did was I put the loneliness aside. I put everything aside. I put the sacrifice aside. Everything, Now, I am happy that all of them have completed college.

Although mothers usually admit that emotional strains are engendered by geographical distance, they also tend to repress them. In fact, some of my interviewees strategically cope with physical distance by completely denying its emotional costs. It had

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primarily been mothers who had two sets of children, one in the Philippines and the other abroad, who preferred not to discuss intergenerational relationships at all. Despite their tendency to downplay the emotional tensions wrought by the formation of transnational households, migrant mothers struggle to amend this loss by regularly keeping in contact with their children in the Philippines. To fulfill their mothering role from afar, they compress time and space and attempt to counter the physical distance in the family via the telephone and letter writing. Most of my interviewees phone and write their children at least once every two weeks. In doing so, they keep abreast of their children’s activities and at the same time achieve a certain level of familiarity and intimacy. As Patricia Baclayon of Los Angeles states: “There is nothing wrong with our relationship. I pay a lot for the phone bill. Last month, I paid $170 and that’s two days of wages. They write too. Last week, I received four letters.” Ironically, the rationalization of transnational distance in the family, while reassuring for parents, could be stifling for children in the Philippines. At the very least, parents are more likely to consider prolonging separation, as they are reassured that separation is manageable and does not mean the loss of intimacy. The “ power geometry ” in the process of time-space compression is elucidated by feminist geographer Doreen Massey as having created distinct experiences: This point concerns not merely the issue of who moves and who doesn ’t, although that is an important element of it; it is also about power in relation to the flows and the movement. Different social groups [in this case mothers and children] have distinct relationships to this anyway differentiated mobility: some people are more in charge of it than others; some initiate flows and movement, others don’t; some are more on the receiving end of it than others; some are effectively imprisoned by it.” 33 In transnational families, power clearly lies with the parent, in particular the migrant parent. The process of time-space compression is unidirectional with children at the receiving end. Migrant parents initiate calls as children receive them. Migrant parents remit money to children physically immobilized in the Philippines. Children are trapped as timespace compression convinces parents that they have maintained close-knit ties and allows them to keep their children waiting even longer. From the commodification of love to the “technological” management of distance, my interviewees have found many ways to cope with family separation. Although they ease the barriers that spatial distance has imposed on their families, many still feel that intimacy can only be fully achieved with great investment in time and daily interactions in the family.

The Pain of Growing Up in Transnational Families

Regardless of household structure, whether it is nuclear, single parent, or transnational, intergenerational conflicts frequently arise in the family. As many feminist scholars have argued, the family is not a collective unit. Instead, the family represents an institution with conflicting interests, priorities, and concerns for its members. In

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transnational households, intergenerational conflicts are engendered by the e motional strains of family life. Children also suffer from the emotional costs of geographical distance with feelings of loneliness, insecurity, and vulnerability. They also crave greater intimacy with their migrant parents. For example, the children in Victoria Paz Cruz’s survey offer several reasons for their desire to reunite with their migrant parents: “I want them to share with us in our daily life and I want our family to be complete”; “So that they will be there when we need them”; and “We can share our laughters and tears.34” Denied the intimacy of daily interactions, children struggle to understand the motives behind their mothers’ decision to raise them from a distance. Unfortunately, they do not necessarily do so successfully. Three central conflicts plague intergenerational relationships between migrant mothers and the children whom they have left behind in the Philippines. First, children disagree with their mothers that commodities are sufficient markers of love. Second, they do not believe that their mothers recognize the sacrifices that children have made toward the successful maintenance of the family. Finally, although they appreciate the efforts of migrant mothers to show affection and care, they still question the extent of their efforts. They particularly question mothers for their sporadic visits to the Philippines. As I have noted, most of the mothers whom I interviewed return to the Philippines infrequently, once every four years. For the most part, children recognize the material gains provided by separation. The survey of Paz Cruz, for instance, indicates that around 60 percent of children do not wish for their parents to stop working abroad. Nonetheless, they are not as convinced as are their mothers that financial stability is worth the emotional costs of separation. Claribelle Ignacio, a thirty-six year old, single, domestic worker in Rome, laments the loss of intimacy in her family: My mother went to the United States and worked as a domestic worker... She went to the States for a long time, when I was still young. I was separated from her for a long time but she did go home every year. She just wanted to go to the States to be able to provide a good future for us... I can say that it is very different to be away from the mother. Even if you have everything, I can say your family i s broken. Once the father, mother, and children no longer have communication, even if you are materially stable, it is better to be together. If a child wants material goods, they also want maternal love. That is still important. When I was a kid, I realized that it is better if we stayed together and my parents carried regular day jobs... It is best if the family stays whole, as whole as it can be.

For children left behind in the Philippines, “staying together ” and keeping the family “whole” are worth much more than achieving financial security. Children, however, can make such sweeping claims more easily, because the material security provided by migrant parents affords them the luxury of demanding greater emotional security; it is highly unlikely that impoverished children would make similar demands. A theme that resonates in the writings of children in Tinig Filipino is the calling for the return of migrating mothers. Children usually place their argument in either or terms: “money or family.” 35 For example, a letter written by a son reads: “Mom, come home. Even

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it means that I will no longer receive new toys or chocolates. Even if it means that I won ’t get new clothes anymore, just36being close to you will make me happy. Dad and I are so lonely here without you.” The binary construction of “money or family” suggests that children consider these two to be mutually exclusive choices for their mothers. It also suggests that mothers care more about money than family. if

A letter written by Nina Rea Arevalo to her mother indicates that children recognize that mothers sacrifice the intimacy of family life for the sake of their children ’s material security. Despite this fact, children like Nina still demand the return of their mothers. They reason that the emotional gratification brought by the intimacy of everyday life is worth more than material security: My dear mother:

How are you over there? Us, we’ re here wishing you were with us... Mom, I was still very young when you left me with Kuya [older brother], Ate [older sister] and Dad. I still did not know the meaning of sadness... Do you know that they would cry when they read your letters? Me, I would just look at them. I grew up actually believing that letters are supposed to be read while crying. Mom, I am older now and I know how to read and write. How many Christmases have passed since I was born? I still have not experienced this day with you with me. I know that you love us very much and that you sacrifice and suffer being away from us so that you could meet our needs. That is why we love you completely and so much. Mom, I am getting older and I need someone guiding and supporting me and that is you. I don’ t want to be rich. Instead I want you with me, Mom. Doesn’ t God say that a family should always be together through hardships and happiness? But why are you far away from us? Mom, Christmas is here again. That ’ s why you should come home soon. I don’ t want anything else but you with me, Mom. Kuya and Ate read somewhere that Filipino workers in other shores are the heroes of our country. But Mom, come back and you will be the queen that I will be with every day. My wish is that you come home this coming Christmas. Your youngest child, Nina Rea

37

The poignant letter expresses the disposition of children in transnational families: they hunger for emotional bonds with absentee parents and wish for the intimacies of everyday interactions.

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Children want their mothers to return to the Philippines in order to amend the emotional distance wrought by separation. For many, such as Evelyn Binas, geographical distance has created an irreparable gap in intergenerational relations. After graduating from college with a degree in computer science in 1994, Evelyn joined her mother in Rome, where they live in a room in the home of her mother ’s employer. Left in the Philippines at the age of ten with her father, brother, and sister, Evelyn still holds a deep-seated resentment against her mother. When asked if she was close to her mother, Evelyn replied: No. There is still a gap between us. We got used to not having a mother, even my brother and sister in the Philippines... I was independent. I always felt that I didn’ t need someone guiding me... Even though we are [now] living together, there is still this gap... My mother came home when I was in my second and fourth year of high school and then fourth year of college... When my mother was home, we felt that our house was too crowded. We never stayed — we always went out. Whenever she was there, we never stayed home.

Do you think that you will ever be close to your mom? No, not really. I don’ t think that I will really know how to open up to her... She should have gone home more frequently (author ’ s emphasis). In Christmas, I hated the fact that our family was not complete and I would see other families together. I don’ t think that we needed to come here to survive as a family. I see the homeless surviving together in the Philippines and if they are surviving, why did my mother have to come here? My classmates were so jealous of me because of all my designer things. They tell me that they envy me because my mom is abroad. I tell them: “ Fine, she is abroad but we are not complete.” Since the fourth grade, this is the first time that I actually spent Christmas with my mother...

In contrast to other children, Evelyn asserts that she never looked forward to seeing her mother, yet believes that “she should have gone home more frequently.” Evelyn resents her mother for rarely coming back to the Philippines. Although unable to express her feelings fully, Evelyn cites the presence of a “gap” that hinders her ability to communicate with and relate to her mother. Bitter about her mother ’s prolonged absence from her life, Evelyn is sadly resigned to a permanent emotional rift between them. Although the weakening of emotional links in transnational families can be eased by the efforts of mothers to communicate with and visit their children regularly, they can also be tempered by the support provided by extended kin. Jane Sapin, for example, grew up (from age six on) with her grandmother, when her mother, followed by her father after two years, began working in Italy. Almost eighteen by the time she joined her parents and sisters in Rome, Jane found support and security from her extended family in the Philippines: It was not hard growing up without my parents because I grew up with my grandmother. So it wasn’ t so bad. I ’m sure there was a time when there were affairs that you should be accompanied by your parents. That ’ s what I missed. …I wasn’ t angry with them. At that early age, I was mature. I used to tell my mother that it was fine that we were apart, because we were eventually going to be

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reunited… I see my mother having sacrificed for our sake so that she could support us financially…

Even at a young age in the Philippines, Jane had already acknowledged the sacrifices of her parents, especially her mother, and had been secure in the knowledge that her parents sought employment abroad not just for their personal interests but also for the collective interest of the family. In contrast to Evelyn Binas, Jane does not resent her mother for visiting the family infrequently but in fact sees that her few visits, the first being when Jane was already ten years old, entailed sacrifices that she undertook for the sake of her children. The extended family provides tremendous support to transnational families. Among my interviewees, it is mostly other relatives and not fathers who care for the children left behind in the Philippines. Of those in Los Angeles with young dependents, seven have their children cared for by other relatives, usually grandparents or female relatives, and five have them cared for by fathers. In Rome, nine women left their children with fathers and seventeen left them with other relatives. Even with the presence of other relatives, insecurities still arise among the children left behind in the Philippines. Between the ages of five and ten, Cesar Gregorio, a college student in the United States, had lived in the Philippines without either of his parents. He recalls growing up “feeling insecure,” because he didn’t know when he was going to see his parents again. By bearing the insecurities generated by parental absence, children such as Cesar sacrifice for the transnational family’s success. Thus, children also want parents to recognize the sacrifices that they make to keep the family intact through separation: But I don’ t blame my parents for my fate today, because they both sacrifice just to give us our needs and I just got my part... And now, I realize that having a parent abroad may be a financial relief. But it also means a lot more. The overseas contract worker suffers lots of pain. They really sacrifice a lot. But, hey, please don’ t forget that your kids also have lots of sacrifices to give, aside from growing up without a parent. Specifically, for those who thought that sending money is enough and they’ ve already done their responsibilities, well, think again, because there are more than this. Your children need your love, support, attention, and affection. You can still be with your children although you really are not. You can let them feel you can be their best friends. And that you’ re still beside them no matter what, because distance is not a hindrance to a better relationship... It ’ s not only one person who suffers when an overseas contract worker leaves for abroad. All his or her loved ones do. And the children are the first on the list. The whole family bears the aches and pains just to achieve a better future.

Childhood in transnational families does not just entail the luxury of receiving monthly remittances and care packages but also includes the often unrecognized hardship of receiving less “love, support, attention, and affection.” Children recognize the efforts of their mothers to provide emotional and material care from a far. They know that their mothers call regularly and remit funds every month. However, they still want their mothers to return to the Philippines. This is regardless of the efforts of mothers to maintain ties with their children. For example, both Claribelle Ignacio, whose mother returned to the Philippines every year, and Evelyn Binas, whose mother returned far less frequently, share the opinion that they would rather have had their mothers

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work in the Philippines. They both insist that by not returning home, their mothers failed to recognize the emotional difficulties of the children whom they had left behind. Based on the writings in Tinig Filipino and my interviews with children, it seems that children are not convinced that emotional care can be completely provided by the support of extended kin, the financial support of migrant mothers, and weekly telephone conversations. As an eighteen year old female college student in Paz Cruz’s survey suggests, “guidance, attention, love, and care” can only be completely given by “family togetherness”: I will tell my friend to convince her mother not to go abroad but to look for a profitable means of livelihood such as planting, embroidery, etc. Two years being with the family is more worthy compared to the dollars she might earn abroad. Is it enough to show our love in terms of wealth? I think it ’ s not. We need the warmth of love of our fellowmen, especially our parents. We need their guidance, attention, love, and care to live happily and contented. I will make her mother realize the value of family togetherness... If only all Filipinos aim to have a simple life, not the luxurious one, then, there is no need to leave our country to earn more money. 39

Children seem to have this ingrained desire for their mothers to return “home,” suggesting that mothers are somehow at fault for working outside the Philippines. In the next section, I further deconstruct the emotional insecurities of children so as to explain why. My discussion shows that the tendency of children to view transnational mothering as an insufficient way of providing emotional care in the family emerges from socialized expectations of traditional mothering. I argue that the intergenerational conflicts engendered by emotional tensions in transnational households are aggravated by the traditional ideological system of the patriarchal nuclear family. Emotions and Gender in Transnational Families

The material and emotional interests in the social institution of the family are shaped and guided by an underlying ideological system. 40 Ideology, according to Stuart Hall, refers “to those images, concepts, and premises which provide the frameworks through which we represent, interpret, understand, and ‘make sense’ of some aspect of social existence. ”41 As a final discussion, I propose that the emotional interests of the children of migrant Filipina domestic workers are ideologically determined. This is a springboard to further explore the painful feelings of mothers and children in transnational households. I specifically wish to excavate the social category of gender and map its influence on the emotional tensions affecting mothers and children in transnational families. In this section, I argue that the gender division of labor in the Filipino nuclear family, with fathers expected to economically sustain the family and mothers to reproduce family life, generates the emotional stress in transnational families. In contrast to other Asian countries, the Philippines has a more egalitarian gender structure. For example, the kinship system is bilateral and women have a comparable level of educational attainment to men. Moreover, women have a high rate of participation in the productive labor force. In fact, by 1994, women constituted 60 percent of deployed overseas contract workers from the Philippines.43 Despite the more egalitarian gender structure in the Philippines, ideological constructs of 44 feminine identity still follow the cult of domesticity.

