THE NEGATIVE CULT AND ITS FUNCTIONS: ASCETIC RITES

We do not have the intention of attempting a complete description of the primitive cult in what is to follow. Being preoccupied especially with reaching that which is most elementary and most fundamental in the religious life, we shall not attempt to reconstruct in detail the frequently confused multiplicity of all the ritual forms. But out of the midst of this extreme diversity of practices we should like to touch upon the most characteristic attitudes which the primitive observes in the celebration of his cult, to classify the most general forms of his rites, and to determine their origins and significance, in order that we may control and, if there is occasion, make more definite the results to which the analysis of the beliefs has led us.⁹⁹⁹

We do not intend to give a complete description of primitive worship in what follows. We are especially concerned with finding what is most elementary and fundamental in religious life. So we will not attempt to reconstruct in detail the often confusing variety of ritual forms. But amid this great diversity of practices, we want to examine the most characteristic attitudes of primitive people as they worship. We also want to classify the most general forms of their rites and determine their origins and significance. Our aim is to test the conclusions reached through our analysis of beliefs and, if necessary, make them more precise.⁹⁹⁹

Every cult presents a double aspect, one negative, the other positive. In reality, of course, the two sorts of rites which we denominate thus are closely associated; we shall see that they suppose one another. But still, they are different and, if it is only to understand their connection, it is necessary to distinguish them.

Every form of worship has two aspects, one negative and the other positive. In reality, of course, the two kinds of rites are closely connected. We shall see that each depends on the other. But they are still different, and we need to distinguish them, even if only to understand their connection.

By definition, sacred beings are separated beings. That which characterizes them is that there is a break of continuity between them and the profane beings. Normally, the first are outside the others. A whole group of rites has the object of realizing this state of separation which is essential. Since their function is to prevent undue mixings and to keep one of these two domains from encroaching upon the other, they are only able to impose abstentions or negative acts. Therefore, we propose to give the name negative cult to the system formed by these special rites. They do not prescribe certain acts to the faithful, but confine themselves to forbidding certain ways of acting; so they all take the form of interdictions, or as is commonly said by ethnographers, of taboos. This latter word is the one used in the Polynesian languages to designate the institution in virtue of which certain things are withdrawn from common use¹⁰⁰⁰; it is also an adjective expressing the distinctive characteristic of these kinds of things. We have already had occasion to show how hard it is to translate a strictly local and dialectical expression like this into a generic term. There is no religion where there are no interdictions and where they do not play a considerable part; so it is regrettable that the consecrated terminology should seem to make so universal an institution into a peculiarity of Polynesia.¹⁰⁰¹ The expression interdicts or interdictions seems to us to be much more preferable. However, the word taboo, like the word totem, is so customary that it would show an excess of purism to prohibit it systematically; also, the inconveniences it may have are attenuated when its real meaning and importance have once been definitely stated.

By definition, sacred beings are set apart. What distinguishes them is a break in continuity between them and profane beings. Normally, sacred beings exist outside the realm of profane beings. A whole group of rites aims to bring about this essential separation. Their function is to prevent improper mixing and keep either realm from encroaching on the other. They can therefore only require people to abstain or perform negative acts. We propose calling the system formed by these special rites the negative cult. These rites do not prescribe certain acts for the faithful. They simply forbid certain ways of acting. They all take the form of prohibitions, or, as ethnographers commonly call them, taboos. In Polynesian languages, the word taboo refers to the institution by which certain things are withdrawn from common use¹⁰⁰⁰. It is also an adjective describing the distinctive character of such things. We have already shown how difficult it is to turn a strictly local and dialectal expression into a general term. Every religion has prohibitions, and they play a considerable part in every religion. It is therefore regrettable that the established terminology seems to make such a universal institution a peculiarity of Polynesia.¹⁰⁰¹ We believe the terms interdicts or interdictions are much preferable. However, the word taboo, like the word totem, is so customary that rejecting it in every case would be excessively purist. Any drawbacks the word may have are also reduced once its real meaning and importance have been clearly established.

But there are interdictions of different sorts which it is important to distinguish; for we shall not have to treat all kinds of interdictions in this chapter.

