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ECONOMIC
ANTHROPOLOGY

A Study in Comparative Economics

Originally published in 1940 as

THE ECONOMIC LIFE OF PRIMITIVE PFOPLES

B Y

MELVILLE J. HERSKOVITS

1952

NEW YORK: ALFRED A. KNOPF

5; 1 1 IIS IS A ROR/OI BOOK

>fe PI T RLISIlt|) B\ AIFRH) A. KNOI

PF, INC. ^

Copyright 1910, 1952 by Melville J. Herskovtts. All rights reserved. No
part of this book in excess of five hundred words may be reproduced in
any form without permission in writing from the publisher, except by
a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a
magazine or newspaper. Manufactured in the United States of America.
Published simultaneously in Canada by McClelland & Stewart Limited.

Originally published in 19-JO as THE ECONOMIC LIFE OF PRIMIIIVK PEOPLES.
Second edition, revised, enlarged, rewritten, reset, and printed from
new plates.

ECONOMIC: ANTHROPOLOGY

PREFACE

THIS BOOK, a thorough revision of The Economic Life of Primitive
Peoples, is an introduction to comparative economics, in the
broadest sense of the term. It would have been desirable so to
entitle it, had not economic science already assigned to this
designation the more restricted field of the comparison of free
enterprise with communist and fascist economies. The present
title, which stems from a suggestion put forward in 1927 by
N. S. B. Gras, seemed a feasible alternative, especially since the
term "economic anthropology" has slowly been finding a place
in the relevant anthropological literature. It is to be hoped that
it will gain currency among economists to define an aspect of
their discipline whose significance is receiving increasing recog-
nition from them.

The change in title represents a reorientation in point of view
that goes far beyond the question of mere terminology. Ten
years ago, the word "primitive" came easily to the lips. It is only
with the rapid development of communications of the past
decade, and the growing integration of peoples of the most
diverse cultures into the world scene, that the essentially pejora-
tive and tendentious character of this designation, like others
such as "savage," "backward," or "early," when applied to any
functioning way of life, became apparent. This is not the place
to analyze the cultural or psychological problems of the emergent
nationalisms found in expanding and newly literate communities
of Africa and Asia and of other non-machine societies. Yet when
their story is told, the role played by the reaction of their leaders
against designations of this order will be found to be a major

VI PREFACE

factor in the latent or explicit hostilities of which these move-
ments are in many cases the expression.

The word "primitive" is open to objection, further, because it
is incapable of precise definition. The presence or absence of a
written language, of power machinery, of least common de-
nominators of value these are objectively ascertainable facts
that have bearing on the study of many problems where cultures
of differing historical backgrounds, institutional organization, and
psychological orientations are to be compared. They are of
particular relevance where economic behavior and mechanisms
are under consideration, and in this context exemplify strikingly
their desirability as criteria of comparison when contrasted to the
essential lack of preciseness of the earlier, more inclusive desig-
nation "primitive."

The fact that this revision has necessitated what in many
cases amounts to a re-writing of the original work reflects in a
very real sense the developments in the study of the economics
of nonliterate, non-industrial, and non-pecuniary societies that
have taken place since 1940, when the earlier volume was pub-
lished. The neglect by earlier anthropologists of the economic
aspects of the cultures they studied no longer exists. Under
present conventions of field-work, no anthropologist of com-
petence takes as synonymous the technology of a people with
their economics, or considers it sufficient it he only studies the
canons of ownership, where problems of differentials in wealth
and position are his concern. The change is shown by the differ-
ence in length and treatment of many topics in this volume and
in its predecessor. The earlier single chapter on labor has had
to be expanded into two, one on work-patterns, the other on the
rewards of labor. Consumption norms now require separate
treatment. Elsewhere, the new data amplify presentations and
make it possible to clarify the implications of points that could
only be sketched a decade ago.

The expansion and revision of the first section, which deals
with theoretical and historical aspects of our subject, is likewise
the result of this development, though it concomitantly repre-
sents a growing interest in the subject-matter on the part of econ-
omists. It is true that much of this interest, expressed in con-
versations, has not as yet yielded substantial published results;
but it is apparent that the interest is there, and that systematic

PREFACE Vll

exploitation of the data by economists is only a matter of time.
I have made it a point to discuss with economists of widely
differing orientations problems of mutual concern treated in this
book, and have found a receptivity and understanding that could
not have been predicted ten years ago.

There will perhaps be those who will seek in these pages some
treatment of the effects of contact with the economies of Europe
and America on the systems with which we are concerned. This
is an aspect of the contemporary scene which is focal to the
problem of world adjustment. Too often, however, those who
must deal with situations of this order assume that the changes
that are concurring must be uni-directional, that the simplicity of
the "primitive" systems on which the industrialized order is
impinging makes the problem one of imposition rather than of
interplay. To the extent this is the case, this book may contribute
to the understanding of the historical forces at play by bringing
to those having to do with problems arising out of the spread of
Euroamerican technology and industrialization throughout the
non-industrial world a realization of the background against
which these innovations must be projected, if a workable adjust-
ment is to be achieved. But these situations of contact, or the
processes involved in them, are not within the terms of reference
of this particular work. It is rather my aim to give the reader a
sense of the variation that marks the manner in which all men
achieve those aims of the application of scarce means to given
ends that can only result from an overview of the various systems
that mankind has devised to accomplish this fundamental re-
quirement of human civilization.

The purpose of this book thus remains what it was when first
written to provide information concerning the economic life of
nonliterate peoples, to consider some of the questions in eco-
nomic science that can be examined by the use of these data, and
to suggest lines of attack which may be profitably defined for
future use. In the main, I have tried to follow the conventional
categories of economics and to indicate the points at which the
economies with which we are concerned diverge so sharply from
our own that it is not possible to follow these conventions. I have
kept to a minimum the specialized technical terms of both an-
thropology and economics, so that what is written may be ac-
cessible to all whose interest lies in the dynamics of culture and

Vlll PREFACE

the variety of forms in which comparable institutions of differing
ways of life can be cast.

In documenting my discussion, I have used examples from my
own field research sparingly, sacrificing at times the special in-
sight that first-hand knowledge of a culture affords in enlarging
on a point, in order to use pertinent materials from other societies.
The history of social science is replete with examples of students
who have not learned the lesson of scientific method, that valid
generalization must rest on a broad base of factual materials. On
the other hand, I have not gone to the lengths of some of the
older writers of the comparative school, such as Frazer, or
Westermarck, or Sumner, who saw to it that every possible in-
stance bearing on a given point was included in their discussions.
For this, we have learned, means that while the reader ranges
widely, he is left without any sense of cultural depth and co-
hesiveness. It has seemed to me to be more advantageous to cite
fewer cases, and to present these more fully, than the tradition
of the comparative method as classically practiced would dictate.
I have therefore turned in the main to those contributions
wherein economic life is adequately treated in preference to
those where economic facts enter incidentally, to works repre-
senting the use of modern field techniques rather than to the
older sources; and I have favored the use of less well-known
data over those few instances of economic processes and institu-
tions, like the potlatch, which have been cited so often that they
need only to be referred to in order to call them to mind.

I may express again my indebtedness to the John Simon
Guggenheim Memorial Foundation and to Northwestern Uni-
versity for the support that made it possible for me to write the
original study, and to Northwestern University for funds that
aided me in preparing the manuscript of the present work for the
press. I may likewise repeat my thanks to those institutions,
colleagues, and friends whose advice and assistance were so
valuable in helping me write the earlier book. In addition I
should like to acknowledge the stimulating suggestions of those,
like Professor K. F. Walker of Adelaide University, Australia,
whose perceptive and detailed reviews of that work I have found
helpful. To those others who have read and commented on parts
of this re-writing in manuscript I likewise extend my thanks
Professors Yale Brozen, Frank Fetter, Jules Henry, Elmo Hoh-

PREFACE IX

man, Dr. Helen Hohman, Mr. Edward E. LeClair, Jr., Dr. Karl
de Schweinitz, Jr., Professors Sol Tax and Harold Williamson.
Finally, I take pleasure in expressing my appreciation to my
friend, Professor Frank II. Knight, for his willingness to allow me
to reprint his analysis of my original presentation which, with
my reply, will be found in the Appendix.

MELVILLE J. HERSKOVITS
Evanston, Illinois

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

CONTENTS

Parti. INTRODUCTION

i. Economizing and Rational Behavior 3

ii. Before the Machine 25

in. Anthropology and Economics 42

Part II. PRODUCTION

iv. Getting a Living 67

v. Patterns of Labor 88

vi. Incentives and Rewards 109

vn. Division of Labor and Specialization 124

Part HI. EXCHANGE AND DISTRIBUTION

viii. Gift and Ceremonial Exchange 155

ix. Trade and Barter 180
x. Business Enterprise, Credit, and the Determination

of Value 204

xi. Money and Wealth 238

xii. Constunption Norms and Standards of Living 269

xiu. Capital Formation 298

Xii CONTENTS

Part IV. PROPERTY

xiv. The Problem of Ownership 313

xv. Land Tenure: Hunters, Herders and Food Gatherers 331

xvi. Land Tenure: Agricultural Peoples 350

xvii. Goods, Tangible and Intangible 371

Part V. THE ECONOMIC SURPLUS

xvni. Population Size, Economic Surplus and Social

Leisure 395

xix. The Cost of Government 416

xx. The Service of the Supernatural 439

xxi. Wealth, Display and Status 461

PartVI. CONCLUSIONS
xxii. Some Problems and Points of View 487

APPENDIX

Deduction and Induction in Economics

(by Frank H. Knight and Melville J. Herskovits) 507

Bibliography 533

Index follows page 551

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

TEXT FIGURES

1. "Trade" in Aboriginal Australia and "Trade"

Relationships with Torres Strait, Neiv Guinea 200

2. Value of Pigs and Tusks on Malekula 267

3. Seasonal Variation in Food Resources of the Lozi 294

4. Average Weekly Expenditures per Family for Various

Types of Food-Stuffs and Supplies, by Malay of
Kckintan 296

5. Total Number of Pigs Owned by Households in

Noronai Village, Northeast Sinai, Solomon Islands 410

Maps of Tribal and Place-Names

I. POLYNESIA AND THE AMERICAS 548

II. THE OLD WORLD ' 550

Xlll

PART I

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER I

ECONOMISING AND RATIONAL
BEHAVIOR

THE ELEMENTS of scarcity and choice, which are the outstanding
factors in human experience that give economic science its
reason for being, rest psychologically on firm ground. It is a
truism that wants are capable of a degree of expansion the end
of which has not been reached by any known society. Wants, that
is, apparently manifest a certain dynamic quality, which seems
to derive from the inventiveness and receptivity of man, and are
ultimately to be referred to the cumulative nature of human
culture itself. Each generation takes for granted the cultural
setting of the society into which it is born. And each, because
of the creative restlessness of man, adds its contribution to the
total culture of the group it comprises.

It is important for us, at this point, to consider the breadth of
social effort included under the term "economizing." How wide
this is becomes evident in reading the many discussions of the
scope of economics and its relation to the term from which the
discipline derives its name. Knight holds that common definitions
are too inclusive: "The term economic has come to be used in a
sense which is practically synonymous with intelligent ' or ra-
tional." "It is in accord with good linguistic usage," he continues,
"to think and speak of the whole problem of living as one of
economy, the economical use of time, energy, etc. resource of
every sort." Yet he stresses the point that "the restrictions which
mark off the modestly limited domain of economic science

4 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

within the inclusive sphere of knowledge as a whole" must be
clearly understood. 1

This limitation is indicated by Benham, who states that "the
rationale of economic activity is to satisfy human wants by
producing consumers' goods." He explains: "People are continu-
ally deciding how they will use their time and energy and
property and how they will spend their money. . . . It is these
decisions which determine the nature and extent of economic
activity." 2 A philosopher, assessing the nature of the economiz-
ing experience, states: "We can start with one agreed quality:
Economizing is a way of doing things; first, of thinking about
them, then, of acting; in sum, of arranging or choosing them. It
is imposed on us by scarcity of means in relation to expanding
desires. In this sense, it is purposive, a process which we direct
and develop creatively; for we can agree that choice involves
this." 3 This mode of circumscribing the term emphasizes con-
scious choice, stresses the essential role of alternatives between
which to choose, and relates the whole to the problem of attain-
ing efficiency through choosing.

Like any phenomenon that exists in time, the development of
the wants of a people is irreversible. Small, isolated nonliterate
societies may sometimes seem to the observer to live in terms of
a degree of stability and conservatism that belies this. But there
is no study of cultural change in process, or of contact between
peoples having different cultures, which does not document the
proposition that a people give over an item in their cultural store
only when it becomes apparent to them that a more desirable
substitute iron implements for stone tools, for example is at
hand, or when circumstances beyond their control dictate this.
There is nothing more difficult to accept than a lowered stand-
ard of living.

Our primary concern in these pages is to understand the
cross-cultural implications of the process of economizing. We
may begin our analysis by considering the concept of a free
good. It is a commonplace in economic theory, for example, that
no economic value can be assigned to a sunset or the view of a
mountain, since these are to be had for the taking. It is only
when a given good is not available in quantities to supply every

1 Knight ( 1933), 1-2. 3 Macfie, 20.

2 Benham, 5-6.

ECONOMIZING AND RATIONAL BEHAVIOR 5

desire for it that the economizing process comes into play. Even
in the case of the utilization of what would seem to be a free
good, however, some economic factors may enter. There may
be more than enough animals available, and no restrictions on
the member of the tribe as to where and what he will hunt; but
choices will nonetheless have to be made. These considerations
cannot be overlooked if the free good is not to lie, inert, as a
theoretical concept and not as a functioning element in the daily
life of the people.

It is generally recognized by economists that even the utiliza-
tion of air, an example of a free good often cited, entails econ-
omizing. This is apparent if we consider so simple an example
of economic behavior as occurs when an Australian aborigine
decides to build a fire and a wind-screen. In this case, a choice is
made between the cold (free) air of the night and the warmed
( economic ) air available only after the energy needed to collect
wood, kindle the fire (no mean task where a fire-drill must be
used), and build the screen, has been expended. It is apparent,
in these instances, that the question of whether a resource is
free or economic is not a simple concept. An understanding of
these critical cases confirms empirically the economic principle
that the applicability of the concept depends on the ends sought.
Where choice enters so that the satisfactions derived are to be
maximized, the free good becomes an economic one.

Beyond whatever free goods may be available, even to mem-
bers of societies with the smallest numbers, the simplest tech-
nologies and the most direct economic systems, the far greater
number of goods are not free. Even the provision of basic needs,
food and shelter and clothing and implements, must inevitably
involve choice; moreover, these choices are dictated not only by
the alternatives between available items, but by the patterns of
the culture of the individual who, in the final analysis, must do the
choosing. Choice between alternatives is limited not only by the
goods and services available to satisfy wants. The nature of
the available goods and of the wants they are to satisfy is like-
wise restricted. Economizing, that is, is Slrried on in a cultural
matrix. The matter has been phrased cogently in considering the
economy of southern Bougainville, Solomon Islands: "At the
present, in answer to the problem of discrepancy between needs
and resources, it is sufficient to recall that these needs are cultural

6 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

rather than nutritional, and to state the conviction that there will
always be discrepancies between cultural needs and available
resources." 4 Social conventions, religious beliefs, aesthetic con-
ceptions, and ethical prescriptions all function in shaping the
wants of peoples and the times and places and circumstances
in which they can be satisfied.

We shall see how, for example, certain West African peoples
conventionally and traditionally expend food so liberally on
feasts that must be given during the dry season that at the
beginning of the rainy season, when hard labor of breaking the
ground for the new planting has to be performed, there is an
actual inadequacy of caloric intake that could easily be supplied
if food resources had been conserved. 5 It must b.e emphasized
that there is no question of lack of foresight, for it is well estab-
lished that these peoples are aware of the alternate possibility.
It is rather a question of economic choice dictated by the drive
to maximize satisfactions in terms of the traditional values of
the culture.

As another instance, we may consider the utilization of land
among the Kogi (or Kagaba) Indians who inhabit the Sierra
Nevada range of northeastern Colombia. Because of the steep-
ness of the mountains and the degree of erosion, this agricultural
people is faced with a scarcity of land that forces each family
to work patches in the lowland and highland areas, moving from
one to another at considerable cost of expenditure in time and
energy. In these mountain ranges, however, are many terraces,
built by the earlier inhabitants, where numerous archaeological
remains suggest a stable and considerable population. These
terraces, each of which might provide on the average about two
and a half acres of arable land, are not used, but the difficult
mountain-sides and tiny patches in the valleys, often far re-
moved from the habitation, are cultivated instead. The reason is
a supernatural one: "There are many spirits of the dead there,"
they say. Except when they place offerings at these places, they
avoid them, thus "depriving themselves of their best land" and
"being forced to plant in patches far from each other, patches
which at times are steep and very small." 6

One of the principles of early economic theory was to regard

4 Oliver (1949a), 18. 6 Dolmatoff, 97-101.

5 See below, 277-80, 290-3.

ECONOMIZING AND RATIONAL BEHAVIOR 7

the individual as the point from which all development of
theoretical principles must begin. We have come to realize that
the individual never exists alone; that a society, as it has been
put, is more than an aggregate of Robinson Crusoes; and that
social interaction in terms of cultural tradition dictates recon-
sideration of the earlier starting-point. The process of economiz-
ing, we recognize, is essentially based on the broader organiza-
tion of society. Yet the individual cannot be left out of the
picture, for all forms of social behavior, in the final analysis,
must be referred to the behavior of individual members of a
given society in specific situations.

This is why we must be on our guard against permitting the
pendulum of reaction against the older point of view to swing to
a point where we reify the common elements in the behavior of
individuals into a construct that is conceived as existing by and
of itself. There is much truth in the statement by Polanyi: "The
outstanding discovery of recent historical and anthropological
research is that man's economy, as a rule, is submerged in his
social relationships." However, anyone who has had first-hand
experience among nonliterate, non-machine, and non-pecuniary
peoples, can but wonder at the validity of the statement which
succeeds the sentence just quoted: "He does not act so as to
safeguard his individual interest in the possession of material
goods; he acts so as to safeguard his social standing, his social
claims, his social assets. He values material goods only in so far
as they serve this end." 7

Paulme has drawn conclusions concerning this point, based on
her research among the Dogon of West Africa, which depict
somewhat more realistically the interaction between individual
and social factors in the economic process. "It is clear," she
says, "that individual advantage, understood as the realization
of the greatest possible gain with the expenditure of a minimum
of effort is not the sole force that causes men to work in the
society we are studying. Each person is motivated, more or less
consciously, in more or less indirect ways, by the desire for the
well-being, wealth and prestige of the community as a whole." 8
All choices, that is, however they may be influenced by con-
siderations of social standing, social claims, and social assets, are
ultimately the choices of individuals.

7 Polanyi, 46. 8 Translated from Paulme, 194.

8 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

In short, we must not reject Economic Man only to substitute
Society as an exclusive formula for understanding economic
behavior and as a base-point for analysis. Economizing is never
carried on unilaterally. The choices of the individual must al-
ways be limited by the resources of his society and the values of
his culture. But the factors of variation to be found even within
the smallest, most homogenous, and most conservative society
must not be lost sight of. The economic unit, we must conclude,
is the individual operating as a member of his society, in terms of
the culture of his group.

This implies that any analysis of the schedule of wants of a
given society which projects these wants against the supply of
goods and services available to satisfy them must be supple-
mented by introducing a third term into the equation; the cul-
tural definition of wants and the conventions that dictate how
and when they are to be regarded as adequately satisfied. It is
in terms of these factors that we will consider the economic
systems of nonliterate, non-machine, and, often, non-pecuniary
peoples treated in this book.

THE MEANS by which the ends of the economizing process,
however defined, are achieved, comprise universals in human
experience. They therefore provide the basis for all generaliza-
tions concerning the nature and functioning of economic systems,
whatever their form and whatever the particular mechanisms
they may use to convert these means into satisfying the wants
that make up the socially sanctioned ends toward whose fulfill-
ment a given economy is directed.

We may move, first of all, to those human and ecological
factors that provide the goods and services which satisfy the
demands of living, both biological and psychological, and that
are at the core of any economic system. In some form, these
factors are present everywhere; without their interaction life as
we know it could not exist.

Initially, the elements that are given by the world as it is
constituted must be considered: the natural resources derived
from the habitat, and the labor power of men themselves, the
prime mover in the utilization of what is provided by the natural

ECONOMIZING AND RATIONAL BEHAVIOR 9

setting. As Knight has phrased it, these are the "ultimate" re-
sources, from which, through intermediate steps that vary in
number with economies of different degrees of complexity, come
the consumption goods that make possible the gratification of
wants. 9

But these do not tell the whole tale, for everywhere there must
be the technical knowledge that permits men to take advantage
of the resources to which they must look for the raw materials
of their economy, and those tools they devise to permit them
to utilize their labor effectively in exploiting the natural re-
sources of the territories they inhabit. Their technologies, how-
ever crude, are expressed in the form of goods which are to be
thought of, in the less complex economies, as capital goods of
varying degrees of permanency. Clearing a waterhole can be
interpreted in this way, despite the simplicity of the technique
whereby the improvement of the natural resource is achieved,
and the slight amount of time and energy that is expended in
achieving this end. A bow and arrow is likewise an intermediate
good of this sort. The effort capitalized in its making brings
return in the greater effectiveness of its maker when hunting the
game he needs for subsistence, or for prestige, or for other desired
ends.

Yet while all these factors natural resources, man-power, tech-
nical knowledge, and capital equipment must be present in
the productive processes of any functioning economy, the weight-
ing of each in making the whole a going concern may differ

widelv. It is not chance that economists in their discussions have

found it necessary to stress these prime factors, and especially
to make explicit the role of "ultimate" resources. In a pecuniary,
machine economy such as that of Europe and America, they are
easily lost sight of in the face of the wealth of technical knowl-
edge and the complexities of capital investment, with their re-
sulting equipment which pours forth the enormous quantities
and variety of goods that satisfy the needs of the people living
in these societies.

In the non-pecuniary, non-machine societies with which we
will be concerned, almost the exact opposite obtains. The factors
of natural resources and man-power stand out in bold relief. One
must search and interpret if the phenomenon of capitalization is

Knight (1933), 41.

1O ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

to be taken into account; the technological equipment is direct
and relatively simple and at once apparent; the intermediate
steps between the utilization of raw materials and the pro-
duction of a consumption good are few. We shall see, in consider-
ing the simplest economies, how close to the subsistence level a
society can be. Among nonliterate peoples in general, both the
inventory of goods and services and the range of wants to be
satisfied, as expressed in the standards of living of the people,
are relatively restricted. The margin between available resources
and physical survival, in the simplest of these economies, such
as are found among the South African Bushmen, or the Indians
of the Great Basin region of western United States, or the in-
habitants of Tierra del Fuego, is slender indeed. The scarcity of
available goods in societies living on this level holds the factor of
choice to the narrowest of ranges; the wants are to a considerable
degree biological and are of the order of survival itself. Here, in
short, the need to economize does not have to be analyzed in
forms of mathematical formulae; it is apparent, in all its stark
biological implications, for the most casual traveler to observe.

These simplest economies, however, are few in number. They
shade imperceptibly into systems in which increasing command
of technology and greater capital equipment cause the factors of
natural resources and labor-power again to be obscured by the
secondary aspects of the total equipment for production. Even
so, it is rare in these intermediate societies to find individuals as
completely removed from the primary factors as, let us say, are
the urban dwellers of Europe and America, though such persons
are sporadically to be found. The apparatus to care for wants is
capable of greater productivity, and the wants to be satisfied are
correspondingly expanded. The margin which permits the ex-
penditure of labor-power for the production of services as well
as goods is greater, and this in turn leads to a greater degree of
specialization.

In these societies, too, the entrepreneurial function, where it is
to be discerned at all, is at a minimum. The men who, in terms
of the economies of Euroamerican society, direct industrial
enterprises, decide what is to be produced and how, hire work-
men and direct what they shall do, borrow money to acquire
capital goods or land holdings, and assume the risks inherent in
their ventures, do not exist, in the sense of the word as used by

ECONOMIZING AND RATIONAL BEHAVIOR 11

economists, in non-pecuniary, non-industrialized societies. For
in these societies, production and distribution involve little of
the profit motive, and labor is only in special instances for hire.
Attempts that have been made to discern the entrepreneur
in a South Seas chief or in a Bantu household head afford ex-
amples of this. Firth's statement, that he employs the term, "in
default of finding a better," is to the point. "It must be taken in
its simplest sense," he cautions, "of the person primarily re-
sponsible for an undertaking, and is not intended to imply prop-
ositions about risk-taking and profit-reception. For the Tikopia
economy the term covers ownership of the final product, re-
sponsibility for payment of the workers if such is to be made, and
usually some actual participation in the work." 10 In the case of
the Bantu, Goodfellow, commenting on the fact that "the function
of consumers to release part of their resources for further general
production has scarcely existed," concludes that, "there has been
little room for the function of the entrepreneur in managing such

resources." n

We come here to a point that cannot be stressed too early in
our discussion. This concerns the generalized nature of the mech-
anisms and institutions that mark the economies of all the non-
literate, non-machine societies. It is a point that will recur as a
basic theme of this book, and will be extensively documented in
the pages that follow. It explains the difficulties that arise when
we attempt to apply the more refined concepts of economics to
these societies, or when we attempt to test some of the more
debated hypotheses of economic theory by reference to them.
The example given above of the nature of a capital good in
such an economy makes the point; it could be equally well made
if the question of the character of rent or interest were raised. In
addition, the intimate interlarding of economic motivations with
these of a religious or artistic nature further complicates the
analysis.

Nonetheless, however generalized and however difficult to
disentangle from their cultural matrix, the basic elements of the
apparatus to care for wants are present in every economy. We
may conceive of the totality of economic systems as lying on
a kind of continuum. At one pole we find the societies living
closest to the subsistence level, with the exploitation of natural

10 Raymond Firth ( 1939), 134 n. n Goodfellow, 80.

12 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

resources slight, a slender endowment of technical knowledge,
and implements few and simple. At the other end we place the
great literate population aggregates, with their machine tech-
nologies, producing vast stores of goods and supporting a great
variety of specialists to satisfy the wants of the people. Between
these extremes lie the many societies having intermediate de-
grees of economic complexity and technical resource. As we move
from the less to the more complex, the choices that are afforded
between alternative possibilities become greater, the range of
wants to be satisfied wider. But in every case choices must be
made.

THE MECHANISMS of production represent only the initial steps
in the total system whereby the goods and services that meet the
needs of a people are made available to them. The apparatus
that utilizes the resources at hand to care for wants must be
linked with some mode of distributing what has been produced
if the members of a group are to be able to make their choices
among the goods and services that represent the alternative
possibilities presented to them. And as with the mechanisms of
production, the distributive system, though a universal in human
social life, takes on a vast number of forms. These vary from the
highly specialized and complex modes of distribution found in
the pecuniary, mechanized societies of Europe and America to
the generalized and diffuse forms found among small, isolated,
nonliterate groups.

How rudimentary the distributive mechanism can be is realized
when we consider those societies where the economic unit is the
self -sufficient family. It has, indeed, been held that there could
be no distributive mechanism present at all in such situations,
since "logically . . . each household would provide for its own
industrial wants. No products would be exchanged in such a
society. Productive effort would be directed solely to the satis-
faction of the wants of the household." 12 In terms of our discus-
sion, this implies that the distributive element of these economies
is simply omitted, and the middle term of the progression from

12 Usher (1920), 4.

ECONOMIZING AND RATIONAL BEHAVIOR 13

production through distribution to consumption falls out. In
actuality, however, this never happens. An exchange of goods
and services may not occur between households. Yet from the
fact that no human society exists wherein at least the division of
labor along sex lines is absent, it follows that within the smallest,
most self-sufficient households some kind of exchange of services,
and of the goods produced by these services, must be postulated.
For there can be no division of labor without a resulting economic
exchange. The universality of the fact of division of labor, even
if only on sex lines, underscores the essential soundness of the
reasoning which has made of exchange and distribution basic
factors in all economic theory.

This is apparent, for example, when we consider the distribu-
tion system of the Lunga and other tribes of the Kimberly Divi-
sion of Western Australia, who have this kind of family-band
subsistence economy.

The husband must from time to time give kangaroo to his
wife's parents and brothers; besides this he always distrib-
utes a little among his blood relatives. Most of what the
woman has obtained is consumed by herself, husband and
children; if she has a little extra she takes some to her
mother, sister, mother's mother, father, in fact to any close
relative. She on another occasion receives similar offerings
from them, and also meat from her male relatives, which she
shares with her husband and children. These gifts are not
compulsory as are her husband's to her people. They are
dictated by tribal sentiment and her own affection for these
individuals; by kinship system which finds concrete ex-
pression not only in attitudes and linguistic usage, but also
in the exchange of the limited food resources and the mate-
rial and ritual objects which are found in the community.
Kinship as seen in Australia is practical altruism or enlight-
ened self-interest. 13

A somewhat analagous state of affairs is found among the cattle-
keeping Swazi of South Africa, where "economically the family
is the unit in production and consumption" and where, in pre-
contact times, trade was non-existent. 14

The simplicity of the distributive mechanism in societies such
13 Kaberry, 33. u Marwick, 43-4, 177-8.

14 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

as these, or as are to be found in the Ama/on basin, stands in
sharp contrast to the manner in which goods are distributed to
the ultimate consumer in the industrialized societies of Europe
and America. Here the economic problem resolves itself into an
analysis of market operations which are so vast and which present
such a multiplicity of choice that they seem to differ in kind
rather than in degree when compared to the household econ-
omies of many nonliterate peoples.

From one point of view, indeed, the difference actually is one
of kind. In the simplest economic systems, no pecuniary factor
enters. What elementary types of exchanges of goods and services
occur are on the basis of an immediate, ad hoc kind of give and
take. Because of this, the problems raised in assessing the nature
and forms of exchanges, and the kinds of choices that are made,
take on a new and particular shape. The market is present in
such rudimentary form that it exists by definition only; no least
common denominator of value obtains; there is a face-to-face
relationship between producer and consumer.

We must not, however, lose sight of the intermediate societies,
such as those of Central America or West Africa, in stressing the
economies of the simplest sort. In these more complex systems,
where the market, distinguishable as such in its institutionalized
forms, and based on exchanges involving the use of pecuniary
media money is present, the complexity of the process that
marks the movement of goods and services to the ultimate con-
sumer in industrial communities is almost entirely lacking. This
derives from the fact that even among nonliterate peoples, whose
economies are of this order of complexity, the individual controls
a substantial proportion of the techniques employed by his group
in the basic tasks of getting a living, in addition to whatever
specialized skills he may possess in the production of capital and
consumption goods. Here again, then, it follows that even in such
societies, as far as the necessities of life are concerned, distribu-
tion is in large measure a process of allocating what has been
produced by members of the household to those who constitute
its personnel. Such commercial transactions as do take place,
except among social aggregates large enough to permit a degree
of specialization rare in nonliterate societies, are again personal,
direct, and specific.

Moreover, to the extent that the market in such societies does

ECONOMIZING AND RATIONAL BEHAVIOR 15

possess an objective and formal existence, it is a mechanism that
facilitates the exchange of goods between members of different
communities rather than between those who belong in the same
group. This proposition will be amply documented in later
pages. 15 Here it need only be pointed out that where the degree
of specialization in production is slight, no market-place is
needed to effectuate whatever few exchanges of goods may be
consummated. By far the greater number of cases of market
operations we shall encounter will be those in which members
of different villages or tribes exchange such commodities as each
produces in excess of its own needs for such other goods as its
members do not themselves manufacture.

In the absence of pecuniary mechanisms and the element of
profit in the transactions of the market, it follows that the prob-
lem of the relation between supply and demand takes on unex-
pected turns. The West African woman trader who will not
lower the price of the commodity she sells when business is dull
and this is an economy where values have for centuries been
expressed in the quantitative terms of the prevalent form of
money presents a difficult enough problem. But where the
total supply of commodities, even of subsistence goods, avail-
able to the members of a given society is severely limited, the
question of fluctuations in value becomes pointless.

Economic theory, on the whole, is not geared to consider the
problem of demand schedules where the alternatives are so re-
stricted that there is no margin between utility and disutility
or to put it in other terms, where the choices are so few that no
curve of indifference can be drawn between satisfactions and
costs, where costs are always maximized, since individuals must
work or starve. In situations such as these, the utility of any
good recognized by the culture as having utility is maximized in
its mere possession, where it is a tool; or in the very opportunity
to consume it, if it is a commodity such as food. There is no
inducement to trade it for something else, since there are no
costs (disutilities) to be taken into account.

Thus food, to a South African Bushman or a native of Tierra
del Fuego, who lives always in a state of potential hunger, is
always of maximum value, since it is essential to the mainte-
nance of life itself. And since there is little surplus of energy or

15 See below, Ch. IX.

l6 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

resources available for other activities than the food quest, it
follows that whatever commodities, such as clothing, weapons,
and the like are produced, likewise have constant maximum
value and are not subject to exchanges essential to the existence
of a market in any sense of the term. Differential utilities do
enter, as, for example, where an Australian aborigine cannot
kill an animal that has food value for him, despite his hunger,
because of a system of totemic belief that taboos the animal
Here the disutility of the animal as food is matched by its utility
as a supernatural and social agent. But in setting the standards
of utility in such a case no distributive mechanism, no market
factor, enters, and the utilities are of the all-or-none variety.

In the vastly greater number of non-machine societies, in
which people are not pressed against the iron wall of subsist-
ence needs, and the range of choice widens, the factor of differ-
ential utility is present. A hungry man may choose between fowl
and game for his meal, or between yams and taro. A less hungry
one may make his choice between work and leisure, food and
effort. A person confronted with a problem beyond his means of
solving may employ the services of a diviner or of a worker of
magic. But even here the measurement of differential utilities in
terms of price based on the fluctuations of the market in re-
sponse to the factors of supply and demand may be discerned
but dimly, if at all. In these societies the market is not free; it
is a market in which "prices" evaluations in whatever terms
are "administered" by custom.

It is not a question of which food is cheaper, and of balancing
this against a desire for a change to taro after having eaten too
many yams. Both foods, in all likelihood, will be equally avail-
able; they may well be perfect substitutes, as concerns effort
required to grow them as well as concerns preference in taste.
But money cost will be of no importance because it is not a factor.
Or again, the decision where to seek advice will be made on the
basis of entirely extra-pecuniary considerations that is, with-
out weighing costs against satisfactions. Our man may have lost
faith in the skill of his diviner, or he may have decided that the
situation calls for a magic charm rather than the intervention of
the gods. Choice is thus dictated by differentials in utility; but
the utility is not measured in terms of alternate costs (prices)

ECONOMIZING AND RATIONAL BEHAVIOR 1^

by the one who makes the choice, and is not measurable in
quantitative terms by the student.

We have again reached the point where we must take into
account the fact that the economic institutions and mechanisms
that are sharply differentiated in the machine societies become
blurred and generalized in nonliterate cultures. There can, for
example, be no question that the functioning of price mecha-
nisms in the economic systems of Europe and America can be
studied in the objective terms of economic theory, which has
tellingly employed it as affording a precise measure of the choices
made in the market by consumers. Its place in popular thinking
likewise reflects its importance as an isolate in the economy. "No
judgements are more closely associated with our daily living than
judgements of price and the judgements of material values that
underlie the structures of market prices," Usher has observed.
"Because they are commonplaces of our living we are prone to
think of them as simple and obvious, though they are no less
complex than any other value judgements." 1G

But what of the price mechanism in societies where cost is
but one of a number of considerations dictating economic be-
havior? Or where it does not figure at all? Where the producer
is the consumer of the goods he produces or of the greater pro-
portion of what he produces, where market dealings are deter-
mined by all kinds of non-economic factors? Here the problem
of ascertaining why given choices are made and how the eco-
nomic devices that help maximize satisfactions actually function
calls for an attack that will take into account the cross-cultural
variations in the nature of the data.

WE HAVE seen that the scarcity of goods in the face of the wants
of a given people at a given time is a universal fact of human
experience; that no economy has been discovered wherein
enough goods are produced in enough variety to satisfy all the
wants of all the members of any society. This is true whether
the group is small or large, the mechanisms of its economic sys-
10 Usher (1949), 146.

l8 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

tern simple or complex. More important, it is true whether the
society is undisturbed and the differences in its way of life from
one generation to another slight, or whether it is in a state of
dynamic change. The dissimilarities between any society and
any other in these respects is one of degree and not of kind. The
general principle, therefore, stands, despite the many changes
that are rung on the basic theme manifested in the particular
forms it assumes in functioning economies.

It can also be taken as cross-culturally acceptable that, on the
whole, the individual tends to maximize his satisfactions in
terms of the choices he makes. Where the gap between utility
and disutility is appreciable, and the producer or consumer of
a good or service is free to make his choice, then, other things
being equal, he will make his choice in terms of utility rather
than disutility. One need not accept the hedonism of classical
economics to recognize the validity, on broad lines, of the prop-
osition, at least in the terms in which we have phrased it here.

Yet it should be apparent that the two basic postulates of
economic science the allocation of scarce resources among al-
ternative ends and the conscious determination of the choices
made in maximizing satisfactions are not of the same order.
The first is a statement of fact that can be objectively verified.
In pecuniary, machine economies this can be done by means of
price analysis which shows how the market responds to scarci-
ties or overproduction of given commodities. In non-pecuniary,
non-machine, and nonliterate societies we can have recourse to
ethnographic descriptions of the range of goods produced by a
people and record the choices that are actually reached. The
empirical nature of analyses that press the point further, inquir-
ing into the kind of resources a people can draw on, and how
they are utilized in producing ultimate consumption goods, is
likewise apparent. The forms taken by competitive striving for
a good in short supply, if competitive patterns are present, and
the degree to which this striving stimulates to further produc-
tion, can also be objectively described. We can determine
whether bidding will be in terms of prestige or price. We can
ascertain whether a failure to increase supply is due to lack of
ultimate resources, or to non-economic causes of a social or reli-
gious order. Or, where the response to increased demand is in-
crease in supply, we can find out how this increase has occurred

ECONOMIZING AND RATIONAL BEHAVIOR 19

and, given time and resources for adequate investigation of the
problem, the extent to which the supply has increased.

The second proposition, however, lies in the realm of values,
not only in the technical sense of economic science, but in the
broader philosophical connotation of those ultimate sanctions
to behavior that give meaning to life. It is possible to bring ob-
jective proof, that is, as to what men do in the way of economiz-
ing; the question why they do it rests on subjective and cultural
factors. It is significant that so much of that aspect of economic
theory that bears on this latter point derives from assumptions of
a psychological nature. It is more than a figure of speech when
economists speak of "rationalizing" production or distribution.
The usage derives logically and semantically from the promi-
nence traditionally given the view that man, in his economic
behavior, acts rationally.

The earlier concept of Economic Man, the most extreme ex-
pression of this position, has long since been given over by
economists, together with any conclusions that may have been
drawn concerning the relevance of this concept as indicative of
Human Nature in the large. The influence of the earlier eco-
nomic historians was important in bringing about this changed
point of view. They indicated the need to take time and place
into full account if the economies of earlier periods of western
European society were to be understood. The process of refining
the conception of the role of rational choice has continued, with
stress being laid on non-economic choices to be made in "the
business of living," or by successively eliminating more and
more variables in drawing assumptions so that the choices to be
made rationally are restricted not only as to time and place but
to the economic as against other aspects of living, as well.

We may take as an example the case of the Kwakiutl of the
Northwest Coast of North America, whose economy has been
the subject of much study, earlier in terms of its dramatic pres-
tige give-away rituals termed potlatches, and in later years
concerning the productive and social system that made this insti-
tution possible. As a result of these investigations, an inner dy-
namic of considerable significance for the point under discussion
has been revealed. Codere has phrased the matter in these terms:
"In what might be called their 'economic life* the Kwakiutl are
virtuoso technicians and extravagant producers and storers. It

20 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

is in their 'social life' that they 'economize'." In this society, that
is, a basic aim was the attainment and maintenance of position,
to be achieved only through the expenditure of valuable goods.
-As will be seen in a later chapter, 17 this was carried on by cer-
tain financial mechanisms investment, credit, and the payment
of interest, which, as it is phrased, "maximized the potlatch."
The underlying drive in this complex system, therefore, "is to
be found in the relation of the arbitrarily determined scarcity of
potlatch positions to the superabundance of some economic
goods." 18

The factor of rational choice, even when its applicability is
narrowed, still remains as an element in the basic postulates of
economic science. Price movements may theoretically be pre-
dicted without reference to the behavior of individuals on the
basis of fluctuations of supply and demand in an assumed eco-
nomic universe involving perfect competition, or where it is
assumed that competition is not perfect, and monopolistic fac-
tors enter. Yet underlying the argument is the human factor.
Thus Boulding, in explaining "the method of economic analysis,"
states that it begins "with very simple assumptions concerning
human behavior." He goes on "to discover what consequences
would follow for the economic system as a whole if these as-
sumptions were true" before bringing these findings "into closer
relation to real life by introducing qualifications of our original
assumptions and seeing how they affect the picture as we see
it." 19 In other words, it is the individual, the ultimate producer
and consumer, who is the prime economic mover. His mode of
rationally choosing the economically more advantageous alter-
natives, expressed in price, is considered so fundamental that it
is often not even verbalized, to say nothing of being ques-
tioned. 20

From the cross-cultural point of view, however, it is this as-
sumption that is at the crux of the analysis, no matter how quali-
fied or restricted it may be. For the economic anthropologist

17 See below, 226. nomena." Here, introducing his final

18 Codere, 68. two categories, he writes: "But what

19 Boulding, 15. is finally, or almost uniquely, dis-

20 Cf,, for example (512 below), tinetive of human phenomena is the
Knight's statement concerning the aspect of conscious purpose, or ra-
categories to be distinguished in the tionality."

"interpretative aspect of social phe-

ECONOMIZING AND RATIONAL BEHAVIOR 21

deals with the total range of human societies. Many of the ques-
tions he must ask thus arise from the fact that the economies
with which he deals present a vastly greater range of differ-
ences than the earlier systems of western Europe and the Medi-
terranean, which themselves had enough of a special quality to
cause the economic historians to raise comparable questions
concerning early statements of the universality of economic
mechanisms.

It is essential at this point to consider the problem of rational-
ity in the light of our knowledge of the psychology of culture.
The concept of culture, it will be remembered, includes all
phases of the learned, traditionally sanctioned behavior of hu-
man beings. These phases are conceived as aspects of culture,
which are universals in the ways of life of all human groups
technology, economics, social organization, political structures,
religious beliefs and institutions, language, art, music, and lit-
erary modes of expression being the broadest categories. These
universal aspects, in their institutionalized forms, are different
in all of the many different societies found over the earth. Yet
each of these forms represents the working out, in terms of its
own particular historical stream, of universal processes of cul-
tural dynamics which have brought about the results to be
observed in the life of any given people at any given point in
time. Thus, for example, we may say that the process of inter-
change of cultural items between two peoples will result from
contact between them; but what forms will be taken over in a
given case whether material or non-material elements, for ex-
ample will depend on the nature of the contacts, the varied
emphases laid by the two bodies of traditions concerned, and
the like. It follows that since the economic aspect of a given cul-
ture is but a part of the total range of culture, any valid princi-
ples that apply to the whole must likewise apply to any part of
the whole.

From the psychological point of view, culture is behavior in
the broadest sense of the term overt acts and their implicit
sanctions. The mechanism that gives stability to a culture is the
learning-conditioning process. An infant is born into a society
that is a going concern. In his education, he is conditioned to
behave, within the limits of variation sanctioned by his group,
like the other members of his society. This process is called en-

22 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

culturation. Not only motor habits, but also modes of conceptu-
alizing and evaluating are learned and learned so thoroughly
that, for the most part, they are taken for granted, and seem to
the enculturated individual to be as immutable as the contours
of his physical environment. Later in life, through the process
of invention or because of contact with other peoples, reencul-
turation may occur. But basic motor-habits and, above all, value-
systems and other sanctions are extremely tenacious, and are
modified slowly, if at all. 21 More than this, these value-systems
and other sanctions are taken for granted and form the basis for
judgments of all sorts.

The pertinence of this last fact for an understanding of the
nature of rational behavior is at once apparent. We may accept
the findings of psychology concerning the role of emotions and
other non-cognitive mechanisms in influencing behavior. In ad-
dition to these mechanisms, however, we find in the encultura-
tive process a further qualifying element the patterns of thought
that are laid down in accordance with the value-systems of the
group to which the individual belongs. The question of rational-
ity, then, at once poses itself: rational in terms of what system
of thought and behavior?

Granting the force of the enculturative conditioning, it is ap-
parent that this forms the principal basis for judgment, for choice,
for rational behavior in any given situation where alternatives
are presented. In the light of the principle that the process,
though universal, may manifest itself in different forms, we can
understand why peoples hold so stubbornly to their own value-
judgments. This brings us to cultural relativism, which stresses
the validity of the most diverse kinds of value-systems for the
peoples who live in accord with them. It derives from the fol-
lowing proposition in cultural psychology: "Judgments are based
on experience, and experience is interpreted by each individual
in terms of his own enculturation." 22 Its documentation is vast,
and derives principally from much research that has established
the devotion of every people to their own way of life, and the
extent to which the malfunctioning of culture can be ascribed to
a break-down in the value-systems of a people.

21 Cf. Herskovits (1948), 17-42, 22 Herskovits, op. cit, 63; see pp.

for a more extended discussion of 6178 for an elaboration of the im-
this phenomenon. plications of this proposition.

ECONOMIZING AND RATIONAL BEHAVIOR 2$

The principle of relativism is nothing new. In economics, it
has been present for many years, though its voice was never
strong and has become stilled with the passage of time. The
elder Keynes, in his classical work on the nature and method of
economics, turns continually to the problem. The major presen-
tation of relativism is to be found in a section entitled, signifi-
cantly, "On the Limits of the Validity of Economic Doctrines,"
though various passages elsewhere are devoted to considering
the "relativity of economic definitions." 23 "It is as true of eco-
nomic conditions, as of social conditions in general," he says,
"that they are ever subject to modification. They vary with the
legal form of society, and with national character and institu-
tions." ~ 4

He likewise points out how the earlier German economic his-
torians combatted the principle of the "absolutism of theory/'
His analysis, in terms of "abstract" and "concrete" economics,
recalls the point just made concerning the differences between
process and form. He does not in any sense cede the importance
of what he terms "abstract analysis"; he quite properly stresses
the need to ascertain the underlying least common denominators,
and then to discover how they manifest themselves in differing
concrete situations. But the "inferences which possess the charac-
ter of universality" the processes assumed to occur are to be
understood through the study of the varying forms they take. 25

This relativistic approach to the comparative study of eco-
nomic behavior and institutions provides the epistemological
foundation essential if the differences between different ways of
life are not to be analyzed and assessed in terms of principles
that derive from a single culture in this case, our own. The
point of view this latter engenders is called enthnocentrism, the
roots of which, in Euroamerican cultures, will be considered in
the next chapter. Here it need merely be pointed out that this

2:1 J. N. Keynes, 293-307; see also in Ch. XV of his work. It may, at

p. 15, n. 1; p. 64; pp. 163-7. this point, also be indicated that

24 Ibid., 295. the phrase "comparative economics,"

2ft It is not without significance, in which he attempted to study in

this connection, that almost the only broad terms of reference, in the ter-

economist who has attempted to sys- minology of economics is restricted

tematizc a comparative, cross-cul- to the comparative analysis of the

tural approach to economics has economic systems of free enterprise,

been R. Mukerjee, the relativism of communism, and fascism.

whose point of view is made explicit

24 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

is a habit of thought that must be guarded against if understand-
ing of any modes of behavior and value-systems other than those
of one's own group is to be attained.

The principle of maximizing satisfactions by the conscious
exercise of choice between scarce means is valid because we
find that this does occur in all societies. The cross-cultural per-
spective, however, gives us pause when defining "rationality." 26
We are tempted to consider as rational the behavior that repre-
sents only the typical reactions to be expected of those who
order their lives in terms of the economic systems of Europe and
America, where it is rational to defer the gratification of wants,
to accumulate resources, to produce more goods and multiply
services. Yet, as we shall abundantly see, there afe many cultures,
if not a majority of them, where the deferment of wants is held
to be disadvantageous, where best judgment dictates that re-
sources be expended, where there is no tradition of expanding
production and increasing services. None the less, in societies
having traditions of this sort, choices are not only made, but
debated. It will be our task in the pages that follow, then, to
discern the economic universals in human society by sampling
the many forms in which they are manifest.

26 This is implicit in a discussion of economic behavior, he distin-

of the subject by Diesing (16-23), guishes, as one of these, "norms of

though the question of economic property, manners, or taste, which

relativism as regards the nature of appear to the individual in exem-

economic rationality is not taken up plary actions and the approval or

as such. Yet it should be noted that disapproval of other people."
in discussing the normative aspects

CHAPTER II

BEFORE THE MACHINE

THOUGH man has inhabited the earth for more than half a million
years, the invention of the steam engine, which introduced the
machine age, occurred less than two hundred years ago. In this
mere instant, as the life of the human race is counted, the ma-
chine has come to hold a place of such importance in present-
day America and Europe that it is not easy for us to imagine a
machineless existence.

Yet for much of mankind the machine holds little significance.
Even in America and in Europe, where the influence of a mech-
anized technology invades all phases of life, quiet backwaters
still exist where farming folk or village communities live lives
relatively little touched by the machine. More important are
the untold millions who today follow patterns of life almost
entirely different from those by which we order our lives and
who, in the Americas, the South Seas, Australia, Asia, and Africa
meet their needs without the use of any of those complex mechan-
ical aids we hold essential.

The term "primitive" has been applied to most of these folk.
Because with but few exceptions, they have developed no writ-
ten language, the word thus became synonymous with "non-
historic" or "nonliterate." These terms, however, are actually to
be preferred because they do not carry the connotations of in-
feriority, simplicity, and lack of sophistication that have come to
cluster about the word "primitive," and thus to obscure its mean-
ing. Such large differences are, indeed, to be found among non-
literate societies that to characterize them in any general manner
is exceedingly difficult. Every institution shows a tremendously
wide range of variation in its "primitive" manifestations. It has

26 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

therefore become a truism that there is no generic difference be-
tween "primitive" societies and literate ones, but that, the world
over, all cultures represent specialized local developments which
have come into being as a result of the unique historical devel-
opments that, as was pointed out in the preceding chapter, mark
the past of each of them.

This being the case, we may find it worth while to sketch the
characteristics of the nonliterate societies that justify us in mark-
ing them off for special study. We will, in particular, consider
those traits that will occupy us in contrasting and comparing
their economics with those of the literate, machine cultures.

At the outset, we are struck by the differences in population
size between "primitive" and literate groups. This is true not
only where density is concerned, but in the numbers of those
who make up the self-conscious social entities which we vari-
ously designate as "band" or "tribe" or "kingdom." Another
difference between nonliterate and literate folk lies in the re-
spective degree of contact they have with the outside world. In
supplying their wants, what the nonliterate tribesman could ob-
tain "was usually near at hand," as it has been put. On the other
hand, "the whole world . . . contributes to our needs. A compli-
cated business organization makes this possible, one that stands
out in marked contrast to the simple system" of these folk. 1
Even in pre-machine days in Europe, or in the non-machine
but literate cultures of Asia, the range of communication and
the consequent breadth of horizon of these peoples were and
are in general greater than those of an African or a North Ameri-
can Indian tribe, or even, for all their voyaging, of the inhabit-
ants of the Polynesian islands. Literate societies, as we have seen,
also manifest a greater degree of specialization of labor, a greater
emphasis on the market and on a standard medium of exchange
money as an expression of value to facilitate market opera-
tions, and a resultant greater economic complexity than do non-
literate communities. 2

The machine, however, most highly developed in the cultures
of North America and Europe, has been the outstanding factor
in accentuating all those characteristics of an economic order
that have been mentioned as distinguishing the lives of literate
from nonliterate peoples. The implications of the machine for

1 Gras ( 1922), 3-4. * Cf. Bruijnis, 4 ff.

BEFORE THE MACHINE

human society are therefore greatest in these cultures, and it is
between these machine cultures and all others, especially the
nonliterate ones, that the differences are widest. That is why, at
the outset, the role of the machine must be emphasized as a
factor in differentiating their life from ours.

IN CONSIDERING the influence of the machine in our lives, we
must constantly bear in mind the effect the technological per-
fections that have gone with its development, the greater degree
of productivity these have permitted, and the changes they have
wrought in the economic sphere have had on some of the more
important currents of thought of our day. Especially important
is the fact that the achievements of the machine are objectively
demonstrable, from which it follows that technological and eco-
nomic gains can most readily be used when evaluating different
cultures. The mechanistic philosophy of our day, when raised in
the field of method to a tradition of objective observation, is
readily contrasted with the mystical elements in the technology
and economic order of nonliterate societies.

This is one of the principal reasons why the identification of
the word "primitive" with the concept "lower" as regards social
development or its converse, the use of "civilized" in the sense
of something "higher" has been so convincing and, as expressed
in the term "progress," has come to lodge so deeply in our every-
day manner of thought. Here is the apparent documentation of
the cthnocontrism that makes the appreciation of the values of
other cultures than our own so difficult. Descriptions of our tech-
nological achievement and the multiple interrelations of our eco-
nomic organization can seemingly be employed to demonstrate
the more complex nature of our culture as compared with the
cultures of all other peoples, especially of nonliterate folk. That
such a demonstration has had so great an appeal and has been so
difficult to dislodge from the popular mind is not strange. It was
such an assumption that gave the attempts to establish an evolu-
tionary sequence for human civilizations their greatest psycho-
logical force. For from this point of view but this point of view
only the Australians could be regarded beyond question as a

28 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

simpler people than the Africans; or the Africans could be de-
monstrably shown to be on a lower level of culture than the great
aggregates that peopled Central America, Mexico, and Peru at
the time of the discovery of America; or these latter, in turn,
could without fear of contradiction be held less highly developed
than ourselves.

In the same way, the concept of progress, so deeply rooted in
our habits of thought, has derived its most important sanctions
from demonstrations in the field of technology and economics.
That a man, working with a machine, can produce more in given
units of time with a given expenditure of energy than when work-
ing by hand, is not difficult to prove. It is not so easy, however,
to show that one set of religious beliefs is more adequate than
another, or one type of family organization more effective than
the next. Here the validation of judgment must derive from as-
sumptions that lie quite outside objective proof. Even in the eco-
nomic and technological spheres the argument couched in terms
of relative powers of productivity is by no means self-evident
when the ultimate ends toward which such activities are directed
as against the values that guide day-to-day living come to be
analyzed. In all societies, that is, the technological and economic
order must at least be efficient enough to permit survival. Grant-
ing this, we know enough about the psychology of culture to
understand that the satisfaction of human wants is by no means
dependent upon an abundance of goods. Increased efficiency in
production is likewise not necessarily accompanied by a corre-
sponding efficiency in achieving an effective distribution of what
the technological system is capable of producing.

It is not alone in evaluating societies as a whole that the ma-
chine has shaped our thought. Certain concepts respecting the
psychology of nonliterate peoples have been influenced by that
phase of our culture which is to be broadly included under the
term "science." The scientific tradition, and the nature of the
problems with which scientists deal, require that every effort be
made to reason from cause to effect, to work under conditions of
rigid control, eliminating extraneous factors that might influence
the result of any given experiment. It is not generally understood,
however, that this technique, which marks scientific thinking, is
by no means characteristic of the reasoning of most persons in
our society, nor even of scientists in their everyday life. Yet de-

BEFORE THE MACHINE 2Q

spite this, these particular modes of thought have given rise to a
concept which maintains that our ways of thinking differ from
those of "primitive" peoples, who are held to be prelogical. 8 With-
out a tradition of reasoning from cause to effect, they are held to
be enmeshed in a body of "collective representations," in which
the mechanical relationship between effectuating forces and their
objective results is lost in a maze of mystic associations. Life is
thus lived in a world where reality, as we know it, constitutes
but a portion of valid experience.

We need here do no more than enter a demurrer to this posi-
tion, for many refutations of it have been written out of the first-
hand experience of those who have studied nonliterate societies, 4
The significant thing for us is to realize how a mode of thought,
closely associated with the basic technological processes of our
culture, can be rationalized as a habit of thinking presumably
followed by all those who live in this machine society, as against
the habits of all who do not.

Another instance of how pervasive the indirect influence of the
machine has been may be introduced here, though some of its
implications for our subject will be treated at length in later
pages. 5 This concerns the theory of economic determinism. The
increased productivity of our technology and the accompanying
complexity of economic organization has resulted in a correspond-
ing increase in the interdependence of individuals and communi-
ties. But it was just when the industrial revolution was at its
height, and the economic problems presented by it had attained
an order of difficulty perhaps never before experienced, that this
theory in its present form, was developed. It seems, therefore,
that there might well be a discernible relationship between a
point of view that holds economic phenomena to be basic in
shaping other aspects of life and the historical setting of the period
during which this concept was developed.

There can be little doubt that economic factors do play an
important role in influencing non-economic aspects of culture;
but this merely recognizes the fact that all phases of life are
closely interrelated and, because of this, tend to modify each

. 8 L. LeVy-Bruhl (1923), is the point of view is still widely held by

work which has most influenced many writers who are not anthro-

thought along these lines. Though pologists.

its author, before his death, greatly 4 Driberg (1929), passim.

modified his original position, the 5 See below, 488-96.

gO ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

other. In these terms, ours is by no means the only culture where
economic factors are preponderant in influencing the other facets
of culture. Yet it does remain an historic fact that it was only
among a people ourselves whose economy had become more
complex than any before experienced by man, and at a time when
the problems presented by the economic order were becoming
most serious, that this theory made its appearance.

We must, then, be on our guard against a position that fails
to take due account of modes of life other than our own, or which
disregards directive forces other than those that to us appear to
be of the first magnitude. Above all, we must guard against think-
ing of all the cultures of nonliterate peoples as one undifferen-
tiated mass, to be contrasted with our own particular body of
traditions. These reservations must be kept in mind in recogniz-
ing that the machine has made it possible for us to live in an
order of society which, in its economic aspects, is to be set apart
from all others because of its complexity. Only with these reser-
vations can we achieve a workable basis for the analysis of the
problems to be considered in this book. We may, therefore, in
these terms, proceed to sketch the more outstanding of these
distinctions. For though, in most instances, they will be found
to comprise differences of degree rather than of kind, we must
analyze them so that we will not lose sight of them as we later
describe and seek to understand the economic processes em-
ployed by nonliterate communities.

THE RELATIONSHIP between the machine technology and the
pecuniary organization of our economy has by no means been
made clear. Yet it is apparent that this relationship has given rise
to certain special kinds of economic phenomena, such as the busi-
ness cycle, and the periodic unemployment that has followed on
technological advances. These phenomena are the direct result
of the increased productivity of the machine, coupled with a sys-
tem whereby the sale of goods for profit as a technique for amass-
ing wealth has become an end rather than a means in life. This
entire complex operates so as to deprive many persons of an op-

BEFORE THE MACHINE gl

portunity to obtain the basic necessities of living, no matter how
willing they may be to work or how able.

Such conditions are unknown to nonliterate man. These smaller
groups may live on a level but little removed from subsistence
needs, where the margin between starvation and survival is slight.
Yet even in such societies, the individual who, as an individual,
is reduced to such straits that he must either depend on some
agency set up for the purpose of preventing his giving way be-
fore the harsh dicta of the economic system, or starve, is rarely,
if ever, encountered. In societies existing on the subsistence mar-
gin, rather, it is generally the rule that when there is not enough,
all hunger alike; when there is plenty, all participate.

This does not mean that in cultures where the margin of avail-
able goods is greater than in those existing on such a low eco-
nomic plane, an equal distribution of available resources exists.
Practically all societies where life is lived on more than a sub-
sistence level know the concepts of rich and poor, of leader and
follower. But even in societies with relatively complex econo-
mies, such as those of West Africa and Melanesia, where buying
to sell at a profit is of some importance and the hiring of labor
is not unknown, the phenomena of the business cycle, of techno-
logical unemployment, and of malnutrition resulting from- an in-
ability to obtain the necessities of life are not found. Thus, for
example, clan solidarity among the East African Baganda assured
that "real poverty did not exist"; furthermore, "no one ever went
hungry . . . because everyone was welcome to go and sit down
and share a meal with his equals." 6 Again, the labor market,
though by no means entirely absent among nonliterate groups,
never attains a place comparable to that which it holds in our
own economic order.

Among nonliterate folk we encounter conditions in many re-
spects analogous to the economic system of the Middle Ages and
before. As in pre-machine-age Europe, the laborer is almost in-
variably the owner of the means of production and to that ex-
tent is the master of his own economic destiny. That is, capital-
ism, as we have come to know it since the advent of power
machinery, is foreign to non-machine economies. Capital goods
may be concentrated in the hands of individual members of cer-

6 Roscoe, 12.

32 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

tain communities of this type, but this merely signifies that the
difference between these systems and our machine economy is
one of degree rather than of kind. In nonliterate societies, we do
find men who control the labor of others, whether completely, as
under the institution of slavery, or for limited periods of time,
under forms of employment for wages. We can even encounter,
in Samoa, something akin to an organized body of workers who
do not hesitate to interrupt their labor where this is necessary
to enforce their demands, or even to indulge in sabotage. But the
demands to be enforced are demands of prestige and not of live-
lihood, for among these workers there is no one to whom the re-
turn for his labor is essential to his existence. 7

Another outstanding difference between machine and non-
machine cultures is found in their degree of specialization. In
the latter, as has been noted, almost every person controls all
the techniques essential for his own support and for the support
of those dependent upon him. Even the man who excels in build-
ing a canoe, or hunting game, or weaving, or iron-working will,
with the aid of members of his family, also carry on agriculture
or tend the herds, and he can, when necessary, build a house and
fashion household utensils, or make the clothing that habitat and
tradition dictate as necessities. Similarly, though some women
may be better potters than others, or may excel in basketry or in
some other occupation, yet all women will know how to do the
household tasks and other kinds of work that are allotted to
women under the prevalent patterns of labor. Conversely, it is
rare, even where individuals surpass in certain skills, that these
skills are restricted to them alone.

Thus, among the Ifugao of the Philippines,

Division of labor is not carried further than a mere begin-
ning. Some men are highly skilled blacksmiths. Nearly all
know something about blacksmithing. Some are highly skilled
wood carvers, but nearly all are wood carvers for all that.
Almost the only division of labor is between men and
women. 8

In Samoa,

The division of labor which is of importance to the mere
physical well being of the people is the division of labor
7 Hiroa (1930), 414-16. 8 Barton (1922), 423.

BEFORE THE MACHINE 33

along sex lines. Every man knows how to build a small
house, how to hew out a rough canoe, how to make a coco-
nut cup, or carve a rough food bowl. The carpenters and
makers of sennit lashings are essentially specialists, called in
for important occasions. But upon the balance of men and
women workers within the household, and upon their skill
in the usual tasks in which every adult is supposed to be pro-
ficient, depends the prosperity of the household. 9

Among the Hopi of Arizona,

Common wants and desires, fairly standardized, simple and
easily satisfied, require no diverse specialization to satisfy
them. ... It is evident that division of labor is primarily
conventional, based on sex secondarily and more indefinitely
on age. 10

In Haiti,

The life of the Haitian farmer, though hard, is simple and
self-contained. With but few exceptions, he supplies all his
necessities, for he commands almost the entire range of tech-
niques known to his culture; hence Haitian economy shows
a lack of specialization that in the main is only relieved by
the sex division of labor. 11

The Maori, we learn, employed

... no very intricate division of labour, such as occurs in
the highly complex social structure of the 'civilized' com-
munity. The fairly simple character of economic wants did
not necessitate any great diversity of occupations to satisfy
them, and every man was able to master something more
than the rudiments of the principal crafts. Entire absorption
of the working powers of the individual in one industry, or
in a single process of an industry, was rare, if not unknown.
At the same time division of labour on a limited scale, both
as regards separation of employments and of processes, was
not absent. 12

Or, in Dahomey, a non-machine economy outstanding for its
complexity, and where craft specialization is marked, "no mat-
9 Mead (1930a), 66. ll Herskovits (1937), 67.

10 Beaglehole (1937), 18. Raymond Firth (1929), 193-4.

34 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

ter what the rank of a Dahomean or what his trade, he must
know how to cultivate the soil, and he will have his fields." 18

We must recognize that all men and women in non-machine
societies can control the techniques essential for obtaining a
living, and, where there are specialized crafts, that the crafts-
men are never dependent for their livelihood solely upon what
they produce. These are sufficiently striking differences between
nonliterate economies and our own. Even more striking, how-
ever, are the implications of the fact that among nonliterate peo-
ples the extreme forms of specialization known to us, where the
worker must restrict his activities to minor operations in the
entire production process, is but rarely encountered. Specializa-
tion within one industry does occur in non-machine societies, as
where an individual will be expert at making one special part of
a canoe. But, again, almost without exception, such a worker is
found to be a full-fledged member of a larger co-operative work
group, and psychologically has no difficulty in identifying himself
with the finished product.

The subject of industrial psychology is important in making
effective the human resources needed for the kind of mass pro-
duction that has been developed in our society, since the degree
of specialization characteristic of the organization of our larger
industries has given rise to serious problems of individual ad-
justment. A man who for hours on end tightens a bolt on the en-
gine of an automobile which he will probably never see, and with
which he can in no way identify himself, or who, in a packing
house, makes the same cut on each of an endless procession of
carcasses as they pass before him, is deprived of something that
is deeply rooted in the human psyche.

It is not necessary to do more than indicate this to cause us
to see why questions of this sort have been found so urgent a
subject for study. Veblen put it as follows:

The share of the operative workman in the machine industry
is ( typically ) that of an attendant, an assistant, whose duty is
to keep pace with the machine process and to help out with
workmanlike manipulation at points where the machine en-
gaged is incomplete. His work supplements the machine
process, rather than makes use of it. On the contrary the
machine process makes use of the workman. 14
13 Herskovits (1932), 266. 14 Veblen (1918), 306-07.

BEFORE THE MACHINE 35

In the unconscious processes of identification an infinite satis-
faction is achieved if, at the end of a day or a week or a year, a
worker can point to something of which he may be proud, of
which he is the maker or in the making of which he has partici-
pated, and in which he retains a sense of creativeness. But this
is precisely what cannot be achieved by the majority of those
employed in the specialized occupations of an industrial society.
Sapir, in developing his idea of "what kind of a good thing
culture is," felt that this factor of specialization was so impor-
tant that it could be used as a criterion to divide cultures into
those which are "genuine" and those which are "spurious":

The great cultural fallacy of industrialism, as developed up
to the present time, is that in harnessing machines to our
uses it has not known how to avoid the harnessing of the
majority of mankind to its machines. The telephone girl who
lends her capacities, during the greater part of the living
day, to the manipulation of a technical routine that has an
eventually high efficiency value but that answers to no spir-
itual needs of her own is an appalling sacrifice to civiliza-
tion. . . . The American Indian who solves the economic
problem with salmon-spear and rabbit-snare operates on a
relatively low level. . . , but he represents an incompara-
bly higher solution than our telephone girl of the questions
that culture has to ask of economics. 15

We need not set up a system of comparative values in modes
of living, however, to recognize that in terms of achieving a
rounded life, the patterns of production in non-machine socie-
ties afford far more satisfactions to one engaged in the industrial
process than in a machine society. No more apt illustration of
this point could be had than in the following description of the
manner of work of the Andamanese and of the drives that under-
lie their efforts:

In the manufacture of their weapons, utensils, and other
articles, they . . . spend . . . hour after hour in laboriously
striking pieces of iron with a stone hammer for the purpose
of forming spear or arrowheads, or in improving the shape
of a bow, etc., even though there be no necessity, immediate
15 Sapir, 308, 316.

36 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

or prospective, to stimulate them to such efforts. The incen-
tive is evidently a spirit of emulation, each one priding him-
self on being able to produce work which will excel, or at
least compare not unfavourably with, that of his neigh-
bors. 10

This may likewise be seen in the choices of occupation made
by certain native peoples who are in contact with the world
economic system. Thus, of the Malay fishermen of Kelantan, it
is stated:

Popular opinion is apt to regard the Malay, in contrast to
the Indian and Chinese who share his native land, as lazy,
improvident, and lacking in foresight or ability to work hard
and to save. . . . Because a Malay refuses to do long and
monotonous work on rubber plantations away from his fam-
ily, under conditions which Chinese and Indians willingly
accept for the sake of the wages, it is assumed that he is
lazy. No one who has seen the long, often cold, exhausting
and disappointing labour of fishermen on the east coast
would doubt that the Malay is capable of sustained, skilful
and energetic labour. But he needs to have interest in his
work, a factor which modern industrial organization has
subjugated to the desire for a higher standard of living. 17

Certainly the resources an individual in a non-machine so-
ciety brings to his task must be greater and more varied, in terms
of productive activity, than when he carries on the intense spe-
cialization demanded of him in a machine technology. What in
the field of art has been termed the drive toward virtuosity can
be given full play where every step in a process is in the hands
of the producer, from the gathering of the raw materials to the
finished product that may be admired by the worker's fellows.

Yet another distinction between machine and non-machine
societies lies in the development of the tradition of business en-
terprise, as we know it. As will be shown in later pages, practi-
cally no present-day human group is entirely self-supporting, and
there is good reason to believe that trade existed in quite early
prehistoric times. Where tribal specialization has followed on
the localization of natural resources, the needs of a people for

10 Man, 26. 17 Rosemary Firth, 113.

BEFORE THE MACHINE 37

those goods they cannot produce because of a lack of essential
raw materials cause them to trade for what tbey desire, and much
of their own productive activity is devoted to the making of
their own specialty for this same market. A comparable phenom-
enon is found within certain tribal economies, as where the mak-
ers of iron objects, to the degree that they devote their time to
this work, must exchange their products for such food, utensils,
or non-utilitarian objects as they need or desire if they are to
have them. In a number of nonliterate societies where trading is
a recognized occupation, and where, as in West Africa, trade is
carried on by the use of money rather than by barter, buying in
order to sell at a profit, or manufacture of goods primarily for
disposal in the market, is well known. We shall also encounter
cultures in Melanesia, in East Africa, and in North and South
America where the trader as middleman plays an important part
in the circulation of commodities from tribe to tribe. But the role
which these aspects of trade play in the economic life of such
peoples does not have an importance comparable in any way to
that held by business in our own economy.

Though in non-industrial societies sparring between traders
for advantage does, of course, mark their operations, sometimes
even this seems to be absent where values in terms of goods ex-
changed by direct barter are fixed by traditional usage. Nonethe-
less, among nonliterate groups the conduct of business transac-
tions has nothing of the impersonal quality that has come to be
an outstanding characteristic of our economic system. It is well
known that where a non-European has to deal with a European
in a matter involving trade, both parties to the transaction are
often subject to no little irritation because of differing traditions
of trading. Among many who live in non-machine societies, spar-
ring for advantage in the exchange of goods is something of a
pleasurable contest of wits.

Nonliterate societies also differ from our own in the relative
stress they lay on pecuniary standards of evaluation. Among our-
selves, these standards assume such importance that values in
terms of money not only dictate our economic judgments, but
tend to invade evaluations of all other phases of our culture as
well. This has brought it about that money, by and of itself, has
come to have a place quite aside from its function as the least
common denominator of the market-place. As a matter of fact,

38 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

it is not easy for us to think of ends that are not expressed as
monetary values, even though they concern art or religion or
family relations. That we use phrases such as "to have a heart of
gold/' or to "give a gilt-edged promise," means only that our lin-
guistic usage, like that of all peoples, reflects our standard of
values not as this standard may operate in an economic sense,
but as the phrase is applied to moral and personal judgments of
the broadest sort.

Now this kind of evaluation is a rarity in nonliterate societies.
It is found, notably in Melanesia and in northwestern North
America, where outward emblems of wealth are psychologically
as important as among ourselves. Yet, in general, there are many
more of these groupings where goods, to say nothing of people,
are not to be bought at a price, than where the opposite is true.
Many instances have been recorded where objects desired by a
purchaser have been refused him in the face of fabulous offers
fabulous, that is, in terms of the values set by the people among
whom the owner of the desired object lived. It is more revealing
of our own psychology than that of those against whom the
charge of economic irresponsibility has been laid that the basis
of this charge, so often repeated in the accounts of contacts be-
tween natives and Europeans, is that these peoples are prone to
accept trifles, such as beads, in recompense for objects which we
hold to have the highest value, such as golden ornaments or pre-
cious stones, In reality, this merely means that in such cases the
standards of value brought into play differ from our own.

One of the most widely spread traits of human beings, mani-
fest under the most diverse types of social order, is the desire for
prestige. As we shall see, there is an intimate relationship be-
tween prestige and the control of economic resources in most
societies living above a subsistence level. The degree to which
those who live under the regime of the machine are dependent
upon others for almost every necessity of life, whether material
or psychological, and the extent to which it has become neces-
sary to translate experience into terms of those monetary units on
which we are so dependent for the goods and services we find
essential or desirable, demonstrate the economic consequence of
extreme specialization. Here we see money assuming an impor-
tance out of all proportion to its manifestation in other cultures
or at other times.

BEFORE THE MACHINE 39

It is a commonplace that Europe of the Middle Ages stressed
other-worldliness in evaluating its satisfactions and directives.
This, however, is merely one way of recalling to ourselves that
prestige and the resultant power associated with it can and, in
most societies, is to be gained through excellence in other fields
than the accumulation of wealth, that the rewards for outstand-
ing accomplishment can be conceived in terms other than those
of money.

All caution must understandably be exercised in making state-
ments such as these. In some nonliterate groups, especially where
a money economy prevails, motivations quite similar to those
found in any community living under a machine technology are
not lacking. On the other hand, we must not forget that many
persons in our culture are not dominated by the pecuniary ideal
to anything like the extent of the majority. However, granting
the existence of exceptions both in nonliterate societies and our
own, the broad differences in the patterned attitudes toward
money in machine and non-machine cultures must be recognized.

A FINAL distinction between machine and non-machine societies
has to do with the utilization of economic resources for the sup-
port of non-subsistence activities. Because of greater powers of
production, the goods available under a machine technology to
release man-power from direct concern with the tasks of pro-
ducing the necessities of life are more numerous among ourselves
than in any other society. The conversion of these resources into
what is to be termed social leisure is of the highest importance
for the understanding of many aspects of the organization of hu-
man societies, wherever they are found and whatever their com-
plexity. As such, this point will be given extended treatment in a
later chapter. 1 * Here we will consider only that phase of the de-
velopment of a mechanistic approach to life that accompanied
the advent and growth of a machine technology, which finds its
most characteristic expression in the scientific tradition.

From the beginning of the industrial revolution, the amount of
economic resources devoted to the support of the scientific in-

18 Sec below, 395-415.

4O ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

vestigation of the world in which we live has become ever larger.
This in turn has so helped to increase the efficiency of the proc-
esses of production that much more consumption and capital
goods have been available than ever before. But the relationship
is a reciprocal one, which has released an ever increasing meas-
ure of social leisure; and this, in turn, has permitted the investi-
gation of a constantly wider range of problems.

Science, of course, did not begin with the machine age, as is
apparent when we consider the history of physics and mathe-
matics. Medicine, one of the scientific disciplines that has most
flowered in our culture, also has a history that long antedates the
coming of the machine. Those whose task it is to care for human
life and assuage human suffering, whether as practitioners of
scientific medicine or as magic healers, are in all societies held
to be worthy of support out of the subsistence goods produced
by those who are always potentially, at least, in need of them. As
regards science in general, however, since there was more to con-
sume, more social leisure has been available since the advent of
the machine age to release scientists for the pursuit of their in-
vestigations. The increased efficiency of the productive processes
that have resulted from the application of discoveries in the fields
of the exact and mechanical sciences to industry is striking. In
such matters as housing and all its related conveniences, or quan-
tity and variety of foods, or aids to health and the prolongation
of the life-span, or the wider recreational facilities and opportuni-
ties for a broader outlook on the world, the resources of machine
societies are not to be compared with those where the technology
does not permit an equivalent production of material goods.

There is no intention to suggest in what has just been set forth
that the machine technology, by and of itself, causes the societies
in which it develops to live under optimum conditions, any more
than there is of indicating that the societies in which man lived
or lives in what is sometimes termed a state of nature in non-
machine cultures, that is represent a golden age.

What is meant is that the more admirable developments of sci-
ence and the multiplication of resources, like those less desirable
aspects of life under this same order of society, are concomitants
of the machine as against other technologies. In non-machine cul-
tures, life, though lived at a slower pace, must be lived with far
more constant regard for the demands of the natural environ-

BEFORE THE MACHINE 41

ment, and often in actual fear of not surviving. That is perhaps
why the most convincing exposition of the values of our culture
to native peoples is on the technological and scientific level; and
this is also why we are so prone to insist that our way of life is
the best.

One further point must be clarified before we proceed to an
exposition of the data descriptive of the economic aspects of non-
literate societies with which we shall deal in succeeding chapters.
The division of labor in the intellectual field has brought it about
that students who investigate nonliterate cultures have had but
little contact with those whose special concern is with the eco-
nomic aspects of life; while those who study our economic or-
ganization have been so occupied with the problems of our com-
plex industrial order that they do not customarily turn to other
cultures for relevant materials against which to project their gen-
eralizations. For the problems with which we are concerned in
this book, the implications of the fact that there is no established
discipline of the kind envisaged by Gras under the term "eco-
nomic anthropology" 1H is crucial. Hence, in probing these im-
plications, we shall profit by a clearer view of the usefulness of
the materials with which we shall be dealing.

lu Gras (1927), 10.

CHAPTER III

ANTHROPOLOGY AMD
ECONOMICS

To UNDERSTAND why anthropology and economics have not had
more contact, we must first of all consider the materials with
which each primarily deals. Economics derives its data not only
from our own culture, but, except for economic history, from this
culture as it exists today. 1 Anthropology, on the other hand, rang-
ing the peoples of the nonliterate world, presents materials hav-
ing to do with all phases of social activity in civilizations of all
kinds. As concerns the economic life of these folk, it is under-
standable that such data are not easily assimilated to traditions of
procedure based on the intensive study of the economic patterns
of only one culture. Yet, as we have said, the general outline of
all human civilizations is the same. If we recognize that a differ-
ence of degree rather than of kind exists between most of our
economic institutions and those of other peoples, the unity of the
data concerned with the problem of economizing must be ap-
parent.

Economists and anthropologists have drawn but little on the
work of each other for still further reasons. One of them arises
out of the historical circumstances under which the social sci-
ences developed. Another derives from the psychology of those
who participated in this development. Finally, purely practical
considerations, which have figured in shaping the division of
labor between the disciplines concerned with various aspects of
the study of human societies, have entered. Of these, the psycho-
logical and practical reasons are the more fundamental. They

*. Gras (1927), 11-12.

ANTHROPOLOGY AND ECONOMICS 43

account for the historic fact that, in studying man, we have un-
derstandably tended to attack those problems lying about us
which, pressing for solution, are more obvious and, from a prac-
tical standpoint, far more accessible than those which are to be
studied in the far corners of the earth. 2

With the expansion of Europe in the sixteenth to nineteenth
centuries, contacts were increasingly had with native peoples as
a result of slaving and merchandising operations, missionary ac-
tivities, and the growing policy of colonization on the part of
European nations. The writings descriptive of the tribal cultures
with whom contact was thus established eventually claimed the
attention of those interested in the nature, the mechanisms, and
the development of human civilization. It is not necessary here to
trace the growth of this interest into scientific anthropology. It
need only be pointed out that, though it became essential for the
student of nonliterate societies to treat of all phases of life in
describing the civilizations with which he was concerned, in one
respect his work became as highly specialized as that of any
other scientist. This specialization lay in the method he devel-
oped for amassing and interpreting these varied data.

This matter of method very largely resolves itself into a tech-
nique that enables the student to recognize, isolate, and analyze
modes of thought and behavior taken for granted when the in-
stitutions of one's own society are studied. The student who ana-
lyzes his own economic order, his own political life, his own
family organization, his own art, or his own literature is so prone
to accept as given the cultural matrix in which are lodged his
data that he feels no need to subject this setting to any consid-
erable analysis. This can be a handicap, especially when general-
izations having cross-cultural validity must be drawn; but it is
also a short-cut for those who study any phase of their own cul-
ture. Lacking this short-cut, the student of nonliterate societies
must, however, before anything else establish the nature and the
underlying sanctions of the institutions in the groups he studies.
It is this fact that, presenting anthropologists with their greatest
challenge, forced them to develop as specialists in method. 3

2 "Apart from mediaeval theo- Bonn (1931), 333.
ries, the more important modern 3 A vivid summary of the meth-

economic theories have developed odological problems presented in

out of violent discussions of the the study of land tenure and the

merits of rival economic policies." use of land in a specific nonliterate

44 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Because of their methods, anthropologists have been able to
provide us with an impressive body of accounts setting forth the
behavior, traditions, and customary attitudes of peoples whose
cultures differ strikingly not only from our own but also, in vary-
ing degrees, from each other. It is understandably impossible for
any field ethnologist, from whom our primary data concerning
these cultures must come, to be specialized in the study of all
those aspects of culture upon which he must touch in giving a
rounded description of the life lived by a specific group. Students
of economics, or politics, or art, or literature, or religion have de-
veloped theories that have the qualities of penetration and in-
sight that can only flow from long preoccupation with data
bearing on a restricted field. But those who have developed such
theories have found it difficult to grasp the possibilities of sub-
mitting the validity of their assumptions to the scientific test by
applying them to civilizations that are quite different from our
own in terms of their historic past, their environmental setting,
and their technological equipment.

When we understand, then, that the specialization of the an-
thropologist along methodological lines has enabled him to amass
data of value for those who restrict their attention to specific
fields of human activity in single cultures, we have taken an im-
portant step in establishing the basis for a greater degree of
mutual give-and-take between anthropologists and economists.
To this end, therefore, let us see wherein the results of special-
ization in the two fields have inhibited a useful degree of co-
operation between them. Let us also see what kinds of data are
available, and what must be made available, if the findings of
the anthropologists concerning the variation in economic proc-
esses and institutions that exist the world over are to be of use
to those whose techniques and problems have tended to confine
their investigations to the economic aspects of our own civi-
lization. 4

community, will be found in Fordo given, and it is not proposed to sug-

(1937), 30-1. For a general dis- gest any criticism of work by econ-

cussion of anthropological field omists in their own field. Certain

method, see Ilerskovits (1948), Ch. comments germane to the issues un-

6, "The Ethnographer's Labora- dcr consideration that have been

tory," 79-93. made by economists themselves

4 We shall take the data, mcth- may, however, be quoted at appro-

ods, and theory of economics as priate times.

ANTHROPOLOGY AND ECONOMICS 45

MOST of the earlier definitions given by economists of their field
of interest related the subject-matter of economics "to the study
of the causes of material welfare/' Because of this, perhaps, an-
thropologists have tended to overlook how deeply the modern
approach to the subject is concerned with the matter of choice,
the "relationship between ends and scarce means which have
alternative uses," s that has formed the basis of our discussion of
the process of economizing in the first chapter of this book. As
was pointed out there, this involves a universal process in human
society of maximizing satisfactions. This process varies with the
degree of productivity and canons that traditionally dictate
desirability according to available goods or available time. Here
we must return to the fact that the data on which economic
theorists have based their definitions and principles pertain to
a single culture, our own. This means that, from the point of view
of the comparative study of culture, the "laws" derived from
these data are the equivalent of a statistical average based on a
single case.

This has been increasingly realized by economists, who have
phrased the matter in various ways. Thus Papandreou takes the
following position: "It is not sufficient to postulate the rational
norm. We must further make commitment to value-systems
which are 'ideally typical' in the culture under analysis." As he
puts it: "The very attempt of economic analysis to build a theory
of universal validity, to avoid any and all psychological and so-
ciological commitments takes it into the path of operational
ineaninglessness. The only way out of the impasse, the only way
for arriving at an empirically relevant science is to make these
commitments. This would reduce the universality of the proposi-
tion, but at the same time it would increase their range of mean-
ingfulness." In short, "we should extricate ourselves from the
shackles of economic univcrsalism and experiment with less gen-
eral but often more useful construction." G

We may begin our discussion of the implications for the an-
thropologist of the cultural particularism that has marked eco-
nomics by turning to the definition of the subject given by Alfred

Bobbins, 4, 16. Papandreou, 721^3.

46 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Marshall, which its author has restated in several ways. First of
all, it is expressed in the following familiar terms: "Political
Economy or Economics is a study of mankind in the ordinary
business of life; it examines that part of individual and social
action which is most closely connected with the attainment and
with the use of material requisites of well-being." Some pages
later we read: "Economics is a study of men as they live and
move and think in the ordinary business of life. But it concerns
itself chiefly with those motives which affect, most powerfully
and most steadily, man's conduct in the business of life." These
definitions, it is evident, are broad enough so that they easily
include the economic organization of any society.

As we go farther into Marshall's book, however, we find that
the promise of breadth in these definitions is by no means real-
ized. It soon becomes apparent that this "ordinary business of
life" is essentially a discussion of the phenomenon of price and
its ramifications into the activities of the market as these concern
the motivations behind the production, distribution, and ex-
change of goods and services. In other words, Marshall is con-
cerned, in everything but his definition, with just those aspects
of our economic system that are seldom encountered in other
societies. We are told, for example, that the contribution of eco-
nomic science to an understanding of the economic aspects of
social life derives its special value from the precision it can at-
tain in analyzing its data: "The problems, which are grouped as
economic, because they relate especially to man's conduct under
the influence of motives that are measurable by a money price,
are found to make a fairly homogeneous group." Or, again: "Eco-
nomic laws, or statements of economic tendencies, are those so-
cial laws which relate to branches of conduct in which the
strength of the motives chiefly concerned can be measured by a
money price." 7

This tradition of economic analysis which studies economic
motivation, economic processes, and economic institutions by
measuring them in terms of price phenomena has continued to
dominate economic thinking, whatever theoretical point of view
may be held. Almost any work in the field of economic theory
may be cited to make the point.

7 Marshall, 2, 14, 27, 33; see also which the economist addresses him-
the series of "chief questions to sell," pp. 40-1.

ANTHROPOLOGY AND ECONOMICS 47

J. M. Keynes, for example, considers the elements to be taken
as given, the independent and dependent variables in what, sig-
nificantly for the point under consideration here, he calls "the"
economic system.

We take as given the existing skill and quantity of available
labour, the existing quality and quantity of available equip-
ment, the existing technique, the degree of competition, the
tastes and habits of the consumer, the disutility of different
intensities of labour and of the activities of supervision and
organization, as well as the social structure, other than our
variables set forth below, which determine the distribution
of the national income.

Most of these "given" elements can, obviously, be determined for
any economy, pecuniary or not, given adequate research oppor-
tunities and reasonable flexibility of interpretation of the terms
employed to name them. However, this is not so apparent when
we consider his further stipulations, where he says: "Our inde-
pendent variables are, in the first instance, the propensity to
consume, the schedule of the marginal efficiency of capital and
rate of interest. . . . Our dependent variables are the volume of
employment and the national income (or national dividend)
measured in wage-units." 8

Yet how are these variables to be studied in economies where
the price-system is absent, where entrepreneurs exist only by
definition, and where employment and unemployment are sea-
sonal, regulated by social tradition and not the result of com-
petition for work in the labor market? The difficulties in this may
be seen from the attempt that has been made to arrive at the
"economic balance" of the Nupe culture of West Africa. Despite
the fact that these people have, and for many generations have
had, a pecuniary economy, the results yield little more than a
series of family budgets showing income and outgo, and a sense
of the power of prestige motivations as well as subsistence drives
in their economic system. 9 The comment of a student of another
nonliterate, nonpecuniary economy concerning the well-known
proposition of Keynes on saving can be cited here as relevant:
". . . his definition of 'saving* is framed in terms of the behav-
iour of individuals in a society with a price mechanism. Where

8 Keynes (1939), 245. Nadel (1942), 335-65.

48 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

there is no point of price equilibrium at which transactions can
take place, his terms cease to be applicable." 10

The concept of economic equilibrium, prominent in the writ-
ings of economists of various schools, can likewise be scrutinized
from the point of view of its applicability to economies other than
our own. There is no reason, of course, why the following three
sets of data, which we must know before we attack the problem
of equilibrium, cannot be studied in any society. These three sets
are "(1) the external obstacles to the production of want-satis-
faction, ( 2 ) the nature of the wants and resources of the organ-
isms concerned, and (3) the principle of equilibrium in this
case the maximization of utility, or of 'advantage.' " These, Bould-
ing tells us, lead to "ultimate determinants . . . the physical
laws of production, as expressed in the physical production func-
tions, and the psychological laws of behavior, as expressed in the
system of indifference curves." n Yet the type of closed eco-
nomic system he envisages as the "stationary state" or his condi-
tion of "dynamic equilibrium," while conceptually applicable to
the economies with which we are here concerned, are so de-
scribed in terms of interest, price, stock, and the operation of
firms that serious methodological problems arise in utilizing them
outside the economic systems of literate, industrialized societies
of Europe and America.

It is self-evident that any functioning economic system must,
in the broadest sense, be in a state of equilibrium. That is, the
total output of all kinds of economic goods and services, plus
whatever "savings" are made in the form of capitalization of
wealth, must equal its intake. 12 When this ceases to occur, as
where, in undeveloped areas, economic productivity is drained
off for the benefit of outside investors, without adequate return
being provided the producing native society, malfunctioning sets
in, with results that have been made well-known through the
many studies of this particular kind of situation.

But equilibrium economics is only by implication concerned

10 I

'Raymond Firth (1939), 23. Primitive" (72-84) is drawn. The

Firth's footnote at this point refers author here is essentially concerned

to Keynes, op. cit, 64, 220, 373. with establishing 1 ) the fact of pur-

11 Boulding, 767. posive activity among the Bantu and

12 It is in this sense of the term 2 ) that values derive from the allo-
that Goodfellow's chapter entitled cation of resources among different
"Equilibrium Economics and the wants.

ANTHROPOLOGY AND ECONOMICS 49

with the phenomenon of economic balance in this broad and
general sense. The problem of how value flows from fluctuations
in supply and demand, in its essentially mathematical character,
needs the quantitative index of value contained in price as mani-
fest in the market to permit its analysis. More than this, even in
a price economy, a whole range of assumptions is made before
the analysis is begun. Hicks, in explaining the workings of the
system of general equilibrium, may be cited here:

The laws of change of the price-system, like the laws of
change of individual demand, have to be derived from sta-
bility conditions. We first examine what conditions are nec-
essary in order that a given equilibrium system should be
stable; then we make an assumption of regularity, that po-
sitions in the neighbourhood of the equilibrium position will
be stable also; and thence we deduce rules about the way
in which the price-system will react to changes in tastes and
resources.

Again, given time and research opportunity, these are prob-
lems which, though difficult to study in non-pecuniary economies,
might be susceptible of attack. Yet it would obviously not be
possible even to accomplish this in terms of the clarification of
method given in the next paragraph:

In order that equilibrium should be stable, it is necessary
that a slight movement away from the equilibrium position
should set up forces tending to restore equilibrium. This
means that a rise in price above the equilibrium level must
set up forces tending to produce a fall in price; which im-
plies, under perfect competition, that a rise in price makes
supply greater than demand. The condition of stability is
that a rise in price makes supply greater than demand, a fall
in price demand greater than supply. 13

It is apparent that the situation envisaged in this approach
and in the discussions of economic statics and dynamics in de-
termining equilibrium that derive from it affords little place
for the analysis of economies not under the entrepreneurial sys-
tem, where a simple technology fixes the ceiling of productivity,
where demand is restricted, and where value, whether monetary

13 Hicks, 62.

50 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

or cast in terms of consumption commodities, is determined by
tradition and not by market fluctuations. The point at issue can-
not be better made than by citing a comment by Schurnpeter on
the Keynesian approach: "What I admire most in these and other
conceptual arrangements of his is their adequacy; they fit his
purpose as a well-tailored coat fits the customer's body. Of
course, precisely because of this they possess but limited use-
fulness. ... A fruit knife is an excellent instrument for peeling
a pear. He who uses it in order to attack a steak has only himself
to blame for unsatisfactory results." u

This same restricted approach also characterizes the writings
of Karl Marx. Here we are again confronted with an intricate
economic analysis based almost entirely on data drawn from our
own society, dealing with problems that arise out of the complex
development of the special kind of economic system that has re-
sulted from the invention and development of the machine. Once
more, as in Marshall, the system we contemplate, in aspect after
aspect, is based on our own economy, as in the discussion of
money, which by definition is limited to gold and silver, and thus
precludes even the application of the term to any of the numer-
ous kinds of tokens that, as will be seen, are employed to express
value in nonliterate societies.

CERTAIN other economists, particularly Thorstein Veblen, gave
more consideration than either the neo-classical group or the
Marxians to economic problems susceptible of investigation in
non-machine, non-pecuniary societies. But it may be noted in
passing that the problems that have claimed the interest of those
who have followed Veblen touch only lightly upon the matters
which are at the core of economic theory as this is ordinarily
expressed in the writings of most economists. And even Veblen's
followers, as their work has developed, have tended to restrict
their field of interest to matters that are specifically related to
our economic order. As an illustration of this we may cite the
work of C. Wesley Mitchell on the business cycle. For all its
brilliance of attack and the insight it yields on this particular
14 Schumpeter, 97.

ANTHROPOLOGY AND ECONOMICS 51

problem, these researches are but an intensive study of precisely
that phase of our economy that, more than any other, is absent
outside our own economic system.

Ayres, the neo-Veblenian who has perhaps most retained the
point of view of what may be termed classical institutionalism,
in theory, at least, continues in the tradition of recognizing the
usefulness of cross-cultural terms of reference. But the matter is
different in practice; one finds in his work a minimum of ethno-
graphic documentation to supplement the historical, psycholog-
ical, and philosophical arguments he employs in developing his
hypotheses. This is especially true, for instance, in his discussion
of the problems of price, of value, and of technology. Here the
appeal to the concepts and data of the single historical stream of
Euroamerican culture often makes his conclusions highly vul-
nerable from the point of view of cross-cultural analysis. 15

A more striking example of how neo-institutionalists fail to
take advantage of cross-cultural data is to be found in Gambs's
discussion of institutionalist economics. Like Ayres, though in a
more critical vein, he takes Veblen as his starting-point. But one
misses completely in his work those references to "the Poly-
nesian islanders," "the Andamans," "the Todas," and "the Pueblo
communities" which at the outset of Veblen's book establish the
pattern of his entire system and concern data that form the back-
ground against which his argument concerning certain aspects
of our own economy is implicitly projected. 16 Gambs seems not
unaware of the cross-disciplinary implications of economic sci-
ence, and the arguments from psychology he brings to bear on
the problems he considers are welcome contributions. But one
finds among the questions he has difficulty in answering some
that might prove to be considerably less formidable if cross-
cultural data were taken into account along with the psycholog-
ical and historical facts.

Thus we may consider the following passage:

The word "rational" has for so many centuries been associ-
ated with a false concept of the mind that we may properly
discard it as having no useful meaning. Until new concepts
arise to define economic behavior, we shall not advance far

lft Ayres (1944), passim, but cs- lrt Veblen (1915), Ch. I.

pecially Chs. II, IV, VI, and X.

52 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

if we speak of it as being either rational, irrational or some-
times the one and sometimes the other. 17

Yet the cultural definition of rationality, developed in our first
chapter, indicates that the problem of rational behavior, at-
tacked from a relativistic point of view, need not lead to the
counsel of despair that yields only a negative conclusion on such
an important point.

Gambs goes to the heart of the problem of institutional eco-
nomics, indeed, when he writes:

I would say that the under-development of institutional the-
ory results from . . . the extreme difficulty that even the
strongest human propensities have of transcending the Ge-
stalt in which they find themselves. In other words, the "in-
stinct of idle curiosity" though occasionally competent
enough and strong enough to escape from its environment,
is normally bound down by the institutions in which it op-
erates. 18

Here, however, we have nothing more than a statement of the
difficulties of the student, in the face of his own enculturative
experience, of extending his analysis beyond the bounds of that
experience. But an extension of that experience, first-hand or by
reference to the ethnographic literature, into the cultures of other
societies is not difficult, and would seem to provide the path
along which institutional economics granting its present state
as described can move so as to "transcend the Gestalt" in which
it finds itself. We only have to recall that there are many Gestalts,
each the result of the working out, in institutionalized form, of
universal processes operative in all cultures.

Whether the approach be through concern with the pecuniary
motivations that cause men to struggle for economic betterment,
or with market processes conceived in terms of supply and de-
mand as reflected in a price structure, whether it has to do with
the productivity of labor and its reward, or is concerned with
the description and analysis of our economic institutions, an an-
thropologist's reaction to all these approaches must be much the
same. He can only conclude that such problems are so couched

17 Gambs, 51. ls Ibid., pp. 87-8.

ANTHROPOLOGY AND ECONOMICS 53

in terms of a single body of tradition that their investigation
among nonliterate peoples can yield results only of the most gen-
eral kind; where, indeed, results gained from this approach can-
not be predicted in advance to be negative.

Some economists, as well as anthropologists, have reached this
conclusion. Thus, one unconventional critic redefines economics
as "a science of human behaviour in an exchange economy based
upon freedom of contract, and upon property-rights approxi-
mating to the type that is familiar in the Western Europe or
North America of our own time." The broadness of Marshall's
definition is commented on in much the same vein as has been
done above from an anthropologist's point of view, and it is
made clear how neither Marshall nor his followers have been
concerned with any but a small portion of the range of phenom-
ena implicit in it. Their work, it is pointed out, has consisted
either "of the formulation of a body of economic laws or propo-
sitions which relate strictly to market processes of one kind or
another," or "of a mass of 'realistic' or 'institutional studies' which
pass as economics ( if indeed they are permitted so to pass at all )
solely because the particular institutions or activities of which
they treat have had some special importance in determining the
concrete background in which at particular times or places, the
laws of the market have in fact operated." 19 The fact that the
attention of economists has been focused so exclusively on just
those aspects of our economy least likely to be found among non-
literate folk has thus confused anthropologists who turned to
economic treatises for clarification of problems and methods in
the study of the economic systems of nonliterate societies. 20

THE WRITINGS of the economists failed to attract the interest of
anthropologists for yet another reason. In no conventional trea-
tise on economic theory is "primitive" man depicted in a manner
either in harmony with the facts of nonliterate societies as known

10 Wootton, 129, 45. and anthropologists of the work of

20 For a discussion of the dcfi- each other in a special field, that of

ciencies that have resulted from a money, cf. Einzig, Ch. 2, 1&-25.

lack of knowledge by economists

54 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

to anthropologists, or in line with anthropological theory con-
cerning the nature of the interaction between man, his environ-
ment, and his traditions. In all justice, it must be pointed out that
since the early days of economic theory the economists, perhaps
discouraged by the immensity of the task of finding out for them-
selves what "primitive" life was actually like, left "primitive" man
severely alone. References to some hypothetical tribe living on
an island and using seashells for money have, indeed, survived,
at least in class discussions at one distinguished institution of
learning, where an equally hypothetical investigation is under-
taken to ascertain the effect of the sea-shell being a free good, so
to speak, on the value of the non-existent currency.

There are some instances, however, where students of eco-
nomic theory have not left nonliterate man severely alone. From
the anthropologist's point of view, the description of primitive
life by Biicher and his followers is an outstanding example of dis-
cussions falling in this category. These writers so misunderstood
even the most elementary facts of "primitive" cultures 21 that the
effect of their analyses on anthropologists was to excite derision,
where it did not have the more unfortunate result of inculcating
a conviction that any approach to the study of "primitive" eco-
nomic life from the point of view of economic theory is futile.
For to envisage "primitive" men as entirely individualistic and
non-social, marked by an animal-like striving for food, without
stability, foresight, or any concept of value, was to caricature
what even the anthropologist most innocent of any economic
training knew.

Now it is true that while Biicher decried any attempt to "ex-
emplify the primitive (i.e., the prehistoric or earliest) condition
of man by any definite people," he did maintain that "there is
more prospect of scientific results in an endeavour to collect the
common characteristics of human beings standing lowest in the
scale in order ... to arrive at a picture of the beginnings of
economic life and the formation of society." 22 But such an ap-
proach runs afoul of elementary anthropological method. An-

21 Even a cursory reading of the where among primitive peoples the
accounts of travelers available at children become independent very
the time would, for example, have early in youth and desert the so-
shown the untenability of such a ciety of their parents." Biicher, 37.
statement as the following: "Every- 22 Bucher, Cri. I.