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In fact, the denial of maternal love is regarded as child abuse in the diaspora. As a domestic worker states: “Just [by] leaving [children] in the custody of fathers or relatives, we have already abused them. We have denied them their right of a motherly love and care.” 45 In the Philippines, transnational households are considered “abnormal,” called ‘ broken homes,” and therefore viewed as a social and cultural tragedy.46 Transnational households are considered ‘ broken” because the maintenance of this household diverges from traditional expectations of cohabitation in the family; they do not meet the traditional division of labor in the family, and they swerve from traditional practices of socialization in the family. The socialization of children is expected to come from direct parental supervision as well as from other adults, but the geographic distance in transnational households impedes the ability of mothers to provide direct supervision to their children. 47 To downplay the formation of ‘ broken homes,” the government claims that most of their “economic heroes” are in fact non-mothers (i.e., men or single women). It seems that it was not until the mid-1980s with the larger flow of female migration did the “ problem” of the “ broken home” turn into a national crisis. In the early 1970s to early 1980s, when men still dominated the flow of migration, the traditional ideological foundation of the family remained stable. Migration did not question the division of labor in the family as husbands continued to economically sustain family life while mothers reproduced it. The spatial division of labor remained unchanged with the father earning wages outside the physical confines of the home and the mother nurturing the protective environment of this space. The out migration of women, including many mothers, broke down this traditional division of labor, leaving many to wonder how one could leave fathers the primary parent responsible for reproducing the family. Such an “abnormal” arrangement clearly illustrates that the Filipino family is in fact now ‘ broken” because it no longer fits the ideal nuclear household model. A striking image on the December 1994 cover of Tinig Filipino shows a Filipino family surrounded with traditional holiday decor. The father, clutching a sleeping baby with his right hand, raises the traditional Christmas lantern by the window as his other son, who looks around five years old, holds on to a stuffed animal next to his older sister in her early teens. The family portrait evokes a feeling of holiday celebration as the caption states: “Pamilya’y Masaya Kung Sama-sama” (The family is happy when everyone is together). Yet, the picture is not supposed to call forth an image of celebration but directs the viewers to think of a ‘ broken family’ as a very small, highlighted subcaption strategically placed next to the family portrait asks in Italian: “ Perodov’ e mamma?” (but where is mama?). The sub-caption reminds readers that a mother, not a father, is supposed to be rocking the children to sleep. The image is supposed to invoke a feeling of loss as the man, not the woman, cares for the family. Although the prolonged absence of either a father or a mother leads to emotional costs, including emotional distance, in the family, the transnational family of women working outside the Philippines is often construed as more pathological. In the study of Paz Cruz, she found that 82.8 percent of the 302 students in her survey would advise their friends to “allow your parents to work abroad,” 48 but the breakdown of responses actually shows that 59.5 percent would advise friends to allow their fathers to go abroad, 19.7 percent would advise both parents, and only 3.6 percent would advise friends’ mothers to work abroad.48 Children are clearly less comfortable growing up with an absentee mother as only 3.6 percent of the students would advise friends to allow their mothers to work abroad. Paz Cruz’s findings should be clarified, for most children only seem comfortable with the idea of a father working outside the Philippines.

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The responses given by the youth to the question of what advice they would give friends whose parents are considering employment outside the Philippines also seem to fall within the grid of traditional gender norms in the family. Mother as nurturer: I’ll advise my friend not to allow her mother to go abroad. It’s better that her father go because mothers can’t do what fathers do. Mothers are closer to 49 their children than the father. She’s always present in times of difficulties and problems. Father as breadwinner: I’ll try to make her understand that it is the obligation of the father to provide for the family. With the present situation of the country, it’s understandable that the father will look for greener pastures. They want the best for their children. I’ll tell her she’s lucky, her father is sacrificing to give them a good education and a good home.50 These comments clearly follow the traditional gender division of labor of the patriarchal nuclear family. Notably, the ideological construction of the family controls not just the opinions of children but also their feelings and emotions concerning family separation. In my study, most families with young children fall under the category of one-parent abroad transnational family. Yet based on interviews with children and writings published in Tinig Filipino, children in transnational families generally claim that maternal absence has denied them the emotional care expected of the family. Claribelle Ignacio’s earlier comments (“if a child wants material goods, they also want maternal love,”) emphasizes the interplay of emotions and gender. The gender expectation of mothers to provide emotional care and “maternal love” is what is denied of more and more children in the Philippines. Yet, children’s feelings of emotional insecurity are only exacerbated by the belief that mothers are the only ones fit to provide care. The question then concerns whether fathers in the Philippines are able to provide the “maternal love” sorely missing from their children’s lives, if women are capable of assisting them with their ideologically prescribed role as the income producer. Unfortunately, fathers seem to avoid this responsibility. As I have noted, fathers are less apt to care for their children than are other female relatives. What happens if fathers do provide emotional care to their children? Although I do not want to underplay the pain of children in transnational households, I question the poignant pleas for emotional security of those whose fathers are present in their everyday lives. Recall Nina Rea, who reminded her mother that she left her when she was too young to read and write: “Mom, I am getting older and I need someone guiding and supporting me and that is you. I don ’t want to be rich. Instead I want you with me, Mom. ” As she asks her mother to return to the Philippines and finally to give her the “guidance” and “support” she has long been denied, I have to wonder what the father in the Philippines is doing. Why does he not give the much needed support to his daughter? Why can she not turn to him for the guidance expected of parents in the family? Is he not even trying to provide care, or does his daughter not recognize the care that he gives to his children? Unlike Nina Rea, Evelyn Binas recognizes that her father has nurtured and emotionally cared for her since the fourth grade but nonetheless still fails to appreciate her

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mother for economically sustaining the family with her earnings as a domestic worker in Rome. Since the fourth grade, my mother has been here in Rome. My father looked after me... Everyone had a mother while I was the only one without one. It was only my father around for me. Like in graduation, it would be my father putting the medals on me. I remember my father always being there for me. During lunch, he would bring me over some food. Did he work? No. He sometimes did some work. We had some land with fruits and vegetables. He would go there to harvest... So, he would do that work but not all the time. Beneath her long enumeration of all the family work of her very caring father is her silence about the contributions of her mother to the family and the underlying suggestion that her mother failed to perform the work that she should have done. In families such as Evelyn’s, I have to wonder if a shift and breakdown of ideological norms would lead to a different take on the emotional costs of separation. In sharp contrast to Evelyn’s continued resentment of her mother, even though she was raised by a very loving father, and in contrast to the bitter feelings children generally feel about transnational mothers, is the more blasé attitude of Rodney Catorce regarding the absence of his father throughout his childhood: I have always thought about it, my Dad being so far away from us for more than ten years now. I mean, how could he? I was barely eight years old when he left us to work abroad. He had to because he and Mom were having a hard time trying to make both ends meet for our family... Sometimes I wonder what if Dad didn ’ t gamble his luck abroad... Well, undoubtedly, we would not have missed him that much. He would not have missed us that much... He would have seen us grow up. Too bad, he was not able to. But then again, we would not be where we are now. We would not be living in our own house... I and my brothers and sisters would not be studying in great schools. Daddy would not have been a good provider... All these 51 considered, I am glad he did. True, he is away, but so what?

Recognizing the economic contributions of his father to the family and having been secure with the presence of his mother in the Philippines, Rodney did not experience a breakdown of the traditional division of labor in the family, a fact that seems to enable him to pose the question: “[My dad] is away, but so what?” quite easily. The reconstitution of gender ideologies in the family would not lessen the sacrifices of children in transnational families but would temper the pain of separation. By this I do not mean to imply that a shift in gender ideology would eliminate the emotional difficulties engendered by separation. Instead, I wish to suggest that children may come to appreciate the efforts of mothers to provide material care and a reconstituted form of emotional care from a distance. Moreover, they may begin to demand less family labor from their migrant mothers. For instance, they would not expect mothers to be primarily responsible for both the material and emotional care in the family. At the same time, they may achieve greater

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emotional security from the care provided by extended kin and, for some, the fathers left behind in the Philippines. The impassioned pleas of children for emotional care have to be understood within its ideological framework, which surprisingly has not shifted along with the drastic change in the gender division of labor instigated by the migration of women in so many families. Conclusion

Although enabling the family to maximize its earnings, the formation of femaleheaded transnational households also involves an emotional upheaval in the lives of transnational mothers and the children whom they have left behind in the Philippines. A central paradox in the maintenance of such households is the achievement of financial security going hand in hand with an increase in emotional insecurity, an impact that could however be softened by an alteration of the traditional gender ideologies in the family. In mapping out the emotional wounds imposed by geographical distance on mothers and children in transnational households, I do not mean to imply that these wounds can only be healed by the return of migrating mothers. Nor do I mean to suggest that mothers are somehow at fault for deciding to maximize their earning potential by working abroad and leaving children behind in the Philippines. The root causes of these wounds extend beyond the individual female migrant to larger structural inequalities that constrain the options that they have to provide their children with material, emotional, and moral care to the fullest. Various structural inequalities of globalization force them to sacrifice their emotional needs and those of their children for the material needs of the family. These inequalities include legal barriers preventing the migration of dependents; social stratification and the segregation of Filipino migrant workers to informal service employment in most host societies; economic globalization and the unequal level of development among nations; post industrialization and the demand for female migrant workers; and the rise of anti-immigrant sentiments in receiving nations. These emotional wounds are telling of the “stalled revolution” faced by women at the beginning of this millennium as they have yet to achieve full gender parity at home and at work.52The ideological foundation of the Filipino family has yet to experience a major rupture even with the high rate of women’s labor force participation. The responsibility for emotional care remains with women even in families with fathers who provide a tremendous amount of emotional care to their children and mothers who give a great deal of material care. It is true that feelings of pain in transnational families are fostered by separation; however, they are undoubtedly intensified by the failure in a great number of families to meet the gender-based expectations of children for mothers (and not fathers) to nurture them and also the self imposed expectations of mothers to follow culturally and ideologically inscribed duties in the family. As shown by the emotional tensions wrought by separation and the greater resentment of children about transnational mothers, rather than fathers, traditional notions of mothering haunt migrant women transnationally. Traditional views still have a deep hold on the most basic values of the youth in the Philippines. However, we can only hope that the “reconstitution of mothering” led by numerous female migrants from the Philippines will eventually seep into and shift the consciousness, values, and ideologies of the general public toward the acceptance of multiple variances of family life.

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Notes

This article benefited from comments and suggestions shared by Arlie Hochschild, Charlotte Chiu, Angela Gallegos, Mimi Motoyoshi, Jennifer Lee, a nd three anonymous readers. The University of California President ’s Office, Babilonia Wilner Foundation, and the Graduate School of University of Wisconsin, Madison, provided support during the writing of this article. 1.

See Victoria Paz Cruz, Seasonal Orphans and Solo Parents: The Impacts of Overseas Migration (Quezon City, Philippines: Scalabrini Migration Center, 1987); and Maruja Asis, “The Overseas Employment Program,” in Philippine Labor Migration: Impact and Policy, ed. Graziano Battistella and Anthony Paganoni (Quezon City, Philippines: Scalabrini Migration Center, 1992), 68 – 112. 2. By social reproduction, I refer, as defined by Barbara Laslett and Johanna Brenner, to “the activities and attitudes, behaviors and emotions, responsibilities and relationships directly involved in the maintenance of life on a daily basis, and intergenerationally.” See Barrie Thome, “Feminism and the Family: Two Decades of Thought, ” in Rethinking the Family: Some Feminist Questions, ed. Barrie Thome and Marilyn Yalom, rev. ed. (Boston: Northwestern University Press, 1992), 3 – 30. 3. For an excellent article on the reconstitution of mothering in transnational house holds, see Pierrette Hondagneu-Sotelo and Ernestine Avila, “‘I’m Here, but I ’m There’: The Meanings of Latina Transnational Motherhood, ” Gender and Society 11 (October 1997): 548 – 71. For a discussion of gender ideologies in the Philippines, see Delia Aguilar, The Feminist Challenge: Initial Working Principles toward Reconceptualizing the Feminist Movement in the Philippines (Metro Manila, Philippines: Asian Social Institute, 1988). 4. Evelyn Nakano Glenn, “Split Household, Small Producer, and Dual Wage Earner: An Analysis of

Chinese-American Family Strategies, ” Journal of Marriage and the Family 19 (February 1983): 35 – 46. 5. Arlie Hochschild, The Managed Heart: Commercialization of Human Feeling (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983), 85. 6. See Belinda Medina, The Filipino Family: A Text with Selected Readings (Quezon City, Philippines: University of the Philippines Press, 1991). 7. For contemporary transnational households, see Linda Basch, Nina Glick Schiller, and Christina Szanton Blanc, Nations Unbound: Transnational Projects, Postcolonial Predicaments, and Deterritorialized Nation-States (Langhorne, Penn.: Gordon & Breach Science Publishers, 1992); Leo Chavez, Shadowed Lives: Undocumented Immigrants in American Society (Fort Worth: Harcourt Brace College Publishers, 1992); Julia Curry, “Labor Migration and Familial Responsibilities: Experiences of Mexican Women, ” in Mexicanas at Work in the United States, ed. Margarita Melville (Houston: Mexican American Studies Program, University of Houston, 1988), 47 – 63; Pierrette HondagneuSotelo, Gendered Transitions: Mexican Experiences of Migration (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994); Michel Laguerre, “Headquarters and Subsidiaries: Haitian Immigrant Family Households in New York City, ” in Minority Families in the United States, ed. Ronald Taylor (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1994), 47 – 61; Douglas Massey et al., Return to Aztlan: The Social Process of International Migration from Western Mexico (Berkeley: University of 250


8.