But it is important to distinguish between different kinds of prohibitions, because we will not discuss all of them in this chapter.

First of all, beside those coming from religion, there are others which are due to magic. The two have this in common, that they declare certain things incompatible, and prescribe the separation of the things whose incompatibility is thus proclaimed. But there are also very grave differences between them. In the first place, the sanctions are not the same in the two cases. Of course the violation of the religious interdicts is frequently believed, as we shall presently see, to bring about material disorders mechanically, from which the guilty man will suffer, and which are regarded as a judgment on his act. But even if these really come about this spontaneous and automatic judgment is not the only one; it is always completed by another one, supposing human intervention. A real punishment is added to this, if it does not anticipate it, and this one is deliberately inflicted by men; or at least there is a blame and public reprobation. Even when the sacrilege has been punished, as it were, by the sickness or natural death of its author, it is also defamed; it offends opinion, which reacts against it; it puts the man who did it in fault. On the contrary, the magic interdiction is judged only by the material consequences which the forbidden act is believed to produce, with a sort of physical necessity. In disobeying, a man runs risks similar to those to which an invalid exposes himself in not following the advice of his physician; but in this case disobedience is not a fault; it creates no indignation. There is no sin in magic. Moreover, this difference in sanction is due to a profound difference in the nature of the interdictions. The religious interdiction necessarily implies the notion of sacredness; it comes from the respect inspired by the sacred object, and its purpose is to keep this respect from failing. On the other hand, the interdictions of magic suppose only a wholly lay notion of property. The things which the magician recommends to be kept separate are those which, by reason of their characteristic properties, cannot be brought together and confused without danger. Even if he happens to ask his clients to keep at a distance from certain sacred things, it is not through respect for them and fear that they may be profaned, for, as we know, magic lives on profanations;¹⁰⁰² it is merely for reasons of temporal utility. In a word, religious interdictions are categorical imperatives; others are useful maxims, the first form of hygienic and medical interdictions. We cannot study two orders of facts as different as these simultaneously, or even under the same name, without confusion. We are only concerned with the religious interdictions here.¹⁰⁰³

First, besides religious prohibitions, there are prohibitions that come from magic. Both declare certain things incompatible and require that they be kept separate. But there are also very serious differences between them. First, the consequences of breaking them are not the same. As we shall soon see, people often believe that breaking a religious prohibition automatically causes harm to the offender. They regard this harm as a judgment on the act. But even if the harm does occur, this automatic judgment is not the only one. It is always accompanied by another judgment involving human intervention. People deliberately inflict a real punishment, either after the harm occurs or before it. At the very least, they express blame and public disapproval. Even when the person who commits sacrilege has been punished, as it were, by illness or natural death, the act is also condemned. It offends public opinion, which reacts against it and judges the person who committed it to be at fault. By contrast, a violation of a magical prohibition is judged only by the material consequences the forbidden act is believed to produce. These consequences are thought to follow with a kind of physical necessity. Someone who disobeys runs risks like those a sick person runs by ignoring a doctor's advice. But in this case, disobedience is not a fault and causes no indignation. There is no sin in magic. Moreover, this difference in consequences reflects a profound difference in the nature of the prohibitions. A religious prohibition necessarily involves the idea of sacredness. It comes from the respect inspired by a sacred object, and its purpose is to prevent that respect from weakening. Magical prohibitions, on the other hand, assume only an entirely secular idea of properties. The things a magician recommends keeping separate have properties that make it dangerous to bring them together and mix them. Even if the magician asks clients to stay away from certain sacred things, this is not out of respect for those things or fear that they may be profaned. As we know, magic lives on profanations.¹⁰⁰² The reasons are purely practical. In short, religious prohibitions are categorical imperatives. Magical prohibitions are useful rules of thumb, the earliest form of health and medical advice. We cannot study two kinds of facts so different from each other at the same time, or even under the same name, without causing confusion. Here we are concerned only with religious prohibitions.¹⁰⁰³

But a new distinction is necessary between these latter.

But we need to make another distinction among the latter.