ANTHROPOLOGY AND ECONOMICS 55

thropology has given over the search for "origins" since the time
it became recognized that, except as archaeological materials
can be dug out of the ground, the beginnings of any phase of
human activity cannot be scientifically established. Even if an-
thropologists ever did accept the proposition that generalized
portrayal of early life could be derived from abstracting the least
common denominator of all "primitive" cultures existing at pres-
ent, as was suggested by Biicher, they have long since rejected
any such idea. There has been sufficient refutation of Biicher
and those who have taken positions similar to his, 23 so there is
not need here to repeat these critiques. But writings falling in
this category must at least come in for formal recognition and
some consideration if we are to understand why anthropologists
have been prone to give but little weight to mention made of
"primitive" life by economists.

The concept of social evolution, which was developed in the
latter decades of the nineteenth century, 24 further beclouded the
thinking of economic theorists, though not of all economic his-
torians. Notable here is the criticism of Biicher drawn by Usher:
"Social history does not begin at the beginning of social life. . . .
Despite the brilliance of Bucher's work and the keenness of his
sense of historical development, evidence is constantly forced
upon our attention that he could not free himself from the dis-
position to describe the dawn of history as if it were the origin
of organized social life." ~ 5 It is quite possible, as has been done,
to trace the "evolution" of the industrial techniques of European
culture from the simplicity of its prehistoric beginnings to its
present complex forms.*' But this is neither the point of view nor
the method of the earlier evolutionary or present-day neo-evolu-

2:5 For the most extended critique after the fallacies of this position

of Bucher's approach to the eco- had been exposed, he persists in

nomics of nonliterate peoples and regarding living "primitive" peoples

his idea of the relevance of these as the contemporary ancestors, so to

data for the problems of economics, speak, of more "developed" folk,

sec Leroy, passim. and in tying in their customs at the

24 The most recent work of this end of a sequence derived from pre-

type, a curiosity in its uncritical ac- historic data,

ceptance of a pseudo-evolutionary 25 Usher ( 1920 ) , 24.

picture of the presumed "develop- 2G Dixon and Eberhart, 50-66,

nient" of economic life, is Viljoen's 80-106.
volume. Published in 1936, long

56 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

tionary approach, which held that living primitive peoples might
be regarded, so to speak, as our "contemporary ancestors" and
that by studying their customs the "earlier" manifestations of our
own traditions can thus be traced. 27

Both point of view and method die hard, since even where
they do not significantly function, they tend to give a subtle bias
to basic approaches. This is seen in simple form where "pre-
literate" is used instead of "nonliterate" in writing of "primitive"
folk, or where students in describing nonliterate societies employ
the past tense when considering institutions that today flourish
in full vigor. It is found in tenuous or modified form in the elab-
orate sequences of the purported historical development of types
of economies set by Thurnwald. 2 * It is present in a less sophisti-
cated form in an early study of the psychology of property by
Beaglehole, where it is couched in terms of the sequence "prop-
erty among animals property among primitives property
among civilized children." 29 It is to be seen in the manner in
which Schmidt, Koppers and the members of the culture-his-
torical "school" of anthropology force economic data into a mold
made out of a hypothetical progression of cultural types based on
the assumption of the existence of cultural "layers" resulting from
the interplay of reconstructed "historical strata." 30 It is a vestige
of the evolutionary approach that causes Hoyt to turn to data
from "primitive" societies in order to discover the "origins" of
trade and of the concept of value; 31 that places discussions of
nonliterate economies, where they are found in economic his-
tories, before considerations of the mediaeval manor and the
guild system, again implying a time sequence. 32 Certainly Mar-
shall, Marx, and Veblen, whatever differences may otherwise
mark their points of view, were all strongly influenced by the
evolutionary position. As a matter of fact, this approach is to be
regarded as the most important single factor standing in the way
of an adequate use of data from nonliterate societies by econ-
omists as a means of broadening concepts and checking general-
izations.

21 For the best statement of the Childe ( 19461) ).

neo-evolutionary approach as con- 2M Thurnwald (1932b), 59 ff.

cerns the development of technology 2 " Beaglehole ( 1932), 22-3.

and economics, see Childe (1946a). 30 Koppers; W. Schmidt.

His defense of the "contemporary 3I Hoyt (1926), 6-11.

ancestor" method will be found in 82 Cf . Gras ( 1922 ) and Weber.

ANTHROPOLOGY AND ECONOMICS 57

THE FAILURE on the part of earlier anthropologists to recognize
and treat fundamental economic facts in their studies of non-
literate societies was extraordinary. The sections of older ethno-
graphic monographs headed "Economics" are ordinarily more
or less adequate discussions of technology. In the face of a very
important tradition in anthropology, dating from the early Ger-
man students, that technology and economics are not to be differ-
entiated, it was almost entirely forgotten that "after all, fish-hooks
and canoes, spears and tree traps, fire drills and bronze adzes,
while constituting the technological foundation of economic ac-
tivity are in reality the tools and not the life of economic activ-
ity." 33 Many elaborate studies were made of how pots are fash-
ioned, or how houses are thatched, or how fibers are woven or
wood-carving done. In these earlier, more conventional descrip-
tions of nonliterate peoples, however, we seldom encounter state-
ments as to the organization of those who make pottery or of the
values of the finished product, in terms either of other com-
modities or of such money as the tribe may employ, or of what
gain accrues to these potters as a result of their specialized labor.
In several American series of anthropological contributions it has
been customary to devote the section headed "Economic Life"
to an exposition of the data dealing with technology, wherein
human beings make their appearance rarely, if at all. Here details
of trading, or the means of expressing value, or other more
relevant economic tacts are included in that part of the discussion
headed "Social Organization."

That some anthropologists should eventually have themselves
reacted against this consistent reluctance to study one of the
most important aspects of human social life is understandable. A
tradition of including the study of economic aspects of culture
in programs of field study was, it is true, quietly developing, but
the first explicit manifestation of this reaction took the form of a
vigorous attack on the doctrine of economic man. 34 This initial
volume was followed by another on the economics of the New
Zealand Maori, by one on the role of food in the lives of a South

3 <Gras (1927), 20. 85 Firth (1929).

34 Malinowski (1921, 1922).

58 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

African people, 36 and by still further contributions where the
focus of attention was fixed on economic phenomena. Finally, in
this series of works, came a supplementary treatise 37 on Tro-
briand Island economic life. 38

In all of these studies we had better economics than in most
conventional monographs dealing with nonliterate cultures that
preceded them. Yet the fact remained that if other anthropolog-
ical \vriters held economics to be technology, this last-named
group conducted their research and presented their findings on
the principle that economic life in nonliterate societies could not
be treated unless consideration was given to every facet of tradi-
tion that impinged on the economic institutions of a people. It is
not difficult to understand how this position was reached. Econ-
omists, as has been pointed out, can take for granted the cultural
matrix in which their data lodge. Early anthropologists, finding
but little to stimulate their research in the highly specialized
problems considered by economists, retreated into technology.
Reacting against this and other aspects of earlier work, these
later writers brought into the fore-conscious the cultural setting
of the economic data in societies other than our own. Tersely
stated, it may be observed that if for the earliest anthropologists
economics was technology, for these it was garden magic and
gift exchange. 39

A development which not only combined the economic and
sociological approach but injected a psychological element in
terms of personality types is also to be remarked, though it has
stimulated no field investigation which might test its methodolog-
ical value, or the validity of the hypothesis on which it is based.

36 Richards (1932). are of the highest importance for

37 Malinowski (1935). an understanding of comparative

38 These works have been selected economics, especially since in their
for mention because, emphasizing as books and papers the ethnographic
they did the same insistent point of materials are not obscured by di-
view, they were characterized by gressions on theoretical points.

one methodological attack on the 39 From one point of view this

problems. It must not be overlooked, reaction, though in general highly

however, that other studies were valuable, was unfortunate. It was

also being made by students em- so violent that out of it developed

ploying other approaches (Arm- a strong antipathy to carrying on

strong, Barton, Blackwood, DuBois, studies in the perfectly legitimate

Provinse) in Melanesia, Africa, and field of technology or, as it is termed

elsewhere at the same time. The by the anthropologists, material cul-

data in the works of these students ture.

ANTHROPOLOGY AND ECONOMICS 59

Bunzel, defining economics somewhat in terms of earlier eco-
nomic writing as "the total organization of behavior with refer-
ence to the problems of physical survival," stated that "funda-
mentally the function of any economic system is to maintain some
kind of equilibrium between material needs and the potentiali-
ties of the environment." Indicating the "endless variation" of the
manner in which these needs may be envisaged, she advanced
three "complementary principles" which were to be discerned in
the functioning economics that satisfy wants. These were ( 1 ) the
material principle, which "deals with the physical relationship to
the environment and with the classical anthropologist's 'material
culture' "; ( 2 ) the "formal principle . . . roughly 'social organ-
ization' "; and ( 3 ) the "psychological principle . . . concerned
largely with the general question of value in its widest sense, the
structure of the personality that determines choice, and the at-
titudes that animate institutions." 40

How to give full weight to the ways in which the institutions
of a given culture are interrelated, and the manner in which they
influence one another, is to take an unassailable anthropological
position which is recognized as a principal aim of field research.
One can also envisage problems wherein the influence of a given
economic system on the personality types of those who live under
it might be of importance. 41 Yet one cannot but ask whether such
matters as the production, the distribution, and the utilization of
goods and services cannot be studied, even where the cultural
matrix and psychological traits of the carriers must be made ex-
plicit, without constant reference to all the psycho-cultural mech-
anisms which everywhere underlie and sanction these processes.

It is questionable if anthropologists need burden the economic
theorist with all those traditional rules of social behavior, re-
ligious beliefs, and other masses of interrelated non-economic
ethnographic and psychological data which are essential in a
rounded study of a single culture, but are merely encumbrances
in an intensive analysis of materials bearing on any given single

40 Bunzel, 327. type he assumes to exist, and ac-

41 This is implicit in the earlier count for the typical psychological
writings, and explicit in the later configurations that mark off one
work of Kardiner ( 1939, 1945 ) group from another. It is interesting
where the economic aspects of a to speculate to what extent his
culture figure among what he terms thinking along these lines may have
the primary and secondary institu- been influenced by Bunzcl's position,
tions that set the basic personality

6o ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

aspect of social behavior. As the matter has been put: "In de-
scribing agricultural and hunting magic, must I give a complete
account of these economic activities, and in mentioning magic
for singing and dancing, must I describe song and dance? I think
not. Everything in the world is ultimately related to everything
else but unless we make abstractions we cannot even commence
to study phenomena." 42 To hold that economic phenomena con-
stitute but one aspect of culture does not mean that these phe-
nomena cannot be studied without studying all of culture. It may
be regarded as clear gain, as far as an interdisciplinary attack on
the common problems is concerned, that anthropologists are
coming to study economic phenomena in terms that add to the
body of economic knowledge by presenting thfeir materials with-
out so much reference to social context and psychological con-
sequence that these matters stand in the way of seeing the eco-
nomic implications of the data that are the basis of the study.

The subsequent development of an economic anthropology,
wherein economic aspects of nonliterate societies arc studied in
economic terms rather than as material culture, or myth or magic,
or cultural psychology, has been rapid. Goodfellow's study of
Bantu economics, to which reference has already been made,
was one of the first of these. 4J Far more balanced in pointing the
way toward an economic anthropology whereby the intensive
study of a given people leads toward the analysis of economic
generalizations already established, or to the setting up of new
hypotheses applicable in cross-cultural analysis, is Firth's study
of Tikopean economics. Here the social and religious setting of
the economy is accorded full recognition as an effective force in
shaping economic effort; yet the focus of the discussion remains
continuously on the economic implications of the data, and on
the economic institutions that document the principles of eco-

42 Evans-Pritcharcl (1937), 2. that, were this not so, the result

43 As is apparent from the previ- would be not only scientific conlu-
ous citations to this work, its tend- sion but practical chaos" (3) e\-
ency is to conceive of the economic plains why the data he adduces
anthropologist as apologist for ceo- tend to be given far-reaching in-
nomic theories rather than as ana- terpretations to enable him to bring
lyst of their applicability in non- them into line with particular prin-
machine and non-pecuniary cultures. ciples of economics that arise out of
His statement, "The aim of this the study of Euroamerican econo-
book is to show that the concepts mies (e.g., 90 on the entrepre-
of economic theory must be taken neurial function).

as having universal validity, and

ANTHROPOLOGY AND ECONOMICS 6l

nomic behavior. 44 In addition, an appreciable number of descrip-
tive monographs concerned with nonliterate peoples living in
North, Central, and South America, the South Seas, Southeast
Asia and Africa, from which data in the chapters that follow have
been drawn, have appeared, in which economic life is treated as
such, or has been the primary focus of the study. It is to be an-
ticipated that this tradition, now firmly established in anthropol-
ogy, will give a sure foundation of relevant data for further
comparative insights into the nature and functioning of the eco-
nomic process.

THAT conceptual as well as methodological difficulties stand be-
tween anthropologists and economists in communicating with
each other has been made apparent in this and the preceding
chapter. Walker points out that anthropology, with its insistence
on induction from observed fact, differs significantly from "the
method of economics which, being largely deductive, is not the
method of a positive science." He elaborates the point in the fol-
lowing passage, which returns us to a point made in the first
chapter:

Anthropologists are focused on the community rather than
the individual; they view society as a system of mutually
dependent elements, and emphasize the influence of social
forces on behaviour. The economist, on the other hand, de-
rives the forms of economic behaviour from assumptions
concerning man's original nature. He begins by considering
how an isolated individual would dispose his resources, and
then assumes that the individual members of a social group
behave in the same way. The "economic man" is not a "so-
cial animal" and economic individualism excludes society

44 Firth (1939). This hook ap- chapters of "The Economic Life of
pearecl while the earlier version of Primitive Peoples," as a demonstra-
the present work was in press. It is tion of how two students, approach-
interesting to compare the initial ing the question of the relation
chapter of Firth's study, especially between the two disciplines from
the section ( 22-9 ) entitled "Lack of somewhat different anthropological
Coordination between Anthropology points of view, can reach strikingly
and Economies," with the first two similar conclusions.

62 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

in the proper human sense. Economic relations are imper-
sonal. The social organization dealt with in economic theory
is best pictured as a number of Crusoes interacting through
markets exclusively. ... It is the market, the exchange op-
portunity, which is functionally real, not the other human
beings; they are not even means to action. The relation is
neither one of cooperation nor one of mutual exploitation,
but is completely non-moral, non-human. 45 The failure of
economic theory to present man as a social animal ... is
the basis of anthropologists' (and some economists') dis-
content with economic theory. 4 "

Yet it would be unfortunate to ignore the considerable con-
tributions of these two disciplines that are of potential or actual
use to each other. Not all of economic theory is by any means as
little adapted to the study of societies other than our own as cari-
catures of the subject drawn at one time or another by anthro-
pologists would have us believe. As has been repeatedly indi-
cated in preceding pages, we must allow for the inapplicability
of certain aspects of current economic theory to research in non-
literate, non-machine, and non-pecuniary societies. Yet we have
also seen ample suggestions in the literature of economics for
anthropologists to consider. In any society, for example, as has
been pointed out in our initial chapter, "the adaptation of means
to ends and the 'economizing* of means in order to maximize
ends" are a fundamental problem to be discussed under the
headings which, in one analysis, have been set forth as the
"elementary factors" in the achievement of this larger goal: "(1)
the wants to be satisfied, (2) the goods, uses, or services of
goods and human services, which satisfy them, (3) intermediate
goods in a complicated sequence back to (4) ultimate resources,
on which the production of goods depends, ( 5 ) a series of tech-
nological processes of conversion, and (6) a human organization
for carrying out these processes" comprising "the social or-
ganization of production and distribution in the large." 4T

45 F. H. Knight (1935), 282. found in the critique of the earlier

40 K. T. Walker, 135. Documen- version of this boolc by Knight and

tation of the differing conceptual the rejoinder to this critique, that

and methodological points of view comprise Appendix I, below,

sketched in this passage will be 47 Knight ( 1924), 260.

ANTHROPOLOGY AND ECONOMICS 6g.

The interests of the institutionalists 48 must lead inevitably to
an ethnological position. Economists who approach their mate-
rials from the institutionalist point of view have much to give
anthropologists concerned with the economic organization of
non-machine societies. This is the case whether they seek to un-
derstand the possible range of variation in these institutions, to
analyze the dynamic forces they exemplify for a comprehension
of growth and change in culture, or merely to describe them ade-
quately as they occur in a culture with which they happen to be
concerned. What, for example, can we learn from nonliterate so-
cieties of the processes by means of which the unequal distribu-
tion of economic resources make for the formation of social and
economic classes? What is the economic role of the drive for
prestige, as this is exemplified in patterns of the conspicuous
consumption of valuable goods and services in order to bolster
social position? Translating the Veblenian concept of the "in-
stinct of workmanship" into a generalized psychological principle
concerning the satisfaction derived by the worker when he can
identify himself with what he produces, and the corresponding
loss of pleasure in performance when this is denied him, what
can be learned by studying the relevant industrial processes in
terms of the opportunity in nonliterate societies for the worker to
enjoy to the full the rewards of his labor? These are some exam-
ples of what anthropologists can obtain by going beyond the em-
phasis laid by economists on questions dealing exclusively with
our economic order.

Anthropology, too, is less remiss than might appear at first
view. It is only too true that anthropologists in earlier times con-
cealed the economic data they collected with a cunning that
seems calculated. Yet in the aggregate, even in these older works,
there is a great deal to reward one who will read them, to say
nothing of the growing body of literature which deals with com-
parative economics in terms understandable and accessible to
economists. Thus we can now learn for a number of societies not
only how people are traditionally expected to work, and why, but
how much work given individuals actually did over given
periods of time. We can find not only native theories of land
tenure and accounts of its manifold interrelations with social and
religious custom, but also actual descriptions of land owned and

48 Cf. Atkins, Ayres, Gambs, Harris.

64 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

transferred, with mapped and measured indications of the bound-
aries as they exist. Accounts have been made available of what
actually was bartered in specific trading expeditions, while not
only descriptions of money and the regard in which money-
tokens are held are being presented, but also detailed systems of
value in terms of these units of currency.

That more quantitative analyses, so important in the study of
economic problems, are not available can perhaps be ascribed to
the practical difficulties of method faced by those who would
gather materials of this sort. But even here a beginning has been
made, and data of this order will be called upon wherever
possible in the ensuing pages, since we must recognize that such
quantitative materials vivify discussions of any* phase of economic
life, in whatever culture, in a manner out of all proportion to
their extensiveness. Certainly, it is a favorable omen that despite
the methodological difficulties which are so basic as to involve
finding an answer to the problem of determining a stable unit
in which figures may be expressed alertness to the importance of
such materials has come to be recognized by anthropologists
concerned with the economic life of the peoples they study.

PART II

PRODUCTION

CHAPTER IV

GETTING A LIVING

IT is not necessary to have an extensive acquaintance with
descriptions of nonliterate societies to realize how immediate
is the existing relationship between economic life and the natural
environment, or habitat. So immediate is this, indeed, that in
some societies the annual yield of the principal food-bearing
plant or the migration of the herds upon which a people must
depend for nourishment is the primary determinant of survival.
Under such conditions, it is by no means unknown for a commu-
nity to be restricted to an absolute maximum in size, beyond
which numbers are to be increased only on pain of starvation.
So rigorous a life, to be sure, is found only where the habitat is
most harsh, as within the Arctic Circle or in desert regions. Yet
even where nature is less difficult, and where knowledge of agri-
culture and husbandry have brought to man a greater measure of
control, his immediate dependence upon his natural environment
may still be vastly greater than anything known to our culture,
so that all other considerations must give way before the all-
important food-quest.

The account of an early explorer-trader in the territory in-
habited by the coastal Indians of the Gulf of Mexico affords a
ready illustration of this:

We made mats, which are their houses, that they have great
necessity for and although they know how to make them,
they wish to give their full time to getting food, since when
otherwise employed they are pinched with hunger. 1

1 Myer ( quoting Cabeza de Vaca ) , 739.

6 7

68 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Periodic recurrences of famine afford another manifestation of
nonliterate man's immediate dependence on nature. This is evi-
denced by the frequency with which West African stories have
as their opening phrase: "It was a time of famine." In such a
Melanesian island as Manam the fact that the principal crop
cannot be stored without becoming unfit for consumption causes
annual difficulties in providing food at the end of the dry season,
difficulties which even the processes of trade cannot wholly
resolve. 2 A vivid account of a great famine in another part of
Melanesia, the Trobriand Islands, given by a native, shows how
in times of stress, even men of rank did not disdain various
despised foods and "other abominations" * as aids to survival.

The ability of peoples having simple technologies to manip-
ulate their resources effectively is thus the most fundamental
aspect of their economic systems. As might be expected, the
most striking instances of this are to be found in those societies
sometimes termed marginal, among peoples who have been
forced by the superior strength of their neighbors into the least
desirable portions of the earth. The Bushmen of South Africa,
living in the Kalahari Desert, are one such folk. Here the
paramount problem is to obtain water. To meet this need they
bury water in ostrich egg-shells against the time of severest
drought, or make use of their knowledge of where to find the
roots, bulbs, and melon-like fruits whose moisture may spell
survival. They have also developed a means of filtering water in
stagnant pools by the use of a hollow reed to which grass has
been fastened. Food is mainly obtained by hunting, and the
insight of these people into the habits of the animals on which
they prey has long been famous, 4

The aboriginal Australians are a classic illustration of a people
whose economic resources are of the scantiest. In many places
their habitat is even more severe than that of the Bushmen,
although this is perhaps not quite true in the northern portion
of the continent. A tabulation of the foodstuffs which the
aborigines of northwest central Queensland extract from the
country they inhabit is instructive. Nothing seems to escape
them; seeds, edible roots, fruits and vegetables, flowers and
honey, insects and crustaceans, frogs, lizards, crocodiles, and

2 Wedgewood, 393. 4 Schapcra (1930), 140-3.

3 Malinowski (1935), 163-4.

GETTING A LIVING 69

snakes, fish caught in weirs or by poisoning the water, turkey-
bustards, flock-pigeons, and other birds, emus which are driven
into nets, bandicoots, opossums, kangaroos, and dingoes. 5 The
variety in this list is impressive, but we must not be deceived
into thinking that variety indicates plenty, for the available
quantities of each element in it are so slight that only the most
intense application makes survival possible.

In some areas, certain flora or fauna predominate as the pri-
mary source of food. Among the Chipewayan and the Caribou
Eskimo of the far north, where agriculture is unthinkable and
the gathering of wild plants restricted to a brief summer season,
caribou form the mainstay of the diet. Moose, buffalo ( in earlier
times, before the destruction of these herds), bear, wolverines,
otters, beaver, hares, and birds, particularly the ptarmigan, are
subsidiary sources of food, and their knowledge of the habits of
these animals, especially the caribou, is described as remarkable.
They exploit their resources in game so cleverly that they never
destroy or even demoralize the herds which provide them with
the essentials of life/' The most studied inhabitants of the arctic,
the Eskimo, need only be mentioned to bring them to mind as
an outstanding example of efficiency in adjusting life to the
difficulties posed by nature. Here no possible resource is neg-
lected; in addition, to help them meet the demands of their
difficult setting, these people have developed mechanical aids
that are so delicately tuned to this setting that persons who go
into the country of the Eskimo, no matter how complex the
technology of the culture from which they derive, in some meas-
ure adopt the techniques of these people if they are to survive. 7

The Indians of central and northern California, in the days
before their contact with the whites, supported themselves en-
tirely on what was available in their habitat seeds of various
kinds, roots, nuts, berries, fish, and game. The difficulties in
obtaining the means with which to sustain life, and the methods
by which this problem was solved, varied over the state. 8 Along
the coast, especially in the north, fish were plentiful, but in the
interior grasshoppers, angleworms, and yellow-jacket larvae were
regularly called upon to provide nourishment, while in times of

6 Roth (1897), 91 ff. 7 Cf. Boas (1888); Jenncss; Bir-

G Birkct-Smitli (1930), 19. ket-Smith (1936).

8 Krocbcr, 523-6.

^O ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

stress the large yellow slug was by no means scorned. Like their
neighbors, the Yurok consumed the acorn extensively, and salmon
that came up the rivers were an additional staple. Deer and
other small game, though not plentiful, were hunted to add to
the total of food resources, while bulbs were dug in early sum-
mer, and later in the season seeds were beaten out of the
prairie grasses. Seaweed furnished salt. The people living on
the coast gathered mussels and other Crustacea, surf fish were
captured when the occasion offered, and the stranding of a whale
was an event. 9

These instances show how close the association between man
and nature in non-mechanized societies can be, but they should
not be taken as in any sense typical of the assumed economic
poverty that has sometimes been mistakenly held to characterize
"primitive" societies as such. As a matter of fact, the examples
given are exceptional, since the proportion of non-industrial
peoples whose technological equipment is so meagre, or whose
environmental settings are so severe as in the case of the tribes
given here, is very small. A very large proportion of nonliterate
societies engage in food-gathering and hunting to supplement
what they produce by means of agricultural and herding tech-
niques, or, in many instances, merely to provide delicacies. But
even where such peoples command techniques that are sub-
stantially advanced over those of the food-gathering and hunting
societies, they manifest a similar closeness to their natural en-
vironment. This is essential if they are to make the most of their
technological equipment and to provide themselves with the
supplementary foods to be had without cultivation or the need
for domesticating animals.

The Indians of the Guianas afford a concrete illustration of
the manner in which a people who are not forced to meet prob-
lems as serious as those posed by the habitats of the Australians
or the Bushmen, and whose technology, though not highly
developed, is more complex than that of any of the peoples who
have been mentioned, effectively exploit the resources they find
to hand. From the forests in which they live they obtain the
agouti, the armadillo, the bush hog, the deer, the manati,
monkey, otter, rat, sloth, tapir, and water haas. Of birds they

9 Ibid., 84.

GETTING A LIVING 71

trap quail, duck, toucan, and guacharo; they have thirteen dif-
ferent methods of catching the fish in the rivers, while from these
streams they also gather turtles, iguana, alligators whose flesh
and eggs are both consumed frogs, crabs, and molluscs. Toads
and snakes offer another food resource, as do earthworms, beetles,
ants, and wasps and bees, together with the honey these last
afford. Vegetable foods are mainly supplied by agriculture, which
yields cassava, maize, rice, and some twenty-four "economic
plants/' But there are a number of "cassava substitutes" collected
from natural sources mora seeds, greenheart seeds, dakambali
seeds, pario seeds, and nuts of the swari tree, besides the twenty-
seven kinds of "wild fruits, berries, nuts, etc." that have been
listed. In addition to all the foregoing, these Indians draw on
their forested home for the materials they use to make their
fermented and non-fermented drinks and, besides tobacco, which
they grow, for the four other types of narcotics and stimulants
they enjoy. 10

The North American tribes of the upper Missouri may also
be mentioned, among others, as further illustrating how natural
surroundings can be exploited. They gathered twenty-two kinds
of roots, berries, and other wild foods of these types, hunted
fifteen species of animals, and trapped six kinds of birds to
supplement their agricultural produce. 11 Many of the tribes
that lived in the region of the Great Lakes made a major resource
of the wild rice that grows there, to which they added the flesh
of the fowl that fattened on the ripened stalks. 12 Or, to move
to an entirely different area, we find that in West Africa, where
a steady supply of food and, in addition, a considerable surplus
over what is needed for primary purposes of supporting life are
ensured through the complex organization of the economic order
and its technological proficiency, hunting provides an additional
source of food, while products of forest and stream supplement
the domesticated staples in the diet. A comparable phenomenon
is found in the place accorded fishing in the basically agri-
cultural economy of Polynesia. Thus the Society Islanders know
in amazing detail the habits of the numerous varieties of fish
found in these waters and call on their knowledge to assure

10 Roth (1924), 174-247. 12 Jcnks, 1073 ff., 1099.

11 Donig, 583.

72 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

themselves the most advantageous conditions under which to
seek out the schools of fish that afford the largest catch or the
choicest food. 13

So CLOSE, indeed, and so seemingly obvious is the relationship
of nonliterate man to his habitat that one of the several deter-
minisms which from time to time have been advanced to explain
the nature of human civilization is based on this fact. The more
extreme position of those who hold to this point of view, that all
human culture is to be understood in terms "of this need for meet-
ing the demands of the natural environment, need not be taken
too seriously. To make such a position tenable it would be nec-
essary to establish similarity for all bodies of custom existing
under a given habitat, while different cultures would always have
to be found under different natural settings. Happily, this point of
view is more often met with in the writings of those who set it up
to disprove it than in the discussions of those concerned with the
real and extremely important problem of the relationship be-
tween man and his environmental setting.

The answer given by a number of students of comparative
culture is that the environment is a limiting rather than a deter-
mining force. It sets the lines beyond which a people can go in
exploiting their surroundings only if their technology permits
it, and dictates certain limits beyond which they cannot conceiv-
ably go at all, whatever their technological equipment. Further-
more, it is apparent that the habitat does not exert its influence
equally on all aspects of culture. This is an important point for
our discussion, since it is the economic modes of life that most
immediately respond to the natural environment and are most
obviously adjusted to it. Hypotheses concerning the relationship
between a culture and its natural setting thus almost invariably,
and certainly most convincingly, draw on data of this character.
Yet, as has been indicated, between a people and their habitat
stands their technology. Though future research must furnish full
documentation, our present knowledge permits us to indicate two
principles that apply in this relationship. In the first place, it is

13 Nordhoff, 243.

GETTING A LIVING 73

apparent that in so far as the various aspects of culture are
concerned, the natural environment will play a more important
role where getting a living is involved than in religion, or social
organization, or art. Secondly, the available data indicate that
the more adequate the technology, the less direct are the
demands made by their environment on the daily life of a
people. 14

The Ifugao of the Philippines afford a good instance of a
people who, though possessing but a relatively simple technologi-
cal equipment, extract a varied living from their habitat. Not only
do they exploit what it offers of itself and employ many of its
possibilities in producing their basic food necessities, but also,
because of one especially developed technique, force it to yield
crops of rice in seeming defiance of what would seem to be the
limits set by the natural environment. A statement of the range
in the sources of food-supply, in terms of percentages yielded by
each of the various techniques employed, has been provided us.
Produce from which peoples lacking agriculture or husbandry
would have to derive their entire subsistence hunting, fowling,
fishing, and the collection of insects and wild vegetable foods
accounts for something under ten per cent. Animal-culture
chickens, pigs, goats, and cattle, of which the last two are in-
consequential provides a further four per cent. Finally, at the
time when the report from which these proportions are derived
was written, another two per cent was imported. This means that
over four-fifths of the total subsistence produce, eighty-four per
cent, comes from agriculture.

If, before considering the relationship of Ifugao processes of
production to the natural environment, we sketch their setting,
we find that its most striking aspect, and the one that presents
these folk with their greatest problem, is the configuration of the
land. The people live in narrow valleys, flanked by precipitous
mountains, rising five thousand feet and more over their bases. So
broken is the country that the largest single area of flat land
contains no more than five hundred acres.

The two major crops are camotes (sweet potatoes) and rice;
all others are negligible compared with these. Carnotes grow
well on the mountainsides. The steeper the slope, the more favor-
able the conditions for planting this crop, since here the worker,

14 Cf. Dixon, 31-2; Herskovits (1948), 153-66.

74 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

as he clears his land and plants the roots, need not bend as he
would were the slope less steep. Indeed, these plants are grown
on mountainsides so precipitous that none but an Ifugao can
climb them. Since the growing crops need little care, flourish in
poor soil, and are not subject to the depredations of insects or
other pests, it is obvious that we have here a crop admirably
adapted to the environment in which it is grown.

Rice differs from the camote in every respect. It not only is a
much more delicate plant, but requires irrigation. Now to be able
to irrigate ricefields situated on steep mountainsides means that
some device must be perfected which enables the water to be
retained. The device by means of which the Ifugao defeat the
limits set by these mountains is terracing. Rice does not grow
above an altitude of 5,000 feet, so that the fields cannot go beyond
this height, but some terraces that attain the upper limit of pos-
sible cultivation soar in sheer reaches of 2,500 or 3,000 feet. The
only requirement is that there be a spring above the topmost
level. The resulting flow can then be turned at will from one
step to the next, until all the fields have water, a process which
allows the fertile silt, that would otherwise be washed into the
valley and down the river, to be retained.

The labor that goes into the construction and maintenance
of the system of terraces is prodigious. In most places the earth
will not permit terracing without the construction of stone re-
taining walls, and the stones of which these walls are built must
be carried up from the bed of the river in the valley far below.
Terrace walls which rise to a height of twenty feet permit fields
some eleven feet in depth; elsewhere, among neighboring tribes,
where the mountains are steeper, terraces rise as high as fifty
feet. The details of how rice is planted, cared for while growing,
and harvested need not be given here; the fact that the Ifugao
have apparently achieved a contradiction in terms of what would
seem to be insurmountable limitations set by their habitat, and
in so doing have widened the economic base of their society, is
the point that concerns us at the moment. 15

Another illustration of how original difficulties presented by
the habitat may be overcome by human effort is found in the
atoll of Pukapuka, which lies some four hundred miles northeast
of Samoa. This atoll consists of three islets, of which the northern

15 Barton (1922), passim.

GETTING A LIVING 75

one, where most of the inhabitants are found, is but a mile wide.
There are a number of villages on these tiny specks of land, faced
by the problem of how to produce a sufficient amount of food to
support life, since coral cannot be used for agriculture and the
coconut trees that grew on the island when it was first settled
did not provide enough nuts. The problem, however, was met by
manufacturing soil in which taro, the staple in this Pacific area,
could be grown. Large pits were dug, into which dead coconut
fronds and other fallen leaves from the bush were placed and
allowed to rot. Water seeped in through the coral, eventually
forming a thick mud, in which taro flourished. As time went
on, these pits were enlarged to allow for the production of more
taro, and today enormous excavations yield enough to feed entire
villages. 10

This point, however, must not be pushed too far. For while
culture can, and often does circumvent the restrictions of the
habitat, more often we find a response to the natural setting in
such matters as the rhythm of work as manifested in the annual
round of economic and other activities. This is amply apparent in
the analysis of Mende agricultural operations made by Little,
where the production cycle and certain other phases of the
culture have been projected against the average monthly rainfall
for 1931^44 in the region of Sierra Leona they inhabit: 17

Month and

Rainfall

(Inches per

month]

December

(2.76)

January
(0.83)

Farm Operations

on Rice

Selection of farm sites.
Brushing commences.
Storing of last crop.
Harvesting of inland
swamps. Brushing cere-
monies.

Brushing upland farms
completed in some dis-
tricts and commenced
in others. Felling of
trees in some districts
commences. Harvesting
of last year's crop com-
pleted.

10 MacGregor (1935), 13.

Other Crops

Harvesting guinea corn,
millet, sweet potatoes,
coco yams. Ground nut
harvest complete. Cas-
sava harvesting and
planting in process.

Harvesting of guinea
corn completed. Sweet
potatoes, coco yams,
and cacao being har-
vested. Cassava har-
vested and replanted.
Planting of vegetables
on wetlands.

17 Little, 231-4.

Other Activities
Women fish-
ing. Secret so-
cieties initiate.

Preparation for
House Tax
payments. Se-
cret societies
continue in ses-
sion. Men
house-build-
ing, hunting,
and weaving.
Women fishing.

7 6

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Month and

Rainfall

(Inches per

month)

February

(0.37)

March
(4.21)

April
(5.0)

May

(8.1)

June
(10.2)

July

(5.0)

Farm Operations

on Rice

Brushing continues.
Felling completed and
burning commenced in
some districts. Late
swamp rice harvested.

Felling trees and burn-
ing still in process.
Burning completed in
other districts. Prepara-
tion of sites for v\etland
rice and planting of hill-
side depressions and
semi -swamp areas in
some districts. Brushing
of early swamps.

Burning completed.
Threshing of seed rice
in preparation for sow-
ing. Ploughing and sow-
ing on some uplands
commenced. Short du-
ration varieties sown on
swamps. Brushing of
swamps.

"Ploughing" and sow-
ing generally in prog-
ress. Sowing finished in
some districts. Prepara-
tion and sowing of
swamp nurseries.

Sowing completed and
seeding of early planted
crops begins. Broad-
casting on swamps.

General weeding of up-
lands. Late planting of
uplands completed.
Harvesting of early
planted wetlands.

Other Crops

Preparation of sites for
garden crops; e.g., on-
ions, beans, etc. Cacao
plantation brushed.
Coffee and kola har-
vested. Yam harvest
continues. New season
crop palm kernels
gathered.

Sweet potatoes planted
in swamps. Palm ker-
nels, kola harvested.
Yam harvest completed.

Harvesting and plant-
ing of cassava. Yams
and ground nuts plant-
ed. Coffee plantations
brushed. Palm kernel
harvest continues and
late crop of cacao.

Other Activities
Final society
ceremonies.
Initiates "pull-
ed* 5 from the
bush. House-
building, hunt-
ing, and fishing.

Continuation
of house-build-
ing, weaving,
hunting, fish-
ing.

Men weaving.

Harvest of early sweet Men weaving,
potato crop. Cacao and
coffee plantations
brushed. Cassava, mil-
let, guinea corn, etc.
planted on uplands.
Yams planted.

Planting of late ground Women spin-
nuts. Harvest of old cas- mng thread,
sava crop and sweet po-
tatoes. Yams staked and
weeded.

Harvesting of early
ground nuts and early
maize varieties. Plant-
ing of millet and guinea
corn on uplands com-

Month and
Rainfall

(Inches per
month)

August
(22.9)

GETTING A LIVING

Farm Operations

on Rice Other Crops

Transplanting of swamp pleted. Kola planta-
rice seedlings. tions brushed. Sweet

potato harvest continues.

Other Activities

September
(17.7)

October
(9.81)

Weeding completed on
uplands. Weeding of
early planted swamps.
Broadcasting on very
late uplands completed.
Scaring of birds general
on uplands. Swamps
transplanted.

Harvesting of early up-
land rice. Bird scaring
continues Weeding of
early planted swamps.
Transplanting contin-
ues and broadcasting on
late wetland still con-
tinues.

Harvesting of main up-
land crop begins. Bird
scaring on late uplands
continues. Late trans-
planting of swamp com-
pleted. Harvest of early
short season swamp rice.

Harvesting of upland
rice completed.

Harvesting and new
planting of cassava.
Weeding of yams.
Ground nut harvest
continues, also maize.
Intermediate crop of
kola harvested. Palm
kernel harvest slackens.

Ground nut harvest
continues. Yams and
coco yams weeded. Har-
vest of old and new cas-
sava crops. Replanting
of potatoes on swamps.
Maize harvest contin-
ues. Planting of bread-
fruit.

Ground nut harvest
completed. Main plant-
ing cassava completed.
Late maize crop har-
vested. Planting of
s\\ ect potatoes.

November Harvesting of upland Preparation of sites for House-build-
(5.9) rice completed. dry season vegetables, ing begins.

particularly in stamps,
begins. Sweet potato
planting continues. Ca-
cao harvested.

In so far as the matter of obtaining a living concerns the
primary problem of producing the supplies of food necessary to
sustain life, then, we must conclude that while the habitat is
important, the technology of a people, playing on the environ-
mental factor, molds and shapes the possibilities offered by
nature. It will therefore be apparent how significant is the state-
ment made in the preceding chapter that while technology is
not economics, we cannot escape the fact that the basis of eco-
nomic life is technological. But technology is a part of culture

^8 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

that body of traditions which every group possesses. Hence we
are justified in drawing the conclusion that culture plays a con-
siderable part in dictating the forms that any given mode of
obtaining a living, as any other aspect of life, may take among
a given people.

THIS leads to the question as to the uses toward which tech-
nological devices are put, as playing on the permissive limits of
the natural environment, they push these limits outward with
every invention, every improvement in tools, every change to-
ward an increased efficiency in production. Here we must look
further into the question of the degree to which economic pat-
terns are pointed toward a greater degree of efficiency in the
production of goods, and to what extent the responses of a people
to what is produced can be channeled by their habits of con-
sumption so as to further or block the development of a richer
material background of life.

Certainly it cannot be claimed that non-industrial peoples
are not alive to many of the possibilities within their reach. Nor
is their technology such as not to cause admiration for the way
in which they meet the total range of the practical problems in-
volved in obtaining their livelihood. There are numerous in-
stances to indicate that nonliterate man has developed techniques
involving a degree of foresight and of minutely detailed knowl-
edge which not only constitute a complete refutation of the
stubborn idea that "savages" lack vision and intelligence, but
indicate how far these peoples will go in rationally attacking the
primary tasks of gaining a livelihood. Indeed, a rich documenta-
tion is at hand not only to demonstrate the extent to which they
can exercise foresight in providing for their daily needs, but
also to show how effectively they are able to plan for whatever
special requirements they may have to meet. 18

The Chuckchee of Siberia depend almost entirely on their
herds of reindeer for subsistence. Chuckchee herdsmen carefully
select for breeding purposes does that come from hereditary lines
known to produce the strongest fawns. The herd is shrewdly

18 Mead (1937), 12.

GETTING A LIVING 79

evaluated from this point of view, the herdsman noting the
lineage of each of his animals over three or four generations and
determining, from his knowledge of the kind of deer each lineage
characteristically produces, which does are the least desirable.
When the need for meat arises, he selects those females least
likely to produce the best fawns; on the other hand, in breeding
he arranges the mating of his animals so that his herd eventually
consists of the most desirable type. 19

The words of an Ojibway chief may be cited to show how his
people were alive to the benefits to be derived from conserving
their resources:

Wherever they went the Indians took care of the game
animals, especially the beaver. ... So these families of
hunters would never think of damaging the abundance or
the source of supply of the game, because that had come
to them from their fathers and grandfathers and those behind
them. . . . We Indian families used to hunt in a certain
section for beaver. We would only kill the small beaver and
leave the old ones to keep breeding. Then when they got too
old, they, too, would be killed, just as a farmer kills his pigs,
preserving his stock for his supply of young. 20

Among the Tsimshian, special storehouses were built during
good times to conserve foodstuffs against periods of scarcity. In
the myths of these people, for example, we read of a chief who
possessed four storehouses full of provisions one of salmon,
one of bullheads, one of seals, porpoises, and sea lions, and one of
whale meat. Another myth tells how the owner of storehouses
filled them with boxes of porpoise meat and seal-blubber against
the time that this food should be needed. 21

On the Polynesian island of Mangaia, taro is irrigated by
means of a race which supplies water to terraced patches. Despite
the fact that only wooden digging-sticks were available as tools
in earlier days, it was nonetheless possible, by means of the co-
operative effort of the entire community, to achieve the com-
pletion of "public works" which attained considerable magni-
tude, since the race had to be dug from some distance upstream
to obtain a sufficient fall of water. 22

19 Bogoras (1904), 70 ff., 79, 16. 21 Boas (1916), 396.

20 Speck (1914-15), 186. 22 Hiroa (1934), 130.

80 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

However, while every culture must operate efficiently enough
to ensure that its human carriers survive, it does not follow that
this efficiency is as apparent when viewed from outside the
culture as it appears to those who carry on the traditions under
which it is sanctioned. For just as any given technological equip-
ment can be used to extend the possibilities of the environment
and thus to broaden the basis of economic and other aspects of
life, so this equipment can be used to maintain traditional modes
of procedure, despite objective proofs that the traditional way
is more laborious and even more difficult than another equally
well-known method. Many instances of this have been pointed
out in our own culture. Indeed, the sociological concept of "lag"
is based largely on the fact that even in our mechanistic society,
a laborious operation is preferred, more frequently than we
realize, to a more efficient one.

The element of tradition is thus of great importance in deter-
mining the forms of technological and economic aspects of cul-
ture no less than of any other aspects. Existing custom also
profoundly influences the way in which a people will react to
subsequent possible additions presented by inventions and dis-
coveries made from within, or by ideas and techniques coming
from contact with other cultures. Again we are faced with
questions of the dynamics of cultural growth and the nature of
cultural change questions of the first order of difficulty, no less
than of importance. We cannot help being impressed by the
many different forms taken by institutions and techniques as
expressed in the great variety of methods which groups of hu-
man beings employ to attain a given end. Yet when we find that
in every culture the particular means evolved for solving a par-
ticular problem are looked upon as the only valid ones and that
change is made with reluctance, we must also be impressed with
the conservatism of human beings in modifying their customary
modes of behavior.

Can nonliterate peoples, however, be said to be more con-
servative than literate groups? The lack of historical data on the
rate of change in these non-historic societies has caused many
writers to stress their conservatism. But it is doubtful whether
such a position could stand a documentary test were we able to
follow the course of development of some nonliterate people
over a period of several hundred years. The data of archaeology

GETTING A LIVING 8l

testify to the ubiquity of cultural change. Furthermore, the brief
histories of people without written languages of their own who
have had prolonged contact with those who could write of them,
give us sufficient grounds for holding that as regards their accept-
ance both of inner change and outer borrowings they are no dif-
ferent from literate peoples.

What we find is rather that in every culture change is less
difficult to effect in certain aspects than others, though the
element of culture most susceptible to change will vary from peo-
ple to people. In our own society, the centers of sanctioned
change lie in the fields of material culture and technology. But,
to take only one instance, equal receptivity to change certainly
does not characterize our attitude toward the intangibles of our
economic organization. The vitality of the concept of laissez
faire in the face of alterations in the mechanical basis of our
economy that have deprived this point of view of all but the
justification of traditional usage, bears eloquent witness to this
point. Strictly speaking the terms "invention" and "discovery"
describe the means by which any new elements are introduced
into a body of custom, whether material or non-material. Yet we
reserve the praiseworthy title of "inventor" for one who intro-
duces a change, no matter how revolutionary, in the mechanical
processes of industry, while we apply the less complimentary
term "revolutionary" to the inventor of new concepts applicable
to the economic structure we have raised on the industrial base.

The generalization that material culture and its concomitant
economic aspects are more susceptible to change than nonmate-
rial-elements is not borne out, for example, by the considerable
data available from Mexico and Central America. These data
rather suggest that this hypothesis was drawn under the influence
of observations concerning the differential rates of change found
in various aspects of our own way of life. Thus, for example, we
may consider the changes that have taken place in the life of the
Mexican town of Tzintzuntzan, concerning which our knowledge
covers a period of over four hundred years. At its initial contact
with the Spanish conquerors, it was the "capital and nerve center
of the vast Tarascan Empire"; today it is a small, isolated village.
Though we learn that "the changes that have taken place . . .
are enormous," yet "in the basic economic organization of the
village, perhaps fewer changes have taken place than in any

82 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

other aspect of life." That is, "a dweller in Tzintzuntzan of four
centuries ago would find, in spite of great differences, more than
mere traces of similarity between the outward, material manifes-
tations of life today and that which he had known," while "the
political, social, and religious forms of today would ... be en-
tirely unrecognizable." " M

Whatever the case concerning change in the various aspects of
culture, we are constantly presented with this paradox when we
study any given culture as a whole: while human beings are
strikingly conservative in the maintenance of their institutions,
no body of tradition continues in living form without changing.
As a result of this balancing between conservatism and change,
we find a series of institutions in every culture that, held together
by the sanctions given them under traditional codes of behavior,
to the outsider often seem curious or quaint or inefficient. But
they never seem either curious or quaint, and rarely seem in-
efficient, to those who live in terms of a given culture. It is the
business of the anthropologist to seek out and understand this
inner logic that causes a particular grouping of patterns to seem
right, and most often uniquely right, to a given people. And it
may be remarked in passing that this is yet another reason why
those not trained in this method find it so difficult to view the
customs of others with scientific detachment, especially where
technology and economics are concerned. For it is in these fields
that the logic of a culture is most readily to be tested by the
objectively ascertainable facts of the situation in which its con-
ventions operate. 24

THIS theoretical digression has been necessary to understand the
point of view that must be taken in studying even so elementary
a phase of comparative economics as the methods a people em-
ploy to obtain a living. So powerful is the body of conventions
that rule the lives of every folk that no people exploit the pos-
sibilities of their environment to the degree their technological

* J Foster (1948), 6-15, 282-6. change in culture, cf. Herskovits

24 For a more extended discussion ( 1948), 479-504.
of the problem of conservatism and

GETTING A LIVING 83

equipment permits, since sanctioned modes of behavior cut across
any approach to complete efficiency in the utilization of natural
resources. The members of a community, in choosing from such
resources as are at hand, operate within the patterns that dictate
what is and what is not permissible.

This is apparent in many instances, but as will be seen in
later pages, nowhere is it more striking than in the conventions
that dictate what may and what may not be eaten or worn. Even
where such primary goods are not involved, taboos often exist
against the utilization of certain materials for tools, or their use
by certain individuals or classes of individuals within a society,
or at certain periods of the year. These taboos are observed with
faithfulness and fervor, despite the fact that they materially
lower the efficiency of the group as a whole in wresting from their
environment the means of support or survival. Many of the
psychological imponderables of a religious, sociological, or artis-
tic nature found in a given society do not, of course, bear sig-
nificantly on economic patterns. But those that do concern
economic life are of the greatest importance for any comprehen-
sion of this phase of existence. It is not difficult to understand
how an undue neglect of such imponderables has tended to give
to the speculations of those economists who have been concerned
with nonliterate cultures a certain air of unreality, when the
applicability of their hypotheses to life as actually lived has been
put to the test of the empirical facts.

In most societies, either because of the rigors of the habitat
or because of the directives given to economic effort by tradition,
certain categories of natural resources are exploited far more
than other equally usable elements. This is true even where no
technological reasons exist for not exploiting such resources, as,
for example, in East Africa, where herding and food-raising
peoples in contact have failed to grasp the opportunity to learn
agriculture from one another. This channeling of productive
activity has been given a great deal of attention by students of
the problems of the development and organization of the eco-
nomic life of nonliterate peoples. Expressed in the concept of
economic "types," it constituted an integral part of the evolu-
tionary approach sketched in the preceding chapter. And since
it has continued to figure in economic theory, any discussion of
the way in which peoples gain their livelihood would be incom-

84 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

plete without mention of the classifications of types of economies
that have been made.

Gras has concisely summarized in the following passage some
of these classifications of types of economies:

The old theory was that early peoples went through three
stages, hunting ( collectional ) , pastoral, and agricultural.
This was the view of Dicaearchus (4th century, B.C.), of
Varro (1st century, B.C.), of Condorcet (1793), List (1841),
Nieboer (1900), Vinogradoff (1905), and Hobhouse, Whee-
ler, and Ginsberg (1915). In 1874, however, Gerland as-
serted that in remotest times plant culture preceded animal
culture, and that later some peoples became nomads and
others hunters. In 1875, Hellwald, and in 1893, Biicher,
doubted whether the three traditional stages were univer-
sally true. In 1896, Hahn put different forms of plant culture
before animal culture. In the same year Grosse held that
the pastoral stage was not invariable. In 1897, Bos placed the
hoe culture before pasturing. Pumpelly, in 1908, maintained
that agriculture preceded the domestication of animals in
prehistoric Transcaspia. 23

Such a listing of contradictory progressions demonstrates the
fruitlessness of seeking to establish any unilinear scheme in
describing the development of economic life through various
stages. The categories themselves, however, can be used to good
purpose if they are considered as descriptive of the several kinds
of economies that actually exist, since, as in all scientific endeavor,
data must be classified as a preliminary step to any further
analysis. And though such an approach is not germane to the
objectives of this book, inasmuch as our interests center on the
variation in economic drives and institutions in nonliterate soci-
eties, yet it will not be unprofitable to indicate some of the
systems that have more recently been advanced.

Gras sets up the following categories: "Collectional economy
(hunting, fishing, grubbing, and so forth), cultural nomadic
economy (pasturing or planting or both), settled village econ-
omy ( developing a true agriculture ) , town economy, and metro-
politan economy/' 2r> Such a classification has several advantages.
It is not evolutionary in its approach, it differentiates between

25 Gras (1922), 44. 20 Gras (1927), 19.

GETTING A LIVING 85

types of economies in different parts of the world, and it takes
into consideration what is known of the prehistory or history of
the groupings it sets up. The very fact, however, that it is pro-
jected into these several dimensions, and must include so many
subdivisions, indicates the difficulties that lie in the way of
attempts to classify social data of any sort when the realities of
the social and historical situations are all taken into account.

Another classification of economies, which exemplifies these
difficulties has been suggested by Thurnwald, 27 who distinguishes
the following types of economies: "homogeneous communities of
men as hunters and trappers, women as collectors" ( pp. 59 ff. ) ;
"homogeneous communities of hunters, trappers, and agricul-
turalists" ( pp. 63 ff . ) ; "graded societies of hunters, trappers, agri-
culturalists, and artisans" ( pp. 66 ff . ) ; "homogeneous hunters and
herdsmen" ( pp. 76 ff. ) ; "ethnically stratified cattle-breeders and
traders" ( pp. 79 ff . ) ; "socially graded herdsmen with hunting,
agricultural, and artisan populations" ( pp. 85 ff . ) ; and "feudal
states and socially graded communities" (pp. 93 ff.). Each of
these categories is illustrated by various nonliterate societies, and
the series is ended by a discussion of the "familia" and "manor"
in Europe, thus giving a distinct flavor of time to the progression.

This classification is open to several objections, of which the
two most serious may be mentioned. It is apparent, first, that the
introduction of sociological and political criteria into a classifica-
tion of economies blurs the lines along which the classification
has been drawn and, by confusing the objective, defeats the
primary aim of simplification. In the second place the system
seems to imply certain universal genetic processes in establish-
ing these socio-politico-economic cultural types that would be
difficult to establish. 28 The progression of Hobhouse, Wheeler,
and Ginsberg already mentioned, is likewise amenable to use as
a classificatory device. Based on "an order corresponding to the
degree of control over nature and mastery of material condi-
tions," it thus indicates a series of differences between economic
types quite as much as it is a statement of evolutionary progres-
sion. It is to be noted that it has been employed in this clas-
sificatory sense by its authors." 9

By far the most satisfactory classification of economies, how-

27 Thurnwald (1932a), 52-84. 29 Hobhouse, Wheeler, and Gins-

28 Thurnwald (19321)), 59-102. berg, 29 ff.

86 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

ever, has been drawn by Forde. He first of all prefaces his state-
ment of types with the striking caution: "People do not live at
economic stages. They possess economies, and again we do not
find single and exclusive economies but combinations of them."
Then he proceeds to name "in the broadest way" five kinds of
systems: collecting, hunting, fishing, cultivation, and stock-rais-
ing. 30 His reservation that these must not be thought to exist in
pure form is most important. As we have seen, peoples every-
where are prone to utilize what is "given" them by their natural
environment as their technological capability permits and within
the lines set by their traditions. It is only in extremely rare in-
stances, if in any cases at all, that they have been found to
confine their efforts to one form of productive activity. Thus
even where agricultural organization is advanced, hunting and
fishing are carried on. We need but recall, as an example of this,
the sources of the foods consumed by the Ifugao, an agricultural
folk, to recognize how it was possible in the same way for the
Plains Indians, whose cultures as they existed in the days of
pre-white contact have been accepted as almost classical ex-
amples of the hunting type, to have grown maize as well; or how
the herding culture of the Zulu of South Africa could be super-
imposed upon an agricultural subsistence economy.

One further point may be made here. If, in this chapter, in
considering the basic economic problem of obtaining a living,
attention has been centered on food, this is because food is the
most essential single requirement for survival even more than
shelter, and certainly more than clothing, into whose production
and use so many non-economic factors enter. Tools also fall in
the category of economic essentials, but secondarily, and only
when employed in producing basic needs. Other than these, the
bewildering variety of goods produced by mankind is to be re-
garded from an objective, though never from a psychological,
point of view, as a kind of economic gloss on the basic preoccupa-
tion with survival. This is especially true of cultures that do not
have the machine, where, as has been seen, technologies are
relatively simple and man is thus comparatively at the mercy of
nature. It may be freely granted that these glosses, so to speak,
once rooted in the traditions of the people who enjoy them, are
not thought of as any the less indispensable. They may, in fact,

*" Forde (1934), 461.

GETTING A LIVING 87

of themselves become so important that given individuals may
find existence literally unbearable without them.

Yet the economic concerns of nonliterate peoples, especially
of those who live at or near the subsistence level, do in large
measure reduce themselves to fundamentals of the kind discussed
here, elementary as such preoccupations may seem from the point
of view of the economic complexity of our machine society. We
shall, however, turn to these other types of goods as we further
consider the processes of production, and we shall find them con-
stantly recurring as we later treat of questions that bear upon the
manner of disposing of what has been produced. For, survival
value aside, the needs of any people, considered in the light of
their own desires, include the entire range of goods and services
which, with the mechanisms that exist for their production and
distribution, constitutes the integrated whole of any economic
system that is a going concern.

CHAPTER V

PATTERNS OF LABOR

OPINION as to the amount of work done by "primitive" man, and
his ability to concentrate on a given task, has been most fre-
quently phrased in terms of what may be called the "coconut
tree" theory. This is the point of view that holds the "savage" to
be a man who, commonly living in a climate where his needs are
bountifully provided by nature, neither is required to exert him-
self nor is willing to do so when he can obtain even the necessary
minimum to support life by abstaining from effort. Marshall's
statement on this point may be taken as a typical example:

Whatever be their climate and whatever their ancestry, we
find savages living under the dominion of custom and im-
pulse; scarcely ever striking out new lines for themselves;
never forecasting the distant future, and seldom making
provision even for the near future; fitful in spite of their
servitude to custom, governed by the fancy of the moment;
ready at times for the most arduous exertions, but incapable
of keeping themselves long to steady work.

The passage ends with this significant sentence: "Laborious and
tedious tasks are avoided as far as possible; those which are in-
evitable are done by the compulsory labour of women." l

This same point of view is stressed in the writings of Biicher.
He states that ". . . man has undoubtedly existed through im-
measurable periods of time without labouring," and, citing the
natural growth in the tropics of the palm tree, the breadfruit tree,
and similar plants, insists that "even modern research cannot
dispense with the assumption that mankind was at first bound to

1 Marshall, 723-4.

PATTERNS OF LABOR 89

such regions. . . ." 2 The assumption here, apparently, is that
the patterns of refraining from effort that mark present-day
"primitive" man were laid down in the early days of human
existence, and have persisted to the present because of the inertia
of "savages."

Yet quite aside from the fact that prehistoric men lived much
of their existence in the difficult environment of the glaciated
periods, such a statement finds no support in the lives of present-
day peoples anywhere. Even those "primitive" folk who inhabit
that most romantic area, the South Sea islands, work and work
hard, despite the fact that here, almost uniquely in the world,
man is furnished by nature with practically all his needs. This
fact, furthermore, also refutes Biicher's further assertion that
"primitive" man not only wastes potential resources in not utiliz-
ing his environment to the full, but also wastes time "the re-
proach of inertia to which primitive man is universally suspect." 3

It is unnecessary here to argue a position of this nature, since
to read any objective description of the life of peoples will show
how much in error it is. Moreover, a number of effective answers
have already been given to this assertion and others like it. Prob-
ably the most telling of these is that of Leroy, who, in comment-
ing on the dictum regarding the "laziness" of "primitive" man,
refers to a passage from the writings of F. W. Taylor, whose
study of motor habits of workers has been fundamental in speed-
ing up production in our great industrial plants. The founder of
the "Taylor system" is effectively quoted as speaking of "the
natural instinct and tendency of men to take it easy, which may
be called natural soldiering"; with the reminder that Taylor was
not speaking of "savages," but the workers in our own mech-
anized industries. 4

As we have seen before, however, it is one thing to recognize
that the need to refute an outmoded position no longer exists.
But it is quite another matter to ignore the position, and thus
risk not understanding how pervasive its influence has been, or
how it may be present even in the thinking of those who agree
with its refutation. Thurnwald furnishes an instance of this. He
is entirely correct in his initial observation, regarding non-
literate peoples, that "work is never limited to an unavoidable

2 Biicher, 7. * Leroy, 75-8.

8 Ibid., 19.

go ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

minimum," but that "owing to a natural or acquired functional
urge to activity" more work than is essential for survival is
always done. Yet a few pages later, in a passage reminiscent of
Marshall, he maintains:

In spite of an activity which is frequently assiduous, the
work of primitive peoples lacks that concentration and disci-
pline which seems to be only acquired through working with
more delicate machinery. They are quite ready to make an
effort when the work requires it, but they soon relax, and
as they are not compelled to make any consecutive effort to-
ward overcoming this tendency, they yield to the feeling of
fatigue. 5

Yet knowledge of work-habits even in the most highly indus-
trialized societies demonstrates that an ability to focus all effort
on a task in hand when it is necessary to do so, to work hard
when one must, and to relax when one is able, does not nec-
essarily imply "lack of concentration and discipline," but rather
a realistic sense of the physiological requirements of the human
system. That concentration is possible where interest is aroused,
and where it seems worth while to concentrate, is testified by
many of those who have had contact with nonliterate folk.

Actually, nonliterate peoples, like ourselves, do as much work
as they feel they must to meet the basic demands of getting a
living, plus as much more as their desire to achieve any given
end not encompassed by these basic demands calls for. Unlike
workers in a machine economy, however, they take their ease at
their own pleasure. The Tenetehara of northern Brazil define
the lazy man as "one who does not have food and necessities for
himself and family." 7 In Southern Bougainville,

There are tribal standards of minimum and maximum work-
ing hours. People who obviously spend little time in garden
work are labelled "lazy.". . . It is considered a grave insult
to be told: "Thy father's hand is clean; not a thing does he
plant; he has no wealth in crops." And the charge of laziness
is heard at a divorce hearing as often as is the charge of
adultery. On the other hand, it is unusual for a native to

6 Thurnwalcl (1932b), 209, 213. 7 Wagley and Galvao, 37.

6 Cf. Boas (1938), 134.

PATTERNS OF LABOR Ql

spend more than seven hours a day at garden work. Some
individuals, of course, do; and they are praised as "indus-
trious workers" but are not often imitated. 8

We shall, therefore, at the outset attack the problem of labor
in non-machine societies by drawing on quantitative data to
answer the questions how much, and how hard, workers in these
groups actually exert themselves in the process of producing the
goods and services deemed essential in the respective cultures in
which they live. For it is only through quantitative analyses of
our problem that we can achieve proper perspective on these im-
portant points.

THE ACCOUNT given for the Siang Dyak of Borneo was one of the
first of this type. Like other Indonesian peoples, this folk possess
an economy based on rice-culture in this case, the non-irrigated
variety which, as the staple food, is supplemented by the wild
pig and other products of the hunt, and by fishing and the gath-
ering of wild fruits, roots, and honey. Iron-working is well de-
veloped, so that they are self-sufficient as far as the manufacture
of the iron tools they use is concerned. Their hardest work is
clearing the jungle for rice fields.

In this setting, the amount of work done over a period of a
month was recorded for several individuals providing a state-
ment of how much labor a given number of individuals in this
society actually performed, how much they rested, and what kind
of work they did. One of these records may be given in full. It
is that of a man aged about fifty, married, with a wife and a
grown son.

Date How Occupied

August 24-26 Working in his own ricefield

27 Working in Oeke's riceficld (handd) *

28-20 Working in his own riceficld

30 Home, resting (made strap for knife)

3 1 Working in his own riccfield

* "Pure labor exchange "

8 Oliver (1949b), 90-1.

Q2 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Date How Occupied

September 1 Ditto

2 Home, resting ; wife's uncle visiting from another village

3 Home in a.m., resting; his own field in p.m.

4 Home, resting, half day; his own field half day

5 His own ricefield

6 Sahadan's ricefield (haweti) f

7-12 No record (observer absent from village)

1 3 Home resting

14 Home; helped Renting make coffin for dead baby

15 Home; assisting Renting (other work taboo)

16 His own ricefield
17-18 Home, resting

19 Sahadan's ricefield (haweti)

20-21 His own ricefield

22 Half day his own ricefield; home resting half day

23 Half day his own ricefield ; home half day sick

24 Home sick with dysentery

25 Ditto

26 Ditto (on his mat in the long house all day) 9

f "Working Bee," a form of co-operative work where the beneficiary does not give any re-
turn in kind for the labor done for him.

This man's efforts, and similar summaries of the activities of
others for whom records are given, may be tabulated as follows:

Activity Number of days spent by

A B C D E F

Working in own ricefield 12J 4 1 3 5 11

Working in others' ricefields 341592

Hunting in jungle 10 5 4

Gathering firewood in jungle 1

Acting as medicine-man * 8J/2

Traveling in Siangland 5 3

At home, working 3j^ 6 3J^ 2J/ 2]/

At home, resting 6 4 113/ 7 3>

Incapacitated or ill 3 (15) t

28 28 27 27 27 (28)

* Days or night.

t Not in original table; during these days this man was confined to his home because of an
accident to his foot that did not permit him to work.

In this table, A is the one whose work for the month has been
given above in detail. B was aged about forty, married, had a
wife and a grown son, and was chief of the village. C was the

9 Table from Provinse, 96-7; the September 26 states: "Tatak died a
note appended to this record for week later."

PATTERNS OF LABOR 93

assistant chief, about thirty-five years old, unmarried and living
with an unmarried sister. D was a blian, or medicine-man, of
about forty-five years, married; E a young man of twenty-three,
married for three years, but with no children. The final case was
of a man past fifty, married, whose wife, mother-in-law, and two
sisters lived at his house. While this tabulation was being made,
however, a falling tree so injured this man's foot that he was un-
able to resume work during the time observations were being
set down; hence during the period of his inactivity, indicated in
parentheses, he is to be regarded as an industrial casualty.

Inspection of these figures strikingly shows the variation to be
expected in the amount of work done by different individuals in
a non-industrial society. It indicates, further, how in this tribe,
at least, the workers were able to dispose of their time as best
pleased them, within the limits set by the need for providing a
living. If among the Siang all must work, all may also rest. If the
chief of the village spent more time hunting wild pig than any
other man of the group sampled, this merely means that he was
directing his efforts more toward one type of labor than another.
His assistant spent more days "at home, resting" than any other
man, but the chief himself is second lowest in this regard.
Though the professional duties of the medicine-man prevented
his working in the ricefields as much as his fellows, he is seen
spending a clay in the forest gathering firewood, and also, despite
his other concerns, giving a day to co-operative labor. As is
stressed in the original discussion of these schedules, the opera-
tion of no taboos and other intangibles seemed to interrupt the
rhythm of work. Thus while custom prescribes that no work must
be performed for three days after the death of a child or for
seven days, if a closely related adult dies yet one father whose
child died during the period under observation proceeded to his
field the day after the death without the breach of this regulation
even occasioning comment, much less punishment.

The data may be combined in a single tabulation. If the fifteen
days not given for F arc placed under the "at home, sick" head-
ing, the total amount of time is seen to have been apportioned as
indicated in the table on the next page.

The figures in this table, thus drawn on broad lines, afford
some further documentation of general points that have been
made. In drawing these generalizations, however, certain can-

94 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

tions must first be indicated. Thus there is no assurance that this
sample is representative of the total population. From the in-
formation at hand, for instance, we cannot say how iron-workers
spend their time, or whether one man out of every six is a medi-
cine-man, or how many persons might be expected to spend fif-
teen days out of twenty-eight as industrial casualties, or die in
any given period of four weeks. Yet even with these reservations
in mind, certain facts stand out clearly. We see how great a

Activity Number of days

Work in ricefields 60}^

working for self 36j/

working for others 24

Work in jungle 20

hunting 19

gathering firewood 1

Work as medicine-man 8J/2

Work at home 18

Total productive time 107

At home, resting 32

At home, sick 18
Traveling 8

Total non-productive time 58

Total 165

proportion of the available working time of those whose labor
was recorded was spent tending the primary crop more than
one-third of the total. We find confirmation of our assumption as
to the relatively great importance of the production of basic ne-
cessities in societies living on a low economic level, when we note
that almost one-half of the recorded time used for productive
activity went into growing or hunting food-supplies. On the
other hand, the assertion that non-industrial man is essentially
lazy could not be better refuted than by the fact that even if the
time put down to traveling is counted as non-productive as has
been done because no information is given us as to the purpose
of these journeys only one-third of the total number of days
was spent "resting." Finally, we see that more than a tenth of the
working time was lost to illness or industrial disability.

The activities of one woman have been recorded; the wife of

PATTERNS OF LABOR 95

A in the above list, aged about fifty, sister of the chief, and
mother of a grown son. Since her husband was an outstandingly
good worker, she spent less time in the fields than other married
women; on the other hand, being neither very old nor having
young children, she did not stay at home as much as women in
these categories.

> Date Plow Occupied

August 24 At home, pounding rice, cooking

25 Home in morning, housework; afternoon in ricefield

26 1 atak's field until 5 p.m.; pound rice two hours in

evening
27-29 Home, housework, pounding rice, etc.

30 Ditto; two hours in ricefield gathering javau

31 Ditto

September 1 With Tatak in ricefield (cooking for haweh group)

2 Three hours in ricefield ; home remainder of day

3 Home, housework, pounding rice, etc.
4-6 Ditto

7-13 No record (observer absent from village)

14 Home, housework, etc.

1 5 Home, helping with feast after burial of Kenting's baby

16 Home, housework, etc.

17-26 Home, housework, pounding rice, stripping rattan, etc.

The recapitulation of how this woman used her time shows that
her activities fall into two general categories:

Number

Activity of days

Home, doing housework, cleaning rice, weaving, stripping rat-
tan, etc. 24
Helping in r icefields 3

Total 27

Here again, though, these data must be used with all caution;
yet they do point to certain conclusions. One is the difference be-
tween the work of the men and the women, and the degree to
which a woman is confined more closely to her home than a man.
Another is the fact that while the time of the men was almost
entirely taken up with the production of the basic necessities of
life, an appreciable part of the time of this woman even with all
allowance for her case as a special one went into the production

94 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Activity Number of days

Work in ricefields 60^

working for self 36J^

working for others 24

Work in jungle 20

hunting 19

gathering firewood 1

Work as medicine-man SJ/2

Work at home 18

Total productive time 107

At home, resting 32

At home, sick 18

Traveling 8

Total non-productive time 58

Total 165

PATTERNS OF LABOR 95

1 Date Plow Occupied

August 24 At home, pounding rice, cooking

25 Home in morning, housework; afternoon in ricefield

26 Tatak's field until 5 p.m.; pound rice two hours in

evening
27-29 Home, housework, pounding rice, etc.

30 Ditto; two hours in ricefield gathering javau

31 Ditto

September 1 With Tatak in ricefield (cooking for haweh group)

2 Three hours in ricefield; home remainder of day

3 Home, housework, pounding rice, etc.
4-6 Ditto

7-13 No record (observer absent from village)

14 Home, housework, etc.

1 5 Home, helping with feast after burial of Kenting's baby

16 Home, housework, etc.

17-26 Home, housework, pounding rice, stripping rattan, etc.

The recapitulation of how this woman used her time shows that
her activities fall into two general categories:

Number

Activity of days

Home, doing housework, cleaning rice, weaving, stripping rat-
tan, etc. 24
Helping in ricefields 3

Total 27

96 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

of other kinds of goods, while the remainder was taken up with
household tasks and the preparation of food. 10

Comparable information, though less precisely recorded, is
available from Bougainville in the northwestern Solomon Is-
lands, where the mode of life is much easier than among the
Siang. 11 We may here, however, for our second account, turn to
somewhat fuller data from a comparable region, which records
the actual work done in cutting and planting two gardens on
Wogeo. We may consider the schedule for the larger of the two,
covering an area of 2700 square yards:

Day 1. Jaua, Sua and Kalal cutting down trees 7:58 a.m. to
12:04 p.m. and 2:02 p.m. to 4:55 p.m. They paused
three times for a total of 34 minutes. *

Day 2. <

Day 3. Jaua cutting down trees, 7 :40 a.m. to 1 2 : 1 3 p.m. Sua cut-
ting down trees 8:02 a.m. to 12:08 p.m.

Days 4-11. Timber left to dry.

Day 12. Jaua and Sua sorting timber and fencing 7:58 a.m. to
12:15 p.m. and 2:05 p.m. to 4:06 p.m. Several pauses
for total of 39 minutes. Sale and Sua's wife sorting
timber and burning rubbish 7:58 a.m. to 11 :55 a.m. and
2:05 p.m. to 3:16 p.m. Pauses for a total of 23 minutes.

Day 13.

Day 14. Jaua, Sua and Kalal fencing 8 :08 a.m. to 1 2 :57 p.m. Jaua
and Sua marking allotments 2:25 p.m. to 3:31 p.m.
Pauses for 23 minutes. Sale, Sua's wife and a young girl
clearing ground 8:12 a.m. to 12:24 p.m. Pauses for 16
minutes.

Day 15. Jaua, Sua and three youths cleared away stones 9 :02 a.m.
to 1 1 :43 a.m. The two women brought along taro
shoots.

Day 16. Jaua and Sua brought banana suckers.

Day 17. Raining heavily.

Day 18. Jaua planted banana suckers 8:02 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. and
2:12 p.m. to 3:45 p.m. Sua planted banana suckers
11 :03 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. and 1 :50 p.m. to 3:04 p.m.

Day 19. Sale and Sua's wife planted taro shoots from about 8:15
a.m. to noon. Very wet.

Day 20. Sale, assisted by Jaua's brother's daughter, planted taro
shoots and other vegetables 8:14 a.m. to 11:50 a.m.
Sua's wife planted taro shoots 8:20 a.m. to 11 :55 a.m.
The two other women, having finished all Sale's taro,
helped Sua's wife 2:04 p.m. to 4:23 p.m. Pauses for 31
minutes.

Day 21 . Kalal's wife planted her allotment 8 :02 a.m. to 12 :04 p.m.

10 Provinse, passim. u Black wood (1935), 27-9.

PATTERNS OF LABOR 97

This listing of hours spent in working a garden does not, of
course, indicate how the remaining hours of the days listed were
occupied, so that no idea of the balancing of labor and leisure is
given. Yet it does show a record of consistent application to the
task in hand, and a willingness to work for a sanctioned and es-
sential end, that makes the point with which we are here con-
cerned. 12

We may also consider further illustrations of this quantitative
approach, Here we see again not only the amount of labor an
individual performs, but, when the analysis of the work done by
different persons and family groups is tabulated, we can sense
the variation in the degree to which members of the same society
apportion their time to various tasks. Tetiev's chart of daily work
performed by five Hopi men between August 7 and November
12, 1933, 13 indicates the effectiveness of the technique:

AT^-

Total

Herd-

House

Wood

Herd-

Cf/-

Indi-

ing

Corn

Bean

Melon

build-

haul-

ing

lane-

days

vidual

sheep

fields

patches patches

ing

horses *

ous

W^or^

noted

9*2

9/^

14V^

3J-3

; 3

3/2

4**

14H

9J-2

1>2

2> 2

5>2

10>i

btals

110

66*2

7^2

: 23

37>

16>i

383

* 1 his dors not include the routine care of horses.

t 'I his man kepi no sheep

** Stated probablv to be the laziest man in Oraibi.

Foster's analysis of the activities of eight families in Tzin-
tzuntzan, on the basis of records kept over two months, demon-
strates another type of insight this approach can yield. The charts
he gives, which are in too great detail to permit reproduction
here, show not only range of variation in work done, but also
how differently, in the same community, different families can
order their work-patterns one tending toward specialization,
another encompassing many activities; one, as a family, having
a tradition of hard work, another being marked by their avoid-
ance of effort. 14

Such studies, though still not numerous enough to permit us

12 Hogbin (1938-9), 291-6. u Foster (1948), 153-6 and Ta-

13 Tctiev, 196. ble 23.

98 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

to draw more than tentative conclusions, show, first of all, how
this quantitative approach to the problem of labor in non-indus-
trial societies brings into focus the effort put into the productive
processes as can no other type of material, and how fallacious is
the assumption that "primitive" man shirks labor.

THE AMOUNT of work done by individuals in nonliterate societies
can also be studied by considering areas worked or amounts of
goods produced. Here, again, the data in hand are slight, but
some significant facts can be assembled. Yams are the principal
food crop of the inhabitants of Umor, a settlement of the semi-
Bantu Yako of eastern Nigeria. The population of this village in
1935 was estimated at something under 11,000, of whom about
1,750 were adult males. Some 40 out of the 47 square miles in-
cluded in its territory is available for cultivation, but since
worked land rarely extends far from the paths that thread the
bush, no large proportion of this is farmed.

The yams are planted in rows of hills which run straight across
the rectangular gardens. This makes it possible to obtain fairly
accurate estimates of the number of hills per plot, and of the
average yield. Computing the sizes of these rectangular gardens
by pacing off their boundaries, it was calculated that the average
area of the farms of 97 men later shown to be a representative
sample was approximately 1/2 acres. The number of yam-hills
in such an area was 2,440, planted and cared for by a "repre-
sentative" household group consisting of a man, two wives, and
three or four children. The mean yield was 2,645 yams, the har-
vests ranging from the "exceptionally low" figure of 235 to a
maximum of 11,410.

The labor involved in production on this scale can be realized
when it is indicated that, in addition to caring for their yams, the
women grow coco-yams, corn, pumpkins, okra, three varieties
of beans, sugar-cane, and peppers; while the men, who clear the
fields, also plant and tend gourds, cassava, and ground-nuts ( pea-
nuts). When harvested the yams are tied in stacks, which is any-
thing but easy work. In 1935, the totals for yams of all sizes
"ranged from 350 in the case of a young man farming for the first

PATTERNS OF LABOR 99

time to 19,700, the harvest of an exceptionally large household
with a farm of 8 acres." In addition to farming activities, the men
gather palm-kernels from their trees, while their wives and chil-
dren crack the nuts and help extract the oil. 15 Hence it is appar-
ent that this Nigerian people, as it is in the case of the South
African Pondo, where the women work gardens averaging 2.3
acres, 10 are no strangers to hard and continual labor. These in-
stances again demonstrate that, when working within the pat-
terns set by tradition and for objectives whose validity is ac-
ceptable to them, nonliterate folk are capable of sustained
productivity of no mean order.

Data are also available on the quantities of wild rice harvested
in the region of the Great Lakes of North America. In 1864 three
Chippewa groups, with a total population of 3,966, gathered
5,000 bushels. This is a seasonal activity. In addition, they mar-
keted a large quantity of valuable furs, produced 150,000 pounds
of maple sugar, and grew considerable crops of potatoes and
maize. An observer, writing in 1820, said: "One family ordinarily
makes about five sacks of rice (5 bushels); but those who are
industrious sometimes make twenty-five though this is very
rare." At Pelican Lake, Wisconsin, "they gather about twelve or
fifteen bushels per family. They could gather more if they did
not spend so much time feasting and dancing every day and
night they are here for the purpose of gathering." Yet despite the
daily interludes of recreation, the quantities of wild rice gath-
ered are not unimpressive. It must be remembered, too, that the
gathering of the crop had to fall into a rhythm of timeliness, for
the rice could not be allowed to become so ripe that the grains
fell off the stalks into the water, while on the other hand it was
of no use if harvested too soon. 17

THE CO-OPERATIVENESS that characterizes the activities of non-
literate peoples constitutes one of the most striking aspects of
their patterns of labor. Co-operative work is done by groups of
all sizes, and comprehends all kinds of tasks. It is obvious that

lf ' Fordo (1937), passim. 17 Jenks, 1074-5, 1078.

10 Hunter, 72-3, 87.

1OO ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

the family, the primary social unit in every society, must be a
co-operative institution. The community as a whole can equally
be regarded as a co-operative unit. Among the Nuer of East
Africa, for instance, ". . . the members of various segments of a
village have close economic relations and ... all the people of
a village have common economic interests, forming a corporation
which owns its particular gardens, water-supplies, fishing-pools
and grazing grounds; which herds its cattle in a compact camp
in the drought, and operates jointly in defense, in herding, and
in other activities; and in which, especially in the smaller villages,
there is much co-operation in labour and sharing of food." 18

But it is not co-operation of this broad kind that is meant in
the present context. Here we refer to that sort of co-operation
which acts as a factor in furthering the productive processes
the voluntary association of a group of men or women whose
objective is the completion of a specific, definitely limited task,
with which they are simultaneously concerned. Co-operative
work organizations of this kind, free or compulsory, temporary
or permanent, organized or informal, are found everywhere in
the nonliterate world. Some of the many available examples may
be called upon to document the point.

The West African type of co-operative agricultural work that
has been preserved among the peasants of Haiti may be taken
as a first illustration. Essentially, it is a means by which the Hai-
tian gets the heavy work of clearing his fields accomplished
quickly enough to permit him to get his planting finished at the
proper time. For were he compelled to clear his lands by his own
effort, the planting season would have come and gone before he
could finish the task; as it is, the work is done in a day or two,
and he can go on with the next step.

A working party is organized when a person having a field to
be cleared passes the word about that he wishes to have a corn-
bite, as such a group is termed, come to do the work. At the same
time the host prepares food for a feast. He slaughters an animal
if the working party is large and the fare provided is to be elab-
orate, or contents himself with providing only a meal of cereals,
plantains, and the like if he can afford nothing better. As the
workers gather, their labor is supervised by one individual who
sees to it that the pace is adequate to get the work done in the

18 Evans-Pritchard (1940), 92.

PATTERNS OF LABOR 1O1

time at hand, and that there are not too many shirkers. The
workers, each with his hoe, form a line, and there is always at
least one, sometimes two and, in a very large combite, three
drums to mark the rhythm for the songs and to set the beat for
the hoes. The stimulus of this group effort on the men is appar-
ent in the results of their labor. In a single afternoon a field of
several acres can be completely denuded of the growth of the
dry season by a group that numbers about sixty-five workers.

The festive nature of the undertaking is underlined by the feast
that comes as darkness falls. The one who has supervised the
work also supervises the distribution of food, to make certain
that the choicest tidbits and the largest portions go to the men
who came earliest and worked most steadily. Where a wealthy
man gives an elaborate combite, the hard worker may on oc-
casion find a few small coins at the bottom of his dish as he fin-
ishes his food. That some come late and shirk their share of the
labor is likewise not overlooked when the food is distributed.
Should a man gain the reputation that such conduct is habitual
with him, his fellows will show little enthusiasm in helping him
clear his field if it be necessary for him to ask their aid. 19

In West Africa, the region from which the ancestors of the
Haitians were derived, work of all kinds is carried on co-oper-
atively. The dokpwe of Dahomey not alone permits projects of
considerable dimensions, such as the building of walls for large
houses and compounds and the thatching of roofs, to be accom-
plished in manageable time. By affording a means whereby large
fields can be hoed rapidly, it provides an economic foundation
for the convention of this polygynous society that every son-in-
law must from time to time perform a task of some magnitude
for the father of each of his wives. 20 An identical function is that
filled by a similar type of co-operative work among the Lobi
tribes and by the egbe work-group of the Nupe. 21 To return to
the co-operative patterns of Dahomey, we may take an instance
of but one of the several Dahomcan crafts, the iron-workers.
Each forge here represents a kind of a co-operative society. At
any one time all members of a forge will be working on the iron
of one man. The product of this labor hoes, let us say will
belong to the one whose iron was forged, and he will sell these

10 Hcrskovits (1937), 70-6. 21 Labouret (1931), 264-6; Nadel

20 Herskovits (1938), I, 71-5. (1942), 248-251.

1O2 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

hoes in the market for his personal gain. While disposing of these
he works the iron of each of his fellow iron-workers in turn, until
the cycle swings round to him again, and the process is repeated
with his iron, acquired with part of the proceeds from the sale
of his hoes, again in the forge. 22

In the Cross River area already discussed, the co-operative
work which annually clears the paths to the fields of the Yako
is compulsory. A day or two sees the task finished; those who do
not do their part are fined. To carry on certain farming opera-
tions clearing and planting work-parties are arranged by
agreement with the head of the patrilineal descent group. Parties
of this kind work during the mornings of the days on which mar-
kets are held "non-farming" days, as these are termed and
each man is obligated to answer the summons and perform a
morning's labor. A dozen or more men can clear "a moderate
section" of land in a morning. 2 " Among the Tallensi of the North-
ern Territories of the Gold Coast fishing is carried on co-oper-
atively. The various pools are exploited in this manner not only
because it is held to be a most efficient method, but also because
of certain considerations of prestige. 21 House-building, a diffi-
cult and prolonged operation, could not be successfully accom-
plished among the North African Berbers of Kabylie were it not
for the co-operative labor of fellow-villagers of the builder, as
well as of the members of his family. 25

The East African Kikuyu (Gikuyu) employ two types of co-
operative effort when weeding gardens. One is an arrangement
in terms of which four or five men, working together, care for
the fields of each other. The other is the work-bee, whereby the
task is done in a festive spirit of common endeavor, and food
and beer are freely given to make the occasion more enjoyable.

If a stranger happens to pass by at this time of enjoyment
after labour he will have no idea that these people who are
now singing, dancing and laughing merrily, have completed
their day's work. For after they have cleaned off the dust
which they got from the fields, they look, in all respects, as
though they have been enjoying themselves the whole day.
This is why most . . . Europeans have erred by ... not
realizing that the African in his own environment does not

22 Herskovits (1938), I, 75-6. 24 Fortes (1937), 138-40.

23 Fordo ( 1937 ) , 39-40. 25 Maunier, passim.

PATTERNS OF LABOR 1 Og

count hours or work by the movement of the clock, but
works with good spirit and enthusiasm to complete the tasks
before him.*

The Lovedu of eastern South Africa have two types of co-
operative agricultural work-groups the lejema, a more informal
one, and the khilebe (from jebe, a hoe), a local aggregate that
in recent times has reinterpreted its earlier form into "ploughing
partnerships." For the lejema, beer is brewed by the women, who
are more effectively organized for the purpose than are the men
who hoe; for the smaller khilebe no beer is provided. The social
aspect of the first is outstanding, while in the second economic
ends are stressed. But in both, "the value of mutual helpfulness
and the necessity of minimizing the self in relation to the ends
of others" is paramount. 27 In Central and South Africa numerous
other instances of the same phenomenon are to be encountered
co-operation in Congo fishing, in South African Bantu herding,
and in hunting operations of the Bushmen.

Co-operative labor is met with at every turn in aboriginal
North America. It is described in these words by a native Hidatsa
woman, recounting the farming operations of her girlhood:

The . . . day after the corn was plucked, we gave a husking
feast. . . . Word had been sent beforehand that we were
going to give a husking feast, and the invited helpers soon
appeared. . . . For the most part these were young men
from nineteen to thirty years of age, but a few old men
would probably be in the company; and these were wel-
comed and given a share in the feast. There might be
twenty-five or thirty of the young men. They were paid for
their labor with the meat given them to eat; and each car-
ried a sharp stick on which he skewered the meat he could
not eat, to take home. JS

The elaborate arrangements to safeguard the interests of all in
the communal buffalo-hunts of the Plains Indians are well
known; in the case of the Flathead, who lived on the western
border of this area, a hunt of this kind was tantamount to a
"major cavalry engagement" and occupied most of the able-

20 Kenyatta, 59-60. 2S G. L. Wilson, 43.

27 Krigc and Krige, 52-6.

104 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

bodied men of the tribe for an entire winter. So great was the
sense of combined effort that even if a member of an expedition
had been unsuccessful, meat was given him by his comrades so
that he would not return empty-handed. 29

In the Southwest, co-operative agricultural work is found in
both the eastern and the western Pueblos. In Taos, kinsfolk co-
operate in agricultural labor, helpers being given their dinners
and suppers; co-operation is also found in house-building, in
rabbit-drives, and, in earlier times, in deer-drives. 30 Assistance
in the fields is given a Zuni man by the fellow-members of his
clan or fraternity, recompense taking the form of "an evening
meal after the return from the fields each day by the family for
whom they work." 31 Among the Hopi, co-operative work is car-
ried on by three kinds of organizations: those that derive from
membership in a family, clan, or society; the women's bean-
planting groups; and the inter-village working parties. Springs
are cleared by co-operative labor, and agricultural work is car-
ried on co-operatively, while village groups are at times organ-
ized for the construction of houses and, in recent years, for road-
building. 32 In California, instances of co-operative work include
the intertribal antelope-drives in which the Yokuts and their
neighbors participated, "circles that must have been many miles
in diameter at the start"; the deer-drives and bear-hunts organ-
ized by the Maidu; or the reciprocal group labor of Yurok kins-
men in house-building. 33 Farther north, an elaborate system of
communal work for building houses also prevailed among the
Haida. 34

No less rich is the testimony from the Pacific islands. Tasks
which took more man-power than a single family could provide
were completed in Mangaia with the aid of working-bees. Here
again, aside from the pleasure of meeting acquaintances, the only
reward was a feast, in which the family provided so generously
that the workers often carried food away. 35 On Tonga an in-
stance is cited of communal fishing where 40 specialists directed
the efforts of more than 1,000 people in one of these group en-
terprises. 36 When it is necessary in Tanga to have large quantities
of food ready for some special occasion, this is cared for by a

29 Turney-High, 115ff., 120. 33 Kroeber, 528-9, 40&-10, 39.

30 Parsons (1936a), 18, 19, 56. 84 Murdock, 5.

31 Stevenson, 350. 35 Hiroa ( 1934), 130.
82 Beaglehole (1937), 27-31. 86 Gifford (1929), 146.

PATTERNS OF LABOR 105

program of co-operative work in the fields. Since all crops ma-
ture at the same time, it thus becomes possible to provide the
great quantities required for such an elaborate rite as a funeral
feast. 37 All the men in a Malekulan village gather to work for
one another in turn, preparing the ground for gardens. Even
those who belong to neighboring villages come, and all receive
presents of pigs, yams, tobacco, and other goods. Their host joins
them elsewhere as an ordinary worker the next day. Certain types
of Malekulan fishing which involve the use of poison or are done
by trapping the fish in lagoons across which fences are built can,
indeed, only be carried on co-operatively. 38 Canoes are built in
Bougainville by co-operative labor, as are houses, and no man
refuses such help to a friend. The expected return is a reciprocal
willingness to aid when called on, while, as usual, the one who
benefits from the labor makes a feast in this case a small one
to mark the completion of the work. 39 "Communal labor" in the
Trobriands as opposed, from the point of view of complexity of
arrangements, to "organized labor" figures in many places in
the production cycle. It is used in building living-huts and store-
houses, in transport, in certain forms of industrial work, and
sometimes in fishing. As in Africa, it makes possible the fulfill-
ment of duties toward one's relatives-in-law; as elsewhere gen-
erally, it is used in agriculture. 40

It is understandable that the Australian horde or band must
have constituted a permanent co-operating unit, but for certain
kinds of hunting and fishing operations, two or three entire
hordes of the Daly River tribes of the north join forces. These,
by custom, are well organized, and the return enjoyed by each
group is safe-guarded by well-recognized methods of dividing
the catch. 11 Similarly, among the Yir-Yoront the best results in
hunting and fishing are obtained by the co-operative efforts of
groups of men ranging in number from a few individuals to
whole tribes. Here the kill and the catch are divided among those
participating in these tasks, again "according to well established
usages." 4L>

Indonesia also offers instances of co-operation, one of which,
taken from the report already cited concerning production among

: < 7 Bc>ll, 307-08. 40 Malinowski (1922), 159-61.

aH Deacon, 180, 189-91. 41 Stunner, 18.

:m Blackwood (1935), 450. 4 - Sharp, 37.

I0f) ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

the Siang Dyak of Borneo, must suffice. Two forms of the co-
operative working party are found among this people; pure la-
bor exchange, termed hando, and that in which a man of means,
not wishing to return the services given him, announces a work-
ing-bee called haivch, where he feasts and liberally provides
drinks for those who participate. These two types of "exchange"
and "feast" labor are used not only for clearing, planting, watch-
ing, and harvesting the ricefields, but also when a man must
have help to bring in a dugout canoe or a large memorial pillar
from the forest, or in house-building, or in making a coffin or
digging a grave. w

Though the wide distribution of co-operative labor is thus ap-
parent, little research has been done on the problem of its per
capita effectiveness when compared with the accomplishment of
an individual working alone. The data from Wogeo, already con-
sidered, throw some light on this problem. The clearing and
planting of the garden belonging to Jaua required 79 hours' work
from the men and 60 from the women. On the other hand, a
garden half the size of this, worked by a smaller family group
took 58 hours of labor on the part of the men and 30 on that of
the women. Hogbin's comment is cogent:

So far as the men are concerned, this would appear to estab-
lish the truth of the opinion, often expressed by the natives,
that collaboration results in a speeding up of the work. "A
man who toils by himself goes along as he pleases: he works
slowly and pauses every time he feels like having a smoke.
. . . But when two men work together each tries to do the
most. One man thinks to himself, 'My back aches and I feel
like resting, but my friend there is going on: I must go on
too, or I shall feel ashamed/ The other man thinks to him-
self, 'My arms are tired and my back is breaking, but I must
not be the first to pause/ Each man strives to do the most,
and the garden is finished quickly." 44

One study has analyzed the cost of voluntary as against paid
labor in the quasi-pecuniary society of the Popoluca of eastern
Mexico. In this case, a house, the framework of which had been
constructed, was daubed by two groups, one voluntary and only

43 Provinse, 85-7. 44 Hogbin (1938-9), 296.

PATTERNS OF LABOR 107

provided with food while working, the other hired for the pur-
pose and receiving money payments. The comparative figures
are as follows:

Communal Hired

Work Help

Man hours available 120 54

Square feet completed 96 150

Time in minutes per square foot 75 20

Total labor cost in pesos 30.00 8.00

Cost per square foot in pesos .32 0.5

Of interest here is the fact that despite the greater cost of volun-
tary work, the prestige factor inherent in the giving of a feast
compensates for the lessened efficiency and the lower return. 45

Whatever the case, it is not to be thought that altruism runs
so rife in motivating the co-operative work of non-industrialized
peoples that considerations of self-interest are lacking. It should,
in fact, be quite evident from the instances cited that men and
women work for others so they may have in return the labor of
these others when they are in need of it. A case in point is the
attitude of the Papuan Keralai man, who welcomes other men
when they come and make gardens on his tract. Not only will
his own garden be the more easily worked; but, for the rest, there
will be ample reciprocal opportunity later to make his field on
the land of these others. 4 '' Even more striking is the situation in
the archipelago of Palau, where patterns of co-operative work
are of great importance, not only as concerns the productive sys-
tem as a whole, but as a mechanism which aids a family group
to attain more wealth and thus improve its position in society.
This mechanism, called omulu'ul, is described by Barnett in the
following terms:

In conformance with it, a woman's brothers always stand
prepared to help her husband in any way they can. If he
wishes to go fishing, or if he is building a house, or if he
needs labor in any way, he simply has to notify these broth-
ers-in-law and they are expected to come to his assistance.

Yet co-operation here has a realistic aspect that is perhaps found,
but not always noted, in other societies:

45 Foster (1942), 29-34. 4tl Williams, 213.

1O8 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

It is obvious that this system is open to abuses in the sense
that men who are obliged to serve and are eager for money 4T
will do far more than is necessary in their own self-interest.
When this happens . . . men deliberately and assiduously
press their services and food upon their nieces' and sisters'
husbands in order to heavily obligate them for a money re-
turn. The pressure exerted upon a man may be entirely un-
solicited and even unwanted, but he is in no position to
refuse it. If he did, he would be severely criticized by every-
one and in particular by those who were plying him. He
would be regarded as an undesirable brother-in-law and his
reluctance to play the game might finally lead to a divorce. 48

We should, however, likewise not commit the error of thinking
nonliterate societies to be groups among whom competitive effort
is unknown in conjunction with this co-operative work. Even
where co-operation enters as a mechanism for survival, as it
sometimes actually does, we find that within any given work
group, competition for the prestige of being the best worker is
seldom absent, while one group may compete with another in a
spirit of rivalry that is not invariably of the friendliest. This co-
operative effort, moreover, does not exclude individualistic en-
deavor. In the productive activities of nonliterate folk, especially
where the concept of wealth is well developed and there is com-
petition for the attainment of possessions and the prestige that
accrues from them, individualism can assume a place of some
importance. Co-operative work, furthermore, is not always volun-
tary. Group labor, performed for chiefs and priests by command,
as is the case in many of the islands of the Pacific, is by no means
unknown. Finally, to view the phenomenon of co-operation from
all angles, it should be indicated that there is no society which
does not know both the shirker and the man who, by predispo-
sition, abstains from co-operating with his fellows, preferring to
go his way alone.

47 For a discussion of Palauan Ch. III.
money, see below, 258-62, taken 48 Barnett, 59.

from Ritzenthaler, or cf. Barnett,

CHAPTER VI

INCENTIVES AMD REWARDS

THE MOTIVATIONS underlying work, in terms of the rewards men
seek for the efforts they put forth, have been accorded much at-
tention by economic theorists. Here the hedonistic approach, de-
fining a delicate balancing of pleasures and pains, has largely fig-
ured. In many discussions of the problem by economists, it has
been implicitly accepted that labor is distasteful to man; that
men do as little as possible, and avoid as much of it as they can
contrive to escape. Conversely, it is taken for granted that to
make men work, the rewards must be as great as possible; and
that these rewards customarily thought of as pecuniary in na-
ture must always be held before the worker like a carrot before
the nose of a donkey, so that he will endeavor to attain for the
future what is not possible for him to enjoy at present.

There is no reason to deny the proposition that men do not
find pleasure in unremitting labor that taxes their strength un-
duly, or that they find no satisfaction in exertion for ends that are
not clear to them, or for which they cannot see any meaningful
return. But it is important to understand that to accept this prop-
osition in no way frees us of the need to recognize the fact that
the meaning of labor, the concept of hard work, and the terms in
which recompense can be defined can vary greatly. For this very
reason, it is only by acquiring some comprehension of the place
of labor in other than the industrialized societies of Europe and
America that we can understand how specialized an interpreta-
tion of the concept enters into the thinking of all of us, whether
we are economists or not.

It is by no means only because of the preoccupation of econ-
omists with the labor market, and the measurement in pecuniary

109

110 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

terms of the incentives which bring a man to accept one job and
reject another, that we find it difficult to achieve this under-
standing. The neglect by anthropologists of the factor of labor
incentives, except in the case of a few students, is noteworthy.
The reasons for this neglect are, however, not too difficult to
understand. For one thing, the element of degree of specializa-
tion enters. We have already seen how difficult it is to apply the
concept of the entrepreneur to non-pecuniary, nonlitcrate so-
cieties. In an analagous manner, we find it is equally difficult to
analyze the motivations that actuate the worker in the sense
of wage-worker or white-collar employee in these less complex
economic settings. Here, except where the factors of specializa-
tion in political or religious activities intervene, workers as such,
in the accepted sense of men and women who are economically
specialized in that they depend on wages for a livelihood, are
practically non-existent. Nor are exceptions to this statement, as
we shall shortly see, of any great significance in terms of the cus-
tomary approach of economists to the problems of labor eco-
nomics.

The second principal reason why anthropologists have so often
disregarded this important question follows from what has just
been indicated. Aside from their survival aspect, which in this
context is obvious, the motivations to labor lie in the realm of
values. Now the study of the value-systems of any people is one
of the most delicate and difficult operations in the entire range of
anthropological field research. It requires a sensitive balancing
of what people say against what they do. In a very real sense,
it is not unlike the task of the linguist, who, working from the
speech-habits of a people, inductively analyzes out the grammar
of a language that has never been written, but whose rules have
nonetheless been followed for generations by speakers who have
never realized their existence. In a similar way, the grammar of
every philosophical system in which the values of a people, eco-
nomic and non-economic, figure as guides to conduct, must be
inducted from observing their behavior and recording their con-
cepts of the world in which they live. Like any grammar, a value-
system lies beneath the level of consciousness and only finds
verbal expression when some element in it is challenged.