9.

10. 11.

12.

13.

14. 15.

California Press, 1987); and Paz Cruz. For historical transnational house holds, see Glenn. See Basch, Schiller, and Blanc; and Roger Rouse, “Mexican Migration and the Social Space of Postmodernism, ” Diaspora 1, no. 1(1991): 8 – 23. Basch, Schiller, and Blanc; and Rhacel Salazar Parrefi.as, “ New Family Forms, Old Family Values: The Formation and Reproduction of the Filipino Transnational Family in Los Angeles,” in Asian America: A Multidisciplinary Reader, ed. Min Zhou and James V. Gatewood (New York: New York University Press, 1999). See Chavez; Curry; and HondagneuSotelo. Exceptions to this are the articles by Hondagneu-Sotelo and Avila; and Charlene Tung, “The Cost of Caring: The Social Reproductive Labor of Filipina Live-in Home Health Caregivers,” Frontiers 21, no. 1and 2 (2000): 61 – 82. Stevi Jackson, “Even Sociologists Fall in Love: An Exploration in the Sociology of Emotions, ” Sociology 27, no. 2 (1993): 201 – 20; Jean Duncombe and Dennis Marsden, “Love and Intimacy: The Gender Division of Emotion and ‘Emotion Work,”’ Sociology 27, no. 2 (1993): 221 – 24; and Amy S. Wharton and Rebecca J. Erickson, “The Consequences of Caring: Exploring the Links between Women ’s Job and Family Emotion Work, ” Sociological Quarterly 36 (spring 1995): 273 – 96. See Sylvia Chant and Cathy Mcllwaine, Women of a Lesser Cost: Female Labour, Foreign Exchange, and Philippine Development (London: Pluto Press, 1995); and Elizabeth Uy Eviota, The Political Economy of Gender: Women and the Sexual Division of Labour in the Philippines (London: Zed Books, 1992). Hochschild, Managed Heart, 7. Judith Rollins, Between Women: Domestics and Their Employers (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1985).

16. Mary Romero, Maid in the U.S.A. (New York: Routledge, 1992), 106. 17. Wharton and Erickson. 18. Arlie Hochschild, “Ideals of Care: Traditional, Postmodern, ColdModern, and Warm-Modern, ” in Families in the United States: Kinship and Domestic Politics, ed. Karen Hansen and Anita Ilta Garey (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1998). 19. I looked at almost all the issues of Tinig Filipino published between October 1994 and July 1996. A few back issues prior to May 1995 had been unavailable. 20. The sixteen women who reported their status as undocumented were eligible to obtain a permit to stay under the 1995 legislative decree, and because the decree had been in progress during my research, we can safely assume that most of these women are now official guest workers in Italy. 21. Examples of such studies include Christine Chin, In Service and Servitude: Foreign Female Domestic Workers and the Malaysian “Modernity ” Project (New York: Columbia University Press, 1998); and Catholic Institute for International Relations, The Labour Trade: Filipino Migrant Workers around the Globe (London: Catholic Institute for International Relations, 1987). 22. Hondagneu-Sotelo. 23. For excellent discussions on the labor market incorporation of migrants in urban centers of globalization, see Saskia Sassen, The Mobility and Flow of Labor and Capital (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988), and Cities in a World Economy (Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Pine Forge Press, 1994). 24. See Chin. 25. For a discussion of the “denationalization ” and “renationalization ” of societies in globalization, see Saskia Sassen, Losing Control? Sovereignty in an Age of Globalization (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996). 26. For instance, see Chin. 251


27. See Abigail Bakan and Daiva Stasiulis, introduction to Not One of the Family: Foreign Domestic Workers in Canada, ed. Abigail Bakan and Daiva Stasiulis (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1997), 3 – 27. 28. See Mary Lou Alcid, “Legal and Organizational Support Mechanisms for Foreign Domestic Workers, ” in The Trade in Domestic Workers, ed. Noeleen Heyzer et al. (London: Zed Books, 1994), 161 – 77; and Pei-Chia Lan, “Bounded Commodity in a Global Market: Migrant Workers in Taiwan” (paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the Society for the Study of Social Problems, Chicago, 6 – 8 Aug. 1999). 29. Rhacel Salazar Parreii.as, “Migrant Filipina Domestic Workers and the International Division of Reproductive Labor,” Gender and Society 14 (August 2000): 560 – 80. 30. See the anthology edited by Juan Perea, Immigrants Out! The New Nativism and the Anti-immigrant Impulse in the United States (New York: New York University Press, 1997). 31. I use pseudonyms to protect the anonymity of my informants. 32. Gloria Acgaoili, “Mother, Behold Your Child,” Tinig Filipino, May 1995, 14. Italicized sections are translated from Tagalog to English. 33. Doreen Massey, Space, Place, and Gender (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1994), 149. 34. Paz Cruz, 43. 35. Clarita U. Aratan, “Money or Family, ” Tinig Filipino, December 1994, 34. 36. Liza Daguio, “Family Still Number One, ” Tinig Filipino, February 1995, 40. Quotation is translated from Tagalog to English. 37. Nina Rea Arevalo, “Inay, Pasko na Naman,” Tinig Filipino, December

1994, 28. Letter is translated from Tagalog to English. 38. Junelyn Gonzaga, “Listen to Our Small Voices, ” Tinig Filipino, December 1995, 13. 39. Paz Cruz, 42. 40. Hans Medick and David Warren Sabean, “Interest and Emotion in Family Kinship Studies: A Critique of Social History and Anthropology, ” in Interest and Emotion: Essays on the Study of Family and Kinship, ed. Hans Medick and David Warren Sabean (Cam bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 9 – 27. 41. Yen Le Espiritu, Asian American Women and Men (Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage Publications, 1997), 12. 42. See Eviota. 43. Luz Rimban, “Filipina Diaspora, ” in Her Stories: Investigative Reports on Filipino Women in the 1990s, ed. Cecile C.A. Balgos (Quezon City, Philippines: Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism, 1999), 128. 44. Carolyn Israel-Sobritchea, “The Ideology of Female Domesticity: Its Impact on the Status of Filipino Women,” Review of Women ’s Studies 1, no. 1(1990): 26 – 41. 45. Jocelyn Mariano, “Child Abuse and OCWs,” Tinig Filipino, October 1995, 26 – 27. 46. Neferti Xina Tadiar, “Domestic Bodies of the Philippines, ” Sojourn 12, no. 2 (1997): 153 – 91. 47. See Medina for a discussion of cultural traditions in the Filipino family. 48. Paz Cruz, 38. 49. Ibid., 42. 50. Ibid., 40. 51. Rodney Catorce, “My Dad Is Away, So What?” Tinig Filipino, June 1995, 9. 52. Arlie Hochschild with Anne Machung, The Second Shift (New York: Avon Books, 1989).

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K

The Personalization of Politics: Political Identity, Social Media, and Changing Patterns of Participation

W. LANCE BENNETT

Time magazine made two interesting choices for its much-publicized person of the year in the first decade of the twenty-first century. In 2006, the person of the year was You. (Congratulations!) The cover contained a mirror in which the viewer ’s face appeared in place of the more customary photos of the heads of state or world figures that have set the tone since Time began giving the award in 1927.1The broad rationale for that surprising choice was the awareness that individuals were increasingly on their own in changing societies, yet empowered with proliferating social media and personalized communication technologies that enablea large number of ordinary people to become linked to and recognized by a large number of others. The year 2011 marked another interesting choice as The Protester graced the Time cover in the form of a masked and amorphous demonstrator who could have been male or female, or come from the Arab Spring in Tahrir Square, the indignados in Madrid or Barcelona, or any of the hundreds of Occupy camps in the United States or else where around the world (the image turned out to be a young woman from Occupy LA). The focus of a great deal of social, political, and economic life in the recent era has been up close and personal, as exemplified by an expanding number of self-help books, multiplying therapeutic talk programs, ever surprising reality TV genres with their strange assortment of everyday people picked from obscurity to become celebrities, and, everywhere, the consuming emphasis on personal lifestyle affordances as the building blocks for a meaningful life. (When asked Siri — the personal valet that Apple built into my iPhone — about the meaning of life, she told me that all the evidence points to chocolate.) Among the most interesting aspects of this era of personalization has been the rise of large-scale, rapidly forming political participation aimed at avariety of targets, from more traditional parties or candidates, to direct engagement with corporations, brands, and transnational policy forums. These mobilizations often include a multitude of issues brought into the same protests through a widely shared late modern ethos of diversity and inclusiveness. The identity politics of the “new social movements “that arose after the 1960s centered on group identity (women, minorities, immigrants, and native people) or cause issues (anti nuclear, environmental conservation, and specific rights) still exist, of course, but they have been joined by more heterogeneous mobilizations in which diverse causes such as economic justice (fairtrade, in equality, and development), environmental protection, and war and peace are directed at moving targets from local to national and transnational and from government to business. The more diverse the mobilization, the more personalized the expressions often become, typically involving communication technologies that allow individuals to activate their loosely tied social 2 networks. There are still plenty of conventional politics based on identification with parties, ideologies, and common causes. However, the rise of a more personalized politics has become a notable trend. The discussion here expands on Bennett and Segerberg (2011) and defines personalized politics as involving varying combinations of the following conditions:

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An ethos of diversity and inclusiveness defined by tolerance for different viewpoints and even different issues linked across loosely bounded political networks. The rise of crowd-sourced inclusive personal action frames (e.g. “We are the 99%”) that lower the barriers to identification. These easily personalized frames contrast with more conventional collective action frames (e.g. “eat the rich”) that may require more socialization and brokerage to propagate in large numbers. Participation is importantly channeled through often dense social networks over which people can share their own stories and concerns — the pervasive use of social technology enables individuals to become important catalysts of collective action processes as they activate their own social networks. Personalized politics has long existed, of course, in the form of populist uprisings or emotional bonds with charismatic leaders. The interesting difference in today’s participation landscape is that widespread social fragmentation has produced individuation as the modal social condition in postindustrial democracies, particularly among younger generations (Beck 3 2006; Bennett 1998; Giddens 1991). While individuals may be at the center of their own universes, those universes can be very large thanks to the social networking potential of ubiquitous communication technologies. These often dense communication networks enable political organization and expression that often lacks, or actively shuns, clear central leaders and organizations. Sometimes these networks are loosely coordinated by custom Web platforms that provide information, media hosting, and direct interaction among activists. Developing or adapting interactive media affordances also enables NGOs and social movement organizations to personalize the pathways to popular engagement with their issues (Bennett and Segerberg 2012). Even mainstream institutions such as political parties often find that personalized appeals to growing ranks of independent voters can help to engage them. As ideology and formal group identifications (e.g. party, union, church, or class) fade as the mechanisms for organizing civic life (Putnam 2000), individuals increasingly code their personal politics through personal lifestyle values (Bennett 1998; Giddens 1991). It is common for many of these lifestyle values to echo across the porous boundaries of product and political advertising. Is my car environmentally friendly? Are my fashion, food, or electronic devices worker friendly? Are my favored cause organizations or candidates expressing my personal values, and do they understand my pain or anger? These battles for individual emotions swirl around sustainable lifestyle initiatives among progressives, with much of the attention on consumer identifications that find easy outlets in corporate campaigns against McDonalds, Monsanto, Exxon, and even Apple. Personalized politics also extends well into more conventional issues and policy arenas, from the popular idea of a Robin Hood Tax in Europe, to the “occupation” of institutions, people, and ideas in the United States and elsewhere. 4 The inroads of personalized politics are by no means happening just on the Left and the center. In many ways, the right wing has become the default location for highly individualized discourses of personal freedom and market deregulation, resulting in heavy discounting of public goods and common interests.