There are religious interdictions whose object is to separate two sacred things of different species from each other. For example, it will be remembered that among the Wakelbura the scaffold upon which the corpse is exposed must be made exclusively of materials belonging to the phratry of the dead man; this is as much as to say that all contact between the corpse, which is sacred, and the things of the other phratry, which are also sacred, but differently, is forbidden. Elsewhere, the arms which one uses to hunt an animal with cannot be made out of a kind of wood that is classed in the same social group as the animal itself.¹⁰⁰⁴ But the most important of these interdictions are the ones which we shall study in the next chapter; they are intended to prevent all communication between the purely sacred and the impurely sacred, between the sacredly auspicious and the sacredly inauspicious. All these interdictions have one common characteristic; they come, not from the fact that some things are sacred while others are not, but from the fact that there are inequalities and incompatibilities between sacred things. So they do not touch what is essential in the idea of sacredness. The observance of these prohibitions can give place only to isolated rites which are particular and almost exceptional; but it could not make a real cult, for before all, a cult is made by regular relations between the profane and the sacred as such.

Some religious prohibitions are meant to keep different kinds of sacred things apart. For example, recall that among the Wakelbura, a corpse is placed on a scaffold. The scaffold must be made entirely of materials belonging to the dead man’s phratry. This means that all contact is forbidden between the sacred corpse and things belonging to the other phratry. Those things are also sacred, but in a different way. Elsewhere, weapons used to hunt an animal cannot be made from wood classified in the same social group as the animal.¹⁰⁰⁴ But the most important prohibitions are those we will study in the next chapter. They are meant to prevent all contact between the purely sacred and the impurely sacred. They also prevent contact between the sacredly auspicious and the sacredly inauspicious. All these prohibitions have one feature in common. They arise not because some things are sacred and others are not, but because sacred things differ in status and are incompatible. So these prohibitions do not concern what is essential to the idea of sacredness. Observing them can produce only isolated rites that are particular and almost exceptional. It cannot create a true cult, because a cult consists above all of regular relations between the profane and the sacred as such.

But there is another system of religious interdictions which is much more extended and important; this is the one which separates, not different species of sacred things, but all that is sacred from all that is profane. So it is derived immediately from the notion of sacredness itself, and it limits itself to expressing and realizing this. Thus it furnishes the material for a veritable cult, and even of a cult which is at the basis of all the others; for the attitude which it prescribes is one from which the worshipper must never depart in all his relations with the sacred. It is what we call the negative cult. We may say that its interdicts are the religious interdicts par excellence.¹⁰⁰⁵ It is only these that we shall discuss in the following pages.

But there is another system of religious prohibitions that is much broader and more important. It separates everything sacred from everything profane, rather than separating different kinds of sacred things. So it comes directly from the very idea of sacredness and does no more than express and put that idea into practice. In this way, it provides the substance of a true form of worship, one that underlies all others. For it prescribes an attitude that the worshipper must always maintain in every encounter with the sacred. We call this the negative cult. We may say that its prohibitions are the religious prohibitions par excellence.¹⁰⁰⁵ Only these will be discussed in the following pages.

But they take multiple forms. Here are the principal ones which we observe in Australia.

But they take many forms. Here are the main forms found in Australia.

Before all are the interdictions of contact; these are the original taboos, of which the others are scarcely more than particular varieties. They rest upon the principle that the profane should never touch the sacred. We have seen already that the uninitiated may not touch the churinga or the bull-roarers under any circumstances. If adults are allowed the free use of them, it is because initiation has conferred a sacred character upon them. Blood, and especially that which flows during the initiation, has a religious virtue;¹⁰⁰⁶ it is under the same interdict.¹⁰⁰⁷ It is the same with the hair.¹⁰⁰⁸ A dead man is sacred because the soul which animated the body stays with the corpse; for this reason it is sometimes forbidden to carry the bones of a dead man about unless they are wrapped up in a piece of bark.¹⁰⁰⁹ Even the place where the death took place should be avoided, for they believe that the soul of the dead man continues to haunt the spot. That is why they break camp and move some distance away;¹⁰¹⁰ in certain cases they destroy it along with everything it contains,¹⁰¹¹ and a certain time must elapse before they can come back to the same place.¹⁰¹² Thus it comes about that a dying man creates an empty space about him; they abandon him after they have installed him as comfortably as possible.¹⁰¹³