Why men work, then, can only be studied objectively by ana-
lyzing the situations in which they actually do perform their

INCENTIVES AND REWARDS 111

various tasks, and analyzing the reasons they give for working as
they do. From this, we move to hypotheses concerning the under-
lying system of values that gives meaning to the rewards which
labor brings to the worker. In a pecuniary society that has a labor
market, a monetary unit of measurement exists which permits the
economist to calculate choices between alternatives, and thus to
draw conclusions as to motivations. From here, the social psy-
chologist and industrial management specialist can move to test
these conclusions. But for the anthropologist, lacking the pecu-
niary unit of measurement even in those societies where least
common denominators of economic values are present, such tech-
niques are not feasible. His probing for motivations to labor must
be in the more general field of overall value-systems. And since
the study of values is an area of anthropological research where
relatively Kttle work has been carried on, the data on the eco-
nomic values that provide the rewards for labor held worth
striving for have been overlooked, together with the evaluations
that motivate behavior in other facets of experience.

Enough is known about the matter, however, to permit a cer-
tain amount of projection of our own attitudes toward work
against the broader screen of the reactions that mark the orien-
tations of other peoples. We become aware, for example, that the
notion of a vacation is unique to Euroamerican society. That is,
other peoples do not recognize the distinction we draw between
the expenditure of time and effort in painful activity "work"
and that which goes into pleasurable activity, or "non-work/' It
needs no demonstration to prove that vacations, as they are ac-
tually enjoyed, by no means represent a cessation of effort. On
the contrary, vacations are largely considered as periods when
an unrestricted expenditure of energy is permitted. However,
and this is the important point, the expenditure of energy during
a vacation is always in channels chosen solely by the person con-
cerned. A vacation, that is, provides a release from the applica-
tion of effort to tasks that are imposed by others.

Whatever the case, the data from nonliterate societies make it
clear that considerations other than those of economic best ad-
vantage dictate labor and thus production. Thus among the Lobi
tribes of West Africa, the small proportion of foragers to the
total population of which they form a part is striking. For dis-
tricts near the Volta River it is as follows:

Canton Number of forgers Number of inhabitants

Kpu6re 1 2,144

Bati6 (south) 22 7,041

Bati6 (north) 8 3,408

Hemkoa _23 7,025

60 19,618

Away from the stream, the numbers are:

Yolonioro 12 5,177

Tioio 2 1,644

Tiankoura 16 7,888

Bouroum-Bouroum 9 3,088

39 17,797

Because the iron-workers are so few a total of 99 out of a popu-
lation of 37,415 local production does not suffice tosupply the
demand for the implements they manufacture. In consequence,
for many years these have had to be imported from neighboring
tribes. 1 An "opportunity" for enterprising forgers is obviously not
lacking in these districts. By harder work or enlarging forges a
market ready at hand could be supplied. It is apparent, however,
that other than economic rewards motivate the iron-workers of
these tribes and cause them to be content with but a part of the
returns they might receive.

ALTHOUGH the economic destinies of nonliterate men are usually
in their own hands, it does not follow that all members of such
groups live under conditions that allow them to dictate the form
their work will take, nor that the phenomenon of working for
wages is unknown. Slavery, as a matter of fact, is widespread in
nonliterate societies. While it was rarely the kind of institution
it became in the Western World in historic times, yet except in
rare instances, the time and energy of the slave was at the dis-
posal of his master even where slavery was mildest.

In societies such as those of pre-European Peru or Mexico, or
in West Africa, where dynastic political control was based on the
exploitation of the great mass of the population, the worker, even

tabouret (1931), 70.

INCENTIVES AND REWARDS llg

where he was not a slave, but a full-fledged member of his com-
munity, was anything but a free agent. And in still other societies,
where the power of rulers was not characterized by the brute
force that marked it in these regions, the existence of socio-
economic classes often made for the control of labor-power by
those in strategic positions. Thus, in Mangaia, when powerful
families had menial work to be done, poorer relatives were called
on to perform these tasks, since they so needed the protection
they received from their patrons that they were forced to accept
what was in essence the status of serfdom. 2 Or again, in Tonga,
we find that compulsory labor has existed since early times. A
kind of corvee system is in operation, administered in the early
days by superior chiefs and today by the government. "It was
no doubt the system by which labor was requisitioned for the
construction of the great royal tombs, the pigeon mounds, the
great trilithons and other works for royal and public purposes."
There seems, indeed, to have been a kind of labor tax, and in-
ferior chiefs sent men two or three times a week to work for those
who had higher rank. 3 Yet taking the nonliterate world in the
large, these cases are not to be regarded as representative, and
for that very reason they stand out against the much larger back-
ground of those societies where the worker is his own master.

Let us briefly consider some of the instances where, despite the
fact that the labor market as found in our economic system is
unknown, the payment of wages for labor is encountered. In the
main, wages in these societies are paid in kind, since in many
instances no money exists as an economic intermediary between
the worker and his reward. Yet whatever form they may take,
wages represent but supplementary gain to members of those
nonliterate societies who earn them. Some groups, it is true, are
to be found where ownership of the means of production is suffi-
ciently concentrated to make it necessary for men and women to
depend upon tasks provided by others for their livelihood, but
this is emphatically the exception. A characteristic reaction to
employment for wages is that set down for the Mexican town of
Mitla, where "You do not work for wages unless you have to." 4
More commonly a worker hires himself out for wages to augment
resources for a special end, or to make available to himself goods

2 Hiroa (1934), 130. 4 Parsons (1936b), 62.

3 Gifford (1929), 181-2.

114 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

of a non-subsistence kind to enhance his social standing, or for
personal gratification.

Outstanding examples of both these principles are to be found
among herding folk, where ambitious young men may strike out
for themselves by caring for the animals of men outside their
own immediate families, receiving in payment a certain number
of the young born to the herds committed to their care. This is
a regular practice among such southeast African herders as the
Zulu and the Ba-Ila, and their more northerly neighbors, as well
as among the camel-herders of the southeastern Sahara. Several
forms of wage-labor, the above-mentioned among them, as found
in one of these South African peoples, the Tswana, have been
carefully described. Here a man hires another to care for his cat-
tle, the rate of payment being determined by mutual agreement.
Usually a heifer is given him, though the owner of the herd may
also provide food, blankets, and other necessities. The herdman
may perform other services for his employer, such as digging a
well, but his primary engagement is to exercise all care in watch-
ing the herd, and he is responsible for any losses incurred be-
cause of neglect of his duties.

Payment of wages by labor contract is also found among the
Tswana. Basically, this is not unlike the systems of co-operative
labor described in the preceding chapter. "Those coming . . .
are paid ... in beer, thick milk, ... or tobacco, sometimes in
meat, porridge, or salt." This is sufficient if the work is completed
the first day, but if the task is not finished, they will come the
next morning, if "there is more beer or whatever commodity has
been used as payment." They can be paid in advance; should an
ox die, and its owner fears it will rot because there is so much of
it, he sends word that meat is available. Those willing to work
for him at some future time will come and get portions of it. Or
a woman "may in the same way hire labour in advance by selling
beer or some similar commodity." Should a person, when called
in, fail to perform the day's work for which he thus obligated
himself, he may be brought before the court. However, the re-
sulting threat of social disapproval, manifested in the refusal of
others to work for such a person when he is in need of their la-
bor, usually cares for any possible evasion of contract. 5

5 Schapera (1938), 253-5.

INCENTIVES AND REWARDS 115

Gainful employment of this type is also common among such
a Siberian reindeer-herding people as the Chuckchee, where the
poorer men save their own herds in winter by working for their
more wealthy neighbors, who pay them with skins and animals
for slaughter. -Light is thrown on the manner in which consid-
erations of self-interest become apparent where work even on as
simple a level as this is done for others by the fact that these
temporary helpers habitually leave their employers in the spring
before the calving season, since it is at this period of the year
that the large herds prove most troublesome. Some Chuckchee
families are so poor, however, that they own almost no herds at
all, and such people enter the service of the more wealthy for
extended periods. They receive supplies of meat and skins in pay-
ment for their services, though they must furnish their own pack-
animals when they move from one camp to another. If their
employer is pleased with their work, a family living under this ar-
rangement receives about ten fawns annually, in addition to the
subsistence return mentioned. In the course of five favorable
years, these animals and their increase give such a family a herd
of some hundred reindeer, sufficient to permit them to attain a
position of independence.' 1

Another instance 1 of how pay in kind may be welcomed by
those in need of supplementary income to tide over hard times
in this instance in a non-herding society is to be found in the
practices connected with aboriginal methods of preserving
squashes among the llidatsa. Once the squashes were harvested
and heaped onto the drying forms,

The women of the family made a feast, cooking much food
for the purpose; some old women were then invited to come
and cut up the squashes with knives, into slices to dry. We
regarded these old women as hired, and I remember that in
my father's family we hired sometimes eight, sometimes ten,
and sometimes only six. . . . The end slices we thought less
valuable than those from the middle of the squash; and . . .
they . . . were taken home by the old women. . . . About
three sacks of these inferior slices would be carried home at
one time by an old woman worker. 7

Bogoras, 82-3. 7 G. L. Wilson, 68-71.

Il6 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

That payment, aside from the feast, was in terms of inferior por-
tions of the squash, is perhaps significant as indicating how the
need of these old women was used to further the economic inter-
est of their employer. This is in accord with the postulates of
economists regarding the manner in which the entrepreneur (a
term that is, of course, not strictly applicable in this case ) may be
expected to act in accordance with the dictates of his own best
economic self-interest.

As we have seen in discussing co-operative labor, food pay-
ments for work are common, though here there may in addition
be an anticipated reward in the future benefits from reciprocal
labor. An instance is given from Samoa where the chief sum-
moned women who were experts in making floor-mats; but, as
in parallel situations so frequently encountered in the South Seas,
the remuneration of the workers was no more than food and
lodging while they engaged in their tasks. 8 Among the Siang
Dyak of Borneo, in addition to the two types of co-operative la-
bor that have been described, work may also be done for wages,
though this is not commonly found. When a man is too ill to care
for his own rice field, he seeks someone outside his reciprocal
work group, and pays him from one-third to two-thirds of the
produce from the field, depending upon the amount of labor in-
volved. Where this is not possible because of the economic straits
of the sick man, his field will be worked by his fellows, even
though his illness has prevented him from carrying out his part-
nership agreement for co-operative work. He will be expected
later, however, either to turn over a portion of the crop he har-
vests, or, when he recovers, to give additional time to the plots
of those who cared for his field. 9

An interesting form of deferred payment for work, which may
be thought of as a kind of old-age insurance, occurs among the
Daly River tribes of Australia. Here provision is made for later
maturity by accrued services expended on older kinsmen. These
services are performed as obligations, and those who contribute
this labor will later be the beneficiaries of the labor of young men
of the next generation, who will then stand in the same relation-
ship to them. Thus the food, tobacco, clothes, hair belts, orna-
ments, and other goods a young man has given are eventually

8 Hiroa ( 1930 ) , 248. 9 Provinse, 87.

INCENTIVES AND REWARDS 117

returned to him in a steady stream when he is no longer able to
produce them. 10

THE VALUES which dictate the attitudes of non-industrialized folk
toward their work can also be analyzed by employing another
approach. We may consider the implications of those precepts
that are used to teach the young the role of work as the ideal of
the "good way of life" finding expression in the sayings of a peo-
ple. This procedure has its shortcomings, to be sure, since such
data are most general in character, and often mirror idealized
social sanctions rather than actual practices. A wealth of data of
this type has been collected, but only three examples need be
given here one from North America and two from West Africa.
Young Omaha Indians were told by their elders: "If one does
not make arrows, he will borrow moccasins, leggings, and robes,
and be disliked by persons from whom he borrows." The instruc-
tion continued:

If you are not industrious, when a herd of buffalo is slaugh-
tered you may come across a young man whom you may
consider insignificant (i.e., of no position in the tribe) but
who has killed a buffalo by his own energy; you will look
longingly at the best portions of the meat, but he will give
them to another who is known to be thrifty and generous
and you will go away disappointed.

An elderly informant, recounting the instruction he had received

when a vouth said:

I was told ... a man must be energetic, industrious. . . .
An industrious man wears leggings of well-dressed deer-
skin; his robe is of the finest dressed buffalo skin and he
wears earrings. ... If a man is not industrious and ener-
getic, he will not be able to entertain other people. A lazy
man will be envious when he sees men of meaner birth in-
vited to feasts because of their thrift and their ability to en-
10 Stunner, 19.

Il8 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

tertain other people. If you are lazy, nobody will have pleas-
ure in speaking to you. . . . Even when only two or three
are gathered to a feast the energetic and industrious man is
invited. People in speaking of him say: He is pleasant to talk
with, he is easy of approach. Such a man has many to mourn
his death and is long remembered. . . . Such are some of
the things that used to be said by the old to the young men. 11

Proverbs and aphorisms afford especially good insight into the
traditionally correct attitudes of Africans. Comment on the can-
ons of prudence and application is not lacking, while considera-
tion for the worker is not overlooked. The Kru of Liberia, for
instance, say: "Slowness took Tumu's canoes," when pointing out
to a laggard that if, like the mythological Tumu, he docs not
work more energetically, he will lose what he owns. But they
also say: "To be strong, a person must have more than a song to
eat," a proverb that is a man's answer to a reprimand from his
employer for resting while he waits for food to be brought him.
Perseverance is the theme of a saying placed in the mouth of a
small and greedy, but easily caught, river fish: "The blood does
not dry on your bait." Since even young boys can gather in these
fish, the proverb is a reminder much like our own saying: "Make
hay while the sun shines." The need for being adequately pre-
pared for one's work is stressed in the aphorism: "Rice that is
not dry does not come out of the mortar unmashed" and is a com-
ment heard when a man has failed in his task, or spoken to ad-
monish a person who persists in attempting work clearly beyond
his capacities. 12

Still more direct statements concerning the need for work are
found in the sayings of the Pcul and Toucouleur. "Poverty is the
elder daughter of laziness"; "He who stays in bed when he is able
to work, will have to get up when he cannot"; "Dust on the feet
is better than dust on the behind"; "He who cannot work, earns
nothing"; "He who does not work his fields or have someone work
them, him hunger will kill." 13 These few examples from the large
number of proverbs current in African societies show how clearly
the patterns of these cultures stress the need for application if
one is to get on, the righteousness of the man who does his work

11 Fletcher and LaFleche, 331-3. " Gaden, passim.

12 Herskovits and Tagbwe, passim.

INCENTIVES AND REWARDS 11Q

faithfully, the reward of labor and the punishment for laziness,
the necessity for aptitude in a task undertaken and the need for
application to the work in hand.

ATTITUDES toward work are more specifically indicated in those
studies where attention has been paid to this factor in the pro-
ductive process. On the island of Tikopia, the motivation for
labor derives from what Firth terms positive conventions of work:

They include ties of loyalty to him, to neighbours, to bond
friends, to a chief; the concept of labour and its implica-
tions, the explicit recognition of laziness on the one hand
and of the need tor rest on the other.

In addition to these, "There are a number of modes of behaviour
which are conventional in the sense that they generally follow
and are linked up with traditionalized concepts." These include,
first, "those with a positive effect upon work, such as emulation,"
and second, negative factors, "such as the perception of insult,
or the fear of sorcery, which lead to a falling off in productive
effort."

It is made clear that the "labour situation" cannot be inter-
preted simply as a response to a system of reward. "Workers,"
we are told, "are not drawn into an undertaking from a free
reservoir of labour power, their choice determined by the wage-
rates offered; they come from groups attached by definite social
ties to the entrepreneur. Social forces catch up and enmesh the
economic factors in a wider net." The obligations of kinship and
of other ties "can be contrasted with the absence of any other
convention of hiring of labour. Contracting to work for another
person for a reward specified in advance is not a Tikopia custom.
When one person works for another their association is so gov-
erned by canons of etiquette that it assumes the form of partner-
ship in a joint enterprise, and the ultimate reward for the labour
takes on the external form of a gift." Examples of this are found
in such undertakings as the repair of canoes and the extraction of
sago. The matter is well summarized in these terms: a man "is
not given a job because he contributes to the productive fund;

120 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

he makes the contribution because he has accepted the obliga-
tion of the job." 14

Comment by Paulme on the point under consideration here, as
concerns the Dogon of French West Africa, shows how diverse
are the motivations to labor in this society:

There is no doubt but that the primary motive for work is
that of providing subsistence; but the whole of economic life
by no means derives from this drive. The force of tradition,
an appreciation of work well done, the desire for emulation,
the wish to have the approval of his group, even when this
is not expressed all these and many more function in shap-
ing economic activities. It would be most difficult to devise
a single formula that would comprehend all the reasons
which might cause a Dogon to undertake a given task.

Many of these reasons would lodge in the area of prestige-seek-
ing. The fact that successfully completing a certain piece of work
will raise a man in the esteem of his fellows would often be more
important than any economic advantage which might accrue to
him. Even when his own individual desires might lead him to an
economically advantageous course of action, the fact that this
could bring him social disapprobation turns him in another di-
rection. Thus, we find that the need for the esteem of his group
dictates expenditure of food-stuffs which will mark him as a man
of wealth and position and dominates any tendency he might
have to save his resources as a precaution against want. The
festival which marks the end of mourning requires a family to
amass great amounts of food and drink, to be consumed by those
in attendance; yet the reputation for generosity this group will
thus gain more than compensates for the work expended in mak-
ing possible the acquisition of the goods distributed.

It is clear that personal interest, understood as the desire to
realize maximum return with minimum effort, is by no means
the only drive that causes a man to work in this society.
Each person is led, more or less consciously, more or less in-
directly, by the desire for well-being, for wealth, and for
the regard of the entire community. 15

14 Raymond Firth (1939), 145- 15 Translated from Paulme, 19,3-4.

50.

INCENTIVES AND REWARDS 121

Even such a people as the Siriono of Bolivia, who live on the
subsistence level, manifest a variety of reactions to the need to
work. Here, where there is a constant struggle to obtain enough
food for survival, immediate returns are desired against activi-
ties involving a longer-term investment of energy. The acquisi-
tion of food, moreover, so dominates the economic picture that
its availability for a period of time is regarded as affording an
opportunity for relaxation rather than for performing other tasks.
"Labor is not a virtue among the Siriono," says Holmberg:

They are relatively apathetic to work . . . which includes
such distasteful tasks as house-building, gathering firewood,
clearing, planting and tilling of fields. In a quite different
class, however, are such pleasant occupations as hunting,
. . . and collecting . . . , which are regarded more as di-
versions than as work. . . . When food, especially meat, is
plentiful, little work is performed. What people like best
to do at this time is to lie in their hammocks, rest, eat, in-
dulge in sexual intercourse, sleep, play with their children,
be groomed, sing, dance, or drink. Free time is rarely
employed in improving the house, although rain is expected,
or in enlarging a garden plot, although the supply of food is
insecure.

It is of some interest to note that in this society the prestige
drives that have been seen to afford so strong a motivation for
labor in other groupings is at a minimum. "Besides the immediate
desire and necessity for food, the incentives to labor are few."
These are set forth in specific terms, as follows:

When the immediate needs for food have been supplied, a
person is neither much criticized for doing nothing, nor
much praised for occupying his time in constructive labor.
... No prestige is gained by building a better house or a
larger garden, both of which may have to be abandoned in
the next move. It would seem, in fact, that the nomadic
character of the band is the principal reason for not working,
because the results of one's labor can rarely be carried with

1C Holmberg, 41.

122 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

WITH this available information in hand, we may attempt to
point the outstanding similarities and differences between these
societies and ours in the emphasis placed on the balancing of
pleasure and pain as a motivation for work. One may suspect
that as far as the mass of peoples are concerned, whether living
in machine or non-machine societies, life goes on without too
much thought being given to distant aims. One works because
one must; because everyone else works; because it is one's tradi-
tion to work. As among ourselves, labor is performed by non-
literate folk with the expectation of return, and, where work is
done for others, the attitude toward effort appears to be akin
to that with which we are familiar. But as rewards are envisaged,
we have seen how widely they differ in different societies, both in
the forms they take and in the degree to which they act as drives.
Among ourselves, rewards are removed one step from labor by
the fact, noted above, that between the worker and the neces-
sities of life and such luxuries as he can afford is interposed our
ubiquitous pecuniary system. This means that the actual return
for labor must always be translated into something else before
it is directly consumable. In non-industrial societies, the rewards
are direct as witness the fact that wages, where they do exist,
are almost invariably paid in kind.

There is yet another matter involved in our equation: prestige.
Certainly in a vast number of nonliterate societies, as in our own,
the drive for prestige constitutes a powerful psychological factor
in determining economic no less than other forms of behavior.
Among those groups, it is one of the most significant rewards a
man can strive for. Nothing is so heady, nothing so quickly
appreciated, on any level, as the recognition of ability and the
measure of respect and 'enhancement of social standing that
accompanies this recognition. How powerful is this factor in the
development and maintenance of social and economic classes in
many nonliterate societies will be made apparent in later chap-
ters. Here it may be pointed out how, for example, from the
admonition to an Omaha youth that was cited, this same motiva-
tion can operate as an incentive to labor. Such testimony as that
from Australia, where we are told that "while there seems to be

INCENTIVES AND REWARDS 12$

little work for work's sake, there is a real pride in craftsmanship,
and any work is normally well done and brought to completion/' 17
is especially significant, just because it is given for a people
whose economic system is so exceedingly simple. Or again, the
discussion of the bird-snaring industry among the Maori 18 brings
a realization of how many factors involving prestige constitute
real spurs to effort, while lists of occupations giving the relative
degrees of prestige attached to each, as arc available for Tonga 19
and Dahomey, 20 further testify regarding this point.

The prestige that accrues to the hard worker, the fast worker,
the careful worker, the competent worker, is thus a significant
factor in motivating labor in most societies. It is doubtlessly this
drive to excel and to be reputed for excellence in certain crafts
that has stimulated skills that otherwise might only have re-
mained latent. Prestige is therefore to be regarded not only an
important reward for labor, but in itself a factor in encouraging
production. As such, it must have played no inconsiderable part
in the development of traditions for specialization in labor, to the
consideration of which we now turn.

17 Slurp, 37. '"Gifford (1929).

ls Firth ( 1929), 128 if. - Ilerskovits ( 1938), I, 48-50,

CHAPTER VII

DIVISION OF LABOR AND
SPECIALISATION

THAT non-industrialized societies differ most strikingly from
those with machine technologies in the degree to which they
practice division of labor and industrial specialization has been
indicated in an earlier chapter. We shall here consider, in some-
what greater detail, the forms which these aspects of the eco-
nomic order take in nonliterate communities, so as the more
clearly to understand this phase of the economic order of these
cultures.

The terms "division of labor" and "specialization" must them-
selves be given some attention before we proceed with our anal-
yses. In simplest terms, and regarded from the point of view of
the total productive process of a given economic system, the
amount of work required to meet the needs of a people may be
performed indiscriminately by all members of the community; or
this work may be divided according to the sanctions of custom
and the lessons of efficiency learned from earlier generations.
Thus the types of labor performed by members of each sex may
be and, as a matter of fact, are always different. There may, in
addition, be a division of productive function on the basis of age,
or clan affiliation, or hereditary position, or caste, or guild mem-
bership. There may, moreover, also be inter-tribal division of
labor, where natural resources are localized, or where differing
craft traditions have been developed among the peoples who
inhabit a given region.

The term "division of labor," then, is best employed when we
speak of the splitting up of the total amount of effort needed to

124

DIVISION OF LABOR AND SPECIALIZATION 125

keep the economy of a given society operating at its customary
rate of efficiency. Each of the sub-groups whose members per-
form a particular aspect of the work may be regarded as special-
ized in its particular calling, and the kind of labor each performs
in achieving this can be denoted as its "specialization." In this
sense, then, where we might speak of the division of labor be-
tween the sexes, we could in some societies also speak of certain
woman specializing in pottery-making, or of some men in wood-
carving. Or, in a wider sense, we might distinguish the specializa-
tion in fishing of that part of a social group which, let us say,
lived near the sea-coast from the specialization in agricultural
work of its inland members. However, inasmuch as pottery and
wood-carvings, fish and garden produce would all represent
goods desired, acquired, and consumed by members of the
society, the specialized labor of each sub-group concerned with
the production of any one good, or type of good, could be
looked upon as representing to this extent a division of the total
labor necessary to supply all the requirements of the whole.

It is necessary to bear in mind that these meanings of the terms
"division of labor" and "specialization" do not carry the same
significance for economists as they do for many anthropologists
who have been concerned with this phase of the economic life of
nonliterate peoples. In all likelihood, this divergence in meaning
reflects the difference in the complexity of the economies with
which each discipline deals. To economists, interested in the
productive processes of industrial societies, the terms most often
mean that every worker directs his labor toward the production
of a very small part of a particular commodity. In this sense, the
worker becomes specialized not in the production of a certain
good, but of only a portion of that good. What an individual
produces of itself has no utility unless it is incorporated into the
finished product of which it must form a part. This does not
mean that there is no division of labor and specialization as
among entire industries in our society. A craftsman may make an
entire chair, or a wrought-iron lighting fixture, but such crafts-
men are few compared with the number of workers who turn out
chair-legs or fixture-arms, which are later joined to other parts
of the requisite object to make the finished product. For most
economists, however, this difference in type of specialization is
considered implicit and not of great relevance.

126 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Yet it is just such elements of these concepts that have the
most validity for analyzing the economic systems of non-indus-
trialized societies. Only rarely is any division of labor within
an industry or, as it might be termed, subdivision of labor
encountered among nonliterate folk. Such intra-industrial special-
ization would be encountered only in the production of such
larger capital goods as houses, canoes, or fish-weirs. Even here,
it is the rule in such cultures that an arrangement of this sort is
temporary; moreover, each worker devoting himself to a part of
a specific task is most often competent to perform other phases
of the work besides that on which he may at the moment be
engaged. Our use of the terms here will thus have to do with
that kind of division of labor and that specialized direction of
effort that results in the production of commodities or categories
of commodities, but not of parts of commodities.

A further qualification must be made before we proceed. It
is essential for us to recognize that the degree to which division
of labor and specialization are found in industrial activities of
nonliterate peoples, as in the case of all other phases of their
culture, varies from society to society. Thus in groups where the
primary division of labor is along sex lines, every man or woman
not only will know how to do all those things that men or women
habitually do among them, but must be able to do them effi-
ciently. As we move to societies of somewhat greater economic
complexity, we find that certain men may spend a larger propor-
tion of their time than others doing wood-carving or iron-work-
ing, or certain women making pots or weaving cloth; but all the
members of the groups will have some competence in the tech-
niques controlled by those of a given sex. In still other nonliterate
societies, certain men and woman specialize not only in one tech-
nique, but in a certain type of product, as, for instance, where
one woman will devote her time to the production of pots for
everyday use and another make pottery exclusively for religious
rites. It must again be stressed that, except under most unusual
circumstances, we do not find the kind of organization where one
woman characteristically specializes in gathering the clay, an-
other in fashioning it, and a third in firing the pots; or, where
one man devotes himself to getting wood, a second to roughly
blocking out the proportions of a stool or figure, and a third to
finishing it.

DIVISION OF LABOR AND SPECIALIZATION 127

Our discussion of specialization and division of labor in non-
literate societies will document the generalizations that have
been stated, following the order indicated in the preceding para-
graphs. That is, we shall first devote our attention to sex division
of labor, especially important for us since in our own society this
has become so blurred in the process of adjusting our traditions
of labor to the machine that its significance is likely to be over-
looked when our culture alone is considered. We shall then in-
quire into the types of industrial specialization that exist in non-
literate societies and, in this connection, indicate some of the
rare instances where division of labor within a given industrial
pursuit makes the production of a given commodity. Finally, we
shall take into account cases of tribal or regional specialization.

No PHASE of the economic life of nonliterate peoples has attracted
more attention than has sex division of labor, and many attempts
have been made to explain it. Gras, defining "the two chief
concerns of mankind" as "the preservation of the individual and
the perpetuation of the race," holds that "we can identify man
more particularly with the latter." l Buxton summarizes his posi-
tion by stating that, "Man is primarily the breadwinner, the
provider of food in the widest sense. Woman is the distributor of
loaves, that is, the purveyor of cooked foods." "In most societies,"
he continues, "it is the duty of the man to provide the raw mate-
rials on which the household subsists," so that, "apart from agri-
culture, it will be found that woman's work is complementary to
that of man." 2 Durkheim, on a more theoretical level, envisages
the division of labor, especially the sexual division of labor, as
having "its real function ... to create in two or more persons
a feeling of solidarity." He points out that "man and woman
isolated from one another are only different parts of the same
concrete whole which they form again on uniting," and that "it
is the sexual division of labor which constitutes the source of
conjugal solidarity." Unfortunately, his discussion of how the
sexual division of labor arose a question of origin whose answer
must rest on speculation is based on unverifiable assumptions
1 Gras ( 1922), 15. 2 Buxton, 25-6, 21 ff.

128 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

concerning the undifferentiated functions of men and woman in
primeval society which do not hold for any human group existing
at the present time. 3

In some instances, assumptions concerning sex division of
labor among particular peoples have given rise to a portrayal of
a relationship that took little account of the human factor in-
volved. Thus Kaberry notes how Malinowski, on the basis of the
existing literature concerning the Australian aborigines, stated in
1913 that though "heavier work ought naturally to be performed
by the man, the contrary obtains." Because of this, he concluded
that "compulsion is therefore . . . the chief basis of this division
of labour, and it may be said in the Australian aboriginal society
the economic fact of the division of labour is rooted in a sociolog-
ical status viz., the compulsion of the weaker sex by the 'brutal'
half of society." Hence "the relation of a husband to a wife is in
its economic aspect that of a master to its slave." 4 Yet Kaberry's
field report shows clearly that this picture has little validity;
woman's work cannot be assumed to be "more onerous" than
that of the man, since "actually it is less so. . . ." The division of
labor falls into fairly clear categories: "the men go out to hunt,
the women to forage." If in woman's work there is less uncer-
tainty, there is also less of the excitement the men have; if the
woman's work requires more constant application to the task in
hand, it also does not involve the fatiguing chase "over rugged
hills" and in "the blazing sun," where "the element of sport . . .
often . . . ends in the disappointment of seeing one's dinner
leaping into the distance over the hills." 5

The fact is that, as in the case of most socially sanctioned
forms of behavior, we are here dealing with a phenomenon far
more complex than is at first apparent. This being the case, it is
futile to attempt to explain forms taken by sexual division of
labor, even in a particular instance, by any one generalization.
This position is implicit in Thurnwald's discussion where, in a
broad way, he refers the problem to the early life of man as this
has developed in the light of the ethnic contacts of any given
folk an approach whose appeal is lessened by his later attempt
to ascribe sexual predominance solely to a biological cause. 6

3 Durkheim, 57 ff. r Kaberry, 13-15, 17.

4 Malinowski ( 1913), 287, 6 Thurnwald ( 1922a), 7-8, 212.

(quoted in Kaberry, 15).

DIVISION OF LABOR AND SPECIALIZATION 1 2Q

Forde, commenting on the differences in sex division of labor
present in the patterns of certain tribes of West Africa and North
America, where other aspects of the industrial organization are
comparable, refers the matter partly to the biological differences
between the two sexes, partly to their different environmental
settings, and partly to the differing historical experiences of
each. 7 This type of eclectic approach to the problem would seem
to be the only scientifically admissible procedure, for the social
sciences, with increasingly effective techniques of analysis, are
coming more and more to recognize the inadequacy of explana-
tions of any aspect of social life among a given people in terms
of any single cause.

Even where explanations of this kind have been attempted, the
lack of data has made them uncertain, though they may have all
semblance of validity as far as their logic goes. An instance of this
is the attempt to account for sexual division of labor as found
in the manufacture of pottery in Europe and literate Asia. In
most cultures, pottery is the work of the women, but in this area
it is done by men. The question is thus a challenging one. The
answer, derived partially from inference, and partially from
archaeological data, takes us back to the early days of human
existence. It seems reasonable to suppose that prior to the domes-
tication of animals or plants, the men hunted and carried on those
other aspects of the food-quest that took them from home. It
seems equally reasonable that the women, being closely confined
to the place of family habitation, if only for physiological reasons,
made their contribution to the economy of the group by search-
ing out roots and herbs and gathering fruits and nuts.

In this way, it is further assumed, a tradition became fixed that
associated men with animals and women with plants. In terms
of this tradition, then, as it was carried over into later days and
widely diffused, man became designated as the herdsman and,
in the absence of the plow, this tradition was capable of being
reintegrated in either of two ways. The old association of men
with the larger domesticated animals could adhere to the new
affiliation of the animal with agriculture which was what did
occur or the animal might be assimilated to the woman-as-
cultivator complex. The new association having been made, then
with the discovery of the wheeled vehicle pulled by horses or

7 Fordo (1934), 171-2, 258-9.

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

oxen, man became identified with the wheel. And when pottery
began to be turned on the wheel, pottery-making became an
occupation for males.

Now, as has been said, this is a logical and, as far as can be
determined, a historically correct explanation of why, among
Indo-European peoples and in the Orient where pottery is made
on the wheel, men are potters. But if we apply the same logic to
spinning, we find it quite out of line with historical fact and
observable practice. For in the same area, where the spinning-
wheel was also developed, women have retained their function as
spinners. It is no help to reason, as does Buxton, that "the house-
hold utensils are normally woman's work. The ancient art of
pottery therefore belongs to the women, though it has passed
often to men in cases where pottery has ceased to be a household
industry, but has become the means of winning the daily bread,
and therefore a raw material." 8 For though, under industrializa-
tion, spinning has also become a means of winning the daily
bread, in this industry both men and women have always been
employed.

Another example of how many factors may enter into the
determination of the patterns of sex division of labor, and how
important it is to control all these factors with care, is to be had
in the aboriginal agricultural practices of the Kota, who live in
the Nilgiri hills of India. In earlier times the men did the sowing,
while the women followed after them and spread the manure
which fertilized the plants. This was because the technique of
manuring involved carrying a basketful of dung on the head,
which, as it was moved from side to side, caused the manure to
fall out over the edges of the basket. Kota men were restrained
by tradition from carrying head-burdens, and hence could not
employ this method, though the question why this tradition devel-
oped, or why some other method of spreading manure was not
devised is, of course, aside from the point of the present discus-
sion. Today, since the coming of the Europeans and the introduc-
tion of the potato as the principal crop, the women plant while
the men manure the fields. The potato cannot be fertilized by
spreading manure haphazard, but each plant must have its
individual allotment of fertilizer patted over it. A large and
heavy container must be carried about the field in such a way
8 Buxton, 27.

DIVISION OF LABOR AND SPECIALIZATION

that it can be set down beside each plant, while the manure is
properly placed, and then lifted and taken to the next plant.
Whether or not the native explanation that woman's strength is
not equal to this task is correct or rationalized, the factor of tradi-
tion, which causes women to be unaccustomed to carrying heavy
loads in their arms, is undoubtedly operative. 9

It thus becomes apparent that the specific forms taken by sex
division of labor in specific tribes must be referred to the his-
torical development of the particular body of traditions by which
a given people order their lives. This is exemplified by the
changes in this phase of the economy of the Tenetehara of
northern Brazil, whose culture has in recent years responded to
its contact, through non-Indian Brazilians, with the broader eco-
nomic order of the outer world. In earlier days, the men cleared
the garden site and planted and harvested manioc the "heavy
work" besides hunting and fishing and making houses and
canoes and other utensils. The women, on the other hand, worked
the gardens, being "the provider of the basic foods and . . .
responsible for the necessary activities of daily life." Among her
duties the preparation of manioc flour ranked high. At the
present time, however, men do much of the work of planting and
harvesting, and manufacture much of the manioc flour. This is
to be ascribed to the fact that, "while formerly manioc flour was
manufactured only for the consumption of the family group,
nowadays it is often produced on a larger scale for commercial
sale." Furthermore, "all Tenetehara men have seen Brazilian
men of the region work at these same activities, and they have
imitated the 'superior' Brazilians." As a result of the operation of
such historic factors, there has been a reorientation of the older
patterns whereby "the man has taken on greater importance in
Tenetehara economic life" and has assumed functions which in
earlier times were regarded as work for women. 10

Such obvious factors as that \vomen, being childbearers, are
at times prevented from doing heavy work, or that the task of
those who must care for children confines them more closely
to the home than those who do not have this duty, must of course
be taken into account. Yet the observable fact that, over the
world, women work as hard as men can never be neglected the

Mandelluuim (personal comimi- 10 Wagley and Galvao, 47-8.

nication ) .

1$2 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

thesis that in "primitive" societies women work harder than men
will be recalled. In addition, we must be constantly aware that
the lines along which sex division of labor are drawn are so
variable that it is well-nigh impossible to enunciate any prin-
ciple that does not present numerous exceptions. We can say,
for instance, that in general women do not care for the animals
of herding peoples; but this by no means holds among the
Hottentots. Among agricultural tribes it is understandable that
the men should clear the fields and the women tend the grow-
ing crops; but while the first part of this statement holds for most
peoples, the second does not. It seems that women almost never
do wood-working, though why this generalization regarding the
sex division of labor should have a wider applicability than
others is difficult to account for. The only fact of universal
validity that remains when special factors are counted out, is that
work is everywhere apportioned between men and women.
Biological or other equally broad considerations can be called on
to help explain the phenomenon only in the most general terms.

Furthermore, it does not follow that the lines of sex division of
labor laid down among a given people are always adhered to
with anything like the rigidity often attributed to prescribed
conduct among presumably "primitive" folk. The lines drawn in
those communities are not so vague as in our own society; but
they are nowhere as fixed as they have been stated to be. To
return to the Kota, we find that while most economic pursuits
are allotted to one sex or the other, no hard and fast rule is
enforced. Women usually cook, but, as among ourselves, if a
wife is ill or busy or absent, the man can and will cook a meal.
Men usually employ the hoe, but a woman is quite competent in
an emergency to take up where the man of the family left off.
It is only in craft specialization that work is really, in practice,
restricted to one sex or the other; but here the determining
factor is the opportunity for instruction and practice. "Men do not
make pottery because they have never been taught to do it.
Women are not blacksmiths for the same reasons, but if someone
is needed to do the simple job of operating the bellows, there is
no taboo against a woman doing it." H

The emotional "loading" often associated with customary rules
of sex division of labor is an important factor in causing it to

11 Ibid.

DIVISION OF LABOR AND SPECIALIZATION 133

be followed closely. One study of the educational development
of the boys and girls, among the West African Tallensi, outlines
the way in which the learning process, as applied to industrial
and other economic pursuits, differs in the case of the two sexes.
A synoptic chart that has been drawn of the "economic duties
and activities" of the two sexes in this society can be reproduced
here to indicate how early in life the conditioning of the indi-
vidual to the accepted modes of sex differentiation of labor be-
gins, and how consistently it is carried on. It will in this way help
us understand how deeply may be lodged the emotional attach-
ments of an individual to his tribal canons of sex division of
labor.

BOYS GIRLS

Economic Duties and Activities
(3-6 Years)

None at first. Towards end of this None at first. Towards end of
period begin to assist in pegging out period the same duties as small boys,
goats; scaring birds from newly Frequent nursing of infants. Ac-
sown fields and from crops: ac- company mothers to water-hole and
company family sowing and harvest- begin to carry tiny water-pots. Help
ing parties, using hoe in quasi-play in simple domestic tasks such as
to glean ground -nuts in company of sweeping,
other siblings.

(6-9 Years)

These duties now fully estab- Duties of previous period estab-
lished. Help in house-building by lished. Responsible co-operation in
carrying swish. Assist in sowing and water-carrying and simpler domes-
harvesting. Towards end of period tic duties. Help in cooking and in
begin to go out with the herd -boys, activities associated with food-prep-
and to care for poultry. aration, such as searching for wild

edible herbs. Accompany family
parties at sowing and harvesting,
giving quasi-playful help. Carry
swish at building operations and
assist women in plastering and floor-
beating, but still with a play ele-
ment.

(9-12 Years)

Fully responsible cattle-herding. All domestic duties can be en-
Care for poultry. Assisting parents trusted to them by end of this period
in hoeing and care of crops, but water-carrying, cooking, care of
without responsibility. Farming own infants, etc. Assisting in building

1J4 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

BOYS GIRLS

(9-12 Years)

small plots and ground-nuts but in and plastering, etc., more responsi-
quasi-play. Sons of specialist crafts- bility. Often sent to market to buy
men assist fathers in subsidiary ca- and sell. Help in women's part of
pacity "learning by looking." the work at sowing and harvest

times.

(12-15 Years)

Duties as in preceding period but Responsible part in all domestic

more responsible. Responsible care duties of everyday life, and of those

of poultry, sometimes own property. associated with ceremonial oc-

Leaders of herd-boys. Real farming casions. Go for firewood and collect

of own plots and in co-operation shea-fruits in the bush, and help to

with older members of family estab- prepare shea butter. 1 ' 2
lished at end of period. Sons of
specialists experimentally making
things.

How specific and detailed the accepted patterns of division
of labor which call forth an emotional response may he is illus-
trated by an incident, trivial in itself, that is none the less
illuminating. In Dutch Guiana, the Javanese, who were imported
in considerable numbers to work on the plantations, continue
their own aboriginal modes of life. In visiting one of their houses,
attention was drawn to the variety of mats that are part of their
furnishings, and the excellence of the workmanship in them was
admired. As each mat in turn was commented on, the Javanese
host, who was also the maker, smiled his appreciation. But when
admiration was expressed at his ability as displayed in an espe-
cially fine bed mat, his smile vanished, and had he not been
tolerant of the ignorance of the stranger, he would obviously
have shown active resentment of the implications of the com-
ment. For this particular type of mat, it soon was made patent,
is woman's work, and to credit a man with its making is to bring
into play associations that are anything but acceptable.

ASSUMING, then, that sexual division of labor is a universal in
social life, we may turn to some specific instances of it in a few
"Fortes (1938), 62-4.

DIVISION OF LABOR AND SPECIALIZATION 135

of the large number of societies for which it has been recorded
so as to see how varied may be the forms in which it is mani-
fested. The following account from the East African Akamba was
set down by a member of the tribe:

The woman's work is to powder maize, grind flour, chop
wood, fetch water, look for vegetables and cook them, cook
food for her husband. . . . Her other duties are: to milk
the cows and churn butter, to dig ( the field ) , sow and plant,
gather in the maize, thrash the millet and Penicillaria and
the nooko beans; to cut and carry home grass for thatching,
sweep the hut, shut the entrance to the craal and clean it
after the cattle (this is seldom done, however); to plait
bags and mend calabashes; feed children (a very important
duty), suckle them, look after them and bring them up. . . .
The man's work is to cut . . . the framework of the house,
peel off the bark to make cords of, build racks to keep
maize on and other smaller ones to keep things on; to chop
material for the fence around the craal, for the . . . narrow
entrance to the craal and for barricading the entrances with;
to cut beams to support the ceiling of the hut and wood for
the sleeping-places and to build the . . . compartment in
the back part of the hut; to go to Ukamba and buy cattle,
goats and ivory to sell at the coast and then to buy clothes
for his wife; to cut posts ... to make brooms ... to make
the sleeping skins for the beds and the wife's skin dress and
to scrape the hair off this; to sew quivers, make bows and
arrow-shafts, arrowheads of iron and wood and to fix them
on; to rub the arrow poison on and find small bits of goat-
skin, rub these very soft between the hands, bind them on
the arrow-heads and then fix the arrows in the quiver; to
sew the ornaments of ostrich feathers on the quiver; to cut
clubs, make swords and sheaths for these, fix the hilts on
... to make straps for his wife to fasten bundles of wood
and water calabashes with; to hollow out beehives . . . and
go to hang them up; to hollow out honey jars ... to make
chairs; to look after the cattle (if he has no children); to cut
out snuff-boxes and make the tweezers for pulling out the
hair of the beard and eyelashes. 13

18 Lindhlom, 5-43-4.

136 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

The Lamba of Northern Rhodesia hold that "the axe and the
spear" are the sign of the man and "the hoe" is the sign of the
woman. The lines of sex division of labor are not so stringently
fixed as a mere enumeration of them would indicate: "Hoe- work
is primarily women's work, though men may take a hoe to assist
them. Axe-work is primarily men's work, though here again a
woman may use an axe on occasion." Yet a tabulated and classi-
fied list of activities of men and women shows how, in at least
the "ideal" culture of this people, the functions of each are
provided for by an accepted pattern: 14

(1) Daily Duties (a)

MEN

(2) Gardens and
Jood prepa-
ration

(b) Bring heavy firewood

yard

(d)

(a) Tree-felling

(b) First hoeing in clods

(d)

(e) May help in sowing and

weeding

(f) Scare pigs, monkeys
fg) Cut corn-heads

(h) Make stands and grain-
houses

(3) Other prepara-

tions

(4) Hunting, etc.

14 Doke, 96-9.

(k)

(1) Search for mushrooms,

caterpillars, fish,

meat, etc.

(m) Gather wild fruits and

roots
(n)

(a) Making soap

(b) Preparing tobacco

(a) Hunting proper

(b) Trapping: game, birds,

mice, etc.

WOMEN

(a) Draw water

(b) Bring kindling wood

courtyard

(d) Make bed

(a)

(b) Ordinary hoeing

(c)

(d) Smashing the clods

(e) Sowing and weeding

(f) Scare birds

(g) Break down corn

(h) Carry corn to stand;
put corn in grain-
house

(i) Take out daily corn
supply

(j) Thresh, winnow, grind,
pound

(k) Make porridge

(1) Search for edible leaves
for relish, caterpil-
lars, mushrooms,
etc.

(m) Gather wild fruits and
roots

(n) Extract salt, brew beer
of all kinds

(a) Preparing soap

(b) Tobacco (old women)

(a)

(b)

(c)

DIVISION OF LABOR AND SPECIALIZATION

137

(5) Domestic

Animals

(6) Building

(7) Clay -moulding

(8) Baskets and

mats

(9) Wooden

utensils, etc.

(10) Musical In-

struments

(11) Weapons and

Instruments

(12) Bark and Skin
Preparations

MEN

(d) Fishing : nets, weirtraps,
spearing, hooking

(a)

(b) Attention to fowls

Marking out, bringing
poles, bark rope,
thatching, erecting,
placing bonds, tread-
ing mud for plaster-
ing, rough plastering,
door

(a) (A few men mould pots)

(b) Pipe-bowls

(a) Large baskets of bam-

boo

(b) Shallow baskets of split

bamboo

(c)

(d) Palm-leaf mats

(a) Eating bowls, ladles,

stamp-blocks, stools,
stirring sticks, dugout
canoes, drums, axe,
hoe and spear handles,
sticks, door -fasteners,
etc.

(b) Drinking calabashes

Various

Spear, axe, bow, ar-
rows, knife, hoe, adze,
dancing axe, type of
small knife carried in
hair, wire, brass brace-
lets, rings, combs

(a) Preparation of barkcloth

(b) Sewing

mats

WOMEN

(d) Fishing : treading, bait-
ing string with
worm-bait (no hook)

(a) Attention to goats

(b) Attention to fowls

Grass for thatching,
water for mud,
smearing walls, prep-
aration of floor, beat-
ing of floor, making
of interior screen

(a) Cooking and other pots

(b)

(a) Large baskets of reeds

(b) Grass meal baskets

beer strainer

(d) A few palm-leaf mats

(a)

(b) Calabashes halved

Rattles, gourds, drum
(of special kinds)

Grass dancing waist
fringe, stones for
grinding picked up

(a)
(b)
(c)

(13) Personal

Adornment

(a) Bead headdresses

woven in girls* hair

(b) Tattooing

(a) Feather hairdrcsses

(b) Tattooing

The most detailed analysis of a given system of sex division
of labor available for any people one that is far too detailed to

138 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

permit of reproduction in any degree here has been made for
the Eskimo. Every generalization that has been advanced con-
cerning this aspect of economic life is in some measure sustained
by this analysis, in some respects contradicted by it. Certain tasks
are only to be done by men, others only by women; some are
"prevailingly" masculine, others feminine to the same degree;
while a considerable number of tasks may be performed by
persons of either sex. That "a man may do any kind of woman's
work and a woman any kind of man's work" if a situation is urgent
enough, is merely a reflection of the common-sense manner
in which the Eskimo meet the demands of the harsh habitat in
which they live. That differences of detail are to be found even
in the way in which members of the two sexes perform identical
tasks, as where "the men avoid the working position of the
women" when skin-scraping, shows how deeply the sense of the
importance of differentiating the work of men from that of
women may lodge. 15

"There is little intrusion of one sex into the specific activities
set aside for the other" among the Hopi of Arizona. The men "in
general attend to the more energetic outdoor occupations involv-
ing hard physical labor and, formerly, danger of attack from
raiding groups. . . . Men also carry on sedentary occupations
such as weaving, moccasin making and the like, but this is gen-
erally done in time taken from other tasks or during the winter
months." The work of each sex is as follows: 1G

MEN WOMEN COMMON

Hunting Preparation of meat and Men slaughter and

Trapping carcass of animals butcher; the women

dress and prepare the
meat for cooking

Planting Husking of corn for seed; Planting, harvesting,

Cultivating husking and grinding and gardening (oc-

corn for food casionally today, fre-

quently of old)

Harvesting Preparation of food

Roasting of corn Drying of peaches, mel- Girls usually assist at

Gardening on, squash and chile the roasting of sweet

Storing of food corn

Cooking and baking
Collection of wild food
products

15 Giffen, 83 ff. 1(I Beaglehole (1937), 18-19.

DIVISION OF LABOR AND SPECIALIZATION 139

MEN

Sheep herding, shearing

Cattle ranching

Tending eagles

Spinning of wool, cotton

Weaving of blankets,
belts, ceremonial cos-
tumes ; knitting

Manufacture and repair
of tools and weapons

Working of silver

Preparation of paints

Carving and painting of
dolls

Manufacture of cere-
monial objects

Dressing, tanning of skins

Manufacture of mocca-
sins

Making and repair of
clothes for both sexes

Housebuilding

Assembling materials
Heavy labor

Practice of medicinal arts

Digging coal
Expeditions tor firewood,

salt and pigments
Trade and barter

WOMEN
Care of chickens

COMMON

Preparing and dyeing of
materials for basketry
Basket making

Preparation of clays and
pottery making

Housebuilding

Plastering of floors,

walls

Making of outside ovens
Preparation of piki ovens
Care of house and chil-
dren
Domestic duties

Practice of medicinal arts,
especially mid\\ ifery

Carrying water (formerly)

H ousebuilding

Trade and barter

Expeditions to collect
materials for basketry
Trade and barter

In addition to these tabulated accounts of sex division of
labor, numerous other descriptions of the phenomenon are avail-
able, for cultures the world over, of all types of basic economies
and of all degrees of economic complexity. We may, however,
because of considerations of space, restrict ourselves to a few
further examples from the Americas.

Men of the non-agricultural Klamath tribe usually assume the
important task of fishing, although they may be aided by the
woman. To the extent that hunting is carried on, the men also do
this, though the women may from time to time be pressed into
service to remain in the canoes during a deer-drive and kill the
frightened animals as they flounder in the water. There is no

140 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

evidence that the men help in such women's work as the gather-
ing of roots, fruit and seeds, though "seeds, especially pond-lily
seeds, form the second staple in Klamath life." Preparing food is
exclusively woman's work, except that old men may aid them; the
women also see to storing and drying foodstuffs. Houses are built
by both sexes, but each sex is charged with the completion of
certain well-recognized subdivisions of the work. The house pit
is dug by workers of both sexes, but only the men prepare the
timbers, and only women spread grass and dirt over the structure
to complete it. A minor exception to the general principle that
wood-working is a masculine task is to be noted among the
Klamath: "Wood working and the manufacture of weapons are
masculine activities. Yet the most laborious wood-working task,
the making of canoes, is sometimes undertaken by women."
Women care for the tanning of skins, and make all garments
and moccasins; mats and baskets, mortars, metates, and other
adjuncts of the cuisine are also made by them. Nets are mainly
the work of men; ropes and cords are made by women. 17

Iroquois hospitality, says Morgan, "rested chiefly upon the
industry and therefore upon the natural kindness of the Indian
women; who, by the cultivation of the maize, and their other
plants, provided the principal part of their subsistence, for the
warrior despised the toil of husbandry. . . ." 18 An early writer
on the Creek declared that "the women are the chief, if not the
only manufacturers; the men judge that if they performed that
office, it would exceedingly depreciate them." The principal
occupations of men were hunting, fighting, building houses and
other structures such as corn-cribs, felling trees, and, despite the
quoted statement, manufacturing canoes, mortars, drums, pipes,
calumets, ball sticks, axes, arrows, bows, war clubs, and other
implements of the chase and of war. Women, in addition to
housework, made all the pottery and basketry and did all the
spinning and weaving. Though men sometimes did the pre-
liminary working of skins, the finishing process was in female
hands. Women also made frames on which they dried peaches
and other fruits and "of course pounded the corn and did the
cooking." Smaller garden plots were their exclusive care, though
both men and women farmed the larger town fields. 19

17 Spier, 144-5. 1( > Swanton ( 1928), 384-5.

18 Morgan (1851), 320.

DIVISION OF LABOR AND SPECIALIZATION 141

Among the tribes of the Amazon basin, the woman cares for
the house and does the greater part of the agricultural labor. Her
husband clears and breaks up the land, but she must plant the
slips and dig the manioc while he hunts to supplement the food-
supply. The division of labor is strict here, in many cases almost
amounting to a taboo. The men defend the community, and do all
"that calls for physical strength and skill." Besides hunting, this
means making weapons and preparing arrow-poisons and cere-
monial beverages; men are the foresters, making canoes and
building houses with the trees they fell, while from the forest
they gather fruit. Besides her housework, the woman makes "all
purely domestic implements" hammocks, pottery, and most
baskets, though here the lines of sex differentiation are loosened
somewhat, and the man "lends a hand" if this is necessary. 20
Similarly, among the Indians of the Chaco, the men clear the
fields, hunt, fish, and make warfare, while household work,
manufacturing tasks, and the care of small domesticated animals
are allotted to the women. 21

Though something of the great variety of form which this
fundamental aspect of productive activity can take has been
indicated, we have at the same time been able to discern certain
underlying general tendencies. Thus while men in some cultures,
and women in others, are found occupied with such industrial
pursuits as weaving, dressing skins, making clothing, or even
cooking, such a statement as the one concerning the Maori, that
"in general . . . the men attended to the more energetic, ardu-
ous, and exciting occupations, while the women engaged in the
more sober and somewhat more monotonous tasks," ' 2 ' 2 is much
more widely applicable than just to these people. Even so broad
a generalization as this, however, must be made with all care. It
must involve a sense of the different forms which this phenome-
non can manifest, and of the cultural flexibility which, in case
of need, permits men to take up tasks commonly regarded as
those of women, or women to carry on the work of the men. What
is even more important, we must recognize that whatever form
the division of labor by sex may take, it so operates that the
work done by one sex complements that of the other. The
smoothly working whole that results ensures in no small measure

20 Whiffen, 90. 22 Firth (1929), 195-6.

21 Karstc-n, 65-6.

142 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

that the entire system will function so that the people who live by
it may survive.

IN CONSIDERING the second aspect of the division of labor, craft
specialization, we are presented with a body of data which,
though almost as large as that dealing with sex division of labor,
is much less specific. This is because the implications of this
phase of the economic life of nonliterate peoples have been real-
ized much less fully by those who have described their cultures.
By the same token, there is no such mass of theoretical postulates
as to the significance of this type of specialization as is en-
countered when the development and present status of the
difference in types of work done by men and women are under
consideration. Moreover, economists of various schools have in
the main been content with the assumption that specialization is
necessary for the greatest economic efficiency and have pursued
the matter no farther. 23

Certain propositions that have been advanced concerning the
development of craft specialization may be indicated. Durkheirn
enunciated a principle that assumes a relation between special-
ization, population size, and economic surplus not dissimilar to
that already suggested in these pages:

The division of labor varies in direct proportion to the
volume and density of societies, and, if it progresses steadily
in the course of social development, it is because societies be-
come regularly more dense and very generally more vo-
luminous. 24

It is not possible to document this statement, especially in its
dynamic aspects, because of lack of historic control over the
data from non-industrial societies. Yet if the quantitative pre-
cision it implies is not insisted upon, the position carries a
considerable validity, as will be indicated later when the relation
between population size and economic surplus the basis of all
release of man-power from the immediate task of supporting
life is treated.
23 Adam Smith; Marx, 355-9. 24 Durkheim, 289.

DIVISION OF LABOR AND SPECIALIZATION 143

Thurnwald has also indicated conditions under which crafts
develop:

. . . the joint settlement of various ethnic groups under a
strong government which, on the one hand, favors a wide-
spread system of economic distribution (thus creating con-
ditions requisite for the professionally specialized practice
of handicrafts rendered possible by the state of peace
brought about by authority) and on the other, provides the
opportunity of visiting the markets to dispose of products. 25

While cause and effect seem to have been confused here ( in that
strong political authority, as such, is not essential to specializa-
tion any more than is the contact of different peoples), the
recognition that specialization is an aspect only of economic
systems of a certain degree of complexity is one with which all
must agree.

The extent to which craft specialization is practiced varies as
widely as the forms it takes, as will be evident if a few descrip-
tions of it are given. One of the cases where a sufficient division
of labor exists to permit some specialization, despite a relatively
low economic level, has been reported from the Yir-Yoront of
northern Australia. Here, in addition to the "mild form of special-
ization" where some men acquire "real or fancied" reputations
for hunting or fishing abilities, others who are invalids or who
are otherwise incapacitated "supply the labour on provided
materials and receive a special return that compensates for their
disabilities in other economic endeavours. . . ." That this, though
apparently making for the development of particular skills,
merely foreshadows the specialization of larger and more com-
plex communities, is made apparent when we read that "most
things are made for use by the worker, and standardized tech-
niques are followed with little variation." M More characteristic
of cultures having simple technologies was the complete absence
of craft specialization in the Andaman Islands, each man "mak-
ing his own bow, arrows, adze, etc., while the wife makes her
baskets, nets, and so on." This did not mean that differences in
ability did not exist and exert some influence on behavior: "It
happens that some men are more skilful in certain pursuits than

2ft Thurnwald (1932a), 86, 91 ff; 20 Sharp, 37; see also Kaberry,

(1932b), 115, 117ff. 162-6.

144 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

in others. A skilful turtle-hunter, for example, may be an indif-
ferent pig-hunter, and such a man will naturally prefer to devote
himself to the pursuits in which he appears to most advantage."
But the economic repercussions of the exercise of such abilities
in economic systems of this order of simplicity cannot be of great
importance. 27

As might be expected, most African societies stand in sharp
contrast in specialized productive activity when compared with
those of Australia. Over the greater part of the African con-
tinent, iron-working constitutes a specialized activity that is strik-
ing for non-industrial cultures, since iron-workers must have a
high degree of technical proficiency which means long educa-
tion and continued practice in the craft and must thus be more
than merely the best practitioners of a craft known to all persons
of the proper sex in a given group. 28 In the Congo basin and in
West Africa, furthermore, where the cultures have attained a
degree of economic complexity outstanding among the non-
literate peoples of the world, various other industries are also
carried on in the same way that is, by those who devote prac-
tically all their productive time to them. Pottery, baskets, wood-
carvings, cloth, and other commodities are manufactured by those
whose position as craftsmen is recognized in the organization of
the community, and whose support is provided by an extensive
system of markets that permit ready disposal of their wares. In
addition, those other specialists whose contribution consists of
services rather than of goods chiefs, priests, and above all in
Africa, practitioners of magic are likewise numerous.

This is exemplified among the Nigerian Nupe, where many
types of craft-guilds exist. Each of these organizations is "a
specific social group, almost an artisan class, which enjoys official
recognition and certain political privileges/* The industries organ-
ized in this manner are the blacksmiths, the brass and silver-
smiths, glassmakers, weavers, bead-workers, builders, wood-
workers and carpenters, and butchers. This list of organized
specialists is supplemented, in this society, by the individual
craftsmen, men who do tailoring and embroidery, leather work,
indigo dyeing, the making of straw hats and mats and basket-
weaving, and, by women, a restricted amount of indigo dyeing,
pottery making, and a special type of weaving. Finally, the "free

27 Radcliffe-Brown, 40-3. 28 Cline, 114-17, 128-9,

DIVISION OF LABOR AND SPECIALIZATION 145

professions" must be indicated to complete the list the "schol-
ars, scientists and artists, or, in a terminology more akin to the
native conception, its Mallams, barber-doctors, and drummers
and dancers." 29

In other continents societies of similar complexity also show
this high degree of craft specialization, as, for instance, in
Mexico. Thus, among the Tarascan peoples of Michoacan, lapi-
daries worked turquoise and other precious stones, doing inlay
on obsidian; masons prepared building-stones for pyramids and
temples; carpenters, using copper tools, made various articles of
furniture, and canoes, paddles and trays; maguey leaves were
fashioned into cloth or paper to which colored feathers were
affixed for capes and mantles; cotton was grown, spun, dyed and
woven; mats for sleeping and to be used for floor-coverings were
fabricated; lacquer-work was done in certain centers. There were
professional hunters, drum makers, house builders, repairers of
temples, and makers of bows and arrows. 30

Yet in early Mexico, as elsewhere, professionalism shaded into
the less sharply defined group of artisans who were not profes-
sionals. Thus while the feather- workers constituted a "wealthy
and honored guild," the position of the carpenters was not so
clear:

Everyday objects of wood . . . were presumably not made
by professional carpenters, but by the man who needed them
for his own use. . . . The average man would manufacture
his own spearthrower, but a skilled carpenter would be em-
ployed to carve and adorn the spearthrower carried by
Montezuma or placed in the hands of some idol.

The more common situation, where the basic industries are
known to everyone and are practiced by all, also obtained:

House building was not a trade, but a task in which every-
one took a hand, the members of the community assisting
anyone who needed a new home without reward save their
food during the work and a feast when the task was com-
pleted. 31

^Nadel (1942), 257, 299; cf. 80 Foster ( 1948), 10-11. See also

257--304, passim. West, 33 ff.

81 Thompson, 91-5.

146 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

A list of the occupations followed in the present-day Mexican
town of Mitla affords an example of a rudimentary form of the
more developed specialization in larger groups. Of 371 men
enumerated between 1929 and 1933, 140 were merchants or men
who traveled for purposes other than trade; 70 were farmers 6
or more of these also being ropemakers and 1 was a barber; 98
were hired men, though this group included a few who were
also independent farmers or ropemakers. Specialists included
3 adobe-brickmakers, 4 carters, 1 blacksmith, 6 masons, 1 thatcher,
3 carpenters, 2 woodchoppers, 3 charcoal-burners, 10 weavers,
2 tanners, 2 tailors (one of them a sandal-maker as well), 3 or 4
master brewers, 5 butchers, 8 bakers, 2 candlemakers, 1 maker of
fireworks, 3 male curers (one a barber), 2 image-makers, 1
artificial-flower-maker, and 2 bandmasters. Several of these
specialists, however, were also farmers and ropemakers. Most of
those following such special trades were outsiders who had
married into the town; "the born Mitleyeno is still a man of parts:
trader, farmer, ropemaker, thatcher or brickmaker, candlemaker,
or musician." Among the women, specialists were more rare, the
only ones being curers and midwives, a candlemaker, and an old
woman who rolled ritual cigarettes. 32

Sporadic instances of specialization in other parts of the
Americas dot the literature. Thus, among the Cherokee, med-
icine-men were apparently a group quite apart. 33 Certain Shus-
wap men were trained to become expert hunters, and, though
every male in the tribe hunted and fished, "these men excelled,
or were thought to excel others." 34 Well-paid Kwakiutl experts
carved the totemic house-posts for the dwellings of chiefs, and
exacted their fees under the threat of lessening the prestige of
the employer who did not pay them well. 35 Specialization oc-
curred even among the sparse populations of aboriginal Cal-
ifornia, most notably among the Patwin, where specific occupa-
tions sanctioned by the magic known only to the members of
a given relationship group were restricted to those belonging
to the proper "functional families." Certain forms of this magic
aided in the performance of ceremonies, shamanism, or trade.
Other families employed the same means to control salmon-
fishing, the manufacture of arrow-points, goose-hunting, duck-

82 Parsons ( 1936b ) , 63-4. 34 Teit ( 1909 ) , 589-90.

88 Mooney and Olbrechts, 84-5. 85 Boas (1921), 1338-40.

DIVISION OF LABOR AND SPECIALIZATION 147

trapping, the making of ceremonial drums, ceremonial head-
dresses and feather belts, salt-manufacture, and the making of
"a variety of large coiled baskets" and "canoe-baskets." How-
ever,

The functional family cannot be regarded as a professional
group, since the activity in which it specialized did not
assume the place of a sole or even chief occupation. Only at
times was the individual member engaged in all the general
pursuits of life customarily followed by the other village
inhabitants. Even the shamans spent but a relatively small
part of their time in shamanistic practice in comparison with
the day-to-day routine of general work directed toward sup-
plying the necessities of life. 30

Among the Californian Wintu, where functional families did not
exist, specialization derived from a man's "inclinations and his
opportunities of learning from another." Famous craftsmen are
still recalled, not only for their special gifts as makers of rope
or arrows or spears, but also for their all-round ability to work
with their hands." 17

The high rank accorded the most competent specialists marked
the productive economy of many South Sea islands. In Tonga, an
early traveler listed the occupations of men according to rank as
follows:

Hereditary: matapule (chief) and mua

Canoe builders

Cutters of whale teeth

Funeral directors
Hereditary: mua and tua

Stone-masons

Net-makers

Fishermen

Large house builders
Hereditary or not: mua and tua

Tattooers

Club-carvers
Hereditary or not: tua

Barbers
80 McKcrn, 249-50, 255. 37 Dubois, 21-3.

148 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Hereditary: tua
Cooks
Peasants

In addition, experts in tying sennit wrappings brought this tech-
nique to such a high degree of proficiency that many of the
products of these men rightly rank as art objects. One instance
of specialization within a given industry is reported, for while the
carpenter who builds a boat also wraps and ties the sennit, a
house carpenter does only wood-work and leaves the ornamental
wrapping to the sennit artist. 38

The Marquesan Islanders used the term hana to signify work,
while a specialist was called a tuhnna. A tuhnna was usually,
though not always, a professional. A man became one through
the training given him by his father "the normal and simplest
form of apprenticeship" by employing a teacher, or by learn-
ing from such a specialist while in his employ. Full-fledged
professionals received food, cloth, and ornaments in payment for
their work, and constituted a recognized social class with special
privileges and prerogatives. Major industries, carried on by male
specialists, were wood-working, stone-working, house-building,
and canoe-building; the minor industries, knowledge of which
was not so restricted, were the cultivation of food, the pounding
of tapa cloth, and work done at home such as basketry, the mak-
ing of bowls, implements, and ornaments, and the carvings that
adorned them.

The following list of the various kinds of tuliuna, "not to be
regarded as complete," gives an idea of how many different spe-
cialists might be found:

Master house-builder (or master Staff maker

builder) Skilled cloth maker

Stone-cutter Fan maker

Digger of storage-pits Maker of tortoise-shell crowns

Professional skilled in making string Maker of ear-ornaments

figures and applying them in He who cuts the foreskin

decoration such as ornamental Doctor

sennit designs One skilled in witchcraft

Skilled wood -carver Master tattooer

Skilled mat maker Master fisher (or master net-maker)

Maker of popoi pounders One learned in legends

Maker of popoi dishes One learned in genealogies
88 Gifford (1929), 142-8.

DIVISION OF LABOR AND SPECIALIZATION 149

Drum maker Ceremonial priests (three kinds)

Master canoe-builder He who composes chants

Image maker

Coffin maker

Maker of hair ornaments

Not all these were professionals, but the tattooers, the makers of
ornaments, or drums, of lashings, or those who decorated canoes
and houses supported themselves in large measure on what they
received for their special kinds of work. 39 Similar restriction of
skills to those undergoing apprenticeships are found elsewhere in
the Pacific, as, for example, in Mangaia 40 and particularly in
Samoa, where specialization was accompanied by an organization
of workers that is almost unique in nonindustrial society. 41

A final example may be given a culture where the specialist
is one who has knowledge of a particular technique, not one who
spends all his time making a particular object. Among the Li peo-
ple of Hainan Island, though there is sex and village specializa-
tion in various crafts, are all farmers, "and they have no other full-
time occupation." Two villages are known for their pottery,
made by women recognized as experts. Their products are
traded in the entire valley where these villages are situated. Yet
pottery-making is not a "specialized full-time occupation."

The families of these women experts are farmers and these
women themselves are also farmers. They just engage in
ceramics in the slack season. Second, though this skill is
handed down from woman to woman it is not the duty of
each woman to learn the trade and it is not a hereditary
occupation. Third, though they do go out of their own
villages to sell these, the earthenware was originally made
to supply needs at home or, at most, needs of the village.
They go out to sell only what happens to be left over. 42

THE PRECEDING example can also be recorded as an instance of
the third kind of specialization, wherein an entire group produces
some commodity not made by its neighbors. This is a type of pro-

80 Handy (1923), 143-5, 147-64. 41 Hiroa (1930), 84 ff.

40 Hiroa (1934), 131. 42 K. Oclaka, 53-4.

15O ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

duction that affords the basis of much trade among nonliterate
peoples. Many of our examples of this will be encountered later
in the course of our consideration of that subject; at this point we
may cite a few instances which emphasize local specialization in
production and comment briefly on the significance of the
phenomenon as an aspect of the productive processes in general.
Care must be taken, here as elsewhere, not to seek out simple
explanations to account for regional or group specialties. For
while such environmental causes as the localization of raw mate-
rials necessary to a given commodity may explain some cases, the
factor of traditional usage is as important in this as in other
elements of culture. Thus, even where the range of natural re-
sources is the same throughout an entire district, custom may still
restrict the manufacture of one product to one group and another
kind of good to a different folk.

This problem of regional specialization has been considered
in greatest detail for one portion of Melanesia, an area re-
nowned as a whole for the degree to which this aspect of its
native economies is developed. 4 ' One instance must suffice here.
In the Trobriand Islands the concentration of raw materials
strongly influences local production. The shells used in making
disks and armbands, for instance, are available only to those
communities whose fishing activities make it possible for them
to tap the proper beds. Stone, imported from the Woodlark
Islands, is worked in the eastern Trobriands, which are nearest
the source of supply. Certain baskets can only be made from
grasses that grow in a few swamps, and certain wood for carving
comes only from special mangrove swamps. Yet it must be
emphasized that, as elsewhere, the "technical plant" in the
communities from which these specialties are exported, and the
"regular system of production with markets, agencies, and
channels of distribution" that one accustomed to European
economic organization would associate with the phrase "regional
specialization," are quite lacking. Instead of a well-organized
guild of workers, only a few persons carry on a given specialized
tradition. Thus, the group that at one time produced the pottery
for which the Amphletts are famous throughout the area con-
sisted of seven elderly women, with three or four apprentices. 44

Regional specialization is by no means restricted to Melanesia.

43 Tueting, passim. 44 Malinowski ( 1935), 21-3.

DIVISION OF LABOR AND SPECIALIZATION 151

We shall have occasion later to see how in East Africa cattle,
sheep and goats, and grain, the specialized products of three
tribes, are associated with a complicated system of trade, 45 while
in West Africa producers of tribal and local specialties dispose
of their wares over a large area. In the New World, cases of local
specialization are abundant; three examples may suffice here.
The various Tsimshian sub-groups specialized in the articles
each was called on to furnish for potlatches: carved wooden
dishes, wooden boxes, wooden spoons, and horn spoons, dried
mountain-goat meat and tallow, cranberries and crabapples
mixed with grease, cakes of hemlock sap, mats, dried salmon,
shredded bark of the red cedar, tobacco, blankets of yellow
cedar, and burnt clam-shells. 40 In the Amazon basin, tribal
specialties are frequently encountered. The Menimehe are re-
nowned for pottery, the Karahone for poisons, the Boro are
specialists in the manufacture of mats, plaited objects, ligatures,
and blow-pipes, the Witoto in the making of hammocks. 47 Or, in
Guiana, each tribe of Indians has "its own home products" for
which it maintains a reputation. The Otomac were known for
their clay pots, the Arekuna for cotton and blow-pipes, the
Makusi for curare poison, the Maionkong and Taruma for
cassava graters and hunting dogs, the Warrau for canoes
(corials), the Waiwai for tucuin fibers, the Guinau for hammocks,
cassava graters, aprons, girdles of human hair, and feather dec-
orations, and the Oyapock River peoples for their grinding
stones. 4S

IF THE points that have been made in this chapter be summarized,
it is seen, first of all, that the productive activity of nonliterate
peoples presents far less specialization than anything found in
the industrial culture of Europe and America. It is also apparent
that a much greater proportion of the attention of non-industrial
peoples must be concentrated on the problem of subsistence than
where greater technological sophistication permits a larger de-
gree of productivity and makes the problem of survival less

45 Driberg, 1929, 28-9. 47 Whiffen, 91.

40 Boas (1916), 274. w Roth (1924), 635-6.

152 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

immediate. Yet with all this difference, it is evident that non-
literate peoples, even where their economies are of the simplest,
follow their own ways of living not only with contentment, but,
to the degree permitted by their technologies, with efficiency.

The incentives to labor and the return nonliterate man ex-
pects from his work, in their broader manifestations, have been
found to show little significant difference when compared with
those drives with which we are familiar. This is particularly the
case when we consider the more immediate relationship that
obtains in those societies between what a man does and what
he gets for doing it, a condition resulting from the absence of
those money values into which all return for work in our own
society is cast. What does differ in nonliterate cultures from our
own is the psychological compensations enjoyed by those
who live under simpler economies. For, unlike workers in
Euroamerican industrialized communities, the worker in these
societies is occupied mainly with his own tasks and, more impor-
tantly, on his own initiative. That this initiative is not unap-
preciable is apparent from the variety of goods produced by most
nonliterate peoples, since these goods are expressions of the drive
their makers must manifest in resolving the numerous technical
and other difficulties which they must surmount in wresting a liv-
ing from their environment.

PART III

EXCHANGE
AND DISTRIBUTION

CHAPTER VIII

GIFT AND CEREMONIAL
EXCHANGE

IN CONSIDERING the circulation of goods in non-industrial soci-
eties, it is essential that we constantly recall the significance of
the difference in the degree of sharpness with which economic
institutions can be distinguished within these economies and in
our own. As in the case of production, forms which we differ-
entiate quite sharply are not only indistinguishable but, in many
instances, are so intimately linked with non-economic institutions
that we can only discern them at all by giving the closest atten-
tion to their economic role.

The process of distribution, in many tribes, is thus set in a
non-economic matrix which takes the form of gift and cere-
monial exchange. Both of these institutions have received con-
siderable attention, and there has even been some attempt made
to derive all forms of exchange of goods from them. This position
has been most effectively presented in an important paper by
Mauss, whose work extracts the crucial point from these ritual-
ized forms of distribution. Mauss shows that no matter how
freely a gift may be tendered, or how unsought it may be, the
very fact of its having been presented carries an obligation of
equivalent or increased return that can be ignored only on
penalty of social disapprobation and the loss of prestige. Psycho-
logically, this principle holds for all cultures. In the less special-
ized economies, however, where it commonly takes institutional-
ized form, it is of primary economic importance.

When the institutions that involve gift exchange are observed
as they actually operate, their non-economic aspects are most
apparent. To the student, as to the native whose life he seeks to

'55

156 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

understand, it is the rituals and the patterned circumstances
which call them forth that are important, rather than the fact that
here exists a significant economic process. It is, however, the
role of these institutions in stimulating the circulation of com-
modities that must command the attention of those primarily
concerned with economic phenomena.

The purely economic aspects of the systems of ceremonial and
gift exchange that are found in nonliterate societies understand-
ably vary, as do other elements in culture. As far as the circula-
tion of goods is concerned, it must be recognized that the mere
fact that food and other perishable commodities, which everyone
possesses in amounts needed to satisfy fundamental wants, are
redistributed is not of itself greatly significant in the business of
getting a living, however important the rite of exchange may be
for the acquisition of prestige. This point becomes quite clear
when the situation in Guadalcanal, the Solomon Islands, is con-
sidered:

The same scale of comforts, or lack of them, is available to
all; everyone has to spend several hours of the day at the
same kind of work, all eat similar dishes prepared in the same
kind of utensils from the same sort of raw foods, and all
sleep on the same type of mats for beds. Wealth cannot be
used therefore directly for the benefit of the possessor. . . .
Every event of importance in a person's life ... is cele-
brated by a feast, and the more feasts a man gives, and the
more lavish he is in providing food, the greater his prestige. 1

Many societies, however, afford striking instances of the manner
in which economic and non-economic factors may combine to
produce economic results. One of these may be presented in some
detail, before certain further examples are indicated to show
how commonly non-economic mechanisms afford the means for
an exchange of goods and services.

FOR this example we turn again to the Kota of the Nilgiri hills of
India. Here, before European contact, the following situation
1 Hogbin (1938), 290.

GIFT AND CEREMONIAL EXCHANGE 157

obtained: The members of this tribe were musicians and artists
for the three neighboring folk of their area, the pastoral Toda,
the jungle-dwelling Kurumba, and the agricultural Badaga. Each
tribe had clearly defined and ritually regulated obligations and
prerogatives with respect to all the others. The Toda provided
the Kota with ghee for certain ceremonies and with buffaloes for
sacrifices at their funerals. The Kota furnished the Toda with the
pots and knives they needed in their everyday life and made
the music essential to Toda ceremonies. The Kota provided the
Badaga with similar goods and services, receiving grain in return.
They stood in the same exchange relationship with the forest
Kurumba, but these latter, who could only provide meagre ma-
terial compensation honey, canes, and occasionally fruits were
able to afford the Kota supernatural protection, since the Ku-
rumba were dreaded sorcerers, so feared that every Kota family
must have their own Kurumba protector against the magic which
others of this tribe might work against them.

In most of its aspects this intertribal relationship functioned on
a family basis. Each Kota household had a number of Badaga
families with whom it exchanged goods and services; and when,
for example, a Kota died, all these Badaga families were notified
so that they could provide the sacrificial animals needed. Once
a year, after the harvest, the Kota women made pots which they
took to the villages of their Badaga correspondents; they ritually
proffered them and were tendered a feast, after which they
departed, carrying away their annual provision of grain. The
Kota, also, were obligated to provide the Badaga with iron tools,
such as hoes, forks, and plowshares in traditional quantities.
Should a Badaga wish more of these utensils, he would have to
work in the field of the Kota iron-worker of whom he requested
them, while they were being forged. In the event of a dispute
between partners, the Kota village council considered the matter
and if, as was customary, they found the Badaga at fault, no Kota
might supply him with pots or tools. The Badaga's need of the
Kota was thus much greater than that of the Kota for the Badaga.
The Kota, that is, had fields to supply them, in an emergency,
with the food-stuffs they ordinarily received from the Badaga.
The Badaga, on the other hand, not only had no knowledge of
the techniques the Kota controlled, but, as a matter of fact, had
no desire to know them, since in the patterns of Indian life iron-

158 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

workers and those who play drums are on the lower rungs of
the social ladder.

The favorable position of the Kota with regard to the Badaga
was reversed in the case of the Kurumba, whose exercise of
magical power set at naught the material advantages the Kota
enjoyed. The Kurumba exacted all the market would bear, and
on occasion their demands were anything but modest. When a
Kota fell ill, for example, his relatives, indicating how they had
been regular and generous in sending gifts to their Kurumba
worker of magic, would complain that he had not fulfilled his
part of the agreement to keep them from harm. The customary
reply would be that some especially powerful Kurumba sorcerer
had been insulted by a Kota, or had become envious of their
good fortune, and was therefore sending unusually strong magic
against his victim. Only sustained effort, to be called forth by
the giving of extra gifts, might counteract this influence; and
since there was no other recourse, the Kota would have to give
more and more lavishly. Should the patient recover, more gifts
would be proffered the practitioner out of gratitude; should
death eventuate, not only would nothing be returned to the
family of the client, but the Kurumba "protector" would be
offered sympathy for having had to grapple with so powerful an
adversary.

The Toda, in their relation with the Kota, provided no
essential good to these people, nor, on the other hand, were they
at all dependent on Kota manufactures. It was rather the services
of the Kota as musicians that was needed by the Toda. The
"orchestral" instruments essential to Toda ceremonial clarinet,
trumpet, drum, and cymbals could be played by almost any
Kota, but by no Toda. As compensation, the Kota had the joy of
playing and the material return of the flesh from the buffaloes
that were sacrificed at the rites where they played. The Toda, for
their part, obtained services that were indispensable to the
ordering of their supernatural world.

Here we can clearly see how many factors enter into what,
from the point of view of the student concerned only with
economic phenomena, could be regarded as nothing more than
an exchange of goods and services. Yet it is apparent that social
position, religion, and family organization are all factors in giving
a firm texture to this complex of economic relationships. From the

GIFT AND CEREMONIAL EXCHANGE 159

point of view of the Kota, the ledger may be balanced somewhat
as follows: They benefited materially from their contacts with
the Badaga, since these were principally concerned with the
exchange of commodities under social and legal sanctions. They
suffered material loss in their dealings with the forest-dwelling
Kurumba, since here the return was non-material, the services of
a magician. As far as relationships with the Toda were concerned,
neither people enjoyed any appreciable material gain. Yet be-
cause of the sanction of tradition and the pleasure the Kota
derived in rendering their services to the Toda, they never
slighted their part of the exchange, the performance of which
was marked by a feeling-tone which strongly contrasted to that
which pervaded the other types of contact. 2

A final point to be raised in considering the mutual relation-
ships between these three groupings concerns the nicely balanced
reciprocity that has been considered a universal factor controlling
exchanges in what has been termed "tribal economies" of this
sort. 3 Looking only at the position of the Kota in the system, this
series of exchanges seems to work out in such a way as to give
them greater resources than they would otherwise have. Yet
from the point of view of the way in which the system operates,
as between the Kota and any of the other tribes, no such balance
is to be seen, nor are motivations anything but the most diverse.
"With the Todas, the reciprocity was amiable, with the Kurumba
it was terror fraught, and with the Badagas it was rather com-
petitive. Thus a Kota gave a Kurumba as much as he could afford;
to the Toda he donated freely, for he liked to play; to the Badaga
he gave with an eye to what he would receive.'* 4

This example of reciprocal exchanges, anything but balanced
in the returns they assure the participants for their contributions,
again illustrates the danger of too great a readiness to generalize
concerning the complex phenomena of social and economic life,
especially where the total range of variation in these institutions
is not taken fully into account.

MANY different types of exchange have been reported from
southeastern New Guinea and its adjoining islands. Tueting, who

2 Mandelbaum ( communicated ) . 4 Mandelbaum, ibid.

3 Malinowski (1921), 15.

l6o ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

has combed the literature, summarizes the general situation as
follows :

In Melanesia . . . commodities of great value such as pigs,
shell ornaments, and canoes are usually exchanged cere-
monially. Food and pots are almost always bartered. They
are rarely exchanged ceremonially except as gifts accom-
panying the main transaction. The same general pattern of
ceremonial exchange, found in southeastern New Guinea,
is also found throughout Melanesia. It is based on the recip-
rocal exchange of gifts between groups. The exchange
usually involves rivalry which is expressed in the quantity
and quality of gifts displayed and distributed, in debates,
dances, and in games. The local variations of this general
pattern are definitely stylized and when one form becomes
dominant in a group all classes of ceremonial exchange in
the group conform to it. ... The following classes of
ceremonial payments are found in Melanesia: life-crisis pay-
ments, fines, offerings, and ceremonial purchase of goods or
services. . . . Certain life-crisis payments, such as those
accompanying marriage, are found throughout Melanesia.
Payments at other crises such as pregnancy, birth, ear
piercing, or puberty have been recorded sporadically in
the area. 5

The numerous citations to the data which document these
points need not be repeated here. Some of the other instances
that have become available for this area since this statement and
its supporting materials appeared may, however, be mentioned
before examples of gift and ceremonial exchange from other
parts of the world are considered.

In Malekula, the idea that anything may be freely given is
unknown. "A gift is at most a venture, a hopeful speculation."
The native looks to receive "an advantage at least equal to the
value of his yam." Even though he may proffer a gift of con-
siderable size, with the assurance no return is desired, its accept-
ance will eventually be met with uncomplimentary references on
all occasions and until a return is received, hints of varying de-
grees of broadness that it should be reciprocated are heard. On
the other hand, "to make a return equal in value to the initial

6 Tueting, 38-9.

GIFT AND CEREMONIAL EXCHANGE l6l

gift is sufficient to avoid disgrace; but if a man desires to be well
spoken of he must give as repayment something of greater value
than that which he received in the first place." The constant ex-
changes of food and pigs which serve to unify the community by
binding it in "a network of obligations" also act as a mechanism
for the circulation of goods. These exchanges are usually of gifts
of relatively equal value, except in the rituals of certain societies,
where animals are given in payment for services or for the right
to display insignia. In such cases, however, "the exchanges are
. . . definitely valuable as a stimulus to work and for the need
to which they give rise for co-operative effort." G

Marriage in Bougainville, as so often elsewhere, is sanctioned
by exchanges of goods which, in this case, take the form of pay-
ments in the local currency. Here, however, the natives them-
selves are specifically reported to differentiate the ceremonial
from the economic aspects of the transaction. At the core of the
festivals that constitute the marriage rite is the fact that "what
we pay for is the woman's genitals." That is, the passage of these
goods conveys the right to her body for procreation of children
and for the satisfaction of the husband, though a woman acquired
as "wife as distinct from a woman in her capacity as individual"
is "not thereby prevented from being a person with any rights
of her own." The exchanges that accompany marriage bring on
far-reaching economic repercussions in the intertribal trade of the
region. Thus the people of Petats, at the time of a given marriage,
had obtained pots in exchange for women's hoods. The pots
were bartered to the folk of Lontis for taro, and with these pots
the Lontis group acquired pigs, which they were holding to sell
as the opportunity offered for the ceremonial "currency" made of
shell disks that must form the most important part of the property
to be exchanged at the rite for which preparations were being
made. 7

The regular distribution of economic goods among the Austral-
ian Yir-Yoront is reported to have been cared for, as a matter of
routine, by the gift-patterns of the kinship structure. Irregular
giving, which "usually amounts to compulsory exchange" often
occurs, as when a man who is known to possess tobacco will be
sent a "gift" by a distant relative whom he rarely sees. This is
tantamount to serving notice that a return of tobacco is expected,

G Deacon, 199-202. 7 Blackwood (1935), 97-9, 445-6.

l62 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

and in due course the return is made. "There is," however, "no
abnormal liberality in giving merely for the sake of increased
personal prestige, but the maintenance of a standard of prestige
is apparently an important factor in gift exchange." 8 This pattern
of gift exchange is reminiscent of the Daly River tribes already
cited. 9 However, the return for what is given is so delayed that
is, until the donor has become an elderly man that it is only by
extending the term "exchange" far beyond its customary signifi-
cance that the phenomenon can be thought of as falling in this
category at all, despite its importance as a system that ensures
the distribution of commodities. But we do find on the Daly
River an instance where the ceremonial aspect of exchange is
really subordinate to its economic end, for while the institution
of trading partners is flanked by accompanying rituals, the
emphasis placed by the natives on the relationship is essentially
economic.

Recognizing that gift-exchange is only one form of the circula-
tion of goods in aboriginal Australia, one none the less senses its
wide ramifications, economic and otherwise, in McCarthy's classi-
fication:

( 1 ) Gifts prescribed by kinship obligations.

(2) Gifts given to settle grievances or debts arising out of
an offense or crime by an individual or group ... to
settle a blood feud, and realize a revenge. These gifts
may or may not be reciprocated.

(3) Gift-exchange based on reciprocity in which gifts are
given to reciprocate a service (e.g. to mine red ochre
or stone, to have access to water in arid areas, to partic-
ipate in feasts, to repay a guardian during initiation),
or as a return for a gift of portable articles which may
be of the same character.

(4) Gift-exchange of the Merbok type in which objects pass
from one partner to another in many different local
groups and may be retained only temporarily. 10

Gift and ceremonial exchange were highly developed in Poly-
nesia, where, as in so many other areas, the motivating factor of
the process was a desire for the prestige to be derived from lavish

8 Sharp, 37-8. 10 McCarthy, 179.

9 See above, 116-17.

GIFT AND CEREMONIAL EXCHANGE l6g

giving. In some parts of this area, different kinds of goods are
reported to have been exchanged between the interested parties
and their followers, so that the economic aspect of the phenom-
enon must here as elsewhere be distinguished from its sociolog-
ical significance. Social grade was determined in Mangaia by the
quantity and quality of the gifts proffered by the family of the
bride on the occasion of a marriage, and by the size of the feast
marking the union. The exchange occurred some time later, when
the relatives of the bridegroom reciprocated with a feast which,
unless his family was willing to admit inferiority in status, had
to surpass the original celebration in the amount of food avail-
able and the quantity of gifts presented.

That "reciprocal feasts and presents form the standard pat-
terns of Polynesian weddings" 11 is a generalization entirely borne
out by the descriptions of wedding ceremonies on other islands.
Tongan marriage rites placed great stress on display and on the
exchange of wealth "gifts" between the families of the princi-
pals. In distributing what had been received by his son, the fa-
ther of the bridegroom kept in mind the amount each of his rela-
tives had donated toward the gift previously given the bride. It
was a matter of pride for him to see that everyone who had con-
tributed was given twice what he had donated. In this way the
distributor "often stripped his own house of all its possessions,
counting the social prestige of his family of greater value than
his material property." Should he fail to make everyone a return
deemed adequate, the social position of all members of his fam-
ily would fall, and his unmarried sons and daughters, as well as
his grandchildren, would be unable to marry as desirably as they
otherwise might. However, in addition to constituting a mech-
anism for accelerating the circulation of goods, these exchanges,
as was seen to be the case in Malekula, also stimulated produc-
tion, since "if the distributor had insufficient goods to meet the
demands, he set his household to work making tapa, mats, bas-
kets, and other articles required." The exchanges went on over a
considerable period; beginning with the ceremonial itself, the
giving of gifts might be prolonged a month or even two months. 12

Another form of gift exchange which, operating on a prestige
basis, facilitated the circulation of goods, existed on the island of
Niue under the name fakalofa, whereby goods or services prof-

"Hiroa (1934), 91. 12 Gifford (1929), 191 ff.

164 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

fered in friendship had to be returned in adequate measure.
When a catch of fish was made, or taro harvested, relatives of
the owner of these goods expected to receive a share "in the na-
ture of a fakalofa"; but the interchanges under this system were
really stabilized by feasts. When a man visited his relatives living
in another village, he was honored by a feast and a dance, the
most important feature of which was the exchange of compli-
mentary remarks between the principals and the enumeration of
the gifts each was about to make the other. Here deprecation of
one's own contribution and extravagant praise for what was re-
ceived were the order of the day. Any economic gain, however,
was negated for each party to the exchange by the attempts made
to outdo the other in giving; while another non-economic consid-
eration of importance was fear of the songs of ridicule that would
be composed to deride one who was "miserly in the exchange of
gifts." 13 On the island of Yap, in Micronesia, this same ritualized
pattern of competitive gift-giving facilitated exchange, dances
being but incidental to the distribution of money and other valu-
ables among the members of dance groups attending the festivi-
ties. These dance groups, in their songs, would specifically name
what they desired. The host was here likewise subject to ridicule
if mats of the type used for clothing, pandanus sleeping-mats,
feathers of the frigate bird, and other goods, together with
mussel-shell money of many kinds, were not at once forthcoming.
The villages which benefited from these "gifts" were, of course,
obligated at some later period to return what had been received;
thus all profited in terms of the increased prestige that accrued
to all concerned. 14

IN NORTH and South America, gift-giving on the basis of an
equivalent or increased return, between either individuals or
groups, and the ceremonial occasions when gifts are exchanged
have often been reported. It is unnecessary to make more than
passing reference to the potlatch ceremonies of the Northwest
Coast tribes, since these are classical in this connection and have
been as carefully and specifically described as any other of the
13 Loeb, 11S-16. 14 Muller, 262.

GIFT AND CEREMONIAL EXCHANGE 165

numerous available instances of ritualized display and distribu-
tion of goods among nonliterate groups. We need only recall the
competitive striving between chiefs, heads of clans, or individ-
uals for social prestige by means of the distribution and waste of
economically valuable goods on the taking of a name or on as-
suming a new rank, to "avenge" an insult or regain face after a
mishap, to indicate the importance of this body of custom as a
mechanism for the circulation of goods and, through the in-
creased production necessitated by the requirements of the pot-
latch, for the stimulation of the manufacture of more commod-
ities than would otherwise have been produced. As Codere has
put it:

Potlatching ... is more than any single potlatch. The pub-
lic distribution of property by an individual is a recurrent
climax in an endless series of cycles of accumulating prop-
erty distributing it in a potlatch being given property
again accumulating and preparing. The whole potlatch sys-
tem is a composition of these numerous individual potlatch
cycles and is supported and maximized in Kwakiutl by cer-
tain social and economic features. . . .

The amounts of property listed as having been distributed in
potlatches held between 1729 and 1936, where this has been re-
corded, when taken into account in terms of the social conven-
tions concerning the giving and receiving of potlatch goods,
document the effectiveness of this institution as a factor in Kwa-
kiutl distribution. 15

Among the Klamath of southern Oregon, the exchange of
goods at a marriage is likewise a significant factor in causing
commodities to move from hand to hand. The marriage payment,
which is described as "a social obligation," must be made by the
family of the bridegroom, and inability to pay means that the
family will be held in low social esteem. Yet though the payment
is "a seal of respectability," the burden it imposes does not en-
tirely rest upon the family of the bridegroom. After marriage, an
interchange of presents occurs, in which "the advantage lies most
frequently with the husband's family," who are thus reimbursed
in some measure for their original outlay. The economic impor-
tance of the arrangement for the tribesmen is reflected in the

15 Codcre, 63, 90-1.

l66 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

care taken by families of wealth to guard against the elopement
of a daughter, since such a mishap would involve the forfeiture
of the "suitable payment" that would otherwise follow. Among
the poor, since they have little to lose, no such care is taken.
However, even when elopements do occur, the families may pre-
serve the amenities by making the gifts "in proper form," as is
to be seen from the description of presentations that passed in
one case of this type:

It took a month to get ready to conduct a proper marriage.
Leleks made the trip across the mountains ... to get store
goods. A great many people went with them to Yainax, the
majority taking gifts of horses, blankets, clothing, or any-
thing they had. One man with nothing better stripped him-
self of his only shirt. It must be remembered that Plains
shirts were then newly fashionable and hence valuable. They
gave the horses they rode there, hoping for reciprocal gifts
on which to return. Horses to a total of ten were given the
groom's people. They gave horses and other gifts in return.
Payment having been made the affair was considered as
honorably ended, and as though the groom had sent an em-
issary in proper order.

The amounts involved vary with the wealth of those concerned.
"A chief gives a slave or more; a poor man buys with food. A
chief will not give his daughter for nothing; the groom must
continue to bring gifts even after the marriage." The exchanges
thus could go on for a considerable time; and, as has been indi-
cated, in the long run neither family experiences any serious dis-
advantage. The gifts that passed were horses, slaves, blankets,
beads, food (pond-lily seeds and roots), elk and other hides, and
strings of beads. 16

Certain California Indian tribes count the rank of husband,
wife, and children according to the amount given for a wife; and
the marriage of a woman, in spirit if not in status, has been de-
picted as something not far from a strictly commercial transac-
tion. The Yurok deemed it so important that sufficient economic
goods pass in validating a match that an arrangement termed
"half-marriage" was sometimes encountered; that is, a bride-
groom paid what he could afford for a desired wife and main-

16 Spier, 43-7.

GIFT AND CEREMONIAL EXCHANGE 167

tained his social status by working for his father-in-law until the
remainder was considered as having been paid, thus effecting a
combined payment of goods and services. Much of the property
comprising the price of a "complete" marriage, carefully agreed
upon beforehand, was given at the ceremony, and a large part of
what was thus received seems to have been distributed immedi-
ately by the father of the bride. In addition, certain other goods
which were brought with the bride by her father included such
items as baskets of dentalia ( the prestige currency of these peo-
ple), otter-skins and other compact valuables, a canoe or two,
and several deerskin blankets. These "seem to have passed in this
way among the wealthy, without any previous bargaining or
specification. In this way a rich father voluntarily returned part
of the payment made him. . . . However, on a divorce taking
place, these gifts must be returned as fully as the stipulated pur-
chase price." The Porno, on the other hand, effectuated marriage
by quite a different pattern of exchange of gifts. No bargaining
occurred until the specific amounts were to be fixed, since it was
this that involved the establishment and maintenance of social
position. The bridegroom gave beads and deerskins to his bride's
parents, who in return might give baskets. 17

Circulation of goods within the Hopi pueblos is almost ex-
clusively achieved by means of gifts and the payment of forfeits
in winter games, exchanges at weddings, the distribution of food
to work parties, and the passing of commodities at ceremonies of
birth and naming, at initiation, at funerals, and on the perform-
ance of various religious rites. Hopi trade exchange "differs from
gift exchange in that the first valuation only is set by custom
whereas the final contract is usually the result of individual bar-
gaining, and much depends on personal initiative and oppor-
tunity" 1S a statement which has a much wider applicability
than in this instance alone. "As in other pueblos," the giving of
presents in Taos, at fiestas or while making visits, is a deep-rooted
tradition. Here, however, the line of emphasis on the non-eco-
nomic aspects of the exchanges is so slight that it is difficult to
distinguish this form of circulation of goods from actual trading
and it is, indeed, described as a "near form of trade." Some in-
stances of Taos gift exchange have been provided us: one woman
who went to a fiesta at Jemez was there given four silver and

17 Kroeber, 29-32, 254-5. 18 BeaglehoIe (1937), 81.

l68 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

turquoise rings, two pieces of pottery, and two bread baskets by
her friends, "presents for which some return will be made when
the Jemez women visit Taos." For a pottery bowl a return pres-
ent of money ( fifty cents ) was made; for two rings, a bead neck-
lace was given. 19

Exchanges based on gift-giving and other non-economic insti-
tutions also existed on the Plains and in the Southeast. Among
the Plains tribes described by Denig, marriage was influenced
and implemented by economic considerations. A man first tried
to induce the girl he wished to marry to run away with him. If
she acquiesced and the mating was to be made a permanent ar-
rangement that is, he did not discard her he would offer her
parents what he could afford when called on to satisfy the mar-
riage requirements, being obviously in a much better bargaining
position than if he had been unsuccessful in prevailing upon the
girl to elope. Just how important a part of the distributive process
marriage constituted is made evident by the fact that until the
girl bore a child, the son-in-law had to give most of the meat and
the skins of all the animals killed by him to his wife's parents.
Non-ceremonial gift-giving was also an important exchange
mechanism among these upper Missouri tribes.

An Indian never gives away anything without an expectation
of a return or some other interested motive. If one observes
another in possession of a fine horse he would like to have
he will take the occasion of some feast or dance and publicly
present him with a gun or something of value, flattering his
bravery, praising his liberality, and throwing out several
hints as to his object, though not directly mentioning it. He
will let the matter rest thus for some days, and if the other
does not present him with the horse will demand his gift
returned, which is done.

At times, when a horse was given as a gift and its recipient gave
it to another, its return might be asked by the original donor on
the ground that the gift was not to be transferred. Smaller gifts
were looked upon as loans and were generally repaid "they may
be considered as exchange of necessities which they take this
way to effect." 20

19 Parsons ( 1936a), 25. *> Denig, 510-11, 475.

GIFT AND CEREMONIAL EXCHANGE 169

Swanton reports a number of cases among the Creek, described
in the early literature, where gift exchange seemed to be an im-
portant mechanism for the circulation of goods within the com-
munity. Bartram is quoted as saying:

If one goes to another's house and is in want of any necessity
that he or she sees, and says, I have need of such a thing, it
is regarded as only a polite way of asking for it and the re-
quest is for with granted, without ceremony or emotion; for
he knows he is welcome to the like generous and friendly
return at any time. . . .

Swanton feels that at times this practice was no more than ordi-
nary borrowing, but on occasion, borrowing was of a different
kind, "in which equivalent values were exchanged instead of
identical objects." His assumption, based on intimate knowledge
of present-day Indian inhabitants of the region, is that each fam-
ily was "pretty acutely conscious of its credit or debit as regards
every other family, and that a persistent 'sponge' was looked
down upon and avoided." 21

GIFT-OWING as the mechanism for the circulation of basic com-
modities among the South American Pilaga has been studied by
Henry in one of the few quantitative analyses of distribution
available for non-pecuniary societies. It is apparent, however,
that this case presents some difficulties of classification. The giv-
ing, though motivated by a complex of magico-social factors,
cannot be regarded as ceremonial in the sense of most of the in-
stances cited in this chapter. The institution, that is, functions
as a system of exchange only in the sense that gifts call for re-
turns in kind.