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Different Communication Styles: Personalized Politics on the Left and Right

Many sorts of personalized collective action arise from the conservative Right. For example, most of the postindustrial democracies have seen the rise of hybrid nationalist movements as diverse as the Tea Party in the United States, the years of Berlusconi/Northern League rule in Italy, and the Sweden Democrats. Similar to traditional nationalist populist movements, these late modern hybrids invite followers to define “true citizens” as “ people like me” (e.g. a white, hard-working native-born citizen) and not those immigrants who come to live off my hard-earned tax money. Beyond this, the nationalist hybrids invite highly personalized forms of expression against any number of emotional targets. In this process, personal emotion becomes self-validating. Participants can pick their own outlets for anger, from race or sexual preference, to the many perceived government restrictions on personal freedoms. Seeming contradictions melt away in feelings of personal entitlement, as when Tea Party identifiers make exceptions for government Medicare programs that benefit them because they believe that, unlike undeserving immigrants or minorities on welfare, they have worked hard to earn their benefits (Skocpol and Williamson 2012). If personalized politics still exhibits some echoes of old conservative ideology, it is in the neoliberal consensus of the recent era of globalization, in which free markets and free consumers were heralded as the paths to prosperity and democratic development. (It is not surprising that Ayn Rand and von Hayek made comebacks in this era.) The conservative end of the personalized politics spectrum is heavy with references to personal freedom and highly emotional reactions to attempts to adjust the social equity balance in schools, health care, or income, which are seen as threats to that freedom. The extreme personal attacks on President Obama that were part of the right-wing branding of the “Obamacare” health plan portrayed him in Internet caricatures and on talk shows as both a communist and Hitler while continuing to challenge the authenticity of his birth taking place in the United States. even the place of Tea Party Patriots in the Republican Party is by no means a comfortable fit given the levels of emotional attachment to ideas such as allowing the government to go into default rather than honor its debt obligations. Neither evidence nor reasoned debate often sway such emotional orientations. Indeed, conservative opposition to government efforts to regulate or find substitutes for carbon energy use have been supported by jokes and paid experts raising doubts about climate science itself, amplified by intensive corporate-backed propaganda attacking climate research. Carbon energy companies poured large sums of money into think tanks, conferences, and campaigns to fuel denial of climate change, providing a steady stream of material for talk shows and political candidates to sell retail to individual citizens. The result has been a rapid erosion (most notably on the Right) of American public belief in climate change, in human causes of climate change (from 50 percent to 34 percent between 2006 and 2010), and even in thinking that scientists generally agree about human contributions to global warming (Pew Research Center 2010). Meanwhile, European popular support for environmental protection policies has remained strong, suggesting grounds for interesting comparative research. With the notable exception of historians, scholars have not focused enough on the long-standing American conservative and business propagandizing of corporate virtue, market and consumer freedoms aimed at dampening the effects of more progressive forms of consumer action or government regulation. Nor have communication scholars focused

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enough attention on the palpably different communication styles of personalized politics on the Left and the Right. Where the Right seems uninterested in dialogue and responding to rational or factual challenges, the Left may err in the continued pursuit of reason, deliberation, and civility with opponents. The result is a profound political disconnect with consequences that are worth understanding. If, indeed, the Right has adopted a strategic and personally ingrained aversion to dialogue and deliberation, scholars should not shy away from analyzing this just because they fear charges of bias. The Right has used charges of liberal bias as its symbolic battering ram for several decades. Given the success of conservative networks in using “the power of no” to turn minority publics into veto blocks on many issues, one might consider both the political advantages of closed, nondeliberative discourse styles as well as their antidemocratic outcomes (see Bennett 2011). The impasse between the discourse styles of the Left and the Right has been a defining element of contemporary personalized politics. Origins of Personalized Politics: Globalization and the Free Market Fetish

The roots of personalized politics in the current era can be traced broadly to social changes related to the era of economic globalization that can be roughly bounded from the 1970s to the global financial crisis of the early twenty-first century. There have been many eras of globalization throughout history, each with its own kind of economic logic and impact on societies, so there is no one-kind-fits-all model of globalization, society, and politics. The time of Marco Polo differed from the colonial era, which differed from the postcolonial period of ideologically filtered globalization in the great Cold War struggle for military and economic domination of the Third World. During the recent period, what has been termed a neoliberal trade regime arose to transform global production, finance, marketing, labor, and consumption. As manufacturing moved south, the so-called postindustrial nations of the North underwent tectonic shifts in national labor markets and the social and political relevance of civil society institutions (these shifts were buffered more in some nations than in others). Changes included the transformation of domestic industrial sectors and careers (growth in service and information industries and declines in union manufacturing labor), related personal instability in career and lifestyles, and rising levels of personal stress and sense of responsibility for choices and consequences (Beck 2006; Bennett 1998). In addition, public sectors underwent sweeping changes as privatization and hybrid (public-private partnership) market schemes were applied variously to education, health care, energy, transportation, and even security functions of the state. These changes inside nations further placed individuals in uncertain market relationships in many areas of life: temporary labor, costly choices in public education and health care, greater sense of risk and “ precarity,” and longer periods of unemployment and retraining between the multiple careers that often characterize the late modern biography. As the slogan of the age goes: failure is the new success. In short, the neoliberal economic regime not only changed the world economy, it changed fundamental policies within nations by introducing privatization and market forces into daily personal life. This reduced the GDP contribution of most public sectors and enabled the rise of voracious consumer populations with more money to spend on goods that were cheaper due to the use of cheap labor and natural resources in the South.5 Collateral human and environmental damage became externalities in this scheme, accounting for the

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tempting prices of lifestyle goods, but deferring and displacing their true costs as perverse “ public bads” shared by the entire planet. Since much has been written about all of this (Bennett 1998; Beck 2006; Giddens 1991), I do not go into much more background here, and instead turn to several theoretical generalizations that may be useful for understanding the shift to personalized politics and its relation to the rise of such offshoots as political consumerism, Occupy, and the Tea Party-style protest networks. During this historic period of globalization (roughly bounded from the mid-1970s to the present), the ideals and practices of neoliberal economics became so pervasive that many parties on the Left shifted their stances on formerly staunch domestic programs, often leading the way in sacrificing labor protections to business-friendly trade agreements, while privatizing other public goods and services such as education, health care, and transportation. This led to the demise of social democrats and labor parties in such bastions as Germany, Sweden, and Britain, and created odd hybrid models such as the Obama and Clinton presidencies in the United States. This bipartisan consensus on the virtues of market deregulation (sold under the slogans of individual freedom and job creation) drove social and economic equality values (the old foundation of many collect ive action frames) steadily to the political margins. In the United States, for example, many Democratic social and economic policies were borrowed from the Republican playbook. At the same time, Republicans were outflanked by increasingly conservative factions such as the Tea Party and even more stark demands from businesses for more deregulation and lower taxation for the rich. An individualized market culture even arose in Sweden (albeit with a hybrid embrace of the welfare state), where the demise of the Social Democrats for an unprecedented second time in the elections of 2010 was crowned with the ironic campaign slogan that the Moderates (a Center Right party) were the “true labor party.” Typical of a move toward a politics of personal emotion was the startling rise of an ultra-right anti-immigrant party (the Sweden Democrats) that entered parliament in 2010. The importance of this rightward shift for our story about the personalization of politics cannot be underestimated. The neoliberal mantra of personal freedom and growth through market deregulation became the default ideology of our time, perhaps challenged only by the global financial crisis that spread out from the U.S. housing bubble that burst in 2008. As a result, many voters were deprived of meaningful election choices on what was formerly known as the Left, and younger citizens often developed aversions to politics and government altogether. Other voters came to see the Center Right as the true standard bearer of neoliberal ideals packaged in terms of personal freedom and choice, and voted it into office in such places as Germany, Sweden, Britain, and the United States, along with extreme fringe factions such as the Tea Party and the Sweden Democrats. While other reactions were set in motion by the growing economic crisis in Europe, the notable pattern was one of government instability and public anger rather than an embrace of clear competing ideologies or party identifications on the Left. An important spinoff of the diminishing choices in the formal political arena created what Beck (2006) refers to as asubpolitics, marked by the growing attraction of large-scale personalized politics by other means, from consumer action to mass occupations. As explained below, these collective actions are less like conventional social movements with leaders, organizations, and collective identity frames than they are what Micheletti (2003) describes as individualized collective action where large numbers of people join in loosely coordinated activities centered on more personal emotional identifications and rationales.

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Another broad enabling condition of individualized collective action is that individuals have become fully immersed in consumer cultures and have developed a discerning eye for their political and personal products. Whether the Left moved to the Right due to political expedience, voter demand, or both, the individualized orientation of the citizen-consumer further undermines the appeal of adopting collective identifications with party, ideology, or conventional movements. As voters fell away from party identifications (even a plurality of Swedish voters under 30 expressed no party preference by 2010), they became hard sells and often demanded (or were cynically sold) rather crass offers such as lower taxes and moving the welfare line further down the economic ladder to pay for them. The consumer practices that came to define many areas of public and private life support broad repertoires of political activity. Some of this activity is direct, as boycott and boycott pressures have produced changes in corporate behavior, from commitments to greater responsibility for labor and environmental harms, to rebranding products as worker or environment friendly or fairly traded. Some practices from the consumer culture emerged indirectly through implicit understandings about how to use the messages and technologies of personalized communication to share political concerns and promote them under popular slogans such as “We are the 99%.” In short, just as consumerism has entered politics through branding and marketing to independent voters, it has become an increasing focus for the less conventional politics of the age, as activists have mounted numerous campaigns to discipline global corporations that they see slipping the net of national regulations. Many of these have produced notable changes in corporate behavior and policy (e.g. Nike’s sweatshop labor problem; McDonald’s food chain, packaging, and health problems; the environmental impact of Coca Cola’s bottling practices; Monsanto’s Frankenstein seeds; Starbuck ’s unfair trading practices in the coffee market; Apple examining the conditions in its Chinese factories; and on and on). Related protests at world summits of the G8 and 20 and at the Davos World economic Forum have become routine in the years following the Battle in Seattle that shut down the World Trade Organization meeting in 1999. Other protests have been equally impressive in their scope, as in the cases of the indignados and Occupy protesters, who have triggered international discussions about growing inequality and other predations of the 1 percent against the 99 percent. These activist networks seem to be reinventing repertoires of participation. I use the term “reinventing” advisedly here, as it evades unproductive debates about what is new and what is old. It may seem that there is nothing new under the sun, as the new economic justice protests faintly echo the early labor politics of boycotts dating from a century ago, but unlike labor-led boycotts or buycotts, the latter-day varieties may not even be centrally organized by labor unions, and they are often aimed at conditioning corporations to be more responsible in factories that have spread across the globe in a race away from domestic unionized labor. Similarly, the dense networks of indignados and Occupy protesters that emerged following the global financial crisis in the first decade of the twenty-first century may echo some of the economic justice demands of leftist social movements, but without the militant ideologies, inter-organizational struggles, and conflicts over collective identities that often occupy the center stage of movement participation (the endless meetings of the Occupy or indignado general assemblies are of course another matter). Rather than spill too much ink here worrying about just what criteria satisfy the standards of “new,” I focus on a collection of interesting differences that seem to be at the very least changing the

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way in which some of this personalized participation is organized, even as other characteristics may display some continuities. Scholars are beginning to explore hybrid forms of participation that emerge outside of conventional institutional structures. As noted above, Micheletti (2003) and Stolle and Micheletti (forthcoming) analyze forms of individualized collective action that characterize new patterns of political consumerism that take aim at corporations and other economic targets with behaviors that are often anchored more in personal or local logics and, perhaps, only loosely directed by movements or advocacy organizations. Bimber, Flanagin, and Stohl (2012) have also found that the relationships between individuals and civic organizations are becoming more entrepreneurial and less centrally manageable, resulting in changes in the way communication is involved in organizing collectivities. Bennett and Segerberg (2012) have identified a logic of connective action that explains how individuals avoid self-interest or free rider obstacles to joining contentious politics because they can engage via intrinsically motivating personal expression that can be shared across social networks that, in turn, link people to larger protest networks. Some of those networks may have NGOs or other organizations embedded within them, but they are often in background roles facilitating personalized engagement rather than managing conventional collective action with its issues of divided group identities, ideological splits, and resource struggles. As Castells (1996) pointed out, these collectivities are better understood as fine-grained, multilayered networks rather than as hierarchical coalitions of organizations. In this network view, communication becomes an organizational process that goes well beyond the exchange of messages. Communication and the Organization of Personalized Politics

The “me generation,” which was reflected on Time’s mirrored cover announcing that You were person of the year, seemed to come of age at the dawn of the twenty-first century. Yet the cries of late-twentieth-century critics about mass narcissism and the degradation of public life seemed not fully consistent with the growth of dense and often intersecting social networks through which individuals join with others to share ideas, music, games, code, peer product ratings, and political protests. There is little to gain from sweeping generalizations about the (alternately) cheerful or gloomy prospects for a political future based on (alternately) isolated and polarized, or loosely tied and easily, connected individuals. These debates abound and seldom shed light on more complex underlying realities. I cautiously embrace the views of Benkler (2007) and propose that although the Internet is vast and full of seemingly isolated nodes and long tails, communication technologies can activate the “small world” phenomena through which distant people are in remarkably close reach. In short, communication technologies may put individuals at the center of their own networks, but the reach of those networks often enables the coproduction and distribution of multimedia content with a surprisingly large number of others. Political participation in this picture comes in the form of recombinant digitally networked action (RDNA) that reflects the flexible, large-scale, and surprisingly stable networks that are engaging many arenas and targets of power (see Bennett and Segerberg 2012). As noted above, Castells (1996) argued early on that social and political networks were becoming the loci of power in society, replacing hierarchical social and political

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institutions. Whether and under what conditions such sweeping power shifts may have become decisive remain complex empirical questions. There are still plenty of old-fashioned institutions wielding power, and the last time I checked, the state (along with its newly grown transnational arms) seemed alive and well. However, it also seems clear that loosely organized large-scale networks as diverse as al Qaeda, Occupy, indignados, and media file sharers have become fixtures on the political landscape that increasingly pose challenges to states and related dominant cultural, political, and economic regimes. When conventional political institutions seem on the verge of acting against the interests of diverse and seemingly isolated populations, the social networked communication of digitally networked activism (DNA) can produce surprising results. In early 2012, for example, the U.S. Congress was poised to vote on a pair of invasive antipiracy bills. The legislation was backed by “old media” companies and raised the specter of filtering the Internet and turning online companies into police agencies. Wikipedia and Google led a protest involving hundreds of other sites that directed millions of diverse individuals to contact their representatives. This twenty-four-hour protest forced sponsors to withdraw the legislation and backers to regroup. Typical of many rapid collective action formations in this era, there was no clear collective frame to mobilize individuals. Rather, individuals were offered a rainbow of reasons to act (bad for business, threat to innovation, job killer, invasion of privacy, national security threat, vulnerabilities to the Internet, and so on). The common thread was a loose call to prevent government censorship of entities ranging from the entire Internet, to the safety of personal communication, to the independence of favorite sites (Google and Wired featured black redaction bars across their pages). Such inclusive and easily personalized action frames and ubiquitous mechanisms for technology-enabled participation increasingly dot the political landscape (earl and Kimport 2011). Sometimes these mobilizations are explicitly triggered by appeals to lifestyle consumer values and accompanied by branded communication, and sometimes, they address more general economic foundations of society as expressed in terms of justice and fairness. Reactions to these kinds of participation often entail puzzlement on the part of observers who have trouble fathoming their political logic. Journalists, for example, have persisted in asking the diverse members of many of these protests what their common position or demand is, or who their leaders are. At the same time, the earnest individualism, the easily embraceable personal action frames, and the often remarkable scale of many of these protests made them hard to dismiss. Many of these protests have received more positive press coverage (Bennett and Segerberg 2011) than is typically associated with social movements confronting governments with more challenging or extreme ideological collective action frames (Gitlin 1980). At the same time, operating outside of conventional norms and rituals (whether those attached to government or to social movement repertoires) gives these protests something of a Do-It-Yourself (DIY) ethos. DIY Politics: Understanding emerging Forms of Participation

Thorson (2012) has observed that shifts in the citizenship orientations of younger generations have been noted by many observers (including this author). However, a missing element of various analyses of the citizenship shift is a compelling documentation of the norm set for the next era of variously termed citizenship.