First come the prohibitions against contact. These are the original taboos, and the others are scarcely more than particular forms of them. They rest on the principle that the profane must never touch the sacred. We have already seen that uninitiated people may never touch the churinga or the bull-roarers. Adults may use these objects freely because initiation has given them a sacred character. Blood has religious power, especially blood shed during initiation.¹⁰⁰⁶ The same prohibition applies to it.¹⁰⁰⁷ The same is true of hair.¹⁰⁰⁸ A dead man is sacred because the soul that animated his body stays with the corpse. For this reason, people are sometimes forbidden to carry a dead man’s bones unless they are wrapped in bark.¹⁰⁰⁹ Even the place where he died should be avoided. This is because people believe that the dead man’s soul continues to haunt the spot. That is why they break camp and move some distance away.¹⁰¹⁰ In certain cases, they destroy the camp and everything in it.¹⁰¹¹ Some time must pass before they can return to the same place.¹⁰¹² A dying man is thus left in an empty space. After making him as comfortable as possible, they leave him.¹⁰¹³

An exceptionally intimate contact is the one resulting from the absorption of food. Hence comes the interdiction against eating the sacred animals or vegetables, and especially those serving as totems.¹⁰¹⁴ Such an act appears so very sacrilegious that the prohibition covers even adults, or at least, the majority of them; only the old men attain a sufficient religious dignity to escape this interdict sometimes. This prohibition has sometimes been explained by the mythical kinship uniting the man to the animals whose name he bears; they are protected by the sentiment of sympathy which they inspire by their position as kin.¹⁰¹⁵ But the fact that the consumption of the forbidden flesh is believed to cause sickness or death automatically shows that this interdiction does not have its origin in the simple revolt of the feeling of domestic relationship. Forces of another sort are in action which are analogous to those in all religions and which are believed to react against sacrileges.

Eating creates an exceptionally intimate contact. This is why eating sacred animals or plants is forbidden, especially those that serve as totems.¹⁰¹⁴ The act seems so sacrilegious that the ban applies even to adults, or at least most of them. Only old men attain enough religious dignity to be exempt from the ban at times. This prohibition has sometimes been explained by the mythical kinship between a man and the animals whose name he bears. According to this explanation, the animals are protected by the sympathy they inspire as kin.¹⁰¹⁵ But eating the forbidden flesh is believed to cause sickness or death automatically. This shows that the prohibition does not simply arise from an offended sense of family ties. Other kinds of forces are at work. They are like those found in all religions, which are believed to react against sacrilege.

Moreover, if certain foods are forbidden to the profane because they are sacred, certain others, on the contrary, are forbidden to persons of a sacred character, because they are profane. Thus it frequently happens that certain animals are specially designated as the food of women; for this reason, they believe that they partake of a feminine nature and that they are consequently profane. On the other hand, the young initiate is submitted to a series of rites of particular severity; to give him the virtues which will enable him to enter into the world of sacred things, from which he had up till then been excluded, they centre an exceptionally powerful group of religious forces upon him. Thus he enters into a state of sanctity which keeps all that is profane at a distance. Then he is not allowed to eat the game which is regarded as the special food of women.¹⁰¹⁶

Moreover, some foods are forbidden to profane people because they are sacred. Conversely, other foods are forbidden to sacred people because they are profane. For example, certain animals are often designated especially as food for women. For this reason, people believe that these animals share a feminine nature and are therefore profane. The young initiate, on the other hand, undergoes a series of especially severe rites. These rites concentrate an exceptionally powerful group of religious forces on him. Their purpose is to give him the qualities that will allow him to enter the world of sacred things. Until then, he had been excluded from that world. He thus enters a state of sanctity that keeps all profane things at a distance. He is then forbidden to eat the game regarded as the special food of women.¹⁰¹⁶