The presentations, to an overwhelming degree, consist of food
"only about five per cent" of these distributions are of other
commodities. In drawing the tables in which circulation is indi-
cated, the problem of definition of units was faced in the follow-
ing manner: "Where one object changes hands; where two
people the giver and the receiver are involved, where several
people are invited to a ... 'dipping into the pot/ all are treated

21 Swanton (1928), 334-5.

170

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Distribution expressed as (1) number of persons receiving from and giving

to specific individuals; (2) relation between number of distributions made

and number of distributions received (i.e. participated in).

Difference
between
number of
persons
given

Re-

Distribu-

to and

Gives

ceives

tions

tions re-

number re-

Name of person

Sex

to*

from b

made

ceived d

ceived from e

1. Adiotina

-2

2. Adichi *

3. Aichotn

4-18

4. Alpa * (UP) f

-4

5. Arana

+ 13

6. Chiyawolik * (UP)

-4

7. Diwa'i

4-5

8. Hawachi *

4-1

9. lya'i *

4-4

10. lyetolik

4-7

11. Kachina*

4-1

12. Kadamaitn * (UP)

-3

13. Kalachiyoli

4-15

14. Kiyanokaiki *

4-10

15. Komaraik

4-11

16. Kosivai *

4-8

17. Kyarai*(UP)

-15

18. Lorosetina

-i

19. Lyatarai * (UP)

-9

20. Nagete

4-9

21. Nenarachi

4-3

22. NyoroPi

-2

23. Oma'i *

4-15

24. Parana! (UP)

-7

25. Pasadi *

-6

26. Piyarasaina

-6

27. Pucharai

-2

28. Sidinki

4-30

29. Sutaraina

-8

30. Waik (UP)

-8

31. Waina*

4-13

32. Waluchitn*

4-24

33. Yalachitn

4-6

34. Yamada'i (UP)

-7

35. Yawotnyi

4-3

36. Yorodaik*

4-1

Individuals marked with an asterisk are residents in Kiyanokaiki's part of the village.

Read, "Adiotina gives to eight persons; Adichi gives to 10 persons, etc.
b Read, "Adiotma receives from ten persons, etc."

Read, "Adiotina made three distributions, etc "

d Read, "Adiotina got part of 16 distributions made by other people, etc "

Read, "Adiotina gave to two persons less than she received from, Adichi gave to nine persona
more than he received from, etc "

1 The notation (UP) means "unable to produce.*' Of those so marked numbers 4, 6, 12, 19, 24 and
30 are old and blind; 17 and 34 are old women.

GIFT AND CEREMONIAL EXCHANGE 171

as distributions, as are the cases in which an individual gives
many things, like fish, to many people."

A summary of the exchanges may be presented in terms of the
tables given by Henry. The first shows, for thirty-six individual
Pilaga for whom "ledgers" of income and outgo were kept, the
distributions made and received, and the net loss or gain as indi-
cated by the numbers to whom food was given or from whom it
was received.

It is apparent that the Pilaga gives far more than he receives.
The net number of persons to whom goods were given is 206,
while that from whom they were received by the 36 persons for
whom the exchanges are tabulated is only 86. The range of dis-
tributions made and received is as follows:

Distribution ranges in terms of (1) persons giving and receiving; (2) number
of distributions made and received

Number

persons

distribu-

persons

times

persons

receiv-

giv-

tions

distrib-

received

receiv-

ing

ing a

made

uting b

from

ing 1 ^

ing

ing d

172

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

II Continued

Distribution ranges in terms of (1) persons giving and receiving; (2) number
of distributions made and received

Number

Number Number

Number

of
persons
receiv-

of
persons

of
distribu-
tions

of of
persons persons
distrib- received

of of
persons times
receiv- receiv-

of
persons
receiv-

ing

*"g

made

uting b from

ing c ing

ing d

* Read, "Five persons give to no one, etc "

b Read, "Five people distribute never, three people distribute once, etc."

c Read, "Two persons received from no one, etc "

d Read, "Two people rec -ive never, four people receive once, etc "

The imbalance indicated in these tables is of considerable in-
terest, especially in the light of the discussion of economic equi-
librium that has figured so largely in discussions of economic
theory. For it is apparent that if outgo exceeded income in the
ratio of 3 to 1 indicated in these tables, it would be impossible
for the economy to function. This is rendered more complex by
the fact that "although most persons receive from fewer individ-
uals than they give to, they receive relatively often from, and so
depend on, a relatively small number of people."

The point is made in the following terms:

Thus there are always some to whom the Pilaga gives but
who do not give to them; while at the same time, one gen-

GIFT AND CEREMONIAL EXCHANGE 173

erally receives more frequently than one gives away. The
Pilag&'s "books" are therefore never in ''balance," hence the
common complaint in Pilaga society, "I have given to him
but he gives not to me." Hence also, the anxiety one fre-
quently hears expressed, "I have not given him food, there-
fore he sorcerizes me." The attitude of being at once society's
creditor and debtor, of being simultaneously deprived and
obligated, are . . . related to the peculiar structure of Pi-
laga economic relations.

The problem was further analyzed when the ratio between the
quantities of food received and given away was considered. In
this case, "income" income, that is, "from sources other than
one's own productivity" equalled outgo in but three of the thirty-
six cases. It exceeded outgo in fifteen instances, and was ex-
ceeded by outgo in seventeen. This figure is changed somewhat
if the five persons who were "unable to produce" and made no
distributions at all, are subtracted from the fifteen, in which case
the ratio is ten to seventeen, or 5:8.5. Henry's comment on this is
cogent: "While the productive Pilaga makes up this difference
by keeping enough of his product to fill the gap between what he
gives away and what he receives from others, yet, psycholog-
ically speaking, this constant gap between income and outgo be-
comes an important factor in the way the Pilaga experiences his
economic relations." It is thus apparent that the problem of equi-
librium here has two facets, one of the type customarily treated,
of ratio between income and outgo over the economy of the so-
ciety as a whole; the other relating to motivation and the balance
felt by the individual in his functioning capacity as a member of
the society.

This latter becomes the more complex when all the factors that
come into play are taken into account. "A single pattern" does
not determine this economic behavior. "Rather, it is determined
by several lines of force, each one of which kinship obligations,
residence, expectations of marriage, dependency, fear of shamans
radiates from a different 'pattern/ a different area of traditional
behavior." Thus again we are faced with inner forces playing on
an economic order which, simple in character even to the degree,
as among the Pilaga, that the people do not live far removed
from the subsistence level, on further analysis turns out to be of

174 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

a considerable order of complexity in the interrelationships
among persons that constitute its essential mechanism. 22

AN OUTSTANDING example of a ceremonial device for the transfer
of wealth is that which, among the cattle peoples of East Africa,
has variously been termed "brideprice" or "bridewealth." It is in
effect a contractual relationship entered into by the families of a
bride and a groom, whereby the groom, as surety of good be-
havior toward his future wife, and in compensation to her family
for her loss, tenders his future father-in-law a payment that con-
sists principally of cattle, but, in addition, may include other
goods and services. How actual a redistribution of these valuable
goods is achieved in the process is evident from the fact that in
many cases the cattle, which are the really important commod-
ities involved, are contributed by various members of the "ex-
tended family" to which the bridegroom belongs. They are in
turn distributed by the father of the bride to those of his relatives
who may, for example, have aided him at an earlier time in gath-
ering the cattle he needed to make possible the marriage of a
son. Ji According to Richards, who has summarized the literature
for the southern part of the cattle-owning area, this spread of
responsibility among the relatives of the contracting parties tends
to stabilize a marriage. An early work by MacLean on Kaffir
law, which she quotes to make the point, states:

The cattle paid for the bride are divided amongst her male
relations, and are considered by law to be held in trust for
the benefit of herself and children, should she be left a
widow. She can accordingly legally demand assistance from
any of those who have partaken of her dowry, and her chil-
dren can apply to them on the same ground for something to
begin the world with. 24

A detailed analysis of this institution of "bridewealth" among
the Tswana describes two essentials to marriage: an agreement

22 Jules Henry, passim. and their social and economic func-

23 See Pearsall, passim, for a con- tions.

cise presentation of the various 24 Richards (1932), 124 ff.

forms of bridewealth in East Africa

GIFT AND CEREMONIAL EXCHANGE 175

mutually reached by the two contracting families, and a transfer
of "certain livestock, generally cattle, to the bride's family by the
family of the bridegroom." These cattle are termed bogadi. Their
importance to the Tswana is that they are the mark of a legal
marriage, for a man may live many years with a concubine to
whom he gives free gifts of cattle without ever being regarded
as married to her, since the bogadi will not have passed. Yet de-
spite the fact that the institution is not recognized as an eco-
nomic mechanism by the people themselves, its economic aspects
make it as important in this respect as it is in the social aspects
of their culture. An informal agreement, looking toward ulti-
mate betrothal, may be concluded when a girl is still a baby or
even yet unborn. Gifts are given thenceforward from time to time
to the family of the girl by that of her fiance, the formal be-
trothal being marked by sending an animal to the girl's people
for slaughter, or by such goods as dress materials, blankets, and
shawls for the girl herself to wear. The family of the girl, on the
other hand, proffer a small feast to mark the occasion. Should the
agreement be later nullified through the fault of the girl, all
gifts received by her family must be returned; if the lad is cul-
pable, her family not only keep what has been sent them, but
demand additional compensation. At the wedding the actual
transfer of the bogadi cattle takes place, as well as lavish distri-
butions of food by the families of both bride and bridegroom.

Whether or not the wives of men in nonliterate societies are
purchased like other articles of commerce is a question that will
be considered in a later chapter. Whatever the position one takes,
it is clear that among the Tswana any such interpretation of the
custom of bogadi is quite unjustified. For it should be again em-
phasized that as far as the attitudes of those who practice this
custom are concerned, it is a non-economic institution. Its aim
is to legitimize a mating and to permit a man to lay proper
claim to his children, who, without the passing of these animals,
would be retained by the family of their mother. One of the
beasts must be a female, so that there may be a natural increase
in the herd; but the number which must pass in any given match
is not fixed and there is no bargaining. Each family thus gives
what it can afford. The betrothal once having been approved, the
girl's family is bound to accept what is offered, the number of
head varying in this tribe from six to ten. The animals are con-

176 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

tributed here, as elsewhere in South Africa, by various members
of the bridegroom's family; and upon their receipt are allocated
to the proper relatives of the bride, to be held in trust to meet
the demands of certain eventualities for which they may later be
needed. 25

Among the Gusii of Kenya, to the north, the transfer of cattle
"provides in various ways for the maintenance of the equilibrium
brought about by an initial bridewealth transaction." One line-
age, which loses a woman to another, restores the balance by the
receipt of the cattle given as bridewealth. Yet,

As long as B have possession of the woman ( or an adequate
number of her children ) , they are obliged to maintain group
A in full possession of the bridewealth equivalent. Con-
versely, as long as A have possession of the bridewealth ani-
mals (or an adequate number of their progeny), they are
obliged to maintain B in possession of the woman. In neither
case does the obligation cease after A have passed the bride-
wealth on to a third party.

Should a wife die, or the couple separate, the bridewealth must
be returned, wholly or in part. Thus, a widower who had given
ten cows for his wife, by whom he had one surviving child, would
receive from her family nine cows and one heifer. The various
systems become more complex if more of the dead woman's chil-
dren survive her, but the principle of recompense is clear. Fur-
thermore, when bridewealth is given, it passes in stages which
again demonstrate the workings of the principle of maintaining
equilibrium:

1. ... A surrenders the rights of ownership over the herd,
but retains physical possession of it. B binds himself to sur-
render certain rights over the girl and her offspring, but
retains physical possession of her. ... 2. ... A surren-
ders physical possession of the main part of the herd but
retains one or more animals. B surrenders physical posses-
sion of the girl, but retains right to take her back in case of
disagreement. ... 3. ... A surrenders physical possession
of the remaining animals: the entire herd has now been fi-
nally transferred to B. B surrenders the right to recover cus-
M Schapera (1938), 125-47.

GIFT AND CEREMONIAL EXCHANGE 177

tody of the girl: she has now been finally attached to the*
lineage of A.

Marriage, which has appeared most often in these instances
of gift exchange as the occasion on which the transfer of goods
outstandingly occurs, must not be thought to be the sole vehicle
of these kinds of non-economic circulation. As has been seen for
New Guinea, 27 where such modes of distribution are particularly
highly developed and numerous, the occasions on which ex-
changes can occur in non-economic ritual settings are varied in
the extreme. The same is true for Africa and elsewhere; as an
instance of this we may cite the elaborate funeral rites of Da-
homey, West Africa. Here again, despite the fact that in the mind
of the native the only economic element that rises into conscious-
ness is the waste involved in the destruction of valuable goods
and the cost of a funeral to the family that gives it, a consid-
erable quantity of goods actually changes hands. Only the brief-
est mention of the economically significant elements in these
involved "partial" and "definitive" burials can be given here, but
they are sufficient to make the point. They include the provision,
by the sons-in-law of the deceased, of the food needed by the
mourning family of their wives; the cowries and drink paid the
grave-digger on various occasions when he performs his func-
tions; the repeated gifts of money, drinks, and kerchiefs pre-
sented to those who play the funerary drums; the constant stream
of cloths, cowries, food, and drink that moves into the hands of
the official in charge of the rites and, to a lesser degree, of his
assistants; the gifts given each mourner by his best friend to con-
sole him. On the occasion of the "definitive burial," the amounts
involved are increased by the spirited competition in gift-giving
by the spouses of the children of the dead, where each summons
the members of the mutual aid society he has joined to ensure
his ability to perform adequately on just such an occasion, to
"push" him, so his contribution will be honorably larger than that
given by the others with whom he competes. In addition to the
consumption of great quantities of food and drink, and the goods
that are buried with the dead or destroyed in the course of the
ritual, the distribution of much wealth in the form of gifts given

26 Mayer, 38, 13-14, 47, and 27 Hogbin (1934), 98.

passim.

178 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

participants in such ceremonies must be taken into account.
These gifts in some measure represent something of a process of
redistribution comparable to those other instances that have been
considered here, though not to any degree that would equalize
return with outgo for the family giving the funeral.

IT is unfortunately not possible at the present stage of our knowl-
edge of comparative economics to be more specific concerning
the degree to which these extra-economic practices affect the cir-
culation of goods within a given society. We are told, for exam-
ple, that on Ontong Java an exchange of food such as is made at
betrothals, births, or funerals on one occasion consisted of two
taro puddings, each almost four feet square, while the return gift
included 16,000 coconuts and ten baskets of fish. An important
series of annotated native drawings which represent amounts of
food prepared for distribution in the feasts of the Koita of south-
eastern New Guinea has been reproduced by Seligman: 10 heaps
of bananas, each with the figure 10 under it are indicated, and 3
paired yam-heaps of 200 each. Sugar-cane 3 uprights each sup-
porting 4 canes, and 18 other single stalks, each with a pot of
food beside it is also shown. 28 On the Polynesian island of Uvea,
again, we read that at the marriage of a woman of royal rank a
pile of 500 mats was among the collection of gifts to be ex-
changed by the families of the principals. 29 The large quantities
of valuable goods given away, later to be returned with generous
increment, at the potlatch ceremonies of the Indians of the
Northwest Coast indicate how important this phenomenon may
be from a purely economic point of view. 30

That those who have stressed the necessity for a careful study
of the non-economic forms of exchange in nonliterate societies
have taken a step toward a clearer understanding of the eco-
nomics of these communities is evident, for they have brought
into the foreground certain interrelations that had long gone un-
perceived. Yet the essentially non-economic approach implicit

28 Seligman ( 1910), Pis. XV, XVI, ever, Burnett (353, quoted on 226

29 Burrows, 578. below ) , for a significant caution on

30 Boas (1897), 341 ff. See, how- this point.

GIFT AND CEREMONIAL EXCHANGE 179

in this position, oriented as it is toward the more conventional
anthropological interest in social relationships, leaves much to be
done. For even where the economic importance of the exchange
of goods and services is emphasized, such matters as the amounts
of goods exchanged in the course of rites, and more importantly,
the proportion of these goods to the total amount that circulates
as a result of the operation of the more routine methods of dis-
tributing commodities, are rarely touched upon. For the present
we must be content with the knowledge that significant modes of
distribution, not to be classified under the rubrics of conventional
economics, do exist in most societies, and for the rest, recognize
that the study of all these methods is essential if we are to have
a valid picture of the total distributive process in the societies
where patterns of this kind are found.

CHAPTER IX

TRADE AND BARTER

WE MAY now consider those instances of the circulation of goods
when objects are exchanged with the primary aim of obtaining
commodities, rather than to sustain or increase the prestige of
the giver. In analyzing these instances of trade, properly speak-
ing, we shall therefore be considering exchanges of values, specifi-
cally designated in terms of other goods or of such money as may
circulate among the people concerned, rather than with codes of
polite behavior under which bargaining may be absent, or when
the procedure does not consist of a kind of patterned deprecation
or the vaunting of prowess.

It may be indicated that whereas gift and ceremonial exchange
usually accompany the sealing of some friendly pact, as in cases
of exchange incident upon marriage, trade is often consummated
with an underlying sense of hostility, none the less real for the
conventionalized expressions of friendship which frequently ac-
company it. Even such an institution as the potlatch of the North-
west Coast of North America, wherein the ceremonial exchanges
take the form of patterned hostility, does not necessarily consti-
tute evidence against this statement. Commenting on the phe-
nomenon, Mauss observes that the Tlingit and the Haida them-
selves explain the nature of the potlatch by the statement that
"the two phratries show respect for each other." l What is meant
by this can be clarified by reference to our own society when the
attitudes that accompany the (delayed) ceremonial exchanges
that mark a wedding or the birth of a child are contrasted with
those that characterize many business transactions of any appre-
ciable consequence. More overt in expression are comparable

1 Mauss, 37.

180

TRADE AND BARTER l8l

phenomena among the Copper Eskimo, where trade is preceded
by wrestling matches to find out which party is the stronger. 2

This difference in the point of view regarding exchanges to
achieve economic and non-economic ends leads us to another
observation. The economic role of ceremonial and gift exchange
seems in many, perhaps a majority of instances, to be that of
achieving the circulation of goods within a given group. Hence,
especially in economically less complex societies where little
specialization of labor exists, such exchanges appear to result in
the redistribution of commodities that are in some measure pos-
sessed by everyone. Trade, on the other hand, is usually inter-
tribal, and involves the acquisition of goods not available in one's
own group. A citation which clearly makes the point for a spe-
cific culture, that of the island of Tanga, may be given here:

The whole distribution process consists of a constant ex-
change of gifts between individuals and between groups of
individuals. . . . There is little or no barter between the
natives themselves, but when they visit other groups, sup-
plies of shell currency . . . , red dye . . . , betel nut
. . . , combs . . . and such items are exchanged for pigs
. . . , plank-canoes . . . , pan-pipes . . . , small log drums
. . . etc. 5

In brief, the values involved in non-economic forms of exchange
are prestige values, while trade is concerned primarily with the
transfer of goods whose principal value derives from their utility
in meeting the demands of everyday existence. Yet how imper-
ceptibly gift-giving can shade into trade in the same society is to
be seen in a series of categories of exchange in the Trobriand Is-
lands drawn by Malinowski:

( 1 ) Pure gifts.

(2) Customary payments, repaid irregularly and without
strict equivalence.

(3) Payment for services rendered.

(4) Gifts returned in economically equivalent form.

(5) Exchange of material goods against privileges, titles,
and non-material possessions.

2 Jcnncss, 49. 3 Bell, 308.

l82 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

(6) Ceremonial barter with deferred payment.

(7) Trade pure and simple. 4

This same shading can also be seen in the various ways in
which the circulation of goods and rendering of services were
classified by the Puyallup-Nisqually of the Puget Sound area of
western North America. These differ from the categories just
given in that, being recognized and named with native terms by
the Indians themselves, they do not derive from the ordering of
data by the ethnographers. The Puyallup-Nisqually categories
were:

(1) tgwis: to swap, to exchange one article for another of
the same kind.

( 2 ) otdgc: to exchange one article for another of a different
sort.

(3) obetsdleg": to pay for property not yet in existence, to
hire something made.

( 4 ) kelosad: payment for services of a shaman in curing.

(5) abdlts: to give something as a gift. "Giving of this type
was viewed not in relation to the absolute value or de-
sirability of the article itself but entirely in relation to
the prestige of the donor. Although such giving was
often reciprocal, there was no necessary reciprocity of
value."

(6) dbahq": to "buy their good will," gifts given to assuage
a strained relationship; "when you take something to
somebody so you won't be afraid of them any more."

(7) tsolaxl: "free" gifts proffered on visits between affinal
relatives.

(8) Ceremonial distribution of property:

(a) opdkad: to give property at a ceremony and not
expect any return.

(b) o'eu*: to give property for assistance during a cere-
mony, with no return expected, but eventually re-
ceived at a ceremony given by donor.

(d) obtcdliq": to bet; this was done between villages. 5
4 Malinowski (1922), 176 ff. 5 M. W. Smith, 146-50.

TRADE AND BARTER 183

The problems arising in the study of trade as carried on by
nonliterate peoples involve many questions having to do with
the determination of value and the nature of the market. How
important, relatively, are utility, prestige, and the amount of
labor that goes into the production of a given commodity in de-
termining its worth? When this is expressed in terms of other
goods, to what extent are these found to react to the influence of
such market phenomena as supply and demand, especially as
this may be evidenced in artificial control of supply as we know
it by those monopolies which are occasionally encountered in
nonliterate cultures? To what extent do considerations of gain
influence the trading operations of peoples in these societies?
What is the degree to which traders are actuated by the need to
dispose of surpluses in order to obtain goods of which they have
need? How extensive, indeed, are the trading activities of non-
literate peoples?

We cannot at the present state of our documentation pretend
to do more than phrase most of these questions. Despite much
information concerning the incidence of trade routes, the nature
of the goods traded, and even the manner in which those who
take part in such transactions come together, we only infre-
quently encounter in the literature any but the most cursory ac-
counts of how much one commodity is worth in terms of other
commodities, while we almost never find any detailed descrip-
tion of what actually was exchanged in any specific transaction.
In short, we lack very nearly all the essential data for an under-
standing of the phenomena of price and value in non-industrial
and non-pecuniary societies, even though some a priori discus-
sion of these matters has found its way into the literature of both
economics and anthropology. This is particularly to be regretted
since, as the point has been phrased, "the heart of economics,
both in its narrower and its broader aspects, is the theory of
value." (i

The forms of trade have in some cases been employed as des-
ignations of entire economies, and the resulting types have been
used in setting up hypothetical developmental series supposedly
marking off the evolution of economic life. Thus while Gras has
suggested 7 that Hildebrandt's "stages" of the development of
economic systems barter, money, and credit economies must

6 Hoyt ( 1926), 4. 7 Gras ( 1930), 468.

184 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

be revised into the progression of gift economy, gift barter econ-
omy, pure barter, and money barter, he nevertheless envisages
them as primarily useful as marking off the stages of a sequence
of growth. Yet, here again, this assumption as to the origin or
evolution of institutions derived from reference to living nonliter-
ate peoples and not susceptible of objective archaeological proof
must, like others of its kind, be rejected as scientifically invalid.

With this reservation in mind, however, such a classification as
this, if it is understood to represent no more than a useful de-
vice for arranging material, can be of value. The type of gift
economy that Gras describes a system held to have existed in
the earliest days of mankind, when the passage of free gifts was
the only means of effectuating the circulation of goods certainly
is not found in the economy of any living people, as has been
demonstrated by Mauss in the work already cited. Nor can gift
barter economy, conceived as a development from this initial
"stage," be accepted as fulfilling the implications of the designa-
tion given it. For, as has been shown, ceremonial interchange of
goods between individuals or groups often involves no bartering
at all; while ritualized exchanges of this type, though providing
for the circulation of goods within a tribe, frequently accom-
panies intertribal trade. 8

We may therefore indicate the following logical as against
developmental categories which can be employed to classify
the mechanisms for the circulation of commodities that exist in
primitive societies; gift and ceremonial exchange, barter, money
barter, and exchange based on the use of money. Two cautions
in the use of these categories must be emphasized. In the first
place, it must be understood that they represent merely different
kinds of exchange, carrying no connotation of "earlier," "later,"
or any other type of progression. Secondly, as actually found over
the earth, these types so merge into one another, and any one of
them so combines elements of the others, that the assignment of
a given system of exchange to a given category must, in the main,
be a matter of emphasis. Examples of gift and ceremonial ex-
change, the first type, were presented in preceding pages. A dis-
cussion of the last two categories, those of money barter and

8 Cf. also Schmidt (1926), 178; 115-16 for other series of develop-
(1920-1), II, 27; and Hoyt (1926), mental categories.

TRADE AND BARTER 185

exchange based on the use of money, will be given in succeeding
chapters. Here, then, we shall treat of barter, those instances of
goods exchanged for other goods without the intervention of
some least common denominator of value. We shall likewise seek
to discover how extensive are the trading operations carried out
on this level by non-pecuniary folk.

THE SO-CALLED "silent trade" is a specialized form of barter,
wherein goods are exchanged without any meeting of the two
parties to the transaction. The procedure is for one of the princi-
pals to deposit in a customary spot whatever commodities are
to be traded, while the other, the receiver of these goods, leaves
in their place some other commodity or commodities which cus-
tom has established as equivalents. This institution has aroused
widespread interest and speculation among students of presumed
early forms of trade, so that numerous instances of it have been
recorded. 9 The classical, and probably the best-known descrip-
tion of the silent trade was given by Herodotus, who told how
the exchanges of goods were effected between the Carthaginians
and the peoples who lived on the west coast of the African con-
tinent, beyond the Pillars of Hercules. 10 Ibn Batuta, the Arabic
traveler, gave some attention to the silent trade as it was carried
on in the far northern "Land of Darkness." Here "goods," of a
kind not specified, were customarily deposited by merchants at
"the Darkness," where natives repaired during the night, taking
what they found and leaving "skins of sable, miniver and er-
mine." Whenever the merchants were not satisfied with the pay-
ment left for them, they refused to take away the skins. On
returning the next day, they would either find that more skins
had been added to the number previously deposited, or that the
goods originally deposited had been returned.

Similar means of effectuating "silent" exchanges occur today,
or did occur until very recent times, between the Chuckchee of
Siberia and the inhabitants of Alaska, between the lowland Chris-
tians of Northern Luzon and the Negritos, and between the

9 Cf . Grierson. 10 Herodotus, Bk. IV, Ch. 193.

l86 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Bantu of the Congo and their pygmy neighbors. 11 An instance
from California of the silent trade has been given in the follow-
ing passage:

The trips the Tlibatulabal made beyond the borders of their
own area led them, in early historic times at least, to points
a hundred miles or more west and southwestward, and
somewhat shorter distances north and eastward. . . . Being
mainly at peace with their immediate neighbors, the Tiiba-
tulabal were able to pass through alien territory with a mini-
mum of risk from sudden attacks. By a system of silent trade
they exchanged the pinons, balls of prepared tobacco, and
other commodities they had brought with them, for lengths
of white clam-shell disks which passed as currency among
all the tribes of this region. 12

Schmidt cites a number of cases of trade of this type from
Maylasia and elsewhere, 13 Hoyt sketches the "border line" ver-
sion of it which takes place between the Siassi islanders and the
Jabim of New Guinea, 14 and Thurnwald, giving instances of this
form of trading between Veddas and Singhalese in Ceylon, and
between Kpelle and Cola in Liberia, also refers to examples con-
tained in a volume written about 1500 by a Novgorod merchant,
entitled Chronicle of Unknown Men in Eastern Regions. 15 The
exchange of fish for taro between the Manus and the Usiai folk
of the Admiralty Islands might well come under the heading of
the silent trade, though only as a border-line case, 10 while the
procedures of the Kiwai Papuans, among whom this kind of ex-
change is an accepted method of suing for peace after hostilities,
suggests that the device may have functioned at an earlier time
as a more purely economic institution in this area. 17 A variant of
silent exchange that exists as an adjunct to the more customary
type is reported from New Caledonia. Here trading parties from
the coast meet those of the inland tribes at a stated rendezvous,
to exchange definite amounts of fresh and dried fish and crus-
tacea for tubers of various sorts:

n Schechter, 613, 576-7. 15 Thurnwald (1932b), 149-50.

12 Vogelin, 3. lfl Mead (193()b), 118.

18 Schmidt, M. (1920-1), II, 149 ff. 17 Landtman ( 1927), 216.
14 Hoyt (1926), 134.

TRADE AND BARTER 187

Each puts down his load, and chooses another in return,
which he takes home with him. If by chance one of the par-
ties cannot come at the time agreed upon, the one who has
brought goods to exchange leaves his load on the ground
where his tardy partner finds them later, leaving what he has
to give in return in the same place. I have often admired the
way these piles of goods, left at the roadside with no one to
watch them, remain untouched until they are taken away by
the person for whom they were intended. 18

The questions that have been posed concerning the reasons
for the existence of the silent trade need not long detain us, inas-
much as none of the hypotheses that has been advanced can be
given objective proof. To hold that the existence of such an in-
stitution proves that trading in general originated in hostility be-
tween tribes, as Grierson maintains, is merest conjecture, difficult
even of substantiation by the customary method of referring to
the customs of living nonliterate folk. 19 It is equally a matter of
guess whether or not, as both Schmidt and Grierson believe, this
kind of trade developed between tribes of unequal degrees of
cultural achievement, which caused them to conduct their trade
on the basis of this silent exchange, since they could not meet on
a plane of equality. Hoyt variously intimates that it may have
been dissimilarity in language between peoples that had to be
overcome, or that it was found to be convenient to leave goods
where others could come upon them in following a regular route
at irregular and unpredictable intervals, or that it was a device
for dealing with strangers and thus avoiding possible unpleasant
first-hand contacts. Yet all of these reasons, or none of them, may
have been operative in particular instances; but the degree to
which each or all were causal in what regions, under what cir-
cumstances, and by what methods, we can never know. What is
needed to give us an understanding of the nature, if not the
origin, of the phenomenon is a full description of some instance
of the silent trade, including a detailed statement of what is
traded, and when, and under what conditions, and how often,
together with an analysis of the manner in which this particular
form of trade fits into the entire pattern of tribal exchange.

18 Leenhardt, 92-3. 19 Numelin, 22-5.

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

THE LITERATURE on trade in nonliterate societies makes clear that
barter is by far the most prevalent mode of exchange, and that
it is carried on by means of giving one commodity for another,
either according to established ratios or by actual bargaining.
It is important that both these methods be recognized as co-
existent, since bargaining by no means always accompanies bar-
ter. While haggling may, and most often does, mark the direct
exchange of commodities, there is at least one case on record
where this is altogether absent. It is not improbable that future
detailed descriptions of actual trading operations, of which at
present there is almost none drawn in economic terms, will indi-
cate that this acceptance of established values is far more wide-
spread in barter systems of exchange of goods than the common
position regarding the question would imply."

Whatever the process of achieving exchange, there can be no
doubt of the importance of barter itself as an economic mech-
anism in non-pecuniary societies. This has not gone unrecog-
nized, for even though detailed descriptions of the way in which
barter is actually carried on are rare, and exact analyses of the
exchanges effectuated even rarer, the information of a general
nature concerning barter that has been collected is impressive.
Thus the accounts of the trading operations of native peoples,
recorded since the earliest times of European contact, have
yielded much data, as has already been manifest. Certainly al-
most every modern scientific description of a nonliterate society
makes some mention of the prevailing forms of trading, however
cursory this mention may be. We can accordingly arrive at some
idea of how great a variety of goods change hands through non-
pecuniary methods of transferring commodities and over how
wide a geographical area.

Most of these accounts deal primarily with intertribal trade.
They serve to document the hypothesis already advanced con-
cerning the difference between this type of exchange and the
manner in which goods circulate within a group, where numbers
are relatively small and the economic organization is relatively

20 Cf. Tueting, 35, for a typical statement.

TRADE AND BARTER 189

simple. It is always possible, to be sure, that intratribal barter
will in the future be found to occur more frequently than has
been reported, for negative evidence is at best inconclusive. But
enough attention has been paid to gift and ceremonial exchange
in many parts of the world to make unlikely the omission of ref-
erence to other mechanisms making for intratribal barter. In fol-
lowing the available data, we shall in any event find ourselves
concerned almost exclusively with commercial contacts between
different communities rather than with intratribal exchange.

Numerous accounts of aboriginal trade in the southeastern
United States are found in descriptions of the experiences of cer-
tain early voyagers in the area. Cabeza de Vaca has set down his
adventures among the Indians of the coastal region bordering
the Gulf of Mexico, where, practically a prisoner, he engaged in
barter to earn his livelihood.

The Indians would beg me to go from one quarter to another
for things of which they have need; for in consequence of
incessant hostilities, they cannot traverse the country, nor
make many exchanges. With my merchandise and trade I
went into the interior as far as I pleased, and travelled along
the coast forty or fifty leagues. The principal wares were
canes and other pieces of sea-snail, conches used for cutting,
and fruit like a bean of the highest value to them, which they
use as a medicine and employ in their dances and festivities.
Among other matters were sea-beads. Such were what I car-
ried into the interior; and in barter I got and brought back
skins, ochre with which they rub and color the face, hard
canes of which to make arrows, sinews, cement and flint for
the heads, and tassels of the hair of deer that by dyeing they
make red. ... I bartered with these Indians in combs I
made for them and in bows, arrows, and nets. 21

Lafitan, a Jesuit, writing of the transactions he witnessed in the
Southeast about 1710, says:

The savage nations always trade with one another. Their
commerce is, like that of the ancients, a simple exchange of
wares against wares. Each has something particular which
21 Cited in Myer, 738-9.

1QO ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

the others have not, and the traffic makes these things circu-
late among them. Their wares are grain, porcelain [wam-
pum], furs, robes, tobacco, mats, canoes, work made of
moose or buffalo hide and of porcupine quills, cotton-beds,
domestic utensils in a word, all sorts of necessities of life
required by them. 22

Further indications of how widespread trade was in the area,
and the variety of goods traded, are found in other works. Florida
Indians, in their cypress canoes, went hunting and trading from
the Suwanee River to the southern tip of the peninsula and on to
Havana, carrying among other commodities deerskins, dry fish,
beeswax, honey, and bear's oil. The Natchez and other Missis-
sippi tribes obtained the salt they needed from the Caddoan peo-
ples west of the Mississippi River, and bands of these folk were
often met by the early explorers as they came east to trade. 23

In the Southwest, the Tewa carried on an extensive traffic in
corn, corn meal, and wheat bread with the Comanche, exchang-
ing these products for prepared buffalo hides. 24 Taos women ob-
tain the woven belts they wear by trading for them with the
people of Isleta pueblo; their food baskets are obtained from
Hopi, and yucca baskets for washing wheat from Kcres. In re-
turn, the Taos folk give wheat or buckskin. They trade horses for
buckskin with the Navaho, while "in 1896 the best pottery came
from Tewa in exchange for wheat." 25 Jemez traders barter grapes
and chile, melons, wheat, and corn for turquoise, silver belts or
necklaces, dress cloths and blankets, buckskin, meat, feathers,
and pottery. The intertribal exchanges as they actually work out
are complex.

The women's dresses of native cloth are got from the Hopi
and from Santo Domingo, pottery from Santo Domingo and
Sia, turquoise from Santo Domingo, blankets and mutton
from the Navaho. One trader I heard of would barter tur-
quoise got at Santo Domingo for Navaho blankets, which he
in turn disposed of at Santo Domingo for more turquoise.
A man asked me to get him some red face paint from the

22 Ibid., 737. 24 Bobbins, Harrington, and Freire-

23 Swanton (1928), 452-3; Mareco, 97.

( 1911 ), 78. * P ' Parsons ( 1936a ), 24-5.

TRADE AND BARTER 1QI

Hopi; he said they had the best. What he had in his buck-
skin pouch he had got from the Navaho. 26

California tribes also carried on a lively exchange of goods.
The valley Maidu traded with the Wintun for beads, which rep-
resented money to them. From the lower altitudes these beads
moved into the mountains, together with salt, salmon, and nuts
of the digger-pine; in return, bows and arrows, deerskins, sugar-
pine nuts, and "perhaps some other local food products" were
obtained. From the north the Maidu received the obsidian they
needed for arrow-points, and a green pigment used by them to
decorate bows. Wild tobacco was traded in all directions. The
Shasta received dentalia, salt or seaweed, baskets of various sorts,
tan-oak acorns, and canoes from the Karok, for which they gave
obsidian, deerskins, and sugar-pine nuts. For these same goods
the Shasta obtained acorns from the Wintun to the south, while
they sent their surplus acorn-flour to the tribes of southern Ore-
gon, receiving for this the dentalia they so prized. 27

Barter among the Guiana Indians of South America in earlier
times was based on exchange without bargaining; or, as it has
been expressed, these Indians were ignorant "with regard to the
custom of presents." It is probable that in the days before contact
was established with runaway Negro slaves who settled in the
region and brought with them more commercially sophisticated
African methods, a mode of exchange existed whereby something
given, though returnable, was only casually evaluated. Today,
however, instead of the "present for present" system, not only
barter but bargaining seems at times to occur. Despite lack of
clarity as to its exact nature the instance is important because it
seems to afford an example of exchange in which emphasis de-
termines classification, since at the present time, actual barter
rather than exchange of goods accompanied by the passage of
gifts is apparently the rule. This means that the economic rather
than the non-economic aspects of their trading are uppermost in
the minds of the natives who engage in these transactions. 2 " Far-
ther to the south, among the Amazon tribes, where no trade
routes or markets have been reported, trade is an individual con-
cern that operates across lines dividing hostile tribes. Because of

-' Parsons (1925), 16. 2S Roth (1924), 633; (1929),

27 Krocber (1925), 399, 287. 101-02.

1Q2 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

self-sufficiency in production, "extratribal goods are distinctly
luxuries," but such commodities as pottery are passed on from
hand to hand so that they eventually travel considerable dis-
tances. 29

In the Chaco, it is once more difficult to disentangle trading
from gift-giving, since the transactions are reported as having
"essentially the character of an exchange of presents." This ap-
praisal does not seem to follow entirely from the data as pre-
sented, however. The fact that the Indians only trade with
friends whom they habitually visit and who, therefore, can be
regarded as exclusive trading partners does not seem to affect
the essentially commercial nature of the transactions. The
Choroti barter their own dried fish with friendly foreign tribes
for maize, ceremonially valuable red paint, and certain much-
prized necklaces. Barter between the Toba and neighboring tribes
is of a similar nature, except that it seems to be carried on during
visits between trading partners, the visitor bringing maize and
the Chaco Indian returning his surplus fish. "The Indian, in
conformity with his natural tact, is of course anxious not to
favour one friend more than another, and thus a regular system
of bartering with definite measures has gradually developed."
Exchanges along these approved lines, with sanctioned return
for gifts tendered, go on until the supplies of the "visitors" have
been disposed of, whereupon they leave with the dried fish they
came to obtain. Reciprocally, the Chaco Indian also pays "visits"
to his trading partner, taking fish and returning with cereals
and sugar-cane.'

The complexities of the trading operations of the peoples of
Melanesia and New Guinea are such that only their salient points
can be indicated here. In doing this, we may again profitably
follow the summary of these rich materials prepared by Tueting.
Pure barter exists either by itself or associated with the ritual
passage of goods, and trade may be on the basis of the exchange
of commodity for commodity, or some common medium of ex-
change may be employed for the purpose. Even where money
is found, barter may continue, or the use of money may be
restricted to ceremonial uses. Stated markets are found in some
districts, while elsewhere casual contacts suffice to assure the
proper circulation of goods. In various parts of the area, "the

Whiffen, 61-2. 30 Karstcn, 99-101.

TRADE AND BARTER 1 93

transfer of goods is usually direct and payment immediate,
although goods and services may be ordered by contract and
payment deferred." The kinds of goods exchanged here differ
in different localities, but this variation is based on certain simi-
larities that hold throughout. The principal articles of trade are
those having economic utility,

. . . fish, vegetable produce, sago, or goods manufactured
from stone, wood, clay or feathers. Commodities of great
value such as pigs, shell ornaments, and canoes are usually
exchanged ceremonially. Food and pots are almost always
bartered. They are rarely exchanged ceremonially except as
gifts accompanying the main transaction. 31

Since in the next chapter one of the few available first-hand
descriptions of barter from this area will be cited, only two or
three instances of the principles enunciated above will be briefly
mentioned here. These are cited chiefly because, appearing after
Tueting's summary of Melanesian trade was published, they
serve to supplement her data. In Malekula, though most house-
holds are self-supporting, and exchange, as "we might expect to
find," is rare on the purely economic level, markets do exist to
which the inland and fishing folk of the coastal areas repair dur-
ing the period between planting and harvesting yams. "It is a rec-
ognized thing that the coastal people must take everything which
the bushmen bring; nevertheless, a considerable amount of
bartering goes on." Nothing is paid for at the time of sale, but
some ten days later the bush people come to the shore once
more, where the coastal folk hand over the fish, shell-fish, and
other marine produce in whatever quantities were agreed upon
at the previous meeting. These markets end with the yam har-
vest, "presumably because . . . the coastal people are no longer
dependent upon their bush neighbors for garden foodstuffs." 32

In the area of the Huon Gulf of northeastern New Guinea,
this pattern of trade based on tribal specialization has been
described as seen from the point of view of the Busama. Ex-
changes are carried on with other peoples living along the coast
as reciprocal gift-giving; it is only with the people of the interior
that "a proper return" for commodities is exacted. This is be-
cause "commercialism is considered to be incompatible with

81 Tueting, 35-8. 82 Deacon, 202-03.

194 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

blood ties," and coastal people have few relatives in the bush.
Yet in trading by sea along the coast, exchanges are made only
with kinsmen.

Each type of object has its traditional equivalent a pot of
certain size being worth so many taro or mats . . . and
most of the visitors go home with items at least as valuable
as those which they brought. Indeed, the closer the kinship
bond the greater is the host's generosity, and some of them
may be a good deal richer. A careful count is kept, however,
and the score evened up later.

But the trading is never accompanied by bargaining:

The goods are handed over as though they were free gifts
offered out of friendship. Discussion of values is avoided,
and each person does his best to convey the impression
that no thought of a counter gift has ever crossed his mind.

So important is the factor of etiquette and the need to observe
canons of generosity and so pressing the "fear of a lost reputa-
tion" as a result of this most prized quality, that return in excess
of the value of a gift is frequently made. "One is ashamed to
treat persons one knows like tradesmen," say the natives. 3 *' 1

Each man, in the island of Manam, has two or three or more
trading partners on the New Guinea mainland, through whom
all exchanges of consumption goods or valuables are made. The
relationship transcends economic considerations, for the visits
to the mainland are made with a lively sense of pleasure, and
men who have nothing to dispose of often accompany a trading
expedition merely to see their partners. Nonetheless, the primary
objectives of these expeditions are economic, as is plain if the
broad range of the goods bartered is indicated. Sago, cooking-
pots, freshwater bivalves, colored petticoats, colored cane used
in making armbands and waistbands, carved wooden bowls,
"and many other things of lesser importance" are traded for the
canarium nuts, areca nuts, tobacco, and bananas the Manam
men bring with them. Pigs, curved boars' tusks, and headdresses
and breastplates of dogs' teeth are exchanged for large slit
wooden gongs, while the long bamboos used in making the
Manam sacred flutes are also obtained in this manner. 34

33 Hogbin (1947), 244-8. ;i4 Wedge wood, 395-6.

TRADE AND BARTER 1Q5

In the trading system of Australia, whose aspects of gift-
exchange have been indicated and the extensiveness of which
will shortly be discussed, barter played a very large part. There
were definite markets (called by Roth "swapping-places" )
where exchanges of raw materials and finished products of
various sorts were effected. This system "is barter in the true
sense of the term; no medium of exchange or measure of value
was or is employed anywhere in the continent. . . " It is sum-
marized as follows:

It was carried on between contiguous and distant hordes
and tribes to secure desired raw materials, finished articles,
coroborees and songs, produced or not by one of these
groups, occurring or not in their respective territories, and
brought by one or more members of one group to another;
such barter was carried on at recognized "market" places,
feasts, ceremonies, and other gatherings, besides occasioning
special journeys. Barter is thus a means whereby surplus
products are disposed of, the economy of the group is bal-
anced and its culture enriched. Barter places a high value
on personal skill."' 5

Africa, where population units are large and the economic
systems more complex than in most parts of the nonliterate
world, presents many instances of barter, not only between
tribes, but as is more rare in non-industrial communities, within
a given tribe. Of the numerous cases that could be cited where
both processes were carried on in the days before European
control, that of the Tswana of South Africa may be summarized.
The varied methods these folk employed to assure the circulation
of goods reflected their specialization in production. Thus a
person in need of such wares as metal goods, pots, baskets, or
wooden utensils, and unable to make them himself, went to an
expert and "either bought the object he wanted, if it was already
available, or, as was frequently necessary, ordered it to be made."
In addition, goods of this character were acquired by exchanges
made between persons who chanced to have more of a given
commodity than required. In times of great need, especially
when there was a shortage of food, grain was obtained by the
same means, as were cattle. "There was no standardized medium

35 McCarthy, 176-9.

196 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

of exchange." All kinds of commodities grain, meat, cattle,
smaller domesticated animals, fowl, hoes, spears were bartered,
and certain rough scales of values prevailed. A pot, or milk-pail,
or a similar utensil was worth its contents in grain; a sheep or
a bag of cord bought two goats; a heifer was worth ten goats
or five bags of corn. Intertribal exchanges of the same type also
occurred. Among at least one of the Tswana tribes, the Kgatla,
these were under control of the chief, to whom the outsider
coming to either buy or sell had to report and give a gift "to
open the way"; that is, he had to proffer an ox or a heifer if he
had brought cattle with which to buy corn, or several rolls of
tobacco if he had this commodity for sale.

The question of credit, without which many of the transactions
could not have been carried on, does not concern us at this
point, though to fill in our sketch it may be indicated that pay-
ments were often deferred, and that consequently the problems
arising out of the relations between debtors and creditors were
well known. 36 In this African society, then, with its economy
more complex than that of most nonliterate groups, an outstand-
ing characteristic of trade lay in its greater resemblance to
business as we know it. Exchange between members of the tribe,
as well as between them and those outside the tribe, was a mat-
ter of economic give-and-take, and a clear recognition existed
of the difference between ceremonial exchange and commercial
transactions.

WHATEVER the origin of trading, and whatever the earliest
manifestations of exchange may have been, it is apparent both
from archaeological evidence and from the ubiquity of present-
day trading practices the world over that the passage of goods
from one people to another is a phenomenon of great antiquity.
Perhaps the most striking prehistoric find pointing how ancient
are trading practices consists of a shell from upper Paleolithic
deposits of southern France, which could have only come from

3C Schapera (1938), 241-4; for was intratribal trade as well as ex-
other data from Northern Rhodesia changes between them and other
where, as concerns the Lozi, there groups, see Clucknian (1941), 67-74.

TRADE AND BARTER 1Q7

the eastern Mediterranean. 37 Equally striking is the distribution
of the so-called "beeswax" flints from Grand Pressigny. With
central France as the only possible source of supply, implements
made from this distinctive rock are found in all parts of that
country, and as far east as Switzerland. 38 Instances of objects
found far from their points of origin are numerous as we move
into the Bronze and Iron Ages, while these become common-
place as the historic period opens. 39

Wide areas are ranged by present-day nonliterate man for
purposes of trade, as is shown both by special studies devoted
to the description of trade routes in various parts of the earth,
and by discussions of the trading expeditions of specific peoples
found in the ethnographic literature. One significant function
of trade recognized more among literate peoples, as in the
saying "Trade follows the flag/' than among nonliterate groups
derives from the manner in which it makes for a kind of com-
mercial compact, from which develop the diplomatic practices
that promote those peaceful contacts so essential to economic
intercourse. Trade relations, that is, as Numelin points out, in a
very real sense may and often do encourage good international
(intertribal) relations. 40 Some of the cases, notably in Africa,
where the trader is essentially a professional, involve special
factors and will be discussed later when the incidence and role
of the middleman in nonliterate societies is considered. In Mel-
anesia the trade routes and the expeditions that followed them
have attracted sufficient attention so as to make it unnecessary
here to go over the numerous works in which these have been
made readily available. We may, therefore, restrict ourselves to
the Americas, where a rich body of material exists that has had
little attention from this point of view, and Australia, which
presents a case of special interest as indicating the extensiveness
of trading operations among peoples having an extremely simple
economic organization.

Denig tells of a type of shell called "Iroquois" that was traded
from tribe to tribe across the mountains from the Pacific coast
until it reached the far-away Plains. These shells, about two
inches long and "about the size of a raven's feather at the larger

87 Russell, 3-4. MacCurdy, II, 98, 211-12.

88 Hue. * Numelin (1950), 252-5; see

89 Burkitt, passim; Childc, passim; also Chs. IX and X.

108 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

end," were hollow and curved, so they could be strung as orna-
ments. Some idea of the extensiveness of this trade can be
gathered from the observation that 300 or 400 such shells were
frequently to be seen on some young Crow or Blackfoot woman's
dress. 41 A study of the archaeological and ethnological evidence
of Indian trails in eastern United States also shows how wide-
spread was the network of commercial communication between
the peoples of the region. Thus, for example, in the mounds of
Ohio, Tennessee, and elsewhere,

. . . objects from the Atlantic, the Gulf of Mexico, and the
Pacific, and from nearly every section of the interior of the
United States have been found; obsidian from the Rocky
Mountain region; pipestone from the great red pipestone
quarries of Minnesota and Wisconsin, steatite and mica from
the Appalachians, copper from the region of the Great Lakes
and elsewhere, shells from the Gulf of Mexico and the
Atlantic, dentalium and abalone shells from the Pacific
Coast, and now and then artifacts which at least hint at
some remote contact with Mexican Indian culture. 42

The ramifications of Hopi trade show how closely the tribes
of the entire Southwest were knit together, and how their ex-
changes of goods were tied in with the commercial operations
of surrounding areas. Today they exchange corn, dried peaches,
wafer bread, hatchets, and agricultural implements with the
Navaho for mutton, firewood, wooden roof-beams, silver orna-
ments of various sorts, antelope-skins, sheep, and horses. This is
relatively recent, since in earlier days their northern trade was
principally with the Paiute, who would pay for the wafer bread
and corn mush they desired with wood and piikm gum, horses
and meat, bows and arrows, and sometimes, when food was
especially scarce, with children to be retradcd to the Mexicans
for blankets and horses.

Trade relations between the Hopi and the Pueblos to the east
continues, though irregularly, with Zuni, Acorna, Santo Domingo,
Jemez, and Cochiti. When at its height, for their woven goods
the Hopi received shell necklaces, indigo, blue carbonate, red
woolen blankets, buffalo-skins, hoes, and turquoise. Some of

41 Denig, 590-1. 42 Mycr, 736-7.

TRADE AND BARTER 199

these products were for their own use, while some were retraded
to their commercial affiliates to the west. The Hopi also had
indirect contact with the tribes of the southern Plains and of
the mountains of northern New Mexico, exchanging dried meat
and buffalo hide for corn and woven goods. Through the Hava-
supai to the west, Hopi goods found their way to the Walapai,
Mohave, Halchidoma, Yuma, Kaveltcadom, Maricopa, and Pima.
The trade included both goods manufactured or grown by each
party, and commodities received from tribes farther removed.

The Hopi also had trading relations with the White Mountain
Apache, and in recent times with the Mormons, the former bring-
ing moccasins, arrows, mescal, and the strong green bows
especially favored by the Hopi to be bartered for colored Hopi
yarn, the Mormons giving horses for blankets. The Hopi them-
selves rarely went on trading expeditions, but were essentially
middlemen, and as such will engage our attention later, since
at this point we are concerned merely with their position at the
center of the web of southwestern trade routes, which thus so
admirably serve to illustrate the geographical range of trade and
help us visualize how considerable the "volume of trade ex-
change" must have been. 43

A similiar complexity of trading routes is found in other regions
of the Americas. To the south, commercial intercourse between
the Indian towns and villages of the Mexican state of Oaxaca
gives another instance of the vigor of the trading operations
recorded from the nonliterate peoples of the hemisphere. It is
not possible here to detail the intricate exchanges of goods in-
volved, or to give the local specializations that underlie these
activities, but only to note their presence and importance. In
Canada, the Lillooet of the west, like the Montagnais-Naskapi
to the east, traveled well-worn routes, often of considerable
length, along which commodities passed from group to group
by means of local contacts, or were carried by those who visited
one group after another for purposes of barter. Not even in the
far north were these patterns of trade unknown. They existed
among the Eskimo and northern Indians as they did among the
Siberian aborigines. Similarly in South America, networks of
trade covered the northern and central portions of the continent,

43 Boaglchole (1937), 82-6.

2OO

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

while the densely populated highlands of pre-Spanish times
knew a complex series of commercial relationships.* 4

Notwithstanding the slight material equipment and simple
economic organization of Australia's aboriginal inhabitants, or-
ganized barter was carried on over great areas. Though the data
are scattered through many works, they make an impressive
picture when brought together as they have been by McCarthy. 45
Not only were various commodities widely exchanged within

/. "Trade" in Aboriginal Australia and "Trade" Relation-
ships with Torres Strait, New Guinea (after McCarthy, 1939-
40, p. 191).

"Parsons (1936b), 568-70; Teit
(1900-8), 231-2; Speck (1931),
578-9; Boas (1888), 469-70; Birket-
Smith and de Laguna, 150-1; Bo-

goras, 53, 64-5; Roth (1924), 634-
6; (1929), 103.

45 McCarthy, passim.

TRADE AND BARTER 2O1

the several parts of Australia, but other goods, held to have
magical qualities or prized as insignia of status, were traded
throughout the continent. More than this, the aboriginal Aus-
tralians had trade connections outside the continent; one from
Cape York to the Torres Strait islands, another from the Torres
Strait islands to western Papua, these connecting with New
Guinea trade routes that in turn converged on the Torres Strait.
Together with the intra-Australian "trunk trade routes," these
are shown in the accompanying map. The explanation given it
is worthy of note: "It is important to realize that these routes
function sectionally, and that traits and ideas diffuse along their
entire extent." 4 *'

One or two examples of the available documentation from
Australia may be given here to indicate the quality of the in-
formation it yields. One student reports of the southeastern
tribes :

When at Cooper's Creek I observed that the blacks used
shields made of some wood not known to me in that part of
Australia. Subsequently ... I learned . . . the Yantru-
wunta obtained these shields from their neighbors higher
up Cooper's Creek, who got them from tribes farther to the
north-east. The Yantruwunta on their part exchanged weap-
ons made by them, and stone slabs for grinding seeds which
they brought from the south. I also saw among these tribes,
though rarely, a portion of a large univalve shell, worn
suspended by a string from the neck, which I was told came
from the north. Inquiries made later from the Deiri show
that they bartered with the Mardala, or hill tribes, to the
south of them, for skins. 47

At the turn of the century, Roth described the "walkabout" of
northwest central Queensland as

part and parcel of the great trading or bartering system
which is more or less continuously going on throughout the
various districts. Certain trade-routes laid down from time
immemorial along their own or messmates' country are fol-
lowed by members of a tribe or tribes, along which each
knows he is free to travel unmolested.

4 Ibicl, 191. 47 Howitt, 714.

202 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Along these routes, which are given in detail, pituri was traded
for spears and koolamous; government blankets, pituri, human-
hair belts, and other articles were exchanged for shields, stone
knives, opossum and human-hair twine. 48

More modern reports indicate the viability of these patterns
of trade. In Arnhemland, another northerly region, "the Murngin
and their neighbors are no exceptions" to the rule that "the
Australian aborigine is a most industrious trader." Inland folk
trade stone spear-heads to sea-coast tribes for red ocher and
pipe clay, or for wooden spears. Gift-giving relationships enhance
the exchange; a man gains prestige by having as many such
affiliations as possible, so that he can obtain a present "sent from
a distant people." On the Daly River, merbok, "an exceedingly
well-organized system of intertribal exchange" has been de-
scribed in some detail. For all the tribes between the Adelaide
River and the Victoria River it constitutes a "basic economic net-
work," which in earlier times and perhaps even still stretches far
beyond these limits. It comprises "a series of continuous delayed
exchanges of articles of intrinsic utilitarian value between indi-
viduals within the one tribe and in different tribes." These goods
include red ocher, kaolin, spears, hair belts, dillybags, boomer-
angs, pearl shell, necklaces, armbands, girdles, wax, "and numer-
ous other articles"; and the distances some of them travel are
impressive. Thus, bamboos are sent hundreds of miles from the
Daly to the Victoria River, where they are needed as shafts for
shovel-spears; and "this is multiplied a hundredfold in rnerbok
economy."

A similar system of "economic transactions" is found over the
whole Kimberly Division, among the Lunga, and other tribes,
involving a chain of partners, both men and women, called a
"road," along which goods pass from hand to hand. Whether or
not this organization is typical of all northern Australia cannot
be said, inasmuch as in the region inhabited by the Yir-Yoront,
"nothing corresponding to the merbok" was found. Yet trade was
by no means absent, and even "the rather limited importation
of goods not found in Yir-Yoront territory was governed by ex-
change between members of neighboring tribes following the

48 Roth (1897), 132-6.

TRADE AND BARTER 303

patterns of distant kinship, the goods travelling along recognized
routes." 49

IN THIS chapter, the importance of the bartered exchange of
goods in nonliterate economic life has been sketched and some-
thing of the great variety of commodities that figures in these ex-
changes has been indicated. We must next analyze how values
are established in barter, whether barter and bargaining are as
closely related as is commonly conceived, and what occurs when
barter gives way to a system of exchange based on the use of
money. Moreover, the importance of stated markets, both within
tribal precincts and when established to further intertribal trade,
must also receive our attention, and, similarly, other aspects of
primitive commerce such as credit and the stabilization of
values. We may now proceed to consider these on the basis of the
facts already presented, and of such other materials as are
available.

49 Warner, 95, Stunner, 20-1; Kaberry, 166-74; Sharp, 39.

CHAPTER X

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE,
CREDIT AMD THE DETER-
MINATION OF VALUE

THE METHODS of trading in nonliterate societies, the ends for
which trading is done, and how the trader accomplishes his ends
are fascinating problems. Schechter, who canvassed the litera-
ture for the available materials, concludes that as against gift
exchange, individual dealings or business, more properly
speaking are socially regulated by "various devices for the
making and recording of fair bargains, for the rescission of im-
provident ones, and, as finally crystallized in market law, for the
prevention of adulteration, short weights and measures, and
other forms of overreaching and unfair trade generally." Like
his literate fellow, however, nonliterate man, when attempting
to enforce such rules of business procedure, becomes "frequently
restless and resentful at the application of these principles to
his particular case, with the consequent recurring necessity for
coercing him into compliance." This phenomenon "faithfully
foreshadows the conduct and necessary restraints of man in his
more sophisticated, or, as we would say, in his 'civilized' eco-
nomic life." l

When we consider motivations to trade, it is seen that those
drives familiar to Euroamerican business are by no means lack-
ing in nonliterate societies. A student of one Melanesian folk
summarizes the reaction of the people he studied as follows:

1 Schechter, 596-7.

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE 205

The Malekulan is typically bourgeois and commercially
minded. He is preoccupied generally with the making of
deals, with bargaining and exercising his sharp wits, to
getting the better of his economic rivals. Wealth, or rather
the ability to display and expend wealth, is the hall-mark
of rank, and a man's chief interest is to acquire wealth and
yet more wealth. 2

Because of their relative self-sufficiency, business, as such, is
far less important among nonliterate groups than in the pecuni-
ary societies of Europe arid America. In these nonliterate socie-
ties, the quest for profits is by no means the fundamental drive
it is conceived to be in writings on economic theory. And this
fact makes for certain attitudes toward the commercial situation
that are not readily comprehensible to those familiar only with
our own system. Among the same Bush Negroes of Dutch
Guiana who employ all their wiles to prevent the Indians and
Europeans between whom they act as middlemen from having
first-hand contact, are women who will part with wood-carvings
their men have made for them only after long concerted pres-
sure by relatives who urge acceptance of what in indigenous
terms are fabulous offers. Or, one may encounter chiefs who,
as expert carvers themselves, will not part with certain specimens
of their work at any price. 3

In pre-Spanish Mexico, the belief that it was unlucky to sell
while on the way to market was so strong that it lingers on today
in Central America. 4 Analogously, in Haiti, the prestige that
accrues to the woman trader who can display much produce as
she takes her place in the market causes her to refuse many prof-
itable and burden-easing sales en route. Among certain Plains
Indians, when a horse was stolen within a day or two after its
purchase, or was lamed in the first race it ran for the new owner,
a part of the purchase price was refunded. 5 Or we read of a
certain Taos man who had gone to a fiesta in Jemez "in the hope
of acquiring a blanket owing him for a deal of the year before"
when he had sold a horse for two blankets, only one of which
had been paid him. On going to the residence of his debtor, he
"found the house full of blankets," but did nothing when in the

2 Deacon, 17. 272 ff.

3 Roth (1924), 633-4; (1929), * Thompson, 130.
102; M. J. and F. S. Herskovits, 5 Denig, 475.

206 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

ensuing conversation the debt was not mentioned. "The Jemez
man said he was coming to Taos again, and Pablo expected that
this time he would bring the blanket with him."

Even these few instances demonstrate how the motives that
actuate trade, and the manner in which returns from it are
obtained, vary widely in nonliterate societies. Any attempt to
generalize concerning the matter would thus seem to be of little
profit unless our generalizations are based on the fact of this
great diversity of drives in the exchange of goods and of the
manner in which the attainment of objectives is furthered or
impeded by the dictates of traditional patterns of behavior.

IT is well, at the outset, to consider the way business transac-
tions are carried on among non-industrial peoples, and some of
the institutions associated with such trade. We may profitably
study one of the few first-hand accounts in which barter is de-
scribed in terms of its role in promoting the circulation of goods,
rather than in that of the sociological implications of the process.
For this we turn once more to the Melanesian community of
Buka, one of the Solomon Islands off the northern coast of
Bougainville. Here a "well organized and to some extent stand-
ardized system of barter takes place regularly between two
villages." As is characteristic of this area, most important is the
local trade, where taro is exchanged by the inland people for
fish brought by the coastal folk, though when either party has a
surplus, more distant trading operations are undertaken. The
women, who conduct the exchanges, form a trading group, but
they do not pool their goods. As a result, each woman benefits
only from what she brings, so that if a trader is short of fish she
must add sticks of tobacco or other goods to bring the value of
her wares up to the requisite amount needed for her purchases.

Trading is carried on at stated localities and at prevailing
rates. At one center off the west coast of Buka, fish are given for
taro from the hill villages of the interior at the rate of 1 large
fish for 12 taros, and 1 medium-sized fish for 6 taros. At another
market, fish from the islands off the northwest coast of Bougain-

Parsons (1936a), 25.

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE 207

ville are exchanged for taro brought to the coast by inhabitants
of the northern foothills, and similar trading is also done with
the members of a different tribe who themselves live along the
northern coast. The mountain people receive 10 fish for 10 taros,
but the coastal folk must pay 6 taros for 2 fish. These prices are
"said to have been fixed by ... the 'culture heroine' from whom
they trace their origin." Certainly any explanation in terms of
economic advantage is difficult, since it would not be expected,
in terms of economic theory or of the psychology of value, that
taros would be sold at a cheaper rate (as expressed in fish) by
a coastal tribe than by an interior people. An alternative explana-
tion is understandably offered the fear in which the mountain
folk of central Bougainville are still held by those living on the
coast.

These same coastal dwellers in earlier times also traded taro
to still another tribe for smoked fish, when this latter people
needed extra taro for special occasions, such as feasts. The rate
in these cases was 1 rabas (a unit of 6 taros) for 1 big fish or 2
small ones. A special variant of this most common kind of ex-
change occurs when women from Buka fishing villages who need
taro go into the hill districts to dig up the roots themselves. "In
this case also fish are given in exchange," but the rate at which
these sales are effected is not indicated. This is unfortunate, since
here there is almost unique opportunity to measure the value
given the labor necessary to dig taro out of the ground, through
comparing the number of fish given for taro still in the ground
with the number given for taro on which the labor of digging,
or digging and transporting, has been expended.

Many other commodities besides fish and taro are bartered,
all at well-established rates. The Patats women, who are expert
in making the hoods of leaves worn by women in the presence
of certain male relatives, exchange them for pots with the Mala-
sang people, giving 1 large hood for 1 large pot, and 1 small
hood for 1 small pot. Coral found on the beach is used to make
lime, and the hill folk, who have no access to this raw material,
barter taro and pots, which they also obtain from the Malasang,
for this lime, though prices are in this case not specified. Pots
are likewise bartered to obtain taro needed for planting, a very
large pot going for 10 rabas (60 taros), a medium-sized pot for
5 rabas, and a small one for 3 rabas.

208 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

The trade in carrying-baskets is of unusual interest. The peo-
ple of Kurtatchi possess great numbers of areca-nut palm trees,
from the fronds of which they make trays or baskets, exchanging
them with the people of Solo for taro. The baskets are packed
one inside another, 6 or 7 constituting a bundle; while a load of
taro is as much as a woman can carry inside one of these baskets,
which is to say, as much as her strength will allow her to trans-
port, a quantity susceptible of considerable variation. Despite
this variation in quantity, the trading is load for load, and in the
cases reported "no haggling seemed to occur," despite the fact
that to trade baskets for the load of a strong woman means more
taro for the seller than if she did business with a weaker woman.
This mode of exchange at the rate of load for load is apparently
well established; another instance is when breadfruit are sold
for sweet potatoes. A load of potatoes as many as a given
woman can transport in her carrying-basket is the unit on the
one side, while breadfruit loads, consisting of respectively 17,
21, and 35 units, were counted. Yet again, "there was no haggling
as to whether two given loads were of equal value/'

Other Bougainville trading involves double and triple ex-
changes of goods, often transported from some distance. The
data for this type of trading add but little, however, to those
considered for other regions. More significant for our present
problem is the description of the manner in which such transac-
tions are actually consummated:

I accompanied my friends from Petats on several trips to the
mainland of Buka. . . , When the two parties met, packs
were undone and a rapid inspection of fish and counting out
of taro took place. The people of each party kept together,
they went around holding out the goods they had to offer,
and the buyers saw to it that the fish were of the appropriate
size for the number of taro offered in exchange. I saw one
women try hard to obtain two small fish for four taro, but
eventually she had to be content with one. Sometimes they
would get very excited and snatch the fish and taro from
each other, or two women would grab the same article, al-
most tearing it in pieces. Two of the Buka women brought
loads of dried opposum, and these also were exchanged
for fish. The whole affair was got over as quickly as possible;

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE 209

there was very little gossip, and it was clearly regarded as
a business, not a social occasion. Both sides began their
homeward journey as soon as the exchange was finished,
not stopping to chat or to chew betel. 7

Prices in terms of goods in some of the areas where modes of
barter were described in the preceding chapter may also be
cited. In California, the Yurok bartered tobacco at the rate of a
woman's cap "full or not full" for a dentalium shell, the shortest
type of shell buying the smaller amount, the second shortest the
cap full. 8 The Hidatsa sold their surplus corn to the Standing
Rock Sioux, taking payment in meat and hides. "They came," says
the Hidatsa woman quoted, "not because they were in need of
food, but because they liked to eat our corn," and would give 1
tanned buffalo robe for a string of braided corn; that is, for 54
or 55 ears. 9 When the Lillooet traded with coastal tribes, they
would get 1 elkskin or 1 abalone shell for 3 goatskins or the hair
of 3 or 4 goatskins. Among themselves, they valued a slave at 10
sheets of copper and 2 strings of copper tubes (generally half
a fathom long ) , while a good hunting dog was valued at 1 large
dressed elkskin. 10

Between Navaho and Hopi, the "approximate rates of ex-
change" in 1932-4 for some of the articles traded were as follows:
1 dressed sheep was given for one 48-pound sack of unhusked
corn, or 1 smaller sack of corn with a "moderate" bowl of sweet
corn meal, or 1 small bag of dried peaches and a large plaque
of wafer bread. "Portions of mutton were valued at proportionate
quantities of food." A long piece of timber to be used as a house-
rafter brought 10 small sacks of unhusked corn. A length of fire-
wood was worth 1 sack of corn. The return for jewelry varied,
but one example shows the value of a small ring set at a sack of
corn and a plaque of dried peaches. Certain equivalents are
given for Hopi trade with other tribes. A buffalo-skin obtained
from the Plains tribes through retrading brought a good horse
from the Navaho, Paiute, or Havasupai. A large bed-size Hopi
blanket brought 2 larger buckskins and 1 other small skin from
the Havasupai, who also gave a small buckskin for a small saddle
blanket, a shell necklace for a white wedding blanket with red

7 Blackwood (1935), 439, 442 ff., 9 Wilson, 58.

480. 10 Teit ( 1900-8 ) , 231-3.

8 Krocbcr, 88.

210 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

stripes, and, for a similar blanket, a 5-pound salt-sack full of red
ocher. 11

Yet, as Hill has pointed out, "a discussion of the basic stand-
ards for exchange which prevailed between the Navaho and
other peoples is subject to qualifications and non-measurable
factors and is at best tentative." He goes on to elaborate on this
point:

Like other peoples, Navaho were influenced by supply and
demand, and fluctuations in the estimated worth of various
products have taken place throughout the historic period. In
any given transaction personal whim and ability also figured
in the bargain. There was no "ceiling price" and as among
ourselves many individuals were recognized as shrewd busi-
ness men who endeavored to out-maneuver their opponents.
Such margins of success were usually attributed to cere-
monial knowledge and performance and were of great con-
cern.

At most, "certain normative ranges of values for standard goods
like buckskins, buffalo robes, turquoise and blankets . . . served
as points of reference in assessing miscellaneous goods and
formed the basis for judgment of the success or failure of a
trading venture." 12

It is quite impossible to obtain any sense of comparable meas-
ures of value from data of this sort, and few conclusions can be
drawn from them. Economic equivalents, it would appear, are
often fixed where trade is continuous and the commodities ex-
changed are staples, so that in such cases haggling is rarely in-
dulged in, since values are stable enough so that there is little
reason for dispute. What constitutes equivalence, however, is a
puzzling point that deserves far more attention than it has re-
ceived. The variation in loads of taro exchanged for a fairly con-
stant number of baskets in Buka, for example, where the unit
"a load" depends so largely on the capacity of the individual
carrier, is not easy to analyze. Or, to take another instance, the
varied interpretations of which such expressions of quantity as
"a small basket full" or "a cap full" are susceptible, since again
the size of the container must differ considerably, seem to result
from the absence of any rigid denominator of value. It is unfor-

n Beaglehole (1937), 83-5. 12 Hill (1948), 379.

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE 211

tunate that questions of this type have scarcely been studied in
field research. Since this is the case, however, any conclusions re-
garding such points must be held in abeyance until enough spe-
cific materials are in hand to permit an understanding of the
nature of equivalence in direct exchanges of goods and die prin-
ciples that determine it.

THE INTRODUCTION of any symbol of value, whether in kind or in
some form of money-token, materially simplifies the determi-
nation of equivalence. As has been observed, the small number
of recorded instances of money-barter, where some commodity
takes first rank as an indicator of value, is striking. Almost the
only case of money-barter described in detail is that of the
Ifugao of the Philippines, where rice is at the same time a staple
food and a least common denominator in effecting exchange.
This example is the more interesting because, though rice, at
least until the time of this report, was employed to express
value, its price fluctuated annually, regularly, and invariably ac-
cording to the season. "That rice was a medium of exchange and
not merely used for barter is shown by the Ifugao's hesitancy to
change the price of it. For although lowland rice may be worth
forty centavos a ganta, rice in Kiangan still remains at half that
except during the growing season, when it doubles in value."

Rice units and their price (before 1922) in Philippine dollars
were as follows:

Number

Unit

bundles

Unit

1 botek

5 botck

1 hongal

4 hongal

1 dalan

5 dalan

100

1 bongale

10 dalan

200

1 upu

4 upu

800

1 lotak

2 lotak

1,600

1 gukud

10 upu

2,000 Jnabukeue

\pigil

Value dur-

Value in

ing harvest
and spad-
ing (pesos)
.02}^

season of
growing
rice (pesos)
.05

12J/2

.25

.50

1.00

2.50

5.00

10.00

20.00

40.00

80.00

i oo.oo 1S

18 For a table of rice currency from the neighboring Kalingas, see Barton
(1949), 92.

212 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

The increase in the price of rice from 2 1 / /> cents to 5 cents at Kian-
gan, and from 2 cents to 7 cents at Benauc was not gradual but
took place at one time; an obvious result was that most rice was
bought at the beginning of the harvest and spading season. "Al-
though the value of rice constantly increases, the price increases
abruptly. And in proportion as the value of the rice increases
above the price, commerce in rice decreases. This dull rice mar-
ket ( which is the same as 'tight' money in an American or Euro-
pean nation) practically stops business transactions." Yet this
caused no "crisis," for just at this time of the year all hands, with
the exception of the most wealthy members of the community,
would be hard at work in the ricefields; it was only after the rice
had been planted, which is to say when its price had risen, that
commerce resumed once more.

Most transactions involving rice thus took place in the three
months after the harvest; during the growing season, most rice
that changed hands did so through loans to the poor, a matter
that will be considered later when the institutions of credit and
interest are discussed. An illustration of how rice, as used to ex-
press value, caused commodity prices to change in accordance
with the changes in its own price is to be remarked in the cost of
chickens:

Name Rice Value

In growing season At harvest

Mahin 1 hongol 2 hongol

Maduan hongol 2 hongol 4 hongol

Mahin dalan 1 dalan 2 dalan

Besides rice, pigs and carabaos were reported as "supplemen-
tary media of exchange," especially used in acquiring and com-
puting the value of land. Pigs were designated according to size,
and the following table shows their comparative worth:

Value of Pigs at Kiangan

Name Size Money Value

(pesos)

Makauayyan Size of a bamboo: small suckling 2.50

Kinlum Small; suckling 5.00

Bogha Bearing first litter 10.00

Pikat Medium size 15.00

Nungakop Bearing third litter 20.00

Nangodi Very large 30.00

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE

The carabao was worth 5 or 6 pikat, or from 75 to 90 pesos, while
the value of a rice field might be quoted as "5 pikat and 1 kinlum"
( about 80 pesos ) or "3 carabaos and 4 pikat" ( about 300 pesos ) .
Further standardized articles used in measuring value in ex-
changes were gold neck-oraments, amber-colored glass beads,
brass gongs, rice wine jars, and death blankets. The first two
were commonly used to pay fines, while the death blanket fig-
ured in various types of transactions, its value being computed
at about 8 pesos.

Rice, however, was the basic medium, and the special and sup-
plementary nature of these other expressions of value was quite
clear. In the acquisition of most of these "standard" objects, and
certainly in the case of rice, there was no haggling, though there
might be some discussion as to what should be given for other
goods, as in the instance of a chicken, where the question
whether a given fowl was a kinlum or a pikat might involve
argument. "Like good swappers, they usually split the difference
in case of doubt. Even nowadays there is a good deal of dickering
in the buying and selling of pigs. In the case of chickens there is
not so much."

It must be emphasized that pure barter accompanied this sys-
tem, and that the two methods of effectuating exchanges of
goods were interrelated. For example, problems of paying for the
services of several persons in goods not susceptible of division
were resolved by computing the total in terms of rice or some
other "standard" commodity. Thus a breech-clout was usually
given a man for ten days' work in a rice field. But should ten men
each give one day's work, as sometimes happened, the problem
of "making change," which would otherwise be difficult, was
solved either by exchanging the breech-clout for rice, which was
then divided; or, as was more common, one of the ten paid each
of the others 2 or 4 bundles of rice, according to the season, him-
self taking the breech-clout. Another instance would be that of a
man who wished to buy a jar and possessed the three or four
death blankets at which it was valued. He might not easily find
an owner of a jar who cared to acquire funeral blankets, but with
the blankets he could buy rice, or a pig, and with either of these
it was simple to come on someone with a jar he wished to sell. 1 *

The difficulty of finding other examples of money-barter may

14 Barton (1922), 427-31.

214 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

be due to a number of causes. This type of exchange may perhaps
really be as restricted as it seems to be, or, despite its existence,
its importance may have gone unrecognized, or certain of the
tokens that are described as "money" in the literature may actu-
ally be consumption goods. Yet the institution of money-barter
in so clear-cut a manifestation and, as found among the Ifugao,
is so arresting that it is difficult to see how it could be entirely
missed if it existed; while, as will be seen, there are but few ob-
jects employed as money by nonliterate peoples that have use
value other than to bring prestige to those who display them, as
is the case of our own monetary metals when employed as jew-
elry. The use of iron objects as symbols of value in the African
Congo, as described by Cureau rods in the Middle Congo, hoe,
axe, and shovel-blades in the Upper Ubangi, double gongs in
the Middle Ubangi, iron rings, hoes, and the like in the Middle
Sanga well justify their being considered the instruments of
money-barter. ir> Likewise to the point are the various commodi-
ties other than iron goods used by the Batetela, Olemba, and
Sungu of the Kasai area as denominators of value. 10

Among the peoples of the upper Katanga region of the eastern
Congo, bars of salt played a similar role. On the Lualaba, the
unit, called dibcnda, was a bar weighing about 6% pounds. On
the average, one of these would purchase a hoe, or an axe, a
calabash of palm-oil or a string of beads; a load of honey or
eleusine was worth 4 or 5 mabanda, a gun, 20, while slaves had
the following value: a man, 25 mabanda, a boy, 20, a woman, 40,
a girl, 25 to 30. These bars, which were traded for goods coming
from as far as the eastern coast of Africa, were thus regarded as
money. The values of goods in terms of them "were responsive
to the laws of supply and demand, and varied in accordance with
whether the harvest [of salt] was abundant or not, 17 and with the
scarcity or abundance of certain goods desired or offered." The
data also show how with a symbol of value of this sort, the
maximizing of satisfactions under situations of serious scarcity
can find expression. In this economy, "characterized by a lack of
capital and its absolute subordination to the demands of immedi-
ate need," an old man explained the relatively low values placed
15 Cureau, PI. XIV and 301. during the rainy season, and by

lfJ Torday and Joyce, 51-3. burning vegetation on which this

17 Salt was collected from pans salt-water had been deposited,
made by overflow of saline springs

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE 215

on human beings as follows: "A load of eleusine might save my
life, but a female slave, no matter how strong, could at best only
provide me with the hope of abundance during years to come.
But I have to feed her while I find out whether she is really worth
while, and she may never prove to be so." 18

Salt is also a commodity in West Africa. In the north, sea-salt is
exchanged for butter and slaves, and in the south for livestock to
be used for food; while in the west, as indicating how it retains
its status as a consumption good, sea-salt competes with the
natural mineral from Daboya. 19 An especially striking example of
the use of a commodity as a token of value is had in the case of
cacao kernels in pre-Spanish Mexico, "esteemed not only for the
chocolate made from it, but also as currency." Its latter role is re-
ported as having survived until comparatively recent times in
southern Mexico and Guatemala. Peter Martyr's comment on its
earlier employment makes the point perfectly: "O blessed money
which yeeldeth sweete and profitable drinke for mankinde, and
preserveth the possessors thereof free from the hellish pestilence
of avarice, because it cannot be long kept, or hid underground." 20

It may well be that the presence of money-barter is an indica-
tion of an economic system in transition. The extent to which the
Ifugao employed rice as a symbol of economic equivalence be-
fore contact with Europeans cannot be stated, but there is every
indication that barter as against money-barter is deeply
rooted in the trading traditions of the people. All the African
societies cited have been in constant contact with other money-
using economies, such as are found in the western parts of the
continent and the Congo; or more recently, with Arabs and Euro-
peans. In Siberia, moreover, where among the Chuckchee trade
was "carried on exclusively in barter" and money was unknown,
the unit of value in the Russian trade became a "bundle of to-
bacco 'not tampered with' " and, later, a brick of tea. Numerous
instances show that these commodities involved trade with Euro-
peans, as contrasted to the inland trade with other tribes, where
values were expressed in terms such as the following: "For the
hide of a large ground-seal, from 10 to 15 fawn-skins of larger
size; for a coil of white thong, 5 fawn-skins; for a large bag full of
seal-oil, 3 reindeer for slaughter; for a Winchester rifle with ac-

18 Grevissc, 56 ( see also section 10 Binger, 50 ff.

56-9). 20 Thompson, 67.

2l6 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

cessories, 2 sledge-reindeer, etc." 21 In other words, the intro-
duction of European trade and the subsequent accommodation of
natives to European standards of value brought about the ac-
ceptance of certain foreign commodities as measures of price
but only for European goods.

A final instance may be given, which, though not found among
a nonliterate people, is of interest as adding weight to the hypoth-
esis that trading on the level of money-barter is a transition
phenomenon. In Russia during the period of "war communism"
when, following the Revolution of 1917, the circulation of paper
money was abolished, a system of barter quite the same as en-
countered among non-pecuniary societies sprang up. With the
passage of time "certain goods began to play the role of media in
terms of which other goods were exchanged," in this case a
wagon-load of firewood and a glass of milk being the unit. Still
later, owing to the unsatisfactory nature of these commodities as
measures of value, flour and bread were used as indicators of
price, the situation thus completely fulfilling the conditions of
money-barter." 2 The use of cigarettes as media of exchange in
Germany and Austria during the economic breakdown following
the end of the Second World War is a similar case in point.

MARKETS and middlemen are frequently encountered in nonlit-
erate societies as aids to business enterprises of various sorts.
They do not by any means always go together, although stated
markets of any size are rarely without professional traders. Mar-
kets for intertribal dealing are not found except among populous
groups, while, similarly, merchants whose primary means of
earning a livelihood comes from trade within their own group are
found only in societies where a sufficiently large economic sur-
plus is produced to support them. Except for certain instances in
Africa, pre-Spanish Mexico and Peru, therefore, where markets
and professional or semi-professional traders exist or did exist,
such persons are almost entirely engaged in intertribal trade.
The Lobi tribes of the French Sudan, West Africa, have a con-

21 Bognras, 67-9. to Dr. James Bunyan for this sig-

22 Vaisberg, 110. I am indebted nificant reference and its translation.

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE 21>J

siderable number of markets which, because of the large variety
of tribal units existing in the region, serve several different groups
at once. In 1931, 40 such markets were counted. This gave an
average of 1 market for 3,700 persons, though actually "those
centers where from 500 to 1,000 gather are rare," since their dis-
tribution is not at all even over the various parts of the district.
Generally, the maximum distance traveled by buyers or sellers is
not more than 12 to 15 kilometers. Men and women leave their
homes in the morning in time to reach the market between ten
o'clock and noon, and leave by two or three o'clock in the after-
noon to be home again before nightfall. Despite French rule,
the cowrie shell, or indigenous type of money, was still em-
ployed; the women traders were especially difficult to convince of
the desirability of change to European currency. Barter, however,
existed jointly with the use of money-tokens, beans being traded
directly for maize, and maize, peanuts, or ground peas for
millet. On the other hand, such commodities as vegetable fats,
yams, potatoes, gumbo, peppers, and other herb condiments used
for sauces were not bartered, the explanation proffered why these
had to be sold for cowries being entirely non-economic: "It isn't
done; it isn't our custom; we haven't thought about it." Livestock
was also customarily bartered, though on occasion cowries were
given for a horse.

The amount of trade varies sharply with the season, markets
showing the greatest activity during the period of the harvest.
An impression of the range of this activity may be had from the
estimates of attendance and volume of business transacted for
three important centers of trade at the end of December, which
is the beginning of the dry season and consequently the busiest
time. At the market of Galgouli, an intertribal center frequented
by the Lobi, the Teguessi, and some Dioula, there were about a
hundred vendors in place at this period; a number which dimin-
ished during the rains to between 50 and 60. Buyers varied be-
tween 250 and 700. At Koul, frequented by persons belonging to
3 tribes from 17 neighboring communities, merchants of both
sexes numbered about 150, and buyers 1,200 to 1,500 at this
period of harvest; but during the rainy season there were barely
20 sellers of goods. Moulpo, in extreme northern Lobi territory,
had from 80 to 100 sellers when business flourished and half that
number otherwise. Taking the Koul market as an example, the

2l8

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

commodities dealt in and their amounts, together with their
value ( the cowrie being equated to its December value in francs,
as will be explained in the next chapter), may be given:

I. NATIVE GOODS; PRODUCE

Number

of
Commodity merchants

Beer

Vegetable fat
Gumbo
Beans
Yams
Maize
Millet
Millet seed
Peppers
Soumbara
Tobacco
Total

Cattle
Goats
Sheep

Guinea-fowl
Chickens
Total

Salt
Hoes
Beads
Leather
Total
Grand total

15
20

8
10

6
20

5
15

6
5
5

10
__8
34

8
5

=
166

Average

number

Total

of units

value

per

Amount

merchant

cowries

300 litres

30,000

250 kilos

12J4

25,000

12 kilos

800

30 kilos

3,000

12 roots

1,500

60 kilos

6,000

200 kilos

20,000

50 kilos

5,000

10 kilos

2,000

40 kilos

5,400

20 "heads"

2J/2

1,000

ANIMALS

6
5
5

40
32

99,700

240,000
10,000
25,000
16,000
12,800

303,800

II. IMPORTED GOODS

100 kilos
60 hoes 12

90 strings
20 kilos 10

40,000
48,000
13,500
40,000

141,500
545,000

Total
value

francs

75.00

62.50

2.00

7.50

3.75

15.00

50.00

12.50

5.00

12.50

^2.50

248^25

600.00
25.00
62.50
40.00

_32X)0

759.50

100.00

120.00

33.75

100.00

353.75
1,361.50

An examination of these data, especially when the average
number of units offered for sale by the individual sellers is cal-
culated, shows that despite the importance of the market in this
farming region, where population varies from 2 to 40 per square
kilometer, trade must be considered an avocation. Moreover,
since the amount of each commodity offered for sale is so slight,
this "also demonstrates that the quantities presented must be

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE

insufficient to provide for a society having a caste structure or
manifesting specialization'' which this one is not. The explana-
tion which follows is entirely in line with the hypotheses ad-
vanced here: "Everyone has his field and lives on what he
harvests, and anyone who refused to do agriculture would be
liable to die of starvation, since only by hard work can a person
raise the grain needed for his family and himself." 23

In the coastal regions, where population is appreciably more
dense, towns larger, and markets play a much more important
role in the internal economy, the professional trader is found in
large numbers. Dahomey, for example, has three types of mar-
kets, none of which is concerned with intertribal trade. These
consist of the wholesale markets, which sell agricultural produce,
the great retail markets, which serve as major instruments in the
circulation of goods, and the small roadside stands. In addition,
every village has a medium-sized evening market. The great re-
tail markets are held in accordance with a four-day cycle, ro-
tating between various centers in a given district, so that when
any community is without a market, some neighboring town will
be having its day of trading.

Though purchases of non-agricultural commodities may be
made directly from the producer, or goods may be bought at one
retail market to be resold at another, many middlemen, especially
those who deal in produce, obtain their supply from wholesale
centers. While it is a very exceptional Dahomean who does not
have his farm, there are nevertheless those who specialize in the
production of staple cereals; these men operate large holdings
and are not concerned with retail trade. Their customers are
women for women are the merchants of Dahomey who repair
to the agricultural centers, where they obtain produce at whole-
sale prices regulated by a technique that accords with the
broader Dahomean patterns of indirection in all kinds of rela-
tions between individuals. The procedure is as follows: Rates at
which produce is sold at retail are carefully checked by these
large cultivators, so that if, for example, a measure of meal sells
for one franc the use of the cowrie in commercial transactions
has largely disappeared in Dahomey the price of a measure of
meal at the next wholesale market will be 80 centimes. Consid-
erations of supply and demand may, however, seriously dislocate

^Labouret (1931), 56, 352-3, 356-61.

22O ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

prices, as when, with unfavorable weather conditions and result-
ant poor crop prospects, the large planters restrict their sales to
conserve grain for seed. Prices thereupon rise sharply until con-
ditions become more favorable.

The women who act as middlemen transport their produce in
large calabashes carried on their heads, and many of them are
known to traverse twenty or thirty kilometers on foot in order to
reach the wholesale market. To these rural wholesale trading
centers they may bring pottery or some other commodity made
in the capital, returning the same night to prepare for the next
day's selling. Women who sell pottery at retail bring in their
heavy pots between markets, while many of those who sell other
goods work their fields between markets or, if they deal in cooked
foods or flour, have these to prepare. The principal retail centers
are of great size, and it has been estimated that on occasion as
many as 10,000 persons pass through such an important market-
place as that of Abomey. To detail the wares sold would neces-
sitate a catalogue of all transportable goods in the material cul-
ture of this people: varieties of mats; native and imported cloths;
food-stuffs, both cooked and uncooked, and condiments of all
kinds; beverages of various sorts; meat; iron objects, such as hoes,
machetes, small knives, axes, and standards which serve as altars
in the ancestral cult; calabashes for utilitarian and luxury uses;
dyes, matches, kerosene, oil, needles, thread; ingredients for
magic charms ranging from antelope horns and the skulls of mon-
keys to countless herbs, variously twisted pieces of iron, thongs
of different lengths and strips of the pelts of leopards and other
felines; pots used for ritual and secular purposes. In the small
roadside markets only food staples, cooked foods, and other ne-
cessities are for sale; here people who are traveling or who,
through oversight or neglect, have not bought all they needed at
a "regular" market to last the intervening three days until the
next one, can fill their immediate needs.

Retail price-fixing is done in various ways. On the coast trade
associations fix the price for the commodities sold by their mem-
bers. A refusal to pay an established price results in concerted
physical action against one who insists on taking goods for less.
In the interior, however, price-fixing is not done in so formal a
manner. Prices of foodstuffs are set by the first woman to trade.
What she asks is based on cost to her, which, being the same on a

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE 221

given day for all who have bought in the wholesale market,
means that everyone who later comes with the same commodity
can sell it at the same rate. These merchants obtain no advan-
tage from price-cutting, and expressed surprise when the pos-
sibility of cutting prices to facilitate the disposal of their wares
was suggested to them. Since prices are stabilized by wholesalers
on the basis of retail price, the one who cut her price would not
benefit beyond a single session of the market. Moreover, because
the amount each woman can transport is limited by her personal
capacity to carry her goods, and only rarely does she have un-
sold produce at the day's end, she would merely be sacrificing
her own anticipated return.

Pottery sells at prices agreed on by the potters for the day, and
no haggling is of any avail, for every woman must sell her pots
at the stated price under fear of penalties exacted by her fel-
lows. Palm-oil is dispensed in standard containers, and sells for
a sum that varies according to the cost of a basket of palm-
kernels. At present this is determined by world prices, but in pre-
European days the price of palm-oil was set by local demand.
Native cloth, woven and sold by men who constitute a closed
guild, must bring a stated return. This is carefully based on pro-
duction costs and takes into consideration the size of a given
cloth, the cost of the raffia and cotton that goes into it, and the
amount of labor needed to produce it. The name of each pattern,
with its selling price, is known to the weavers, and here again
penalties are exacted if the agreed price is cut. Those who make
applique cloths are similarly bound; iron-workers, however, are
free to set their own prices for their own goods, and much hag-
gling results. This is also true of those who supply luxury goods
such as woodcarvings, or the brass and silver figures that are
classed as jewelry." 4

There is little currency found in East Africa, nor, with a few
exceptions, does one find the density of population and complex
economic systems that mark the western and central parts of the
continent. None the less, involved bartering operations have been
reported for a number of tribes living on the frontier between
the Eastern Sudan and Uganda. Here specialized tribal produc-
tion and the exigencies of the natural environment make for in-
tertribal trade, wherein certain groups act outstandingly as

"Hcrskovits (1938), I, 51 ff.

222 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

middlemen. The following diagram is given to indicate the rela-
tive location and number of days' travel from one of these tribes
to another:

Tirangori (agricultural and pastoral)

(3)
Kokir (agricultural and pastoral)

(1)
D
i

d (agricultural and pastoral)
(2) i

Acholi (agricultural) n

g
a

(2)
Dodoth (pastoral)

The Didinga live in the mountains, the Kokir tribe and the Tiran-
gori who inhabit a large settlement of that name, in the foothills,
while the Acholi and Dodoth are found in the plains, the latter
because tribal wars have driven them from their aboriginal
mountain home.

The system of exchange may be described from the point of
view of the Didinga, who have many cattle, but few sheep and
goats, of which they have need. The Kokir also want goats. The
Tirangori, who possess sheep and goats in abundance, need cat-
tle to replace those lost through war and pestilence. But the
Didinga, "owing to geographical and political circumstances/'
cannot trade directly with the Tirangori, so the Kokir must act as
intermediary. They buy cows from the Didinga for 28 goats each,
and sell them, despite their own desire for cattle, to the Tiran-
gori for 60 goats. "All the parties are accordingly satisfied, and
ultimately get what each wants." Yet the Didinga need more goats
than the Kokir can supply. For they must buy other products
from other tribes, especially from the Acholi, who sell them the
spears, axes, hoes, and bracelets they want, demanding for these
not only the ostrich feathers and eggs and ocher the Didinga can
supply out of their own resources, but also goats, for which they
must trade.

The Didinga, being agricultural as well as pastoral, trade grain
to the Dodoth, who "do not grow it themselves, but have ac-
quired a taste for it since they migrated from their mountains."

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE

The latter give sheep for this grain. Now, while in years of nor-
mal harvest the Didinga can supply the Dodoth with all the grain
they wish, in poor years they must import this commodity from
the Acholi to take care of the demands of the Dodoth. This, how-
ever, means* that in normal years they must also buy Acholi
grain, otherwise not only could they not obtain this commodity
when they needed it, but the Acholi would themselves sell di-
rectly to the Dodoth, since their only reason for not trading
directly for the sheep and goats they want is that the Didinga
trade assures them of the disposal of their surplus grain every
year, no matter what the weather.

The upshot of all this is that the Didinga import grain from
the Acholi for re-export, in order that they may get goats
from the Dodoth. They also import more goats from the
Kokir than they need for their own use, in order that they
may re-export them to the Acholi as a set-off against the
metal manufactures with which the Acholi alone can supply
them. They take elaborate precautions to prevent the Do-
doth short-circuiting them by maintaining an unnecessary
trade in grain with the Acholi, and in the process the two
middlemen, the Kokir and the Didinga, make quite a good
profit every year." 5

The wide distribution of markets, with middlemen operating
in connection with them, or independently, could be documented
by many more instances if space permitted; but only a few of
the numerous variants can be given. In Siberia, men who on
occasion acted as agents for their neighbors, carrying skins to
the sea coast for disposal, and who found this life of travel con-
genial, became professional traders, profiting from the commis-
sions they received for disposing of these wares in the course of
operations carried on at stated times and at fixed places along
the coast. 26

For the tribes of the Pacific Northwest the market at The
Dalles, described by many of the early explorers, was a center
where commodities were exchanged on a considerable scale. The
Wishram, "wholly middlemen," controlled this market, though not
exclusively, and its presence as the focal point of trade in the
area made it unnecessary for these people to go abroad to do

25 Driberg (1929), 25-9. 20 Bogoras, 65-7.

224 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

their trading. 27 Lewis and Clark, in 1805, observed how one of
the products used by the Wishram in their considerable trade
was prepared. Fish were dried, pounded, and then pressed into
baskets lined with salmon-skins so as to make a cake about "two
feet long and one in diameter." These baskets were stacked and
kept until needed, the food remaining "sound and sweet for sev-
eral years." That the "great quantities" these travelers observed
being held before they were traded as far as the mouth of the
Columbia River is no exaggeration is indicated by the fact that
at The Dalles they "counted one hundred and seven" bundles of
fish-containers, "making more than ten thousand pounds of that
provision." 2s

In California, the Achomawi were intermediaries between the
Sacramento Valley Wintum and the Modoc and also perhaps
the Paiute who lived farther inland; "as in the civilized world, the
lowlanders received raw materials and gave manufactures to
the back people." 20 To the great trading centers of pre-conquest
Mexico City came as many as 10,000 persons to buy and sell,
while, in addition, still more business was done at its specialized
counterparts. The operations of the Mexican merchant guilds il-
lustrate not only how trade is furthered by such institutions, but
also the complexity of the distributional processes in the larger
social aggregates, 30 a tradition that persists to the present. This
is to be seen in the detailed list of numbers of sellers, amount of
business transacted, and localities of specialists selling in con-
temporary markets of Tzintzuntzan. 31

Bartering between the Lhota Naga of Assam and the peoples
of the plains to whom they bring their goods involves the em-
ployment of a special kind of middleman where the buying and
selling of mithan (bos frontalis), ivory armlets, and boars' tushes
are concerned. These commodities, it is believed, are "particu-
larly liable to be infected with evil fortune." An old man must
therefore act as intermediary for their sale, his duty being to give
the final word after preliminary bargaining between the princi-
pals. "Any ill luck is believed to attach itself to him as nominal
buyer, rather than to the real buyer, who pays him a commis-
sion of Re. 1 for a mithan, eight annas for an ivory armlet, and

27 Spier and Sapir, 224 ff.; Teit 20 Krocber, 309.

(1928), 121-2. 80 Thompson, 75-7, 126-33.

2a Spier and Sapir, 178-9. 81 Foster (1948), 132-8.

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE 225

four annas for a pair of boar's tushes." The striking case of a
hereditary caste of middlemen in the trade between Tibet and
Nepal is also to be remarked. 32

An additional instance of the varied and complex economic
interrelationships that in Melanesia have given rise to systems of
trading with middlemen as constant factors, and of which ex-
amples have been encountered in previous chapters, can be given
here to afford concrete documentation of this point for the area.
This instance concerns the non-ritual businesslike transactions
that are essential parts of the operations carried on by members
of the Kula ring, wherein the natives of one island, Sinaketa, "act
as intermediaries between the industrial centers of the Trobri-
ands and Dobu." In the following table the second column shows
"the prices paid by the Sinakctans to the industrial villages of
Kuboma, a district in the Northern Trobriands," while the third
column records what these same people receive for their pur-
chases when they dispose of them in Dobu:

Kuboma to Sinaketa Dobu to Sinaketa

\ tanepopo basket 12 coco-nuts 12 coco-nuts -j~ sa^o + 1 belt

1 comb 4 coco-nuts 4 coco-nuts -j- 1 bunch of betel

1 armlet 8 coco-nuts 8 coco-nuts + 2 bunches of betel

1 lime pot 12 coco-nuts 12 coco-nuts + 2 pieces of sago M

Only in Polynesia, of all the principal areas of the world, do
we find the exchange of goods on a non-ceremonial basis almost
entirely lacking. The statement made for Samoa is, however, gen-
erally valid for the other parts of the region: "With the exception
of a few cases . . . all strictly commercial transactions in which
goods arc exchanged are of ... [a] ... petty, intra-familial,
unstylized character." J4 Markets, as such, are thus practically
unknown. The subsistence needs of all are satisfied by their own
economic self-sufficiency, while the acquisition of prestige is
cared for by the lavish gift-giving that marks the feasts given on
occasions of special importance.

THE INSTITUTION of credit is widely spread in nonliterate socie-
ties, accompanies all typos of exchanges, and is found in cultures

82 Mills, 44; Pant, 217-18. 3 * Mead (1930a), 75.

3J Malinowski (1922), 362-4.

226 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

of all degrees of economic complexity. An outstanding instance
of credit operations in a society of this kind existed among the
Kwakiutl of Vancouver Island, where it forms the basis of the
renowned potlatch, better known for its waste of valuable goods
than for its more sober economic functions.

The economic system of the Indians of British Columbia is
largely based on credit, just as much as that of civilized
countries. . . . This economic system has developed to such
an extent that the capital possessed by all the individuals of
the tribe combined exceeds many times the actual amount
of cash that exists; that is to say, the conditions are quite
analogous to those prevailing in our community; if we want
to call in all our outstanding debts, it is found that there is
not by any means money enough in existence to pay them,
and the result of an attempt of all the creditors to call in
their loans results in disastrous panic, from which it takes
the community a long time to recover.