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Modern era dutiful citizens were urged by educators, politicians, civic leaders, and other authorities to follow the news, join community organizations, and, above all, vote. By contrast, the younger generations breaking away from these norms in the current era of personalized politics have few clear guidelines to follow in fashioning a public life. Part of the gap is surely due to the fact that civic authorities continue to be drawn from older generations who practice dutiful civic virtues and who understandably think they work just fine. Despite continuing efforts of institutional authorities to press dutiful practices and ideals on younger generations, they are increasingly unlikely to find receptive audiences. While older citizens may lament the trouble with youth today, young people are forging ahead in many areas of politics and making it up as they go along (often with mixed results). Many of the large-scale examples of individualized collective action that dot the political landscape surely draw on repertoires of action from the past, as in the ways in which Occupy protesters or indignados organized their general assemblies using consensus procedures and a host of direct democracy practices that have been handed down from past protest repertoires. At the same time, the protests displayed openness to individual-level innovation aided by clear avoidance of formal organization, leaders, collective identifications, divisive ideology, or hierarchy. Also characteristic of the open communication architecture of the Occupy protests were the dense and highly personalized media networks used to maintain connections and coordinate activities. Moving beyond off-the-shelf communication technologies such as Facebook and Twitter, Occupy technology developers sought to build idea generators, take-action platforms, and a “global square” virtual commons. There are open questions about where and how new norms guiding participation will emerge from the profusion of self-actualizing, digitally mediated DIY politics. Will norms emerge from reforming existing institutions, from changing school civics curricula, or from grassroots success models? Research is needed to chart these pathways. There may even be an argument for DIY as a more or less permanent adaptive response to complexities of latemodern politics: given the numbers and types of moving political targets that citizens must engage to register their concerns, a DIY ethos may prove the most flexible orientation. Can these personalized forms of collective action achieve the levels of focus and sustainability that have typically been required for social movements to press their demands successfully? This question may be too broad in scope to yield easy or definitive answers. Recent history suggests a mixed record. As noted in the sections below, there have been impressive gains in terms of deposing regimes in Tunisia and Egypt, or raising long-ignored questions of inequality among elites and in the American press. At the same time, there have been repeated setbacks at climate conferences and in various areas of reforming trade regimes. Whether classic social movement organization would have produced better outcomes is debatable, given the disproportionate influence of business and free market values that continued to dominate formal political debate even in the midst of global financial and environmental crises. The next two sections offer ways of thinking about the impact of these personalized forms of connective action. The Upside: Shaping the Political Agenda

As globalization created divisions between poorly compensated producers in the South and increasingly well-appointed consumers in the North, activists successfully raised

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questions about whether one’s fashion statement came at the expense of exploited sweatshop workers or coffee growers squeezed to bare subsistence by global commodity markets. In many ways, consumer activism has put corporations on alert that their brands are in danger (Klein 1999). These consumer mobilizations do not even require mass awareness or radical conversions to succeed. A combination of creative protest strategies and timely information delivered to journalists (e.g. arrests of union organizers, suicides at plants, or working conditions at foreign sites of production) can hold the brands hostage in the press, making corporations at least begin to address social responsibility issues (Bennett and Lagos 2007; Stolle and Micheletti forthcoming). Looking more generally beyond explicit consumer action, there have also been clear impacts from the broad DNA uprisings against corrupt authoritarian regimes of the Middle East, and against the inequities that produced the financial crisis in which taxpayers in the OECD democracies suffered austerity to save the banks. Spurred by the economic downturns of a global finance crisis that had the world on the brink of economic depression, protesters raised questions about inequality and the false promises of deregulated markets. These underlying issues stemming from the indignado and Occupy protests circulated widely in many societies, leading to changes in national conversations and political agendas. These shifts in national discourses were major accomplishments coming from loosely organized protests that are not easy to classify as social movements, since they lacked central coordination, collective identity frames, and focused political demands. Indeed, emerging patterns of political activism such as Occupy were dispersed, decentered, weakly coordinated, and pegged to inclusive personal identity frames such as “We are the 99%,” which became a mantra of the protests and media discourses about them. One palpable correlate of such inclusive participation networks was more favorable press coverage than many radical social movements typically receive. In part, this is because inclusive “everyperson” personal action frames such as “the 99%” are easier to report favorably than exclusive collective action frames defining narrower social identity groups against the established order. In addition, it was clear that many journalists and commentators had long recognized the growth of inequality as the big untold story of the era that few officials wanted to touch politically. Now it could be reported as a real problem, and politicians could discuss it. The elites who began to address formerly marginalized topics such as inequality and fairness did not necessarily endorse or always even acknowledge the protesters. The press coverage offered a bridging device to make reference to topics that were now in wide public circulation. In Washington, London, Berlin, Paris, and Davos, leaders made cautious suggestions about adjusting the distribution of economic gains so that people in societies might better benefit from capitalism. Some of these discussions on the Left were framed in terms of restoring fairness values in societies where economic power had leveraged the political game too far in favor of the rich. Some on the Right expressed more pragmatic concerns that too much inequality could kill the consumer capacity on which economic growth depends. It is hard to imagine this range of discourse emerging without the pressure of dense personalized protest networks that now had their own media systems that intersected with conventional media audiences and enabled content to flow across vast networks. Images and memes, such as the 1 percent versus 99 percent, traveled through most every communication channel in the OECD democracies and beyond.

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In the United States, the inequality discourse quickly took on a life of its own, creating a media bridge for supporting voices such as labor unions and progressive members of Congress who were wary of becoming too closely identified with the protesters. eventually, even Barack Obama signaled a shift in his concessionary political style by raising questions of fairness and equity, sparking a frustrated support base, and making inroads into parts of the middle electorate. In other nations, leaders from the Center Right such as Merkel in Germany and Sarkozy in France spoke in favor of a Robin Hood Tax on financial transactions aimed at limiting the volume of unproductive speculation in world economies and adjusting inequities in relations between rich and poor at home and abroad. While the economic crisis no doubt provided the political opportunity for these ideas to emerge in high places, the pressures from below undoubtedly helped them along.6 It was under the cover of the growing press coverage on inequality and the excesses of the 1 percent that Obama delivered a game-changing speech channeling Teddy Roosevelt in Osawatomie, Kansas on December 6, 2011. The speech, along with a 60 Minutes interview that week, offered a number of trial balloons testing themes for his presidential campaign. Among these ideas was an elliptical reference to the grand 1 percent versus 99 percent meme of the Occupy protests: “I’m here in Kansas to reaffirm my deep conviction that we’re greater together than we are on our own. I believe that this country succeeds when everyone gets a fair shot, when everyone does their fair share, when everyone plays by the same rules. These aren’t Democratic values or Republican values. These aren’t 1% values or 99% values. They’re American values. And we have to reclaim them” (Washington Post 2011). These ideas resonated with his base and beyond, and triggered a large volume of press coverage and commentary. Obama further amplified the fairness and inequality themes, and added the idea of economic sustainability, in the 2012 State of the Union Address titled “A Nation Built to Last.” Many observers took that speech as a preview of his 2012 election stump speech. Using Silobreaker, I conducted semantic network analyses of all media with online presences, which enabled me to track co-occurrences of the terms inequality and occupy, along with other terms chained to them. I followed these semantic networks from before the first Occupy protests in September 2011, through the writing of this article in February 2012. even as late as November 2011, semantic network maps showed that the terms most closely associated with occupy and inequality were Adbusters (the magazine that triggered the occupations with a blog post that went viral); taxes; and, at some remove, a conservative oppositional cluster that included Tea Party, Tea Party Movement, Paul Ryan, and Republican Party. The Democratic Party, unions, the White House, Obama administration, and Obama did not even register their coappearance in any substantial volume beside the high-volume discourses (numbering in the thousands of news and blog items per month) surrounding the central terms occupy and inequality. In the early period of the protests (September 17 to mid-October 2011), the inequality story was closely attached to the protests. By November, inequality had taken on a life of its own, though it was still boosted by various occupy activities that received coverage. Until the story took on a life of its own, a cautious liberal political elite stayed away from protest discourse. The occupy protesters continued to take their economic concerns directly to the politicians, as Obama and the Democratic Party were “occupied” by protests outside of venues where they courted big donors including the Wall Street bankers they had just bailed out. Figure 1 shows that by early 2012 there were many interwoven narratives in the media. There was still a baseline of news stories and blogs containing both the occupy and

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inequality frames, but even larger volumes of stories focused on the two frames separately. This enabled elite discourse strategies of the sort developed by Obama to appropriate the idea of inequality and economic justice without becoming directly associated with their protest messengers. When Obama delivered his Kansas speech on December 6, he immediately moved into the center of the semantic inequality space (along with Teddy Roosevelt, Osawatomie, and White House). For a few days, Obama even displaced Occupy Wall Street 7 from its near exclusive position at the center of the inequality discourse space in the media. By the time of the 2012 State of the Union Address, Obama meshed easily with the i nequality discourse space, taking periodic ownership of an idea that now had a life of its own, while still reflecting its original association with Occupy. Figure 1 shows the way in which U.S. news and commentary disproportionately associated Obama with the term inequality in media coverage of his January 24 presidential address. The longer-term media trends before and after the speech show how inequality and occupy tracked each other closely but occupied separate story lines, while media items containing both terms (together in the same paragraphs or prominently featured by placement and word count in the items) were smaller in volume, but also tracked the two dominant story lines. FIGURe 1: Frequency of Co-Occurring Terms in Online News and Blogs between January

16 and February 16, 2012

https://www.researchgate.net/figure/258125311_fig1_FIGURe-1-Frequency-ofCo-Occurring-Terms-in-Online-News-and-Blogs-between-January-16-and SOURCE:

NOTE: Obama’s State of the Union address occurred on January 24.

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FIGURe 2: The Discourse Space Surrounding the Term Inequality in U.S. Online Media

(News and Blogs) from January 18 to February 18, 2012

SOURCE: https://www.researchgate.net/figure/258125311_fig2_FIGURe-2-The-Discourse-

Space-Surrounding-the-Term-Inequality-in-US-Online-Media-News NOTE: Total items: 3,833. News (including commentary and editorials): 3,441; blogs: 381; miscellaneous: 11. When this pattern of inequality, as a focus of national media attention, matured in early 2012, a number of prominent voices became associated with the inequality discussion. Figure 2 shows a semantic network map of U.S. news and blogs based on the association patterns of terms surrounding inequality (and filtered for relevance of those uses of i nequality to the terms occupy or occupy movement) in online media sites for the period January 18 to February18, 2012. The closer another term is to inequality, the more items featuring that term also use the term inequality. Path distances represent chains of co-occurrence among documents. More distant items are less relevant to the central discourse, although they are directly related to the terms along the paths leading to the central terms.

Inequality discourse was suddenly everywhere. It spiked whenever Occupy protests popped up surrounding elite gatherings (at least whenever police clashes did not dominate the stories). There were even reports of hand-wringing among elites at the 2012 World economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, where forum organizers offered Occupy protesters an ersatz headquarters outside the main conference venue. Some masters of the financial universe fretted about the growth of inequality undermining popular faith in capitalism itself. Others worried that shrinking consumer income might stall the growth engine that powered sales, profits, and jobs. The icon of late-modern capitalism, Bill Gates, delivered a speech at Davos titled “A New Approach to Capitalism in the 21st Century.” And the CEO of the World economic Forum, Klaus Schwab, issued this remarkable comment that the New York Times deemed fit for an occupier: Whether or not capitalism would be reformed to please many of the Occupy protesters, it is remarkable that they were able to change the economic conversation in such a short time, using such highly personalized networking organizations.