But contact may be established by other means than the touch. One comes into relations with a thing by merely regarding it: a look is a means of contact. This is why the sight of sacred things is forbidden to the profane in certain cases. A woman should never see the instruments of the cult; the most that is permitted her is to catch a glimpse of them from afar.¹⁰¹⁷ It is the same with the totemic paintings executed on the bodies of the officiants in the exceptionally important ceremonies.¹⁰¹⁸ The exceptional solemnity of the rites of initiation prevents the women in certain tribes from seeing the place where they were celebrated¹⁰¹⁹ or even the neophyte himself.¹⁰²⁰ The sacred character which is imminent in the ceremony as a whole is naturally found in the persons of those who directed it or took some part in it; the result of this is that the novice may not raise his eyes to them, and this interdiction continues even after the rite is accomplished.¹⁰²¹ A dead man is also removed from view sometimes: his face is covered over in such a way that it cannot be seen.¹⁰²²

But contact can be established in ways other than touch. Simply looking at a thing brings a person into contact with it. This is why, in some cases, people outside the religious group are forbidden to see sacred things. A woman must never see the objects used in worship. At most, she is allowed to catch a glimpse of them from a distance.¹⁰¹⁷ The same is true of the totemic paintings on the bodies of those conducting exceptionally important ceremonies.¹⁰¹⁸ Because initiation rites are exceptionally solemn, women in some tribes cannot see the place where the rites were held¹⁰¹⁹ or even the person being initiated.¹⁰²⁰ The sacred character present in the ceremony as a whole naturally extends to those who directed or took part in it. As a result, the novice may not look up at them. This prohibition continues even after the rite is completed.¹⁰²¹ A dead man is also sometimes kept out of sight. His face is covered so that it cannot be seen.¹⁰²²

The word is another way of entering into relations with persons or things. The breath expired establishes a communication; this is a part of us which spreads outwards. Thus it is forbidden to the profane to address the sacred beings or simply to speak in their presence. Just as the neophyte must not regard either the operators or the assistants, so it is forbidden to him to converse with them except by signs; and this interdiction keeps the place to which it has been raised, by means of a special rite.¹⁰²³

Speech is another way of entering into relations with people or things. The breath we exhale establishes a connection. It is a part of us that spreads outward. Thus, the uninitiated are forbidden to address sacred beings or even to speak in their presence. Just as the initiate must not look at those conducting or assisting in the rite, he is forbidden to communicate with them except by signs. This prohibition remains at the level to which it has been raised by a special rite.¹⁰²³

In a general way, there are, among the Arunta, moments in the course of the great ceremonies when silence is obligatory.¹⁰²⁴ As soon as the churinga are exposed, every one keeps still, or if someone talks, he does so in a low voice or with his lips only.¹⁰²⁵

Generally, among the Arunta, silence is required at certain moments during the great ceremonies.¹⁰²⁴ As soon as the churinga are exposed, everyone remains silent. If someone speaks, they do so in a low voice or only move their lips.¹⁰²⁵

Besides the sacred things, there are words and sounds which have the same character; they should not pass the lips of the profane or enter their ears. There are ritual songs which women must not hear under pain of death.¹⁰²⁶ They may hear the noise of the bull-roarers, but only from a distance. Every proper name is considered an essential element of the person who bears it; being closely associated in the mind to the idea of this person, it participates in the sentiments which this latter inspires. So if the one is sacred, the other is. Therefore, it may not be pronounced in the course of the profane life. Among the Warramunga there is one totem which is particularly venerated, this is the snake called Wollunqua; its name is taboo.¹⁰²⁷ It is the same with Baiame, Daramulun and Bunjil; the esoteric form of their name must not be revealed to the uninitiate.¹⁰²⁸ During mourning, the name of the dead man must not be mentioned, at least by his parents, except when there is an absolute necessity, and even in this case it must be whispered.¹⁰²⁹ This interdiction is frequently perpetual for the widow and certain relatives.¹⁰³⁰ Among certain peoples, this even extends beyond the family; all the individuals whose name is the same as that of the dead man must change theirs temporarily.¹⁰³¹ But there is more than this: the relatives and intimate friends sometimes abstain from certain words in the usual language, undoubtedly because they were employed by the dead man; these gaps are filled in by means of periphrases or words taken from some foreign dialects.¹⁰³² In addition to their public and everyday names all men have another which is kept a secret: the women and children do not know it; it is never used in the ordinary life. This is because it has a religious character.¹⁰³³ There are even ceremonies during which it is necessary to speak a special language which must not be used for profane purposes. It is the beginning of a sacred language.¹⁰³⁴