This credit structure is founded on well-recognized interest
rates: 5 blankets borrowed "for a period of a few months" be-
come 6, for 6 months 7, and for a year or longer 10, which means
that the lowest return is 20 per cent. Names actual names, that
is, as against "good will" such as we know in business usage, and
which are not so different in their economic functioning can be
pawned. As always in pawning, however, an exorbitant rate of
interest is charged, a name pledged for 30 blankets for a year
requiring 100 to redeem it. A young man gets his start in life by
borrowing blankets to be repaid at 100 per cent interest within
a year. He distributes them as forced loans to his relatives, and
these "loans" are repaid within the month at 300 per cent; lend-
ing his stock again in more normal fashion, "at the close of the
year ... he may possess about 400 blankets." 35 It is important
to note, however, that while the mechanism of interest-bearing
loans forms the basis for the potlatch, "lending and repayment
form no part of the potlatch distribution." Rather "they arc pre-
liminary to it, and are engaged in for the purpose of accumu-
lating the amounts necessary for the distribution." 3G

35 Boas (1897), 341-2; (1898), structure.
54-5; see also Codere, 68-75, for a 3ti Barnett (1938), 353.

more detailed analysis of this credit

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE

Credit, as it functions in the ritual exchanges of a society hav-
ing a relatively complex economic structure is to be contrasted
with the forms of it found among the Australians. Here the "mes-
sage-stick" system used in Queensland, and the merbok of the
Daly River tribes are equally examples of credit structures which,
though disguised by their sociological trappings, are essentially
economic in their effects. 37 A not dissimilar type of delayed re-
turn existed among the New Zealand Maori, where one who "re-
ceived potted birds in their season, returned the compliment by
sending a present of fish when the due time came for catching
them." The same was true of other commodities; that these gifts
carried obligations of repayment is made clear, since one "waited,
and kept his account until the other should repay." Repayment in
the form of a larger gift than received was a matter of prestige,
however, and hence cannot be regarded as interest in the strict
sense of the term. 38

Many accounts of credit operations in Melanesia are avail-
able. 39 In New Guinea, a type which in some respects resembles
installment buying, despite its outer form as payment by the
tender of gifts, centers on the purchase of canoes among the
Kiwai. Canoes were traded from east to west, and "all kinds of
native merchandise kept travelling in the opposite direction in
payment for them." The seller received the major portion of his
price on delivery; each time he visited the buyer's village, as well
as "on other suitable occasions," further contributions were
added. This lasted as long as the canoe was serviceable; when it
broke up, the buyer sent an armshell or a string of dogs' teeth.
The latter, a highly valuable item, which was traditionally looked
upon as the conventional mark of final payment, emphasized its
significance as an indication that no more goods would be forth-
coming by attaching to it a small piece of the broken craft. If
the purchaser died while the canoe was yet serviceable, his heirs
were obligated to continue the payments. One especially inter-
esting aspect of this system was that all transactions were carried
on through middlemen, who took their commission not only on
the initial payment, but on each succeeding installment. Their

37 Roth (1897), 138; Stanner, 16.

20-1. 30 E.g., Seligman (1910), 109;

38 Raymond Firth (1929), 415- Deacon, 196-7; Codrington, 326-7.

228 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

fees were regarded as legitimate, and the intermediaries held to
strict honesty out of considerations of self-interest. 40

Credit among the Ifugao took the form of loans on which in-
terest, properly speaking that is, recognized payment of debt-
service over and above what was borrowed was regularly ex-
acted. These people even had a "form of bank discount" called
patang, in terms of which interest was paid in advance for one
year. "On a carabao (usually worth about eighty pesos) this
amounts to thirty pesos a year," and was followed by an equal
payment at the end of the period "for the next year" if not
promptly repaid. If the loan of the animal was only for three
months, ten pesos was given. Borrowing of the ordinary sort
could be for ritual, non-economic purposes, but more often was
done to obtain rice for subsistence until the corning harvest.
Rates of interest were high; rice loaned at any time had to be
doubly repaid at the next harvest, and the loan of a pig meant
the return of two pigs the same size, or one twice as large, the
following year, while money also commanded a hundred per
cent return. If a loan was not paid on time, the interest was com-
pounded at an almost incomprehensible rate: "If not paid the
first year the debt is four times as great as the principal at the
end of the second or third year. It does not take long for a
chicken borrowed to become a carabao owed."

Thus a man who borrowed 3 pesos to meet the expenses of his
father's funeral owed 24 pesos four years later; the creditor stated
he would permit the debt to run for another year when, if it was
not discharged, he would seize a rice field as payment. One
wealthy man, who had loaned a poor family 200 bundles of rice
worth 5 pesos at harvest time some five or 6 years previously, was
demanding a carabao worth from 75 to 90 pesos as a final settle-
ment of the debt. As may be imagined, these obligations were
not met cheerfully and often were not repaid at all, though by
invoking supernatural sanctions and the services of a professional
collector, creditors often could obtain payment. These procedures
were expensive, however, and the high rates of interest were
thus partially looked upon as insurance against bad debts. 41 In-
terest rates in Assam are anything but low. Among the Sema
Nagas the return is similar to that of the Lhota tribe, where

40 Landtman (1927), 214-15. 41 Barton (1919), 56-7; (1922),

42,5-6.

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE 22Q

money brings 50 per cent, not compounded, the loan running
for two years only. When rice is borrowed, four baskets per an-
num must be returned for each six loaned, while 100 per cent
per annum, compounded, is the going rate for loans of salt. 42

Africa, especially West Africa, where in the days preceding
European control pawning was a regular feature in the economic
life, furnishes numerous instances of the extension of credit. In
Dahomey, pawns had to be children of the debtor, and slaves
were not accepted. The labor performed by the pawns for the
creditor was thought of as interest, and where the sum borrowed
was not repaid at the time agreed upon, an extension was ar-
ranged under which the child continued to work for a longer
period. If the pawn was a daughter, the creditor might take her
as a wife in the event of too great a delay in repayment, the debt
being canceled in lieu of the customary gifts and services of the
son-in-law. Where the pawn was a son, protracted non-payment
of the debt was ended by a final period of service, at the end of
which the amount borrowed had to be doubly repaid or another
mature son had to be put to work for the creditor. In such in-
stances the lender specified how much labor was to be performed
before the debt would be considered discharged and the pawn
released. If the creditor was a farmer, he might calculate the
number of rows to be hoed (the rate of pay for this in 1931 being
2 francs for 200 rows) to satisfy the amount due. As as alterna-
tive, the chief of the village might calculate the time needed for
a man to do this work, after which the pawn was to be auto-
matically released. Another form of pawning is still practiced
in Dahomey, the pledging of palm groves. When a grove is ten-
dered as security, the yield to be expected from it is calculated.
Half this amount is pledged to debt service, the rest being ap-
plied to the repayment of principal. Regardless of the actual
yield, the debt is automatically canceled and the grove is re-
turned to its owner after the expiration of the period fixed on for
the second half of the amount calculated to equal the loan. 43

Credit in Africa does not, however, depend on the existence of
a monetary system any more than elsewhere in the nonliterate
world, as is indicated by the frequency of lending among the
Tswana. Here nothing corresponding to interest is found; only
in such cases as where a cow is purchased but delivery is not

42 Mills, 45; Hutton, 160-2. Hcrskovits (1938), I, 82-5.

23 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

taken at the time of purchase does it happen that the transfer of
title carried with it the obligation to render with the animal any
calves it may have borne between the time when the sale was
made and delivery. 44

The instances of credit cited here, like the numerous other ex-
amples cited by Schechter in his discussion of the subject, indi-
cate how widely distributed is the institution of credit and its
concomitant, interest. It is reasonable to suppose that the ex-
planation for its widespread incidence is to be found in the two
factors suggested by Schechter to explain the mechanisms which
everywhere protect the creditor: the collective responsibility of
the group to whom the debtor belongs and "the absence in prim-
itive law of any statute of limitations." 45 Certainly it becomes
apparent how, in furthering the business transactions that stimu-
late the flow of goods from those who have them to those who
need them, credit helps, in nonliterate societies no less than in
our own, to give the economic structure of group life the stabil-
ity that is essential to its continued efficiency of operation.

THE LIGHT that the materials thus far cited throw on the nature
of value may now be briefly considered. Here it will be useful to
turn to a classical statement of the concept in its economic impli-
cations, that of Adam Smith. "The word VALUE, it is to be ob-
served," he says, "has two different meanings, and sometimes ex-
presses the utility of some particular object, and sometimes the
power of purchasing other goods which the possession of that
object conveys. The one may be called Value in use'; the other
Value in exchange/ " 4G It is apparent that, with the development
of time, and with the concentration of the concern of economists
on the price mechanism, the first of Adam Smith's two qualifi-
cations of the word has tended to be lost sight of. "This capacity
which a thing has for being exchanged is called its value, just as
the capacity which a thing has for being extended is called its
length/ " 47 writes Boulding. Or, again, Benham and Boddy state,
"The noun Value' in modern economic writing always means

"Schapera (1938), 243-5. 40 Smith, 28.

45 Schechter, 583-90. 47 Boulding, 256.

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE

value in exchange. Values are nearly always expressed in money,
and are then termed prices. . . . The value of one thing must
always be expressed in terms of another; it is the rate at which
they exchange against one another the amount of Y which can
be exchanged against a unit of X; there can be no such thing as
intrinsic value in the modern economic sense of the term
Value/" 48

It is apparent that while the problem of value has been greatly
simplified by such a restricted approach, this has not been
achieved without sacrificing flexibility and applicability. The
difficulties resulting from this shift in emphasis have been rec-
ognized, even for the machine societies, by institutionalists. 49
It has also figured in the discussions of those who have studied
the economies of nonliterate peoples, or who have drawn on such
data to give their analysis a broad comparative base. The posi-
tion of modern economists may well merit re-examination by
them in the interest of greater flexibility for their conception of
value, in the light of its applicability to non-pecuniary societies.

Hoyt distinguishes between "valuation," which is held to be
"any expression of interest," and an "economic valuation," de-
fined as "any such expression of interest in an economic good or
service, interpreted in the widest sense." 50 Firth expresses a sim-
ilar point of view when he says: "Economic value represents only
a specific instance of the general concept, which is, in the widest
sense, a subjective appreciation of judgment based upon the
functional interrelation between a person and an object of inter-
est." 51 Beaglehole also generalizes concerning the psychological
nature of value on the basis of data from nonliterate societies:

From the subjective point of view, value is more complex
than the economists would allow. Objects become values
when they are desired; they are desired primarily because
they satisfy major impulses; and secondly, objects are de-
sired because they have been assimilated to, or integrated
with, primary values and thus new values have become in-
tegrated with the personality." 52

48 Bcnham and Boddy, 79. sophical problem of value in Lepley.

4U Ayres (1938), 41-4. 51 Raymond Firth (1929), 386.

50 Hoyt (1926), 34; see also the "Beaglehole (1932), 151.
exhaustive inquiry into the philo-

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Allowing that evaluation as a psychological phenomenon, and
value, as a philosophical concept, are both important subjects
for discussion, and that they underlie the economic manifesta-
tions of value, such attacks on the problem are, nevertheless, so
broad as to be meaningless for an analysis of specific manifesta-
tions of the phenomenon as it operates in the restricted domain
of the process of evaluating goods and services incident to an
exchange of goods or a payment for goods or services. Thurn-
wald is probably not far from the mark, certainly as concerns
most cases in nonliterate societies where a given evaluation must
be made in the exchange of goods or in payment for services,
when he states that "economic transactions refer more to the
quality and kind of real articles than to abstract values." M The
implications of this statement, however, grouping, as it does, the
manifold practices of nonliterate societies the world over, must
be recognized as too broad to apply to many specific tribes. Hoyt,
in another passage, envisages three psychological processes that
are essential if the "perfect price" of the economists and our
own more modest aim is to result from a judgment of value
made upon the presentation of a given object: "A man must want
goods; he must be able to conceive these goods in terms of the
valuation of other goods; and he must be willing to negotiate
with other persons for purposes of trade." 54

On the basis of his analysis of the economic system of Tikopia,
Firth writes: "Strictly speaking, ... in a ... community with
no money, no prices in the ordinary sense of the term, and not
even a thorough-going system of exchange of goods, there are no
economic values. We seem to be left with simply a set of relative
utilities of goods their Value in use' according to an older eco-
nomic terminology." 55 The question is pursued further, in these
terms:

If ... the economic value of a thing is taken in the more
general sense as the amount of that thing that can be got in
exchange for another having regard to circumstances of time
and place, then there are many primitive economic phe-
nomena to which the term can be applied, even though there
be no single medium of exchange. ... A concept which
may help us here is that of equivalence. ... In a comrnu-

63 Thurnwald (1932b), xiii. 5G Firth (1939), 333.

54 Hoyt (1926), 5.

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE 233

nity where actual exchange of the items against one another
may never take place the idea of an imagined substitution
or theoretical exchange can still allow us to construct a scale
of what might be termed "economic values." This means a
substantial rather than a formal use of the term. Goods are
related to one another by a process of tacit comparison in
which measurement is given by the possibility of substitu-
tion and not by actual transfer against one another. 50

Firth sums up the matter when he says that "the absence of
money or prices troubles the economist more than it does the
native." 57

It must be obvious at this point that values in most societies
are not arrived at on the basis of considerations drawn in terms
of price differentials, nor yet in terms of those hedonistic ends
that have at times been held to be their principal determinant.
Taking as given the psychology of evaluation, and assuming it
to be fundamental to any process of evaluating anything, we may
then ask the question of especial interest here: Why, in a given
society, do the values attached to goods or services take the
forms in which they are actually found?

Let us bring certain further materials to bear on this problem.
If we refer once again to the Guiana Indians, we learn:

In trade and barter the value of an article to the Indian de-
pends upon his temporary want of it and not upon its in-
trinsic worth. . . . An Indian at one time shall require an
axe, in exchange for that for which at another he will de-
mand only a fishhook, without regarding any disproportion
between their value.

These are trade goods, but apparently the principle holds gen-
erally: "In the absence of a medium of exchange an Indian has
nothing to sell unless the buyer happens to be in possession of
what ho wants." 5h It is apparent that in this case only perceived
immediate utility determines a given evaluation. Shortly before
1900 the Siberian Lamut reindeer commanded about twice the
sum required to buy a Chuckchee reindeer:

Usually, a Lamut fawn is exchanged for a grown Chuckchee

B Ihicl., ;330-7. M Roth ( 1924), 632-3.

57 Ibid., 35.

234 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

reindeer. A broken Lamut reindeer is worth three Chuck-
chee reindeer; and the Lamut and the Tungus often break
all the young bucks in their herds in order to barter them
away to the Chuckchee. Therefore the larger portion of
Chuckchee harness-reindeer are at the present time of the
Lamut race. The Lamut, on the other hand, have stopped
slaughtering their own reindeer because they can always get
Chuckchee reindeer, which are cheaper, and better fitted
for the purpose.

Here the labor of breaking in an animal determines its exchange
value; on the other hand, that it was possible to record "the
highest famine price" of a large buck would also seem to argue
that scarcity can likewise enter in the establishment of relative
worth. 59

Numerous instances of valuations based on labor and scarcity
have been recorded among the California Indians. To the Yurolc,
"even a common deerskin represented value when prepared for
dance use. Besides the hide, there was the labor of stuffing the
head, and woodpecker scalps were needed for ears, eyes, throat
and tongue." Furtherfore, "an unusually light or dark skin was
worth more, and those that the Yurok call 'gray' and *black* and
'red* are estimated at from $50 to $100. A pure albino skin, with
transparent hoofs, is rated at from $250 to $500." Yet, from the
point of view of value theory, it is to be noted that these highest
figures are noted as theoretical only, being "given for the sake
of comparison," since the value of goods of this degree of scarcity
cannot among the Yurok any more than among ourselves be other
than arbitrarily determined, especially since such articles prac-
tically never change hands. The values attached to individual
pieces of obsidian in this tribe were similarly determined, while
among the Porno dentalium shells were evaluated according to
size, thickness, and polish. Other folk living at various distances
from the source of supply of this "money" not only base their
evaluations of these shells on labor and scarcity, but also on such
factors as "where the raw material was obtained, by whom it was
worked, and by what routes transported." 60

The prices of products sold in the Yoruba markets of Nigeria
demonstrate how, in a pecuniary economy, the labor of trans-

59 Bogoras, 73, 96. Kroebcr, 26-7, 248-9.

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE

porting goods to market can play an important part in determin-
ing values as expressed in price. Since the "gain" that accrues to
the women traders depends on the differential between the vari-
ous trading places, it is their business to know where to buy
cheap and where to sell dear. Most of the farm produce sold in
the town market of Ife is grown on the "far farms" which lie in
a belt surrounding the town at a distance of some five and twelve
miles. The traders, however, seldom buy at the markets regularly
held in this belt because, while these markets are almost as far
from town as the farms themselves, their prices are higher than
at those for which produce can be bought. Therefore the market-
women either go directly to the farmer, or wait on the farm
paths to buy from those who carry their own produce to town.
The price differentials are of the following order: farm produce
costs least at the farms, becomes more expensive at the far mar-
kets, costs still more at intermediate trading points, and com-
mands the highest price in the retail markets within town. Fur-
thermore, the closer a given farm is to Ife, the higher the price
that the traders are willing to pay for its produce; and the farm-
ers themselves recognize that in order to attract the market-
women to more distant farms, they must offer the inducement of
lower prices. 61

Another example of how a pecuniary standard makes for
modes of determination of values that are in line with canons of
economic theory derived from the presence of money is avail-
able in the economy of Panajachel of Guatemala. The people of
this village, who "enter in minor ways, into the capitalistic world
economic system" have, as far as they and their neighbors are
concerned, what is described as "a domestic money economy
with a strongly developed market which tends to be perfectly
competitive." The unit of production is the family, and the local
specialization in certain agricultural products makes it necessary
to sell these so as to obtain, by purchase in the market, all sub-
sistence and production goods. Buying and selling is for cash;
credit can be extended and interest is known, but these are rarely
found. What is important is that "the price of a product in a
given market is fixed by the law of supply and demand." Sales,
moreover, are made on the basis of cost estimates which empiri-
cal analysis shows to be remarkably accurate. Endowed with

61 Bascom ( communicated ) .

236 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

"the spirit of business enterprise," this example shows how, in a
nonliterate but pecuniary society, we may encounter an almost
classical economic system." 2

As usual, the data from Melanesia are numerous, and it will be
seen in the next chapter how carefully, for example, the Male-
kulans computed the value of their pigs in terms of the degree of
curvature of their tusks, this being an expression of scarcity. On
Rossel Island, the value of money was related to the size of the
pieces and the work that had been put into preparing these
shells. Among the southern Massim of New Guinea, both labor
and scarcity and, in addition, certain imponderables of taste and
tradition enter into the values given the ceremonial axe blades
called benam. These evaluations vary largely, but "the larger and
thinner the stones the more valuable they are; their value is also
increased by the presence of light bands and inclusions which in
the polished condition show as streaks. . . ." In general, in this
Massim area, objects of this kind most highly valued are ac-
corded this distinction for two reasons:

(i) the refractory nature of the material of which they are
made, necessitating prolonged work in order to produce the
finished article, and (ii) durability. . . . The rarity of cer-
tain of the raw materials was also of importance as was the
skill required to work them/" 1

Under famine conditions in the Trobriands, the price of seed
yams became so high that a valuable stone axe, which in ordi-
nary times was valued at 100 baskets, could be acquired for 10
baskets. 64

There is, in all probability, no single explanation of the phe-
nomenon of value, and certainly no single expression of it. It not
only presents multiple facets to one who would follow its mani-
festations over the world, but it must also be regarded as de-
termined in multiple ways in every society, and not always in

62 Tax, Ch. 2, 1-13. For the brief can markets, where, as he puts it,

description of another economy of "in few places of the worlu is the

this general area, see Wagley; and exchange situation closer to the

for the ecological setting and details economist's ideal of a 'free mar-

of productive and market operations ket/ "

in the region see McBryde, esp. 71- 3 Scligman, C. G. (1910), 517,

124. Foster (1948), 145-7, gives an 520-1.

exposition of the working of Mexi- *' 4 Malinowski (1935), 163.

BUSINESS ENTERPRISE, CREDIT AND VALUE 237

every case by the same factors. A statement which shows how
specific and individual the basis of evaluation may be among the
Australian Murngin makes this clear:

The governing principle in the evaluation of objects which
will be kept permanently by their owner is the ease with
which they can be transported by human carriage or dug-
out canoe. The amount of labor consumed in their manufac-
ture contributes in some degree to their high value as indi-
vidual property, and the relative scarcity of an object in
nature or in trade also makes its contributions to Murngin
economic values; but the final desideratum is the relative
ease of transportation of the article, since this society has no
domesticated beast of burden. Metal containers obtained in
trade with white missionaries are extremely scarce and
highly prized; yet if of very large size they will be given to
someone remaining in camp or cut up and put to other

uses. Gr>

It is thus apparent that all the relevant factors operate within
the limits set in any given instance by the body of tradition of
the people among whom a given economic transaction takes
place. These factors can be effective only in terms of a pattern
of value that is a part of the larger patterning of the culture
concerned. The phenomenon of value, in other words, can only
be understood as one part of the wider phenomenon of culture.
Lacking precise information, the problem can at least be ap-
proached with an understanding that every system of economic
equivalences must be analyzed in the light of its peculiar sanc-
tions and its own special social setting.

M Warner, 148.

CHAPTER XI

MONET AND WEALTH

ALTHOUGH it is not easy to define the concept of money with
precision, it is possible, if lines are not drawn too rigidly, to ob-
tain a reasonably clear and reasonably valid delineation of it.
Its function as a medium of exchange and a standard denomi-
nator of value, its characteristics of "homogeneity, portability,
devisability and durability," and its subsidiary role as "a store
of value and a standard of deferred payments" have long been
agreed on by economists as its proper attributes. A further dis-
tinction can be made between currency, those "types of money
which are subject to some form of public regulation," and other
circulating media. However, we need not dwell upon this
here, since in nonliterate societies there is almost never any con-
scious control by political authority over whatever tokens of
value may circulate. The fact that these tokens, which "are gener-
ally acceptable in exchange . . . necessarily involves a tacit
consent on the part of the community in which they circulate" '
is quite reason enough why these finer distinctions can be dis-
regarded.

We shall not be concerned with most of the many attempts that
have been made to ascertain the origin and development of
money, wherein much confusion is apparent as to the nature of
money in presumably "early" societies. Such hypotheses as those
of Schurtz, in which the rise of money is referred to the exigen-
cies of "external" trade, 2 or the critique and development of this
idea by Schmidt, 3 are too speculative to merit discussion. Certain
other approaches, however, may be mentioned. Hartland has

1 Gregory, 601-02. M. Schmidt (1920-1), II, 157-

2 Schurtz, panim. 62.

MONEY AND WEALTH

stated: "Where commercial transactions become common (and
many barbarous peoples speedily acquire commercial habits)
some sort of currency is necessary. Various materials have been
used for this purpose . . ." 4 This indicates something of the
vagueness that may be encountered. Biicher, dismissing with a
phrase all the tokens used by nonliterate folk to express value,
and emphasizing the rudimentary character of "the many spe-
cies of money among primitive peoples," of which "much has
been written and imagined," reduces the matter to the following
formula: "The money of each tribe is that trading commodity
which it does not itself produce, but which it regularly acquires
from other tribes by way of exchange." 5 Firth calls salt and
other consumption goods money, 6 while Thurnwald, noting "the
point of departure" in the evolution of money as that "marked
by favorite articles of barter, usually between communities of
approximately equal standing," adds: "This, as a rule, involves
the exchange of traditional quantities or packages, as in the case
of sago or tobacco, for corresponding quantities of the other ar-
ticles." In concluding his discussion, he speaks of certain con-
sumable goods attaining "a status equivalent to real money," but
the statement is documented only with instances of money-
barter. 7

Another controversial point, which illustrates the advantage
of drawing flexible definitions in this field, is the extent to which
"valuables" exchanged by nonliterate folk are to be regarded as
money. It is evident here that either too rigid an adherence to
the definitions of the economists, or too much attention given to
sociological considerations, must serve to obscure the essential
significance. Thus, when Malinowski, following the accepted po-
sition of the economists, indicates that objects which ceremo-
nially exchange hands in the Kula rituals of Melanesia are not
money because they are neither generally used as media of ex-
change, nor function as measures of value, he is on solid ground. 8
On the other hand, Mauss, insisting that objects of this type
must be regarded as money despite the fact that they are "sub-
jective and personal," have changing value, and are often used
as talismans because of their magical significance, makes his case

4 Hartland, 115. 7 Thurnwald ( 1932b), 252-65.

5 Bucher, 67-8. 9 Malinowski (1921), 13.

6 Raymond Firth (1929b).

24O ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

by pointing to instances where such objects are used to purchase
goods or services, both in the Trobriand Islands and elsewhere. 9
The most advisable procedure would seem to counsel concen-
trating on the place of these objects in the economic system be-
fore classifying them as money or merely as "valuables." If they
are measures of value, exchangeable for goods, or given in pay-
ment of services, they must be thought of as money, whether or
not they serve in all situations as symbols expressing value, or
are put to magical uses, or are worn as ornaments. Consequently,
when "valuables" of the Kula ring are ritually exchanged only
for each other, and never for the commodities whose barter is a
concomitant of the trading rites, they are not money; but when,
as Mauss states, they are accepted by the natives in payment for
the pearls they fish for Europeans, they are to that extent money.
Tokens like the coppers of the Indians of the Northwest Coast of
North America, the great stone "wheels" of the islanders of Yap,
and the cattle of the East Africans resemble in a very real sense
the crown jewels to which Malinowski compares the "valuables"
of the Trobriand islanders. 10 and should not be confused, as they
so often are, with media of exchange. 11 But can the cowrie shells
of West Africa be held any the less money because, besides their
general use as a medium of exchange, they are found as decora-
tions on the stools of rich men, or as attributes of magic charms?
Are not the ndap of Rossel Island money when used to* purchase
a pig, despite the fact that ceremonial surrounds the transaction,
and despite the fact that such ceremonial does not enter when
humbler objects such as baskets or lime sticks are bought? Or
cannot the dentalium shells of California be regarded as money,
even though, in some instances, they are used only to purchase
prestige and services?

The importance of the comparative study of the nature and
functioning of money, as well as the obstacles to be faced in de-
fining the phenomenon with clarity and classifying its many
manifestations, is apparent in two works devoted to the subject,
both of which appeared in 1949. 12 In both, the definitions ad-
vanced present a dual difficulty to the readers of these works,
since the attention of the writers is so fixed on delimiting the

9 Mauss, 68, n. 1. n E.g., Mosher, 27-51.

10 Malinowski (1922), 88. 12 Quiggin, Einzig.

MONEY AND WEALTH 241

meaning of the word "money" that nowhere, in either volume, is
the meaning of the term "primitive" made clear. A slight digres-
sion may therefore be of value in examining this aspect of these
approaches, particularly since we have here so clear an example
of the difficulties inherent in the use of this term as a significant
delimiting concept, a point already discussed in earlier pages. 13

Quiggin's work is, first of all, oriented in terms of an outmoded
evolutionistic tradition in anthropology. In these terms, "prim-
itive" money seems to include all kinds of expressions of value
used by "simpler societies" or "less advanced societies," as against
the tokens found among "civilized" peoples. The assumed in-
evitability of change toward the use of money as found in the
literate cultures of Europe and America, which permeates the
argument of this student, likewise obscures her meaning of
"primitive." "The following chapters," she says, "are concerned
with such objects as are or have been accepted by peoples be-
fore the introduction of a system of coined money." 14 The bulk
of the examples of all kinds of repositories of value that are set
forth in the major portion of the book is drawn, therefore, from
contemporary nonliterate societies, though a chapter on Europe
involves the data of prehistory, while examples are also given of
barter in various early colonial areas between colonists in lieu of
transactions based on the use of currency. The meaning of the
term "primitive" as employed by Einzig is implied in the fol-
lowing passage: "The period which our enquiry must cover ex-
tends over more than five thousand years for which there is
written evidence. We have also to try to probe into dark ages
which lie beyond this period, and into blanks that exist, unfor-
tunately, even in the historical period. The communities we have
to deal with range from savage cannibal tribes to highly civil-
ized nations." 15

In his work not only is the scope of "primitive" data indicated
in these terms, but an assumption is seemingly predicated of
differences in quality of intellect and perception on the part of
"primitive" and "civilized" man. To study the problem of money
in Egypt and Greece, we are told, is comparatively easy, "be-
cause of the advanced intellectual standard of the historical races

13 See above, 25-9. 15 Einzig, 16.

14 Q l "8 in 4-

242 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

even in the early phases of their history." With "primitive" peo-
ples in this instance, it would seem, the nonliterate groupings
the matter is otherwise:

The real difficulty comes when we have to deal with races
at a primitive stage of evolution. Their intellectual standard
is inferior and their mentality is totally different from ours.
We are, so to say, not on the same wavelength. Their atti-
tude towards money differs fundamentally from ours in
many respects. Unless we duly appreciate this difference,
we leave no means of understanding primitive money. 1 ' 5

If we seek an operational definition of the word "primitive" in
Einzig's approach, the matter is not greatly clarified. In the sec-
tions headed "Ethnological," discussions often take the form of
symbols of value used in trade between natives and Europeans,
or in the dealings of early colonists among themselves. The "His-
torical" sections are concerned with "primitive" money among
prehistoric, early historic, and contemporary literate peoples. Per-
haps here it is possible, by inference, to perceive the delimita-
tion of the word "primitive" as "customary," perhaps in contrast
to the word "legal." As will become apparent when this author's
definition of "primitive money" is considered, it is difficult to see
in his conception of the word "primitive" any other exclusive
significance, though implicit in his treatment is the acceptance
of all the value-connotations of the word that are ethnocentri-
cally derived and thus are inacceptable for the scientific analysis
of cross-cultural phenomena.

Much of the difficulty both these authors experience in defin-
ing the second word of the phrase with which they are concerned
arises from the problem of distinguishing between "money" and
"currency." This, we have seen, is a question that is not too diffi-
cult of resolution, and has been resolved by the economists in
what may be thought of as political, rather than economic terms
currency being a common medium of exchange subject to
"public regulation." 17 Quiggin is reduced to a position where
Stuart Chase's statement is quoted as a kind of summary:

Neither you nor I nor anyone else knows what "money"
means or how it works. We know what it means where and
16 Loc. cit. 17 See above, 238.

MONEY AND WEALTH 243

when we use it, for here we are performing little personal
operations. But its general laws, if any, are unknown to even
the wisest banker or the profoundest economist. 18

The conclusion reached by this author, however, that "for our
present purpose the term money will be restricted to such forms
as serve the threefold function of a recognized medium of ex-
change, a standard of value and a symbol of wealth," indicates
that this student does not find the question of defining the word
as hopeless as the quotation from Chase would imply. This is
also true of the flexibility of the approach implied in a later
sentence, which states that the descriptive chapters of her work
will be concerned "with such objects as are or have been ac-
cepted by peoples before the introduction of a system of coined
currency," which fulfil the functions previously indicated. 19

Einzig, moving toward the problem of defining "primitive
money" from the side of economics rather than that of compara-
tive ethnology and the question of museum display, is also faced
with the need to differentiate between money and currency,
though this point bulks less important in his work than in that of
Quiggin. His definition takes into account various implications
of the term that have been discussed by economists, and attempts
to reconcile them with broad, cross-cultural usage. Money, he
concludes, is

... a unit or object conforming to a reasonable degree to
some standard of uniformity, which is employed for reck-
oning or for making a large proportion of the payments cus-
tomary in the community concerned, and which is accepted
for payment largely with the intention of employing it for
making payment. 20

In addition, a series of criteria is given for determining limits
between "primitive and modern money/' Thus, all "non-metallic
money with the exception of paper money and credit money" are
to be classified as "primitive," and all money of metal which is
not guaranteed as to weight and fineness by a State. Further,
paper currencies "issued in terms of primitive currencies" are to
be regarded as "primitive," and so are coins that "change hands

Chase, 197. 20 Einzig, 326.

19 Op. dt., 4.

244 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

by weight," together with cut coins. Similarly, commodity cur-
rencies are "primitive," and credit-money also, since, "if . . .
granted in terms of goods, then it is nearer to natural economy
than money economy and must be regarded as primitive." * 21

Much of the difficulty in deciding whether a given medium of
exchange and store of value is money or not, found in the dis-
cussion of both these special treatises on "primitive" money,
might have been avoided if the functional significance of the
many indicators of value given in their rich documentation was
treated more fully. Particularly is this true with reference to the
role of these indicators in prestige as over against subsistence
economies, the two categories that make up the dual economic
systems, to be considered later, of so many societies. In these
terms, "treasures" of various sorts, as will be seen, which have
been considered generally as money, and are so classified by
both Quiggin and Einzig, fall into their proper place as indices
of wealth rather than media of exchange. Money, it will be seen,
can be employed in this way to validate position in society and
accord prestige. But, again, cross-cultural reference indicates that
the importance of money as a single factor in attaining prestige
and furthering the acquisition of subsistence goods tends to be
exaggerated because of the usages of the pecuniary society to
which the students of the problem have been enculturated.

The importance of clarity in distinguishing the different func-
tions of "valuables" in assessing the nature of money will be seen
if a passage taken at random from Quiggin's works on the subject
is cited. Thus, the function of certain valuables of New Caledonia
is described as follows:

Throughout New Caledonia and the Loyalties trading is
almost all by barter, and money rarely changes hands save in
the more costly purchases such as canoes and valuable orna-
ments. Nevertheless, money is all-important in native life,
though its significance is far more ceremonial, religious or
magical than economic. It enters into all functions from birth
and marriage to death, and the accompanying rites and
ceremonies; it takes part in all feasts, all alliances and peace-
makings, it is used for the accomplishment and atonement
of crimes, and is essential in all ceremonial presentations.

21 Ibid., 329.

MONEY AND WEALTH 345

Consisting of shells, and accompanying ornaments, this type of
valuable takes on several forms. Miu bwarre, or "black money,"
is "most valued and extremely fine." It was "used more for pres-
ents for great chiefs, and for fines, than for trading, and many
natives had never even seen a string of it." On the other hand,
miu me, or "white money," was of a value that "an ell would buy
a wife, and a half a fathom a canoe." A cheaper kind of this white
money was used by whites in trading with natives, at the rate of
one franc a meter. 22 The difficulties of classification here are
obvious: the impossibility of discovering the actual role of these
different types of tokens some never seen except by a few per-
sons, and in an economic system where trading is predominantly
by barter renders judgment as to their economic function
equally difficult.

The interpretations of Einzig are similarly broad, though here
the distinction between items that represent a store of value and
those that constitute media of exchange is in most cases drawn.
This work, like that of Quiggin, thus holds primary value as
showing how varied are the objects to which men can attach
particular worth, and how different can be the means employed
to establish equivalences of desirability.

Essentially, it would seem that we are once again confronted
with a principle concerning the economic life of nonliterate
peoples with which we are already familiar, that its institutions
and mechanisms take on generalized outlines in contrast to the
specialized and sharply differentiated forms of the economic
systems of industrialized societies. That is why many field an-
thropologists, not appreciating the controversial implications of
their data for the problem of the nature of money, have shown an
unwitting wisdom in reporting the tokens of value used in any
given society as they have found them, without considering
whether or not these tokens are to be thought of as money in the
economist's sense of the word. In order to achieve a synthesis
of economic theory and ethnological fact, therefore, we shall
accept as money any kind of least common denominator of value,
whether it be of metal, shell, stone, or other material, or, indeed,
even if it itself is a consumption good, so long as it is regarded
as a part of a system of graded equivalents, and is used in pay-
ment for goods and services.

22 Op. cit., 168-70.

246 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

That such tokens will almost invariably exhibit the subsidiary
function of "a store of value" is self-evident, and as such will
in most societies be found to act as instruments in the attainment
of prestige. In these cases, where value is stored in goods not
used as least common denominators in the purchase and sale of
commodities or services, as in the case of cattle in East Africa,
or the stone "money" of Yap, these valuable commodities will
not be regarded as money. But if the use of the tokens is em-
bedded in a ceremonial setting of a sociological or a religious
nature, or other non-pecuniary forms of exchange are found in
conjunction with their employment, they will none the less be
considered as money, provided that their use in certain instances
is such as to stamp them as valid indices of value, given and ac-
cepted in exchange for commodities not so regarded.

THE USE of money, as just defined, by nonliterate peoples, is
outstanding in three parts of the world: West Africa and the
Congo, 23 Melanesia and Micronesia, and western North America.
Tokens that indicate value are not by any means unknown else-
where, as, for example, the "wampum" of the Indians of eastern
North America L> * or the fine mats used in Samoa, in terms of
which "everything was valued" and some things paid for. 25 But
the distribution of such instances is scattered, and it is often
questionable whether the term "money" is being applied in the
reports to media of exchange or depositaries of value, which, as
expressions of wealth, must be considered under a distinct head-
ing.

The cowrie shell, as has been indicated, is important in all
West Africa. Little information is available regarding the internal
economies that were based on the use of this token, for none of
the early travelers who visited West Africa were equipped to
do such a study, even had they been interested. Thus most of the
evaluations in their writings are given in terms of cowries trans-

23 For Africa as a whole, Tucci 24 Cf. S wanton (1906), and Hcw-

(73-103) classifies money into five itt.

types cowries, iron, salt, copper, 2r ' Cf . Hiroa (1930), 319; Mead

gold dust and a miscellaneous group (1930a).
of forms.

MONEY AND WEALTH 247

lated into European currency, though the fact that these sea-
shells were so readily equated to the money of Europe is in itself
a justification for regarding them as true currency. For specific
tribes in the area, a number of tables of values have been set
down, and the one from Dalzel's History of Dahomey (1793)
may be quoted as an example:

Unit Number Value Weight

j. d. Ib. oz. tenths

40 cowries

1 tockey,

or string

5 tockeys

1 galhina

200

5 galhinas

1 ackey

1,000

4 ackeys

1 cabess

4,000

4 cabess

1 ounce,

trade 16,000 40 42

Explaining the final item, the author states: "Now from this
ounce, weighing on experiment about 45 Ib. troy, or 42 Ib. avoir-
clupoise, the weights in the last column are determined." 2e That
we are dealing with actual money is apparent from the fact that
the value of the cowrie shell reacted to changes in values of re-
lated currencies in quite the manner that any currency would be
expected to react. In the case of Dahomean money, an example
of this is had in the following statement from Forbes dated 1851:

The currency of the Dahoman kingdom is the cowrie shell,
of which 2,000 are calculated to form one "head" to which a
nominal value of one dollar is attached. Such, however, is
the scarcity of metallic currency, that, in exchange, the silver
dollar is eagerly taken at 2,400 to 2,600 cowries; and other
metals, as well the lower as the higher, are freely taken in
barter.- 7

It has been seen how the cowrie, as late as 1931, was still being
used as money by the Lobi tribes. The changes in value of this
shell, concerning which data are available since 1883, is striking.
The first report, by Binger, which evaluated certain articles in
terms of cowries, quoted it at 1,000 for 2 francs. After the occupa-
tion of the country by the French the rate fell, and in the region
of Gaoua remained stable until 1918 at about 800 to the franc.

20 Dalzel, 135. 27 Forbes, I, 36.

248 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

After the armistice and during the period corresponding to
the fall of the franc, the cowry continually rose, indicating
that it was good money in native eyes, who considered
nickel tokens and local small bills as being valueless and only
to be used in paying taxes and fines.

Even at that time there was a considerable manipulation of the
market, and these induced fluctuations have persisted, despite
attempts to suppress such operations.

After silver pieces disappeared from circulation, a five-franc
note was exchanged for 600 cowries, and this remained its normal
value until the time the report being used here was written. 28
Beginning in November, however, and until February, European
money appreciated, since at this time taxes to an aggregate
of some 500,000 francs, payable only in French money, would
come due. To obtain the necessary currency, the natives turned
to the Sudanese peddlers who travel the region, and who make
a considerable profit from such transactions. The annual accre-
tion in value of the franc was gradual; from the standard quota-
tion of 600 cowries for a five-franc note in October 1931, the rate
rose to 800 in November, to 1,500 in December, and finally to
2,000 in January, dropping abruptly to the "normal" value at
the end of the month, when taxes had been collected and the
need for French money was no longer pressing. The result of this
fluctuation on prices may also be noted. The natives during this
period would charge six times as much for goods bought with
cowries as with metal tokens or paper money; it is on the in-
creased (December) value of the franc that the calculations of
the values of goods sold in Lobi markets, reproduced in the
preceding chapter, were based.

Because of this need to exchange cowries for European cur-
rency, or the reverse since from relatively early times guineas,
shillings, louis, and francs had drifted into this territory profes-
sional money-changers are a familiar part of the economic scene.
After 1914, when taxes were no longer collected in kind, a bourse
developed, especially in the markets of Dapola and Nandol, near

28 An explanatory point must be since silver has been found unsatis-

noted here. In West Africa north of factory, apparently both from the

the forested strip, European cur- point of view of the government and

rency is principally nickel or bronze, of the natives.

MONEY AND WEALTH 249

the Volta River, as well as on a less professional scale in other
centers. Here Mossi and Mandingo money-changers would sell
notes for cowries while the franc was appreciating, and with the
same shells would buy back the French currency when the
cowrie had returned to its customary value. However, the peace
enforced by European occupation seems to be accomplishing
what governmental fiat could not do. With the introduction into
the area of traders who buy produce with European money, the
natives are learning how to obtain the francs they need for taxes
without recourse to money-changers. Indeed, the use of the
cowrie itself in commercial transactions seemed to be going the
way it has gone elsewhere in West Africa. 29

A recrudescence of the use of cowrie shells in Northern Nigeria
in 1932 gives further evidence that this token is actually money.
This recrudescence, brought about by the world economic crisis
and arrested by improved economic conditions, occurred in the
large Nupe markets of Bida and Agaie, to which cowries ac-
quired in other regions were brought by traders for disposal. The
effects of this crisis were felt by native peoples wherever they
were in contact with Europeans, so that, for example, in Northern
Nigeria, the smallest coin, the anini y worth a tenth of an English
penny, was still too large a unit for petty trade in these hard
times. The rate of exchange in Ajuba (Gbari country), where the
cowries were largely acquired, was 500 to the penny, and they
were sold in Bida and Agaie at twice that amount, or 250 to the
penny, the rate of exchange obtaining when their legal use was
outlawed by the British colonial government. Many of the
cowries showed traces of having been buried in the ground since
they had been declared valueless, for this shell has never been
entirely abandoned by the natives, who have continued to use it
in making ceremonial payments. Among the Gbari, for example,
women are always on hand at funerals to sell cowries to mourners
and guests, who present them as gifts and use them to pay for
the services of grave-diggers and musicians. The effect of this is
that "cowries represent today something like a ritual currency
reserved for the symbolic payment of certain services of a cere-
monial and religious nature." The custom that decrees only
cowries to be valid in discharging obligations at funerals or

^Labouret (1931), 326-3; see also Tauxier, 423.

250 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

weddings and in paying diviners is economically important in
that it has perpetuated their use, and explains why in a time of
economic stress quantities of these shells are available.

These data from Nigeria are the more significant, since they
not only indicate how deeply an economic pattern of this sort
can lodge in a culture, but also demonstrate once again how a
definition drawn too closely makes it difficult to understand this
phenomenon where it is desirable that the economic role of a
token be regarded in economic perspective. It is maintained, for
example, that cowries are not "proper money at all; that is to say
they were never exclusively an instrument of economic transac-
tion, nor more specifically a means of exchange," but were rather
employed "for certain magical purposes, for 'medicines,' ritual
ornaments, and such like." Leaving aside the question whether
their use in providing compensation for ritual goods and services
would not to this extent justify their designation as money
here the confusion between the concepts of "money" and "cur-
rency" will be noted certain internal evidence in this brief
report seems to controvert the interpretation given the use of
these cowries:

In a small way cowries are still used in local trade, between
two villages or two compounds, but not for the main trade
of the country, agricultural products, and not on a large
scale. Buying and selling of millet, yams, or corn is only done
in real money ( "for must we not pay our taxes in money?" ) .
But if you are buying a little beer from your neighbor's
house, a little fruit, or an odd calabash of corn you may have
run short of, you pay in cowries instead of the "anini" or
two this would cost. The women, the traders par excellence
of the country, thus collect the scattered hoards of cowries
in their hands, keeping them for the occasion when a supply
of "ritual currency" will be needed. 30

WE MUST conclude, then, that in West Africa the cowrie is
money. Yet a point arises in this connection that has consider-
ably troubled those concerned with the nature of money in
30 Naclel (1937), 489-91.

MONEY AND WEALTH 251

nonliterate societies. Here the generalized character of economic
institutions not only causes the concept of a legal and exclusive
currency to be unknown, but also directs the use of such tokens
of value toward the payment of ritual goods and services or
toward the establishment of prestige in a manner which effec-
tively masks the economic significance of the process. This
problem is clarified if we consider certain data gathered in the
study of the numerous kinds of tokens of value that circulated
in aboriginal California and other regions of western United
States.

If the Yurok be taken as a first instance, it is seen that here,
as among other northwestern California tribes, the accumulation
of wealth is a passion, and payments are exacted in every con-
ceivable type of social situation. Native Yurok media of exchange
are principally dentalium shells, though subsidiary tokens of
value may also be employed woodpecker scalps, obsidian
blades, and certain ritual objects, which are essentially deposi-
taries of value to be equated with our jewels rather than with our
currency. Dentalium, though, is recognized by the Indians as
money; the native term translated as "human beings their den-
talium" is employed in the sense of "Indian money," and the
shells are readily equated with American coins.

The value of a shell depends on its length, and hence dentalia
are graded with care. Whatever their size, they are strung on
cords that reach from "the end of an average man's thumb to the
point of his shoulder," and all effort is made to have only shells
of uniform size on a string. The names and sizes of these shells,
and their number per string, are as follows:

Length of shell Yurok Yurok Shells

in inches name of shell name of string to strings

2 ! 2 Kergcrpitl Kohtepsis 11

2 R i6 Tego'o Na'apes 12

2?g Wega Nahkscpitl 13

2 Hcwiycm Ta'ancpitl 14

1J2 Merostan Tsepupitl 15

As might be expected, the largest dentalia are scarcest, and the
price of a string appreciates in proportion to the increase in size
of the individual units. The following table of values in American
dollars, based on the prices that prevailed in the early days of
white contact, shows this:

25*

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Shells to string Value of shell

11 $5.00

12 2.00

13 1.00

14 .50

15 .25

Value of string

$50.00

20.00

10.00

5.00

2.50

The values of these shells, about 1920, were roughly one-half of
those given; yet the principle of earlier times, that "an increase
in length of shell sufficient to reduce by one the number of pieces
required to fill a standard string about doubled its value," con-
tinued to be operative.

Some of the valuations of goods in terms of dentalium strings
can be given; presumably they would be sold for the amounts
indicated, though this is not explicitly stated, and it will be noted
how substitute evaluations in terms of other goods are also given.
The values are estimated on the basis of a twelve-shell string
being worth ten American dollars.

Commodity
1 large boat

1 small boat

1 very small boat

1 small boat

1 eagle skin

1 woman's capful of to-
bacco

1 house

1 well-conditioned house
of redwood planks

A tract bearing acorns

Meat from a "small" sec-
tion of a whale

A "black," "red," or mot-
tled deerskin, dressed
for dance use

A light gray skin

A white skin

Obsidian or flint blades

1 slave

Value

2 12-shell strings, 1 full and 1 short, or 10
large or 60 small woodpecker skins

1 13-shcll string or 3 large woodpecker heads

5 shells from a 13-shell string

A blanket of 2 deerskins se\vn together and

painted; or a quiver of otter and fisher fur,

with bow and 40 arrows
1 shell of smallest size

1 small shell

3 strings

5 strings

1 to 5 strings

1 string, presumably of small shells

5 strings

6 strings
10 strings

2 to 10 strings
1 to 2 strings

For the services of a doctor, the charge was one to two strings of
"good money"; dentalium shells were also used to meet marriage

MONEY AND WEALTH 253

payments for a wife from a wealthy family ten strings of vary-
ing lengths were given while they were similarly used to dis-
charge what might be termed fines: 11

Various kinds of money-tokens were found among other Cali-
fornia tribes the Shasta, Wintun, Yuki, and others used den-
talium, while farther south clam-shell disks were current among
the Miwok, Yokuts, and Chumash. Yet, with the exception of the
Yurok, it is no easy task to reach a conclusion how these tokens
functioned as money under the usage given this term here; while
even in the case of the Yurok the attention of students has been
so fixed on the valuables themselves that whatever role dentalia
may have played as a medium of exchange in everyday use ap-
pears in the literature only as a kind of after-thought. It seems
not unlikely that what is found here is a type of money that,
while operating to some extent in the acquisition of capital and
consumption goods, is oriented principally toward the purchase
of services and prestige. As has been indicated, this would not
make these tokens any the less money, inasmuch as in the case
of dentalium, at least, what is used as an index of value is not a
consumption good, but is part of a system of graded equivalents
used to pay for services and to acquire prestige. This point is
clarified by reference to an analysis of the pecuniary mechanisms
employed by the Tolowa-Tututni.

These northern California peoples used the dentalium shell
and other "treasures" as indices of value much like the Yurok.
As among other tribes of the region, though great emphasis was
laid on wealth, subsistence was cared for by a generous supply
of natural resources, so that the use of money to acquire sub-
sistence goods was at a minimum. How, then, were these tokens
employed? "Money was serviceable in the purchase of social
protection and prestige, in sex, and in maintaining familial status,
but it entered hardly at all into the subsistence equation." To
phrase it differently, Tolowa-Tututni money was a "device for
dealing in a limited set of social recognitions."

These tribes, therefore, did not translate the value of a basket
or a given quantity of dried salmon into dentalium shells and
then do their trading in terms of dentalia equivalents, for where
subsistence products were involved, trade was entirely on the
level of barter. Only where the acquisition of prestige was a

31 Kroebcr, 23-8.

254 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

factor the payments of a rich man to compensate for wrongs
committed by members of his village, or payments made to the
family of a bride, or upon the death of a child, or for insults, or
for the services of a shaman was this currency called upon.
The matter has been expressed in diagrammatic form comparing
the role of money in obtaining subsistence and prestige in our
own society and in this one. The equation to be drawn for Euro-
american culture is: subsistence =>moneyprestige. For the
Tolowa-Tututni it is: subsistence (money ^prestige). That this
approach elucidates much that has hitherto been obscure in the
treatment, not alone of the use of these tokens, but of comparable
materials elsewhere, again demonstrates the importance of not
drawing lines too rigidly in defining the concept of "money ." J ~

MELANESIA, with a bewildering variety of tokens of value, 33 offers
another example of how flexibility in approach simplifies the
problem of whether or not, in any given situation, we are dealing
with money. Let us take a typical statement:

The natives manufacture a form of currency (amfat) from
large clam shells. These amfat, although made in the fashion
of bracelets, are never so worn, being kept solely for ex-
change purposes. An amfat is a measure of values, but only
of certain goods and services; it is also a medium of ex-
change, but only in respect of certain items. One must be
wary, therefore, of calling it "money." 34

It is somewhat difficult, even from this brief summary of the
nature of these valuables and the uses to which they are put
made as bracelets but never worn, used solely for exchange and
as a measure of value to see how they can be considered as

32 DuBois, 50-3. To this dual clas- unavailable to them. Attention

sification of subsistence and money should also be called to the classifi-

economies, Bascom (1948) has added cation of "business" economy used

the concept of the "commercial" by Codere ( 13-23) in her discussion

economy where a cash crop is grown of Kwakiutl economics,

for sale in a world market to enable 33 Lewis; Codrington, 323-8.

natives to obtain goods otherwise 34 Bell, 308.

MONEY AND WEALTH 255

anything but money. Yet, apparently, one must be wary of call-
ing these amfat by this term, though the word "currency," which
in its technical sense is obviously not at all 'applicable in this
instance, is used to name it.

That a less restricted point of view is decidedly in the interest
of clarity is evident from the analysis of the Melanesian data by
Tueting, who approaches the material from a point of view
somewhat analogous to that advanced here:

Trade, barter or ceremonial exchange, may be effected by
"valuables" . . . objects which serve as the instrument by
means of which value can be accumulated . . . which serve
as a measure of value but measure the value of specific ob-
jects only, as greenstone adzes which pay for canoes in
Panniet ... or ... which fulfill wholly or in part any of
the other functions of money. 35

That is to say, these ceremonial emblems of value, in so far as
they aid in the economic evaluation of either goods or services
or both, must concern us as money, whatever other role they
may play in ritual and gift exchange carried on for non-economic
ends by means of non-economic institutions.

A revealing suggestion why such great difficulty obtains in
determining what constitutes money in Melanesia appears in a
discussion of the use of shells and dogs' teeth in the Admiralty
Islands. These tokens have "all the requirements of a good money
base." They are rare, the supply can be increased only with or-
dinary expenditure of labor, they are small and hence portable,
and they are "extremely divisible a respectable enough list of
orthodox requirements to please any economist." Dogs' teeth are
the basic standard of value, and "the value of every object sold
or exchanged in the Admiralty Islands can be expressed in terms
of dogs' teeth or shell money." Ten taro are valued at one large
dog's tooth; and so are ten coconuts, or forty betel nuts, or one
bundle of bark fiber. "The idea of a common medium of exchange
is perfectly clear to the native mind," and the natives possess the
linguistic symbols for calculating their commercial transactions
in terms of their monetary units. The same reaction to manipula-
tion of the money market is shown by dogs' teeth as by our own
currency or the cowries of West Africa. When early traders, for

80 Tueting, 36-7.

256 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

example, imported large quantities of these teeth from China
and Turkey, immediate inflation followed, with a consequent
rise in prices, so that "a pot formerly worth one dog's tooth now
sold for ten." Once this importation was checked by decree of the
administering authority, dogs' teeth settled back into financial
equilibrium.

Are dogs* teeth and shells, then, money? Under definitions
that insist that a given medium shall be a universal and sole
instrument in determining value and effectuating exchange, they
clearly cannot be so considered, inasmuch as such tokens are not
used "as much as a quarter of the time." Indeed, the situation
is comparable to that of the Lobi of West Africa, who, as will be
remembered, despite their preponderant use of cowries, also
actively engage in barter. And so in the Admiralty Islands, too,
"barter, the method of exchange which is considered so much
clumsier, so much cruder and more primitive, is constantly re-
sorted to out of preference." The reason for a restricted employ-
ment of these tokens whose use, it may be pointed out, is
mandatory in ritual exchanges is to be found in the general
patterns of production which hold not alone for this region, but
"all over the archipelago" and throughout Melanesia. As in al-
most every other nonliterate society, "no one is dependent upon
money for existence," and only in that class of needs that are
secondary and do not involve subsistence requirements can the
risk be assumed of trusting to "money" to provide them.

The special case of a widower who lived with his sister and
turned over to her, as a return for his maintenance, some of the
dogs' teeth paid him for his services as magician, is instructive.
The sister could use these teeth as marriage payments of a
nephew, who meanwhile would provide her with fish which she
could use in part to feed herself and her brother, and barter
what remained for taro. But she "could not have taken the dogs'
teeth to market and bought taro with them except in most unusual
conditions." For she would have had to compete with those who
had fish to barter, and no matter how keenly the man from the
interior might desire the dogs' teeth she offered, his children
could not eat them. He might give his taro for them, hoping that
he could use them to buy fish at an advantage, but in the main
those who brought fish would not part with them except for taro
or sago or betel nuts or bark fiber. "So dogs' teeth and shell

MONEY AND WEALTH 257

money often go begging in the market," and only the rich man
who controls the labor of many young people can afford to take
advantage of opportunities to acquire the money, "which the
unsuccessful fisherman or bad gardener brings to market."

Clearly we are here again confronted with a dual economy
with barter where the necessities of life are involved, and a
pecuniary orientation in matters involving the discharge of cere-
monial obligations, the purchase of prestige, and the associated
drive to acquire wealth. Here, where "every one is close to the
subsistence level for food," it is understandable that "food is
bartered against food," especially when to obtain a particular
kind of food it is necessary to go to a particular community
whose members are as hungry for one's special product as one
is for theirs. Yet the elaborate system of indicating values, it
must again be recalled, does figure in purely commercial trans-
actions involving the purchase of non-edible goods such as bowls,
lime gourds and spatulas, bags, mats, thatch, spears, fish-nets
and the like, as well as in ceremonial exchanges. To refuse to
recognize these tokens of value as money, therefore, would
merely indicate a greater attachment to a definition than to the
realities of the economic system in which they function. 36

The instances of the use of spondylus shells and giant clam-
shell disks on Rossel Island, respectively termed ndap and nko,
have been cited so frequently and accorded such wide recogni-
tion as money, even in the restricted sense of the term, that it is
not necessary here to enter into any extended exposition of their
use. The intricacy of this system, in which tokens of varying size
have varying values, and the complexity of computing interest
on the loans in which they figure have taken the imagination of
students of comparative economic institutions from the time the
data were first published. Briefly summarized, these tokens are
employed "primarily as media of exchange and standards of
value"; they are "systematically interrelated as regards value";
and "any commodity or service may be more or less directly
priced in terms of them." That they play a most prominent part
in ritual exchange does not lessen their right to be considered
pecuniary instruments. If there is a suggestion in the phrase
which states that commodities "may be more or less directly
priced in terms" of this money, and that barter, which is entirely

80 Moad (1930b), 121-30.

258 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

unmentioned in the work from which our data are derived does
exist together with this money as a means of effectuating ex-
changes, this assuredly does not diminish the applicability of
the term "money" to the ndap and nko that symbolize value for
the Rossel Islanders. 37

From this point, where money exists as conventionally defined,
Melanesian economic systems can be graded as to their modes
of exchange through all degrees of applicability of a rigid defini-
tion of the term until non-pecuniary folk are reached, where the
circulation of goods is effected only through barter, and valuables
are only used for display, rarely figuring in effectuating the cir-
culation of economic goods. Thus the tokens of value used in
New Ireland are employed almost as much in the payment of
goods and services as on Rossel Island; the "money" of the
Solomon and Admiralty groups is removed from purely economic
concerns; while among such folk as the New Caledonians, what
is called "money" consists merely of valuables exchanged to
regulate certain social situations and as equivalents for precious
objects such as jade axes, "all other goods being obtained by
barter." 38

ANOTHER example of a dual economy is available from the Palau
Islands, the westernmost group of the Carolines in the South
Pacific. Here the tokens of value are essentially instruments for
the maintenance of position and prestige; yet at the same time
they function in this area of experience as money. The place of
this system of tokens in the total culture has been summarized
in the following passage:

Money is, or was, involved in such institutions and social
phenomena as marriage, divorce, death rites, birth rites,
politics, war, status and prestige, reciprocal relations and
religion. That the people themselves regard money as of
paramount importance is shown by the fact that its acquisi-
tion is a major goal, that money and recent transactions in-

37 Armstrong, 59 if. 26 ff.; Blackwood (1935), 446-9;

88 Powdennaker, 200 ff.; Thurn- Leenhardt, 127.
wald (1934-5), 134-9; (1937),

MONEY AND WEALTH 259

volving it is a primary topic of conversation among the men,
by the fondling care with which it is handled and stored in
the sacred section of the house, and by the high regard
accorded the money expert. 39

The fact, however, that this money functions only in one
aspect of a dual economy is made clear by the following explicit
statement:

Palau economy had no actual need for a money system. It
was an artificial and superficial system from the standpoint
of actual need, for Palau was a subsistence economy and
the rich resources of the islands provided plentiful materials
and foodstuffs and obviated the need for trade. The mone-
tary system was specifically geared for social uses and pene-
trated nearly every phase of the social system. In fact, money
was so closely integrated with the social system that it is
hard to imagine the social system at a period when money
was not used. 10

The tokens themselves were all imported, and consisted of
"polychrome and clear glass beads, and crescentic bar gorgets
and beads of pottery." They had, apparently, been traded through
many hands, some of the polychrome beads appearing to be
from India or elsewhere on the Asiatic mainland. The various
categories arc classified into nine basic kinds, called "families"
by Ritzenthaler, according to the nature of the materials of
which they are made, their color, and their shape. Each "family"
contains a number of different types, into which the individual
pieces are grouped. In the case of the more valuable pieces "the
individual histories . . . are known to certain of the money
experts, who can relate the origin and subsequent transactions
along with the names of the persons through whose hands the
piece was passed down to the present time." That these experts
in money have extensive and specialized knowledge is apparent
from the fact that the most competent of them was able to give
the names and numbers of almost 3,000 pieces falling into 282
types and belonging to the various "families." It is indicative of
the place that this money holds in the patterns of thought of the
Palauans that information of this scope can be obtained despite
the fact that "not all these types, or even all families, are in

30 Ritzenthaler ( 1949 ). * Ibid., 1.

260 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

circulation at the present time," though "money which has gone
out of circulation" because of the circumstance of foreign con-
trol "is kept rather than . . . discarded by the owner." ll

The factor of scarcity in maintaining the value of the money-
token enters here as elsewhere. For many years, none of this
imported money has been coming in. Unlike the case where
dogs' teeth brought into the Admiralties caused inflation, the
experiment of the ethnographer of offering Venetian polychrome
glass beads as a substitute for one class of native money met
with complete indifference on the part of the chief to whom
these beads were presented. They would be accepted as a gift,
it was stated, but they would never pass for money. On the
other hand, though inevitable breakage reduces the total amount
of money available, the values of the remaining pieces have not
changed. This, however, would seem to be the result of contact
with the Germans and the Japanese during the long period of
their occupations, and with Americans during the Second World
War and since. "The increasing desirability of foreign money
tended to lessen somewhat the demand for native money," it is
reported. "The reduction in number of pieces, plus the impact
of foreign money, has resulted in the decline in fluidity of native
money from pre-contact to modern times." 42

Yet this problem of value, though in Palau related to scarcity
in the supply of money, is by no means here to be resolved by
reference to this single factor. Again, the matter of prestige
enters :

The value of baal money [the most valuable type] as of all
Palau money, is based on quality, size and history. Such
money was traditionally owned by only upper rank families,
and was never used in ordinary economic transactions. In
former times the important use of it was for war reparations,
but it was also used in important social customs such as the
payment to the wife's family upon the death of the wife. . . .
At the present time such money functions as prestige money
symbolic of rank and power. Every effort is made to keep it
within the family, and considerable intrigue goes on in the
attempt by a family to acquire important pieces of money
largely through the agency of judicious marriages.

41 Ibid., 6-7. 42 Ibid., 7-8.

MONEY AND WEALTH 261

The bead money, unlike the baal, is used in everyday trans-
actions, the standard value for all money being the opaque poly-
chrome glass bead called kluk. The "theoretical worth" of the
best pieces of kluk is 100 swalo of taro, a swalo being a coconut-
leaf basket holding about ten pounds. But "whenever the kluk
is valued in terms of foreign money it is at 100 to 1. Thus in
German times a kluk was worth 100 marks, in Japanese times
100 yen, and at the present ( 1948 ) has an unofficial, but oper-
ating value of 100 dollars." Within the system, values as between
types are not fixed, but overlap in accordance with the quality of
a given piece and its history. This, for instance, is seen in the
increase in value of a piece that has been used in an important
economic transaction. It is because of this fact and of the fact
that is is considered good practice to "fool the other person if
you can," that a group of money experts has emerged. For
where pieces may be misrepresented to the unwary not only as
to their value but as to their class, and where money is so im-
portant, it is not difficult to see how significant is the role of these
experts, and why they are called "wise men."

Money can be earned or acquired through the various rites
that mark birth, marriage, divorce, and death. Money was also
counterfeited, but the penalty for this was death in earlier times;
since the period of Spanish occupation "a counterfeiter was
forced to forfeit the largest pieces of money in his possession,
and if he had no large valuable piece he forfeited all his small
pieces." Money in earlier times was loaned at interest, the rate
being about 50 per cent; the penalty for losing or spending a
piece held as security was serious, since all the property of a
lender who did this was destroyed by his fellow-villagers, and
his taro-patch confiscated. Money is earned by making such
items as canoes, and wooden bowls, and building houses. Pres-
tige is lost if, for example, one were to build his own house or
construct his own canoe. Money, when obtained in this way,
is individually owned, but one Palauan estimated that three-
fourths of the money extant is owned by families, while Useem
is reported as indicating that only about one family in four
possesses any money at all. 43

It is impossible hero to do more than list the situations in
which money enters in the life of the Palauans. It figures in the

4S Ibid., 13-16; rcf. to Useem, 16.

262 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

rites of birth, and naming; it is paid for tattooing; it enters into
concubinage arrangements, and is basic in marriage-payments
and the exchanges between families that follow a marriage and
endure as long as the couple live together. It is used for adultery
payments, to obtain the return of an angered wife, and in divorce.
It is basic in all aspects of social mobility, since only by expendi-
ture can an individual achieve higher rank, or succeed to a chiefly
position. It makes possible the building of a communal men's
house; it is given as a gift in inter-village dancing competitions; it
is used for fines. Fees for divination and some offerings to the gods
take the form of money. Finally, as has been indicated, it was the
indemnity paid by a district defeated in war or could be used to
assure the aid of an ally in attack or defense. 44

The importance of this money in the life of the people is so
great that "the acquisition of money" becomes "the primary goal
of the individual." That it is kept in the sacred portion of the
house underscores this fact. It has maintained itself in the face
of contact with four currency-using cultures, during the sixty-
five years of foreign control that began with the Spanish regime
in 1885. This is the best indication that this complex is a mone-
tary system, in all senses of the term. At the same time, its place
in the culture and its actual uses indicate once more the advan-
tages in analysis that derives from differentiating the prestige
from the subsistence economy. This obtains no less here, where
the two are marked off by the use of differing expressions of
value, than in those economies where both are channeled through
a common medium of exchange. 45

IT HAS long been a truism of economics that the concepts of
wealth and money are only related in so far as money can be
used as an index of those values which at a given time are as-
cribed to the various kinds of goods held in a society. Wealth, as
Carver showed early in the century, can only consist of scarce
goods, since things "that are so abundant that no one needs to

44 Ibid., 17-28. Palauan money, as is indicated by

45 Barnett (1949, esp. Chs. Ill his statement (49) that "Palauan

and IV) is in essential agreement money is more like our jewels than

with Ritzenthaler's discussion- of it is like our money."

MONEY AND WEALTH 263

give himself any concern about getting them . . . have no value
and are not classified as wealth." Such things are non-economic
goods goods which can be used without economizing. Wealth,
therefore, consists entirely of goods that are not free, and thus
have economic value for their possessors. Any measure of this
value is thus a measure of wealth. But, just as it is "a mistake to
assume coal is weight or that lumber is bulk," so wealth and its
measure in our society, money, are by no means the same. 46

Granted the distinction between money and wealth in eco-
nomic treatises, the evaluations of our culture in terms of pecu-
niary considerations has nonetheless brought about an under-
standable confusion of the two concepts in the usage of laymen.
This makes it pertinent to raise the question whether, in non-
literate societies, one finds those unequal concentrations of values
in the possession of some and not other members of a given com-
munity which constitute the essence of the popular meaning of
the term "wealth" as applied in the phrase "a wealthy man";
and whether such concentrations are found irrespective of the
presence of money as an index of the values involved. In what-
ever terms wealth is conceived, the economists cannot be held
entirely blameless that money and wealth, or the terms "wealth"
and "wealthy," are not differentiated more effectively by those
who, like some anthropologists, are not trained to handle the
concepts of economic science. For it is apparent that the exist-
ence of money permits a mobilization of resources which more
effectively furthers the accumulation of valuable goods by an
individual than where wealth is only measurable in produce or
cattle or some other commodity. It also follows that where values
can be expressed in terms of money, wealth can be manipulated
with greater ease to attain desired social, political, or other ends
than where it is absent.

It will be recalled that one of the primary functions of money
is to act as "a depositary of value." But this does not mean that
it is necessarily the only depositary of value, even where the use
of money is most highly developed. Precious stones are no less
precious because we have currency which can represent their
preciousness with equal efficacy. This was roughly paralleled by
the "copper" of the Indians of northwestern North America, the
equivalent among them of a valuable jewel, valued in terms of

40 Carter, 101-04, 119-20.

264 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

blankets just as the jewel is thought of in terms of dollars, or
guineas, or francs. A similar case is that of the so-called "stone
money" of Yap, those great cartwheels which, even though under
the sea, continue to symbolize value. Yet in Yap the functioning
tokens of exchange are tridacna shells, used where large amounts
are involved, or, in more humble transactions, mother-of-pearl. 47

Actually, in all societies possessing goods which are "valu-
ables," whether these have an auxiliary function of money or not,
their possession constitutes the equivalent of wealth. Let us
consider at this point how wealth is manifested in societies where
money is not found, or where tokens used in effectuating the
exchange of goods are subsidiary to other objects deemed of
highest worth. In Polynesia, though money was not found to any
significant extent, the concept of wealth was highly developed.
In Mangaia, for example, adzes were prized "not only as neces-
sary tools but as material property and wealth." They could be
used to ensure life and safety in the event of conquest, when
they would be given to a powerful chief in return for his pro-
tection. An adze-maker could create wealth "by making sets of
adzes and hiding them for future use and trade." On the same
island the owner of a set of fishing nets was a man of wealth,
especially if he owned one of the wide, finely meshed type. 4H
The Tongan concept of wealth was equally clear: this consisted
of mats, tapa cloth, and other manufactured articles, which at
the death of the owner had to be divided according to carefully
drawn rules. 49 On the island of Ontong Java coconuts, timber,
pandanus palms, and a few other fruit trees gave value to the
land, and those who possessed large stores of these products
were persons of wealth. 50 And in Samoa, whether or not the fine
mat is to be regarded as currency, there is no question but that
the possession of many of these fine mats, accompanied by the
ownership of fiber mats and bark cloth in quantity, was the
recognized mark of a man of wealth. 51

In East Africa, where currency in any form is absent, cattle
constitute an almost exclusive hall-mark of wealth. The sub-
sistence economy of these tribes is based on agriculture; but
the number of cattle owned by a man correlates highly with his

47 Muller, 126-33; Senfft, 151. BO IIogbin (1934), 130-2.

48 Hiroa (1934), 133, 145. B1 Hiroa (1930), 80-1; Mead

49 Gifford (1929), 181. (1930a), 73-4.

MONEY AND WEALTH 265

position. That is, among these peoples, as in most societies, posi-
tion is related to wealth, and cattle are the sole expression of
wealth. It is of no consequence how much cultivated land or
other goods a man possesses, for should he not have adequate
resources in cattle, he can have no place of respect in his society.
As among the Gusii: "Young men as well as old acquire cattle
greedily and part with them reluctantly, and the size of a man's
herd is ... one of the best indices to his social standing. 52

Notwithstanding this, cattle can in no sense be considered
money; for nothing can be acquired with them except wives,
and a long time has elapsed since competent students have held
to the earlier naive concept that the giving of cattle by the family
of the suitor to a family of his bride constitutes an act of wife-
purchase. A cow is eaten only on certain ceremonial occasions,
or when an animal dies; nor have cattle any other subsistence
utility aside from that of supplying milk, since they are never
employed as beasts of burden. They are merely possessed and
esteemed for the prestige their possession brings. But they are
not money. M

A few instances of what comprises wealth in one or two North
American non-pecuniary societies may also be given. In all the
Plains area, after the introduction of the horse, these animals
furnished almost the only index of wealth. This has been clearly
shown for the marginal Flathead; among the Crow and other
Plains tribes the act of highest valor, and consequently that
which brought the greatest prestige, was that of the warrior who,
unaided, cut a horse from the enemy's picket-line. Among the
tribes of the Upper Missouri, "a man's wealth is estimated by
the number of these animals he owns." r ' 4 The Klamath of Oregon,
in another area, counted many kinds of goods in the category
of wealth: slaves, horses, beads of various types, food, bows and
arrows, furs, hides, especially of elk, Plains type garments, armor,
large houses, buffalo hides, canoes "In a word, articles of value
in foreign commerce, articles of dress and adornment, of war,
ritual and sustenance/' Descriptions of wealthy men include
that of a war leader owning five quivers, going into battle with
one under each arm and one on his back, with extra bowstrings;
while elsewhere such a one is designated as a man possessing

62 Mayer, 1. M Turney-IIigh, 105; Denig,

M Hcrskovits (1926), passim. 474-5.

266 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

fur blankets, coyote and wolf pelts. 55 Turning to an American
society known for its pecuniary orientation, we find that besides
the copper plates that were the most valuable goods of the
Northwest Coast Indians, they counted elk-skins, marten gar-
ments, sea-otter garments, canoes, raccoon-skins, and spoons
made of elk and antler horn as marks of wealth. This is reflected
in the folk-tales of the Tsimshian, where in one account we sec
how an outstanding hunter or fisherman, by amassing goods
needed by others, could become a wealthy man. 50

For final examples of non-pecuniary wealth, we may turn once
again to Melanesia, where, on Malekula, a wealthy person is de-
scribed as one "who possesses many boars with finely curved
tusks and one or many houses filled with yams." Of these cate-
gories, it is essentially to the acquisition and care of pigs that a
man gives his attention. It is not, however, the number of his pigs
but their quality that is of moment, especially as this relates to
the more prized growth of the tusks of boars. In Seniang, 23
names for grades of these tuskers have been recorded; in Lam-
bumbu, 11 grades.

Though it is not possible here to detail the manner in which the
growth of a borrowed pig affects the return on the loan, it is
instructive to reproduce the diagram showing how these tusked
animals become increasingly important as depositaries of value
with the development of their tusks as these describe a complete
circle and begin a second curve: In Figure 2, if we take 3 as the
unit of value for the smallest size pig, the first four grades in-
crease by 1 point each. The fifth grade, where the tusk is seen
projecting through the flesh, increases by 2 points, the seventh is
4 points higher, the ninth is 12 points higher than the seventh,
while the eleventh is 24 points higher than the ninth. 57 Of similar
importance in the determination of wealth is the part played by
the "valuables" of the Kula ring. They constitute an instance that
is especially striking, however, since, though they arc not money,
as the term is conventionally used, their exchange for each other
is an invariable concomitant of the barter that goes on along with
the ritual of their passing. Moreover, their importance for the
point being considered here is that while one who does not pos-
sess these 'Valuables" cannot be accounted wealthy, no man may

65 Spier, 42-3. 67 Deacon, 196.

56 Boas (1916), 435-6; 225 ff.

MONEY AND WEALTH 267

retain the "valuables" he has at a given time, but must trade them
along their well-regulated path. 58

It is apparent, then, that while the concepts of money and
wealth are closely related, money is in no way indispensable to
the existence of wealth, or to the existence of socio-economic

12
11
10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1
O

to n

Growth ofPy

Growth of Tusk,

2. Value of Pigs and Tusks on Malekula (adapted from Dea-
con: Increase of Values of Pigs with Growth of Tusks, p.
196].

68 Malinowski (1922), 81-3.

268 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

status as comprehended in the concept of a wealthy man. But to
indicate the nature of money in nonliterate societies, the place
of wealth, and the relationship between the two only opens the
door to further questions concerning the disposal of the wealth of
a community as it is represented in what is produced. Many of
these questions will be considered when the forms and functions
of property in native societies are discussed, and when the role
of wealth in channeling the distribution of the economic surplus
is analyzed. At the moment, however, we may turn to an exami-
nation of how the goods on hand at any given time, once their
distribution has been accomplished, are utilized. That is, the
patterns of consumption, and the processes by which effort is
transmuted into capital goods of various sorts, will next be con-
sidered.

CHAPTER XII

CONSUMPTION NORMS

AND STANDARDS

OF LIVING

THE CONSUMER has received relatively little attention from econo-
mists, whose interests have from the earliest times of their dis-
cipline been so focused on the production, distribution, and
exchange of goods that this phase of the economic cycle has
tended to have only passing recognition. 1 It is not strange, there-
fore, that the economics of consumption in nonliterate societies
is a subject to which anthropologists have turned only relatively
lately. This, however, has not only been caused by the absence
of a lead from the economists; it has developed out of the nature
of the data.

A major factor that has rendered difficult the study of con-
sumption in nonliterate societies has been the absence of a pe-
cuniary standard of value, whereby the worth of resources as-
signed to various ends can be calculated and the resultant planes
of living of a people effectively described. Hogbin indicates some
of these methodological problems in his "attempt to calculate
the exact quantity of food the household consumed, how much
was given away or wasted, and how much received" among the
Wogeo of the Schouten Islands, north of New Guinea.

It was sufficiently difficult to find out the number of taro and
bananas put into the vegetable stew which provides the basis
of the evening meal on four days out of seven, for I was fre-
1 CS. Hpyt (1938), 3-71.

269

270 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

quently away from the village while it was being prepared;
but by comparison this was an easy task when I attempted
to record the exact number of persons who were given a
share and how much they ate; moreover, I was never certain
whether the members of the household had had a snack else-
where.

On the other side of the ledger, it is to be noted that the figures
Hogbin did obtain give a picture which, for all its deficiencies,
is an improvement over the completely unqualified guesses
often encountered in the literature. For a household of three, one
member of which was an infant, and where two and a half taro
are estimated as weighing one pound, and the same weight is
assigned six bananas, the following figures are given:

Cooked daily: 18 Ibs. taro and 3% Ibs. bananas
Given away or wasted daily: S 1 /-* Ibs. taro and 1 Ib. bananas
Eaten outside the house daily: 1 Ib. taro and l / 4 Ib. bananas
Total amount eaten by household daily: 13 % Ibs. taro and 2%

Ibs. bananas
Daily diet of one person: 4 Ibs. 8 oz. taro and 12 oz. bananas.

This, however, excludes bananas eaten raw and other fruit
used in season; nor does it consider the fact that during the
month of June breadfruit replaces taro, nor take into account the
nuts, coconut flesh, and occasional bit of wild pig consumed
when available. The estimate for consumption of the two staples
given above may be compared with the following record, which
covers a period of six months ( 183 days ) :

Produced 7,000 taro and 4,200 bananas

Received as gifts 1,000 taro and 750 bananas

Gave away or wasted 3,000 taro and 2,300 bananas

Ate 5,000 taro and 2,600 bananas

This gives a daily diet for one person of 3 Ibs. 10 ozs. taro and
12 ozs. bananas, the difference "to be accounted for, in part at
least, by the fact that in the latter instance no account has been
taken of the substitution of breadfruit for taro during June/'

On Wogeo, unlike in other parts of the world, "the agricul-
tural year . . . has no well-marked rhythm," so that we find no
set times of feasting and famine such as obtain elsewhere. Yet

CONSUMPTION NORMS 271

the problems of consumption are present, in allocation of time
and energy in the production and utilization of staples and deli-
cacies, as well as in the discharge of those obligations which a
man or woman must fulfil as members of the society. The basic
factors of any system of consumption are thus present, though in
generalized form, and can be estimated without utilizing those
mechanisms of evaluation that give precision to description in
pecuniary societies. 2

IF WE turn to the traditions which determine the consumption of
goods in non-industrial cultures, we are confronted at the outset
with a fact that, like others already adduced, contravenes con-
ventional preconceptions of how "primitive" man lives. It will be
remembered that in discussing the manner of getting a living,
the closeness of these folk to their natural environment was
emphasized. At the same time, it was pointed out that although
the existence of a simple technology makes the problem of sur-
vival acute, there is still no human group that exploits to the
fullest its environment, even within the competence of its techno-
logical equipment.

Food, the most fundamental necessity of life, offers the most
striking case in point. For what is more logical than to expect
that resources would be exploited to the utmost to meet this most
vital of all needs? Yet this is not the case; and data from many
societies demonstrate that the reasons for this are most often to
be found in aspects of culture that lie entirely outside the eco-
nomic sphere. For the consumption even of this elementary
necessity is found to be influenced, if not actually determined,
by all manner of traditions of what is and what is not suitable for
human nourishment. Taboos ranging from individual prohibi-
tions to proscriptions of a totemic order, and quite irrational
ideas holding that certain consumable products should not be
eaten irrational, that is, from the point of view of the assump-
tions underlying native reasoning are found among all peoples.

So strong, indeed, are the convictions regarding the fitness of
certain foodstuffs for human consumption that the violation of

2 Hogbin (1938-9), 289-91, 131, and passim.

2*72 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

accepted patterns arouses the strongest emotions. Mention to a
layman in our society of some of the foods we taboo, that are
consumed by other peoples, such as ant larvae or roasted beetles,
"high" meat or the contents of the digestive tract of an animal
that has been killed, is enough to bring on a strong negative re-
action. Yet when rationally considered, from the point of view of
the food values of these delicacies which is what they usually
are considered by those who consume them they do not greatly
differ from certain delicacies of our own that would be and, in
some instances, have actually been found distasteful to those out-
side our own culture. Thus it is well known that to the Chinese
milk is something emphatically not to be drunk as meat to the
Hindu of India is something not to be eaten. A proposal among
ourselves to substitute the meat of a horse for that of a cow, or of
a puppy for that of a lamb, would scarcely be entertained.

This same reaction is found among other peoples. An example
may be taken from the customs of the Siriono of Eastern Bolivia,
who so literally live on the subsistence level, that the two most
frequent expressions heard among them are "my stomach is very
empty" and "give me something." 3 These people do not eat
snakes, because they believe that the meat is poisonous, even in
the case of non-poisonous serpents. Holmberg recounts how
having killed one of these, he fried a large steak of snake-meat in
front of the Indians, offering some to them after demonstrating
by eating it that it had no ill effects. Not only was it refused, but
when later the chief learned that he had eaten some muffins
Holmberg had fried in snake-fat, "he immediately jumped out
of the hammock, put his finger down his throat, and threw up
every bit of the muffin he had eaten." 4

A comparable selectivity is found in clothing. One need con-
sider the differences not alone in style but in the materials that
often differentiate the clothing of the two sexes in a given so-
ciety to recognize how arbitrary are the selections made from the
available supply of goods. On a larger scale, entire peoples fol-
low their traditional concepts of what materials may properly be
worn, so that folk to whom weaving is known neglect available
resources in hides, or, on the contrary, where skin clothing is
worn, greet the introduction of more pliant materials with disap-
proval.

3 Holmberg, p. 30. 4 Ibid., 33.

CONSUMPTION NORMS 273

This is particularly true when certain types of clothing are
associated with social status, a point effectively illustrated by a
situation that at one time developed in the Gold Coast of West
Africa. In a volume dealing with the art of the Ashanti, a detailed
analysis was given of the warp and weft counts of the great
cloths made by these people. 5 These diagrams were somewhat
different from similar analyses which appear from time to time
in anthropological works, having been made by an English
weaving company with the object of reproducing cloths for sale
to the Ashanti themselves at a much lower price than that set
by native craftsmen. The reproductions of the originals were of
such excellence that without close inspection they could not be
told as such either in design or in technical finish; yet the first
shipment was the last, and only Europeans who know no better
or do not care have bought them. For the right to wear these
intricate patterns, each with its special name, goes with rank and
can only be conferred by the king of Ashanti. When a man ap-
peared wearing an imitation cloth, he was greeted with such
ridicule that no Ashanti dared be seen wearing one in public.

Thus, as far as could be determined, a considerable economic
advantage to the consumer was given up without regret, since
economic advantage was at variance with accepted traditions of
seemly behavior and vested rights. With the passing of the years,
however, the economic pull of the less expensive imported cloth
asserted itself in a compromise. Cloths made in Europe are now
generally worn, but the patterns do not in any way resemble the
native designs, which are still found only on cloths of native
manufacture, used by chiefs and men of wealth on occasions of
social and ceremonial importance.

The factor of variation in wants within a given society also
enters in determining standards of consumption. Firth, who ap-
proached the problem of consumption norms in Tikopia from the
point of view of its "complex scheme of social relationships," has
made the point for this group. He found variation in consumption
according to age and sex and status, so that the "wants of single
individuals or households" differ to a considerable degree "from
the waxing and waning demands of intermittent ceremonial
initiations, marriages, or funerals and the seasonal demands of
religious ritual." Translating this, in general terms, into degree

5 Rattray ( 1927 ) , 252-63. 6 Lystad ( communicated ) .

274 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

of elasticity and inelasticity of demand for various products,
Firth further indicates how the variation in demand due to the
operation of these factors in establishing consumption differen-
tials here affects the schedule of production in the economy. In
this way, the groundwork is laid for the satisfaction of differing
wants according to the need of individual or family in terms of
age, sex, status, and situation. 7

IT WOULD not be difficult to range the other forms of primary
consumption goods and indicate how similar traditional values
are factors of the first importance in shaping the economics of
consumption. At this point, however, we may attempt an ex-
position of some of the available materials that bear on the
matter.

One or two specific instances of data of a general kind, which
are available to the student of the economics of consumption
among nonliterate peoples, may be cited. Thus, among the
Omaha, the conventions observed in butchering game were such
that, except for the portion of the animal allotted to the one who
had killed it, it was divided according to the order in which those
engaged in the work reached the carcass. A buffalo was divided
into seven parts, comprising eleven portions, each of a different
degree of desirability. The meat, when "jerked," was placed with
the available ears of corn in the caches found near each dwell-
ing pits, carefully dug to a depth of some eight feet, rounded
at the bottom and sides, and lined with split posts to which
bundles of grass were tied to absorb moisture and assure the
preservation of the contents until needed. 8

Or, again, commenting on the habits of the wild rice gather-
ers, Jenks observes that "the food of primitive man varies with
the season of the year and the section of the country in which
they are," and that "they frequently live upon one staple at a
time." On this basis, he provides a timetable of consumption that
has considerable usefulness. In the region of the upper Great
Lakes those Indians principally consumed maple sugar during
March, April and May; then they ate early berries, and then

7 Raymond Firth (1939), 33-5. 8 Fletcher and LaFleche, 271-5.

CONSUMPTION NORMS 275

green corn, until in the autumn the wild rice became available.
In spring and summer they supplemented their diet with the
vast number of wild fowl to be found near the rice fields, while
in winter the people lived on the meat of the animals they
hunted and the pemmican they made from this meat. Against
these facts the consumption of wild rice is projected. The rice
was eaten mainly after the harvest, though some of it was stored
for later use. The Indians whose hunting grounds became "fruit-
fur* about the time the harvest ended saved a considerable pro-
portion of the grain for later use. 9

In the literature on peoples inhabiting other portions of the
globe, hints of this same general character are also found. Thus
a considerable amount of a man's substance on the island of
Nine was apparently used in gambling. 10 Consumption of certain
foodstuffs in the Marquesas Islands could effectively be stopped
for a time if a chief invoked his right to taboo the gathering of
produce or the killing of pigs so as to ensure an adequate pro-
visioning of fresh breadfruit or taro or coconuts or pigs for a
future feast. 11 In Buka, the consumption of pork is "reserved for
special occasions," when pigs are slaughtered for feasts at which
the prestige of the host depends on how much pork he can pro-
vide. This practice is followed in Malekula 12 and elsewhere in
Melanesia.

The utilization of goods for ritual purposes and, in particu-
lar, ceremonial consumption so as to gain prestige, are among
the most important and consistent elements in the use of avail-
able food resources in primitive societies. This obtains in Mela-
nesia and Polynesia, as has been indicated; its presence in Amer-
ica, though not everywhere in as dramatic a form as in the
Pacific Northwest, and in Africa, as among the Baganda or Zulu
or Ashanti or BaLuba, is equally well known. A common expres-
sion of ritual consumption of goods clusters about the complex of
death and burial customs, when valuable commodities are dis-
posed of. So important is this phenomenon of the drive for pres-
tige, as it impinges on the economic order, that consideration of
it must await the special attention to be given them when, in a
later chapter, the economics of prestige and its role in niain-

Jcnks, 1095-7. 12 Blackwood (1935), 281; Dea-

10 Loch, 50. con, 16-17.

11 Handy (1923), 59.

276 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

taining social position is considered. For the present, and to the
extent the materials will permit, let us seek to understand some-
thing of the quantitative significance of such institutions in
stimulating the consumption of goods. Among the available data
is a list of the amounts of foodstuffs consumed at certain specific
feasts witnessed by early observers in the islands of New
Zealand:

Date Quantity of Food Consumed

1829 462 baskets of potatoes counted

1 831 Upwards of 1 ,000 bushels of potatoes in as many baskets. Joints

of beef and shark.
1831 3,000 bushels of kumara as presents; 2,000 to be consumed, 290

pigs killed for occasion

1836 About 2,000 bushel baskets kumara; 50 or 60 pigs cooked

1837 6 large albatrosses, 19 calabashes shark oil, several tons fish,

principally dried young shark, 20,000 dried eels, great quan-
tity pigs, and baskets of potatoes almost without number

1844 11,000 baskets potatoes; 100 large pigs, 9,000 sharks; liberal
supplies flour, sugar, rice, and tobacco

1846 Several pigs, 6 canoes full of flour and sugar, besides potatoes
and kumara

1846 Several tons potatoes and kumara in rows; 500 pigs, quantity of
eels, 16 casks tobacco

1849 Potatoes, cooked pigs, dried shark, pumpkins, kumara, etc.
Hard to ascertain quantity. At one stage 200 pigs arrived.
About 2,000 baskets of potatoes by then collected 40 tons.
Supplies continued to arrive. 13

Food consumption can be studied on the qualitative as well
as quantitative level. This involves the manner in which a peo-
ple continuously adhere to accepted modes of procedure in re-
spected, though modest, forms of daily living. "Beside the ques-
tions of nourishment and of individual taste or preference," says
Bascom of the Nigerian Yoruba, "patterns of food consump-
tion also involve the factor of prestige. . . . The dishes that
are prepared and even the staple food which serves as the ba-
sis of subsistence vary with economic means, while in order
to maintain a particular social status certain foods must be served
to guests, regardless of what may be eaten in private." Meat
stew and yam loaf are the foods that are kept on hand to serve
those who may come to visit a man, or who may be present
when he sits down to eat. Relative desirability of foods is ex-

13 Firth (1929a), 298, 318-20.

CONSUMPTION NORMS 277

pressed in such a proverb as, "Yam loaf is real food; yam
porridge is just nourishment; if we do not see either, we eat
cornstarch porridge; to keep the mouth from being idle is the
purpose of toasted corn." This numerous people have many
markets where cooked foods are to be purchased. But here again
the prestige factor enters, for it is held shameful if a man has to
send to the market for food with which to entertain unexpected
guests. The stew-pot of a man of standing must always be amply
filled to care for these emergencies. 14

The factor of prestige can thus operate on a small or a large
scale in the economy of a given society. Yet, whether entailing
modest or lavish expenditure, on a day-to-day basis or on special
occasions, the facts regarding expenditure of this kind, even
though incomplete and despite their not being projected against
the total economic system, suggest the resources that can be
summoned to aid in meeting the overall consumption needs of
the society. Understandably, these accounts do not present the
negative aspects of this phase of distribution and consumption,
except by inference, in terms of loss of prestige where an inade-
quate reserve of foodstuffs does not permit the proper procedure
to be followed. That this is a significant factor in the total
economy should, however, not be forgotten, despite the difficul-
ties in obtaining and presenting data of this order.

AN ANALYSIS of the use of foods among the Tallensi of the
Northern Territories of the Gold Coast, West Africa, projects the
patterns of food-consumption against the productive activities of
the people. The approach thus affords a picture of the food
resources that are at the disposal of the native at a given time
of year, and his use of these resources in the light of his im-
mediate needs:

Productive cycle Food cycle

April: First planting rain fell on Food stores very low in average

March 26, and early millet and some households and being rationed.

cow-peas and neri was planted in the Many dependent upon supplemen-

valley settlements. Rain again in tary sources of supply. People buy-

14 Basc,om (1950), 51-2.

278

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Productive cycle

mid-April enabled most people to
plant early millet, etc. Women
sowed their vegetable patches. Hoe-
ing begun; but not more than one
day in three devoted to agriculture.
Communal fishing expeditions.

May: Rains continue erratically.
Early millet planted in the stone and
hilly areas. Others inter-planting
guinea-corn and late millet on com-
pound farms and some ground-nuts.
Work on bush farms preparatory to
planting commenced. Tempo of
agricultural activity increasing rap-
idly.

June: Height of agricultural sea-
son. Men completely absorbed in
hoeing and weeding, planting guin-
ea-corn and late millet on bush
farms, rice, ground-nuts and minor
crops. Hiring labour for help in hoe-
ing and weeding. Women plucking
nangena.

July: Early millet harvested by
those who planted first on valley
land. Hoeing and weeding of com-
pound and bush farms in full swing.
Some still planting subsidiary crops.
Poultry breeding begins.

August: Late planters harvest
early millet. Invited collective la-
bour for hoeing and weeding coming

Food cycle

ing grain abroad for re-sale. Ample
food supplies in market and many
buying grain. Market-prices aver-
age. Children gleaning ground-nuts.
Wild fruits . . . being consumed to
stave off hunger.

Food stores deplenished and se-
vere rationing. "Hunger" com-
mences. Poorer households suffer
two or three days' hunger a week,
living on vegetable soup, ground-
nuts and wild fruits. Householders
send their wives to purchase grain
abroad for consumption and re-sale
if they have money. Many selling
livestock bit by bit to buy grain in
market. Prices of all commodities
rising. Visits being made to rela-
tions in more fortunate areas to get
some grain.

Peak of "hunger" reached. Gran-
aries empty among poorer house-
holds. Much livestock sold or bar-
tered for grain very cheaply; grain
scarce and dear. Much ground-nuts
for sale. Small groups of children
wander about hungry, feeding on
wild fruits and small animals they
find near the settlements. Toward
the end of the month many people
are staunching their hunger by cut-
ting the ripe or half ripe heads of
early millet which they roast on the
embers and nibble at.

Early millet eaten by those who
harvest. Relatives from the later-
planting areas come to beg again.
Wild fruits still eaten and hunger
prevalent in late-planting areas.
Ground-nuts, beginning to ripen,
plucked and chewed as snacks.

Almost everybody has early mil-
let; hunger appeased for a time.

CONSUMPTION NORMS

279

Productive cycle

to the fore, but hired labour still in
evidence. Fresh hibiscus leaves used
in soup.

September: Harvesting ground-nuts
and other subsidiary crops (roots
and legumes) begun. Hoeing and
weeding of bush farms continue.
Women plucking green ocro and
burning early millet stalks for bakaa.
Ritual festivals commence.

October: Harvesting of guinea-
corn, rice, root crops, legumes, etc.,
general. Nen lifted. Women frying
and storing vegetables.

November: Harvesting late millet
on bush-farms, cow-peas and Bam-
bara beans. Women burning valley
grass for ziem. Children gleaning
ground-nuts in play, not because of
hunger. Height of festival season.

December: Agricultural work over.

January: Period of secondary ac-
tivities such as housebuilding, cut-
ting grass and timber for roofing,
handicraft work. Young men begin
to go abroad temporarily.

February: As in January.

Food cycle

Those who harvested in July al-
ready reaching end of supplies of
early millet, and resort to market
and relatives. Early millet very ex-
pensive in market. New ground-nuts
(partly green), roots, and legumes
supplementing diet largely.

Food becoming plentiful. Price
of grain falling rapidly in market.
Cooked food cheap and plentiful in
market. Marriage season begins
(with ritual and social expenditure
of food).

All kinds of food plentiful. Harvest
festivals, during which enormous
quantities of food are consumed and
circulated and many animals sacri-
ficed, giving the maximum meat
supply of the year, and root crops
including purchased yams espe-
cially in demand for the festivals.
All foodstuffs abundant and cheap
in the market.

Height of ritual season: funeral
ceremonies, children's dedication
ceremonies, many marriages; all in-
volving consumption of livestock
and grain, in sacrifices, as cooked
food, and beer.

Grain rationing begins. Grain and
other foodstuffs, including imported
maize, plentiful and cheap at mar-
ket.

Grain issued for only one meal a
day. Many purchasing grain rather
than use up their own supplies.
Ground-nuts and cow-peas regular
and important supplements to cereal
food. Women finding grain to aug-
ment supplies, by trading, etc.

280 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Productive cycle Food cycle

Market supplies still plentiful, prices
average.

March: As in February. Sporadic Grain supplies sinking and more
cleaning of fields and hoeing. carefully rationed. Children and

women gleaning ground-nuts to
stop hunger. People going to Mam-
puru and Nabte countries to pur-
chase grain for re-sale. Grain still
plentiful in market, also other prod-
ucts, e.g., yams (imported).

The conclusions that are drawn from this table may profitably be
quoted: "A striking correlation emerges from the above synopsis
of the cycle of food economy. It will be seen that domestic food-
supplies are at the lowest at the time recognized as such by the
natives of the most arduous output of physical labour, i.e., in
May-June, and highest when there is least agricultural work. In
other words, it would seem that food consumption is inversely
correlated with food requirements, if we may assume that more
food is needed to sustain the arduous agricultural labour of the
rainy season than the leisure months of the dry season." One
reason for this mode of ordering things must be sought in tradi-
tional habit, for it is plain that they lack neither the technique of
storing foodstuffs nor the concepts of thrift and frugality. Ap-
parently, therefore, we not only have here an example of the
organization of the consumption patterns of a nonliterate people,
set forth so as to indicate its regularity and orderliness, but a
demonstration of how, in relation to physiological needs, these
patterns may be determined by custom in a manner not at all
calculated to serve the greatest physical good of the consumers. 15
Another attack on the problem of consumption can be made
by analyzing the possessions of individuals. This yields some
notion of how much a given native has obtained for himself out
of the total productive processes, how much he has to dispose
of, and, to the degree possible to be inferred from what he pos-
sesses, what use he may potentially, at least, make of his goods.
For this we turn once again to the Lobi tribes, and reproduce in-
ventories of the goods owned by members of two households,
one poor and one well-to-do. 10 The values given in francs are cal-

15 M. and S. L. Fortes, 25-3-61. 10 Labourct (1931), 349-51.

CONSUMPTION NORMS 28l

dilated on the basis of January prices, 17 when these lists were
made:

Household of Kidyo Botoro
I. Kidyo personally possessed:

Millet, 2,000 kilograms at fr. 25 500 fr.

Maize, 400 kilograms at fr. 25 100

Yams, manioc, peanuts, etc. 40

Tobacco 5

3 goats at 5 francs 15

7 chickens at 1 franc 7

5 guinea-hens at 1 franc 5

1 dog 5

3 hoes at 2 francs 6

Iron for arrows 3

Axe 2

Various utensils 5

Copper ornaments 10

Cowries 1 5

718

II. Yafokona, wife of Kidyo, owned:

Baskets 4 fr.

Pottery 12
Beans 3

1 chicken belonging to her child 1

Ornaments 15

Cowries 20

~55

III. Dinekoni, co-wife of the preceding and

somewhat older, owned:

Baskets 4 fr.

Pottery 12

Guinea-hens 5

Ornaments 15

Cowries 35

The holdings of this family thus came to 844 francs. In the case of
the wealthier family, whose possessions totalled 2,728.50 francs,
the distribution was as follows:
17 See above, 247-9.

282 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Household of Nomire
I. Nomir6 owned:

Millet: 4,000 kilos at fr. 25 1,000 fr.

Maize: 700 kilos at fr. 25 175

Yarns, peanuts, etc. 100

Tobacco 10

7 head of cattle at 100 francs 700

5 sheep at 12 fr. 50 62 fr. 50
4 goats at 5 francs 20

10 hoes at 2 francs 20

Tools and utensils 15

Copper ornaments 25

Cotton clothing 50

Cowries 200

2,377 fr. 50

II. Tonagniem Pal6, first wife of Nomir,

owned:

Baskets 10 fr.

Pottery 30

Personal provisions 40

2 goats at 5 fr. 10

6 chickens at 1 franc 6
4 guinea-hens at 1 franc 4
Copper ornaments 25
Cotton clothing 30
Cowries, profits from selling beer 10

III. Lompo Da, second wife of Nomir6, owned:

Baskets 6 fr.

Pottery 10

1 goat at 5 francs 5

3 chickens at 1 franc 3

Ornaments 20

1 small cloth 10

Cowries 25

~~79

IV. Bayine Pal6, son of Nomir and

Tonagniem, owned:

1 hoe 2 fr.

1 axe 2

3 chickens _ 3

The other members of this household owned nothing.

CONSUMPTION NORMS 283

It is apparent from these tables that the differences in the pos-
sessions of these two groups must validly reflect a real difference
in their respective standards of living. This, in turn, suggests that
further tabulations of this kind, on a wider scale, based on data
derived from peoples in various parts of the world, must throw
as significant a light on the economics of consumption in non-
literate societies as they must on the distribution of tribal wealth.