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The Downside: Too Little Power, Too Many Problems

For all of the signs that the DNA of personalized politics has had an impact on public discourses, from corporate social responsibility to economic and environmental justice, there are also signs that significant structural policy changes are slow to materialize. Corporations and elites may be signaling greater responsibility for the injustices inflicted on workers, taxpayers, or the environment, but underlying change is harder to produce. The shift to fundamentally different models of markets, resource use, energy production, or growth (much less rethinking capitalism itself) seems at best a distant ideal rather than a real political possibility. Critical observers contend that there is little political will on display when governments keep investing in solutions likely to make things worse in the long run to shore up ever more precarious arrangements in the short run. Even the leading economists on the Left such as Paul Krugman and Joseph Stiglitz are basically unreconstructed Keynesians who simply have different ideas about how to stimulate growth. Most official analyses underlying the narrow spectrum of policy options tend to spin away fundamental causes and contradictions. Whether coming from the economists in the Obama administration or the OECD, key reports have concluded that neither the global trade regime nor the outsourcing of good jobs contributed to the chronic rise of inequality or the acute difficulties in pulling out of the world economic crisis. The politically safe analyses pointed to seemingly derivative factors such as technological change and the deregulation of job markets (Pfanner 2012). And so, growth remains the god term of our time, and only growth is touted inside the circles of power as the solution to humanity’s ills. Yet growth and its attendant externalities of resource depletion and environmental damage are also clearly associated with the host of current political ills. Following from this, one criticism of consumer politics and other contemporary lifestyle participation forms is that the goals are often not aimed at slowing consumption but at making it a bit friendlier to workers and the environment. It is easy to see why many activists shy away from a fuller embrace of sustainable societies as their political goal. The brand of consumer politics dedicated to minimizing consumer lifestyles (sometimes known as voluntary simplicity) is hard to make attractive to citizenconsumers who think their lifestyles require continual outfitting and upgrading. If majorities of publics lack the will to make voluntary radical changes, the lack of will among their leaders is compounded many times over. Without leadership, publics are not likely to feel comfortable undergoing the sacrifices necessary to change current economic models. Given their close proximity to big business and its foreshortened “ profit or die ” time horizon, it is hardly surprising that most political elites, even on the Left, are far removed from being able to fundamentally change course. As a result, they continue to go through the motions at summits with little will to overcome collective inertia. For example, the annual UN climate summits following the Kyoto Treaty have resulted in one disappointment after another for activists. Similarly, the frustrated hopes for harnessing banks and financial systems are painful reminders about how much power those institutions wield over those who would regulate them. The ironic situation is that the whole system of relations involving environment, energy, and economy seems tied to clearly understood human practices, but their evolved complexities may be beyond human capacity to change. It i s not clear whether these problems

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should be cast as failures of the political challengers (whether conventional social movements or DNA connectives) or as measures of the magnitude of the problems themselves, and of the power imbalances that sway decision-makers. Conclusion

Social fragmentation and the decline of group loyalties have given rise to an era of personalized politics in which individual expression displaces collective action frames in the embrace of political causes. The rise of personalized forms of political participation is perhaps the defining change in the political culture of our era. This trend can be spotted in the rise of large-scale, rapidly forming political participation aimed at a variety of targets, ranging from parties and candidates, to corporations, brands, and transnational organizations. The group-based “identity politics” of the “new social movements” that arose after the 1960s still exist, but the recent period has seen more diverse mobilizations in which individuals are mobilized around personal lifestyle values to engage with multiple causes such as economic justice (fair trade, inequality, and development policies), environmental protection, and worker and human rights. This large-scale individualized collective action is often coordinated through digital media technologies, sometimes with political organizations playing an enabling role, and sometimes with crowds using layers of social media to coordinate action. Some of these politics have specific consumerist styles, as in the many expressions of concern about the social or environmental realities beyond the brand image of popular products. Beyond consumer and lifestyle actions, large individualized collectivities have also emerged around broader political agendas with the help of various social and digital media. The so-called Arab Spring and various uprisings in Europe and the United States following the world financial crisis suggest more general political capacities of individualized collective action. Protest formations, such as the indignados in Spain and Occupy protests in the United States and elsewhere, have focused attention on failings of the pervasive neoliberal economic regime that became politically dominant during the recent era of globalization. Not only have these protests triggered debate in the mass media, but public discussion space has opened to a range of critics who argue that the neoliberal regime is headed for an inevitable and painful meltdown that may force the adoption of more sustainable practices (Gilding 2011; Martenson 2011). In the meantime, it seems a positive sign that some politicians, including the long-conciliatory Barack Obama, began to talk about sustainability, while captains of industry such as Bill Gates called for new variants on capitalism. These shifts in discourse and perceptions are clearly related to opportunities seized by contemporary activists. If the crisis and accompanying protests pointed out the flaws of the dominant political and economic regimes, the political remedies were not as immediately obvious. Conventional solutions such as pressuring partiesor forming new ones may not make much difference when innovative choices seem limited by crisis conditions. Thus, it may be unreasonable to fault connective action formations and their loosely tied communication-based organization for lack of more fundamental change. Many of the issues in the globalized polity have long been the focus of more conventionally organized challengers, from unions to social movements, with no better results. What seems clear is that the DNA of personalized politics has succeeded more than many other forms of protests in occupying the contemporary political discourse space.

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Notes

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

The first winner was Charles A. Lindbergh in 1927, and others have included Mohandas Ghandi, Franklin Roosevelt (twice), Hitler, Stalin, De Gaulle, Kennedy, Martin Luther King Jr., Bill Gates, and Mark Zuckerberg, along with astronauts, scientists, popes, and business leaders. While this ethos of diversity and inclusiveness seems to have fueled greater volumes of personalized politics on the Left, there are interesting examples on the Right as well, such as the Tea Party, which gathered a broad spectrum of discontent under its antigovernment action frame. The ways in which the boundaries of political sentiment may be policed differently by these loose-tied Left- or Right-leaning networks is an interesting empirical question. Individuation may also be associated with many authoritarian states that have undermined civil society and thus help to account for the rise of digitally networked uprisings in Egypt and elsewhere. In the case of the Robin Hood Tax, the campaign featured Google maps dotted with tiny Robin Hood caps across the British landscape. Clicking on a cap revealed personal testimonials about why an individual supported the tax. The Occupy protests quickly adopted the slogan of “We are the 99%, ” which began on a Tumbler micro-blog where individuals took desktop photos of themselves holding up a short account of their personal challenges in the 99 percent. Before the economic crash of 2008, U.S. consumer spending on goods and services accounted for more than 60 percent of jobs and a similar amount of

GDP. Some estimates of the contribution of the consumer economy to GDP were even higher. The global economic crash and its surrounding energy and environmental issues may well mark the end of an economic era. 6. It should be noted that this economic justice agenda had long been advocated by a broad spectrum of collective action, including conventional social movements and hybrid NGO advocacy networks that engaged large publics. Yet the more personalized “connective action ” networks somehow seized the opportunity and raised the level of discussion. A more complete overview of how personalized participation fits into larger schemes of collective action is presented in Bennett and Segerberg (2011). 7.

Based on Silobreaker searches on November 20, 2011, and December 8, 2011, for the co-occurrence of inequality and occupy and third term cooccurrences in all U.S. news and blogs online. 8. Silobreaker enables terms, such as inequality, that may have many other uses in other contexts to be filtered by relevance in association with other terms (in this case, occupy). The relevance algorithms represent prominence of placement of terms in documents, frequency of co-occurrence, and paths of coassociation with other terms. 9. The appearance of Charles Murray and James Q. Wilson here reflects the buzz surrounding Murray ’s controversial and just-published book arguing that inequality is not a structural economic problem involving power and advantage in the economic game but more the result of the degradation of family values among low-income Americans.

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References

Beck, Ulrich. 2006. Power in the global age: A new global political economy . Cambridge: Polity. Benkler, Jochai. 2007. The wealth of networks . New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Bennett, W. Lance. 1998. The uncivic culture: Communication, identity, and the rise of lifestyle politics. PS: Political Science & Politics 31 (4): 740 – 61. Bennett, W. Lance. 2011. What’s wrong with incivility? Civility as the new censorship in American politics. Paper delivered at the John Breaux Symposium: “In the N ame of Democracy: Leadership, Civility and Governing in a Polarized Media environment,” 28– 29 March, Manship School of Mass Communication, Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge, LA. Bennett, W. Lance, and Taso Lagos. 2007. Logo logic: The ups and downs of branded political communication. The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 611 (1): 193 – 206. Bennett, W. Lance, and Alexandra Segerberg. 2011. Digital media and the personalization of collective action: Social technology and the organization of protests against the global economic crisis. Information, Communication & Society 14 (6): 770 – 99. Bennett, W. Lance, and Alexandra Segerberg. 2012. The logic of connective action. Information, Communication & Society 15 (5): 739 – 68. Bimber, Bruce, Andrew Flanagin, and Cynthia Stohl. 2012. Collective action in organizations: Interaction and engagement in an era of technological change . New York, NY: Cambridge University Press. Castells, Manuel. 1996. The information age: The rise of the network society. Vol. 1. Malden, MA: Blackwell. Earl, Jennifer, and Katrina Kimport. 2011. Digitally enabled social change: Activism in the Internet age. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Ewing, Jack. 25 January 2012. Across the world, leaders brace for discontent and upheaval. New York Times. Available from http://www.nytimes.com (accessed 15 February 2012). Giddens, Anthony. 1991. Modernity and self-identity: Self and society in the late modern age . Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Gilding, Paul. 2011. The great disruption . New York, NY: Bloomsbury. Gitlin, Todd. 1980. The whole world is watching: Mass media in the making and unmaking of the new Left . Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Klein, Naomi. 1999. No logo: Taking aim at the brand bullies . New York, NY: Picador. Martenson, Chris. 2011. The crash course: The unsustainable future of our economy, energy, and environment. New York, NY: Wiley. Micheletti, Michele. 2003. Political virtue and shopping: Individuals, consumerism and collective action . New York, NY: Palgrave-Macmillan. Pew Research Center. 27 October 2010. Wide partisan divide over global warming: Few Tea Party Republicans see evidence. Available from http://pewresearch.org (accessed 8 February 2012). Pfanner, eric. 25 January 2012. At Davos, a big issue is the have-lots vs. the have-nots. New York Times, B6. Putnam, Robert D. 2000. Bowling alone: The collapse and revival of American community. New York, NY: Simon & Schuster. Scocpol, Theda, and Vanessa Williamson. 2012. The Tea Party and the remaking of Republican conservatism . New York, NY: Oxford University Press. Stolle, Dietlind, and Michele Micheletti. Forthcoming. Political consumerism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Thorson, Kjerstin. 2012. Do-It-Yourself citizenship: Youth, communication and politics in the digital age. Unpublished manuscript. Washington Post . 6 December 2011. Full text of President Obama’s economi c speech in Osawatomie, Kans. Available from http://www.washingtonpost.com (accessed 17 February 2012).

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L

Making Claims in Contentious Politics CHARLES TILLY & SIDNEY TARROW

Making Claims

When a young English divinity student named Thomas Clarkson won a Latin Prize with an essay on slavery at Cambridge in 1785, neither he nor his listeners imagined the effect it would have on slavery in the British Empire. But as he sat down at the side of the road on his way to Londonto take up a career as a Protestant minister, Clarkson reflected that if the horrors he had uncovered about slavery were true, “it was time some person should see these calamities to their end” (Hochschild 2005: 89). Clarkson turned out to be that person. Together with a small band of antislavery advocates, he became the world’s first modern social movement organizer. He wrote thousands of letters, organized petition drives, and helped to launch the world’s first successful transnational movement. That movement eventually ended the vicious violence of the slave trade and led to the abolition of slavery around the Atlantic. It allowed English reformers to claim moral superiority over the newly independent but slaveholding United States. The antislavery movement went through many phases, suffered reversals during the repressive years of the Napoleonic wars, and required a savage civil war to end slaveryin the United States. But it joined religious evangelicalism, the politicalemancipation of Catholics, and parliamentary reform to create thepattern of modern social movements in eighteenth- and nineteenth-centuryEngland.The movement that Clarkson and his friends started looks decorousand even conservative to us today. But they made their claims much associal movements still do. They stimulated the formation of committees, took out newspaper ads, encouraged the deposing of petitions, gathered evidence, and laid it before the House of Commons. Although the word boycott itself would not enter the language for another century, they organized what was in effect a boycott of slave-produced sugar. Britain’s antislavery activists also shocked the nation’s conscience by displaying instruments of torture the slave owners used. In the process, they forged alliances with parliamentary and literary opponents of slavery such as William Wilberforce and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. They even sent Clarks onto help antislavery forces in France during the brief period when French republicans were interpreting the Rights of Man to include people of color (Drescher 1991). It took almost twenty years for Britain’s antislavery campaign to bring the Atlantic slave trade to an end and another three decades for slavery toend in Britain’s colonies. But less than a year after Clarkson and the committeebegan their campaign, “Britons were challenging slavery in Londondebating societies, in provincial pubs, and across dinner tables throughoutthe country” (Hochschild 2005: 213). In the newly independent UnitedStates, opponents of the slave trade would eventually persuade Congressto make the trade illegal, and it took a civil war to end slavery in the South. Clarkson, his allies, his enemies, and public authorities on both sides of the Atlantic were building a social movement.We could tell many different stories about antislavery. We could treat it as a moral tale showing what determination can accomplish in the face of difficult odds. We could think about it as an application of enlightened values, as an expression of religious zeal, or as English capitalists’ attempt to promote free labor and free trade. We could see it as an early example of a transnational social movement, a phenomenon