Besides sacred things, there are words and sounds that are also sacred. Profane people must not speak or hear them. There are ritual songs that women must not hear, on pain of death.¹⁰²⁶ Women may hear the sound of bull-roarers, but only from a distance. Every proper name is considered an essential part of the person who bears it. The name is closely associated in the mind with that person, so it shares in the feelings the person inspires. If the person is sacred, then the name is sacred too. Therefore, the name must not be spoken in ordinary, profane life. Among the Warramunga, one totem is especially revered: the snake called Wollunqua. Its name is taboo.¹⁰²⁷ The same is true of Baiame, Daramulun and Bunjil. The esoteric form of each name must not be revealed to the uninitiated.¹⁰²⁸ During mourning, the dead man's name must not be mentioned, at least by his parents, unless absolutely necessary. Even then, it must be whispered.¹⁰²⁹ This ban often lasts forever for the widow and certain relatives.¹⁰³⁰ Among some peoples, the ban extends beyond the family. All those who share the dead man's name must temporarily change their own names.¹⁰³¹ But the restrictions go further. Relatives and close friends sometimes avoid certain words in everyday language, undoubtedly because the dead man used them. They fill these gaps with indirect expressions or words taken from foreign dialects.¹⁰³² Besides their public, everyday names, all men have another name that is kept secret. Women and children do not know this name, and it is never used in ordinary life. This is because the name has a religious character.¹⁰³³ There are even ceremonies that require people to speak a special language that must not be used for profane purposes. This is the beginning of a sacred language.¹⁰³⁴

Not only are the sacred beings separated from the profane, but also nothing which either directly or indirectly concerns the profane life should be confused with the religious life. Complete nudity is frequently demanded of the native as a prerequisite to being admitted to participation in the rites;¹⁰³⁵ he is required to strip himself of all his habitual ornaments, even those to which he is the most attached, and from which he separates himself the least willingly because of the protecting virtues he attributes to them.¹⁰³⁶ If he is obliged to decorate himself to play his part in the ritual, this decoration has to be made specially for the occasion; it is a ceremonial costume, a gala dress.¹⁰³⁷ As these ornaments are sacred, owing to the use made of them, he is forbidden to use them in profane affairs; when the ceremony is finished, they are buried or burnt;¹⁰³⁸ the men must even wash themselves in such a way as to carry away with them no trace of the decorations with which they were adorned.¹⁰³⁹

Sacred beings are not only separated from the profane. Nothing connected with profane life, directly or indirectly, should be confused with religious life. Native people are often required to be completely naked before they can take part in the rites.¹⁰³⁵ They must remove all their usual ornaments. This includes even the ornaments they value most and are least willing to remove because they believe the ornaments protect them.¹⁰³⁶ If they must decorate themselves to play their part in the ritual, the decorations must be made especially for the occasion. They form a ceremonial costume, a special dress for the event.¹⁰³⁷ These ornaments are sacred because of their use in the ritual. The people are therefore forbidden to use them in profane affairs. When the ceremony is over, the ornaments are buried or burned.¹⁰³⁸ The men must even wash themselves so thoroughly that no trace of their decorations remains.¹⁰³⁹

In general, all acts characteristic of the ordinary life are forbidden while those of the religious life are taking place. The act of eating is, of itself, profane; for it takes place every day, it satisfies essentially utilitarian and material needs and it is a part of our ordinary existence.¹⁰⁴⁰ This is why it is prohibited in religious times. When one totemic group has loaned its churinga to a foreign clan, it is an exceptionally solemn moment when they are brought back and put into the ertnatulunga; all those who take part in the ceremony must fast as long as it lasts, and it lasts a long time.¹⁰⁴¹ The same rule is observed during the rites,¹⁰⁴² of which we shall speak in the next chapter, as well as at certain moments of the initiation.¹⁰⁴³

In general, all activities of ordinary life are forbidden during religious activities. Eating is in itself profane. It happens every day, satisfies essentially practical and material needs, and is part of ordinary life.¹⁰⁴⁰ That is why eating is forbidden during religious times. A totemic group may lend its churinga to a foreign clan. Their return and placement in the ertnatulunga is an exceptionally solemn occasion. Everyone taking part in the ceremony must fast as long as it lasts, and it lasts a long time.¹⁰⁴¹ The same rule is observed during the rites,¹⁰⁴² which we will discuss in the next chapter, and at certain moments during initiation.¹⁰⁴³