OTHER DATA bearing on consumer economics that have been col-
lected in Africa take two forms, the study of budgets and of nu-
trition. The basic question of balance between income and outgo,
the difficulties in assessing which in non-pecuniary societies were
exemplified in the opening pages of this chapter, are here allevi-
ated by the presence of a money economy in pre-European
days based on the cowry shell and other media, and at present
on European currency.

In a study of the budgets of sixteen individuals of the Ibo peo-
ple of Eastern Nigeria, Harris has summarized the data in tables
which give a concept of pattern and variation about these norms
as concerns intake and expenditure. We may, first of all, consider
the annual income and outgo of a man about thirty-three to
thirty-five years old, a member of one secret society, with a
household consisting of two wives, two children a boy of ten
and an infant daughter, and his mother.

Income Income

s. d. s. d.

1. Shares of bride- 6. Shares from fees of
price of various girls new members of

of his kindred 1 9 Akan secret society 1 6

2. Sold no yams (small TOTAL CASH INCOME 5 15 9
crop)

3. Sale of coco-nuts 1 Expenditure

4. Sale of fowl 16 s. d.

5. Profit from trade in 1. Government tax 4
European cloth, 2. School tax 6
bought at Port Har- 3. Contribution for

court and sold at purchase of cows

local markets 5 10 eaten at Bende Divi-

284

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Expenditure

sion Union meeting

4. Contribution for
sacrifice to Kamdlu

5. Contribution for
annual sacrifice to
Aleukwu

6. Food for household

7. Food for self when
away trading

8. Clothing for chil-
dren (in addition to
above profit on
trade in clothes,
takes one cloth each
for self, two wives
and mother)

9. Meat, palm wine,
kola to greet visitors

10. Contributions to
burials of those in
his kindred, and
affinal relatives

11. Stockfish, meat,
and money to those
women who gave
him food during
"famine" period

12. Soap

13. Made fetish so that
his young wife
would become
pregnant

Expenditure

3
60

2 3

s. d.

14.

16.

Calendric cere-
monial sacrifices to
ancestors, deities
and other super-
natural agencies

15. Kerosene

Tobacco, potash,
and snuff
Paid entire bride-
price for his second
wife this year. It
was necessary to pay
this entire sum at
once because the
man who had been
previously paying
for this girl had to
be completely re-
paid before the girl
could become the
wife of this man
Six contributions to
sib council meetings
Contribution for
bribe money given
by sib to policemen
who arrested two sib
members on charge
of illicit distillation
of gin

TOTAL CASH EXPEND-

5 10

859

Such budgets, like the others presented in the analysis under
discussion, "represent only monetary income and expenditure."
Thus they give "no picture of economic reserves ... of these
individuals, nor of the consumption of food not purchased in the
market but which has been obtained through food gifts or ex-
changes or gotten directly from the farms." Nonetheless, "be-
cause so much of the life entails monetary transactions of one
sort or another, these budgets present not only a sharp insight
into the economic life of the Ibo individual but they cast into re-
lief many other aspects of his culture." This is apparent in the
figures given above, which, for example, demonstrate the value

CONSUMPTION NORMS 285

assigned such intangibles as are evidenced by contributions to
kin groups and associations, for religious purposes, or for such
ends as the acquisition of a wife or the provisions to be made for
visitors.

As in most African societies, the economic position of women
is here high. It is thus essential, for any analysis of the consump-
tion economics of this people, that the activities of members of
this sex likewise be taken into account. We may thus consider
the case of a woman about forty to forty-five years old, the first
of her husband's two wives, who had two children by a previous
marriage, but none by her present spouse.

Income

Purchases large pot
of palm-oil for 6d.
or 9d. and resells it
in small quantities
of y%d. or \d. Makes
approx. 3d. profit
on each pot. Dis-
poses of about 15
pots per year
Sale of crops grown
on her farm
Sale of crops gath-
ered in bush
Money received
from men to whom
she sent food during
"famine" period
Profit from trade in
smoked mbasa fish,
pepper, coco-nuts,
and other native
foods. Buys food at
local markets and
resells at markets
where prices are
somewhat higher
Sale of fowl
Profit from trade in
tobacco

Profit from trade in
salt. Sells approxi-

Income

e s. d. s. d.

mately 280 forms of
salt during year 3 6

TOTAL CASH INCOME 3

Expenditure

s. d.

1. Food for household 10

2. Contributions for

4 burials 1

3. Uri, camwood,
150 chalk, and other

cosmetics 1

50 4. Contributions for

purchase of cows at
Bende Division
meeting ^

26 5. Stockfish, meat and

other food sent to
men during "fam-
ine" period 2

6. Contributions to
annual sacrifices to
Alcukwu 2

7. Contribution for

sacrifices to Kamdlu 1 J

8. Clothing for self;

headkerchicf, 2s.;

dress, Is.; 3 cloths,

6 Is Ad. 10 4

9. Various sacrifices

for well-being 1 3

10
4

286 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Expenditure Expenditure

s. d. s. d.

10. Gave 5 s. to husband 12. To daughter of her
when he had court sister who married
case 5 this year she gave:

1 1 . Her son by previous mortar and pestle,
marriage is a trader duck, palm-oil, fish
in cloth at Aba. He and other food deli-

often sends her gifts cacies 5

of cloth. When he TOTAL CASH EXPEND-

visited her this year ITURE 3 5 n

she gave him 1.1 Of. 1 10

It is to be noted that in the two accounts of cash income and
outgo cited here, expenditure exceeds income. In the case of this
man, the large payment of bride-wealth accounts for this dis-
crepancy; the deficit in the second, the only woman's budget
where this was the case, is not explained. It is apparent that this
type of discrepancy must sooner or later be compensated for,
and when the accounts are considered for the total series of cash
budgets presented, we see that the need to balance budgets is
actually not neglected.

It would be beyond the point to reproduce here tabulations of
consolidated income and expenditures for men and women, but
some consideration of the principal items will be worthwhile.
The sale of yams accounts for 16.7 per cent of the total income of
all the men. This is followed by profit from the sale of palm-oil
and kernels (11.2 per cent), profit from trade in European articles
(9.8 per cent), interest on loans (6.6 per cent), money received
from mothers, sons, daughters or other relatives (5.0 per cent),
and bride-price received on behalf of daughters (4.2 per cent).
In the case of the women, the largest source of income was from
sale of crops grown on their farms (29.4 per cent), followed by
money received from trade in native foods, salt, pottery, and to-
bacco (23.1 per cent), profit from the sale of palm-oil and ker-
nels (12.5 per cent), sale of crops gathered in the bush (6.9 per
cent), money from men to whom women sent food during the
institutionalized "famine" period (6.2 per cent) and money re-
ceived from "lovers" men who live with women for whom
bride-wealth has not passed, and whose children are not under
their control (4.0 per cent).

As against this, the most important expenditures for the men

CONSUMPTION NORMS 287

are bride-price and presents for a new wife (20.8 per cent),
clothing (10.3 per cent), food for the household (8.8 per cent),
court fees, fines, and bribes (5.7 per cent), meat, palm wine, and
kola for visitors (5.5 per cent), wages and food to farm laborers
(4.8 per cent), repayment of principal and interest on loans
(4.5 per cent), and diviners' fees, blood-suckings, fetishes, and
miscellaneous sacrifices (4.1 per cent). In contrast to these stand
the priorities in the list for women: food for the household (23.7
per cent), money given to older sons (13.6 per cent), clothing
for self and children (10,7 per cent), diviners' fees, medicines,
blood-suckings, fetishes, and miscellaneous sacrifices (6.7 per
cent), uri, chalk and other cosmetics (6.3 per cent), money given
to husband or dead husband's brother (6.3 per cent), wages to
women who help in weeding the farm (6.1 per cent), and the
purchase of stockfish and meat given to men during the "famine"
period (6.0 per cent).

Two unpublished family budgets collected by Professor Henri
Labouret, may likewise be given. The first is that of a Bambara
family living in the Buguni district of the French Sudan, the
second of a cultivator living in the Adaou district of Indenie,
Ivory Coast. 18

The Bambara family consisted of fifteen persons, four men,
four women, and seven children, who consumed eleven full and
four half rations, or a total of thirteen. The relatives who made
up the group worked six days out of seven in their common field,
where they raised millet, peanuts, fonio, and some maize. In ad-
dition to the communal fields, each of the men and women in
the component households of this extended family had his own
private holding, worked mornings and evenings and the whole
of each seventh day. Their resources assured the family its sub-
sistence without making it necessary for them to purchase any-
thing until a period in June, when those in charge of the houses
sold certain products such as shea-butter and soap, improving
upon their available food supply by utilizing the receipts from
their sales to this end. Since the cost of the daily ration was
1.50 francs, this involved a daily expenditure for the family of
19.50 francs, compensated in part by sales, which came to about 8

18 Other materials of this kind, found in A. T. and G. M. Culwick,
from East Africa, presented in some- 282-9.
what more general terms, are to be

288 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

francs, leaving a net of 11.50, which, multiplied by twenty-five
days the period in question equalled 287.50 francs.

Routine expenses were sufficiently heavy, even though work
clothes were made of cotton which was spun, woven, and sewed
at home. The total budget may be broken down as follows:

I. ORDINARY EXPENDITURES

A. Clothing

1) Men

4 caps of European materials at 5 francs 20.00

4 large tunics at 3 francs per metre 1 20.00

4 pairs shorts at 10.50 42.00

2) Women

3 cloths at 10 francs 30.00

3 handkerchiefs at 3 francs 9.00

3) Children

Miscellaneous 20.00

241.00

B. Supplies

Soap, starch, and bluing 70.00

C. Lighting 9000

D. Miscellaneous 50.00

" 451.00

E. Obligatory ceremonial expenditures 90.00

F. Medicine and consultations 20.00

G. Taxes

8 adults at 22 fr. 17600

4 subscriptions to the Societ6 de PreVoyance 4.00

H. For supplementary cost ofjood, as noted above 287.50

Total of ordinary expenses 1 ,028. 50

II. EXTRAORDINARY EXPENSES
(In 1936 the cost to the head of the family
for the circumcision of young Seriba, one of
the members of this household, was as follows)
1 ox 150.00

Gift to iron- worker 5.00

Soap 5.00

Vegetable fats 5.00

Food for 1 guests over a period of 4 weeks,

at 3 francs per day each 840.00

Miscellaneous 50.00

" 1,055.00

Total family expenditures in 1936 2,083.50

We now turn to the receipts and expenditures of the forest-
dwelling family of Kwaku Duao, of the Ivory Coast. This group

CONSUMPTION NORMS 28$

consisted of two households totalling three men, four women,
and nine children less than ten years of age. Their farms assured
food for these persons, as well as for the workers they hired to
aid in working the thirteen hectares of land planted in cocoa
trees, and the one hectare of coffee shrubs possessed by Kwaku
Duao, which produced the following amounts:

13 tons of cocoa at 1,000 francs 13,000.00

504 kgs. of coffee at 3.25 1,637.00

144 kgs. of bird-lime at 4 fr. 576.00

Total 15,213.00

Against this amount, expenses were:

A. Food

Meat, fish, preserves, salt, oil, condi-
ments, at 250 fr. per month 3,000.00

Food at 1 fr. per day for 12 laborers dur-
ing 8 months 2,880.00

B. Clothing

Men 1,131.00

Women 490.00

Children 125.00

C. Supplies

a) Lighting, soap, starch; b), annual re-
pairs to the metal roofed cement house 700.00

D. Obligatory ceremonial expenditures 1,400.00

E. Medicines and consultations 400.00

F. Expenses of working cash crops 3,480.00

Total 13,606.00

Receipts 15,213.00

Apparent profit 1,607.00

In the above accounting, no note is taken of what members of
the family may have earned on their own account, whether by
working for others or in personal business transactions. Further-
more, it would seem that the amount stated as having been paid
out for the exploitation of cash crops is greater than it should be.
The actual profits of a family comparable to that of Kwaku Duao
may therefore be assumed to have been in the neighborhood of
about 3,500 francs, instead of the 1,607 credited above.

It is apparent from a scrutiny of both these family budgets that
there was a balancing of receipts and expenditures in terms of
needs. Aside from the subsistence requirements, provision was
made for the expenses incurred in meeting the demands of the

2QO ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

supernatural. The figure for this in the first budget is striking,
since an amount greater than that expended for all regular living
costs was required to support the cost of the circumcision rite for
which the group was responsible. How serious an obligation of
this character can be is thus clearly demonstrated.

ANALYSES of the diet of nonliterate peoples are especially enlight-
ening in the study of consumption patterns among nonliterate
peoples because of their quantitative material. One such study
has been made for certain communities of the Bemba tribe living
on the Tanganyika plateau of northeastern Rhodesia. This group
inhabits an area lying from 3,000 to 4,000 feet in altitude; their
economy is based on agriculture. Their diet is fundamentally one
of millet and other cereals, roots and vegetables; meat and fish
play a minor part.

The consumption of food may be indicated by two sample en-
tries from the records:

VILLAGE OF KUSAKA, FAMILY E

Date Men Women Chi I- In- Food Meals

dren fants
Sept. 15 6 1 3 2 l}/2 Ib. flour; 4 Ib. a.m. porridge;

cow-pea leaves; 1 stewed pumpkin.
Ib. dried pump- p.m. porridge;
kin; 1 Ib. ground- stewed cow-pea
nut sauce leaves

Sept. 21 1112 14 Ib. potatoes 4 p.m. potatoes

Sept. 24 1 2 3 3 4*/ Ib. flour; 6 Ib. a.m. children roast

meat their own pota-

toes, p.m. por-
ridge and stewed
meat

VILLAGE OF KUNGU, FAMILY B

Feb. 281 1 03 gourds (V/ 2 Ib.) p.m. only

% Ib. Livingstone
potatoes

Mar. 2 1 1 02 gourds p.m. only

Mar. 7 2 2 02 Ibs. flour a.m. pumpkin, p.m.

2 dried fish porridge and fish

2 pumpkins

CONSUMPTION NORMS 2Q1

The calculation made of food at hand in these villages gives
some idea of the amounts of food "available in a typical village
at a plentiful season of the year." Despite the methodological dif-
ficulties in making this calculation it was found that the sixteen
granaries measured,

. . . showed an average supply of about 2,804 Ib. of millet
per family for the next six months. The relishes stored in the
granaries showed that ... six of fourteen families had a
supply of ground-nuts, one owning about 60 Ibs., and the
others in the neighborhood of 20; seven families had bundles
of dried leaf relishes; six had beans, ground beans and peas
in small gourds; and six had dried potatoes. Two had no sup-
ply of relishes at all, and one householder had only sufficient
seeds left for sowing.

These averages, however, must be considered in the light of the
fact that there are strong seasonable differences in the amounts
of food available at any given time. It must also be remembered
that the rate of consumption may be affected by the amount of
work done at a given season of the year, or by the sudden arrival
of guests, or unexpected demands from kinsmen in the village.

An attempt was made to reckon the "man-value" of the daily
diet: "The average intake of each constituent of the diet per
single 'man-value' per day was obtained by dividing the total
amount eaten over the whole period by the total 'man-value' of
the people eating the food." The reduction of the data in terms of
work done in two villages by men and women of the families
selected for study, though bristling with further methodological
questions that cannot be overlooked in evaluating the results,
throws novel light on the value of the native diet in terms of an
ideal caloric supply. The findings are given on p. 292.

Though interpretations of these data must await more com-
parative materials, their significance for the study of the prob-
lems with which we are concerned is obvious. How essential
work can be carried on in the face of the dietary deficiencies in-
dicated in the table given above is a problem that naturally
arises, but to this question there seems at the present to be no
answer. The explanation should be noted that

. . . while some of the hardest agricultural work of the men

292

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

the clearing of the bush takes place during June, July,
August and September, the most plentiful months of the year
as regards food, yet the heavy hoeing of the old millet gar-
dens before planting them with ground-nuts, and the re-
hoeing of the village beds, should take place in the rainy
months when food is short. During the season under ob-
servation there was no doubt that this work was insufficiently
done, and the productivity of the gardens consequently di-
minished, and less ground put under cultivation.

CALORY INTAKES AND REQUIREMENTS

Village
Kasaka

Kampamba

Family
A
B
C
D
E

A
B
C
D
E
F

Calory

Intake as a

intake per

requirement

percentage

man-value

per man-value

of the re-

per day

quirement

2,293

3,200

3,164

3,300

1,685

3,460

1,440

3,280

1,725

3,350

941
2,510
2,181
1,544
1,508
2,642

3,190
3,160
3,010
2,970
2,960
3,120

30
79
73
52
51
85

The relation between adequacy of food and the energy dis-
played by the people is reflected in the small number of dances
held during the rains, the manner in which "the children sit still
instead of playing noisy, singing games," and the way "men lie
about idly waiting until the evening meal late in the day." 19 It
even affects the psychological "set" which this people have to-
ward situations in which control of their economic needs is in-
volved:

In a society in which people regularly expect to be hungry
annually, and in which traditions and proverbs accustom
them to expect such a period of privation, their whole atti-
tude toward economic effort is affected. In some primitive
tribes it is considered shameful for an individual or a whole
community to go hungry. It is something unexpected, and to

19 Richards and Widdowson, 174-8, 188-90.

UJ
(/)

DRY
HOT
SEASON

\//'' /"

CROPS
BECOME
-SCARCE

REAPING, TREE-I MUCH GARDENING 1

CUTTING.RSHING| AND FISHING |

(T
IU

/ /
/
/

ALL FOODS PLENTIFUL

MUCH SOCIAL ACTIVITY

A \ /
VX -

j
u.

I " * *v V

iu *&j-L * * v.
W C^i* * \

1 W/\R.S

RELISH SCARCE
CROPS PLENTIFUL

LITTLE WORK.

CD
UJ

UJ
O

\\\ jjj

\-"^y

CO
UJ

i/} \x ^-..

/ " iX ^\"

RELISH PLENTIFUL
CROPS SCARCE

HEAVY GARDENING
AND FISHING
FOR ALL

Ul
D

r ;

1 >KY -4
1 HOT
(SEASON)

'^ /

\ \ /

h*
o

U.OOO

toce*

294 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

be resisted with energy. Among the Bamba scarcity is within
the ordinary run of experience, and accepted as such.

This is apparent when, tired with the routine of housework and
farming, women fail to cook, though they sit hungry "with millet
in their granaries and relish to be found in the bush." The ex-
planation given for this is that "a people accustomed from in-
fancy to an irregular diet do not feel sufficiently indignant or
surprised at missing a proper meal to resist such an event ener-
getically." 20

On the other hand, the Lozi, who live on the Barotse plain of
the Zambesi river in Basutoland, show how, in this same general
area, the pattern of available food consumption of the same order
as concerns agricultural produce, is alleviated by the availability
of meat and fish, called "relishes" in the English usage of the
region. Cattle, among the Lozi, being a food resource and only
secondarily a prestige good, 21 are utilized, when other proteins
fish, game, and birds and milk are scarce. The total food sup-
ply is thus kept at a high level, when crops and game are at a
minimum, by the supply of milk and fish, while during four
months of the year, all foods are in abundance. Diversity in food
resources thus holds the level of basic subsistence goods rela-
tively constant and compensates for seasonal variation in supply
that can constitute a serious problem where reliance is placed
on a single source and the technology is simple. 22

A DETAILED study of family consumption norms of the Malay of
Kelantan exemplifies many of the points raised in the preceding
pages where the question of budgeting resources have been con-
sidered. "The basic problem," we learn, "is universal: not only
to have enough to eat to keep alive, but also to satisfy the de-
mands of personal tastes, religious rules and a multitude of so-
cial obligations, all as important to the life of the group as mere
subsistence is to the life of the organism."

This demands varied employment of resources in terms of the
wants that are felt:

20 Richards (1939), 37, 105. 22 Gluckman (1941), 18-19.

21 See above, 264-5.

CONSUMPTION NORMS 2Q5

The degree of knowledge, skill and energy, combined with
the relative valuation by the individual of personal and so-
cial needs, will determine the extent to which the problem
of managing resources is efficiently solved. In different con-
ditions, the different "pulls" of demand will take a different
strength and direction. But the reasons which underlie this
can be analyzed. Different conceptions of housekeeping are
not haphazard, accidental, due entirely to stupidity or ava-
rice. They are the result of different social evaluations of
time, leisure, hospitality, display, tradition, initiative, and a
host of other considerations. The resulting pattern of be-
haviour, in conjunction with the level of resources deter-
mined on the productive side, results in the standard of liv-
ing of a people. 23

It is in these terms that the expenditures of the families of the
fishermen studied must be considered, together with "the con-
siderable choice in details of consumption" of these units, which
none the less can be seen as "conforming broadly to certain pat-
terns of consumption." This is at once apparent in the graphic
presentation of the seven groups of " main items of daily expendi-
ture" based on detailed tabulations gathered in the course of
field research, and reproduced on the following page.

These are the standard expenditures. In addition there are
various "non-recurrent" items soap, needles, clothing, and the
like, calling for "negligible" amounts and "ceremonial payments
and gifts," which are anything but negligible. These are classi-
fied as private and public obligations. The former are to finance
the expenditures that mark the "crisis rites" birth, death, mar-
riage, and circumcision. As in other societies where the margin
of income over subsistence needs is slight, these are financed by
contributions from others. This, however, is reciprocal, and
merely means that costs are spread over a considerable period
before a feast, when a backlog of reciprocities is built up, and
afterwards, when initial gifts are returned in equivalent amounts.
Gifts given are characteristically greater than expenditures on a
given occasion one wedding which produced $295 in cash con-
tributions and some $60 worth of rice cost $190, leaving a bal-
ance of about $165. "This of course," we are told, "is really only a

23 Rosemary Firth, iii-iv.

c:V

o -

CONSUMPTION NORMS 2Q7

realization of assets, and a mortgaging of the future." The ad-
vantage comes through the command of a surplus, which even
if only temporarily in the possession of an individual, can be
used to acquire land or to buy a boat or fishing net. But his ob-
ligation remains, and it is noteworthy that "the future prospects
of the host are a definite factor in the consideration of the guest
in deciding how much to give."

Public ceremonial obligations are incurred on Moslem feast
days. Thus during Ramadan, the daytime fasts are offset "by
indulging in mighty meals all night," when commodities, the
price of which goes up for the period, are consumed. At the end
of the month, there is a three-day holiday, when visits are ex-
changed, pilgrimages to the graves of ancestors are made, and
presents of cakes are given friends. On another holiday, cele-
brating Mohammed's journey to Mecca, "the ideal is for a fam-
ily to have a share in a bull to be killed ceremonially, the flesh
of which is to be given away to the poor or, more usually, either
divided raw among friends and relatives or eaten at a party to
which guests are invited." Still another occasion is a religious
holiday on which a group of people prepare a special kind of
pudding for distribution.

Here, as in Africa, the yearly round has periods of plenty and
those when resources are scarcer. Yet as far as the fisherman of
this region is concerned, "with perhaps a few exceptions, he is
not, even during the difficult period of the monsoon" when fish-
ing cannot be carried on, "living on the margin of subsistence."
His diet is fairly well balanced at all times; "from the point of
view of nutrition, ... it seems probable that the fisherman's
family enjoys a diet which at most times of the year is sufficient
for the energy needs of the people, not too unvaried, and, prima
facie, not badly balanced." 2l

24 Ibid., 76, 127, 129, 131, and passim.

CHAPTER XIII

CAPITAL FORMATION

THE PRODUCTIVE activities of men are directed toward one of the
two possible ends of the economic process that have been set
forth, with various phrasing, by economists. The first is the pro-
duction of consumption goods, such as food, clothing, and other
commodities that provide subsistence wants, or those goods that
fill psychological needs and validate social status. The second end
is the making of what has been termed by Marshall auxiliary or
instrumental capital, 1 by Ely production goods, 2 and by Selig-
man productive capital, 3 which in non-mechanized societies
would include implements such as hoes, knives, nets, traps, ca-
noes, forges, looms, and similar instruments to further produc-
tion. Goods in this second category, moreover, can be further
subdivided. The expenditure of labor on larger group projects
such as terraces, temples, irrigation ditches or on roadways
"public works," that is can be distinguished ethnologically, if
not from the point of view of economic theory, from the tools
and other production goods employed by individuals.

Whatever divisions may be marked off, we must always guard
against drawing hard-and-fast lines in making our classifications
or arbitrarily assigning a given good to any single category,
where differentiations in form and function are as generalized
as we have found them to be in non-industrial economies. Food
clearly falls in the first class, whether grown to be eaten by the
individual cultivator and his family or as a response to patterns
of prestige in terms of which a large proportion of a crop will
have no other use than to be displayed so as to acquire an in-
tangible good, prestige. A hoe, on the other hand, though it

1 Marshall, 75. 3 Seligman, E. R. A. ( 1905), 313.

2 Ely, 110.

298

CAPITAL FORMATION 2QQ

would seem to fall equally clearly in our second class, may take
on a sacred character and have lavished on its blade and handle
all the ornamentation that can go into embellishing sacred ob-
jects, thus defeating its primary aim, since it can probably never
be productively employed, and making of it a prestigeful con-
sumption good.

Unlike the study of consumption norms, capitalization of ef-
fort has had wide discussion, although it has perforce been di-
rected toward a specialized variety of the phenomenon, one
which is largely inapplicable to non-pecuniary societies. Early
in the history of economics the term "capital" came to have the
restricted meaning not only of those tools and other means of
production, but also of the investment resources controlled by an
individual called a "capitalist." The returns on this man's invest-
ment, the reward for his abstention from immediate enjoyment
that is, consumption of whatever resources were available to
him, were called "profits" if his participation in an industry was
direct, or "interest" if it was indirect. This return was thus
equated with that earned by the worker for his expenditure of
energy, or by land in reason of its value; and thus no concepts
are more fundamental to economics than those comprised in the
triad "land, labor, and capital," the resources of a people, and its
companion triad "rent, wages, and interest," the corresponding
return for each.

From the point of view of economic theory, the question of
capital formation can in principle, and for any society, be ap-
proached in various ways. In the final analysis, all capital de-
rives from the interplay of the factors of labor and available
resources that, in a given economic system, provide for the needs
of living, and by diverting a certain proportion into production
rather than consumption goods, further the processes of maxi-
mizing satisfactions.

The classical economists envisaged this in terms of the denial
of present satisfactions so as to achieve future gain. As Adam
Smith put it, 4 "Capitals are increased by parsimony, and dimin-
ished by prodigality and misconduct." In a pecuniary economy,
this means the investment of savings in the term of money in
permanent installations and production goods that will yield to
the investor return on his capital, while providing the society as

4 Adam Smith, 321.

300 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

a whole with more consumption goods that result in raising the
standard of living. This theory dominated most of the earlier
capitalization of resources in the industrialized countries of Eu-
rope and America. And it is not without interest, in terms of in-
tellectual no less than of economic history, to speculate on the
degree to which this same theory, taken over from the classical
economists, in modified form, by Karl Marx and from him by the
economists of the Soviet Union and other countries wherein com-
munism prevails, may not underlie the various "Plans" that have
been instituted there. It is equally interesting to observe the re-
flex of these back into the planning that has come to mark the
operations of large-scale private and governmental enterprises
in capitalist economies.

Another approach to the problem of capitalization is the
Keynesian attack, which envisages the development of capital in
terms of the utilization of the continuing pool of unemployed
labor-power that marks the large-scale industrialized production
system in the pecuniary machine economies of contemporary
capitalist societies. Because of its striking departure from earlier
positions in its underlying assumptions and in its implications
for the formulaton of economic policy, it has been the subject
of much controversy. Like all of Keynesian theories, however, this
one is specifically oriented toward the problems of the society
out of which it has grown. It has little relevance for the non-
pecuniary, non-machine societies with which we are here con-
cerned. For, as has been amply demonstrated, the utilization of
available man-power in such societies presents no difficulty. Un-
employment, in the sense of the term as used in the industrial-
ized economies of the historic world, is almost literally unknown.

A third approach, which similarly stems from the conception
of deriving capital accumulation out of excess labor power, en-
visages an economy in which the production of consumption
goods food, clothing, and shelter, let us say requires less than
the total labor available to the society. In this case, capital goods
can be acquired by the society if this surplus labor is diverted
away from the subsistence activities, where its utility is negative,
toward other forms of work. This is the mechanism that has been
in operation where technological change has made for greater
efficiency in the production of subsistence needs and has thus

CAPITAL FORMATION 3O1

released labor-power to be applied in the making of capital
goods.

Something of a combination of the first and third of these
alternatives is to be seen in the economies of nonliterate people;
here as elsewhere, however, the generalized nature of the insti-
tutions in such cultures preclude the degree of fineness in differ-
entiation that characterized the analysis of those in literate, pe-
cuniary, and industrial cultures. This is apparent in Firth's
discussion of Tikopean economics, where he comments on a
''marked feature" of this system, "the ease with which many
goods ordinarily used for direct consumption are converted into
goods used for production and vice versa." He illustrates this in
the following passage:

Pandanus mats used for sleeping purposes, and bark-cloth,
used for blankets and clothing, are employed to facilitate the
production of such articles as canoes, troughs and sinnet
cord; food, both cooked and raw, and food-plants such as
coco-nuts, are essential elements in the maintenance and re-
ward of producers. On the other hand sinnet cord, used in
fishing and for the lashing of canoe and house timbers, and
wooden bowls, used in the preparation of food, are sought
and accumulated for transfer in large amounts on such non-
productive occasions as funerals, marriage, and initiation
ceremonies. Even such apparently fixed productive items as
canoes, troughs and bonito hooks can be handed over as in-
demnity for services of a non-economic kind. It is as if in
our society clothing, bedding and plates and dishes were
poured into the productive system to pay for the making of
tables, chairs, boats, and motor-cars; while on the other hand
the habit of giving kitchen utensils as wedding presents were
extended to embrace the presentation of ploughs and work-
men's tools, and business men accumulated machinery partly
for the purpose of meeting their social obligations. 5

The factor of co-operative labor, discussed above, and part-
time work, enters here also. It will be remembered how, in Da-
homey, the way in which those affiliated with a given forge in
turn work on the iron of each fellow-member. This, in a very real

5 Raymond Firth (1939), 237-8. fl Ch. IV, Section 4, passim.

302 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

sense, compounds the combined productive ability of the indi-
vidual members of the group by making for a greater degree
of smoothness of operation and presumably a greater production
of the hoes that are so important a form of production good in
the native economy. More than this, however, is the fact that
about one-fourth of the time and effort of each worker actually
goes for the production of subsistence goods, one day of each
four-day week being given over to agricultural and other similar
work. The rationale for this is religious; it is believed that on the
day sacred to Gu, the deity of iron, the forge must rest. This
frees the iron-worker for these other tasks and, from the point
of view of the total economy, feeds the labor-power he expends
on that day back into the production of primary consumption
goods. This subtracts by so much from that part of the whole
his labor-power contributes in extending the capital resources of
the total economy.

The question of capitalization of resources in nonliterate so-
cieties has in part been given little attention for much the same
reasons advanced to account for the lack of data concerning their
patterns of consumption, and in part because of the direction of
anthropological interests toward other aspects of group life than
its economic phases. Especially important, again, is the absence
in these societies of a ready measure of value. Lacking this, al-
most any approach not wholly qualitative presents ever-present
problems of method which are formidable in scope and have, as
far as detailed analysis is concerned, yet to be solved. Our dis-
cussion here, therefore, will be focused essentially on problem,
though such data as are available will be utilized.

IF WE probe some of the implications of the conceptual triad of
land, labor, and capital, with their postulated returns of rent,
wages, and interest on profits, added reasons will become ap-
parent why students of non-pecuniary economies have been re-
luctant to become enmeshed in what appears to be a resulting
dialectic. It should be evident that no society exists where all of
these three land, labor, and capital are not found, where any
of the three, indeed, can conceivably be absent. That land is

CAPITAL FORMATION 303

basic to production is too obvious to need elaboration; its im-
portance as property will be treated in the next section of this
book. Labor is equally fundamental, no matter how idyllic the
mode of life. As for capital, there is no people who live so close
to nature that they do not employ tools of some sort the defini-
tion of man as a "tool-using animal" will be remembered and
consequently, at least to that degree, the phenomenon of capital-
ization is present. Moreover, it is only the poorest cultures where
more permanent works are not found, and instances are not lack-
ing where even the more specialized use of the term "capital"
can be applied, as has been demonstrated in the discussion of
credit and interest in those nonliterate societies where money
capital is present.

Since land, labor, and capital are ever-present forces in non-
industrialized economies, it is apparent that they must yield some
returns. The question for the economic theorist thus concerns
the extent to which these returns can be classified in prescribed
manner and under approved headings. Examples will be en-
countered where rent, as such, is charged for the use of land.
Wages have been found in the form in which they are known in
Euroamerican society a definite pecuniary return, or specified
pay in kind, for work performed for another person over a given
period of time. Interest exists as return on loans, and profits as
the reward for an investment of labor or wealth, or both, in goods
destined for the market. But nearly all such examples can be
regarded as exceptional among nonliterate peoples. Even where
they are found, it is often only by compressing the data into the
mold of concepts derived from economic theory that any recog-
nizable resemblance to the rent, the wages, the interest, or the
profits of the industrialized economies of Europe and America
can be extracted.

Most peoples recognize the boundaries that are indispensable
adjuncts to any system of land tenure; but it will be seen 7 how
private property rights in land individual ownership is a rar-
ity. No land-hunger exists, and there is thus no reason to lay
stress on private ownership; land is customarily held for use
only, with the title theoretically vested either in the group as a
whole, or in a headman as its representative and responsible
head. What, then, of rent? Should it be said that the grain a man

7 Pp. 331-70 below.

304 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

harvests from the field he has worked represents his return from
his land, and hence is to be regarded as rent? Or is this a return
for his labor, and thus his wages? Or is it yet but a kind of inter-
est on "that particular form of capital" which it constitutes "from
the point of view of the individual cultivator," 8 the man who has
improved the land by working it? Furthermore, in the matter of
wages, is the feast given by a man for whom co-operative work
is performed to be looked upon as payment to those who, by ex-
pending their labor, have helped a neighbor? That this, as most
instances of what can conceptually be classified as wages in non-
literate societies, is rather a return for incidental work than the
major instrument for obtaining a livelihood is theoretically aside
from the point. But what of the fact that this feast is but a part of
a reciprocal agreement?

Similar considerations must be kept in mind when we try to
apply to non-industrialized economies the current concepts of
capital and its return. Granted that the tools of a worker consti-
tute his capital in such cultures, or that an irrigation ditch, a
more permanent improvement of the land, represents a capital
investment of the combined effort of the community that has
made it, how shall the return be classified? When the iron-worker
uses bellows, hammer, and anvil on which he has lavished hours
of labor, is his gain from the goods he produces to be regarded
as a return on capitalized investment, or a reward for labor?
When the members of a community come to have at their dis-
posal additional quantities of food because they have dug an ir-
rigation ditch, is this interest, or a kind of rent, or wages? To
show how data from nonliterate cultures must be distorted to
make them fit into the matrix of concepts developed from the
study of our complex society, we need but cite one example
where this has been tried. Thurnwald maintains that "the in-
crease of cattle . . . suggested the idea of productive posses-
sions and of interest on capital. Similar conceptions apply to the
possession of a wife," 9 But he is obviously applying concepts to
a situation where, in terms of the culture concerned, they have
no applicability.

In a few studies of nonliterate groups, the phenomenon of cap-
italization has received a somewhat more explicit treatment.
Thus, among the Popoluca of Eastern Mexico "essential" capital

8 Marshall, 535. 'Thurnwald (1932b), 205.

CAPITAL FORMATION 305

goods are listed as "machetes, axes, chahuaste (a flat-bladed
cultivating tool), gunny sacks, rope, crude pack saddles, bows,
arrows, fish-nets, hatchets, guns, powder, shot, carrying nets, and
pocket knives." 10 Later, other items, such as digging sticks,
fences, and pack animals are added to the list. Yet even in an
economy as little complex as this, the question of category pre-
sents itself:

Food on hand for family consumption offers no problem. But
take the case of 1000 kilos ( or whatever the exact figure is )
of beans in the store house of Fidel Hernandez. His family
will consume 100 kilos, and these obviously are not to be
classed as capital. The remaining 900 kilos will be converted
into clothing, flashlights, axes and other items he is unable to
produce directly, and thus should be classed as capital. It
is clear that many Populuca items, as Western items, are
fluid, and constitute capital depending on how they are
used." u

Or, again, we may turn to the Kwakiutl of the Northwest Coast
of North America, whose "plane of living," we are told "was one
of the highest of any North American Indian group." Though
known best for the dramatic ceremonies of the potlatch wherein
wealth was redistributed or destroyed, it is apparent that their
daily life had no lack of support. "They were wealthy not only
in the material necessities of everyday living, but also in the pos-
session of numerous objects, tools, utensils, houses and canoes.
. . ." The interplay between natural and human resources and
capital equipment is made apparent in a further statement: "Al-
though Kwakiutl wealth was closely related to the great natural
wealth of the region in which they lived, it was actually pro-
duced by their magnificent technical and artistic virtuosity and
by their unusual energy." Food-getting techniques, especially
those employed in fishing, were numerous and, together with
modes of gathering wild foods, produced surpluses, to retain
which different techniques of storage were used.

Texts gathered from the Kwakiutl by earlier students have
been drawn on by Codere to make up a list of the "economic ac-
tivities" of this people. Fifty-one "industries" are listed, such as
making dishes, boxes, and other objects used in caring for food

10 G. M. Foster (1942), 16. " Ibid., 39-40.

306 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

or storing it, and the manufacture of canoes, paddles, sails, traps,
nets, hooks, and other items employed in fishing, in addition to
various techniques of obtaining and preserving food-stuffs. These
give some indication of the capitalization of effort and resources
required to produce the goods needed for carrying on the sea-
sonal subsistence and prestige economies of this society. And this
is made even more evident by the fact that "the Kwakiutl defi-
nition of an economic activity was the making of a single prod-
uct or tool with specialized planned functions, or the procuring
of a single natural product, often, as the presence of specific stor-
age techniques and containers indicated, in anticipation of a
storable surplus." 12

It is revealing of the problem inherent in studying capital for-
mation, use, and return on investment in societies such as the
preceding one and those a part of the larger economic system of
the literate world, to compare the preceding data with those
gathered among the Malay peasant fishermen of the states of
Kelantan and Trengganu. With a well-defined industry, having
capital investment paid for in money, strictly speaking, with re-
turns computed on the basis of a catch sold for export, the preci-
sion that derives from analyses based on an instrument of this
kind for measuring value can be achieved. Variation within the
society in terms of individual control of capital goods can be as-
sessed; the distribution of available resources between different
courses of action studied, and returns computed. Here, however,
we enter the area of economic history and economic analysis in
the customary sense. We are at that point on the continuum that
stretches from non-pecuniary economies to those of the literate,
industrialized peoples where the circumstance of culture-contact
intervenes to create problems of a character not envisaged in the
terms of reference of this work. 18

THE INADEQUACY of the data concerning capital goods in non-
literate societies thus remains to plague the student, rendering
it difficult, when considering them, to know just when a given

12 Codere, 4-5, 14-20. 13 Raymond Firth (1946), 126-

183, and passim.

CAPITAL FORMATION 307

object may be classified as a capital good. There is little question
that the irrigation ditches of the Pima Indians, for example, rep-
resent capitalization of effort and were so viewed by native opin-
ion, however ambiguously phrased. "When a tract was newly
brought under irrigation a committee of six men was chosen to
make allotments to those who had assisted in digging the
ditches," and the right to use this productive land was thus held
to be a reward for the effort put into constructing the improve-
ments on it. 14 If, however, we turn to a list of the "domestic im-
plements and utensils, fire sticks and yam sticks, huts and shel-
ters," of the Australian aborigines of Queensland, and ask which
of these are capital goods and which are merely secondary con-
sumption goods, the problem becomes much more complicated:

1. Elongated wooden trough

2. Native chisel ( of wood with flint blade )

3. Native cementing substance

4. Water-bags

5. Dilly-bags

6. Grind-stones

7. Pounding stone

8. Fire-sticks (2 kinds)

9. Yam-stick

10. Huts and shelter (3 kinds) 15

Perhaps the first two items, the fourth to seventh, and the ninth
and tenth might be classified as one or another possible type of
capital goods; but the other two are patently consumption com-
modities.

What may be learned of the incidence of capital goods in non-
literate societies is probably best to be inferred from discussions
and descriptions of material culture and technology. Some idea
can in this way be had of what a people possess and, in some
cases, what the productive effort of the group has accomplished
in the way of public works. This is to be seen in the elaborate
listing of material culture traits that has been made for one of
the peoples of the North American sub-arctic, the Ingalik of the
lower Yukon River, a Northern Athapaskan group. Three hun-
dred and thirty-three items manufactured by this people are de-
scribed. These include, first of all, primary tools, such as knives,
awls, adzes; lines of sinew, bark and grass; containers; and such

14 Russell, 87-8. 15 Roth (1897), 101.

308 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

things as fire-drills, stretchers, and wood pestles. Then come
weapons; fishing implements; snares, deadfalls, and other traps;
clothing; shelters, caches, and racks; items incident on travel,
from bridges to boats; dyes and paints. Forty-nine of the total
number of items comprise toys and games, dyes and paints, pu-
berty paraphernalia, and objects used at funerals and for reli-
gious ceremonies. Of the items in the classifications given above,
perhaps fifty more might be queried as to their inclusion in a
list of capital goods objects such as labret plugs, nose beads,
soap, medicine, and the like. The culture is one of the "simpler"
ones, being based on hunting, fishing, and food-gathering. It is
not without significance to realize that, in such a culture, two-
thirds of the material objects produced by the people are in the
nature of instruments which further the production of basic ne-
cessities of life and promote physical survival. But only by infer-
ence does such a fact help solve the problems raised when
questions concerning the capitalization of resources are under
consideration. 10

There is little point in reproducing here any of the numerous
other listings of material goods, instruments of production, and
public works such as can be found in almost any ethnographic
work, inasmuch as, lacking their economic setting, relatively lit-
tle would be gained by doing so. It can be shown, for example,
that tribes living in more favorable environments, or having com-
plex technologies or with relatively extensive human resources,
produce more goods and have more to show for the labor of their
members in the way of means of further production and of per-
manent structures than other peoples who live in less favorable
settings, or whose technical equipments are simpler, or whose
populations are smaller. It would not be unprofitable, indeed, to
compare from this point of view two such lists of the goods pro-
duced by groups living in different parts of the same general
area, both of which have been studied by the same competent
student. These detail the elements in the material culture of the
inhabitants of the small South Sea island of Tongareva, where
resources are comparatively slight and economic organization is
comparatively simple, and of Samoa, which has a large popula-
tion, a highly developed social structure, and a more favorable

16 Osgood, passim.

CAPITAL FORMATION 309

environment. 17 But even were this done, we should then only be
enlightened on the very general points just mentioned, while of
the many further important problems arising out of the presence
and use made of these goods and the manner of their control,
such an exercise would tell us almost nothing.

At some future time, it is to be hoped, students who stress the
economics of capitalization in nonliterate societies will turn their
attention to these tribes whose technological basis of production
and whose material equipment is well known. Building on these
essential data, they may then proceed to investigate the problems
arising from the fact that these folk have invested their labor-
power in more or less long-lived goods. Until this is done, how-
ever, the incidence and significance of capitalization in non-in-
dustrial societies can be discussed only in terms of problems to
be studied and of possible procedures to be followed, as has been
the case in this chapter. This much, nevertheless, we can say:
once such data are collected and made available, there is little
doubt that they will provide comparative materials that will en-
rich our understanding of comparable processes in our own
economy.

17 Hiroa (1932), passim; (1930), passim.

PART IV

PROPERTY

CHAPTER XIV

THE PROBLEM
OF OWNERSHIP

WE HAVE thus far been concerned with the dynamics of the eco-
nomic systems in nonliterate societies, especially as these mani-
fest themselves in their productive and distributive mechanisms.
At this point, however, we must shift the focus of our attention
from process to institution. We therefore move, first of all, to the
analysis of those concentrations of wealth which, as property, are
based on what is produced. These concentrations, in their func-
tional role, reflect the utilization by the community of goods and
services either for ends determined by all its members, or for
ends dictated by those to whom, consciously or through tradi-
tional usage, this task is delegated.

The realism of the anthropological approach to economic phe-
nomena is best seen in the very fact that, in the study of com-
parative economic systems, both processes and institutions must
receive consideration. Here, too, the underlying unity in the in-
terests of analytical and institutional economists becomes appar-
ent. For in the detachment gained through the study of the eco-
nomic life of non-industrial societies it becomes clear that
economic institutions are everywhere the end result of economic
processes, while processes must be studied the better to compre-
hend those institutions that develop out of their operation. 1 In
the analysis of our own economy, it is possible though accord-
ing to institutional economists not desirable to take the end
result of the processes of production and distribution as these
affect the non-economic phases of social life, which are more or

1 Knight (1924), 258, 259-60.

313

314 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

less taken for granted. These economic by-products are thus ei-
ther disregarded or are accorded only cursory mention. In the
case of nonliterate economies, this is not possible. For even
though the cultural matrix is well in hand, no clear picture can
be gained of economic organization unless we know both the
means taken by peoples to get a living and to produce what
wealth they may have, and the manner in which the disposal of
this wealth influences the form and operations of institutions
which, in turn, affect the life of a given group.

THE DIVERGENCE in focal concerns between anthropologists and
conventional economists is nowhere more immediately discern-
ible than in those problems that cluster about the concept of
property. From the point of view of economists whose concern
is with economic processes as they may reveal economic laws,
property, as such, is too static a phenomenon, too much the re-
sult of an interplay of forces the majority of which are non-eco-
nomic, to be of any great interest. Some attention is occasionally
paid to hypothetical "stages" through which the evolution of the
institution of ownership is assumed to have reached its present
forms. More commonly, however, when property is discussed in
the orthodox textbooks, it is treated merely as an end result of the
disposal of those goods whose accumulation is a phase of the
processes of production, distribution, and exchange. The prob-
lems of property, being essentially legal, sociological, or ethical,
are more often ignored than not. Economists, it is true, do devote
some attention to the questions of how the ownership and use
of producers' goods affect further production, or how the drive
toward the accumulation of wealth influences distribution and
exchange. But the orientation of such discussions toward these
phenomena is almost invariably to consider them as phases of
production, or distribution, or exchange, and is generally not re-
lated to the study of property as such.

This orientation is the more evident when we examine defini-
tions and discussions of property, of which the following may be
taken as an example: "Property and wealth are respectively the
personal and impersonal, the legal and the economic, aspects of

THE PROBLEM OF OWNERSHIP 315

productive agents." In another passage of the same text we read:
"Property is ownership, the legal control over the sources of eco-
nomic income." The discussion of the phenomenon thereupon
proceeds to analyze further the legal aspects of ownership and
ethical considerations inherent in statements such as: "Property
rights must meet the test of social expediency." 2 That is to say,
what is held to be of interest to economists in this aspect of social
life is the production of wealth, the manner in which it is dis-
tributed among the members of a community, the use to which
such resources as individuals may acquire are put, under existing
sanctions, and the further productive or distributive or consump-
tive activities that result from this process of accumulation. By
the same token, economists are not concerned with such matters
as the sanctions themselves, or the manner in which the holding
of wealth may influence the social structure as a whole, or the
far-reaching political, religious, and artistic consequences that
may issue from the varied concentrations of wealth in the hands
of individual members of a given society.

The anthropological position, on the other hand, lays emphasis
on the very factors that least interest the majority of economists
who have treated of property. The logic of this is inescapable.
The forms which social definitions of property may take are so
manifold, the bases on which ownership of wealth may be sanc-
tioned are so varied, and the modes of ordaining the use of
property are so different that the description of these facts is
essential if we are to be provided with a setting that will enable
us to see the institution in its proper perspective. This is why
the approach most frequently encountered in anthropological
discussions of property, whether among a particular people or as
it exists in the nonliterate world in general, is so often purely
descriptive. This is also why anthropological interest in the in-
stitution of property has been so largely dictated by its close re-
lationship to the social structure under which it exists.

Lowie, 3 whose consideration of property has considerably influ-
enced anthropological thought concerning the value of studying
property in nonliterate societies, sets the tone when he states

2 Fetter, 361-3, 370. somewhat less rigid terms, but in

3 Lowie (1920), 205 ff. In a re- no way revises his basic point of
writing of this earlier work (1948), view enough to invalidate what is
Lowie discusses the problem in stated here.

316 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

that "notions of property tinge every phase of social life." This
sentence is found at the outset of a chapter on property in a
volume which, appropriately enough for the point being made
here, is devoted primarily to the analysis of the forms of human
social life and thus is entirely outside the literature of economics.
The need to assess the validity of the hypothesis that "the trans-
mission of property has been a potent factor in the creation of
sib organization" is indicated as the immediate reason for the
inclusion of the discussion at all in the volume, and this point
of view is reflected throughout the pages devoted to land tenure
and the ownership of material and non-material goods, and, as
might be expected, to modes of inheritance. The question
whether or not wives are to be regarded as property is examined
in the light of this theoretical postulate; and the problem of the
existence or non-existence of "primitive communism" is consid-
ered from the same point of view.

Schmidt, who has devoted a volume to the forms of property
in what he terms the "simplest" societies the Urkulturen
makes his analysis from a point of view which would more nearly
approach that of an institutional economist than does that of
Lowie. More elaborate in its treatment, and stressing psycholog-
ical, sociological, and religious factors in ownership, he never-
theless gives in each case something of the environmental setting
of the cultures he considers, and of the manner in which these
folk, with their meager technological equipment, go about ob-
taining their living. 4

To round out our discussion, the position of the institutional
economists should at this point be examined. Commons makes
very plain the importance of the study of property and owner-
ship for those who follow this approach when he says:

Going back over the economists from John Locke to the or-
thodox school of the present day, I found that they held two
conflicting meanings of wealth, namely: that wealth was a
material thing, and again that it was the ownership of that
thing. But ownership, at least in its modern meaning of in-
tangible property, means power to restrict abundance in
order to maintain prices; while the material things arise from
power to increase the abundance of things by efficiency of

4 Schmidt, W., passim.

THE PROBLEM OF OWNERSHIP 317

production, even in overproduction. Hence, ownership be-
comes the foundation of institutional economics, but ma-
terial things are the foundations of the classical and hedonic
economics, whose "corporeal" meaning of property was
equivalent to the material thing owned.

Later in the same work we find passages that, especially germane
to the point under consideration, clarify and extend this point
of view. Thus at one point we read: "The term 'property' can-
not be defined except by defining all the activities which indi-
viduals and the community are at liberty or are required to do or
not to do, with reference to the object claimed as property." At
another, we find the statement: "Property is not only a claim but
is also a conflict of claims to whatever is scarce, but rights of
property are the concerted action which regulates the conflict." 5
Hamilton and Till analyze the concept of property in these
terms:

A creature of its own intellectual history, the word belongs
to a culture, to a society, and to a vocabulary. The hazard of
reading the associations of the word into the subject of in-
quiry constantly attends its use; at best it is a darkened glass
wherein to exhibit passing systems of ownership. . . .
About every great need food, sex, work, parade, worship,
defense a group develops its own unique ways of accom-
plishment. Such usages endow object and office with worth
and fix the conditions under which wealth may be appropri-
ated. In essence property is a conditional equity in the valu-
ables of the community.

They observe that "if the word is to be employed away from
home, property must be exalted into an abstraction," something
which entails great difficulty, since one must "find the least com-
mon denominator for a series of facts which sprawl across di-
verse societies." Anthropologists, to be sure, would ask for a
qualification of the over-emphasis of these students on the tribe
as "an overgrown family rather than a state in microcosm," and
would take exception to the assumption that "the compulsion of
blood makes the terms 'public' and 'private' singularly inappro-
priate when applied to ownership in primitive societies." They
5 Commons, 4-5, 74, 303.

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

would, however, turn with renewed approval to another defini-
tion of the concept offered in the same discussion: "Among differ-
ent peoples personal and communal rights are put together after
many patterns; but, always and everywhere, property is an ac-
cepted medley of duties, privileges, and mutualities."

The institutional approach is thus seen to underscore the cul-
tural determinants of a non-economic nature that, together with
economic causes, result in the great variety of practices and at-
titudes toward ownership found in human societies the world
over. In practice, however, stress is laid on the study of forms of
the phenomenon taken in one civilization, our own. Yet it must
be emphasized that the understanding of economic institutions
can only be enhanced by ranging all types of economies. Such an
attack will fill in the canvas of human economic effort, just as
the study of institutions themselves gives point to the analysis
of the economic processes that have brought them into existence
and make for their continuation.

FAILURE to recognize the fact that in the course of its develop-
ment every society has devised a special mold in which to cast
its traditions of ownership is one of the primary reasons for the
misunderstanding of the nature and significance of "primitive"
property that is evidenced in the earlier works on the subject and
in most of their more modern counterparts. For here is where
the specialized technique of the anthropological field-worker
must come into play if these patterns of ownership, so widely
divergent from our own, are to be described not only in terms
that have meaning for ourselves, but also with full emphasis on
their significance for those among whom they are operative.
Firth states the difficulty in these words:

It must be realized in considering the problem of the control
of man over material goods that such terms as "property"
and "ownership," which are employed to indicate a certain
set of relationships in our own society, do not necessarily
preserve the same connotation when applied to a native com-
6 Hamilton and Till, 529-30.

THE PROBLEM OF OWNERSHIP 319

munity. The essential factors in the situation the individ-
ual, the goods, and the other members of his community
remain unchanged, but the set of concepts by which these
are related has been formed against a different cultural back-
ground; Hence the impression that is conveyed to a Euro-
pean by the simple and satisfying statement that an object
is "owned" by a certain person may be entirely divorced
from reality through his ignorance of all those rights and
qualifications which to the native form an integral part of
the situation." 7

The importance of considering the social matrix in seeking
to understand the phenomenon of property has likewise been
stressed by Ilallowell. "Property, considered as a social institu-
tion," he says, "not only implies the exercise of rights and duties
with respect to objects of value by the individuals of a given
society; it also embraces the specific social sanctions which rein-
force the behavior that makes the institution a going concern/*
These sanctions and their operation comprise the fourth of a
scries of variables "to be considered in any comprehensive view
of systems of property relations," the others being the following:
( 1 ) "The nature and the kinds of rights exercised and their cor-
relative duties and obligations"; (2) "The individuals or groups
of individuals in whom rights and privileges, powers, etc., are
invested and those who play the correlative roles in the whole
complex scheme of relations"; and (3) "The things, or objects,
over which property rights are extended." 8

The flexibility of approach that is essential if we are to con-
sider questions of property-rights in cross-cultural perspective is
to be seen in the position taken by Ilogbin in discussing the
rights exercised over land by groups or by individuals on the
island of Wogeo. Explicitly stating that he has deliberately omit-
ted all reference to "ownership," he continues:

To say that anyone "owns" land in Wogeo would in fact be
untrue, for this concept is properly applied only when the
whole context of rights is the same as in our own society.
When we hear that one of our fellow citizens "owns" a block
of ground we know exactly what is meant, since we are fa-
miliar with the various rights involved, those claimed by the
7 Firth (1929u), 330-1. s Hallowell (1943), 121-30.

320 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

community at large as well as those exercised by the indi-
vidual concerned. But in Wogeo the situation is profoundly
different allotments are neither sold nor leased for rent, in-
heritance is more rigidly prescribed than amongst ourselves,
and the conventions regarding cultivation and the location
of dwellings are dissimilar. The only alternative would be
to define these differences every time the expression was
used ... a method . . . both cumbersome and mislead-
ing. . . . 9

In an essay on the development of the property concept, Hob-
house underscores the caution that must be observed when draw-
ing on observations made even by those whose reports are based
on long experience with a given people. He considers the single
case of land tenure among Australian tribes. Here, first of all,
such competent observers as Spencer and Gillen have stated that
"there is no such thing as private property in land" among the
aborigines. Yet equally competent observers, Grey and Eyre, say
of the same folk that "land neither belongs to a tribe nor to a
group of families, but to a single male." As one goes further into
the data, it becomes apparent that both these statements are per-
haps but reflections of a social arrangement that admits of either
interpretation. For Howitt, who carried on studies in the south-
eastern part of the continent, found that here the right to hunt
over land is acquired by the circumstance of having been born in
a given locality. This land "belongs" to the tribesman forever
but it also "belongs" to all others who, like this individual, were
born in this region, since they have the same right to hunt over
it. Thus any of the numerous persons who might be questioned
regarding the ownership of this particular land could rightly
claim it as "his"; to the inquirer who might try to assess the sit-
uation on the basis of a less searching analysis the system of ten-
ure might in all justice appear to be communal. 10

The difficulty in assessing the nature of ownership among non-
literate peoples is also enhanced by the fact that custom and
law are everywhere rigid in statement when compared with the
elasticity of social practice actually found in a given society. This
fact has provided the basis for the generalization that "ideal"
culture may be quite different from behavior as actually ob-

"Hogbin (1939-40), 149-50. "' Hobhouse, 4-5.

THE PROBLEM OF OWNERSHIP

served, or the "real" culture. Even in the study of our own ways
of life this fact is often disregarded, despite the commonplace
nature of the assertion that laws may be nullified in practice
when they are out of line with customary behavior, or that where
sanctions are accepted by a people the actual limits of permissive
behavior are in practice anything but rigid. One reason why the
variation in custom does not figure more prominently in the lit-
erature is that the student who is aware of the methodological
problem recognizes that to perceive deviations in social behavior,
he may need greater familiarity with what the people themselves
regard as a proper course of action than he possesses. More often,
however, the reason is merely that a nonliterate or, indeed, any
foreign society presents a unified front to an investigator not
alive to the tendency for behavior to vary about a sanctioned
norm. If he asks about a given procedure, he is told its approved
form; where this is not followed, he may either tend to identify
such behavior as deviant or be satisfied with an explicit assurance
that he has merely witnessed an exception.

From such rigidly formulated descriptions have sprung the
conception of the extreme conservatism of "primitive" society
and the image of members of a nonliterate community as com-
posed of men and women living in a kind of cultural strait-jacket.
In reality, where such an institution as property, for example, is
under consideration, there are not only many interpretations pos-
sible as to what constitutes property in a given society, but even
where a consensus has crystallized into law, the customary re-
quirements of ownership may be disregarded when personal
relationships, difficulties in obtaining a living, or the stresses of
conflict so dictate. 11

As an illustration of this principle of flexibility of custom in
the light of legal requirements, we may consider the status of
food as property among the Bushmen of South Africa. The rule
in this society, recognized by everyone, is that all kinds of food,
whether animal or vegetable, and water as well, are private
property. This rule stands the test of usage in that one who takes
food or water without the permission of the owner is liable to
punishment for theft. Yet the Bushmen, it will be recalled, living
in one of the harshest natural environments known to any group

11 For a fuller discussion of these points, sec Herskovits (1948), 86-8,
theoretical and methodological 573-9.

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

of human beings, lead a most precarious existence. It is thus
understandable that while the man who shoots a buck or a bird,
or who discovers a terrain where vegetable food is to be gathered,
is acknowledged as owner of his kill or of what he has found,
he is, nevertheless, expected to share with those who have noth-
ing. The one who is successful in the hunt, therefore, divides
his kill with those w r ho are present, but "the dividing is done by
him, and the skin, sinews, etc., belong to him to be done with as
he pleases." As a result, all available food, though from the point
of view of customary law privately owned, is actually distributed
among the members of a given group. But it would not be
difficult for one cursory observer to deduce "communism" from
this situation, while another, having access to different informa-
tion, or merely being more legalistic in his approach, might
maintain that in this primitive society considerations of private
property are supreme. 12

Another instance of variation in customary behavior may be
taken from Africa an example which, moreover, may give
thought to those students of social organization who tend to
attribute to the rules of property-ownership a preponderant role
in originating, maintaining, and perpetuating the larger relation-
ship groups found in many nonliterate societies. In Dahomey,
West Africa, the inheritance of the spiritual qualities that give
to a person his social affiliation is in the male line, and the
system of relationship is thus dominated by the patrilineal prin-
ciple. In this region, furthermore, as in most of Africa, ancestor-
worship is an important element in the religious life. Sacrifices
given by members of each relationship grouping descended from
a given male ancestor to their forebears who, as spirits in the
other world, continue to look out for the well-being of their
descendants, thus figure prominently in the rituals of this cult.
Yet not only in this part of West Africa, but elsewhere over the
continent where the same descent principle obtains, the personal
relationship between a man and his mother's family (to which
he does not belong, and to which he is not related, from a socio-
logical point of view) can be very close. The animals designated
as sacrifices to the ancestors are contributed by the paternal
descent-group and become the property of these forebears. Yet
this rule of ownership is often violated in favor of the child of

12 Schapera (1930), 148.

THE PROBLEM OF OWNERSHIP 323

a woman belonging to a relationship group, when such a child
visits the ancestral rites of his mother's line to which, it must
be emphasized again, he does not appertain and takes for
himself certain of the sacrifices intended for his mother's ances-
tors.

The explanation of this seemingly aberrant behavior, in the
light of the concept of ownership of the sacrifice as related to
the system of social groupings and descent, lies purely in the
realm of sentiment. The ancestors are believed to be flattered
when the child of a daughter, whose father's family constitutes
his only legally and socially recognized affiliation, cares to notice
them. Consequently the violation of customary rules of property
is not only condoned but appreciated, and resentment against
what would ordinarily be held to be punishable interference
with goods belonging to another is changed to approbation. 13

MOST discussions of property, and in particular of property
among nonliterate peoples, turn on a relatively small number of
questions. The nature of the institution must inevitably be a
subject for clarification. Frequently, both in the older anthro-
pological literature and in the writings of economists, the "origin"
and "evolution" of property are hypothetically sketched in some
form or other. As has been indicated, anthropologists are most
generally concerned with the role of property in stabilizing such
social groupings as the family and the clan; while, almost without
exception, everyone who has discussed any aspect of the subject
takes some position regarding the problem of private as against
group ownership of wealth.

Hobhousc has given one of the most careful analyses of the
concepts which cluster about the term "property." In the intro-
ductory sentences of his brief discussion of the topic, he enumer-
ates the general characteristics of the institution. 14 Beginning
with the broadest possible definition, that property is "to be
conceived in terms of control of man over things," he points out
that to meet the demands of the natural environment, man must

13 Hcrskovits (1938), I, 154. \\Vstermarck, II, 2, Lewinski, 5-6.

14 Hobhousc, op. cit, 6-8; cf. also

324 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

have at least some measure of control over the implements he
uses to wrest his living from nature. Temporary control, however,
is not a property right, for this only appears when control is not
subject to challenge by others, and "a certain permanence" is
assured it. In recognizing that property can exist without being
private, Hobhouse is careful to utilize the concept of "common
property" employed by earlier writers, under which a man and
those associated with him exercise a given control "to the ex-
clusion of the rest of the world."

It may be objected, with some justice, that this category of
"common property" is used in so broad a sense that it must lead,
and perhaps already has led, to confusion in the study of the
patterns of ownership among nonliterate peoples no less than
among ourselves. The difficulty is not serious, however, and can
be met by refining the use of the terms one step further. For as
it stands, there is no differentiation between "common property,"
representing, for example, the absolute ownership of a canoe
by a group of men within some Melanesian tribe, and common
ownership of land. But a tribal theory of land tenure which
holds that the right to certain land is inviolate only while it is
being worked or occupied, after which it reverts to the tribe for
reallotment, is certainly not analogous to the absolute rights
over the canoe conceded the men who own it in common. In the
same way, no distinction is made under this definition between
the ownership in our society of a factory by a group of partners
or stockholders, let us say, and the ownership of a public park,
which all members of a community may use unrestrictedly.

The term "common ownership" is thus helpful, but it is obvious
that to apply it to the instances cited, either for a Melanesian
society or our own, would be to violate the spirit in which the
ownership of such kinds of property is conceived. We may, how-
ever, limit the term "common property" to those objects and
rights jointly possessed by some restricted group within a given
society, to the exclusion of the other members of this society.
Under this heading, we would include not only the Melanesian
canoe and our factory, but family and clan property and those
things possessed by members of secret and other types of associa-
tions, whether this be clubhouse, regalia, or songs and rituals.
We can then designate as "public property" that which in theory
or practice is the possession of an entire people. We shall in this

THE PROBLEM OF OWNERSHIP 325

way give recognition to an important category of property,
which, where the canons of ownership among nonliterate peo-
ples is concerned, has far-reaching significance.

Property cannot be defined, however, without giving attention
to the factor of variation in ownership which has been stressed
in the preceding pages and which must be recalled here. Hob-
house fully recognizes the importance of this factor when he
states that "property is a principle which admits of variation in
several distinct directions." He points out that control over
property

. . . may be more or less fully recognized and guaranteed
in society. It may be more or less permanent, more or less
dependent on present use and possession or enjoyment. It
may be concentrated in one hand, or common to many. It
may extend to more, or fewer, of the purposes to which a
thing may be put. But that the control may be property at
all, it must in some sort be recognized, in some sort inde-
pendent of immediate physical enjoyment, and at some
point exclusive of control by other persons.

The concept of property may be clarified further by making
more explicit than does Hobhouse certain of its connotations in
the various societies in which it is found, and in the different
types of goods and intangibles that constitute it. Those aspects
of ownership, for example, which more than the objective fact of
possession often determine whether or not a given object may be
considered as property, are the privileges that accrue to an owner
over his goods. Variously recognized in various societies, they
may, in the broadest terms, be classed under three headings:
the privilege of use, the privilege of disposal, and the privilege
of destruction. In the strictest sense, ownership is conferred
only when all three of these fofms of privilege are enjoyed with
regard to something owned, though in most societies ownership
on these terms is seldom countenanced. In our own culture, there
are many ways in which society, as embodied in the state, stands
between a man and complete control over his possessions. Cer-
tainly no discussion of the institution as it exists in nonliterate
cultures will be realistic unless it is recognized that varying
degrees of totality of possession are reflected in the extent to
which totality of control is permitted owners of goods or rights.

326 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

This will become apparent when the manner in which land and
natural resources are held is discussed. It will be the more em-
phasized when, in the course of our consideration of the owner-
ship of other types of goods, it will be necessary to inquire into
the question whether or not wives are "bought" and, by that
token, become the property of their husbands a question dis-
cussed perhaps more than any other when the nature of "primi-
tive" property is being considered.

All this is but to stress a point always to be held in mind that
whatever absolute criteria of property may be set up, the ulti-
mate determinant of what is property and what is not is to be
sought in the attitude of the group from whose culture a given
instance of ownership is taken. If this makes generalization the
more difficult, the difficulty must be accepted and taken into
account. For only as an institution, in conjunction with all the
other institutions that comprise a given body of custom, plays
its role of helping to give purpose and meaning to the lives of
those who live in accord with it, does it have the cultural reality
that makes it a valid object for investigation by those interested
in ascertaining the forms taken by human civilization and the
mechanisms that have given these civilizations their present
form.

DESPITE the intellectual fascination of the problem of how social
institutions originated, and the many speculations all of which
invite discussion of the manner in which human beings de-
veloped the concept of ownership and the sense of property, we
will not be concerned with questions of this order. For here, no
less than in other segments of man's social life, to attempt to
draw specifications of the first forms of property, to search out
the dawn of a property sense in man through the study of forms
of property in the "rude" civilizations of contemporary nonliterate
man, is but an academic exercise doomed to scientific futility by
the simple fact that no hypothesis of this order is subject to the
ultimate test of reference to relevant data.

The ownership of wealth may have arisen from the exploita-
tion of the weak by the strong; it may have arisen from differ-

THE PROBLEM OF OWNERSHIP 327

ences in privileges possessed by the two sexes; it may be the
result of differences in energy and foresight between members
of the earliest human community. Or it may have been none of
these; or again it may have been one of them in one part of the
earth, and another in a different locality; while in still other areas
it may have been any one of several combinations of these pos-
sibilities. From the point of view of modern anthropology we
must be content to observe that the phenomenon is a universal
one, since there is no group who live so precariously that there
is not some tool, some weapon, some bit of ornament or clothing
that is not regarded as indisputably the possession of its maker,
its user, its wearer. We must, therefore, ascertain from the facts
the variations in the institution as it exists and analyze its social
and economic role.

How difficult any other approach can be is to be seen in
Seagle's attempt to consider the nature and origins of property
by use of the "contemporary ancestor" method, whereby the
customs of living nonliterate peoples are held to constitute valid
proof of early practices. Quite aside from the question of an
assumed "primitive communism" which this student, like many
others, purports to establish on the basis of such evidence, the
question of priority is answered in a manner anything but con-
vincing. "Even in the law of the culture peoples," he states, with
what would seem to be reference to literate societies, "such an
abstract conception as ownership is a relatively late develop-
ment." He resolves the difficulty by suggesting that it is better
"to consider the control over chattels as a phase of the law of
persons rather than of property inasmuch as the chattel is con-
sidered only an extension of the person." The fallacy in this
extension of the concept of the "primitive mind," arising from
the extreme ethnocentrism of its conception, will be obvious
and needs no further consideration here. 15

The ubiquity of the institution of property has given rise to
other explanations of it, and attempts have been made to refer
the widespread nature of the phenomenon to an innate, instinc-
tive tendency of proprietorship. This approach is understandable
and persuasive. All things considered, when one is presented with
a universal in human culture, there are but two explanations
possible. Either the phenomenon must have been invented very

16 Seagle, Ch. V, especially 51.

328 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

early in the history of man and diffused with him, or it must be
the result of some instinctive, innate drive.

Psychological explanations of property are varied. One of the
most influential was that of Letourneau, 10 who interpreted the
universality of the phenomenon as evidencing a direct property-
holding instinct, found in beast and man. Yet that explanations
of this order are too simple was seen many years ago when, in
his preface to the English translation of Laveleye's work on
primitive property, Leslie said:

Property has not its root in the love of possession. All living
beings like and desire certain things, and if nature has armed
them with any weapons are prone to use them in order to
get and keep what they want. What requires explanation
is not the want or desire of certain things on the part of
individuals, but the fact that other individuals, with similar
wants and desires, should leave them in undisturbed posses-
sion, or allot them a share, of such things. It is the conduct
of a community, not the inclination of individuals, that
needs investigation. 17

The approach of Beaglehole was comparable to that of earlier
students. He called on a kind of extension of the Jamesian con-
cept of the "me," whereby objects outside an individual become
psychologically assimilated to his personality, to explain why
property is so universal in human cultures. "I think it is probably
not far from the truth to suggest that personal property is, by
the native, believed to be part of the self, somehow attached,
assimilated to or set apart for the self," he stated. Beaglehole
thus envisaged a generalized innate drive toward ownership "a
blind instinct to keep that which satisfied fundamental needs"
over which play those traditional concepts of property, found
among every people, to produce the "social canalization" that
results in the patterned form the institution invariably takes. 18

It is clear that any hypothesis that is advanced concerning the
drives that make for the acquisition and retention of property
depends largely upon basic approach. If the fact is stressed that
things are held for the specific use of the possessor, and the
universality of ownership in terms of possession, whether in the

16 Letourneau, 1-2. 1R Beaglehole (1932), 134, 197;

17 Laveleye, xi. see also Hoyt (1926), 73-4.

THE PROBLEM OF OWNERSHIP 329

case of humans or animals, is thus emphasized, the position that
an inborn "property sense" must exist will inevitably be con-
genial. On the other hand, the differences between the tradi-
tional modes of withdrawing some goods or natural resources
from use by all members of given human groups what may be
so withdrawn, and the moral and legal aspects of this with-
drawal may be contrasted with the absence of traditional
usage among animals, as evidenced by the inflexibility of their
behavior. In this case, the ubiquitousness of the phenomenon
recedes into the background. An instinctive basis for ownership
in animals can be likened to the drive for possession in man, just
as techniques of communication, found among social animals,
are sometimes interpreted as being derived from another "in-
stinct" which, in man, finds expression in language. In both of
these instances, however, the relationship between the phenome-
non in animals and human groups is tenuous. As far as the range
of form of these phenomena in human societies is concerned, this
is so broad when contrasted with their restricted manifestations
in animal societies that for purposes of scientific study the
hypothesis of a possible instinctive basis can be regarded as of
negligible value. Indeed, as with theories of absolute origins of
human institutions, acceptance, in the final analysis, rests on
faith that reinforces assumption.

THE SOCIOLOGICAL implications of the institution of property, in
so far as these impinge on the form of family or clan, will receive
but limited attention in this book, despite their importance. That
the relationship exists has been shown in innumerable mono-
graphic and general discussions where the interaction between
property concepts and social structure have been analyzed. In
this respect, the role of the canons of inheritance is of the greatest
importance. The ways in which property is handed down from
one generation to the next often help greatly in determining
what, in a given culture, is regarded as falling in this category,
and in establishing relative values for different types of property.
Among a given people it may be necessary to range widely over
these interrelationships to ascertain existing rules of ownership.

ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

This, however, again involves the problem, already touched
upon, of determining the form of the cultural matrix as a pre-
liminary to studying any particular institution or process which
lodges or is operative in the setting. In this general discussion,
we will confine ourselves to the form of the institution of prop-
erty and, except in those cases considered in the next section,
where the relevance is immediate, leave to one side its ramifica-
tions in non-economic fields.

In much the same way, the question of the presence or absence
of "communism" or of "private ownership," as these terms are
commonly used, will only concern us in passing here. This di-
chotomy is soon discovered to be meaningless in the face of
analyses of property relationships as they actually exist in non-
literate societies, but the vitality of the dispute is such that it
will be referred to in later pages. The real importance of the
controversy, which has had wide historical implications, derives
from its place in political polemic; but symbols which have be-
come slogans are blunted tools in scientific investigation. It is
difficult to see how the fact of the total absence among a given
tribe of private ownership of any good, should it be established,
could serve as the basis of an argument to abolish individual
tenure in our particular society. Conversely, the fact that every-
where individuals own some thing or things they do not share
with anyone else, and are perhaps never asked to share, scarcely
constitutes proof of the desirability, in our culture, of maintaining
in private hands vast and far-flung enterprises or valuable natural
resources.

The concepts "private property" and "communism" are too
general, too heavily charged with emotional content to be any-
thing but liabilities where scientific objectivity is sought. Our
task, rather, is to obtain a sense of the variation possible in this,
as in other aspects of the economic life of the folk with whom
we are concerned and to seek to determine the mechanisms
operative in bringing about such property arrangements as exist
among nonliterate peoples. With this orientation, then, we move
to a consideration of the forms taken by property in these socie-
ties and their economic significance.

CHAPTER XV

LAND TENURE:

HUNTERS, HERDERS AND

FOOD-GA THERERS

THE LAND holdings of peoples who have never developed agri-
culture or herding have been carefully studied, primarily because
of the challenge presented by one of the most widely accepted
tenets of the older evolutionary school of social theorists, that
in earliest times hunters and food-gatherers recognized no
ownership of the land from which they drew their subtenance,
and that not until agriculture developed was the allotment of
land regularized in customary law. This proposition, however,
overlooked the fact that agricultural peoples hold in common
large portions of their available land even land that is worked.
Perhaps because of the inertia of the wide acceptance of this
point of view, the growing body of testimony from hunting and
herding tribes which went to the contrary went unnoticed for a
considerable period. Eventually, however, cases presumed to be
"exceptions" to the rule were given new significance by the
results of research carried on among the hunting tribes of north-
western North America. It then became evident that the earlier
hypothesis, if not entirely untenable, needed at least to be largely
revised. In this manner, the older position thus came to be
almost entirely abandoned by anthropologists, though it has
persisted in the writings of those not conversant with these other
findings.

Because of this inertia, the facts may be reviewed here. This
review, however, will hold a dual significance for us, since these
facts will aid us in clarifying the economic problem of the deter-

33 !

332 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

mination of value in land and at the same time have a bearing
on the more important problem of the nature of land-tenure
in hunting and food-gathering economies. The materials are, of
course, not of a type to permit detailed testing of the validity
of such economic tenets as the role of marginal utility in deter-
mining land values, or the bases on which the return from prop-
erty in land is established. These concepts, derived from pecu-
niary societies, are only capable of being adequately analyzed
where the returns from land can be reduced to pecuniary stand-
ards. None the less, though such standards are quite lacking in
societies where the level of technological achievement is simple
and economic complexity is slight, certain fruitful conclusions
can be reached, even where no least common denominator of
value obtains.

Intra-tribally, in cultures such as those of the Great Basin area
of North America or within the territorial limit of each of various
tribes of Plains, land was a free good. This is made clear, in the
case of the Comanche, by HoebtTs statement concerning their

attitude toward the land on which thev lived:

The Comanche had no concept of land value. As herding
hunters, land was a matter of unconcern for them, being held
neither individually, jointly nor communally. One may
merely speak of land as having been communally occupied.
. . . Trespass by persons of enemy tribes meant death, un-
less it was a woman whom they cared to take as a captive,
or unless the warrior escaped by display of cunning or
bravery. "Friendlies" could visit with impunity and partake
of Comanche game without danger. 1

On the other hand, in the case of the Indians of the Pacific
Northwest, where "the economic resources fishing, hunting, and
gathering grounds pertained to the local group as a whole,
titularly they belonged to individuals." The two "overlapping
and apparently not well differentiated concepts of property-
right" involved here are explained in the following terms:

Characteristically, a man is said to have "owned" an eco-
nomically important tract. This "ownership" was expressed
by his "giving permission," as natives usually put it, to his
1 Hoebel, 118.

LAND TENURE: HUNTERS AND HERDERS 333

fellows to exploit the locality each season. At the same
time fellow-members of his local group his relatives had
an inalienable right to exploit the tract. The present writer
time and again has heard statements by informants from
northwest California to Tlingit country to the effect that a
certain man "owned" a particular place, for example, a fish-
ing-site, and that his permission was required before other
members of his society could use it. Nevertheless no instance
was ever heard of an "owner" refusing to give the necessary
permission. Such a thing is inconceivable to the natives.
. . . Actually, individual ownership in these cases does not
mean exclusive right of use, but a sort of stewardship, the
right to direct the exploitation of the economic tract by the
local group. The latter it was who held exclusive right.-

What, then, gives land its value? The emphasis of economists
on the phenomena of our own culture makes their principles
difficult to apply to nonliterate societies, except in the generalized
form already known. Though the situation of land may figure
in determining its desirability, land is rarely valued for its ac-
cessibility to a market, so important a factor among ourselves.
Considerations of marginal yield constitute but a minor deter-
minant in societies where no quantitative expression of value
exists, and return in the form of rent or marketable goods is of
little importance where, indeed, it is present at all. The psycho-
logical elements in land-ownership among nonliterate peoples,
as among ourselves, intervene in the resolution of questions in-
volving alienation of particular plots. 3 The emotional attachment
of men to the districts where they were born and to the particular
localities over which they have exercised proprietary rights, as
well as magical and religious considerations, are powerful non-
economic forces that must always be taken into account.

Thus, we can sec how a number of elements, among the
Mexican Popoluca, enter in giving land its worth. Among this
people, the value of land

... is expressed neither in terms of money nor any other
commodity, and it is never bought, sold, or traded. This
situation cannot be explained on the grounds that land, since

'Drucker, 59. < Cf. Firth (1929a), 361-6.

334 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

it loses its fertility after several years, is of temporary value.
The Popoluca are perfectly aware of the potential value of
exhausted land, and jealously guard their rights to it. Good
land near a village is the most valuable possession a man
can have, and probably nothing another man could offer
him would induce the owner to part with it. Conversely, an
hour's walk usually brings a man to good land upon which
he has a claim, and the possible fruits of the two extra hours
a day would not be sufficient to induce him to attempt to
purchase land lacking the distance handicap.

The conclusion reached by the writer of this passage will not be
surprising: "This inability to give land value in terms of a mar-
ket constitutes a fundamental difference between Popoluca and
Western economies." *

Prestige may enter as a major consideration, as is seen in the
canons of evaluating land among the Kalinga of northern Luzon,
Philippine Islands:

Cultivated lands are either . . . irrigated rice fields, or ...
hill farms clearings on the mountainsides that are culti-
vated for a year or two and then abandoned to revert to
jungle and regain their fertility. The greater part of the
Kalinga's wealth and that which gives the highest prestige
is his irrigation systems and rice lands. Lubwagen is a
wealthy region: it is said that every household has at least
one rice field. The prestige value is so great a factor in
boosting their price that the return is very low as compared
with interest rates on money. 5

From the point of view of a broad least common denominator
of the factors entering into the evaluation of land, then, only
certain points can be made, and these tentatively, awaiting their
documentation. First of all, as with any type of property, land
must not be a free good, if value is to be assigned to it, but some
sense of scarcity must be present. In the second place, it must
figure consciously in the general economic life of the people.
That is, it must lend itself to exploitation, which means that
labor must be expended in connection with its use, though this
need not involve permanent improvements such as mark off

4 Foster ( 1942), 54-5. 5 Barton ( 1949), 91-2.

LAND TENURE: HUNTERS AND HERDERS 335

farmed from uncultivated land in an agricultural community.
Finally, it must yield some recognizable return, economic or
psychological.

THE INITIAL challenge to the doctrine of communal ownership
of land among hunting and food-gathering peoples was contained
in the research of Speck among the Timiskaming Indians, a
"modified branch of the Algonquin group of the Ojibwa" and
other tribes in eastern Canada and the United States. 6 Among
the Timiskaming, the social units consisted of the families that
made up a given band, "individuals related by descent and blood
together with other women married to men of the family." They
were not only held together by membership in a common socially
recognized group, but, more importantly, welded into a unit by
control over a common hunting territory, which was "the main
bond of union and interest."

These hunting "lots" or territories comprised well-recognized
stretches of land, with natural boundary marks such as rivers,
lakes, swamps, or clumps of cedars and pines. The test of trespass
applied here, since it was forbidden to hunt outside one's own
territory. Trespassing was either punished with death, or re-
venged by the use of sorcery. Permission might be given to hunt
in the territory of another band, especially if reciprocity for an
earlier similar permission was involved. The privilege was never
permanently extended, however, and was intended only to aid
friends to provide themselves with food when game was scarce
in their own hunting grounds. Permission also had to be obtained
if, when traveling, the land of another family had to be crossed.
Where animals were killed for food by the traveler, the pelts
had to be brought or sent to the owners of the land, and the
reciprocal right of passage in this case became automatic. The
yield of a tract was not only safeguarded by rules of trespass, but
care was taken within the family to see that no more of each
type of game animal was killed during a given season than could
be taken and still maintain the supply.

The right to share in the family's land was inherited in the

Speck (1915).

336 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

paternal line. A given hunting ground was sometimes subdivided
"to adjust matters" when there were several sons, though all
those who controlled these new independent territories would
extend mutual privileges to those who had had the right to hunt
over any of the original tract. Nevertheless, "for the most part,
the territories were fairly rigid and permanent" and "only a few
changes are remembered to have taken place within the range of
tradition."

The limits of the hunting lands of each band were so well
recognized that it was still possible at the turn of the century
to map the hunting territories claimed by each family group.
This represented a striking achievement, especially when it was
pointed out that the tribes where this was done included, for
example, the Penobscot of Maine, whose land had long since
been lost to the dominant white population. In all this area the
"land philosophy" was essentially the same:

The ownership of land is not accompanied by any sense of
power or prestige derived from it, either in a social or in
a political way, in proportion to the size of the territories
or the number of them possessed. While there is a definite
belief in the ownership of the land itself, as is exemplified
in the trespass prohibition, it is the game and more properly
the fur-bearing game which is the ultimate motive in land
ownership.

Thus in this case it was the resources of the land which gave it
value, rather than its acreage, and no competitive drive to acquire
more land existed, for the simple reason that "it is possible for
a man to utilize in trapping only so much land."

The range of variation in size of these hunting territories, the
population-density of their inhabitants, and the ratio of hunters
to non-hunters has been tabulated for the Grand Lake Victoria
Indians of Quebec and the Berens River Indians of Manitoba,
both Ojibwa-Ottawa Algonkian peoples. 7 The consistency of the
ratio of active hunters to non-hunters is striking and leads Hallo-
well to analyze the "controlling factors in the size of hunting terri-
tories." He points out, first of all, that "there is nothing in the
economic culture of these people to motivate the accumulation
of large tracts of land." In accordance with the principle stated

7 Hallowell (1949), 39-41.

LAND TENURE: HUNTERS AND HERDERS 337

immediately above is his further explanation that "the products
of the land are a primary source of wealth rather than the owner-
ship of land in the sense of Veal estate/ " Moreover, "there is also
no prestige whatsoever that accrues to the man who hunts over
a large tract of land as compared with the man who traps over a
smaller area." Since inheritance rules are also ruled out as a

Name of Group

Size of
Hunting Grounds

Size of Hunt-
ing Group

Density of
Population

No.

Range

(*q-

mi.)

Av.

(*q.

mi.)

Range
(no.
per-
sons)

Av.
(no.
per-
sons)

Range
(sq. mi.
per per-
son)

Av.

Grand Lake

Victoria

64-1716

316

2-17

5.6

13-146

55.6

Berens River

13-212

4-49

14.9

1-245

6.2

Name of
Group

Ratio of Active Hunters to Other Persons

Grand Lake
Victoria
Berens River

Active Hunters

Other Persons

Ratio

Range

Av.

Range

Av.

Range

Av.

1-3
1-10

1.3
3.3

1-14
2-39

4.3
11.6

1:0.5-1:65
1:1-1:8

1:3.1
1:3.5

factor in stabilizing the boundaries of land hunted over by the
bands, he urges that ecological factors be brought more promi-
nently into account than has previously been the case in seeking
to understand this particular man-land relationship.

In Australia a comparable type of land-ownership existed in
pre-European times among the folk who are so often cited for
the simplicity of their economic system. These bands are nomadic
hunters and food-gatherers, but nomadism does not mean that
they are "unrestricted wanderers." Each group, in this case, as
among the North American tribes studied by Speck, is divided
into local units that are the counterpart of the American family

338 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

hunting band. Their pattern of land tenure has been summarized,
in the following terms:

1. There is a concept of actual land ownership by individu-
als or families.

2. A family hunting territory is enclosed by well defined
boundaries.

3. Trespassing is forbidden (with certain exceptions).

4. A district is inherited from father to son.

5. Ownership is realized to such an extent that a proprietor
may dispose of land as he chooses.

6. The family districts are patrilocal. 8

Recent reports are in line with these generalizations, though
they stress the variations that must be expected. The land hold-
ings of the Murngin clans have been mapped by Warner, who
emphasizes at the same time the religious and sociological sanc-
tions of these common holdings and underscores the fact that
they are inalienable. 9 The reciprocal aspect of the use of land
figures prominently in the account of tenure patterns among the
Daly River tribes. Among the Yir-Yoront the data, though "in-
dicating that one of the chief functions of clan ownership is the
apportionment and conservation of natural resources," also
indicate that the reciprocities obtaining here are not permanent,
for all the freeness with which they arc granted. 10 The accounts
of those who knew the life of the aborigines before disintegration
had set in, of particular importance where they are in agreement,
tend to substantiate the generalizations that have been cited.
Even in the writings of those who do not grant the Australian a
tradition of individual ownership of land are found statements,
such as one that comments on the desire of natives "to die and
be buried on their own inherited hunting ground." n

That the value of land to hunting and food-gathering peoples
lies principally in its resources is made clear also from evidence
on the Selk'nam of Tierra del Fucgo, a people whose economic
organization is likewise outstandingly simple:

Land only means something to the Selk'nam in so far as
game range over it; for the special kind of existence led by

8 Davidson (1928a), 627; (1938), 10 Stanner, 40,3-4; Sharp, 23.
658-61. "Davidson (1928a), csp. 627

9 Warner, 17-19, 40, 389-90. and n. 37, 629.

LAND TENURE: HUNTERS AND HERDERS 339

these folk and the daily round of their communal life de-
pend on these animals. ... It is because of this that the
formula of communal tenure overlying basic private owner-
ship can be derived. 12

Each group, both in this tribe and in others related to it, possesses
land over which it hunts and wherein members of other family
groups may not hunt. The pattern of hunting territories in North
America and Australia is thus also apparently found here, and the
conclusion of a survey of the literature, that "the evidence is
sufficient for considering the Fuegians as the possessors of a
family hunting territory system very similar to that noticed for
the other hunting peoples," seems valid. 13

An analogous type of land tenure, noted for the Vedda of
Ceylon even before Speck's analysis for the North American
hunting tribes, is so well known that it would scarcely require
mention were it not that it extends the distribution of this type
of ownership to still another area. Here, too, strict tenure by
families and even within family groupings is found; boundaries
are recognized, and trespass is severely punished, while transfer
of land and its resources, even within a family, can only be made
with the consent of all members of the group. 14 In the Andaman
Islands the local group "owing or exercising hunting rights over
a certain recognized area" was semi-nomadic within the bound-
aries of the land it possessed. Trespass was forbidden; and
though in some cases "boundaries between two neighboring
groups were not very clearly defined," yet on the whole the
pattern sketched for these other hunting folk also seems valid
in this case. 15 The Punan of Borneo, nomadic hunters without
crops or domesticated animals, apparently parcel out their ter-
ritory in similar fashion. For though, as it is stated, they are
"perpetually wandering in their exploitation of the forest," yet
any given band will "commonly attach itself to an undefined
general area." Similarly, each group of Malayan Negritos "has
its own recognized beat or territory," outside which its members
rarely move except to visit other tribes.

The Bushmen of South Africa may afford a final instance of

12 Gusindo, 424. 15.

13 Davidson (19281)), 410. 15 Radcliffe-Brown, 26-7, 29-30.

14 C. G. and B. Z. Seligman, 105- 16 Hose, 40; Evans, 21.

340 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

nomadic peoples who have definite allocations of land. Here the
basic grouping is what Schapera terms the hunting hand which,
possessing its own territory, exercises authority and has rights
only within this territory. Boundaries, constituted by natural
landmarks, are clearly recognized. In some cases, areas belong-
ing to different bands may be separated by "neutral zones"
forest belts or open flats or watercourses where no one ventures
except transiently. The most important designating element of
the property of a given group consists of the water-holes, the
"real property of the band." In this desert land, these are jeal-
ously guarded, and trespass is here most vigorously resented
and repulsed. Encampments are usually located close by, and
the game that drinks at them or the wild vegetable foods that
grow adjacent to them may not be hunted or gathered except
by their owners.

In certain parts of the Bushman territory, there are areas over
which the members of several groups may hunt at will. But even
here the division of the land is not forgotten, and each band
retires to its own property when the more difficult seasons set
in. On the other hand, in certain Bushman groups (such as the
Alien) a somewhat more restricted, almost private, ownership
of land has been reported, "in the sense that when a man burns a
patch of veld in order to promote the growth of veldkos (wild
vegetable foods) on it, he alone has a claim to its products." Both
of these are, however, special instances. In general, what may be
thought of as a characteristic family hunting-band pattern, 17 that
differs in no significant way from those found elsewhere in the
world among hunting folk, is rather the typical form of land
tenure here. 18

IT is clear, then, that among hunting peoples, common rather
than communal ownership of land is the rule. It is equally appar-
ent that among such folk land is valued not for itself, but because
of the game animals or wild plants or watering-holes or other es-

17 References to the family hunt- 80-5.

ing-band system among the so- 1H Schapera (1930), 75-7, 127,

called "marginal" peoples elsewhere 155-6.
may be found in Cooper (1939),

LAND TENURE: HUNTERS AND HERDERS 341

sentials found on it. To what degree does the feeling that such
natural resources constitute property persist among groups that
are essentially food-gatherers rather than hunters? The data
bearing on this point may be taken from western and central
North America, where some of the fullest studies of land tenure
among food-gathering folk have been made.

Here some tribes are found which have no sense of real prop-
erty at all. Though, for instance, Klamath families do return to
permanent winter encampments, their summer residences, while
they may be reoccupied from year to year, are not held with any
sense of vested right. Furthermore, no individual ownership of
fishing places or dams exists, nor are proprietary rights recog-
nized to hunting territories, berry or seed patches. A chief neither
owns nor controls the use of fishing places, nor do those who live
near the dams have any special claim to them. Those living near
a dam may be asked to fish for one coming from elsewhere, but
this is only because they know best how to use the site. 19

The food-gathering, fishing, and hunting Kwakiutl of the
Northwest Coast have a highly-developed sense of property in
land and resources. Each relationship group (numaijm) has its
own hunters, who hunt only on their own land. When a moun-
tain-goat hunter is caught in the act of trespassing, he may be
pushed down the mountainside and killed. Each group owns its
own viburnum-berry ground, and land where it alone can harvest
crab apples, cranberries, elderberries, currants, huckleberries,
and other food plants. The owners of such land defend their
rights so strongly against trespassers that fatalities often even-
tuate. Salmon streams, where no non-member may fish, are like-
wise owned by these groups, while the right to exploit the sites
best fitted for fish-traps is also reserved to members, whose
possession of such localities is recognized. 20

Among the Shuswap, important fishing grounds, berry patches,
and root-digging grounds were available to all tribal members.
Deer-fences were private property and could be inherited, and it
was only on their abandonment that another could establish his
claim by rebuilding them; eagle-cliffs were likewise privately
owned and inheritable. 21 Among the neighboring Lillooet, on the
other hand, "the right to fish at places where large and important

10 Spier, 11, 149. 21 Teit (1909), 572.

20 Boas (1921), 1345-7.

342 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

fish-weirs were located, was considered the property of the clan
that erected the weir each year." In some places carved and
painted totem-poles were put up to give notice of this property
right. Hunting grounds and berry patches were commonly
owned, with the reservation that in the case of the latter, clan
chiefs supervised the picking of berries, so that none would be
taken too early in the season."

The Maidu of California held that "land as such was not really
owned," since its use was free to all members of a community.
Though early reports are not entirely clear, "it does appear that
fish-holes were sometimes owned and that fences for deer-drives
could be erected in particular places only by certain families."
Yurok land "of any value for hunting" was privately held as far
as a mile or more back from the river along which a community
lived, and in these tracts rights were strictly enforced and poach-
ers were liable to be shot. Otherwise no claims were laid to land.
Fishing rights were held jointly, and "all prolific eddies" were
pre-empted, the several owners using these each in rotation for
one or two days.

It was forbidden to establish a new fishing place or to fish
below a recognized one. This provision guaranteed the main-
tenance of the value of those in existence, and must have
very clearly restricted the total number to those established
by tradition and inheritance." 1

The Southeastern Porno restricted land-holdings to those tracts
yielding vegetable food; and it was possible for GifFord to list
eighty-five tracts held by families during the days of aboriginal
occupation. Property rights were only exercised as far as acorn-
gathering was concerned, however, and not in the case of deer-
hunting, since a man might roam wherever game was to be
found. Nevertheless, during the acorn season a deer-hunter re-
frained from trespassing on the territory of families not his own,
lest he be suspected of having designs on the acorns. In flagrant
cases of trespass, the culprits were set upon and beaten by the
families owning the land. 2 *

Such instances make it clear that societies with such simple
economies as these, where private or even family tenure is other-

22 Ibid. ( 1900-8 ) , 256. 24 GifFord ( 1923 ) , 80.

23 Kroeber, 395, 3-3-4.

LAND TENURE: HUNTERS AND HERDERS 343

wise absent, may, by assigning desirable land to the category of
individual or common property, safeguard the exploitation of re-
sources. In addition, these data document further the postulate
that in these societies, where ownership is concerned, not land
but what the land yields is important.

THE ANALYSIS of conditions under which land is held and used by
herding peoples is limited by the fact that less is known about
land tenure among such folk than among either those with hunt-
ing and gathering economies or among agricultural tribes. It is
possible, and from hints here and there in the literature even
probable, that the application of a concept analogous to that of
the family hunting band might point the way to a more adequate
understanding of their systems of ownership. As among hunting
tribes, there seem to be almost no cases on record where, under
aboriginal conditions, any shortage of suitable land for grazing
existed in the territories of nonliterate pastoral folk. It seems too
often to be taken for granted, however, that the use of all avail-
able land was free to any members of a tribe or group of tribes
whose herds roamed a given region.

In pre-European times the Hottentot of South Africa valued
land both as pasture and as hunting ground. "It is clear from the
accounts of the early Dutch and other travellers that every Hot-
tentot tribe in the Cape had its own territory, into which stran-
gers might not intrude for hunting and pasture without first ob-
taining permission." Hottentot tribes moved about freely in
search ot pasturage for their cattle, and boundaries between ter-
ritories were at best but vaguely defined. In Southwest Africa,
where water rather than grass is the major problem, each pool or
"fountain" was thought to belong to a specific people, who, how-
ever, did not refuse its use to the members of other tribes, even
though the strangers might camp there for long intervals. Land
was inalienable, and every member of a tribe had full right to the
use of whatever tribal land he needed for himself and his family
and their herds, though he might never lay exclusive claim to any
portion of this territory. Among a few tribes, certain trees were
considered exclusive property. A person who dug a water-hole or

344 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

opened a spring made this his property, and all who wished to
use it had to have his permission; but he was under obligation
to see that no stranger or the stranger's stock was denied access
to it. A share of a hunter's kill had to be given to the chief as com-
pensation for having killed the game which, in theory, was held
to be the property of this leader; and a certain control was ex-
erted over grazing land by a chief who might order a given
section left ungrazed for a period. The man who found a swarm
of bees likewise acquired rights of ownership over the honey, but
he was required to give some combs to the chief and also to
guard against so disturbing a young swarm that it flew away." 5

Among the cattle-keeping Bantu peoples of South and East
Africa, who combine herding with hunting and agriculture, land
tenure derives from the theory that all land is vested in the head
of the tribe. In South Africa, "anybody may graze his cattle and
hunt wherever he pleases" though "people living in the same
area tend to assert exclusive claims over its grazing. . . ." 2Ct
Among the Tswana peoples of Basutoland we see how this works
out. Here a system of cattle-posts obtains, whereby the animals
are maintained away from the villages, sometimes at distances
of fifty to a hundred miles or more. They range freely, wandering
about the open country in the rainy season when water is
plentiful, or they are herded to wells for watering during the
remainder of the year. With considerable variation in the number
of cattle owned by a given individual, demands on available
grazing land likewise vary. This has given rise to the role of the
chief, as the instrument whereby this land is allotted, though in
no case is there exclusive allocation to any individual. "At best
he must share with a number of other people the pastures of the
place where his cattlepost is situated, although no one else may
bring his cattle there without permission." Yet occupation does
give a certain prior right. Thus "if a man builds a hut or good
kraals at his post, and so indicates that it is not merely for tempo-
rary use, he established a form of lien over the place, and can
return to it any time. 'His ruins . . . will be there to validate
his claim/ say the Tswana."

In the case of hunting, which both aboriginally and today has
economic importance, tribal members may freely utilize this re-

25 Schapera (1930), 286-91. 2fl Schapcra and Goodwin, 156-7;

cf. also Stayt, 166.

LAND TENURE: HUNTERS AND HERDERS 345

source without reference to occupation or use for other purposes.
There are, in most tribes, no "private hunting lands of any
description. People may hunt wherever they like, even over the
fields or grazing districts of others," the only restriction being
that traps may not be set in the fields of another or on public
roads. However, in some parts, where tributary peoples were
under the charge of a member of conquering tribes, hunting
preserves were known. "This man alone was . . . entitled to
hunt there, with the aid of his serfs, for skins and ostrich feathers,
and trespass by others could be punished. But there was no such
prohibition against outsiders hunting in the area for meat." 21

Farther north, among the Nyakusa of southern Tanganyika,
"pasture, unlike garden land, is jointly owned by the whole vil-
lage group and no individual has any exclusive rights to any por-
tion of it." That is, "every member of a village has the right to
graze his cattle on the village pastures," but with the reservation
that "when any member of a village takes up new garden land by
hoeing it he must not, in so doing, encroach unduly on the vil-
lage pastures." 2 * Still farther to the north, in Ankole, pasture land
was so plentiful that it was free to all Bahima herders. As in
Bechuanaland, however, tribesmen who dug a watering-hole re-
garded it as their property as long as they lived near it and
watered their stock there; but on their departure it was avail-
able to all who needed it, sites of cattle kraals being held only
during occupation. It is a commentary on the manner in which a
scarcity value of land may emphasize ownership and restrict use,
that among the Hima cattlekeepers of Ruanda, a neighboring
tribe, a developing land shortage following upon European oc-
cupation has given rise to family ownership of the tracts on
which the cattle graze. 29

Among one of die most northerly of these East African cattle
folk, the Lango, land is today owned by villages which also con-
trol grazing and water rights. However, "indications are not en-
tirely wanting to show that in the remote past land was held
communally by the clan within the sphere of tribal occupancy,
and that such clan-land was at the disposal of the individual
members of the clan for their use as long as they required it."
Both the group as a whole and each individual in it have com-

27 Schapera (1943), 223-38, 255-8, 2S Godfrey Wilson, 47.

citations from 223, 228-9, 258. 2y Oberg '( MS. ), 11.