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that has become important in this age of globalization. Different observers of European and American antislavery campaigns have told all these tales, and more. Here we treat it as a dramatic example of contentious politics, of people struggling with each other over which political program will prevail. For another dramatic episode of contentious politics, fastforward 228 years to the Ukrainian capital of Kiev. THE UKRAINIAN FALL

In November 2013, a protest movement erupted against President Viktor Yanukovych’s decision to cancel a long-planned agreement between his economicallystrapped country and the European Union (EU). Yanukovych had been persuaded — his enemies would say “ bought”— by Russian President Vladimir Putin to draw back from Europe by the inducement of a $15 billion loan if his country joined a Russian-led trade group. European leaders responded that if Yanukovych accepted the Russian offer, all bets were off for a Ukrainian link to the EU. Western Ukrainians — including most of the residents of the country’s capital, Kiev — were outraged by Yanukovych’s move. Protesters in Kiev soon occupied the “Maidan”— the city’s central square — evoking the country’s “Orange Revolution” of 2002 (Beissinger 2011). They called first for Ukraine’s association with Europe, then for an end to corruption, and increasingly for the President to resign.Those protests were largely peaceful, and they soon “turned violent”— that is to say, the regime’s riot police turned on them, killing eighty-four protesters and arresting hundreds more. Outrage at the regime’s overreaction spread around the country and across Europe, and the Maidan occupation fell into a pattern of barricade building, police charges, occupation of government buildings, speeches by opposition politicians, and government warnings of fascist infiltration. What had begun as a largely peaceful protest movement rapidly militarized, with groups of young “hundreds” donning helmets and gas masks and carrying improvised shields against the increasingly ineffective, but no less brutal, police. As the confrontations escalated, international actors mobilized on oneside or another. In the West, French, German and Polish envoys tried to forge a compromise that would save Yanukovych’s face but give the protesters the link to the EU they wanted; in the East, Russian President Putin offered Ukraine a down payment on his promised loan and urged him to continue to stand fast against the protesters. The Russians then grudgingly agreed to the Europeans’ compromise proposal, but suddenly, as quickly as he had cancelled the original EU association deal, Yanukovych disappeared, only to reappear in the Russian Federation, claiming to have been overthrown by a coup d’état. (It later turned out that he had been abandoned by both army units and the special police forces on whichhe depended for his survival). While the Maidan occupiers cheered jubilantly, opposition politiciansset up an unelected provisional government, and accused Yanukovych ofmass killing, threatening to take him to the International Criminal Court. In Washington, President Obama and Secretary of State Kerry cheered the advent of the provisional government, while in Brussels, EU Foreign commissioner Catherine Ashton spoke cautiously of a major injection of cash to bolster the country’s economy. But talk of internal democracy and external bailout was soon eclipsed by what happened in the Crimean peninsula of Ukraine between February 28 and March 2. (See map, figure 1.1.)

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Figure 1.1 Ukraine, Crimea, and the Kerch Connection to Russia (photo by Lonely Plantet / Getty Images)

On those days, “little green men” in uniform began to appear at keypoints in the Crimea, an area that had been part of Russia since the timeof Catherine the Great but was handed to Ukraine by Communist Party chief Nikita Khrushchev in 1954, when the region was still part of the of Soviet Union. The peninsula was heavily peopled by Russian speakers and was the home of the Russian Black Sea fleet. Slowly, at first, and then increasinglyinsistently, Russian armed forces surrounded Ukrainian military facilities in the region, took over its Parliament, and the Kerch ferry crossing between the Crimea and Russia. Their identity became clear when Sergey Aksyonov, the newly-appointed Prime Minister of the Crimea, called for Russian intervention to protect the region’s citizens against armed attacks. Russian armored vehicles soon rolled across the border as the Russian Duma declared it the country’s duty to protect Russian speaking civilians from attacks it claimed were coming from “fascists, nationalists, and anti-Semites” directed from Kiev. A full-scale military intervention, allied with internal pro-Russian demonstrations, was underway. And, in a plebiscite on March 16, a large majority of Crimean voters supported Crimea’s attachment to Russia. In the wake of these events, western observers saw the Russian takeover as the start of the worst foreign policy crisis since the Cold War. In Brussels, the EU and NATO fulminated that the attack violated Russia’s commitment to respect Ukraine’s territorial integrity. In Washington, President Obama launched a devastating series of economic sanctions, while in Moscow the Kremlin propaganda machine revved up patriotic fervor to support the annexation. But more was still to come: For no sooner was the Crimean peninsula detached from Ukraine than war broke out between pro-Russian militants in the East of the

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counry, aided by Russian troops, against the near-helpless agents of the Ukrainian state. Soldiers without insignias took over government buildings in twelve southeastern cities of Ukraine. They were helped by the inability of the new Ukrainian government to mount an effective response to their pressures and by the presence of 40,000 Russian troops, backed by a propaganda campaign beamed in from Moscow. A wave of domestic contention against a weak and corrupt state had brought the collapse of a government, an internal countermovement, and a partial military takeover by a neighboring state joined to a nationalist rebellion. CONTENTIOUS POLITICS

What do the campaign against the slave trade in eighteenth-century England and the partial breakup and civil war in Ukraine in 2014 have in common? Although we can identify many differences, these were both episodes of what we call contentious politics. In both, actors made claims on authorities, used public performances to do so, drew on inherited forms of collective action (our term for this is repertoires) and invented new ones, forged alliances with influential members of their respective polities, took advantage of existing political regime opportunities and made new ones,and used a combination of institutional and extrainstitutional routines to advance their claims. Contentious politics involves interactions in which actors make claims bearing on other actors’ interests, leading to coordinated efforts on behalf of shared interests or programs, in which governments are involved as targets, initiators of claims, or third parties. Contentious politics thus brings together three familiar features of social life: contention, collective action, and politics. Contention involves making claims that bear on someone else’s interests. In everyday life, contention ranges from small matters such as which television show we should watch tonight to bigger questions such as whether your sister Sue should marry the man she is dating. But it also takes place in football matches, rival advertising campaigns, and struggles between cantankerous patients and irritable doctors. In the simplest version of contention, one party makes claims on another. The parties are often persons, but one or the other can also be agroup or even an institution; you can make a claim on your school or file a claim on the government for unemployment benefits. In the elementary version, we can think of one party as a subject (the maker of a claim) and the other as an object (the receiver of a claim). Claims always involve at least one subject’s reaching visibly toward at least one object. You (subject) may ask a friend (object) to pay back the money he borrowed from you yesterday. But claims range from timid requests to strident demands to direct attacks, just so long as they would, if realized, somehow affect the object’s well-being, the object’s interests. Often three or more parties are involved, as when you demand that your friend pay you back the money he was about to hand over to another creditor. Contention always brings together subjects, objects, and claims. Collective action means coordinating efforts on behalf of shared interests or programs. Football teams engage in collective action, but so do churches, voluntary associations, and neighbors who clear weeds from a vacant lot. When you go to school or to work for a big company, you enter an organization that is carrying on collective action. But most of the collective action involved occurs with no significant contention and no

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government involvement. The bulk of collective action takes place outside contentious politics. Most contention also occurs outside politics. We enter the realm of politics when we interact with agents of governments, either dealing with them directly or engaging in activities bearing on governmental rights, regulations, and interests. Politics likewise ranges from fairly routine matters such as applying for a driver ’s license to momentous questions such as whether the country should go to war. But most of politics involves little or no contention. Most of the time, people register for benefits, answer census takers, cash government checks, or show their passports to immigration officers without making significant claims on other people.The presence or absence of governments in contention makes a difference for three big reasons. First, people who control governments gain advantages over people who don’t. Even where the government is weak, controlling it gives you the means of collecting taxes, distributing resources, and regulating other people’s behavior. As a result, political contention puts at risk, however slightly, the advantages of those who currently enjoy governmental power. Second, governments always make rules governing contention: who can make what collective claims, by what means, with what outcomes. Even weak governments have some influence over the prevailing forms of claim making, and they resist anyone else’s building up competitive centers of power within their territories. Third, governments control substantial coercive means: armies, police forces, courts, prisons, and the like. The availability of governmental coercion gives an edge to political contention that rarely exists outside the political arena. In political contention, largescale violence always remains a possibility, however faint. Contention connected to governments does resemble contention in families, sports, churches, and businesses in some regards. We will sometimes call attention to those parallels. But we single out governmentconnected contention because it has these distinctive properties. Let us immediately rule out a few possible misunderstandings. Restriction of contentious politics to claim making that somehow involves governments by no means implies that governments must figure as the makers or receivers of contentious claims. On the contrary, as the book proceeds, we will encounter a wide range of contention in which nongovernmental actors are pitted against each other and make claims on religious, economic, ethnic, or other nongovernmental holders of power. Remember the story with which this chapter began? In both England and America, antislavery activists directed their claims first against slaveholders and only then against governments, which were drawn into the action because they either supported or opposed slavery and only they could resolve the legal and physical conflicts that slavery fostered. As you move through the book, you will read sustained discussions of many such conflicts: American campus activism against South Africa’s apartheid in the 1980s; changes in the repertoire of contention in theUnited States since the 1960s and in Argentina before and after the dictatorship of the 1970s and 1980s; the rebellion of the Zapatista movement in Chiapas, Mexico, in the 1990s; nationalist and democratization protests in the breakup of the former Soviet Union; transformations of American women’s lives by participation in feminist organizations; lethal conflicts in Northern Ireland and Sudan, and the revolution in Nicaragua; the transnational “Global Justice” movement and transnational Islamism; the struggle for marriage equality in the United States and the tumultuous Arab Spring that are ongoing as this book goes to press. All of these conflicts eventually drew governments — local or national — into the action, as did our initial story of the struggle against slavery in England. But they began by pitting nongovernmental actors against each other. Let us be clear. We do not deny that processes

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much like those occurring in contentious politics also occur in nonpolitical settings. That is actually the point of distinguishing collective action and contention from politics. We also do not deny that some forms of contention — such as religious movements — aim primarily at internal change within individuals. But even these frequently come into contact with governments — for example, when evangelical Christians attempt to incorporate religious values into the public school curriculum. Finally, sometimes a corporationthat runs a company town, an international military force such as NATO, or an international institution such as the United Nations and the World Trade Organization behaves much like a government. Those cases come close enough to our definition of contentious politics for this book to include them. Still, we focus our attention on the convergence of collective action, contention, and politics because the area of their overlap has distinctive — and potentially dangerous — properties. Figure 1.2 shows how contention, collective action, and politics converge in contentious politics. Many scholars would draw different boundaries — for example, by treating collective action as the fundamental process. In that view, such episodes as antislavery in Britain and the conflicts in Ukraine in 2013 – 2014 qualify simply as special instances of collective action. Others define politics as consisting of struggles for power however and wherever they occur. They thus take in all of contentious politics, add to it struggles outside the range of government, but treat routine political transactions as something else. In this line of thought, many analysts distinguish between real politics — our contentious politics plus similar struggles outside political arenas — and public administration.

Contention

Politics

Collective Action

Contentious Politics

Figure 1.2: Components of Contentious Politics

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Many students of the subject use the term social movement to covermost or all of the overlap between contention and collective action,whether it happens in politics or some other arena. The same analystsoften extend the term social movement to what we will call social movementbases: the social background, organizational resources, and cultural frameworks of contention and collective action. Our book provides plentyof evidence about social movements. But we recommend resisting expansion of the term to embrace most or all of contentious politics, its social bases, and its cultural contexts. Such an expansion has several drawbacks. First, it hampers comparison across different types of contention by collecting them under the same label. Second, if different forms of contention all count as social movements, that expansion makes it difficult to examine transitions among them. Third, it obscures a fundamental fact: that social movements are a historical — and not a universal — category. As our story of British antislavery shows, the social movement as we know it took shape about two centuries ago, and it only became widely available as a means of popular claimmaking during the twentieth century (Tilly and Wood 2009). It emerged through episodes such as antislavery, found its feet in the early nineteenth century through labor and other struggles, and eventually became a staple of popular politics across the world’s less authoritarian regimes during the twentieth century. American civil rights activism formed a social movement; so did the movement for same-sex marriage, which ends this book. What qualifies as a social movement ? We define a movement as a sustained campaign of claim making, using repeated performances that advertise the claim, based on organizations, networks, traditions, and solidarities that sustain these activities. But most forms of contentious politics are not social movements. Social movements combine (1) sustained campaigns of claim making; (2) an array of public performances including marches, rallies, demonstrations, creation of specialized associations, public meetings, public statements, petitions, letter writing, and lobbying; (3) repeated public displays of worthiness, unity, numbers, and commitment by such means as wearing colors, marching in disciplined ranks, sporting badges that advertise the cause, displaying signs, chanting slogans, and picketing public buildings. They draw on (4) the organizations, networks, traditions, and solidarities that sustain these activities — social movement bases. As familiar as it has become to citizens of Western countries, this combination of campaigns, performances, and displays only took shape a few hundred years ago, and it is still rare or nonexistent through much of the contemporary world. The recent explosion of digital activism may even be making social movements obsolete. As seen in the Poland’s Solidarity movement and the American women’s movement, the combinations of public displays of worthiness, unity, numbers, and commitment produced significantly less violent confrontation than the three forms of lethal conflict: ethnic religious strife, civil wars, and revolutions. Social movement politics and lethal conflicts often co-occur and intersect in the same places. CONTENTIOUS INTERACTION