For this same reason, all temporal occupations are suspended while the great religious solemnities are taking place. According to a remark of Spencer and Gillen,¹⁰⁴⁴ which we have already had occasion to cite, the life of the Australian is divided into two very distinct parts: the one is devoted to hunting, fishing and warfare; the other is consecrated to the cult, and these two forms of activity mutually exclude and repel one another. It is on this principle that the universal institution of religious days of rest reposes. The distinctive character of the feast-days in all known religions is the cessation of work and the suspension of public and private life, in so far as it does not have a religious objective. This repose is not merely a sort of temporary relaxation which men have given themselves in order to give themselves up more freely to the sentiments of joy ordinarily awakened by the feast-days; for they are sad feasts, consecrated to mourning and repentance, and during which this cessation is no less obligatory. This is because work is an eminent form of profane activity: it has no other apparent end than to provide for the temporal necessities of life; it puts us in relations with ordinary things only. On feast days, on the contrary, the religious life attains an exceptional degree of intensity. So the contrast between the two forms of existence is especially marked at this moment; consequently, they cannot remain near to each other. A man cannot approach his god intimately while he still bears on him marks of his profane life; inversely, he cannot return to his usual occupations when a rite has just sanctified him. So the ritual day of rest is only one particular case of the general incompatibility separating the sacred from the profane; it is the result of an interdiction.

For the same reason, all secular occupations stop during great religious ceremonies. Spencer and Gillen¹⁰⁴⁴ made an observation we have already cited. The life of an Australian is divided into two very distinct parts. One is devoted to hunting, fishing, and warfare. The other is devoted to religious worship. These two forms of activity exclude and repel each other. This principle underlies the universal institution of religious days of rest. In all known religions, feast days are marked by a halt to work. Public and private life are also suspended, insofar as they do not serve a religious purpose. This rest is not merely a temporary break people take to enjoy the feelings of joy that feast days usually bring. There are also sorrowful feasts, devoted to mourning and repentance, when stopping work is no less obligatory. The reason is that work is a primary form of profane activity. Its only apparent purpose is to provide for the material needs of life. It brings us into contact only with ordinary things. On feast days, by contrast, religious life reaches an exceptional intensity. The contrast between the two forms of existence is therefore especially sharp at these times. As a result, they cannot remain close to each other. A person cannot approach a god intimately while still bearing marks of profane life. Conversely, a person cannot return to ordinary occupations immediately after a rite has made them sacred. The ritual day of rest is therefore one particular case of the general incompatibility between the sacred and the profane. It results from a prohibition.

It would be impossible to enumerate here all the different interdictions which have been observed, even in the Australian religions alone. Like the notion of sacredness upon which it rests, the system of interdicts extends into the most diverse relations; it is even used deliberately for utilitarian ends.¹⁰⁴⁵ But howsoever complex it may be, it finally rests upon two fundamental interdictions, which summarize it and dominate it.

It would be impossible to list here all the different prohibitions observed in Australian religions alone. Like the idea of sacredness on which it rests, the system of prohibitions extends to many different kinds of relationships. It is even used deliberately for practical purposes.¹⁰⁴⁵ But however complex the system may be, it ultimately rests on two fundamental prohibitions. These summarize and govern the whole system.

In the first place, the religious life and the profane life cannot coexist in the same place. If the former is to develop, a special spot must be placed at its disposition, from which the second is excluded. Hence comes the founding of temples and sanctuaries: these are the spots awarded to sacred beings and things and serve them as residences, for they cannot establish themselves in any place except on the condition of entirely appropriating to themselves all within a certain distance. Such arrangements are so indispensable to all religious life that even the most inferior religions cannot do without them. The ertnatulunga, the spot where the churinga are deposited, is a veritable sanctuary. So the uninitiated are not allowed to approach it. It is even forbidden to carry on any profane occupation whatsoever there. As we shall presently see, there are other holy places where important ceremonies are celebrated.¹⁰⁴⁶