346 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

plete rights over cultivated village land during occupancy, but
ownership in any sense of the word involving privilege of dis-
posal is not conferred thereby. Interestingly enough, hunting land
is the only kind admitting of private ownership, though the
owner of a tract of hunting land may more properly be said to
own "the hunting rights over the land rather than the land itself,
and with closer settlement following on an increased population
even these rights will one day inevitably disappear." The owner
of such a tract may thus not refuse permission to any group
desiring to build a settlement and cultivate land in the area he
controls. Grazing land and the essential water rights that go with
it, as well as the privilege of fishing in these waters, are com-
munally held by villages, and no individual tenure within this
common form of ownership is permitted. The violation of these
rights by outsiders, whether for the purpose of grazing or water-
ing cattle, or for fishing, is severely punished. 30

The Kazak (Kirghiz), who inhabit the steppes between the
Caspian Sea and the Altai Mountains, were a nomadic, stock-
breeding people at the time of their conquest by the Russians.
They lived in units called the aul, defined as "mobile villages"
or nomadic encampments, each consisting of the scattered dwell-
ings of the individual families comprising it. Seasonal migration
to obtain proper pasturage for the herds still marks the yearly
round of these folk, and many groups make a circuit of between
200 and 300 kilometers. Considerations of land-ownership, then,
arise in connection with grazing land, winter habitations, and
agricultural and meadow land. Since in this herding culture the
raising of crops is a subsidiary occupation, it is but necessary to
settle on a plot and to plant it to have the use of it; the winter
habitations, more permanent in nature, are privately owned. The
customary usage where tenure of pasture land is concerned does,
however, present some difficulties. The use of such land seems to
be relatively free at the present time, and has been for an ex-
tended period. Certain testimony indicates that this accords with
the theory of tenure that the use of steppe pastures is based on
"occupancy and the right of the first comer." Informants tend to
give conflicting testimony, however, which is not clarified by ob-
served practice.

From the older literature it seems possible that each relation-
8() Driberg (1923), 170-2; cf. also Evans-Pritehurd (1937), 42-9.

LAND TENURE: HUNTERS AND HERDERS 347

ship group ( uru ) had pasture lands which non-members were pro-
hibited from using. One writer goes so far as to maintain that the
very routes by means of which the several groups reached their
traditionally owned pasturage were fixed and not to be violated.
Within the area of grazing land owned by the uru, the allocation
of specific ranges may have been the task of the elders, or tradi-
tional usage may have given certain localities to certain families
or groups of families, or the entire range may have been freely
available to all members. In any event, the question was not a
pressing one to the Kazak, since the pasturage is extremely rich.

The precise manner in which ownership of meadow lands was
determined is also not easy to discover; but it is evident that it
was restricted and that trespass was severely punished. It is
stated by some natives that ownership was private. On the other
hand, a given individual could say on separate occasions that
such lands, "belonged to an entire uru, to the rich men in the uru,
and finally that in theory they belonged to the uru but were for
all practical purposes divided among its wealthiest and most im-
portant members." Hay for the winter was cut and stored by
workers hired by an owner of meadow land or by his poorer rela-
tives. In the latter case, these might glean what was left after the
harvest, or cut the hay from the poorer portions of the meadow as
a return for their work. A man who owned no meadow land
either would have to turn his animals out to graze for themselves
during the winter, or, if his resources permitted, would rent land
on which to raise the necessary hay, or might buy the hay from
someone whose meadow produced more than his herds re-
quired. n

It can be understood from the preceding instances how the
study of land tenure among herding folk is made difficult by the
many complicating factors that enter into it, since even where a
people do no agriculture or have no settled habitations, other
considerations than just those having to do with retention of de-
sirable pasturage may enter. A further example may be given
which makes this particular point. Among the Siberian Chuck-
chee, breeders are careful to keep the area about their summer
camps clear, since the herds must be taken there for ceremonials
and slaughtering in the fall. Trespassing is therefore "a grave
offense" which gives rise to serious quarrels. Even during the

31 Hudson, 20, 32-5.

348 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

winter season, when land is not subdivided and trespass is not
possible, difficulties apparently arise because the animals of two
herds grazing close to each other become mixed and their separa-
tion offers many opportunities for dispute. This is especially the
case when one herd is much larger than the other, since the pos-
sibility of changing the identifying ear-marks carried by each
animal is always present. 32

The status of land tenure among herding peoples given here
could be indefinitely amplified by citing more of the many gen-
eral statements which report only that people wander at will, or
that certain areas belong to separate clans, or that possession of
a certain pasturage over a period of years gives the approval of
customary usage to continued retention. "The range of the wan-
derings of a Chuckchee camp," we read, "extends from a hundred

to a hundred and fiftv miles, and in most cases covers the same

s '

or nearly the same territory every year; but any camp that be-
comes dissatisfied with its range may pick out a new one wher-
ever it chooses, the only condition being that it may not trespass
on any ground already occupied by others for the season run-
ning." Twelve of these "groups" are listed, each with thirteen to
one hundred camps; and the geographical district occupied by
each group is given. 33 This is one of the clearest statements
available concerning the patterns of land tenure among a herding
people. Yet how boundaries are marked, how sub-units of the
larger group allocate the vast territory grazed over by each, and
other related questions are not answered.

The reason data bearing on the land-tenure of herders are so
slight may be the result of practical difficulties in field procedure.
In part these difficulties, which should not be insurmountable,
have not been resolved because of the tendency on the part of
anthropologists to treat land tenure and other aspects of property
primarily as a phase of social organization. Here the remedy lies
in a simple redirection of interests. More serious is the possibility
that European control has tended to destroy the traditional divi-
sions of pasture-ranges, and that boundaries, possibly vague at
best when the system was in full operation in aboriginal times,
cannot be reconstructed as readily as those of family hunting
bands.

The urgency of such work as can still be done on the problem

32 Bogoras, 78. M Ibid., 25-6.

LAND TENURE: HUNTERS AND HERDERS 349

of land-ownership among herding folk is thus apparent. Until
more precise studies are made, however, it can merely be said, in
summary fashion, that grazing land as such is rarely if ever
owned by individuals, and that a presumption of group owner-
ship is strong. It also seems probable that the vagueness of the
boundary-lines where restriction of tenure exists is a result of the
seasonal nature of grazing and the large resources of land avail-
able to most herding peoples. This in turn must lower any scar-
city value it may possess, making it a matter approaching in-
difference where a given herd grazes, since all herds can be
adequately cared for.

CHAPTER XVI

LAND TENURE:
AGRICULTURAL PEOPLES

THE VARIETY of forms of land tenure that can exist at a given
time among a single people is seldom recognized. The problem
here is not the methodological one, already considered, of exer-
cising all caution against the misinterpretation of the rules of
ownership. There the difficulty was in proving the assumptions
underlying the system of reasoning that is employed. We are
rather confronted with the task of understanding how more than
one way of doing the same thing may be found in the same
society. It is on this, as a matter of fact, that the discussion of the
validity or invalidity of primitive communism founders, for it is
rare that a given people either hold land exclusively in common
or privately, since in most societies both private and group
ownership operate simultaneously. That the two types of tenure
have existed concurrently for millennia is proved by excavations
of Danish Bronze Age sites, where within the confines of a single
village territory the boundaries marking individually owned
strips and communally held grazing land are clearly to be seen. 1
Instances of how many and varied forms of land tenure may
simultaneously be found in an agricultural society are so numer-
ous that only a selection of the available documentation can be
indicated here. Nine distinct categories of those who have an in-
terest in the land have been recorded from the Trobriand Islands.
These include, first of all, the district chief, to whom some of the
produce comes as tribute. The village headman also has an inter-
est as a recipient of tribute, and so has the "garden magician,"
1 Hatt, 70 ff.

LAND TENURE: AGRICULTURAL PEOPLES 351

who as "master of the soil" receives a return of prestige for his
services on the land. The head of the sub-clan gives permission
for a plot of land to be worked, and the members of a minor sub-
clan, whose ownership of definite lands is granted, even though
these lands are worked by others, are likewise concerned. In
addition, there is the village community as a whole, which cul-
tivates the land about the village and whose members have the
full right to "use its public approaches, its water-holes and most
of its territory in the search of wild fruits, in hunting and col-
lecting, and to cultivate the soil," and the individual members of
a community, each of whom has an allotment to cultivate. Fi-
nally we come to the actual gardener, who, whether owner or not,
is absolute master of his garden while cultivating it, and the
sister, or other female relative of a gardener, who has a stake in
what he produces through the operation of the reciprocal gift
exchanges of taro that mark the harvest. Ownership, as such, is
thus determined by what are described as "the general principles
of land tenure, citizenship and rights of residence." Three cate-
gories of land are distinguishable village sites, uncleared forest,
and garden plots. Of these, the first and third are restricted, while
the second is available to every member of the community. The
garden land is divided into fields, each worked by an individual
or by a gardening team; for one village these numbered fifteen
fields containing between 500 and 560 plots. 2

Three distinct kinds of land-ownership are also found on the
Polynesian island of Uvea. The first category has to do with
public land, which consists of the uncultivated desert region
near the center of the island and the forest about the crater
lakes. Here any member of the tribe may gather wood or exploit
whatever other resources the forest offers. The second category
concerns village property. Where the shore is wide enough to
permit cultivation, patches of taro are worked on land belonging
to the whole village, the individual plots being redistributed at
intervals by the village council. Public thoroughfares are owned
by the community, as is the land on which stood the public build-
ing each village possessed in pre-European times. The third class
of ownership, by far the most important, is that of lineage. These
holdings should theoretically be concentrated in districts, and,
to a considerable extent, according to villages. This clear-cut

2 Malinowski (1935), 328-30, 430-4.

352 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

system has, however, become confused with time, since changes
of residence, marriages between persons of different lineages,
and the consequent splitting of these relationship groups have
brought about a reapportionment of the land. "Each lineage owns
at least one house site in a village and plantation land in the in-
terior," this latter type usually consisting of a number of scattered
tracts.

Lineage property is administered by the head of the group as
a unit, rather than as a congeries of individual units. As a conse-
quence, sales of such land only rarely occur, and tenure, which is
constant, only changes with births and deaths. Even gifts to indi-
viduals or groups within the lineage are infrequent, except where
a line becomes so large as to be unwieldy, and fission within the
group results in splitting its holdings. Tenure is assured every
member of a lineage as his inherited right, despite the fact that
the title to the land he is using vests in the group of which he is a
member. In addition to the right to a part of the land possessed
by his own that is, his father's lineage, each person has also a
"subsidiary right" to the land of his mother's line, though the
exercise of this latter right is usually regarded as a "resource in
case of need." Women as well as men are entitled to lineage land,
so that even though a woman's principal means of subsistence is
the produce of her husband's garden, she does not by the fact of
her marriage forfeit her right to a portion of what is grown on the
land of her own lineage. 3

In general, land tenure among the Ibo of eastern Nigeria,
West Africa, takes four forms: sacred or tabooed lands, virgin
forest, farming land held commonly by villagers, members of a
"kindred," or of an extended family, and individual holdings. The
first type consists of sacred groves about shrines of public deities
and the "evil bush." Such land is considered to be the property
of the deities or spirits concerned, and it is only since European
control that adventurous souls, under the urge of economic ne-
cessity, have dared interfere with this spiritual proprietorship by
farming such land. When no misfortune comes to a farmer after
two years of trespass of this sort, the land is regarded as his own.
The reasons why virgin forest is not farmed vary. There may be
more land than is needed; or it may be that its conservation has
been decided upon by the village for purposes of shade or de-

8 Burrows, 66-8.

LAND TENURE: AGRICULTURAL PEOPLES 353

fense, or to serve as a source of wood or fiber. In the first case,
anyone needing land may clear a farm which will henceforth be
his own, transferable to his heirs or available to him as a pledge
for a needed loan, as he sees fit. But where doubt arises whether
or not the village requires a plot chosen by a man from unworked
land, the prior claim of the group to this land must be acknowl-
edged, and permission of the village elders must be sought and
obtained before work is begun.

The category of communal holdings of farm land, which com-
prises all land "held in reserve for the benefit of the whole
group," includes three subdivisions. Village-held farm land is
called "land of the people" or "land held in common." In certain
districts all such land has been apportioned, and none remains in
the hands of the community, but other villages hold such large
tracts that no need of apportioning has arisen. Usually such land
is at some distance from the villages, however, and all acreages
suitable for farming which are situated nearer the settlement are
the property of individuals or small family groups. In still other
instances, village lands held in common consist only of the poorer
tracts, where nothing but cassava can grow. Land held by the
relationship groups the "kindreds" and "extended families" is
called "ancestral land," and can only be alienated by the consent
of the entire membership. When one of these families divides,
its holdings are divided between the newly formed groups. An
important element in this general category of family land is that
on which a compound stands. The household which occupies the
site owns such land, to be alienated only under conditions of
severe stress. To sell or even to pledge such land (or, in more
recent times, to rent it, as is done by certain Christian families)
is believed to bring on the resentment and hence the punishment
of the ancestors buried there. This feeling persists even where
household sites are no longer occupied; "for religious ... or, at
any rate, for sentimental reasons" full rights to these are retained
by the family that once lived there.

The most important form of land tenure, if only because it is
the most common, is private ownership. "In many village-groups
there is scarcely any land at all within the recognized boundary
of the group which is not held by individuals." Such land is ac-
quired in several ways, as already mentioned; that is, by clearing
a forested tract, by inheritance, or by having it pass into one's

354 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

possession through default on a loan. Such land is private prop-
erty in every sense of the term, carrying the right to lease, sell,
or pledge it, the last method being the one under which most
land changes hands. Rent, however, is nominal, since most often
the use of a plot is given a friend for a pot of palm-wine or a
feast at harvest time, or, indeed, for no return at all; though if
the amount of land thus "rented" is considerable, the owner may
ask twenty or thirty yams for its use. 4

THOUGH the institution of property has often been designated as
a stabilizing force in society, the validity of this statement when
it is applied to the landed holdings of non-agricultural tribes is
not entirely clear. The statement is far more cogent in the case
of agricultural peoples; yet even here it is subject to some reser-
vations. If it is true that no community lives by agriculture, or
hunting, or herding, or food-gathering alone, it follows at once*
that where agriculture is but one of a number of techniques for
exploiting the food resources of a given area, this principle of
stability will apply merely to the extent that other methods do
not require the group to move about in order to obtain fresh
game or new pasturage. Settled villages are, as a matter of fact,
almost never inhabited by non-agricultural peoples. Yet while
fields tend to cluster about the settlements of agriculturists, they
may, because of progressive exhaustion of the land, be steadily
pushed farther and farther from the central location. Thus, in
Borneo, villages move periodically with the need to farm virgin
land, while epidemics or other emergencies frequently cause a
village site to be shifted to what is considered a more propitious
location. 5

Among nonliterate cultivators, scarcity of land is almost un-
known, except occasionally in such thickly settled portions of the
nonliterate world as West Africa or Mexico or the highlands of
Peru or Indonesia. What makes for stability, therefore, would not
seem to be the fact of land-holding as such, but rather those at-
tachments to land which derive from the fundamental fact that

4 Meek, 100-04; see also J. S. 8 Hose, 36.

Harris (1942b), 90-1.

LAND TENURE: AGRICULTURAL PEOPLES 355

it takes more initiative to move than to continue routine living.
This is an important reason for not seeking newer habitations
when technology permits rotation of crops, or where, land being
plentiful, fields lie fallow when exhausted and no religious or
magical beliefs encourage a shift in residence when evil omens
manifest themselves. Whatever the reasons and we may be as-
sured that there are far more of them than suggested here it is
undoubtedly true that among agriculturists less shifting occurs,
more stress is laid on the importance of land, greater feeling ex-
ists against trespass, and boundaries are delineated much more
sharply than in hunting societies or among food-gathering or
herding peoples.

With these general points in mind, we may now turn to further
specific instances of land tenure in agricultural communities. We
shall indicate how property in the form of cultivated land is ac-
quired, how it is held, under what conditions it changes hands
or is abandoned, and how this ownership fits into prevailing
schemes of land tenure when agriculture is but one of a number
of modes of getting a living.

AMONG such a Melanesian agricultural community as Lesu, in
eastern New Ireland, holdings of clan and village are found.
Land owned by clans was not worked in former days, as it was
held to be the abode of certain supernatural beings who, of-
fended, would wreak their vengeance on those who dared use it.
Today, however, as a result of observations that no harm has
come to the whites who planted coconut trees, such land is
worked. Where these plots are situated too far away from the
village of the clan owning it to permit them to farm it conven-
iently, it is cultivated by members of other clans, who may give
a portion of their crop to the "real" owners. Should such land as
is worked by non-clan members be sold to the whites, those who
are engaged in tilling it most often share in the proceeds. Yet
"they are not considered its owners," nor may they transmit their
gardens to their heirs, for such land goes automatically to the
next generation of clan members.

The second and economically more important category con-
sists of village land. A village in this part of New Ireland is made

356 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

up of a series of "hamlets," the houses of which follow the beach
for several miles. Each settlement has its own land, running back
in a strip from the beach to the uncut forest. The available data
do not make explicit whether this land has special value or dif-
fers in the way it is held from other farm lands worked by vil-
lagers. Since, however, "with the exception of clan land," both
the extension along the sea and the land going back for five or
six miles from the shore are owned jointly by members of the
village group, this latter is probably not the case.

As so often in nonliterate communities, much of the village
land is uncultivated, and a villager may plant any \inoccupied
plot he wishes. Most couples, however, prefer to farm the land
worked by their parents. So strong is this feeling, in fact, that
though village land is free to all village members, a man would
hesitate to plant land once used by persons of the preceding gen-
eration without the permission of a son or daughter of the earlier
tillers. When a man and his wife are both members of the same
village, they may cultivate two plots, though if they work but
one, or if the man is from another village, they generally work
the plot of the wife's parents. Title to this village land is not
alienated when a man moves away, for he retains his full rights
to plant there. He also shares in the proceeds from any sale of
this land, to which, indeed, he must give his consent as a member
of the group. 6

The land of each clan in southwestern Malekula, whether un-
der cultivation or not, is clearly delimited by boundaries which,
near the coast, consist of walls built of coral blocks. As in the
Trobriands, these tracts are subdivided into plots "each of which
^belongs to' a certain kinship group," representing a subdivision
of the clan. Every adult male has "his own" patch. In those lo-
calities where there is any scarcity of land, this patch is inherited
from his father. If land is plentiful, it has been wrested from the
bush. Women work the plots of fathers, brothers, or husbands.
The rule of tenure is that no man retains more than a life inter-
est in his garden. Even though his sons continue to work the
garden after his death, this does not imply the existence of a right
to inherit the land itself, but merely the continuation, in one spot,
by members of one family, of the exercise of every clansman's
right to a plot on clan land. Land is "leased," generally for no

6 Powdermaker, 31-2, 157-60.

LAND TENURE: AGRICULTURAL PEOPLES 357

more than one agricultural year, by giving an outsider "tempo-
rary rights of tillage" in return for half the harvest, but emphasis
on the temporary nature of the arrangement prevents any effec-
tive invasion of the principle of common ownership. On the death
of a debtor, land can be claimed by a non-member of the clan
in payment of an undischarged debt incurred by the deceased.
In this case, however, surviving fellow-clansmen make all effort
to redeem the land so that it will not pass out of the group hold-
ings. 7

Comparable, but not identical, is the situation obtaining in
Tanga. The island of Boieng is divided into eight districts, each
owned by a clan. These divisions are partitioned into sub-dis-
tricts, which in turn are owned, occupied, and jealously guarded
by sub-sections of the clan, from which individual families or ex-
tended family groups within every sub-section freely select gar-
den and dwelling sites. The principle of clan ownership, which
is not explicitly stated, must, however, be deduced from the dis-
tribution of the holdings of clan members, for the native does not
recognize an area of this sort as "a synthesis of smaller areas defi-
nitely owned and occupied" by such a sub-clan group. Aside
from this aspect of the rules of ownership, the tenure pattern
follows, in a general way, that with which we are already fa-
miliar. A family has complete control over the crops from the
land it works, and the feeling against trespass is so strong that
"not even a brother would take food from this garden unless he
has first obtained the owner's permission." Division of rights
within a family plot follows the rule that a man and each of his
wives hold and work separate gardens and store their crops sep-
arately. Trees that are individually planted are the property of
the one who plants them, but other trees on clan ground are free
to all members of the group. 8

In Manam, the village-clan type of ownership recurs, each
village possessing land that is subdivided among its patrilineal
clans, these tracts, in turn, being "owned" by individual clan
members. This land, "owned" by women as well as men, is in-
heritable, so that "proprietors" of land sometimes do not live near
their land. In this event, they are brought a part of the harvest
by clansmen who cultivate such gardens for them. Chiefs con-
trol more land than commoners. The principle of common owner-

7 Deacon, 172-4. 8 Bell, 307.

358 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

ship, with individual rights to specific plots held over many
generations, does obtain, but the alienation of land by an indi-
vidual, for all that, is countenanced no more here than elsewhere
in this general area. 9

The complexity of the relationships and rules that govern land
tenure in these Melanesian islands is revealed in Oliver's account
of the methodological problem he encountered in unravelling
them in southern Bougainville, where the ownership of land is
important and the "land-puller" a well-known phenomenon. In
general, however, the Melanesian pattern is followed, with land
being held by kin-groups of various orders immediate and ex-
tended families and clans, as these are recognized as belonging
to local groupings together with rare instances of individual
ownership. 10

The examples cited in the preceding pages are sufficient to in-
dicate that the principle of Melanesian land tenure in general,
stated by Codrington, 11 that "there is no strictly communal prop-
erty in land," is acceptable if revised in the light of more modern
findings. Actually, Melanesian agricultural communities seem,
in general, to recognize rights to work certain plots of land
through the circumstance of residence or birth rather than rights
to land itself that is, they admit the ownership of produce
rather than of the garden where it is grown. It is a commentary
on the assumed validity of the wider hypothesis that private land-
ownership is universal among agricultural peoples when we find
that here, where farming is the primary occupation, common ten-
ure exists, such as might be expected in a hunting or food-gath-
ering tribe. And, as we proceed with an examination of land-
holdings among agriculturists elsewhere, we shall repeatedly find
this emphasis on the ownership of usufruct. The recognition of
trespass as an offense thereupon merely becomes evidence of a
recognition of the right to own crops, and not of the ownership
of land itself, as is sometimes concluded.

POLYNESIAN land tenure veers sharply toward private ownership
when compared with the prevalent patterns of Melanesia, though

9 Wedgewood, 391-3. sim.

10 Oliver (1949b), 4-8, and pas- n Codrington, 59 ff.

LAND TENURE: AGRICULTURAL PEOPLES 359

instances of group control are by no means lacking. In Pukapuka,
for example, large tracts of the land where most of the food-
crops are raised, are divided among villages and set aside as
commonly owned reserves. Other land is apportioned among the
lineages of the village, whose members retain the ownership of
certain portions of their allotment in common, and, for the rest,
divide it into homestead plots which appear to be the private
property of those who have their dwellings there. Trespassing,
a serious offense, especially when the productive village reserves
are entered, is severely punished, and great care is taken that the
boundaries between all tracts, by whomever owned, are so well
marked that no questions arise as to their limits. Emphasis is laid
on the punishment of trespass because talo and other essential
subsistence crops grow there. Similarly, private ownership within
lineage boundaries is based on the benefits that accrue from the
talo beds, coconut trees, "bush timbers," and other resources of
such land. 1 "

An outstanding example of private land ownership is had from
Mangareva, where individual holdings of the mountainsides "up
to the top of the ridges went with the cultivatable land of the
shore and valley flats. Ownership also applied to the sea and the
coasts." Except for certain small freehold estates, the land was
divided between about ton aristocratic "large landowners," who
leased most of their holdings to farmers. In a few instances, of
rare occurrence, squatters might settle on unworked tracts, and
if not removed, the land they farmed became theirs. Boundaries
were well known, though constantly in dispute as each owner or
tenant sought the opportunity to increase his holdings. Lease-
holds were inherited, and a farmer made every effort to retain
the plot his ancestors had worked; a man who leased large tracts
might sub-lease to others or work his land with servants. Manga-
reva offers one of the few instances among primitive cultures
where land was rented. A farmer gave the first and second crops
of breadfruit to his landlord, retaining the third, together with
the fallen fruits of the first two crops, for himself. War, leading
to a change of ownership, might also lead to a change of tenants.
Otherwise, a farmer was expelled for failure to turn over the
produce expected of him, or if he neglected to weed his garden

12 E. and P. Bcaglchole, 32-44.

360 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

or otherwise failed to care for the estate, or if he himself or some
member of his family offended the landlord. 13

Individual ownership of land in Samoa, on the other hand, is
described as being "rare and sporadic." Most frequently a man
obtains a portion of land for himself when he clears some ground
and becomes recognized as its cultivator. "A claim to new land
is easy to establish, but difficult to perpetuate." In essence, to do
this it is necessary that the land be continuously farmed. If the
cultivator does hold his land, however, he may on his death leave
it to anyone he wishes, though the ultimate jurisdiction over land
always lodges in the village group, and anyone who works land
within this jurisdiction may be assessed on his crops or his labor.
Land is regularly alienated in the exchanges incident upon mar-
riage, but returns as a rule under the control of the village in
which it is situated after an interval of not more than one or two
generations. 14

Tongan land belonged to the ruler, who allotted it to his vari-
ous chiefs. Since each succeeding holder of the title was con-
firmed in his tenure of the holdings of his predecessor, however,
such grants were for all practical purposes permanent, and in
effect constituted private holdings not unlike those in Mangareva.
These chiefs, in their turn, parceled out plots to minor officials
and commoners. Each man, as far as possible, lived on the same
land as his father, though a chief could dispossess commoners to
transfer them more or less arbitrarily to other parts of his hold-
ings. Boundary marks were carefully set and were permanent,
for especially in more recent times there has been considerable
land-hunger, 15 A not dissimilar form of land tenure is reported
from the Marquesan Islands, though here private ownership is
stressed more than in Tonga. Theoretically, "the land on which
the tribe lived was owned by the chief in the same way that with
us family property is legally owned by the head of the family."
In time, however, most tribal land came to be regarded by the
chiefs as their personal possessions. Within this framework of
tenure, land was apportioned by a chief to the families under his
rule, in accordance with the importance of their social position.
In addition, however, a family could settle on unoccupied land,
plant its breadfruit and coconut trees and taro plots there, and

13 Hiroa ( 1938), 161-4. 15 Gifford ( 1929), 171 ff.

14 Mead (1930a), 70-2.

LAND TENURE: AGRICULTURAL PEOPLES 361

henceforth have "primary right" to it. 10 In Nine, private land ten-
ure in any form was subsidiary to family property, for land could
not be alienated from the family group. It could be bequeathed,
but in the absence of heirs the family head would reallot it to
other members of the group. 17 A not dissimilar system marks the
patterns of land-holding in Tikopia. 18

Two final instances of Polynesian land tenure may be given,
the first to show how the private ownership of trees, important in
all this area, could be extended to include the land on which a
man's trees grew, and the second to indicate how a factor such
as war might act to promote individual tenure. In Tongareva, the
coconut tree, which must be planted by man, served as a factor
in accentuating "the sharp definition of individual rights to land."
Since the person who planted trees on land he occupied had the
right to their fruit, he was also regarded as having an exclusive
right to the land on which his trees grew. So strong was this
principle, indeed, that "the planting of coconuts, if allowed to go
unchallenged, established the right to land even without occu-
pation. . . ." The entire emphasis, it is true, was on the trees
and the nuts they bear, yet ownership of the land was also im-
plied. 1 "

In Mangaia, a system based on the allotment of tribal tracts by
the chief to the individual families under his control, and the
subsequent passage of these tracts by inheritance to the next of
line, was disturbed by the frequency of intertribal wars. Here the
pattern of warfare laid emphasis on individual valor rather than
on inherited chiefly position, and land tenure thus "came to de-
pend upon conquest, which obliterated the rights of previous
occupation and cultivation." This brought about the redistribu-
tion of conquered land among the conquerors, the principal war-
riors receiving the largest shares. In this way a class of large
landowners grew up. The conquered, who took refuge in the
poorer uplands, gained what sustenance they could. They even-
tually developed into a kind of half-serf class, whose members,
though nominally undisturbed in their tenure, ensured to them-
selves the protection of a powerful chief by wooing his favor with
gifts-

10 Handy (1923), 57-8. 19 Hiroa (1932), 41, 58-9.

17 Loch, 67. - Hiroa (1934), 129-30.

18 Raymond Firth (1936), 373 ff.

362 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

AMONG New World agricultural peoples, rules of tenure of the
tribes in southwestern United States have been subjected to the
most careful study. The Navaho who first farms a plot, whether
man or woman, retains possession of that plot, though with his
permission members of his family, relatives, or friends may plant
on a part of it. More than this, however, anyone who wishes to
plant on land adjacent to a field already established has to obtain
consent of the owner of the plot already worked. Boundaries are
carefully set, so that no misunderstanding can arise as to where a
field terminates. In earlier times land was inherited according to
the matrilineal principle; more recently the sons of a male owner
have been permitted to inherit. Once established, rights to a
given tract were permanent, so that even though the original
user or his heirs abandoned it for a period of years, they might
evict anyone who had moved on it in their absence. None the
less, prudence dictated that a relative be placed on land when
one had to be away from it for any length of time. Until recently,
land was neither bought, sold, nor rented, and there was no pri-
vate ownership of wild shrubs or trees, roots or berries, or
springs. If a man planted a tree it was his, but should a tree that
grew of itself be needed for firewood, anyone might enter a field
to chop it down without being guilty of trespass. In analogous
manner, pasture land might be used by anyone, but where a
range was already being grazed to capacity, one who ran his
sheep on the same range would incur resentment.

The lack of agreement found among authorities who have dealt
with Navaho ownership is undoubtedly due to a failure to recog-
nize that no land, as such, is owned, but that it is the yield from
land which is important in matters concerning tenure. The phrase
that has been used to describe their mode of tenure, "inherited
use ownership/* can, indeed, be applied with profit far more
widely than just to these people, as is apparent when land tenure
is considered not only among agricultural folk, but also among
hunting, herding, and food-gathering peoples. Asked directly
concerning customary usage, a Navaho tends to reply: "We do
not own land, we simply use it." Actually, unworked land was
in the nature of a free good, and only with the addition of im-

LAND TENURE: AGRICULTURAL PEOPLES 363

provements incident upon cultivation was there an accretion of
value such as to make exclusive possession desirable. Yet once
again, it must be emphasized that such "improvements" are not
the equivalent of those permanent "capital" changes in land that
give the term its economic significance in our culture, nor does
"exclusive possession" mean permanent holding.- 1

Among the neighboring Hopi, the clan is the important agent
in dictating the control of land, village boundaries being merely
limits within which assignments according to clan affiliation are
made. Clan lands are not contiguous, but are distributed in
patches. This reduces the risk of crop failure from floods, which
rarely go beyond the confines of a single wash. Such lands are
divided among the maternal lineages and sub-divided among the
households of each of these groups. In addition, an adequate re-
serve of land is held outside cultivation, so that a household
whose fields have been washed out or which have been covered
by the drifting sands of the desert, will not become destitute. In
addition to these clan lands, certain sections are set aside,
planted, and cultivated for political and ceremonial officers, by
working parties drawn from the membership of the village or
society over which a given officer has charge.

Fields belonging to individual households are not sharply de-
limited, but to the degree title is recognized, it is lodged in the
hands of the women, through whom descent is counted. As the
matter is summarized: "Ownership is vested in the clan, the in-
dividual women have the usufruct and also the right of disposal
subject to the veto of the elan expressed either by mass opinion
or as a decision of the clan mother/' In addition to this common
tenure, certain provisions for individual ownership come into
force when a man initially prepares land that was previously
waste, plants fruit trees on it, or cultivates beans and squash
there. This land is usually, though not always, a part of the vil-
lage land not allotted to the clans represented in the community.
The one who reclaims it may ordinarily bequeath it to a nephew
or to his son, which prevents it from relapsing into its original
status as village land. If he allows it to go out of cultivation while
he is yet alive, someone else may take it over, though the consent
of the original cultivator is required, and he can recover his land
if ho wishes to resume its cultivation. It is thus apparent that

21 Hill (1938), 20-3.

364 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

among this sedentary people, as among the less settled Navaho,
attention and interest focus on the produce of the fields rather
than on the ownership ot land as an end in itself, though ac-
counts of tenure among the neighboring Zurii indicate private
ownership, with the right of alienation, was the rule.""

A similar point of view is seen to prevail as we range farther
in agricultural North America. The Plains Indians who did some
cultivation, such as the Mandan, the Gros Ventre, and the Arikara,
held that even though a man set out a plot of ground, tilled it
consistently, and fenced it in, he was merely using tribal land.
Should he leave it idle even for a year, anyone in the tribe had
the right to take it, though "there being no scarcity" of land in
the days when Denig wrote, there occurred "no difficulties . . .
upon this point." Ji Exactly the same arrangement is reported for
the Omaha, whose land was cultivated by families. Fields left
uncultivated for a season became free land, and trespass on a
new occupant was not permitted." 4 Even among the llidatsa,
where family boundaries were marked with care and fields were
separated from one another, land that went unused on a woman's
death might be taken over by someone else, though it was felt
that permission of the heirs of the dead should be obtained be-
fore crops were set out on the abandoned field. The same princi-
ple of ownership of usufruct rather than of land obtained among
the Creek of southeastern United States and in pre-Spanish
Mexico/'

THE FORM of land-ownership most widely encountered in agri-
cultural Africa is one by which individual tenure, during use,
derives from the allotment of land by the representative of the
tribe or of the clan, who acts as trustee for the group as a whole.
This fundamental fact is sometimes obscured where a concentra-
tion of people exists, but analysis almost invariably shows that
the general rule is operative. "All land occupied by the tribe is

22 Forde (1931), 371, 37S-83; 24 Fletcher and LaFleche, 269.

Beaglehole (1937), 14-17; Lowie 2 ' G, L. Wilson, 110-14; Swanton

(1920), 217. (1928), 336, 44-3-4; Thompson,

23 Denig, 476-7. 60-2.

LAND TENURE: AGRICULTURAL PEOPLES 365

vested in the Chief and administered by him as head of the
tribe," is the principle of tenure among the southeastern and
eastern Bantu. This does not mean that the chief is owner of the
land; Junod cites an example of this in telling how, after land
had been allotted to his mission by the local representative of a
chief, this same man later came to ask permission to take the
fruit of a tree not being used by the missionaries.

Everywhere in this area the natural resources are available to
all tribal members. They may graze their cattle anywhere on the
pasture lands, all may use the springs, cut wood, dig clay for
pots, and gather wild fruits and edible roots. Only land used for
residences and for cultivation is restricted, but it is significant
that what is "owned" with regard to such land is "private rights,"
which means that such land is not "private property." It is as-
signed by the chief, and while in use is exclusively reserved for
those who live on it or work it. It may be handed down to a
man's heir, and the head of a household has the word as to how
it will be subdivided among his dependents. Here again, how-
ever, when land has once been assigned to a wife or son, it can-
not be alienated any more than the entire grant can be with-
drawn by the chief who made it. Except to be transferred to a
friend, with the permission of the headman, land is never sold or
disposed of "in any other way in return for material considera-
tion." It can be reassigned if abandoned, otherwise it must re-
main in the hands of the assignee or his heirs, and it can only be
taken away by a process of confiscation operative if the holder
is guilty of some serious crime. 2 "

As we turn to the Congo and West Africa, we find that hold-
ings may be sanctioned by village or clan assignment, though in
the area as a whole the ruler more frequently figures as the even-
tual source of a given grant. A typical expression of Congo prac-
tice is had in the following statement:

The land surrounding a town belongs to the people who live
in the town. Certain landmarks, as streams, forests, etc., are
agreed upon as boundaries. . . . Within the boundary the
people of the town are free to make their farms and build
their houses where they like, provided the land is not al-

2<; Schapcra and Goodwin, 156-7; pera (1938), 193-213; Gutmann,
Junod, II, 5-9; Stayt, 166-7; Scha- 302-3; Godfrey Wilson, passim.

366 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

ready occupied by someone else. Priority of occupation is the
only title recognized. 27

This principle is apparently contradicted by the occurrence of
private ownership among the Ibo, to which the right of aliena-
tion attaches. Yet such a conclusion does not necessarily follow.
It will be remembered from the discussion of Ibo land tenure
in earlier pages, that this people also have much land which is
subject to the control of village councils. The apparently excep-
tional nature of the Ibo system of private tenure perhaps arises
from the fact that they have little or no surplus land, so that the
pressure of population is such that a man, having begun to culti-
vate a tract, dare not give it up. We are not informed as to the
Ibo theory of land tenure; from the data as given, however, it is
easy to see how continuous rights to usufruct over a series of
generations might have developed into a vested interest in the
land itself, and thus here have transformed the theory as well as
the nature of land tenure. 2 "

The Cross River area is not far removed from the Ibo country,
but here ownership of land belonging to the "patrilineal kin
group" and farming rights derive either from a man's member-
ship in one of these groups or from permission granted an out-
sider by such a group to farm a plot of their land. The assignment
of land is primarily made to the "wards" of a village, the resi-
dents of each ward having the right to large tracts of land, and
the kinship group holdings being scattered over these tracts.
Since only a fraction of the available farm land is worked, a
given garden constantly changes by a process of "piecemeal ac-
cumulation or abandonment," but there is here no question of
absolute ownership. 1 "' In Dahomey, where most of the land close
enough to habitations is cultivated, the idea that a man has a
permanent individual title to land as such is unthinkable, and no
holding may be alienated except with the consent of the chief.
A native king no longer reigns here, but the French colonial gov-
ernment has, with respect to the land, merely stepped into his
place as trustee. 50

A similar concept of ownership obtains in the Gold Coast.

27 Weeks, 109. 30 Herskovits (1938), I, 78; II,

28 Meek, loc. cit. 15.
20 Forde (1937), 36.

LAND TENURE: AGRICULTURAL PEOPLES 367

"The hoe is the one to lay claim to the land," goes one Ashanti
proverb, and another states: "The farm (meaning the farm pro-
duce) is mine, the soil is the Chiefs." Tribal ownership of land
is translated into individual and family rights to usufruct. Pro-
vided a man continues to use the soil and to pay his dues to the
Stool from which he derived this right, his possession is undis-
turbed.'* 1 Among the Akan peoples, south of the Ashanti, the
rules are almost the same:

Previous cultivation of, and in some cases, occupation with
a definite intention to cultivate, a forest-land, entitle the cul-
tivator and occupier to a privilege of private ownership over
the particular land in so far as agricultural rights are con-
cerned. . . . But his title stops here. He can make use of
his farm in any way or form. But he cannot alienate the
land.' 2

The Lobi tribes likewise envisage occupation of the land dur-
ing use only, the Earth being regarded as the source of the con-
tract by which men are permitted to benefit from working the
land. Tribal territories are well differentiated, and a member of
one tribe is liable to punishment if found trespassing on the land
of another. Within the tribe, the land is parceled out among fam-
ilies, each family head being responsible for the equitable distri-
bution of what he controls. Land, though passing by inheritance
from one generation to the next, cannot be alienated; conversely,
a family group occupying a tract by right of birth cannot be dis-
possessed except for the gravest offense. Yet should a man have
no heir, his field automatically becomes communal property, and
may be allotted to a new tenant "as though the land had never
been cultivated." So important is it to understand this special
kind of religio-legal sanction among the Lobi of holding land
for use only that Labouret, from whose account these rules have
been taken, refuses to use the terms "usufruct" or "property." He
prefers to substitute the phrase "ground-rights" (droits fonciers) y
in the sense of "possession and withholding, under the condition
of contributing to religious offerings and of rendering certain
fixed services." w

sl Rattray (1929), 340-58. M Labouret (1931), 367-73.

32 Danqiiah, 206.

368 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

ENOUGH cases have been encountered in previous pages where
generalizations concerning the form of an institution are valid
only to a point, that to find another instance of a departure from
a rule will not be surprising. Thus, it has become apparent that
among agricultural peoples the concept of private property in
land, as such, exists but rarely, and that what is prized is the ex-
clusive right to benefit from produce raised on a given plot. Yet
it would be doing less than justice to the question of the owner-
ship of land if the fact was not recognized that the range of vari-
ation among nonliterate peoples runs the gamut from group pos-
session to private ownership.

This is to be seen among the Nigerian Nupe, where five tradi-
tional methods of acquiring land reflect the types of holdings
found there. These are as follows: a member of a land-owning
family can acquire a parcel of the land "held jointly by the fam-
ily group, the apportionment of which is controlled by its head";
or he can "enter into an arrangement with an individual landlord
(using the term here in the widest sense)/' 34 leasing land on a
temporary basis and paying rent in kind. This second form, called
"borrowing," is much like the third method, whereby a man
leases a plot "for life or for an indefinite period." There is also
hereditary or secondary tenantship, a kind of sharecropping
system whereby the tenant has absolute right over his land, and
may even sublet it or otherwise dispose of it provided the orig-
inal owner, or his descendant, continues to receive the share in
the produce of this land that had been agreed on. The final and
fifth form is primary tenantship, whereby "a landlord who him-
self owns the land by the right of conquest or appropriation may
cede complete and absolute right over land to another person."
This individual may be a Nupe or a stranger who has performed
political services to the owner; it is an aspect of the feudal or-
ganization of the Nupe state, since the one who cedes it none the
less continues to receive a share of the produce.

These modes of acquiring land fall into two categories
"(1) Acquisition in virtue of membership of a group (kinship
group or village community), holding 'corporate' right to land.

34 The meaning of this phrase is not explained.

LAND TENURE: AGRICULTURAL PEOPLES 369

(2) Acquisition of land in virtue of a contract between individ-
ual landowners a short-term contract such as the 'borrowing*
of land, or a long-term, or indefinite, contract such as is em-
bodied in tenantship and in the granting of land for services
rendered." The complexity of this system is not lessened when
one considers "its historic roots in war and conquest, and the
fact that, in consequence of this, not all these forms are to be
found in all parts of the territory inhabited by the Nupe." 35

Yet when we analyze the data from the Nupe, we find the
familiar pattern of village land ownership held in trust and
administered by the village head in behalf of its members, native
or adopted, and family ownership, for which the head of the
family is trustee. This is not to deny the importance for the
present-day scene of the other forms of "private" ownership that
have been noted. Yet it is apparent that they represent a gloss
over the underlying tradition resulting from the conquests of
recent centuries.

If this is taken into account, the pertinence of the phrase "in-
herited use ownership" that has been cited as descriptive of
Navaho land tenure is thus seen to have no less significant ap-
plicability because we find that among certain nonliterate peo-
ples, historic circumstance has extended the range of variation
in modes of tenure to the pole of private holdings. As a matter
of fact, the principle of "inherited use ownership," as found
among these American Indians is perhaps best described by the
following statement of the principles governing the holding of
land among the West African Ashanti:

It appears . . . essential that we should cease to regard
land ... as a single immovable entity or possession; it is
necessary to consider it as comprising three distinct attri-
butes, or as having three distinct aspects:

1. The land itself, in its most literal sense, i.e., the soil,
the earth.

2. The usufruct, the use to which the soil may be put; in
other words, the right of occupation as distinct from
the property in the soil.

3. The all-important fact that crops, trees, and even

w Nuclei (1942), 181-3; for do- the sections that follow the sum-
tails concerning these types of ac- niary cited, 183-201.
quisition and ownership of land see

370 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

houses, were not regarded as "part of the realty," to
use the legal phrase, or, in plain words, were not
looked upon as being inseparable from the soil in which
they had their roots, or upon which they stood. 3 "

The concept of land tenure in nonliterate societies as a kind of
"inherited use ownership" would seem to clarify a good many
points. It explains, for instance, why rent is so rarely encoun-
tered, while it resolves the controversy regarding private as
against communal holding of land. For as far as the land itself
is concerned, though it is in the vast majority of instances trihally
controlled or, where this is not the case, owned by families, the
right of the individual to retain it for his use gives tenure the
complexion of ownership. Private ownership of land, however,
implies greater rights than are generally accorded in the systems
of nonliterate peoples, while fully communal tenure assumes
that the individual has fewer rights than are found in practice.
Nonliterate folk, that is, are concerned with the products of the
land, not with the land itself. This is perhaps a reflex of the lack
of economic surplus, production thus being for use, and atten-
tion being focused on yield rather than on the source from
which the yield is derived.

'"Rattray (1929), 340.

CHAPTER XVII

GOODS, TANGIBLE
AND INTANGIBLE

THE DISTINCTION to be drawn between land and natural resources
and all other objects held as property has important implications.
Property falling in the first category, a "given" of the natural
environment, need only be worked in order to reap what is at
least potentially already offered by it. But other possessions,
whether these be tools or works of art, songs or magic formulae,
are the creations of man himself. This is not the case for do-
mesticated animals and slaves, it is true, but even here the condi-
tions under which the animals live and the slaves attain their
status are primarily cultural. Their relationship to their owners,
as to all other forms of property 7 , is subject to considerations that
differ from those arising out of the physiological necessity that
binds man to land and to natural resources.

In most non-industrial societies, with their comparatively
slight degree of specialization, the greater part of every man's
possessions have been created by himself. Thus the facts that
trade among such peoples is in the main not concerned with
goods essential for living, and that, but for those exceptional
instances where it is necessary to import food, commodities ac-
quired from outside the tribe are but a veneer on necessity, come
to have fresh significance when translated into terms of property.
In societies where every person, man or woman, within the terms
of the dictates of sex division of labor, controls all the techniques
of his culture, it is apparent that most of the tools he employs in
his daily work, the clothing he wears, and the shelter in which
he lives will be made as well as owned by himself. In every

371

372 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

respect, therefore, the resulting object is as much a part of him
as is the song he likewise owns, or a design he may likewise have
created.

As always, we must exercise care not to push any explanation
too far. Culture is far too complex a phenomenon to permit any
simplistic explanation to have more than partial validity. It is
precisely in our own society, for example, where the degree of
specialization is more developed than in any other culture and
the possibility of personal creation of what we own is reduced
to a minimum, that the concept of private property is most
highly developed. It can, of course, be reasoned that any pattern,
once established, is capable of infinite elaboration and refine-
ment, and it is possible that this has occurred in our own society
on the basis of an early identification of a man with what lie
himself made. Our interest here, however, is to note the fact that
in all groups personal ownership of some goods and rights exists;
that private property, in this sense, is known everywhere; and
that these aspects of ownership can, as a class, be contrasted
with the ordinary regard of nonliterate peoples for their land
and natural resources.

THE MANNER in which the property relationship between an
owner and his possessions rests on psychological processes of
this kind may best be investigated by considering the ownership
of tangible goods among peoples with little-developed techno-
logies, living under difficult environmental conditions, where co-
operation in labor and equality in the distribution of available
resources must be observed on pain of extinction. Two principles
are observable among them: what a man makes and uses in
obtaining his livelihood is his personal property; and what he
has in excess of his needs, or is not using, must be made available
to other members of his group.

"The first great unwritten law of the [Eskimo] settlement,"
it has been stated, "is that no one may without reason avoid the
struggle for food and clothing." The conception of private prop-
erty becomes clear in the light of this principle. Clothing, sleds,
skin boats, hunting weapons, and the like, which are used by

GOODS, TANGIBLE AND INTANGIBLE 373

individuals, are privately owned, and no one would presume to
contest their ownership. On the other hand, large communal
houses, or stone structures employed in fishing salmon or caribou-
hunting are never owned individually, but belong to the com-
munity that built, maintains, and uses them. The matter becomes
clearest, however, when we consider the cases in which a man
owns more than one of a given kind of production good. Here
the well-known Eskimo principle that "personal possession is
conditioned by actual use of the property" comes into play. A
fox-trap lying idle may be taken by anyone who will use it; in
Greenland a man already owning a tent or a large boat does not
inherit another, since it is assumed that one person can never
use more than one possession of this type. It is apparent, there-
fore, that here the concept of private property is more a formal
than a functional element in Eskimo economics. That is, though
what a person himself uses is generally acknowledged to be his
alone, any excess must be at the disposal of those who need it,
and can make good use of it. 1

The Great Basin area of western North America is inhabited
by Indian tribes whose standard of living is likewise but slightly
removed from the subsistence level. They include migratory
food-gatherers like the White Knives Shoshoni, whose technical
equipment for meeting the environment is incomparably less
developed than that of the Eskimo. Having few possessions,
their property concepts are simple, and, as might be expected,
"production and use were the determining criteria of ownership"
in the days before European contact. A person's clothing, which
was his private property, was made by the wearer for himself;
likewise the baskets and pots made and used by the women, and
the bows and arrows, clubs, and flint tools made and used by the
men were, in the main, the exclusive property of their makers.
Capital goods such as large fishing and hunting nets, which were
made and used by the members of a camp group acting co-
operatively, were jointly owned; where a net was individually
manufactured it was the property of its maker, who, however,
was expected to permit a fellow-tribesman to have it when it
was not in use. 2

Similarly, in Tierra del Fuego, personal goods those things
made and used by a man or woman constitute private property.

Market-Smith (1936), 148-51. 2 Harris ( 1940), 69.

374 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

A Selk'nam man's personal possessions include his skin mantle
and other articles of clothing, his bow and quiver full of arrows,
his knife and scraper, drill and other tools, objects used for
ornamental purposes, raw materials, traps and fish-nets, his fire-
making tools and his hunting dog. The property of a woman
consists of her clothing and ornaments, baskets and carrying-
strap, knife and scraper, the container in which she carries her
child, her leather bag, and her sewing materials. Children's
clothing and toys are their personal possessions, and the familiar
tale of the refusal of a parent to sell his child's property without
permission from his offspring is encountered here. Such an item
of property as the family shelter belongs to its occupants and is
used and owned in common, and this is also true where two
families construct a hut together. Food belongs to all family
members, but here the absence of surplus food dictates im-
mediate consumption, and the situation is thus not comparable
to one where a local group or the members of a co-operative
organization make, use, and own in common some kind of capital
good. 3

The institution of private property is weaker in Australia than
among any of the preceding folk. Among the Murngin, articles
of technology are individually owned; but where co-operative
labor is necessary, there is "a feeling of collective ownership" of
the product. Among the Yir-Yoront, property may be acquired
in several ways by "working or using," by borrowing or ap-
propriating, by stealing, by gift and inheritance, or by exchange.
The principal objects of "exclusive control of owned property"
are certain clan property and a man's fighting and certain hunt-
ing spears. Gifts, once bestowed, are no longer given a thought,
and borrowing and appropriation go on without exciting a great
deal of interest. Permanent ownership of goods is rare; that
"this appears to be correlated with the simplicity of native ma-
terial equipment" makes it the more understandable why indi-
vidual ownership is recognized and practiced to this slight de-
gree. 4

The concept of private property in goods of all types is well
developed among the South African Bushmen. All portable
objects are individually owned, and theft is severely punished.
Huts, which incidentally have but little value, are family prop-

3 Gtisinclc, 429-34. 4 Warner, 146-7; Sharp, 38.

GOODS, TANGIBLE AND INTANGIBLE 375

erty. The clothing of a man, however, his weapons, skins, orna-
ments, utensils, "and indeed everything that he makes" are owned
by himself alone and are entirely at his disposal. Similarly, every-
thing a woman makes is her property, and not even her husband,
who may have given her much of what she owns, may dispose
of her belongings without her consent. Among certain Bushmen
tribes, indeed, the sense of private property is consciously in-
stilled in children by their parents, who make small bows, dig-
ging-sticks, and other objects for them, and impress upon them
that since they now themselves own these things, they may no
longer turn to their playmates for them. 5

IT is not possible to detail the forms of property to be found in
societies whose technologies permit their members to amass
resources beyond the necessities of life. Not only are all types of
possessions owned, but they are owned in all manner of ways
and under all kinds of sanctions. Yet, like a thread running
through the entire fabric of ownership, the same principle is to
be discerned that has been set forth for property other than
land and its resources in societies with the simplest economies,
the least-developed technologies, and the most exacting environ-
ments.

This principle has been clearly expressed by a number of
writers. Junod states: "The Bantus are agriculturalists. They
believe that the products of their labour belong to them and that
no one else is entitled to appropriate them. The notion of prop-
erty is in direct relation to the work accomplished/' Among the
Tswuna, "personal effects are the private property of the people
by or for whom they were made or acquired, and by whom they
are habitually used/* The private property of the Upper Missouri
tribes is described as follows: "All clothing, skins, arms, etc.,
made by themselves are the sole property of those who make
them, and this is the only general right among them that admits
of no dispute." Among the Creek, the tools made and used by
the man of the house belonged to him. Firth, in listing Maori
forms of personal property, summarizes the underlying principles

"Schuperu (1930), 147-8.

376 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

of ownership among these people in the following terms: "Very
often such things were collected or manufactured by the person
possessing them, in which case the labour involved gave a strong
prescriptive right to the sole use of the article especially as it
was open to any other member of the community to acquire
similar goods, provided that he was willing to expend the neces-
sary time and labour." 6

The same principle comes out very clearly in the conventions
of ownership found among the Siriono of Bolivia. 'The native
concept of property may best be expressed," 7 we are informed,
"by saying that the environment exists for the exploitation of all
members of the band, and that society recognized the rights of
ownership only so far as this exploitation is pursued. In other
words, the preserve of the Siriono is communally owned, but its
products become individual property only when they are hunted,
collected, or used." And though "holdings in movable property
are few," yet "individual rights of ownership are recognized
and respected." A man owns the bows and arrows he makes,
the game he kills, the maize or manioc he raises. A woman owns
the pots she fashions, and her baskets, calabashes, and "all of the
things which she herself makes or collects." Or, among the
Havasupai of northern Arizona,

Items of personal use other than land are clearly owned by
the individual, and objects which are on the land houses,
crops, horses, and the few cattle are also individually
owned, for there is abundant evidence that a person can
dispose of these items largely as he wishes. When he dies,
much of his personal property is buried with him, his house
is burned or abandoned, and the crops he planted stand in
the fields and rot or are destroyed. These things are so clearly
his that it seems disgraceful that anyone should consider
using them after he is dead. The land, however, is not so
closely associated with the man who uses it. ... The indi-
vidual proprietor's rights are largely rights to use the land. 8

In suggesting that the forms of private property most widely
spread in nonliterate societies are those things made by their

6 Junod, I, 446; Schapera (1938), 7 Holmbcrg, p. 21.

229; Dcnig, 474-5; Swanton (1928), 8 Service, 361-2, 365.

337; Firth (1929a), 334.

GOODS, TANGIBLE AND INTANGIBLE 377

owner, most constantly used by him, and most intimately related
to him, no implication of any general theory of property akin to a
labor theory of value is involved. For one thing, too many ex-
ceptions exist to permit a generalization of this kind to be re-
garded as universally applicable. Nor here, as in previous cases,
may we fail to give full weight to the fact that means of acquir-
ing private property include a great variety of devices in which
creative labor may play no part. All these other devices can, of
course, be regarded in a sense as derivatives of primary owner-
ship, since except in those societies where vested interests and
motivations of profit and prestige make for human exploitation,
a man must either have earned what he owns by the expenditure
of his labor, or have inherited what another has labored to
produce. Only land and natural resources are provided him by
nature. Even here, any exploitation of these involves work
something not without significance in the light of the concept of
land tenure prevalent among nonliterate folk that the yield
from land is owned rather than land as such.

The principle of ownership that has been advanced is strik-
ingly exemplified in cases wherein the right to land is held dis-
tinct from the ownership of trees planted on it. We have even
seen, in the instance of one Polynesian island, how the right to
land is held a development from the ownership of the trees a man
planted there, though, to be sure, this is an extreme instance.
Of significance is the point that ownership of trees, quite in-
dependent of land tenure, exists most often where the tree is of
a domesticated variety that must be planted and cared for until
it matures. Coconut trees in Polynesia are of this type, and so
are the palm trees of West Africa.

Not so well known as either of these examples are the conven-
tions regarding the ownership of trees in East Africa. The mem-
ber of the Wabcna tribe, for example, regards his fruit trees
as inalienable property, whether or not he retains the land he
has worked when he planted them, and even if he moves to a
distant village. Nor are trees inherited in the same way as the
right to land under cultivation. For while traditionally a man's
son inherits his field, trees are disposed of at will and may be
bequeathed to a brother. In such a case, the son who succeeds
to the field may not take the fruit that grows in it without per-
mission. Consistent neglect of trees does eventually vacate title

378 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

to them, as it does to land, but in the instance of trees the process
is much longer. Examples are cited where, in villages, trees are
allowed to go on bearing for years after their owners have moved
to another part of the country without their ownership being
challenged. 9 Among the Nyakyusa and neighboring peoples, the
same principles have taken on reinterpreted form with the in-
troduction of economically valuable trees, notably the bamboo.
Here, when the man who plants bamboos moves to another part
of the tribal territory, the bamboos he planted pass to his kins-
men. 10

In the New World trees are similarly held. Concerning tree
holdings of the Popoluca of Mexico, we learn that "ownership
comes from planting and inheritance"; and no instance was
discovered "of claiming trees already growing in a wild state,
though it is possible this practice exists." n The pre-European
Ojibwa patterns of ownership of maple-sugar trees likewise makes
the point. Here an individual marked by blazes the limits of his
claim, which comprised as many trees as he could care for. He
always knew the exact number that were his, and this was im-
portant, for unclaimed trees were free until worked, when they
became private property. Trees were inherited like other goods,
could be given away or loaned, and were treated in all respects
like any private possession. 12

The Melanesian who plants trees holds them as property dis-
tinct from land, and the knowledge of who owns the trees on a
given plot is "most minute and accurate." Codrington, in re-
counting his purchase of some land in the region, states that after
the transaction was completed the owner of a fruit tree on land
acquired earlier "put in his claim, which he had before omitted
to make. He was accompanied by the owner of the ground on
which the tree stood, who testified that the claim was good, for
the claimant's grandfather had planted it." ' { In Assam bamboos,
like trees marked by a person, when small are private property,
"belonging, as a rule, to the man who planted them and his
heirs, irrespective of the ownership of the land on which they
are planted." It is common for bamboos to be planted near the
village on land belonging to someone other than the planter,

9 A. T. and M. G. Culwick, ll G. M. Foster ( 1942), 82.

2W-4. 12 Lanclos, 9(i-7.

10 Godfrey Wilson, 40-45. Codrington, 65.

GOODS, TANGIBLE AND INTANGIBLE 379

and if this was not forbidden before the planting was done, the
owner not only might not uproot the bamboos but was required
to clear a fireline to protect them when he burned over his land.
It was only away from the village, where fear of detection was
slight, that such bamboos would be torn up and thrown away. 14
A point raised in an earlier chapter may now be considered
further. As has been indicated, the temptation has been strong
to explain the identification existing between a man and his
property by reference to some mystical, non-realistic, "pre-logi-
cal" assumption arising out of the special thought processes of
"primitive" man. Instances are cited where a growing object is
believed related to the growth of its owner, or where ritualistic
observances are performed to make a tree the property of the
one for whom the ritual has been carried out. But in Dahomey,
for example, where the umbilical cord of every child is buried
under a palm tree which thereupon becomes his inalienable
property, no mystic relationship exists between the man and the
tree that is his. He owns the tree merely because his umbilicus,
which is a part of him and partakes of a certain character related
to some of the supernatural beings that rule his life, is buried
there. 1 ' The discussion by Hiroa of the analogous ownership of
coconut trees in Tongareva makes the same point:

When the women conceived, the human fruit was growing
... on the "land" within the woman, for when the child
was born, it was accompanied by the afterbirth. The after-
birth . . . was the portion of the land upon which the child
had grown. . . . With this concept in mind, it is easy to
understand that the subsequent planting of a coconut on
the buried placenta is a natural continuation of the meta-
phorical idea into material reality. The child which grew
on the hidden placental land reaches maturity on the ex-
ternal terrestrial land and the coconut tree also reaches
maturity after being planted on the buried placenta. The
coconut yields its fruit to the grown-up child and the circle
is complete. The relationship of the boy to the tree is one of
exclusive ownership combined with a certain amount of
sentiment. . . . There is nothing in the nature of a mystic
bond between him and the tree. . . , 16

14 Ilutton, 68. II, 250-2.

ls Hcrskovits (1938), I, 261-2; w Hiroa (1932), 31.

380 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

As is so often the case, the matter resolves itself into a question
of the categories drawn by a people, and of the assumptions that
underlie a given system of thought. In holding that identification
through labor and use makes for ownership, then, one need go
no further than common-sense, day-by-day observation of human
behavior to conclude that those things a man uses most con-
stantly, those things of immediate importance to him as a means
either to biological survival or to maintain his proper place in
society, become almost a part of him, both in his own mind and
in that of his fellows. Hence these are the objects which, more
than any others, he conceives as particularly and peculiarly his
own.

The widespread incidence of private ownership among non-
literate peoples makes it unnecessary to discuss a problem that
assumes such importance where land is concerned whether
or not tenure has a communal or an individualistic basis. On
occasion, the point is made that, as has been seen for the Eskimo,
commodities of which there is some surplus are available to all
members of a community, regardless of ownership. Among peo-
ples hard-pressed for subsistence, the act of sharing what is
available does not necessarily imply any absence of a sense 1 of
ownership. Hoyt has put the matter cogently: "In almost all
groups the more fortunate will, in times of necessity, share with
their neighbors who have less. Such practices as these are
familiar to us today; we are here on the border-line of charity." 17
Certainly, among peoples who live above a subsistence level,
it is often no more than considerations of customary behavior
that dictate the division of a kill, or those of prestige which
require that one member of a community share his harvest with
his fellows. Co-operation must never be construed as evidence
that individualism is non-existent. And this statement is as true
concerning ownership and distribution of property as where
aspects of production arc involved.

LIVING and inert objects must be differentiated when* the owner-
ship of material property, other than land and natural resources,
17 Hoyt (1926), 107-08.

GOODS, TANGIBLE AND INTANGIBLE 381

is under discussion. As regards inert objects, the very fact that
they figure in a culture is enough to indicate that they are owned,
whether individually, or commonly, or tribally. Faunal and
human property present special cases, however, since they give
rise to different attitudes on the part of those who own and use
them. They must be cared for in a special manner, they arouse
especially strong sentiments of affection or antipathy, and they
must often be acquired in special ways. In the class of living
property, several divisions may be distinguished the herds of
a people come at once to mind, while slaves are likewise an obvi-
vious category. The most disputed division, which most students
would no longer make at all, is that of wives. However, even
though disputed, it continues to be frequently urged that in
many parts of the world wives are "bought" and "sold" and are
therefore to be considered property, so that brief attention must
be given these assertions before returning to the manner in
which slaves and animals, indisputably forms of property, are
held.

The analysis by Beaglehole may be taken to indicate how the
problem of the status of women as property has been ap-
proached: "I will first consider," he says, "the basis of one of the
most fundamental property values of both savage and civilized
society. 1 refer to woman as a property object." Stating that
"marriage by purchase is the prevalent form of primitive mar-
riage," he says, "it is exceedingly rare to find tribes where women
inherit on equal terms with the man of the group. Mostly the
wives are regarded as property and inherited with the rest. . . ."
Insistence on premarital chastity is ascribed to a property taboo,
for "unfaithfulness and laxity before marriage may result in
property complications incident to notions of illegitimacy." 1S
Since this assumption is developed to a point where it is main-
tained that "the woman in savage society may be looked upon
as a value of considerable importance," it is not difficult to
comprehend how but a further step is needed to conclude, as we
have seen Thurnwald does, arguing from another premise and
without explicitly subscribing to the position of woman as a
chattel, that: "Wives are the oldest form of profitable capital'
not only on account of their offspring and because the husband
profits from having his food supplied, but also because of the

18 Beaglehole (1932), 158 ff., 215-16.

382 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

woman's skill in handicrafts." w It is far more in consonance with
the facts to hold, with Bunzel, that where an exchange of goods
is involved, the acquisition of a wife in a nonliterate society is
"an economic arrangement between the two contracting families,
which may or may not accord to the husband and the husband's
family certain rights over the woman and certain claims upon
her family/* 20 This is undoubtedly the clearest and most valid
summary of all those facts that are implicit in the varied phrases,
"wife purchase," "bride price," "bride wealth," and the like.

Africa is perhaps the last refuge of those who hold for pur-
chase as the primary means of acquiring wives. Specialists on
the ethnography of other areas, when indicating that wife-pur-
chase is not found in the American or Polynesian tribes with
which they are familiar, tend to refer to Africa as a contrast.
Thus we read of one western North American tribe:

Bride purchase is as inapplicable a term as can be found
for the Klamath practice. Payment constitutes an obligation,
a seal of respectability. This is the well-nigh universal situa-
tion in North America if payments enter at all; it is a far cry
from the commercial, contractual bride purchase of Africa,
for example. 21

The reports of modern field-workers from Africa, however, are
replete with denials that the acquisition of a wife has any element
of commercial transaction connected with it. Reference has been
made in a preceding chapter to the real nature of the transfer
of cattle in East and South Africa, and elsewhere in the world,
incident upon marriage. This need here only be supplemented
by the citation of one or two from the many express denials of
wife-purchase that have been entered.

According to Tswana law, no marriage is regarded as com-
plete unless bogadi has been given by the husband's people
to the wife's people. This transfer has often been looked
upon by missionaries and others as constituting a purchase
of the woman, and as involving her in many humiliating
consequences. . . . This conception of bogadi is altogether
wrong. . . . The Tswana themselves speak of bogadi as a
thanksgiving (tehogo) to the wife's parents for the care they

19 Thurnwald (1932a), 156; 20 Bunzel (1938), 382.

<1932b), 180. 21 Spier, 43.

GOODS, TANGIBLE AND INTANGIBLE 383

have spent on her upbringing, and as a sign of gratitude
for their kindness in now allowing her husband to marry
her. . . . But the main function of bogadi is further said to
transfer the reproductive power of a woman from her own
family into that of her husband. This fact is of considerable
importance, for upon it rests the whole Tswana conception
of legitimacy. 22

Similarly, among the Gusii to the north, we learn:

It is bridewealth payment that distinguishes a merely bio-
logical family a group of little significance in Gusii society
from a legitimate family, a group that is all-important for
inheritance and succession, legal and mystical alliance, and
membership of all politically significant groups. . . . The
great equitable principle from which all specific rules of
Gusii bridewealth law will be found to derive is that all men
ought to have equal opportunities for founding their own
ebisaku.' 2 *

Thus as in the case of the Tswana, it is made plain that "bride-
wealth payment determines legitimate filiation," and lays the
grounds on which the individual takes his place in the social
network in which his life is lived. 24

From across the continent the testimony of another student
of African law is in full accordance with this. Concerning "wife
purchase" among the Ibo, Meek states that "it is hardly necessary
to remind readers that this well-established term does not imply
that a wife is purchased from her parents and becomes a mere
chattel of her husband." Its main purpose "is to regularize and
give permanence to the union of a man and woman, and so to
distinguish marriage and the foundation of a family from a mere
paramour relationship and the promiscuous begetting and rear-
ing of children." Its other functions all tend toward stabilizing
the marriage, and none of them is economic indeed, some of
them are distinctly to the contrary, since should it become neces-
sary to refund what has been given, the family of the bride might
easily suffer serious financial embarrassment 2 ' Fortes has demon-

22 Schapcra ( 1938), 138-9. cattle pen of the head of the house-
2;< Mayer, 4. Ebisaku is the plural hold, and hence stands for the line-
form of egesaku, the name for the age with its legal issue,
door of the traditional Gusii living- 24 Ibid., 64.
house that opens into the central 25 Meek, 266.

384 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

strated how, among the Tallensi, though it is said that "a man
owns his wife, has he not bought her?" to call a married woman
a chattel would bring on a prompt denial. The concept "to own'*
means that the man has authority over his wife and is responsible
for her. Analysis of the economics of the household demonstrates
the reciprocal nature of the claims spouses have on one another. 2 "
The idea that brides are bought in West Africa was perhaps
most adequately reduced to proper proportion when a sophisti-
cated Dahomean inquired whether or not the French institution
of the dowry did not imply that the father gives a dot to purchase
a husband for his daughter." 7

The fact of the matter is that the economic position of women,
like other facets of culture, can be placed in proper cross-cultural
perspective only by an empirical analysis of the facts. A priori
assumptions and accepted semantic orientations must be sub-
jected to scrutiny in the light of the interplay of personal rela-
tionships in a given society. "The Malays are Moslems," we
learn of the fishing people of Kelantan, "but this does not prevent
the women from playing an extremely important role in the
social system." Of 101 women whose economic status was studied,
it was found that "approximately half follow . . . occupations
for a definite livelihood of their own, with or without dependents
to support, whereas approximately half are engaged in supple-
menting their husbands' incomes." The implications of this are
significant: ". . . in most cases here it is the desire not for sub-
sistence, but for a higher standard of living, which impels them
to work, and with this in a number of cases is associated the
desire for some independence of action and income." Even where
fishermen are the primary earners, their money is given to the
women "both to spend and to save." To this people, this is as it
should be "for who should guard the money when we are away
all day, if not the woman?" 2H

IF WOMEN are not property at all, slaves in many nonliterate
societies may be regarded as what, in the case of the Lango of

20 Fortes (1949), 101-04. 28 Rosemary Firth, 17-23.

^Herskovits (1938), I, 85.

GOODS, TANGIBLE AND INTANGIBLE 385

East Africa, has been termed limited property. As a matter of
fact, the ownership of slaves is here so limited that the lot of the
slave is almost indistinguishable from that of the freeman. On
the payment of the usual dowry an enslaved girl is given in
marriage by her captor, who stands in the place of a parent to
her, and her only disability is that in the event of continued
conflict with her husband she has no family to summon to her
aid. Male slaves are usually adopted by their owners; they marry
Lango wives and are in no way discriminated against. 29

Farther south, among the Wabena, slaves were war captives,
criminals, debtors, and the children of slaves. The family life
of a slave was disturbed only on the death of a master, when,
through the processes of inheritance, the group to which he
belonged might be broken up; but this was avoided wherever
possible by arrangement between the heirs. To sell a slave
needed the consent of the owner's tribal superior, and to obtain
this an important reason, such as the need to liquidate a press-
ing debt, had to be given. If cruelly treated, a slave could be
awarded by a chief to a new master. A slave could sue in the
courts, though this seldom occurred, since to win, the evidence
had to be overwhelmingly in his favor, and he was exposed to
the vinclictivencss of his master if he lost. The economic advan-
tage in owning slaves was that the owner profited from their
labor; yet a slave worked no harder than did free young men
under the prevailing matrilocal system of residence. Slaves might
even own slaves, and an}- other property they might have on
their death was inherited in the same way as was that of freemen;
and, what is of paramount importance in the native conception
of status, they were also accorded as careful burial as freemen.
They did labor under two serious disabilities, however, for a
slave, if so ordered, was required to submit to the poison ordeal
in place of his master; while at the death of a tribal chief, one
male and one female slave had to accompany his spirit to the
next world. 30 The same sort of slavery prevailed in Uganda and
the Congo, where, if anything, slaves were more favorably situ-
ated than among the Wabena. 31

A similar picture is painted of slavery among the Ibo for the
period preceding European occupation. A member of the tribe

20 Driberg ( 1923), 173. 8l Roscoe, 14; Weeks, 110, 112 ff.;

30 Culwick, ibid., 133-7. Cureau, 149, 155.

386 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

might be enslaved for infractions of recognized customs, or if he
fell in the class of "children whom the group did not consider as
normal human beings" and had been born with or developed some
unusual physical or physiological trait. Inability to pay debts
was cause for selling a man, or he might be taken and sold as a
result of a political struggle for power. A stranger trader or
traveller or even a child of a neighboring family might be
kidnapped and disposed of to slavers. Slaves were utilized in
farming and trading and might be sacrificed at the funeral of a
powerful slaveholder. They served as conspicuous evidence of
wealth and they were at times dedicated to the service of a diety.
The slave could not marry a free person, nor could he become
free by his own efforts; and he was without any of the civil
rights accorded free I bo. However, his economic position might
become most advantageous, and "many slaves determinedly
utilized their capabilities ... to achieve a position of wealth
and consequent power which would compensate for their dis-
abilities as members of the lowest caste/' 32

This type of what is called household slavery is characteristic
of most forms of human ownership among nonliterate peoples.
Slaves, as in the instances cited or among the Lobi people, are
members of the family; or, as among the Yurok of California, the
number of slaves owned by any one family is so small that the
personal element in their supervision bulks large. Even where,
as among the Flathead Indians, the lot of the slave was far from
enviable, the children born to a female slave might take the
social position of the free father. The lower Chinook owned slaves
in considerable numbers, but these made their homes in the same
quarters as their masters; "their opinions were often sought;
their ridicule was deeply felt/' In some instances, as in certain
Amazonian tribes, a male slave was eventually accorded full
membership in the tribe, except that "the chief would consider
that he had a lien of sorts on such a man, and this would be com-
muted by payment of perhaps half his shooting bag, probably
until the time that he married/' 3a

It is difficult to evaluate the economic advantage that accrued
from slavery of this kind. There was, indeed, another hand in
the fields or at the traps, but the slave had to be watched so that

82 J. S. Harris (1942a), passim. bcr, 32; Turncy-High, 131; Ray,
33 Labouret (1931), 373-5; Kroe- 51-3; Whiff en, 69-70.

GOODS, TANGIBLE AND INTANGIBLE 387

he did not escape, and, at all events, there was another mouth
to feed. This is no negligible factor where, as among the East
African Bachiga, slaves produced little more than they consumed
and were rarely discriminated against in terms of the tribal
standard of living. 34 Profit did accrue from slavery where there
was a large market for slaves, as in West Africa while the New
World slave-trade flourished, or in East Africa while Arabia
was an available market, but these conditions were in no way
typical. To be sure, among certain tribes, such as the Maori,
"the economic value of the slave to the community was consider-
able," since slavery permitted the necessary social leisure to
enable others "to develop the finer arts of life"; yet this is one of
the few instances on record in the nonliterate world where such
an attitude, reminiscent of the point of view of the Greeks of
classical Athens toward slavery, has been noted. 35 In other ex-
ceptional nonliterate cultures, such as Dahomey, where mass
slavery obtained and the master profited from slave labor on the
plantations, an economic advantage is clearly to be seen, but in
the majority of nonliterate societies, the economic gains from
slavery must have been slight indeed.

Considered as property, then, a survey of slavery in these non-
industrial cultures indicates that whatever the manner of ac-
quisition of slaves, and whatever the work required of them,
their status as human beings invaded to a considerable extent
their status as property. As a result, some limitations on free use
and on unrestricted right of disposal were always present, and in
many communities this operated eventually to take slaves out
of the category of property, or at least to mark them off from
other forms of property.

THE DATA on the role of the larger domesticated animals as
property are as sparse as is the information on the land-holdings
of herding folk. Concern with the purely sociological aspects of
ownership of herds, as manifested in their inheritance, their
place in ceremonial exchange, and the like, marks reports on the
life of such folk to the neglect of the strictly economic aspects
34 Edol (1937), 142. M Firth, ibid., 201-04.

388 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

of this ownership. A further difficulty is presented by conventions
that obscure the actual possession of animals, whereby the herds
of relatives are pooled and cared for according to the dictates
of a family elder.

An example of such pseudo group ownership is to be found
among the Siberian Koryak. Every individual has his own rein-
deer, marked by a special notch cut into the ears of his animals.
One or two fawns are set aside for each child at birth, and the
natural increase gives the recipient, when grown, either a herd
of his own or the beginnings of one.

Of course, the original herd belongs to the father; but con-
sidering that each child has its own reindeer, and that the
wife and daughters-in-law retain as their property the rein-
deer which they brought in marriage, the whole herd of a
large family belongs to a group of interrelated proprietors,
under the direction of the eldest male/''

The ownership of the Kazak herds in Turkestan was similar:

Cattle were all held in the individual ownership of members
of the group, usually by male heads of families. There is
some indication, however, to suggest that they could be
considered as belonging to the family as a whole but held
in trust and utilized for their benefit by its head. Such a
situation, for example, might be implied by the right of sons
to demand from their father a portion of his animals on
coming of age.' 7

Little is known of the size of herds held by nonlitcrate folk.
This is perhaps because these herders arc not accustomed to
think in terms of numbers, but in many instances consider their
animals as individuals, each having its own name and special
attributes. Such a disregard for numbers characterizes the rele-
vant attitudes of the Chuckchee, who are reported as not caring
a great deal how many animals they have in their herds, show-
ing concern only for the more important animals, such as the
breeding-bucks, the harness reindeer, old dams, and the like. 3M
Taboos against counting, or reluctance to reveal numbers to a

M Jochelson, 747. Bogoras ( 1904 ), 51.

37 Hudson, 31.

GOODS, TANGIBLE AND INTANGIBLE 389

stranger, also often make it difficult to obtain quantitative data,
as was the case in connection with a detailed study of the place
of cattle among the East African Nuer, where only a limited
amount of enumeration was possible. This count showed, how-
ever, that though herds were smaller than in previous years
because of repeated attacks of rinderpest, yet one village pos-
sessed 165 head, or an average of some 11 head per household,
in addition to some 6 sheep or goats; in another village, eleven
byres housed 76 "adult cattle," 20 calves, 33 sheep and goats,
or an average of 8.7 cattle and 3 sheep and goats per family.
At one camp a group of fifty-five men and boys herded about
100 head. This gives an average of approximately 2 head per
male, or of about 10 head of cattle and 5 goats and sheep to a
byre. Since each byre belongs to a group of about eight persons,
the per capita of cattle for the Nuer is slightly more than one
head per person that is, "the cattle population . . . does not
greatly exceed the human population." 39

Among these same people, whose cattle figure so importantly
in the economy twenty-five uses of the "bodies or bodily
products of cattle" are noted it is striking to remark how non-
economic factors enter into every aspect of their ownership,
though they are in no sense sentimental about their animals and
value them entirely on the basis of utility. None the less, their
preoccupation with their herds is intense. As it is put: "He who
wishes to live or understand their social life must first master
a vocabulary referring to cattle and to the life of the herds."
The cattle play an important part in determining affinal relation-
ships, and many disputes arise over their disposal. Such facts
as these, and the manner in which they enter into the religious
life together with their essential place in various rituals, all
differentiate them from other kinds of property among this
people. 40 Whether this is characteristic of herding cultures in
other areas cannot be said. But the importance of the problem,
as indicating the manner in which economic and non-economic
phenomena are intimately related, and particularly as showing
how considerations of a non-economic nature can invade the
immediate advantages to be derived from following an economic
path of least resistance, must be obvious.

30 Evans-Pritchard (1937-8), 244. * Ibid., Part II, passim.

390 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

THAT intangibles can be important as property is a common-
place in our own culture, for many valuable businesses have been
reared on foundations no more substantial than a patented proc-
ess, a copyrighted trade-name, and a subsequent accretion of
goodwill. It is also evident that intangibles have an importance
in the dynamics of the economic life of non-industrialized peoples
equal to their place in our own economy, especially where land
tenure is involved. Many instances of other kinds of intangibles
held as property by nonliterate peoples, much as we hold patents
and copyright, have been given. Bunzel, in a brief passage, ex-
tends this by indicating that these rights form the basis of mo-
nopolistic production, and stresses their role in the establishment
and maintenance of class and caste divisions. To apply the term
"monopolistic" to those techniques restricted to certain groups
found within nonliterate cultures would seem to be stretching the
meaning of the word farther than is desirable in the light of its
implications in terms of the monopolistic controls our own so-
ciety knows. The point raised is none the less a suggestive lead
for more detailed investigation. 41

Many instances of intangible property are available, some of
which may be mentioned. The crest rights of the Indians of the
Northwest Coast of North America are well known. Here, as has
been pointed out many times, a name must be validated by an ex-
penditure of economic goods subsequently returned to the holder
through the enhancement of his wealth as well as his social posi-
tion, the two being inseparable. 42 A great variety of Nootka
topati have been observed those 'Various kinds of ceremonially
recognized property . . . whose use is restricted to a given
family and is subject to certain principles of ownership, inherit-
ance, and transfer." 43 The topati include knowledge of family
legends, which are transmitted like other property to the holders'
heirs, a ritual for spearing fish which is more freely owned and
thus available as a gift at the owner's will, names of many kinds
that are exclusively held and applicable at the pleasure of the
owner, rights to carve certain designs on totem-poles and grave-

41 Bunzel, 348-9. 48 Sapir and Swadesh, note to p.

42 Boas (1916), 500 ff. 222.

GOODS, TANGIBLE AND INTANGIBLE 391

posts, to sing certain songs, to dance certain dances, and many
other rights of a highly specialized ceremonial nature, such as the
privilege of performing certain minute portions of fixed rituals.
The specialization of the "functional families" among the Patwin
of California was almost entirely based on the rights to pursue
their specialties because these were owned as property by each
family. 44 Among the Ojibwa, such intangibles as dances, the
power to doctor, hunt, fish, divine, make war, gamble, and give
names are obtained through dream experience, the dream being
"the most highly personal property" and of the greatest value. 45

Membership in the Melanesian men's societies is a valuable
asset that can only be acquired through the expenditure of con-
siderable wealth. In Malekula, entrance into a grade of the
Nimanghi society necessitates large payments which are re-
garded as purchasing the privileges and outward ornamental
marks of a given rank. 40 Many intangibles are held valuable by
the Samoans. Thus, as an instance, one family in Satupaitea,
Savaii,

has a monopoly or patent right over the very crude malauli
hook made from a fish bone tied at an angle to a piece of
wood. Anyone wishing to fish for malauli with such a hook
made his request with an accompanying present to the head
of the Nun family.

Trade-marks are important, and should a builder use the sign of
a society other than his own, he is reported to the guild and, if
found guilty, is fined. Sometimes when a chief cannot afford to
have his house finished all at once, he will employ different
builders at different times. In one such case, at least, a marker
was used by the second builder to distinguish his work from that
of the first, to draw attention to his neater work "and to thus
advertise himself." 47 In the Marquesas, personal names were
family property; in Mangaia the incantations employed by a man
to give him success were carefully treasured and transmitted to
his son; while in Niue, songs, charms, names, and family tradi-
tions were important elements in family wealth. 48

The exclusive rights to their calling held by iron-workers,

44 Mt'Krrn, 254-7. 47 Hiroa ( 1930), 86, 89-90, 522.

45 Landes, 109 if. Handy (1923), 87; Hiroa

46 Deacon, 373. (1934), 148; Loeb, 67.

392 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

especially in East Africa, have been commented on many times;
not so well known are some of the intangibles valued in other
parts of the continent. In Dahomey and elsewhere in West Africa,
magic charms, when purchased, become the property of the
buyer. Each charm carries the knowledge of its composition and
of the formulae that actuate it, and this is quite as valuable as the
actual outer manifestation of the power or protection desired by
the purchaser. For this knowledge, once acquired, can be resold
without any spiritual loss to an owner of a charm. Hence while
there is a guild of professional practitioners of magic, what a man
knows concerning a charm he counts as his property and he
benefits economically from his right to sell it to others. 49 Titles
are valuable economic goods all through West Africa. Thus
among the Ibo of Nigeria, a title can only be obtained by the
expenditure of much valuable goods. Once bought, it confers
not only social position but economic advantages as well. 50

49 Herskovits (1938), I, 81-2; II, 50 Meck, 165 ff.
263.

PART V

THE ECONOMIC SURPLUS

CHAPTER XVIII

POPULATION SIZE,

ECONOMIC SURPLUS

AND SOCIAL LEISURE

IT HAS become apparent that non-industrial peoples are by no
means incapable of producing an excess of goods over the mini-
mum demands of necessity, even though possessing technical
equipment and economic systems that tend to leave the output of
their productive processes much nearer the level of subsistence
and survival than is the case in the industrialized societies of
Europe and America. The very fact that means of effectuating
the circulation of goods within and between tribes do exist sig-
nifies that something more than just enough to feed, clothe, and
shelter a people is available. Such phenomena as the delayed
exchange of goods on a ceremonial basis, or the extension of
credit by one tribesman to another, show that not only entire
groups, but individuals within these groups possess a surplus over
immediate need. The existence of property and the recognition of
wealth in themselves offer a further demonstration, if one is
needed, that an economic reserve is at hand when requirements
of survival or the desire to establish or maintain prestige dictate
its use.

This being the case, the problems of the degree to which such
surpluses over subsistence needs are found in various societies,
and their manner of disposal as indicating certain ways in which
satisfactions are maximized, come to the fore as among the most
important elements in the study of the economics of nonliter-
ate peoples. In studies of the Euroamerican economy, whether of

395

396 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

the more conventional order or made from the institutionalist
point of view, these alternatives are recognized as being present,
at least by implication. Yet a knowledge of how the economic
surplus is allocated in terms of alternative uses is basic to any at-
tempt, in any culture, to assess the limits of economic inequality;
for our own culture, the matter is vital in all efforts to understand
the social disequilibrium arising out of this inequality.

In what size populations, we may ask, and within what limits
of productivity does an economic surplus appear? In those socie-
ties existing above a subsistence level, what disposition is made
of the goods in excess of the demands of survival? To what ex-
tent does this excess widen the range of uses for satisfying new
wants, in terms of new social orientations? Does it go toward
raising the standard of living of the entire community? Is it con-
centrated in the hands of a few persons? When it is thus concen-
trated, what disposal is made of it by its possessors? What is the
manner of life of those who do not participate in its distribution?

Because of the complexity of our own economic organization,
it is difficult, if not impossible, to obtain a clear view of the
operation of these forces. Here, consequently, perhaps more
than in any other aspect of economics, recourse to the materials
from nonliterate societies is of immediate significance. For if
these questions are familiar to us as a result of unsatisfactory at-
tempts to understand their implications for our own life, it may
be suggested that they may with profit be taken into the labora-
tory of the social scientist. Here they can be studied in terms
of their variation under differing conditions of life, different his-
torical antecedents, in different-sized groups and under variously
equipped technologies. In this way, their analysis may conceiv-
ably lead to a more objective reconsideration of analogous phe-
nomena in our culture.

The one significant attempt to analyze the distribution of the
economic surplus on a comparative basis is that made by Thor-
stein Veblen. 1 Writing at the turn of the twentieth century,
Veblen took certain positions with regard to psychological and
ethnological theory that definitely "date" these aspects of his
work, especially where he concerns himself with instinctivist psy-
chology and the classification of cultures according to an evolu-
tionary scheme. Attention has already been drawn to the un-
(1915), passim.

POPULATION, SURPLUS AND LEISURE 397

tenability of such a concept as the "instinct of workmanship."
In the same way, the "stages" of society Veblen took over from
Lewis H. Morgan savagery, lower and higher barbarism, and
the like and the attempt to indicate a unilinear scheme of de-
velopment for the leisure-class institutions which he treated, are
today quite outmoded.

None the less, it was Veblen's genius to be able to penetrate
through the evanescent quality of his supporting theses to the
hard core of tenable postulate. It is quite possible to rephrase his
"instinct of workmanship" as a principle having to do with the
pleasurable identification of a craftsman with the product of his
labor, accompanied by a drive toward perfection that often re-
sults in virtuosity. It is in similar fashion possible to read "degree
of complexity of economic organization" for Veblen's "evolution-
ary stage" and thus bring his assumptions into line with present-
clay knowledge. It is in this more acceptable sense that Veblen's
concepts will be employed in our attempt, in this and succeeding
chapters, to understand and document the manner in which the
economic surplus is distributed in nonliterate societies, and how,
transmuted into social leisure, it makes for the development and
maintenance of those differentials in status which are reared on
die foundation of economic inequality.

No DETAILED research has as yet been made into the factors that
enter into the production of an economic surplus. Far more data
than are at present in hand will be needed if the operation of
these factors is to be understood. The problem is first of all com-
plicated by the fact that its variables make their relative weight-
ing in a given situation difficult to assess. In addition, these
variables are so numerous that they make proper control almost
impossible. We shall, however, here consider the nature of these
variables and, in broadest lines, draw certain generalizations
regarding their interaction.

The physical environment is an extremely important factor. It
provides the setting within the framework of which the struggle
for life goes on, and, as has been indicated in earlier pages, sets
the limits for the exploitation of its potentialities. However, it

398 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

constitutes a relatively passive element, which is played on by the
technological capacities of a given people. The possibilities of
wresting from a favorable environment more than enough to
support a community are naturally much greater than where a
group live in an unfavorable one; and when the technological
equipment of both peoples is equal, this factor must be decisive.
In the study of culture, however, things are rarely equal. It is
only necessary to recall the effectiveness with which peoples who
know irrigation, or terracing, or the rotation of crops, or other
such techniques exploit what would at first glance seem to be
most unpromising environments to realize that the role of the
natural setting of a culture cannot be evaluated without taking
into consideration the equipment which a people bring to the
task of shaping it to their needs.

The relation of population size to environment and technol-
ogy on the one hand, and to per capita productivity on the other,
offers the greatest challenge in investigating the conditions which
make for an economic surplus among a given people. The difficul-
ties in the way of meeting this challenge perhaps explain why the
problem has received so little attention at the hands of investi-
gators. Thus, so elementary a question as that of determining just
what is meant by such designations as "tribe" or "band" or "peo-
ple" and how such a grouping is to be distinguished from its
neighbors, assumes major proportions here. This problem solved,
however, the task is by no means ended. Is it justifiable to take
gross numbers as a criterion when making assumptions as to
the relation between the size of a group and the amount of eco-
nomic surplus its productive system achieves? Or should density
of population be the test? And even where clear differences in
population size and density exist, will not a smaller group with
more highly developed techniques for exploiting their environ-
ment surpass the productivity of a larger group less competently
equipped?

In view of these initial difficulties, only certain tentative state-
ments of a general nature can be made concerning the relation-
ship between population size, productivity, and the resultant
available social leisure. On the whole, it seems that the problem
of survival is most pressing in the smallest societies. Conversely,
it is among the larger groups, where the specialization appears
which is instrumental in producing more goods than are sufficient

POPULATION, SURPLUS AND LEISURE 399

to support all the people, that the enjoyment of social leisure is
made possible.

THE QUESTION of per capita productivity can, perhaps, be best
approached by considering how different societies support those
individuals whose contributions to the total economy arise from
the functions they perform as rulers or controllers of the super-
natural. Such persons are dependent on the capacity of a group to
furnish them with the economic goods they require if they are to
provide for their basic needs. Marginal peoples, numerically
small, generally inhabiting difficult environments and, with per-
haps the exception of the Eskimo, equipped with technologies of
an inferior order, offer an advantageous point of departure. One
such group are the Bushmen of South Africa, who can be com-
pared with respect to their capacity to support specialists in
political administration and the care of the supernatural with the
Hottentot, living in an environmental setting not dissimilar to
theirs, but whose level of economic life is slightly higher.

In the southern reaches of Bushman territory no one enjoys
economic advantage because of any special position in society.
The head of a band is accorded deference, "but his authority in
general is very limited," and the direction of hunting activities
which are carried out in common, or of migration, is in the hands
of those whose experience and ability are informally recognized.
In the northwestern part of the area, where tribes are somewhat
larger, a hereditary chief is acknowledged. Here, however, the
office is most rudimentary, and since "no tribute or services are
rendered to the chief, nor are there any special signs of chief-
tainship, such as a particular dress or mode of life," it is apparent
that his position brings him no added participation in the total
store of goods produced by his group. The reason is simple: the
Bushmen produce no surplus. Consequently, the chief is "a
leader rather than a ruler," and it is by force of his personality
rather than by his control of tribal resources that he makes effec-
tive such authority as he may theoretically possess. There are no
priests, and though the special magic powers of some members of
the community are recognized, these persons are in no way differ-
entiated from their fellow-members of the community. The only

4OO ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

apparent return they receive from the practice of their craft is
an occasional gift.

Now over the areas inhabited by the Bushmen ranged groups
whose total in pre-European times has been conservatively esti-
mated at 10,000 for the Cape province. On the other hand, the
Hottentot, despite ravages of disease and war, and with allow-
ance made for those of European ancestry, were officially esti-
mated on the basis of the 1904 census as numbering some 50,000.
It is, therefore, instructive to compare the two groups. Like the
Bushmen, the Hottentot were organized into small bands, but
unlike them, their bands recognized allegiance to larger clan and
tribal groupings. Each tribe was headed by a chief, whose cattle-
kraal was the most important in the tribe, and who was attended
by councilors, the headmen of the various local groups in the
tribe. Hottentot chiefs wore no special insignia, "except that
their karosses were made of leopard and wild cat skins." But
the chief "is generally the wealthiest man in the tribe," and
among the Nama Hottentot fines levied in criminal cases either
are given him alone or are divided with his councilors, while, in
addition, he may also receive a share of damages awarded in a
civil suit. Though this matter will be treated at length in later
chapters, it may also be noted at this point that the obligations to
expend wealth ostentatiously, which accompany rank in societies
economically more secure, are foreshadowed here. For Hottentot
chiefs, like rulers the world over, are expected to "have an open
hand and an open house," and parsimony is "the worst thing" a
chief can be accused of. As among the Bushmen, the members of
Hottentot groups who were competent in the control of super-
natural powers were in the main workers of magic. Yet ritualistic
observances not found among their less numerous Bushmen
neighbors are to be noted, as where, in the worship of the great
Hero, large feasts are held on the occasion of the expected onset
of the summer rains. 2

Other cultures of this marginal type reflect in a comparable
manner the absence of an economic surplus, in that those speciali-
zations, which in more complex economies mark the activities
of a class composed of those who produce services rather than

2 Schapcra (1930), 149-51, 197- 389 ff.
8, 39-40, 50, 329, 332-5, 378-9,

POPULATION, SURPLUS AND LEISURE 401

goods, are wholly or almost entirely absent. The Nuer, who in-
habit the difficult swampy terrain of the upper Nile, have a so-
ciety where "there is little inequality of wealth and no class privi-
lege." A man does not accumulate goods, for if he acquires more
objects than he can use, he can only give them away. Cattle can
be amassed, but this is not done except for "a few sacred herds
kept by prophets." Actually, when a herd reaches a given size,
its owner "if one may speak of an owner of a herd in which
many people have rights of one kind and another is morally
bound to dispose of it by either himself marrying or by assisting
a relative to do so." 3 Yet so classless is this society, and to so great
an extent is its political structure based on opposition of kinship
and local groupings, that it has been described as an "anarchic"
state. 4 Though "leopard-skin chiefs" do exist and play "a minor
role in the settlement of disputes other than homicide," their
political powers are limited to intervention between groups and
derive solely from their "sacred association with the earth." As
such, the "leopard-skin chief" is a "ritual expert," whose social
position is no greater than that of any other respected man, and
whose economic position is no more favorable. 5

In the arctic, Central Eskimo settlements respect the authority
of a man who has special knowledge of the haunts of game. Yet
when the question of moving the camp or apportioning work
arises, though such a respected person may indicate what he
considers the best course, "there is not the slightest obligation to
obey his orders." These communities know a type of "servitor"
one who having no ties of his own, or who is not competent him-
self to make his living, joins the household of another but the
relationship is based on mutual consent. The prestige of the
master of the household and his place in society is enhanced no
more because he has a retainer than is that of the "servant" low-
ered because of his subordinate position. The shaman acts as a
doctor, but is economically no better off than his fellows. 6 Among
the Chipewayan tribes of northern Canada, as among the Es-
kimo, the "chief" provided such an office ever existed enjoyed
the confidence of his equals only by virtue of his achievements
and capabilities. The medicine-men of these tribes were like-

3 Evans-Pritchard (1940b), 92. 5 Ibid. (1940b), 172-6.

4 Ibid. (1940a), 272. 6 Boas (1888), 581.

402 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

wise full participants in the productive life of the community and
were in no manner supported by it. 7

The only authority exercised among the Selk'nam of Tierra
del Fuego is within the family; among the wider community, life
is lived in "unhindered freedom and equality." Group leadership
exists only on the basis of moral force. The role of the medicine-
man is important, but not from an economic point of view;
though the calling is far more sharply defined than that of leader
of a group, those who follow it are by no means supported by the
community in return for their services. 8

These tribal groupings of Tierra del Fuego have long been
famous for the paucity of their technology and the harshness of
their natural environment. "The Alacaluf" we are told, "live from
day to day on available food. They store none because even
carefully dried foodstuffs mildew in the great humidity." They
practice no agriculture, nor do they have any domesticated ani-
mals except the dog. Their material culture is simple. As con-
cerns status, we are informed that "there are, apparently, no clans
or chieftainships. The families that live and hunt together are
generally blood relations. The advice of the oldest individual may
be asked, but is not always followed." The account speaks of
"shamanism," which would indicate, as in the case of the Yahgan
and Ona, a certain degree of specialization in the manipulation
of the supernatural. 9

Among these two other Fuegian peoples, the same lack of re-
sources is found, and there are the same specific statements con-
cerning the total absence of persons having political position.
Among them, however, curers, who also "influenced weather,
helped in hunting, prognosticated and so forth" were trained by
older shamans, and went through a "shaman's institute and feast,
which could last several months," and which functioned to
"condition and school young candidates." This group training
was not present among the Ona, the knowledge each candidate
had to have usually being taught "by a shaman father to Yus
sou' over a period of two or three years, Because of tlw

economic pic\ure, it may'W assumrA Yirrr agilltl ftial i
to these men, which is not indicated, was

7 Birkct-Smith ( 193O), 66 i,,

"Cusinde, 421-3, 718-19 ' /ir/? f<pcr .

'Bird, 63, 71, 78! (HMflb). ]J<M7, 124.

POPULATION, SURPLUS AND LEISURE 403

Another poorly endowed, marginal people, the Shoshoni of the
Great Basin area, similarly lack chiefs or economically significant
specialists in the supernatural. The band, a family group, is the
social and political unit. It is directed by its head; in larger
temporary gatherings only those with specific supernatural power
for the task at hand are accorded authority over the proceedings,
and they receive no reward for their services. Shamans adminis-
ter to the needs of the sick, but they become no wealthier be-
cause of their specialized skill, since whatever remuneration they
may receive is dictated by the caprice of spirit that gives them
their power, and this return is as likely as not to be worthless. 11 In
the same region, while the Paviotso shaman has all opportunity to
amass wealth, there is no point in his doing so, inasmuch as ob-
jects so classed are rarely accumulated. Moreover, since the tribe
has no system of exchange, the shaman must work to supply his
subsistence needs like any other person. "In short, his super-
natural power does not offer the opportunity to gain marked eco-
nomic privileges." 12

The absence of an economic surplus is strikingly correlated
with an absence of economically privileged status among the Aus-
tralian tribes. The smallness of their bands, the crudeness of their
technological equipment, and the sparseness of population over
their area, are too well known to need restatement. 'The organ-
ized tribe with its use of chiefs does not exist" among the
Murngin. The highest social status in the camps of the aborigines
of Queensland is accorded the elder, whose opinion is most
highly respected; but "there is no single individual chief to direct
affairs." Older men are also recognized as leaders among the
Yir-Yoront, and these, informally organized into a kind of "com-
munity gerontocracy," direct the affairs of the group to which
they belong, and carry on the ceremonials demanded in the wor-
ship of the supernatural. But other than this there are no distinc-
tions of rank. 13

The Siriono of Bolivia, it will be recalled, live close to the
subsistence level. Because "tY\e Indians are forced to devote
most of their time and energy to the immediate struggle for sur-
vival," they have neither priests nor shamans. However, they do
have chiefs of a sort, men who are "nominally the highest official"

11 J. S. Harris (1940), passim. "Warner, 9; Roth (1897), 141;

12 Park, 66-71. Sharp, 20.

404 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

of each group. Yet power is casual: "To maintain his prestige a
chief must fulfill, in a superior fashion, those obligations required
of everyone else." The prerogatives of the chief are not many,
but he does have the right, with his family, to occupy the com-
munal house, and, as an indicator of status, he will have more
than one wife. The chief is said by all to be "entitled to a share
of every catch of game," but an empirical check demonstrated
that this rule was rarely observed. "Their requests (for food)
more frequently bear fruit than those of others, because chiefs
are the best hunters and are thus in a better position than most
to reciprocate for any favors done them." On the whole, such
returns as the chiefs receive are in the nature of prestige. They
are referred to as "big" men and command more respect than
ordinary individuals. 14

Each of the three semi-independent sub-tribes of the Chiroti
of the South American Chaco is markedly smaller than its neigh-
bors. None of these units numbers more than 1,000 souls, and the
total figure for all three is estimated at about 2,000. Hence it is
profitable to compare such small groups, in respect to their abil-
ity to support those who do not produce subsistence commodi-
ties, with the neighboring Toba, who have a population of
between 3,000 and 4,000. The Choroti have almost no effective
chiefs; the picture, indeed, reminds one of the Australians and
other marginal folk. Even the so-called "great chief" cannot en-
force his will, and a village chief is "nothing but a pater familias
enjoying a certain esteem." It is not surprising to learn that these
officials do not appropriate resources of the community in the
way of their more powerful fellows in societies having a more
numerous population. Workers of magic are found, but since
every old man "is more or less expert in the act of magic and
considered able to handle the rattle gourd or the drum/' it is not
possible to point to professionals who are the equivalent of those
specialists in other societies whose skills are used as an economic
asset. In this culture, then, "social classes do not exist," since "all
members of this primitive society are equally rich or equally
poor."