Our two landmark episodes — British antislavery and the Ukrainian-Russian conflicts from 2013 on reveal intersections among contention, politics, and collective action. Though buffeted by the varying winds of reaction and reform, antislavery was a true social movement. Over a period of more than thirty years, its participants sustained a powerful campaign of contentious politics both within and against Britain’s political institutions. The Ukrainian conflict ranged from a short-term movement coalition comprising masses in the streets and opposition leaders, to an armed struggle between militants and their state opponents with the backing of a foreign power. It led to the full-scale conflict between Russia

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and Ukraine, with the backing of its western supporters, that continues as this book goes to press. When contention, politics, and collective action get together, something distinctive happens: power, shared interests, and government policy come into play. Claims become collective, which means they depend on some sort of coordination among the people making the claims. They also become political, at least by assuming the presence of governments as monitors, guarantors, or regulators of collective claim making and often more directly as subjects or objects of claims. In those circumstances, we will speak about groups that sometimes make claims as political actors. We will call the collective names that they give themselves or that other people give them — those workers, we citizens, us women, and so on — their political identities. People often make collective claims on governments, and governments make claims on whole categories of people. Governments also involve themselves in how people outside government make claims on each other. Sometimes they facilitate contention by opening opportunities for challengers but sometimes they suppress it: Lawmakers make laws banning some kinds of assemblies, police arrest unruly demonstrators, judges try people for seditious claims, and officials intervene when their clients or constituents are fighting collectively. The intersection of contention, politics, and collective action contains events ranging from local ethnic competitionto great revolutions.This book looks hard and systematically at that intersection. It lays out a simple set of tools for describing and explaining contentious politics in all its varieties. The tools consist of concepts and of causal connections among the phenomena singled out by those concepts. We make a rough distinction between description and explanation. Description consists of specifying what special properties and variations in contention deserve serious attention. Explanation entails showing what produces those special properties and variations. The distinction between description and explanation remains rough; sometimes one special property or brand of variation helps to explain another. When we compare Ukraine’s quasi-revolution with other mobilizations against authoritarian regimes, we actually move toward explanation by identifying relevant differences among the regimes and their oppositions. As Doug McAdam (1999) writes, “a viable model of the individual must take full account of the fundamentally social/relational nature of human existence”(xiii). Some students of contention give primary attention to itssocial bases — for example, to social networks, organizations, cultural predispositions,and the political and ideological traditions that nourish contention.While we give ample space to these bases of contention, we are primarily concerned with the mechanisms and processes that involve challengers with their targets, public authorities, and third parties like the media and the public in sequences of interaction. For example, whenwe turn to social movements, we focus on the mechanisms and processes that transform the bases of contention into social movement campaigns. Putting these elements together will help us to resolve a fundamental paradox of contentious politics: its recurring combination of variations and regularities. Contentious politics features enormous variation in its issues, actors, interactions, claims, sequences, and outcomes from time to time and place to place. But it also displays great regularities in the ways that contention unfolds. We will see how similar mechanisms and processes produce distinctive political trajectories and outcomes depending on their combinations and on the social bases and political contexts in which they operate. We can begin to capture some of the recurrent, historically embedded character of contentious politics by means of two related theatrical metaphors and a military one: performances, repertoires, and campaigns. • Contentious performances are relatively familiar and standardized waysin which one set of political actors makes collective claims on someother set of political actors. Among other

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performances, participantsin Ukraine’s protest movement against President Yanukovych usedmass demonstrations as visible, effective performances. • Contentious repertoires are arrays of performances that are currently known and available within some set of political actors. England’s antislavery activists helped to invent the demonstration as a political performance, but they also drew on petitions, lobbying, press releases, public meetings, and a number of other performances. Ukraine’s Maidan protesters assembled in a public place, but they also built a tent city, defended it with shields against police repression, and attacked government buildings until the President and his entourage fled thecountry. • Contentious campaigns are combinations of performances that “focus on a particular policy and usually disassemble when that policy is implemented or overturned” (Almeida 2014: 6). Observers sometimes refer to such campaigns as “movements,” but in many cases they involve arrays of actors, including movements, interest groups, political parties, the media, interested onlookers, and state agents. CLAIM MAKING AS PERFORMANCE

Once we look closely at collective making of claims, we see that particular instances improvise on shared scripts. Presentation of a petition, taking a hostage, or mounting a demonstration constitutes a performance that links at least two actors, a claimant, and an object of claims. Innovation occurs incessantly on the small scale, but effective claims depend on a recognizable relation to their setting, on relations between the parties, and on previous uses of the claim-making form. Performances evolve over time. Consider how Clarkson and his colleagues used petitions to inundate Parliament with antislavery demands. One of the most traditional forms of making claims, petitions originally came from individual petitioners seeking benefits for themselves. They bowed before their lords to request personal exemption from military service or lowering of their excise tax. The British antislavery group turned the petition into an instrument for mass claim making, accumulating thousands of signatures on petitions to demand redress for others. This was the origin of the on-line petition of today. Now think of the massing of protesters in the streets of Kiev in 2013. In the 1830s, British Chartists adopted the mass demonstration, then anew form, as they demanded political rights for working people (Thompson 1984). In the mid-nineteenth century, during what we remember as the 1848 revolution, such demonstrations traversed Europe on the part of workers, nationalists, middle-class reformers, and revolutionary socialists. That led to a known change in the repertoire of contention: By 2013, Ukrainians knew exactly how to organize demonstrations that would challenge the rules, reinforce their own solidarity, and gain international support. All forms of contention rest on performances, but performances range from direct assaults on others to theatricals staged for nearby or distant audiences (Taylor and Van Dyke 2004: 271; Tarrow 2011). In the eighteenth century, people mainly engaged in performances that were specific to their particular claims, such as seizing grain, invading landlords’ fields, barricading their streets, and pulling down wrongdoers’ houses (Tilly 2005). Think of the Boston colonists who attacked the home of an official charged with collecting the hated stamp tax in 1765, or of those who dumped tea into Boston Harbor in 1775. Both groups were engaging in particular performances. But by the twentieth century, many contentious performances had spread around the world and become what we call modular : performances that could be adopted and adapted across a wide range of conflicts and sites of contention by a broad range of actors. Think again of the protest demonstration. It

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grew out of — and at first resembled — the religious procession to a place of worship. It turned contentious as demonstrators moved from a place of assembly to a site from which they could confront the targets of their claims. Later, it became the central form of action, mounted routinely to demonstrate a claim before the public. With the diffusion of mass media, that public expanded from neighbors who witnessed a demonstration passing beneath their windows to a wider range of citizens who could watch it on their television sets. By the twentieth century, it had become the major conventional form of contention used by claimmakers across the world. By the early twenty-first century, as we will see, marchers protesting for free speech in Paris knew how to organize a demonstration and what they did not know, they quickly learned from social media. More recently, reaching people through the Internet has become a favored means of mobilization. For example, “hactivism,” the practice of infiltrating the computer of a transnational firm or a government to disrupt its routines, is becoming more and more common (Samuels 2004). So far the Internet’s major role in contentious politics has been either (1) to assemble people in demonstrations at one site or (2)to coordinate demonstrations in many sites across a broad range of territory; and it may also be emerging (3) as a form of “connective action”itself (Bennett and Segerberg 2013). A good example of the Internet’s firstsort of use was the 1999 Seattle demonstration against the World Trade Organization. A major example of the second was the coordination of demonstrations across the globe against the American invasion of Iraq in 2003. An example of the third was the “Occupy” movement of 2011 – 2012, which existed “online” as much as “offline.” None of these has done away with the classical set of contentious politics performances but they have progressively increased the ability of organizers to expand their reach. The petition, the demonstration, and the Internet-based call to action have become modular performances, generic forms that can be adapted to a variety of local and social circumstances. The advantage of such modular performances is their dual generality and specificity. Seen generically, they have features that adapt to a wide variety of circumstances and have meaning to a wide variety of potential participants and audiences. American students demonstrate on collegecampuses, French farmers demonstrate outside the prefecture, Israeli settlers demonstrate beside the Wailing Wall, and Hong Kong democracy protesters demonstrate in Hong Kong’s business district — all are usingsome variant of the same modular performance. But seen in particular circumstances, demonstrations offer a variety offacets that can be attached to local knowledge. Skillful organizers adapt the generic form to local circumstances, embedding a modular form such as the demonstration in the languages, symbols, and practices that make them compelling in those circumstances. Of course, not all contentious performances are as orderly, theatrical, and peaceful as the demonstration. Take the confrontational forms of contentious politics that exploded in Western Europe and the United States during the 1960s. The Cold War between the Soviet Union and theUnited States had dominated the early 1950s, restricting protest in generaland confrontational protest in particular. But the African American awakenings of the mid-1950s and the 1960s, the student and antiwar movements of the late 1960s, the women’s and gay rights movements of the 1970s, the peace and environmental movements of the 1980s, the collapse of communism at the end of that decade, and the Arab Spring revolutions of 2010 – 2012 expanded all kinds of protest and particularly of confrontational and violent forms of contention. Now think of how young protesters after the death of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri burned and overturned cars when a grand jury absolved a police officer of using unnecessary force. They were using a performance that had become a standard part of the American urban repertoire that emerged in the riots of the mid-1960s against police violence. These two generations of protesters were not connected to each other but the performance of burning cars during social unrest became a standard part of the American repertoire. Finally, think of the occupation of

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public space organized by the “Occupy” movement in the United States and the “Indignation” protesters in Europe in response to the Great Recession of 2008 – 2013; they picked up on a performance that goes back to the nineteenth century and reached its peak in the sit-in protests of the civil rights and anti-Vietnam war era of the 1960s. The same performance with more profound implications was used by the occupants of Tahrir Square in Cairo in 2011, when they launched a revolutionary message that spread across the Middle East and North Africa. Dieter Rucht has provided us with a running portrait tracing how different forms of contentious politics converged in one archetypical European country, Germany, over this period. Rucht and his colleagues examined contention from major newspapers for the years 1950 – 1988 for West Germany and for both halves of Germany over the following decade (2005). His findings show a dramatic increase in the numbers of protests in the 1960s and smaller, but still substantial, increases over the next three decades. Protests rose from a low of just over 1,100 in the 1950s toover 4,000 in the 1990s. Not only that: The mix of conventional, confrontational, and violent activities changed dramatically between the beginning of the West German Republic and the end of the century. Although no linear trend appeared in the proportion of “demonstrative” protests (about 50 percent at the beginning and at the end of the period), a net decline occurred in the percentage of routine expressions of claims, what Rucht calls procedural protests and appeals. In contrast, Rucht’s evidence shows increases in the proportion of “confrontational” protests in the 1980s and of “violent encounters” in the 1990s. The declines correspond largely to the tactics of the peace movement, while the later increases in violence reflect the rise of right-wing anti-immigrant groups and of the absorption of East Germany. Figure 1.3 summarizes these data for West Germany through 1988 and for the expanded country between 1989 and 1990.

Figure 1.3: Protest Events in Germany, 1950 – 1990 Source: Data provided by Dieter Rucht.

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Sources Of Repertoire Change

This takes us to the factors that bring about changes in repertoires. Wecan distinguish two major kinds of process in repertoire change: the effects of periods of rapid political change and the outcome of incrementally changing structural factors. The first are more dramatic, sometimes produce lasting change, but are more easily routinized and repressed as authorities regain control of contention. Incremental changes are less dramatic, depend on factors that evolve more slowly, but can be more enduring. With respect to periods of rapid political change, during major cycles of contention, the ordinary preference for familiar claim-making routines dissolves in spurts of innovation. American civil rights activists did not simply use the decorous old social movement forms they inherited but deliberately disrupted existing routines. Periods of rapid political change produce sequences of innovation in repertoires, and successive innovations largely account for the ebb and flow of movement activity (Kriesi etal. 1995; McAdam 1983). During such times of rapid political change, we find both actions andreactions. As each new round of claim making begins to threaten the interestsof (or provide new opportunities for) political actors who had previouslyremained inactive, a spiral of contention ensues. Social movementsengender countermovements. Challengers’ allies appear andretreat. The state, at first thrown off balance by new forms of contention,eventually reacts and in some cases turns to repression. The extremecase arrives in a revolutionary situation: a deep split in control ofcoercive means. During a revolutionary situation, every actor ’s interest isat risk, and many actors therefore mobilize for action. We saw exactly thatshift in the Ukrainian conflicts of 2013 – 2014. As we will argue, the major constraints and incentives for contentious politics are political opportunity structures, and most of these are local and national. But we think it is important to look beyond the nationstate at processes such as the shift of some kinds of contention to international institutions, the framing of local issues as the results of global problems, and the formation of transnational networks and movement coalitions. A recent major change is globalization, the increasing economic integration of the planet. In contrast to the effects of periods of rapid change, incrementalchanges in repertoires are less dramatic, but more decisive in the long run. The major causes of incremental change sort into three main categories: • Connections between claim making and everyday social organization . For example, mothers bereft of bread for their children gather around the granary whose owner they suspect of hoarding flour. Land-poor peasants who believe that the landlord stole their land sometimes occupy it. And workers, whose one effective tool is the fact that their labor is necessary to make the wheels of production turn, strike to prevent employers from the successful pursuit of profit. • Cumulative creation of a signaling system by contention itself . For example, over the past two centuries, French claim makers have drawn on a dense experience with contention. Three major revolutions, a revolutionary commune, more than a hundred years of strikes, barricades, marches, and demonstrations all lie under the surface of French contention today, to be drawn on, innovated upon, and replayed in endless permutations (Tartakowsky 2005; Tilly 1986). • Operation of the regime as such. Regimes sort performances into prescribed, tolerated, and forbidden categories, dispensing threats and penalties to claimants who move onto forbidden

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