What, then, of the Tobas? In terms of our hypothesis, the dif-
ference that might be expected between the absence of eco-
nomically effective segmentation in a very small group and a

14 Holmberg, 90, 59-60.

POPULATION, SURPLUS AND LEISURE 405

rudimentary segmentation in one somewhat larger, is at once ap-
parent. For though among the Toba the tribe is "in its essence
only a group of families united by the tie of blood relationship"
and "social ranks and classes do not exist," yet a "germ of no-
bility" is to be discerned, and the real power possessed by Toba
chiefs is backed by a certain control of economic resources. The
chiefs, that is, are distinguished "by having several wives and by
being richer, since of the spoils taken in war the main part is
allotted to them." Thus while the categories of rich and poor are
of but minor importance in view of the prevalent patterns of
economic equality, yet it does happen, though rarely, that a great
chief who has waged war successfully against other tribes will
have larger flocks and more wives than his subjects. 15

IT is hardly necessary to compare these groups having sparse
populations with the societies which represent the other extremes
of numbers and resources among nonliterate peoples. One finds
moving through the accounts of those who, in Peru and Mexico,
West Africa and Malaysia, witnessed the functioning of the so-
called "high cultures" not only rulers and priests, but corps of
assistants and servitors and craftsmen whose duty it was to pro-
vide ornaments, regalia, and settings worthy of their masters.
Well-defined procedures are also often recorded whereby a con-
siderable part of the labor of the group went for the upkeep of
royal and priestly establishments.

More important for our purposes are those societies that fall
between the extremes, such as those of Polynesia. Varying in size
and technological achievement, the production of an economic
surplus is facilitated by the favorable environmental conditions
in which for the most part they live. In Tahiti the rulers, who
also exercised important priestly functions, were the highest of
the three existing social classes, the others being the "gentry"
and the "plebeians." Chiefs from this social stratum were re-
garded as descendants of the highest class of gods. They wore
the costumes of these gods, and were themselves held to be gods
incarnate. "Their lands were extensive, their dwellings were spa-

15 Karstcn, 18-19, 43-6, 94-5.

406 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

cious . . . and they always had a large retinue of retainers
chosen from the lower classes." The humbler members of the
royal family lived in much the same way as the more important
personages of the group, "but on a smaller scale." Royalty of all
ranks engaged in the more gracious forms of productive activ-
ities; it was deemed shameful not to excel "in all the arts and
handicrafts of their time, feeling it a disgrace to appear ignorant
or clumsy before their people." The gentry were farmers, work-
ing their own lands and acting as faithful keepers of the lands of
their sovereign. Their standard of living was less elaborate than
that of royalty, but higher than that of the lowest class, who did
most of the actual labor on the land.

The social status of each class, and, what is more important for
the present discussion, its economic position, were well recog-
nized. No more effective formulation of the economic role of each
and the return each could expect from the store of total goods
produced could be had than the native phrasing of the situation:
"The types of men are three. Take a breadfruit. When it is
cooked, take off the skin, that is for the people. The meat, that
is eaten by the arii ( the rulers ) . The core is given to the mana-
hune ( commoners without property ) ." To the ruler certain things
were tapu, and none other than he could partake of them; in this
category came the ca valla fish, the chest and filet of the hog, and
the first fruits of the land. 16

Though class structure throughout the Pacific area was not
always as marked as in Tahiti, it was present in some form al-
most everywhere, and everywhere its economic base is readily
apparent. In the Marquesas, the chief had the right to the first
fruits of the gardens, especially the breadfruit, and to the first
fish of each catch. In Tonga, the burden of supporting the upper
classes was appreciable, as can be seen from one report, which
gives some idea of the comparative numbers in each class. In
Lifuka as a whole, among the male heads of families in 1920
were numbered 33 chiefs, 116 matapules officials appointed
from the higher non-chiefly families and 275 commoners; in
Foa the numbers were 8, 53, and 110 respectively; in Uiha, 3, 23,
and 109; in Kolovai Tongutalu 18, 10, and 74. Mangaia also had
three social grades, the lowest a population of serfs, the descend-
ants of captives, who survived only through the goodwill of their

16 T. Henry, 229-30; Handy (1930), 42-4.

POPULATION, SURPLUS AND LEISURE 407

overlord, from whom they purchased security by bringing to him
what they produced. 17

Maori chiefs were invariably wealthy men, and the sources of
the liberal support given them by the community have been set
down in some detail. They owned private gardens and rights
over bird-trees and fishing grounds, which were better worked
than those of ordinary men because of the labor-power of their
households, which were much larger than those of commoners.
The principal chief of a district, in addition, held special rights
to any sea mammals cast ashore within his territory, to flotsam
and jetsam on uninhabited neighboring shores, and to any hid-
den goods that might be dug up or otherwise discovered. Here,
as elsewhere, he was presented by his subjects with the first
fruits, and in addition, received offerings of food from their an-
nual harvest. Those who asked a favor of a chief showed pru-
dence if their plea was accompanied by a gift, while tribute from
vassals and those living on the land belonging to a chief also in-
creased his income. The freemen of neighboring settlements were
often called on to work his forests, or to obtain birds or fish for
him, while presents were sent him from time to time by his rela-
tives in other districts, and travelers who passed through his ter-
ritory expressed their appreciation in tangible form. 18

In the Melanesian Trobriand Islands, the chief, the wealthiest
man in his community, supports the expenditures required of one
in his position by means of the tribute paid him by each "vassal"
village which he controls through his political marriages. From
each of these villages he takes a wife, who is always related to
the village headman, so that, in effect, the entire community must
work to supply him with the produce that is his due as the affinal
relative of their local ruler.

In olden days, the chief of Omarakana had up to as many as
forty consorts, and received perhaps as much as thirty to
fifty per cent of all the garden produce of Kiriwana. Even
now, when his wives number only sixteen, he has enormous
storehouses, and they are full to the roof with yams every
harvest time.

This food is expended by the chief "for the many services he re-
quires." Thus it is used by him to acquire objects of wealth, to

17 Handy ( 1923 ) , 58-9; Gifford 18 Raymond Firth ( 1929a ) , 285-8.
(1929), 108 IF.; Hiroa (1934), 109 ff.

408 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

underwrite the expenses of great feasts or of overseas expedi-
tions, and to purchase the supernatural controls needed to main-
tain himself in power. Here, it must be remarked, appears a
mechanism frequently encountered; the support by the chief, or
ruler, of specialists in the supernatural. The only way in which a
Trobriand chief can punish his subjects is by recourse to super-
natural forces, and consequently some of his wealth must go to
the workers of magic, since their very presence is a threat to any
challenge to his power. It is thus apparent that "the chiefs po-
sition can be grasped only through the realisation of the high im-
portance of wealth, of the necessity of paying for everything,
even for services which are due to him, and which could not be
withheld. . . ." 19

In Bougainville, Solomon Islands, where there is "no estab-
lished tradition by which a leader is succeeded in office by son
or nephew," there are none the less "social-political hierarchies"
which, as in the Trobriand Islands, are based on the ability to
control and manipulate wealth in this case pigs and shell-
money. According to Oliver, "the real leader is the one who orig-
inates action in traditionally accepted ways. He is the feast-giver,
the wealth-distributor." He attains his position "at the top of the
social-political ladder by building up prestige with frequent dis-
tributions of food. Giving away food and riches rather than ac-
cumulating and displaying it is the key to social and political
success in Siaui."

The relationship between the average number of pigs held by
men who were heads of households, and the ages of these men,
may be indicated. It is apparent that in a system such as this, as
in other societies with similar arrangements for the acquisition of
status through the display and expenditure of wealth, 20 the re-
lationship actually found might be anticipated, since only with
increasing age can the wealth needed to achieve status be ob-
tained. The tabulation is given on the following page, while on
p. 410 a graphic presentation of them will be found ( in Figure 5 ) .

It may be pointed out that factors other than the ownership
of pigs enter in the determination of status. As between villages,
for example, one group may give more feasts, and thus have less
pigs on hand, than another. Again, the number of wives possessed
by a man will be related to his resources the average holdings

19 Malinowski (1922), 62-5. 20 See below, 461ff.

POPULATION, SURPLUS AND LEISURE 409

Age of Number of Average Number

householder householders of pigs

19-21 7 1.8

22-24 8 3.2

25-27 18 3.6

28-30 16 3.8

31-33 16 3.4

34-36 15 3.5

37-39 10 3.8

40-42 10 4.3

43-45 12 4.1

46-48 9 5.0

49-51 5 5.4

52-54 9 4.1

55-57 4 4.7

58- 9 4.2

of pigs by 186 monogamous households sampled in Siuai was
3.6, of 13 polygamous units, 5.0.

Whatever the force of the various factors involved, the eco-
nomic base of the position of the man of status in this society is
clear:

The native leader has certain rights and obligations vis a vis
his followers. His house is frequently larger, but his diet is
no better. He is relieved of the onerous tasks of climbing
palms and carrying heavy burdens, but he continues to work
in his garden. He is treated with respect and deference
wherever he goes, but in return must be a generous host. He
frequently calls upon his followers to labor for him, but must
repay their efforts with pork meals. Nowadays, he has no
armed force to back up his orders, but he can control the
opinions of most of his followers and thereby make life fairly
unpleasant for a disobedient one. And, on top of all this he
has supernatural sanction for his position. 21

For the Bantu of South Africa, it has likewise been shown how
power and prestige derive from control over economic surplus.
A man is here liable to his chief "and other political superiors"
for labor as well as tribute in kind, and these obligations can be
enforced in the native courts. The commoner can be sent on er-

21 Oliver (1949a), 13-14; (1949b), 59-60.

? ss

K* ^
r"S ~t*

*i .&

cT o

CJ O

?K =

CO CM

POPULATION, SURPLUS AND LEISURE 411

rands for his overlord, or can be summoned to perform "various
tasks" either for him or for some member of his household, such
as helping build and thatch royal dwellings, rounding up stray
cattle, and destroying wild beasts. Tribute may take the form of
the crops from special fields worked for the chief by the people,
or, as among the Sotho, of a basket of corn from each woman,
when she harvests her field; he also benefits from the hunter's
bag. His wealth is always considerable. He has **by far" the
largest herds of cattle in the tribe. All animals captured in raids
must be brought to him for redistribution at his pleasure, and
stray cattle are taken to him and must be reclaimed within a
certain period if he is not to retain them. Upon his installation,
he is given cattle by the head of every family, and in some parts
of the region the father of each lad undergoing initiation must
pay him one animal. Fines for certain crimes are retained by
him, while, in addition to all these sources of revenue, there is a
constant flow of gifts from those who desire his favors, or who
wish to remain in his good graces. He is priest as well as ruler,
and plays an especially important role in rain-making ceremo-
nies; but this function has little economic significance, since he
merely acts as would any family head. In this area, too, are heal-
ers, magicians, and diviners. These are professionals whose sup-
port is also a charge upon the community. 22

Yet lacking the conceptual framework employed in this dis-
cussion, the relationship between resources and social status in
this area can be confusing. Thus, concerning the Swazi, we are
first informed that "though differences of wealth exist, no class
structure similar to that of industrialized Europe has developed.
There is no capitalist class with the monopoly of the means of
production, no proletariat from whom these means are debarred,
and no self-conscious, leisured class that maintains itself on the
labour of others." 2S This is not entirely consonant with the
later statement: "Swazi accept economic and social inequality
and approve of wealth as the privilege of men of noble birth"; 24
or that "the cattle of kingship," held by the king in trust for the
nation, "exceed those of any individual"; or that "within the
principalities chiefs usually, but not inevitably, own larger herds

22 Schapcra and Goodwin, 16&- M Kuper, 137.
70; Hoernte, 226 ff. 24 Ibid., 153.

412 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

than their subjects." 25 Figures of the distribution of ownership
of cattle show the inequalities that are found among this people
of one district:

No. of cattle

0-5 5-10 10-20 20-30 30-40 40-50 50-60 60-70 Over 70
No. of owners
602794323 1

The underlying validation of social position would seem to be
expressed in this sentence: "Obligations as well as benefits ac-
crue from wealth: rich men gain prestige and security, not by
hoarding, but by judicious distribution."

Numerous societies in the Americas, lying between extremes
of size and resource, show that in the New World the distribu-
tion of the economic surplus among the members of a given
tribe was by no means equal. Among the Natchez of southeastern
United States the apportionment of wealth strongly favored the
nobles, whose display of goods to enhance their position will be
treated in a later chapter. To the north, Iroquois economic struc-
ture made for a tripartite grouping, often overlooked because of
interest in the political and social organization of these people.
In addition to the mass of free citizens of the community, who,
though varying in social position, were not of significantly differ-
ent economic status, there were the medicine-men, whose "mo-
nopolistic part in production . . . gave them a certain control
over the surplus of the clan, which they were not slow to per-
ceive," and the servile groups, who "stood below . . . the [mem-
bers of the] clan in the distributive system." Just as the former
group obtained their wealth "in the form of a tax . . . rendered
in return for the supposed services of the medicine man in con-
trolling the forces of nature," so the underprivileged group "re-
ceived nothing but 'food and shelter in exchange for their cease-
less labor and sweat/ " 20

FROM all parts of the world materials are thus on hand to make
clear that nonliterate societies everywhere, producing more goods

25 Ibid., 151. 20 Stitcs, 76-8.

POPULATION, SURPLUS AND LEISURE 413

than the minimum required for the support of life, translate their
economic surpluses into the social leisure which is only afforded
those members of the community who are supported by this ex-
cess wealth. Just why the surplus is produced remains obscure.
As has been suggested, this question will only be resolved when
further research produces quantitative data to give us a clearer
picture than we now have of the relationship between natural
environment, technological equipment, and population size.

Yet if we collate our materials, it is possible to formulate this
problem more sharply than has hitherto been done, and such a
formulation may at least serve as a basis for future investigation.
It is to be recalled that the societies having the simplest econ-
omies, crudest technologies, and surpluses either nonexistent or
so slight as to be of little significance, also have the smallest pop-
ulations. On the other hand, it is evident that among the most
populous nonliterate peoples, the surplus is large enough to en-
able these groups to support considerable numbers of persons
not engaged in the production of subsistence goods. This point
is the more striking if the literate historic cultures are included,
since these comprise both greater populations, greater economic
surpluses, and larger leisure classes than are found elsewhere.

It thus appears that whereas in the smallest groups life is a
real struggle for existence in which man is barely the victor, in
larger groups there is more than enough to go around, and this
surplus becomes proportionately greater as populations are more
numerous. The factor of superior technology must, of course,
enter. Yet why, we may ask, should large groups have superior
technologies? Is there some bio-statistical reason which brings
it about that by chance more persons of an inventive turn may
make their appearance in larger groups than in smaller ones, and
thus create the means whereby the labor of their fellows and
their descendants is rendered more efficient? Does mere chance
dictate the result? Does the accident of invention encourage a
tendency for human groups to breed toward the limit of their
productive capacity? Or does the process of directing the surplus
goods produced into the hands of a few members of the com-
munity, as noted even among groups living only slightly above
the subsistence level, create a condition that encourages the
thought and reflection which can only come with the leisure en-
joyed by some persons? And is it this opportunity which not only

414 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

makes possible inventions in the technological sphere, but also
encourages the development of those aspects of culture com-
monly described as "civilization"?

Whatever the case, the almost universal inequities which seem
to mark the distribution of surplus economic goods is striking.
This surplus wealth, it is apparent, goes to two groups, those who
govern, and those who command techniques for placating and
manipulating the supernatural forces of the universe. The mem-
bers of these groups are, therefore, to be regarded as belonging
to a leisure class in that they, like their families and their re-
tainers, profit from the social leisure which this economic surplus
represents. They are, to be sure, members of a leisure class
certainly in so far as they are encountered in most nonliterate
societies only in the sense that the goods they deal in consist
of intangibles whose production does not require the exercise
of the manual labor their less privileged fellows give to the pro-
duction of the essentials to life they produce. Obviously, mem-
bers of the leisure class do not occupy their time purposelessly,
for they are often hard driven by the cares and preoccupations
of their obligations toward the groups from which they derive
their support. As it has been put for certain African societies,
"Economic privileges, such as rights to tax, tribute, and labour,
are both the main reward of political power and an essential
means of maintaining it. ... But there are counterbalancing
economic obligations no less strongly backed by institutionalized
sanctions. It must not be forgotten, also, that those who derive
maximum economic benefit from political office also have the
maximum administrative, judicial and religious responsibil-
ities/' 27

Having attempted to sketch the conditions which make for
the production of an economic surplus and the social leisure it
represents, two further points must be considered. The first con-
cerns the manner in which non-producers of subsistence goods
obtain the support of their fellows and entails a description and
analysis of the devices employed to ensure them command of the
surplus they must have in order to live and function. The second
point bears on the measures taken by those who benefit from the
economic surplus to ensure that those who do not so benefit
remain content with their lot. Here we are at the heart of the

27 Fortes and Evans-Pritchard, 8-9.

POPULATION, SURPLUS AND LEISURE 415

matter. For we find that people the world over are not only con-
tent, but often proud to yield a portion of what their labor pro-
duces for the maintenance of their superiors on a plane of living
that surpasses their own.

In attempting to answer these questions, we enter the topsy-
turvy realm of prestige economics, where the greatest aid to-
ward the production of esteem is the economic waste of useful
goods. Here, as we shall see, the more conspicuous the display
of economic advantage by the group in power before those
whose duty it is to provide them with the means of supporting
their position, the greater the assurance that their power will be
continued and that they will be able to maintain control of the
economic surplus on which this power rests.

CHAPTER XIX

THE COST OF
GOVERNMENT

THE FACT that public finance must constitute an essential phase
of the administration of nonliterate communities is not commonly
recognized when their processes of government are discussed.
None the less, the regulation of group life cannot be carried on
without cost, and this cost must be deducted from any surplus
that may be produced by a people over their subsistence needs.
The proportion of the surplus devoted to this purpose, and its
use by those in whose hands it is placed, will obviously vary
greatly from one culture to the next. But, as has been demon-
strated in the preceding chapter, no society can afford a govern-
"ment whose available resources are insufficient to relieve those
charged with the direction of affairs from the necessity of them-
selves producing all their primary wants.

As in any analysis of public finance, income and expenditure
must be primary considerations, though it must be made clear
that much more is known of how income is assured rulers in non-
literate societies than of how they dispose of what they receive.
Accounting is a recent development even in Euroamerican cul-
ture; in these other societies the absence of record-keeping, to
say nothing of an almost universal lack of stable currency in
which to calculate receipts and expenditures, makes it possible
only in exceptional instances to bring even the most rudimentary
bookkeeping devices to our aid. Hence, though what a chief may
levy as taxes or receive as gifts can, in a general way, be ascer-
tained from the literature, as can his rights to command the labor
of his subjects and the circumstances under which he may confis-

416

THE COST OF GOVERNMENT 417

cate their possessions for his own or public use, our information
is vague indeed as to what he does with these goods and services.
Some of the goods available to the ruler, as we shall see in a
later chapter, are redistributed to win the loyalty of his subjects,
or they may be destroyed to enhance his prestige. The cost of
the mechanisms which assure tranquillity in times of peace and
security in time of war is usually a charge against the income of
the ruler, particularly in more populous and highly organized
societies. The dictates of noblesse oblige necessitate that lavish
hospitality be dispensed by those in high position, while, in
addition, they are often called upon to make what can be termed
philanthropic donations. But to balance these and other forms
of expenditure against what is received can only be done, if at
all, in the generalized terms which by now stand in familiar con-
trast to the sharpness that marks the similar but more clearly
differentiated phenomena in literate pecuniary societies.

However generalized public finance in nonliterate societies
may be, and however difficult to reduce to quantitative state-
ment, the means whereby rulers are assured of support by those
they govern must none the less be regarded as taxation. Any at-
tempt to understand how the economic surplus is diverted into
the hands of those who govern may thus be best furthered by an
attack from the point of view implicit in this designation. We
accordingly proceed, to the degree our data permit, to note those
devices that are employed to assure revenue to those who rule,
and, where possible, the reactions of those taxed. We shall at
the same time attempt to indicate as well the expenditures made
by governments of nonliterate groups for socially useful pur-
poses, rather than for purposes of individual advantage, leaving
the latter to the discussion of the relationship between spending
and prestige.

THE MOST sharply differentiated systems of taxation and public
expenditure are understandably to be found in those societies
having the most complex political organization. Two West Af-
rican kingdoms falling in this category that have been the most
carefully studied for materials of this type may therefore be dis-

418 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

cussed at the outset. Not only do these materials demonstrate
how in certain nonliterate societies the problem of supporting
the regime was solved, but they also serve as a stepping-stone to
an understanding of the less specialized forms of comparable
phenomena among groups lacking such intricate types of gov-
ernmental organization.

In analyzing the levies laid by Ashanti rulers, Rattray stresses
the fact that

"onerous and no doubt irksome as these taxes may sometimes
have been, they nevertheless constituted the lesser impost
levied by a Stool 1 upon its subjects. By far the most onerous
duty placed upon the Ashanti landholder in olden days does
not appear on our schedule, i.e., the obligation imposed upon
a subject to give life and limb, fighting in the service of his
overlord, when called upon to do so.

The taxes themselves were, however, sufficiently burdensome.
First in the order of their yield were the death duties, which ac-
crued to a given Stool slowly, as they moved stage by stage up
through the appropriate hierarchy. Thus when a man of sub-
stance died, the elder who was his immediate superior succeeded
to a specified proportion of the "private personal property" of the
deceased movable assets, gold-dust, slaves, cloths. Upon the
death of this elder, his superior took a similar proportion, and it
was only upon the demise of this third man that the ruler of the
territorial division received his share of the estate from which the
chain of deductions had commenced. The manner of collecting
these dues varied. A chief might legally send his treasurer to seal
the rooms and boxes of his dead subject, but if "a more delicate
and tactful way of going about the collection of this tax than the
other more forcible method" was desired, payment could be left
to the discretion of the relatives of the dead man. This, it seems,
"practically amounted to the same thing in the end" because in
such cases the social sanctions acted to reinforce the political
ones.

The second most important source of revenue to a Stool was
the trade monopolies and the taxes on the transportation of com-

1 The word "Stool" is employed will therefore be retained in dis-
in the Ashanti literature as the cussing Ashanti public finance here,
equivalent of "throne." This term

THE COST OF GOVERNMENT 419

modities. Kola was exported to the north, and slaves, livestock,
and shea butter were acquired in return. Southward slaves and
gold-dust were sent to the coast, and the carriers returned with
rum, guns and gunpowder, metal rods, salt, and "soft goods.**
Roads to the north were closed when the trading operations of
the Stool were being effected; when these roads were reopened,
all other traders who passed were assessed twenty-five kola-nuts
per load, twenty of these going to the principal chief. While
porters carrying goods from the north were not taxed, those who
returned from the coast with commodities for sale were assessed
gold-dust to the amount of three or four shillings before they
were allowed to proceed to their home markets.

A third source of revenue was what Rattray terms court fines
and fees. One type of fee, foreign to European legal procedure,
was given by the party acquitted of a charge; this was a thank-
offering and also "served the purpose of securing witnesses to
attest to the judgment of the court should the trial ever be ques-
tioned." The death penalty could be remitted by a chief upon
payment of a fine. Unlike other fines, this type was not divided
among his subordinates, and since such fines were in amounts
that ranged to an equivalent of about four thousand dollars, they
offered an appreciable source of income. Taxes on gold-mining
operations comprised a fourth form of revenue. This tax gen-
erally amounted to two-thirds of the gold mined, the miner re-
taining the other third. There were, in addition, further ways of
caring for the needs of the treasury. A special levy met the fu-
neral expenses of a chief; spoils of war were apportioned among
the chiefs; assessments were imposed to care for the ceremonies
of the cnstoolment of a new chief; national levies for other spe-
cific purposes were authorized from time to time; there was a
war tax; treasure trove was reserved to the ruler; while food-
stuffs, game, and fish could be confiscated as need for them arose.

Appreciable decentralization marked Ashanti political organ-
ization, each unit in the system having its own jurisdictional right
to assess those it governed. The hierarchical system of great and
petty chiefs was responsible for the procedure of having revenues
paid into the head chiefs treasury filter through the treasuries of
his subordinates. For example, the total amount to be collected
when a specified tax was decreed was divided into two equal
parts, the Stool of the paramount chief being responsible for

420 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

half, and the subordinate chiefs for the other half. The para-
mount chiefs quota was thereupon subdivided into five parts.
This chief assumed responsibility for one of these fifths, which
was in turn divided equally between himself, on the one hand,
and the queen mother, the heir apparent, and other members of
the royal family, on the other. This tenth, then, that the para-
mount chief had accepted as his personal quota was again di-
vided into nine unequal parts, which the heads of the various
groups of palace officials were charged with collecting. Each
chief profited from the process of collecting his required quota,
his subjects being the ones to pay what was ostensibly demanded
of chiefs. The Ashanti proverb cited by Rattray: "A chief may
'eat things/ but he does not pay a debt," reflects long experience.

To what degree did the taxpayers benefit from levies? Certain
taxes imposed for specific purposes to buy guns and powder,
to defray funeral costs, or to furnish regalia were applied at
once to the specified ends. The demands of hospitality took a
large proportion of the sums collected, for anyone might eat in
any chiefs palace as a matter of right. Consequently, "many of
the food taxes . . . went in keeping open house, thus finding
their way back again to the people who had supplied them.'* The
palace of a chief was built and kept in good repair by the elders
of his district and the men under them, who also cleared paths
and bridged streams. For these services "presents" paid for out
of the public funds were proffered in lieu of wages, which were
practically unknown in this culture. Fines, especially thank-offer-
ings, were divided and subdivided until they were widely dis-
persed, this being the manner in which palace attendants re-
ceived their remuneration. Weavers, or makers of metal objects,
or carvers of stools for the chiefs were fed while at work, and in
addition they received gifts "corresponding approximately to the
market values of their wares/'

A sufficiently effective method of accounting assured probity
in the workings of this system, despite the absence of writing.
Receipts and disbursements were balanced at the end of each
day by the use of cowrie shells, and any discrepancy was investi-
gated until responsibility was placed on the proper shoulders.
The financial checks and balances essential to the smooth func-
tioning of any fiscal agency were thus provided, and the assess-
ments in money, labor, and kind collected from those at the bot-

THE COST OF GOVERNMENT 421

torn of the social scale assured support to minor and central
governing bodies for the fulfillment of their roles as the acknowl-
edged leaders of the community, in a manner traditionally sanc-
tioned for the ruling group. 2

IN THE kingdom of Dahomey, a system of social stratification
similar to that just described among the Ashanti to the west was
marked by sharper delineation and greater rigidity of structure.
At the base of the pyramid were the slaves, the majority of whom
labored on the royal plantations or on those of the great chiefs.
Next came a group roughly comparable to European serfs; the
children of slaves who, born in Dahomey, might not be sold out-
side the country, yet did not enjoy such liberties as were ac-
corded free Dahomeans. Comprising the third stratum are the
families of free farmers and artisans, such as iron-workers, weav-
ers, jewelers, potters, and other specialists. This class furnished
the soldiers; and it was also from this class that the higher ranks
of officialdom were filled, since political expediency dictated that
those to whom power was entrusted be of humble origin so that
attempts at rebellion would not find potential leaders of royal
blood in strategic positions. Finally, atop this pyramided struc-
ture were the senior members of the priestly hierarchy and the
rulers, with whom we will be particularly concerned here.

Control over the collection of taxes and other revenues was
maintained through the operation of a unique system, whereby
a female bureaucracy within the royal compound duplicated the

hierarchv of male officials who actually administered the affairs

* ^

of the kingdom outside those walls and served as checks upon
the reports of these men. For each officer there was a "mother,"
a titular wife of the king who lived in the royal compound and
was always present whenever the official gave any report. This
woman also received the reports of the "control" officers sent out
to obtain independent accounts of the matters concerning which
official statements had been or were to be made. In addition,
eight "wives of the leopard" who always accompanied the king,
listened to what was said by a given official, and they were sec-
a Rattray (1929), 107-19,

422 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

onded by another group of the same number whose presence
was also required on such occasions. It is thus to be seen that
with the various outer controls and the triple "inner" control ex-
ercised by the women of the royal household, the opportunities
for peculation were not plentiful.

Two principles were operative in all taxation. The first was
that the control exercised by the monarch that is, the "external"
control must always be indirect. Thus, no one was questioned
concerning the number of cultivators in a given village, but the
count was quietly obtained when these farmers, village by vil-
lage, brought their "gifts" to the king before the annual rites for
the royal ancestors. The second principle, which throws consid-
erable light on attitudes toward the taxing process, was that for
purposes of what among ourselves would be termed propaganda,
the king himself paid the same taxes as his subjects, especially
on the produce of his fields. He thus sought to create in the minds
of his people the impression that he himself was subject to the
same rules as all other Dahomeans, and he seems to have re-
sorted to much ingenuity to foster this belief.

We may now consider some of the products which were taxed
in this kingdom, and to the degree possible, the amount of tax
that was levied. In the case of agriculture, a given proportion,
varying yearly, of the harvest of each village had to be turned
over to the officials from the palace, where the produce was trans-
ported and, in the main, held for the army. Palm groves were
assessed approximately one-third of their total yield; the palm-
oil, which with the declining slave-trade became increasingly the
most important source of revenue of the monarchy, was shipped
to the sea-coast and traded for guns, ammunition, and other Eu-
ropean goods. Livestock was taxed only every two or three years,
the size of the assessment varying according to calculated need
and available numbers. Cattle, which were not numerous in
Dahomey, presented no problem, but sheep and goats were
counted without the knowledge of their owners by means of
ruses in which the priesthood co-operated with the officials of
the monarchy in a manner to be detailed in the next chapter. The
census of livestock was taken by village, and on this basis the
number of animals demanded of each settlement was fixed. In
one instance where the residents in a given village possessed
800 goats, the levy was 12.5 per cent "five from each forty," or

THE COST OF GOVERNMENT 423

100 animals. Horses, which were rare, were in effect "registered,"
since only men of high position might ride them, and then only
with the express permission of the monarch. Four thousand cow-
ries per year was the approximate license fee for each animal,
though early first-hand accounts of rituals of the royal ancestral
cult make it appear that those who rode horses were also ex-
pected to meet supplementary charges in the form of "gifts" to
the king. One pig was demanded of each person who owned
these animals; butchers paid an "occupational" tax according to
the number of head handled, in addition to a quarter of an ani-
mal as a gift to the king on the occasion of the annual ancestral
rites.

There were numerous other occupational taxes. Hunters were
counted by subterfuge during rituals for the gods of the hunt.
They worked in groups, each under its chief, these chiefs being
assigned to thirteen divisions, each of which was required to fur-
nish meat for the palace during one of the Dahomean native
months. In other words, one-thirteenth of each hunter's efforts
went as a license fee. Since the heads of all the animals had to
be sent to the palace, the amount of game killed, as well as the
number of hunters, was controlled, and a complete return of
everything due was assured. Salt, evaporated from sea-water,
was manufactured at the coast, and since this industry was in
the charge of the "Viceroy of Whydah" as the subordinate who
ruled this important town has been terrnetl an especially care-
ful cheek was maintained. Inasmuch as salt was held a necessity,
tradition has it that royal policy dictated that no revenue was to
be obtained from its manufacture. Each salt-maker was there-
fore assessed but ten small sacks annually, an amount calculated
only to supply the actual needs of the palace.

Iron-workers were required to make cartridges as their contri-
bution to the needs of the government. After a complicated proc-
ess of indirect counting, based on control at the forges and in
the market-places where they disposed of their wares, they were
assessed on the basis of the amount of iron each forge had not
disposed of and thus had on hand. Each iron-worker was pre-
sented with a token bar of iron by the king, and told to return
after a given time with a specified number of cartridges. The
number, however, was carefully based on the amount of iron
represented by the unsold hoes or other goods a forge had on

424 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

hand after the year's operations, which is to say, on the basis of
the year's surplus, as represented by the current inventory. Sim-
ilarly, weavers were levied on against the products of their looms,
and wood-cutters were assessed on the basis of how much wood
they had gathered.

Certain commodities were royal monopolies. All honey was
reserved by the king, to be used for curing the meat required by
the troops on campaign. In the two districts set aside for the pur-
pose, those who cared for bees also cultivated red and black
pepper and ginger for the palace; otherwise, pepper, which was
highly prized, could only be grown for commercial purposes in
seven districts near Allada. However, the monarch did not make
the mistake of alienating his people by forbidding them to grow
the condiment for themselves, for each farmer was permitted to
cultivate enough plants to yield him a raffia-sack full. But this
was not adequate even for the needs of the simplest households,
so that a man was compelled to buy the remainder in the open
market. Revenue came from the duties levied on the transport of
pepper; forty-six cowrie shells were assessed against each sack
which passed through each customs post, thus assuring an ap-
preciable return to the treasury.

Sales taxes were also a profitable source of income. As has been
indicated in an earlier chapter, Dahomean markets, following a
cycle based on the native four-day week, did a large amount of
business. The taxes were levied in kind and were not high, but
in their aggregate they bulked large. The tax on the sellers of
meat has been mentioned. In addition, all other traders were held
liable for a measure of whatever commodity was offered for sale.
This levy, well documented by those who visited the kingdom
before its conquest by the French, is said today to be so deeply
lodged in tradition that voluntary contributions are still made by
those who do business in the markets for the upkeep of the old
palace and the maintenance, in so far as circumstances permit,
of the pre-European ceremonies for the royal ancestors. The toll
system offered a further means of taxing marketable products,
and many early travelers commented on the toll-gates they en-
countered at intervals. On the main road between the capital,
Abomey, and the principal port, Whydah, there were four of
these posts, and all goods shipped in either direction had to pay
duty at each gate. Porters who carried the goods paid a tax based

THE COST OF GOVERNMENT 425

on the number of trips made, these being recorded for each car-
rier at every toll-gate passed. Grave-diggers and those who di-
rected funeral rites were also taxed, as were the heads of the
various religious cult-houses, but the revenues from these taxes
were of relatively minor economic importance and were levied
mainly because of the political control they afforded.

What was received went for the lavish support of the king and
his entourage; for maintenance and equipment of the army; for
compensating the numerous administrative officials that ruled
the kingdom; and for defraying the cost of the expensive ances-
tral rites of the royal family which were held to assure the con-
tinued survival and prosperity of the kingdom. As among the
Ashanti, every male taxpayer was liable to serve in the army, or,
when summoned, to work on roads or at other communal tasks.
Unlike the Ashanti, however, there was no obligation laid on the
ruler to compensate those who thus gave of their time and labor.
For it is in the impersonal nature of its administration, in the care
with which expected yield was balanced against actual receipts,
and the check on those who handled the moneys of the king, that
the Dahomean monarchy is distinctive among nonliterate so-
cieties. That there was political acumen as well as economic effi-
ciency in the system emerges from the fact that the counts on
which levies were based, and the controls exercised, were effec-
tively masked. On the other hand, the liability of royalty and
subordinate chiefs to the same taxes as were levied on their sub-
jects made for further psychological assuagement of what must
at least have been a heavy burden upon all. 3

OTHER data from West Africa, such as in the case of the Nupe, 4
might be cited to further document the support of government in
nonliterate societies. However, since the general pattern has been
indicated in the two examples just given, we may present mate-
rials from different regions of Africa before proceeding to other
parts of the world and to societies with simpler forms of political
organization. The Baganda supported three more or less inde-
pendent royal establishments: those of the king, who was the
3 Herskovits (1938), I, 107-34. 4 Nadel (1935), 285-7.

426 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

effective ruler of the entire country, of the queen, and of the
king's mother. When taxes were to be levied, the king appointed
a special representative for each district. The prime minister, the
keeper of the royal umbilical cord, the queen, and the king's
mother each similarly named a representative, district by district,
while the representative of the local chief completed the tax-
collecting group in each section. Taxes, on the basis of a count
of houses, were assessed pro forma by the king's agent against
each sub-chief. "The amount usually demanded was a fixed num-
ber of cattle from each sub-chief, and a fixed number of bark-
cloths and one hundred cowry-shells from each peasant; of the
smaller chiefs each paid a number of goats and also a few hoes."

To assemble the levy took two months and more, since such
goods as bark-cloth and hoes had to be made especially for the
purpose, and the cattle had to be gathered. When ready, each
responsible officer took his portion to the district chief, who for-
warded the entire amount to the capital. Here the prime minister
examined it, checked the total against the number of houses and
people in the district as reported by his enumerators, and, if cor-
rect, sent the tribute intact to the king. Should the total not be
correct, the king's agent was required to return to his district and
obtain what was lacking. The total was then divided into two
halves. From the first, each district chief received for himself a
part of what had been collected from those under him and his
subordinates, and the queen, the king's mother, the prime min-
ister, and the keeper of the king's umbilical cord were also al-
lotted their shares. The remaining half was taken over by the
royal treasury. High officers and subsidiary royalty not only re-
tained their shares of the taxes paid by the entire kingdom, but
kept for themselves what was assessed on their own estates and
districts. States tributary to Uganda forwarded their tribute
through the chiefs ruling them; this consisted of cattle, slaves,
ivory, cowrie shells, salt, hoes, and other local products.

The king imposed other levies. The possibilities of sales and
occupational taxes were not overlooked:

Not only in the capital, but also throughout the country dis-
tricts, there were market-places under the supervision of the
authorities, with regular market-fees for the wares which
were offered for sale. Moreover, people in the capital, who

THE COST OF GOVERNMENT 42?

tried to evade the market-dues by selling their goods pri-
vately outside the market-place were liable to heavy fines
and to the confiscation of the goods which they tried to sell.
The market-places in and around the capital were under the
supervision of a special chief appointed by the King, who
collected the dues; these amounted to ten per cent of the
value of each article sold or bought.

Boys and girls were liable to be chosen for service in the palaces
of royalty and of the highest officials. Labor for building the
royal enclosure or new houses in the royal compound, or for re-
pairing the buildings already there, might also be requisitioned,
and road-making was a charge against the labor-power of the
country.

Court cases were a never ending source of revenue for chiefs
as well as royalty. A fee of twenty cowrie shells was paid by a
plaintiff when making his plea, and both he and the defendant
each paid a goat and a bark cloth before the case was tried. Ap-
peals could be taken from lower to higher courts, but each in-
volved the payment of correspondingly heavier fees, while brib-
ery was so rampant that a system of indicating by signs what
would be given for a favorable verdict had been developed to
facilitate this aspect of the administration of justice. Inheritance
taxes also helped the royal budget, since the king received a
share of the property of the deceased. Even more lucrative was
the royal power also found in Dahomey to "break" any chief
who gave the appearance of becoming too rich or too powerful;
a new appointee was expected to show his gratitude in a fitting
manner. 5

To the south, the BaVenda of Rhodesia, despite their less im-
pressive governmental structure, show the same principles of
control of economic surplus by the governing group, and they
possess just as efficient mechanisms for the concentration of this
surplus in the hands of those in power as was seen in the pre-
ceding instances. "Venda chiefs," says Stayt, "are generally rich
out of all proportion to their subjects, obtaining a large revenue
from their lands, taxation, proceeds of justice, and the fees levied
on social functions, as well as many other perquisites/' Free
labor to work a chief's fields makes of them a profitable enter-

Roscoe, 244-5, 452, Ch. VIII.

428 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

prise, while, as elsewhere, an official may call levies to build or
repair his dwellings. Where the great chiefs have land within the
domain of lesser officials, persons who reside in these districts
may be called on to do double work, since both categories of
those in authority must be served. With the consent and approval
of the ruler's council, taxes in hoes and goats may be levied after
"prevailing conditions and the ability of the people to pay" are
taken into consideration. Petty chiefs, responsible for collecting
this tax within their districts, receive a part of what they gather,
though what they receive depends upon the goodwill of the
ruler. Today, when a money tax is levied, citizens who are absent
from the land are liable, and special messengers are sent to col-
lect their share from the men working in the gold-fields of the
Rand.

Fines, here as elsewhere, add to the revenue of a chief, who
as judge is entitled to a part of what is paid by the loser in a
suit; where a considerable amount is involved, the gratitude of
the winner is shown by a gift of several additional head of cattle.
In pre-European days, "large windfalls" came through the con-
viction of murderers and sorcerers, whose families and property
were forfeit to the chief. Skins of all lions and leopards had to
be given to chiefs and petty chiefs, who also received a hind leg
of all cattle or wild game killed near their seats of government.
Puberty ceremonies, even today, bring revenue in cash or serv-
ices; perhaps the only revenue which Venda chiefs do not re-
ceive when compared with their fellows in other parts of Africa
is that derived in connection with the inheritance of property.
For, as far as is reported, no inheritance tax is found.

IT is all but impossible to find materials concerning the fiscal
policies of tribes outside Africa comparable to those available
for that continent, though it is clear that some part of the eco-
nomic surplus is everywhere allocated for the support of those
who rule. As has already been pointed out, one of the methodo-
logical problems derives from the fact that the less complex the
political organization, the less specialized are the institutions and
6 Stayt, 105, 217 ff.

THE COST OF GOVERNMENT 429

the mechanisms that ensure their perpetuation, and conse-
quently the more difficult it is to segregate them for purposes of
study and analysis. This difficulty is enhanced where the eco-
nomic system is of a similar generalized character, or where, as
in the Pacific area, the problem of getting a living is relatively
simple. Yet taxes or their equivalent are almost always to be
found. Even though they may take the form of labor rather than
goods, or consist of goods which all produce and have, the under-
lying process corresponds to that which has been observed in
more specific form among African peoples and is still more
sharply distinguishable in historic civilizations.

Some of the hints in the literature regarding the manner in
which the taxing process operated in the South Seas can be given
here to supplement the evidence presented in the preceding
chapter, where the existence in the area of a leisure class, whose
economic function is that of consumer rather than that of pro-
ducer, was considered. When a large house was to be built for
a chief in Mangaia, he summoned the members of his tribe to do
the work, though on occasion another tribe might be called to
work while the host's subjects provided the essential feasts. That
this latter was a shrewd move is attested by the observation that
the visitors "usually did harder work than they would at home,
being stimulated by the desire to make a name for themselves." 7
In the establishment of a Marquesan person of rank, tasks neces-
sitating manual labor were performed by his dependents, who
were given food and shelter. However, when there were not
enough dependents to perform a given piece of work, supple-
mentary labor was conscripted. Whenever such a servitor be-
came dissatisfied with his forced labor and ran away, a war
leader was sent to seek him out and kill him. 8

All Tongan land, and its products, were ultimately the prop-
erty of the supreme ruler; and the same was true of the land
ruled by each of the lesser chiefs, though the areas under their
control were subject to the demands of their superior. First
fruits, or the first of any catch of fish, were the prerogative of the
chiefs. The Tui Tonga received the direct tribute of those farm-
ers who lived near him, while those at a distance delivered their
contribution to the local chief, who forwarded the prescribed
portion to this supreme head of government. One of the important

7 Hiroa ( 1934), 130-1. * Handy ( 1923), 47-8.

430 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

chiefs, the Tui Kanokupolu, appointed inspectors to see that he
obtained his due. All foodstuffs in his district were tapu to him,
so that such a sign as a sharp stick thrust into the trunk of the
banana tree, or some coconut leaves hanging from the branches
of a breadfruit tree, warned the commoner not to touch what had
been reserved for this grandee on pain of being thrashed, or of
death itself. All large pigs were reserved for those of high degree,
while "a fisherman caught eating a large fish might have his
tongue pulled out, or be thrashed, or even killed." Pigeon-snaring,
like other sports, was reserved to chiefs, and they pre-empted all
the birds that were caught, since whipping or death was the
penalty for a commoner caught eating a pigeon. 9

Tapu on Tikopia, while here not the exclusive prerogative of
chiefs, can have serious economic repercussions; though some of
these taboos may be imposed by individuals, their sanctions in
the main can be referred to fear or reverence of the chief. Four
types are distinguished:

Taboo Economic Effects

Imposed by throwing the firestick Inhibits the felling of sago palms in

Uta for nearly two months.

Funeral prohibitions: Diversion to poorer foods, accumu-

(a) on richer foods lation of reserves to small extent,

(b) on plucking coco-nuts diversion of productive energies

(d) on canoe fishing

Restriction of access to taro land or Retention of individual advantage;
individual cultivations. limitation on general freedom of

utilization.

Restriction on taking coco-nuts. Restraint on immediate consump-

tion with increased future con-
sumption. Immediate diversion in
part to other food-stuffs.

To this, and other influences of the chief on production are to be
added his economic role as 'consumer. "He is the recipient from
his people of periodic gifts of food and special types of raw mate-
rial which, sporadic in the case of any individual contributor,
nevertheless form in toto a steady stream of additions to his
wealth." Much of what he receives he redistributes; as among the
Ashanti, the obligations of the chief toward his people are

"Gifford (1929), 102-6, 117.

THE COST OF GOVERNMENT 43!

heavy, and must be met under terms of the duties of his office. 10
Perhaps the clearest statement of the relationship between
commoners and chiefs in the South Seas is one which protests a
proposed suppression of the custom of "begging" on Fiji, where
in earlier days the power of the nobles to draft labor for their
own purposes was considerable. Championing the old custom,
an article in the Native Gazette of July 11, 1905, pleads its case
in the following terms:

What is Fijian begging? Begging is the requisition of the
common folk. See, the commons in Fiji cannot make requisi-
tions, for requisitions are the chiefs part. But what are
requisitions? Requisitions are begging on a very big scale;
they have not ceased, but are allowed by the law. Well, the
commoner has begging as his only requisition. . . . The
chiefs, they are free to go on putting levies upon us but then
we are undone by it since we are forbidden to beg. Who is
the commoner to approach you nobles and say, "Please pay
me, Sir, for what I have done, or for the food I have
brought,'* or whatever it be? Impossible. If your requisitions
cease, your calls on us, your proclamations, your pomp, then
will begging cease. 11

THE ADMINISTRATION of the Inca empire of pre-Spanish Peru
represents the most highly developed governmental system in
the aboriginal New World. Seconded only by the Aztec and
Mayan states, the methods of control and the efficiency with
which the business of the state was managed are famous. We
need here, therefore, only outline those methods which bear on
the problem of how in Peru the support of a ruling class was
achieved through the diversion of the economic surplus, to supply
their needs, before examining a few further instances of this
process in aboriginal North America.

10 Raymond Firth ( 1939), 202, tion," which are not germane to the

21 2 if. The table given here omits point under discussion in these

the two central columns of the orig- pages,
inal, "Social Context" and "Sane- u Hocart, 100-02.

432 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

Essentially, the Inca state was a federation of a large number of
conquered local political entities. Because of the close control
necessitated by this manner of growth, there gradually came into
being an ever increasing bureaucracy, which in time was charged
with seeing that production was maintained and that commodi-
ties were distributed in accordance with the regulations set
down by the ruling powers. As in some African kingdoms, a
census was kept of population and resources, quipus, or knotted
cords, being used. Tribute in goods and, more importantly, in
services was levied against each province on the basis of this
count. In some regions the labor draft took the form of agri-
cultural work, elsewhere work in the mines was commanded,
while each craftsman was required to produce a specified quota
of goods cloth, stone-carvings, and the like from materials
supplied him by his overseers. Accounts had to balance; they
were kept in duplicate so that the provincial governors might
be protected against peculation after the tribute required of
them had been delivered. One of the early writers has given a list
of those exempt from tribute, which is significant for our discus-
sion: all persons of royal blood and all rulers of provinces and
their families; all officers of the army, except those of the lowest
rank, and the sons and grandsons of these officers thus exempted;
all minor officials "if sprung from the people" while in office;
soldiers on active duty, though these might be regarded as paying
their tribute by means of their army service; "youths" below
twenty-five years of age and "elderly men" over fifty, though both
these groups were expected to help kinsmen who might be liable
to the tribute; women, sick persons, and those incapacitated; and
the priests of the Sun.

What was the disposition of the goods collected, and the use
to which the man-power was put? In essence, the political
supremacy of the rulers, exerted in the economic sphere, was
utilized not only to maintain the ruling group in luxury, but also
to assure those who supported them an adequate standard of
living. This necessitated a controlled redistribution, when nec-
essary, of the goods produced, and also implied a program of
public works; and both of these were efficiently realized, if
contemporary observers are to be relied on. Included in the latter
was the remarkable system of roads that connected the principal
centers and outlying districts of the country, the bridges that car-

THE COST OF GOVERNMENT 433

ried these roads over streams and canyons, the aqueducts that
guaranteed a supply of water where it was needed, storehouses
where surplus food was held for use in times of famine, the
dwellings of the rulers and headquarters of administrative offi-
cials. As for the receipts from the taxing process, what remained
after the wants of royalty had been satisfied were stored and
drawn on when required. In the main, however, the directed agri-
cultural work provided all with food, and other activities supplied
the remaining needs. It is recounted that while thieves were
severely punished, a man who stole because he needed food or
other necessities of life went unpunished, while the jurisdictional
official whose task it was to see that such needs were met suffered
the penalty. 12

THE ESSENTIALLY democratic tradition of most American Indian
tribes and their relatively simple economies has made the exist-
ence of a well-defined class of rulers the exception rather than the
rule among them. Where chiefs direct the life of the people, they
function more as leaders among equals than in the manner of
African or Oceanic or Asiatic rulers, or those of the pre-Spanish
societies of Peru, Central America, and Mexico. In Taos, a
governor and a council constitute the ruling body, controlling the
war captains whose chief function is today to police the pueblo.
Fines or confiscated properties are divided among the officers, but
other than this there is but little return to them for their services. 13
Chiefs of Hopi villages and clans and their households were,
and in some cases still are, supported in some measure by their
followers, who cultivated their fields for them. And while "the
chief did not himself demand and organize these services,"
which were voluntary, they constituted a generally recognized
duty, and made it possible for these leaders not to "engage di-
rectly in any economic activity/' 14

Among such California tribes as the Nisenan ( southern Maidu )
and the Patwin, the chief was characteristically a wealthy man,
who used his wealth to maintain his prestige. The return such a

12 Joyce, 102 ff,; Means, Ch. VIII. 14 Forde ( 1931 ), 376.

13 Parsons ( 1936a), 71-2.

434 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

chief enjoyed for his services was appreciable in the light of the
resources of his people, even though from an absolute point
of view what he received was not a great deal, consisting of gifts
of game or fish, or pre-emptive rights to especially productive
groves of oak trees. The Patwin chief and his family did not have
to hunt, fish, or gather foodstuffs; in addition he could also
levy upon his people to satisfy special wants, such as calling the
young men to gather firewood; while his daughter could summon
young women to collect grass seeds. 15

The chief of the Californian Nomlaki, "aside from the social
prestige of the office itself, . . . gained status through his
wealth." The sources of this wealth, in general terms, were as
follows:

He was in a position to trade with outside persons as well
as with villagers. Furthermore, he apparently used the
supplies brought in by other people for his trading activities.
The chieftain also enjoyed an immunity from the more menial
tasks, such as rope-making and hunting, and lived from the
produce of his fellows' labors, just as he enhanced his wealth
by using their goods as capital in trading. Also because of his
position he was expected to marry rich wives usually sev-
eral of them which in turn improved his economic position.

His duties were varied. He exhorted the people: "Do right, don't
get into trouble, help your neighbor." He apportioned communal
tasks. He was arbiter of disputes and ruled on decisions by the
villagers to embark on a given project, such as building a dance
house. As concerns the more strictly economic aspects of his
role, we learn:

He kept on hand a supply of perishable necessities of life
for use when visitors came to trade. It was his duty to be
always in a position to trade. Thus a war might be ended by
an agreement to barter goods, and it was apparently nec-
essary for the prestige of the group to make a good showing
in these postwar negotiations. Furthermore, any family fall-
ing short of food replenished its stock from the chiefs larder.
Such loans from the headman's supply were either paid for
with beads, rope or some other item of fairly standard value,
15 Beals, 360; McKern, 242-6.

THE COST OF GOVERNMENT 435

or later returned in kind. Acorns were, however, kept in a
common granary to be drawn on by each family. They were
not the property of the headman, but it was his duty to see
that no person took more than his reasonable share. The role
of the chief as an economic stabilizer was reflected in a
similar pattern in connection with feasts. The rabbits killed
for a ceremonial occasion were placed in a common pile and
redistributed by the chief to the family heads according to
their individual needs. Each family would roast and pound
their rabbits, making patties of the pounded meat. A youth
was sent around to collect one of the patties from each
family head for the chief, who thus had a supply of meat for
any latecomers, or for children who became hungry later in
the evening. 16

The essential democracy of Plains Indian life inhibited any
marked development of economically privileged classes. The
Omaha had a Council of Seven Chiefs who, with the aid of offi-
cers to keep the peace, organized communal buffalo hunts, con-
firmed leaders, made peace with other tribes, and were generally
charged with the administration of tribal affairs. But membership
in the council was not hereditary, entrance to the order of chiefs
being only possible through the performance of certain pre-
scribed acts and the giving of certain gifts. These gifts "were
not only in recognition of their high office and authority as the
governing power of the tribe but to supply them with the means
to meet the demands made upon them because of their official
position/' Since chiefs did not have the time to hunt as did
ordinary men, and thus could not secure "a large supply of food
or ... the raw material needed for the manufacture of articles
suitable ... as gifts to visitors, the gifts made by aspirants to
tribal office therefore partook of the nature of payment to the
Chiefs and Keepers for the services they rendered to the peo-
ple/' "

Certain tribes of southeastern United States were marked by
the unusual development, for North America, of a highly de-
veloped class structure. The Natchez were divided into two
classes: the nobles, headed by the Great Sun, and the commoners,

10 Goldschrnidt, 324-5. 1T Fletcher and LaFleche, 206 ff.,

212-13.

436 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

or stinkards. "What distinguishes them/' said Charlevoix, "is the
form of their government, entirely despotic; a great independ-
ence, which extends even to a kind of slavery in the subjects,
more pride and grandeur in the chiefs," The chief, according to
Le Petit, was blindly obeyed by his people. From the point of
view of the public support given him as agent of government, the
comments that he was "absolute master not only of their property
but of their lives," and that "whatever labors he commands them
to execute, they are forbidden to exact any wages," reveal a
mechanism by now familiar to us. Subjects were obliged to yield
up "the best of their harvest, and of their hunting and fishing,"
in addition to being liable for services. The reaction to these
obligations was not unlike that in other societies, as is attested by
the statement of Charlevoix that the royal settlement was not
populous because the people, realizing that the great chief
could take for himself any of their possessions, formed their
villages "at some distance" from the seat of government. 18

The only detailed account of taxation in any North American
tribe is that given for the Kwakiutl Indians of the Northwest
Coast. The contributions levied for this purpose have been set
forth with a vividness only possible when such material is
given in the aboriginal statement. This can be profitably quoted
at length, and needs no comment:

This also was asked by you about the early Indians. Indeed,
they work for the head chiefs of the numaym. When the
hunter goes out hunting, and he gets many seals, the hunter
takes one of the seals and gives the seals as a present to the
head chief of his numaym; for he cannot give one-half of
them (to the chief) even if the hunter has obtained many
seals and give a feast with the other half left from what he
had given to the chief. Therefore, the hunter takes one seal
for food for his children and his wife. The hunter, who does
so, is treated well by the chief. If a stingy hunter gives half of
his seals to the chief because he prefers the price offered by
another chief of another numaym, then the chief of the
hunter's numaym tries to kill the hunter, and often the chief
strikes the hunter so that he dies, if the chief is a bad man;
and, therefore, the chiefs of the various numaym own

18 Swanton (1911), 101-02, 110.

THE COST OF GOVERNMENT 437

hunters. The seals are all given to the chiefs by the hunters,
for the meat of the seal is not dried.

Mountain goat hunters, when they get ten goats by hunt-
ing, give five goats to the chief of the numaym, and the goat
hunter keeps the other five goats and dries the meat. Some-
times the chief cuts up the goat meat for his numaym, when
he wishes to do so. If he wishes to dry it, he does that way.
When the chief is a good man, he does not take the goat
away from the hunter by force, and the good chief never
thinks that one-half given to him by the hunter is not enough.
If a chief is bad, he wishes more than half to be given to him
by the goat hunter, and if the goat hunter does not wish to
give more than half of the goats, then the bad chief will take
them away by force. Then the bad chief may kill the goat
hunter, but generally the goat hunter kills the bad chief,
if he overdoes what he says to the hunter.

Now ... I will talk about dry salmon obtained by the
salmon-fisher. If one hundred are caught ... he gives twenty
salmon to the chief of his numaym, and sometimes more than
twenty, if the chief and the salmon-fisher are both good-
minded, but when (both) are bad, then the salmon given
to the chief is less, for there are only ten salmon given by the
fisherman to the chief. Sometimes, the salmon-fisher has
more than a thousand dry salmon caught in the river. Then
generally the chief and the fisherman quarrel and often fight
until one of them is killed. . . .

Now I will talk about those who dig cinquefoil. When the
woman and her husband go to dig cinquefoil roots in their
garden-beds . . . the woman . . . takes her digging stick
and her two baskets and . . . throws the short roots into the
larger basket and she throws the longer roots into the smaller
basket. ... As soon as ( she is ) done, she goes home to her
winter house. The cedar-bark baskets which are to be given
to the chief are put in a canoe in a separate place. As soon
as the woman . . . and her husband arrive on the beach of
their house, the man shouts to the chief and asks him to
come to meet him, and the chief usually comes down at once
to meet the woman who has dug the cinquefoil roots, and
when she arrives at the beach, the husband . . . shows the
cedar-bark baskets with long roots to the chief. He says to

438 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

him, "These are given to you by my wife, chief," and the
chief thanks him for his word. . . . He does not give any of
the baskets with the short cinquefoil roots, and the common
men eat the short cinquefoil roots.

And this is the way with all kinds of berry cakes. When
there are five bundles of berry cakes obtained by the woman
who has picked the berries, she gives one bundle of berry
cakes to the wife of the chief. . . . Often the wife of the
chief thinks that one bundle of berry cakes is not enough;
that is, if the wife of the chief is a bad woman many times
the two women quarrel. ... If the woman is strong when
picking . . . berries . . . when the berry picker has two
hundred bundles of dried berry cakes, she gives forty
bundles to the wife of the chief. . . .

Of all the different kinds of food, a little is given to the
chief by those who belong to his numaym: clams, mussels,
small mussels, and horse clams. Of all of these, a little is
given to the wife of the chief by the woman who digs shell
fish. . . .

. . . About the hunter. When he has shot three bears, he
gives one to the chief of his numayn and he keeps two bears;
and when a sea hunter has killed three sea otters, he gives
one to the chief of his numaym. This is done with everything
that is obtained by hunters and sea hunters and canoe
builders. The canoe is generally given to the chief. 19

IT is apparent from the preceding pages that the cost of govern-
ment is a substantial charge upon the productive capacities of
those societies where the services of a governing group are
employed. It will be remembered, however, that in discussing the
economic surplus and its partition, it was stated that those re-
lieved in whole or in part of the necessity of providing their own
primary subsistence needs included the intermediaries between
man and the supernatural world as well as the rulers. We must,
therefore, proceed to an examination of the mechanisms which
assure support to those concerned with the world of the super-
natural in the societies where they act as mediators.
19 Boas (1921), 1333 ff.

CHAPTER XX

THE SERVICE OF THE
SUPERNATURAL

WE HAVE seen that to estimate what may be termed the national
budget of nonliterate societies is difficult. At most, what can be
indicated is an estimate of the participation of rulers in the
wealth produced by the community as a whole, and the return
in the way of public works and security that the people enjoy
for their contributions. In the case of priests, workers of magic,
diviners, and others who manipulate the supernatural powers
of the universe, the problem is even more perplexing.

One of the major difficulties derives from the fact that, in so
many nonliterate cultures, the functions of the ruler and of the
mediator with the supernatural are discharged by the same in-
dividual. This has been clearly expressed by Landtman, where,
in his attempt to account for the origin and persistence of social
classes, he considers the differentiation of priests as a group:

The union of the highest sacerdotal and civil dignities may
have taken place in connection with the general development
of leaders. In an early state of society there exists little or
no contrariety between the spiritual and social or political
powers; thus, as a rule, a certain civil authority is always
attached to the priesthood. The same superiority which
raised a man to the position of a chief may make him a spirit-
ual headman as well. 1

We are, of course, concerned here no more than we have been
elsewhere in this book with the matter of origins. But if we
Landtman (1938), 136.

439

44O ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

rephrase "in an early state of society" to read "cultures having
simple economies," the matter resolves itself into the problem
of the degree of specialization permitted by the technology of a
given group.

In terms of accounting concepts the problem we face is that
of discovering what part of their resources a people devote to
meeting the costs of management and social and psychic insur-
ance. Where there is little surplus, the personnel susceptible of
being diverted from productive activities is so small that in some
instances no one individual can devote his full time to the duties
which correspond to those of rulers and priests in more prosper-
ous communities. In such cases, or even where one or two persons
can in part be supported by their fellows, these officials will
therefore execute the functions of both types of specialists. It
is possible that the rule of elders, such as is found in the ger-
ontocracies of Australian tribes, actually represents a device
whereby those who can no longer provide for themselves are
compensated for the services they can still perform in directing
the affairs of men and in assuring benevolence on the part of the
supernatural.

The question of the nature of religion, and the extent to which
its subjective and ceremonial manifestations are determined by
the economic setting in which it occurs, cannot be considered
here. Whatever the role of the professional in religious matters,
and whatever the degree of his devotion to the beings he serves,
the fact remains that even those most attuned to the supernatural
world must provide for their mundane wants. It is thus under-
standable how professionals, especially in more complex cultures,
number among them those to whom ease of living is an important
objective. This fact, and the fact that a certain esprit de corps is
often found among those whose position in society releases them
from manual labor, account for the active co-operation existing
in many nonliterate societies between the rulers and their priests,
shamans, diviners, or medicine-men. This point offers us the most
promising lead to an understanding of some of the ways in which
those who are in the service of the supernatural obtain their
economic support from the community they serve, and yields
some insight into how their identity with the rulers gives a fur-
ther instance of the less specialized form which institutions take
in nonliterate societies when compared with ourselves.

THE SERVICE OF THE SUPERNATURAL 441

A STUDY of this phenomenon among the Yokuts and Western
Mono tribes of California will make the point. 2 Here the support-
ing economic system was relatively simple. No impressive eco-
nomic surplus existed, though "before white intrusion, game,
acorns, seeds and tule roots formed an abundant food supply
in the San Joachim valley/' There was little property in land, an
absence of codified law to guard nonexistent special privilege,
and "equality of rank among the people at large, that is, the
absence of a class system." There were certain lineages which
were "mildly aristocratic," but differences in social status grew
out of the recognition of individual abilities, such as the power
to obtain goods which were destroyed or given away, or the
ability to acquire supernatural power, or to be an orator of dis-
tinction.

The power of the chief derived from the prestige of his office
and the wealth his position brought him. His house was larger
than the houses of commoners, and he was provided with food
by the young hunters of his village. His storehouses had always
to be well filled, since he was expected to entertain any outsider
who might come to the village and also to support the poor and
aged. He alone might have two wives, since only he could afford
to support them and since his duties as dispenser of hospitality
made their assistance necessary. His "monetary wealth/' which
surpassed that of any of his subjects, was derived from his mo-
nopoly on the trade in eagle products and his control over inter-
tribal commerce. He shared, moreover, in the payments made
doctors of his tribe when dances were given for entertainment,
since an invitation, with a gift of money, was sent a chief when
it was desired that he come and bring his shamans. The latter
received the donations of the audience, and both chief and
shamans thus profited. This same system of holding dances was
the means of levying taxes, the mechanism operating as follows:

The chief requested certain performances, sanctioned others,
that cost money: doctors and dancers did not dance and
winatuns (messengers) did not run errands for nothing,

2 Gayton, 372-7, 398-401, 407 ff.

442 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

But it was the spectators who paid the expenses. The chief
was, and was regarded as, the ceremonial leader of his com-
munity of whom it was said "he gave this dance, he made
that mourning ceremony," etc., in spite of the fact that it
was the public at large who paid for them. No public taxes
were levied and placed in a general fund, but the more sim-
ple expedient of having the persons present at any ceremony
contribute on the spot produced the same result.

Since the main duty of the chief was to see that the ceremonial
activities of the tribe were properly carried out, this "tax" was
thus a means of ensuring return to him for his services to the
community.

The shaman was able to manipulate the supernatural for both
good and evil. This left him "in an equivocal position" so that
whether he was more feared than respected depended on his
character and reputation. His power, which was "exclusively
occult," came from his dream experiences. Anyone might have
these dreams, but some persons had more of them than others
and each dream brought him closer to supernatural power and
gave him the ability to do the doctoring that made of him a
professional. Some of those whose dream experiences entitled
them to doctor did so with hesitation, or refused to exercise their
power, because of the danger of being killed if they failed in a
cure, for a failure laid the practitioner open to the suspicion of
witchcraft.

When a patient fell ill, a fee was sent the shaman when he
was summoned. He received an additional amount when he
began his curing, and this, often a considerable sum, was not
given back even if the patient failed to recover, for the relatives
of the dead man preferred to allow the fee to be retained rather
than incur enmity by asking for its return. "This custom of
retaining the fee increased the shaman's wealth and augmented
the belief that doctors made people ill just to get their money."
Curing was believed to be essentially a contest between two
shamans. One had caused the sickness, and another, because of
his superior power, attempted to overcome the baleful influence
of his rival.

It is apparent that the controlling forces in Yokuts life were
the chief and the shaman. Since they co-operated more often

THE SERVICE OF THE SUPERNATURAL 443

than they came into conflict, it is important to understand the
mechanisms and results of this co-operation, which, in summary,
"greatly increased the wealth of the chief on the one hand, and
protected the shaman from the violence of avenging relatives
on the other." An instance to show what happened when a man
of means exercised his theoretical right not to contribute to some
ceremony ordained by his chief may be taken by reproducing
these passages from the account of a native:

If a man, especially a rich one, did not join in a fandango,
the chief and his doctors would plan to make this man or
some member of his family sick. The doctor would sicken
his victim . . . [and would] ... see to it that he is called
in to make the cure. He makes several successive attempts
to cure his victim, each time being paid for his services. He
withholds his cure until he has finally broken the man and
got him into debt. . . . The money which the shaman has
collected as fees in the case he divides with the chief. Should
the victim's relatives seek vengeance, for which they must
obtain the chiefs permission, the chief refuses his sanction
on the ground of insufficient evidence.

Other situations in which chiefs and shamans might collaborate
to the economic advantage of both are also indicated:

The chief always had money. People made him presents
when he was going to give a ceremony. If he got short of
money he would have his doctor kill somebody who was rich.
If the victim chosen belonged to another tribe he would send
a gift of money to the chief of that tribe asking that he have
his doctor kill the man. If the chief accepted the money he
had his doctor proceed with the process of sickening and
killing the man. The money received was divided between
the chief and the doctor. Doctors who killed this way made
sure that the patient would finally send for him by making
him more sick for every other doctor that the sick man sent
for. Usually we had good chiefs with good doctors, but some-
times even a good chief would bribe a doctor to kill some
man he thought ought to be killed.

This picture is not as sinister as might seem at first glance. For
if shamanism was a force that destroyed life, it also preserved

444 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

it; if the chief abused the power he derived from his alliance
with those who manipulated supernatural forces, he would suffer
censure in a subsequent loss of prestige and the possibility of
untimely death. There was even some "moral" justification for the
intrigues of chiefs and shamans:

A chief who hired a shaman to sicken a rich man who did
not join in the expenses of a fandango or mourning ceremony
was setting a public example at the same time that he was
enriching himself. To the chief and to his shaman, who
shared the money paid in fees by the sick man, it was un-
questionably a matter of financial profit. But from the point
of view of the public at large it was a fair punishment. Thus:
a man of money who neglected or refused to bear his share
of a public expense was placing a heavier financial burden
upon his fellow-citizens. ... In the absence of any law or
system of taxation, it behooved each citizen, especially those
of wealth, to participate in the sharing of public expenses,
lest he incur the displeasure of the chief and of the public,
and sickness or death be visited upon him.

Thus the law was upheld, and assurance was given that the
obligations of every member of the community were properly
met. In the process those who enforced the law and provided it
the sanctions needed for its enforcement were enriched. If, be-
cause of their law-enforcing power, they sometimes co-operated
so as to enrich themselves, this is merely due to the fact that in
the elaboration of the patterns underlying any institution, an
increasing variation in behavior may eventuate in what in terms
of the culture appears as abuse of power.

THE PRECEDING instance of co-operation between rulers and those
who control the supernatural world has been taken from a culture
of slight technological achievement and of simple economic and
political organization where the highly personal nature of the
religious life causes little attention to be given cult organization.
How, in comparison, co-operation between rulers and priests is

THE SERVICE OF THE SUPERNATURAL 445

effected in a much more complex society, and the economic
consequences of such co-operation, may next be considered.
For this we shall return to Dahomey.

As with the rulers of this kingdom, the economic role of the
priest is principally that of a consumer. Every priest has his cult-
house, where the novitiates are lodged who come to him for
instruction in the nature of the gods they are to worship, and for
training in the cult-practices they will follow. While in the cult-
house, novitiates are fully provided for by members of their
families or their spouses. Those responsible for the maintenance
of a person in training must also render gifts to the priest in
charge, and in addition must see to it that someone gives the
equivalent of fifteen days' work in his fields. The gods themselves
must likewise be given sacrifices on ceremonial occasions, or
when suppliants come to ask for favors. These sacrifices, which
take the form of animals, cooked foods of various kinds, and
money, are for the support of the deity. The support of a shrine,
however, includes the maintenance of those attached to it, and
since they consume the flesh of the sacrificial animals, these
sacrifices can be regarded as operating to swell the income of the
priest in charge and of his more important subordinates. During
the great rituals, large numbers of animals, considerable gifts of
money, many fine mats (that can only be employed once in the
service of the gods), and large quantities of food are proffered
by those who attend. It is thus to be seen that the not incon-
siderable return to the priesthood takes its place beside the cost
of maintaining the monarchy as a substantial charge against the
income of this people.

It will be remembered that in discussing the taxation policy
of the Dahomean monarchy, the indirection which marked the
collection of census and other data was stressed as a major factor
in policy. It will also be recalled that, in the case of certain goods,
especially livestock, it was stated that the technique of indirec-
tion was in certain cases implemented through active collabora-
tion between priests and taxing authorities. This point may now
be documented.

At times, on a market-day, a crier would be dispatched by the
chief priest of the feared and powerful spirit of a sacred river,
the Halan, to apprise the populace that this spirit had threatened

446 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

a poor harvest and an epidemic among the livestock. Every man
and woman was, therefore, instructed to bring to the palace
within three days a cowrie shell for each of his animals to appease
the wrath of this being one shell for each goat, one for each
head of cattle, and one for each sheep and to deposit the shells
for each kind of animal separately. Before the cowries were
brought, each animal was to be touched with the shell repre-
senting it, in order that the threatening danger might be trans-
ferred to the shell. A ritual fringe of palm-fronds was also to be
placed about the neck of each beast to make the spiritual quaran-
tine more effective.

Since the people complied in all haste, these results were
achieved: as something having value was given, there was an
assurance that no more than the correct amount of cowries would
be accumulated; as the value of one shell was extremely slight,
no economic burden that might of itself have been resented
was imposed. The shells thus collected made an impressive total,
and the king, not unmindful of its effect, demonstrated his con-
cern by doubling this number before the entire sum was sent
to the chief priest who had issued the warning. All benefited,
therefore; the royal bureaucracy, by retaining an equal number
of pebbles as the number of shells forwarded to the priest, had
an accurate count of the animals kind by kind and village by
village, on which to base their fiscal computations; the people
received reassurance that a threatened danger would be avoided,
and at an extremely low cost; and the priests received their due
in remuneration and gratitude from the monarch with whom they
co-operated and from the people whom they served.

The identical device could not, of course, be employed time
after time. Variations were introduced on the principal theme.
For instance, a different category of gods would become incensed
with the people, and for differing reasons. Or different methods
of making the supernatural ill-will known, often in themselves
indirect, were employed, as when dead animals were found at
various crossroads, and their owners, seeking out the diviners,
discovered "independently" why these misfortunes had come
upon them. The procedure in averting continuing disaster was
invariably the same; the process of assuring income to the king-
dom was facilitated, the support of the king, in so far as this type
of tax was concerned, was aided, and the priests were the more

THE SERVICE OF THE SUPERNATURAL 447

richly rewarded for their services in directing affairs according to
supernatural will. 3

THE OFFICES of political headman and spiritual leader may be
merged even where a considerable surplus over the subsistence
needs of the people is present. In Polynesia, to cite an out-
standing instance, though the economic system afforded adequate
support for an impressive number of persons engaged in non-
productive activities, the distinction between chief and priest is
often not clear. Handy envisages this as the result of an emergent
differentiation of function in the area "the development of the
complicated polity of the larger social and political groups out
of the simple patriarchal family." In its "simple rudimental form"
the three religious functions found in the islands the divine
chief, the prophet, and the priest were combined in one indi-
vidual, as in Samoa and Tahiti. The next step finds the village
or tribal chiefs, heads of "but expanded families," serving as
diviners and priests. Finally, in more complex Polynesian cultures,
chiefs and religious leaders were completely differentiated ex-
cept at the apex of the system, where, as in Hawaii, the ruler
was head of the religious cult. Differentiation throughout the
entire system existed in Tonga and the Marquesan Islands. 4

Williamson, in surveying the social and political systems of
the islands on the basis of the earlier literature, is explicit re-
garding the vagueness of the distinction made between secular
and religious officials:

So far as chiefs are concerned . . . there can be no doubt
that in many ... of the islands the chiefs did engage largely
in religious acts and ceremonies. Many of them were in fact
. . . priests also, and it is probable that writers often refer to
people as chiefs who were really priests, and vice versa,
whilst in a number of cases they were probably both. 5

This is apparent from Firth's analysis of the role of what he
terms "economic ritual" in Tikopia. He regards such ritual as

3 Herskovits (1938), I, 102-03, 4 Handy (1927), 135-8.

118-20. 5 Williamson (1924), III, 32.

448 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

"essentially a conservative force" which "helps in the perpetua-
tion of the system of production and distribution in vogue in
the society, and in particular, in the maintenance of the eco-
nomic position of people of rank." This operates in the following
manner:

The titular ownership of lands, springs of water, and canoes
by the chiefs; the assistance that is given to them in many
of their undertakings; the gifts of food brought to them,
hang upon the belief of all members of the community that
the chiefs are the representatives of the gods and the ances-
tors in whose power the fertility and efficient functioning of
the system of production lie.

Returning to Williamson, we find him speaking of "certain
priests, who appear to have belonged to the classes which I am
calling official and hereditary priests," who "in one or two cases
. . ." were

appointed by the chiefs to act as priests; some of them were
themselves chiefs; in some cases their priestly offices had
probably been for long past hereditary in their aristocratic
families. ... In most cases we find an association between
sacred and secular offices in the fact that these priests were
themselves orators or secular officials. 7

The religious establishments were afforded generous support
in these islands. Even though the offerings to the gods, and of
gifts of food in particular, were either consumed by the wor-
shippers or, at the larger festivals, were redistributed to them in
substantial part, an appreciable residue was left for the upkeep
of the ecclesiastical establishment. Thus, at the ceremony for the
first fruits, "large quantities of food were brought to the public
assembly ground and piled into an immense heap." This food was
then divided "between the gods, the priests, the marae attendants,
the chiefs and the commoners." 8

Mangaia was one of these islands where the functions of
priests and rulers were differentiated. We need but consider the
roster of the more important priests to recognize how substantial

Raymond Firth (1939), 171. * Williamson (1937), 121-2,

7 Op. cit, III, 46. 252-3.

THE SERVICE OF THE SUPERNATURAL 449

a charge against the resources of the community their support
must have been. There was an "inland high-priest" whose
sanctity "held so long as he restricted himself to his religious
duties"; for such specialization he was "rewarded for his services
with liberal grants of land by the Temporal Lord," and "also
received official shares of food at public feasts, besides presents
of food on ordinary occasions." The "shore high-priest" defended
the coast against the spirits that were believed to come from the
west; he also received grants of land "confirmed or added to by
the various Temporal Lords in recognition of the priest's serv-
ices." This priest also had a special right to all the turtles that
were caught. The "ruler of food" controlled the fertility of fields,
and was charged with the imposition of closed seasons over
agricultural districts and fishing grounds that had been used to
excess. At public feasts held during peace-times, he controlled
the distribution of food, and even in times of war conquest did
not affect his position so long as he attended only to the provi-
sioning of the warriors of his tribe.

Tribal gods had their own priests, who wielded much power
within their own groups. As learned men who controlled the
voices of the gods, they acted as a court of last resort in settling
"knotty problems with regard to war and tribal politics." "Some
priests," we are told, "used the voice of the god to further their
own personal ends . . . [but] . . . the voice of the god was used
for humane purposes as well." This was especially true where
it was a question of professional solidarity: "Some priests pro-
tected people from death by secreting them in the curtained
chamber of the house set apart for the second image of their
god . . . the men recorded as so saved were priests of other
gods. . . ." Feasts, important elements in worship, were given
"by powerful families or by a whole tribe," who contributed
vegetable food from their own gardens. The food was displayed
to as great advantage as possible, a familiar method in all the
island region for attaining prestige, and was carefully divided
so that those ministering to the deities would not be slighted.
At such feasts the tribal priests were given three allotments, the
ariki priests three allotments, the Temporal Lord one allotment,
the district chiefs one allotment each, and the sub-district chiefs
one allotment for each district group, while finally "a long single

450 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

spread** where the commoners were fed "was laid for those
without any title or distinction." 9

The expense entailed in the support of the Tahitian priest-
hood may be inferred from the elaborateness of the aboriginal
sacerdotal and ceremonial organization as set forth in a con-
temporary account. The only direct statement of this cost de-
clares: "Priests of all kinds were well paid for their services, and
lived comfortably." Such an assertion, however, when taken to-
gether with the description of the intricate rites and formulae
that had to be learned by every candidate, makes it evident that
the priests had of necessity to be freed from the routine duties of
making a living in order to discharge their functions. As a matter
of fact, these priests seem to have been specialists of a kind
unique in nonliterate society. The subjects taught in "teachers'
schools" were history, heraldry, geography, navigation, astron-
omy, astrology, mythology, time, numbers, seasons, genealogies,
and the study of enigmas and similes, while in addition there
existed what we would term vocational schools. A further eco-
nomic note is here of interest: "The students of both classes of
schools paid their teachers with the best of food, with birds'
feathers, images of wood and stone, rolls of tapa, choice mats,
and every kind of wearing apparel of the time." Studying for the
priesthood meant learning many kinds of formulae, but that this
long preparation was necessary is apparent from the description
of such a ceremony as that of "uncovering the gods" on important
state occasions or in times of great distress. Here are to be noted
the elaborate decoration of the priests, their withdrawal even
from their customary activities, the great quantities of food and
other commodities given as gifts to the gods, and the taboos
imposed on the common folk, such as the threat of death if one
of them unwittingly strayed on the scene. All these not only
clearly demonstrate the economic role of the priesthood as con-
sumers of subsistence goods produced by the community as a
whole, but also show how this class, in the performance of sacred
duties, was maintained in a fashion that must have necessitated
the appropriation of a considerable portion of the wealth of the
community. 10

The pre-contact culture of Palau offers another example from
the Pacific area of the economic worth of those who serve the

9 Hiroa (1934), 112-20, 138-40. 10 T, Henry, 152-4, 159 ff.

THE SERVICE OF THE SUPERNATURAL 451

supernatural powers. These powers were all conceived as an-
cestral spirits. One category, the forebears of a given clan, were
proffered small offerings by the individual and larger ones by
the clan head. The second category was made up of the deities,
properly speaking. Each clan worshipped a god and goddess
carrying titles "that were the supernatural counterparts of the
titles of the man and woman who were the leaders of the clan."
These leaders, as priest-chiefs, conducted the rites deemed neces-
sary when the ordinary spirits of the dead were not believed to
be powerful enough to function in a given situation. But just as
some clans were wealthier and more powerful than others, so
the gods of these clans were believed to be more powerful than
those of lesser groupings and were accorded the rank of village
or district deities. Their shrines were larger and these gods had
intermediaries, termed korong, who, unlike the clan priest-chief,
were specialists.

These korong were "called" to serve when they were first
possessed by a spirit, their behavior being such as to give them
recognition as "the selected vehicle of a god on the basis of per-
formance." But the position of such a person could not be in-
herited, and he himself held it only so long as he gave value for
services rendered that is, as long as his performance indicated
that he had not been "abandoned" by his deity. His position was
important, sometimes as important as that of a, principal district
chief. Since his services were paid for, and offerings made to
his god were kept by him, he became wealthy. He was thus both
politically powerful and a man of means, "two attributes" that
"had to go together" in Palau.

He lived usually in an ordinary house, but in some cases
distinctive high dwellings were built for him. Some of the cere-
monies decreed by the korong took the form of feasts, which on
occasion were lavish. Significantly, these latter could be given
only by the wealthiest families and afforded such a group "an
opportunity to increase its prestige and to further involve itself
in the ramifications of wealth manipulation." Thus the Jcorong,
himself becoming a power in the community, was instrumental
in perpetuating the position of those who already held power.
And "because it often happened that a korong was by birth a
low class individual, there can be no doubt that the chiefs had
considerable discretion in according a man the recognition of

452 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

being the medium of an important god. The assumption of the
role of a korong was therefore not as wholly fortuitous as it would
appear to be on the surface/' n

ADDITIONAL materials to document the economic rewards of
priests, shamans, diviners, workers of magic, and others in this
general category are to be found in the literature bearing on the
ways of life of many other tribes. Among the Yoruba of West
Africa, appeal is made to the diviner on every conceivable occa-
sion by anyone who has to make a decision, or who must ap-
proach the gods with a request for help. The process of divining
as carried on by these babalawo, as they are called, employs two
methods. Each method involves the permutations of eight or
sixteen seeds, which, by the way they fall either when thrown or
appear when juggled in the hand, give a result that indicates a
series of "verses" appropriate to the combination wherein the
answer to a specific question asked by the inquiring client is to
be revealed. The number of verses that must be mastered reaches
several thousand, and the calling of diviner is thus a profession
in every sense of the term. The system itself is termed Ifa, after
the spirit that guides those who manipulate the mechanisms of
divination. The "verse," with its parable, indicates not only the
solution of a difficulty, but the god who will give aid, the sacrifice
to be given this deity, and the remuneration of the diviner.

In some cases the petitioner is directed to become a worshipper
of a given god, or to "give" his child to a deity. The "verse" ap-
propriate to this situation clearly demonstrates how a person
thus chosen must devote himself exclusively to his new calling,
thus depending upon it for his support. In the following transla-
tion, Ifa is the spirit that would actuate the diviner who might
recite the "verse," eda are the palm-kernels he uses, and Alumo
another name for Ifa, whose question and its answer point the
response to the query of a client now before his diviner to ask,
let us say, for supernatural aid that will assure a cure to his sick
child.

11 Baraett, Ch. VII, esp. 205-07.

THE SERVICE OF THE SUPERNATURAL 453

The water of the forest is like dye,

The water of the grassland is like oil from palm-kernels,

The palm-kernels imbedded in the path are polished like

those of Ifa,
But they do not drink the blood of sacrifices like Ifa.

They divined for Alumo when he was going to buy eda as a
slave. They said he must serva his eda, his slave. . . .Ifa says
this boy is a babalawo. This boy was serving Ifa when he
came from the sky. The rising of setting sun must not see
him in the farm, and his feet must not brush the dew from
the farm road. And Ifa says that we are about to buy some-
thing. The person in question should not resist the thing he
is about to buy; if his money is not sufficient, he must add to
what he has. This thing he wants to buy will benefit him.
This is the day when a person must pay for his Ifa palm-
kernels.

Then I cannot go to the farm, Alumo;

Won't you come and see what my eda are doing for me?

Then I cannot go to the river, Alumo;

Won't you come and see what my eda are doing for me?

Then I cannot go to the market, Alumo;

Won't you come and see what my eda are doing for me?

Then I cannot go to a distance, Alumo;

Won't you come and see what my eda are doing for me?

Ifa says that it is the destiny of this person to do no other
work than divining; he must do no farming except to garden
a plot inside the town. This person must return to that which
he has abandoned and become a diviner, or at least learn
to recite the verses of Ifa. He is to bring a female goat and
20,000 cowries, no less, as an offering; when he has done
this, he is also to go and sacrifice a female goat to Ifa.

Despite the symbolism of the ritual language, it is clear that our
client, or his son, is to renounce ordinary labor and neither farm
nor sell in the market nor transport goods like others, but only
to serve his god and derive his livelihood from the payments of
those who come to him seeking the advice his supernatural
powers permit him to give them. And in this case a goat is offered
Ifa, the deity that sanctions divination, while the fee of the diviner

454 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

is another goat and cowries to a sum calculated in 1938 at five
shillings. 12

In South Africa, the absence of a "sacerdotal caste," as Junod
terms it, is marked. Here the fact that much of the religious life
centers on the ancestral cult is responsible for the absence of the
guild of priests that, for example, exists in West Africa or among
the Baganda of East Africa. Among the Bemba of Northern
Rhodesia "the fundamental . . . beliefs in the powers of the
ancestors . . ." are ". . . one of the most important sanctions
of the chiefs authority, and hence were unfailingly performed
at the latter 's court." This, in turn, is associated with the tradi-
tion that the position of the chief is to be maintained by the aid
of labor performed for him by the men and women over whom
he rules, and to whom he must give food, as he must to others
who come to him. That is, "the giving of food ... is an abso-
lutely essential attribute of chieftainship . . . and the successful
organization of supplies at the capital seems to be associated in
the Bemba mind with the security and well-being of the whole
tribe itself." The fact that the "sacred kitchen" is the first house
to be built with special rites at the founding of a chiefs new
village underscores the economic importance of this complex
of ancestral cult, chieftainship and control of food, taken as a
whole. 13

Junod states that among the Thonga "the right of officiating
in religious ceremonies is strictly confined to the eldest brother.
. . ." 14 A similar observation has been made for the entire region
of Bantu South Africa: "The person considered most competent
to offer up a sacrifice is the senior living representative of the
ancestors." Of particular interest for us here is the added state-
ment that "the Chief in the same way is the priest of his people.
Only he can approach his ancestors directly on behalf of the
tribe: he is the natural link between them and the powerful
spirits of dead Chiefs governing their welfare. . . ." 15 In the
preceding chapter it has been indicated how, in this same area,
chiefs were rewarded by means of their control over the taxing
power and through their right to levy upon the labor as well as
the goods of their subjects. But in paying for the services of their

12 Bascom (communicated). u Junod, II, 411.

"Richards (1939), 351, 148-9. 15 Eiselen and Schapera, 258-9.

THE SERVICE OF THE SUPERNATURAL 455

secular officials, the South African tribesmen appear to have a
more advantageous economic arrangement than is the case in
many other nonliterate societies, since for the same amount they
benefit from those services necessary to care for the demands
of the supernatural powers that make for good or evil in their
lives.

Though explicit statements regarding the economics of super-
natural control are as rare for this area as elsewhere, it is safe
to conclude that the only form of supernatural service which
carries with it an economic return, in the restricted sense of the
term, is the practice of magic and medicine. These specialists
are called in when specific needs call for their aid, and they are
paid a retainer as well as the fee agreed upon, once their work
is done. The Tswana worker of magic, like the West African
diviner, serves a long apprenticeship, not alone under his father,
from whom he inherits the art, but also "under several different
magicians, to each of whom a fee of one or more cattle must be
paid." Furthermore, he must have permission of the chief of his
district before he may practice; if a stranger, he may be ordered
to leave the tribal territory and forbidden to collect such fees as
are owing him. In earlier days the retainer was the skin of a goat
or a sheep or a little corn; today it is one or two shillings in cash.
The charge varies with the nature of the work. For curing minor
illnesses the practitioner receives a sheep or a goat, while for
"more serious cases, or for such major tasks as charming cattle,
fields or huts, it is usually an ox." The fee is waived if the end
agreed upon is not achieved, but where the work is conscien-
tiously performed and the desired result is obtained, an unpaid
fee can be recovered in court. In this particular tribe, however,
once a substantial fee, such as an ox, has been paid a practitioner,
his continued services are available to the client and his family
without further charge from that time onward. 16

The most detailed study of African magic on which we can
draw deals with the Azande, a tribe living on the Nile-Congo
divide, where magic is property and, as such, can be bought and
sold like any other alienable good. How these magic forces are
manipulated is taught a beginner during a long initiation, wherein
the essential element is "the slow transference of knowledge

"'Schapera ( 1938), 255-6.

456 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

about plants from teacher to pupil in exchange for a long string
of fees." It is imperative that each step be adequately compen-
sated, since a medicine for which too little is given leaves its
seller dissatisfied, thus weakening its effectiveness and rendering
it valueless to the buyer. The pupil, normally a young man,
frequently does not have the means to satisfy the high cost of
tuition, and in consequence is permitted to make his payments
in installments. But in any event he is expected to give his teacher
the first fees he receives after he begins to practice and an oc-
casional present from time to time afterwards.

Naturally such expensive training must carry an assurance of
future return. This return is of a dual character, partly material,
partly psychological. While many men attempt to become pro-
fessional practitioners, and a fair proportion succeed in estab-
lishing themselves as such, the ablest among them also come to
hold an important place in society. The interplay of their interests
with those of the governing group is of some significance. The
worker of magic has what would be termed commoner as against
aristocratic status, and his activities comprise and evoke "entirely
a commoner practice and mainly a commoner interest." Yet
princes respect these men and do not disdain to give them the
patronage that assures to themselves the services of efficient
informants about possible unrest in the kingdom and protection
against possible female witches in their own harems.

Owing to demands on their time, workers of magic are with-
drawn from the ordinary round of economic activities here, as in
other societies where these and other specialists in the super-
natural function. For example:

A first-class witch-doctor is constantly being summoned to
court or to the homes of affluent commoners or to those of
friends and relatives, and in consequence he is not able to
give the same attention to economic pursuits as laymen can
give to them. He makes up for his loss by his earnings as
leech and diviner, which are either paid to him in food and
tools or in metal wealth which can be exchanged for the one
or converted into the other.

The value of these returns is not told us, but that they adequately
support the specialists in magic is self-evident. To this extent
they represent a further instance of that particular aspect of the

THE SERVICE OF THE SUPERNATURAL 457

utilization of the economic surplus with which we are here con-
cerned. 17

TURNING to the New World, it may be recalled how, among the
Yokuts-Mono folk of California, the specialized activities of
shamans and chiefs were co-ordinated so as to strengthen the
social and economic position of each. Yet, aside from the study
of this single instance, as one discussion of shamanism has put
it, "we know almost nothing about the role of the shaman in the
social systems of the greater number of tribes in the Plateau,
Great Basin, and California." Since the sociological aspects of
shamanism have thus been ignored, or have "emerged only as a
by-product of the investigator's preoccupation with religion," 18
it is not strange that our knowledge of the economic aspects of
shamanism or other forms of religious leadership are even more
fragmentary. One or two statements which imply that a return
was made to the shamans in various western tribes may, however,
be cited. Narratives obtained from surviving Nomlaki indicate
that the shaman was a person of moment, whose control of the
supernatural rendered him returns of economic as well as of
psychological value. He was "a man of power and wealth," whose
prestige was "compounded out of fear of his power, respect for
his ability, and recognition of his wealth." 19 According to Spier:
"it is clear that the shaman is the most important individual in
Klamath society, taking precedence over rich men, the chiefs.
Shamans' houses are the largest in the village, and they have at
least as much property as the wealthy layman." Or among the
Tsimshian: "In other cases (than, e.g., selling meat and other
provisions) people became wealthy by their shamanistic art, for
which they are well paid." This statement is documented by
reference to a passage from one of the myths, that, "the shaman
prince did what his supernatural power told him. . . . Then she
(the chiefs daughter) came back to life . . . and the chief, the
father of the girl, paid him much property slaves, costly cop-
pers, canoes, and all kinds of goods." Whether the humbler mem-

17 Evans-Pritchard ( 1937), 213- 18 Park, 102-03.

15, 251-3. 19 Coldschmidt, 357-8.

458 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

bers of this society rewarded the successful practitioner according
to their means is not stated, but it may be supposed on the basis
of our general knowledge of the area that these men did not do
their work for nothing. 20

Our scant knowledge of the economic position of the religious
leader in North America may be a reflection of the fact that, over
the continent, specialization of any kind is relatively weak. It is
not possible, therefore, in most instances even obliquely to infer
the nature of the economic return to practitioners of this sort.
Thus, among the Cherokee:

To have an adequate idea of the social status of the medicine
man we should bear in mind that in his person we find
cumulated such professions and pursuits which in our society
would correspond to those of the clergy, the educators, the
philosophers and the historians, the members of the medical
profession in its widest sense . . . and finally, to a certain
degree, even to those of the politicians and of the press. 21

The Iroquois had "Keepers of the Faith," men and women who
constituted a "select class appointed by the several tribes to take
the charge of their religious festivals and the general supervision
of their worship." Yet it is specifically stated that they had no
special privileges. They were "common warriors and common
women," and their office was "without reward." 22

Elsewhere in North America we find indications that religious
specialists received some return for their services, even though
they may not have been entirely supported by their communities.
Despite the marginal nature of Eskimo economic life, we are
specifically informed that "the angakut (shaman), who must be
paid at once for curing a sick person, receives pretty large fees
for services of this kind." Among the Natchez, offerings of first
fruits and other products were brought to the temples of the
gods and taken by the priests to the political leader, who redis-
tributed them as he saw fit. Here, however, the matter was com-
plicated by a situation analogous to that in Polynesia, for the
Natchez political leader was also the head of the religious estab-

20 Spier ( 1930), 107; Boas ( 1916), 21 Mooney and Olbrcchts, 91.
436, 328. 22 Morgan ( 1851 ), 177, 179.

THE SERVICE OF THE SUPERNATURAL 459

lishment, and himself sacred; hence any return to him as ruler
may well have been at the same time an offering to him in his
capacity as supreme priest. 23

A word may be said regarding the support of the large reli-
gious establishments that functioned in Mexico and Peru. Both
these areas had established sacerdotal orders, numbering many
initiates who gave their entire time to their religious duties, and
who received training in schools where their support was assured
during the period of their studies. In each region the wealth thus
withdrawn from the general store was supplemented by the ap-
propriation of human resources to the temples and the rituals
conducted therein support given not only in the form of the
labor of those who worked the priestly gardens and saw to the
upkeep of the sacred places, but also in the form of human sacri-
fices. The offerings came both from the population at large and
from the ranks of captives, who themselves might otherwise have
been productively employed as servants, serfs, or slaves. These
religious establishments, indeed, approximate the religious struc-
tures of literate cultures in their richness, the involved character
of their organization, and the implication of extreme speciali-
zation in the esoteric nature of their rituals, recalling forms that
otherwise are known only in societies having a far greater degree
of complexity than marks nonliterate communities.

THUS despite all the accounting difficulties, or the confusion that
arises from the fact that the role of priests and rulers in many
cultures of nonliterate peoples performed by the same individ-
uals, it can be concluded that in such societies those in accord
with the supernatural are rewarded for their services out of the
economic surplus produced by the people they serve, in the same
way as are those who direct everyday affairs. Both rulers and
priests, moreover, in discharging the services that constitute their
responsibility, must have assistance adequate to the dictates of
their social position and the requirements of their duties. Hence

23 Boas ( 1888), 594; Swanton (1911), 166.

460 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

in those societies where the existence of a large population cre-
ates heavy administrative difficulties, and a sophisticated world-
view makes for a crowded ceremonial round, the numbers of
persons involved in this withdrawal of potential man-power from
the production of subsistence commodities is considerable and
their support a major charge against the total income of the
group.

CHAPTER XXI

WEALTH, DISPLAY,
AND STATUS

WE HAVE seen that in nonliterate societies the goods produced
over the demands of necessity are not equally distributed, but are
channelled into the hands of specialists who constitute a small
proportion of the total population. It remains to inquire what
use is made of this surplus by those individuals whose economic
role is to collect, consume, and redistribute the goods that have
come to them. This means that we must consider that aspect of
the consumption of goods which, in all societies, constitutes the
core of prestige economics. We therefore return to an analysis
of the drives underlying the economic functions of those groups
in nonliterate societies, which, following Veblen, have been
designated as leisure-class groups. It is an engrossing and impor-
tant problem. For what Veblen terms "differentiation in con-
sumption" through the "specialized consumption of goods as an
evidence of pecuniary strength" is achieved in many societies by
experts whose specialization permits them to develop techniques
for utilizing goods and services that make of this phase of their
socio-economic role an end in itself.

This was what Veblen had in mind when he used the phrase
"conspicuous waste," a phrase which, because of the "undertone
of deprecation" accompanying its use, he himself recognized as
not entirely satisfactory. If, however, Veblen's own alterna-
tive, "conspicuous consumption," is substituted for "conspicuous
waste," the implications for an understanding of the economic
and social psychological problems of the unequal disposition of
the economic surplus and the resulting social leisure this affords

461

462 ECONOMIC ANTHROPOLOGY

are of the first importance. As a matter of fact, it seems likely that
Veblen, in coining this phrase and in indicating its dynamic and
institutional implications, hit upon one of those principles which,
in generalized form, are applicable to human societies every-
where. For in the vast majority of cultures the position of those in
power is established, continued, and constantly strengthened by
the prestige that derives from elaborate display and consumption
of economically valuable goods.

An example of how this mechanism of prestige competition
operates is found in the socioeconomic system of Ponape, one of
the Caroline Islands, in Micronesia. Here Bascom distinguishes
( 1 ) a subsistence economy, which cares for the immediate needs
of the producing household; (2) a commercial economy, which
since contact with the outer world produces goods sold for ex-
port; and (3) a prestige system, concerned with the goods
"through which social approval and social status are gained."

This prestige economy, associated with feasting, is based on
yams, pit breadfruit, kava ( a native drink ) , and pigs, yams being
the most important prestige commodity. Of the Ponapean, we
learn

... his motivations and attitudes towards work cannot be
explained simply in terms of a desire to earn enough money
to purchase necessary imports and to produce enough food
to keep himself and his family from hunger. Not infre-
quently families go hungry at home when they have large
yams in their farms ready for harvest.

When a feast is given, kava and pigs are offered, besides pit
breadfruit and yams. Prestige goes to the man offering the oldest
breadfruit, but this is secondary to that accorded the one whose
yam is largest. That this is a stimulus in yam production is seen
in the classification of yams, the largest being that which requires
from four to twelve men to carry, the other two sizes being those
requiring two men to transport, and those which one man can
handle. Shape and variety count as well as size and weight, but
the latter, which may be up to 220 pounds, is the predominant
consideration.

"Success in prestige competition," we are told, "is regarded
as evidence not only of a man's ability, industry and generosity,
but also of his love a