First, religious life and profane life cannot coexist in the same place. If religious life is to develop, it must have a special place from which profane life is excluded. This is why temples and sanctuaries are founded. These places are set aside as homes for sacred beings and things. Sacred beings and things can only dwell in a place if they claim everything within a certain distance as their own. Such arrangements are indispensable to all religious life. Even the most primitive religions cannot do without them. The ertnatulunga, where the churinga are kept, is a true sanctuary. The uninitiated are therefore not allowed to approach it. Any profane activity there is also forbidden. As we shall soon see, there are other holy places where important ceremonies are held.¹⁰⁴⁶

Likewise, the religious life and the profane life cannot coexist in the same unit of time. It is necessary to assign determined days or periods to the first, from which all profane occupations are excluded. Thus feast days are born. There is no religion, and, consequently, no society which has not known and practised this division of time into two distinct parts, alternating with one another according to a law varying with the peoples and the civilizations; as we have already pointed out, it was probably the necessity of this alternation which led men to introduce into the continuity and homogeneity of duration, certain distinctions and differentiations which it does not naturally have.¹⁰⁴⁷ Of course, it is almost impossible that the religious life should ever succeed in concentrating itself hermetically in the places and times which are thus attributed to it; it is inevitable that a little of it should filter out. There are always some sacred things outside the sanctuaries; there are some rites that can be celebrated on work-days. But these are sacred things of the second rank and rites of a lesser importance. Concentration remains the dominating characteristic of this organization. Generally this concentration is complete for all that concerns the public cult, which cannot be celebrated except in common. The individual, private cult is the only one which comes very near to the temporal life. Thus the contrast between these two successive phases of human life attains its maximum of intensity in the inferior societies; for it is there that the individual cult is the most rudimentary.¹⁰⁴⁸

Likewise, religious life and secular life cannot coexist at the same time. Certain days or periods must be set aside for religious life, and all secular occupations must be excluded from them. This is how feast days arise. Every religion, and therefore every society, has known and practiced this division of time into two distinct, alternating parts. The pattern of alternation varies among peoples and civilizations. As we have already noted, this need for alternation probably led people to divide the continuous, uniform flow of time. These divisions and distinctions do not naturally exist in time itself.¹⁰⁴⁷ Of course, religious life can hardly ever be completely confined to the places and times assigned to it. Some of it inevitably filters out. There are always some sacred things outside sanctuaries, and some rites can be performed on workdays. But these sacred things are of secondary rank, and these rites are less important. Concentration remains the dominant feature of this organization. Generally, everything concerning public worship is completely concentrated in this way, since public worship can only be celebrated together. Only individual, private worship comes very close to everyday life. Thus the contrast between these two successive phases of human life is most intense in less developed societies. For it is in these societies that individual worship is most rudimentary.¹⁰⁴⁸

Up to the present, the negative cult has been presented to us only as a system of abstentions. So it seems to serve only to inhibit activity, and not to stimulate it or to modify it. And yet, as an unexpected reaction to this inhibitive effect, it is found to exercise a positive action of the highest importance over the religious and moral nature of the individual.

So far, the negative cult has been presented only as a system of abstentions. It therefore seems only to restrict activity, not to encourage or change it. Yet, unexpectedly, this restrictive effect produces a positive effect of the highest importance on the individual’s religious and moral nature.

In fact, owing to the barrier which separates the sacred from the profane, a man cannot enter into intimate relations with sacred things except after ridding himself of all that is profane in him. He cannot lead a religious life of even a slight intensity unless he commences by withdrawing more or less completely from the temporal life. So the negative cult is in one sense a means in view of an end: it is a condition of access to the positive cult. It does not confine itself to protecting sacred beings from vulgar contact; it acts upon the worshipper himself and modifies his condition positively. The man who has submitted himself to its prescribed interdictions is not the same afterwards as he was before. Before, he was an ordinary being who, for this reason, had to keep at a distance from the religious forces. Afterwards, he is on a more equal footing with them; he has approached the sacred by the very act of leaving the profane; he has purified and sanctified himself by the very act of detaching himself from the base and trivial matters that debased his nature. So the negative rites confer efficient powers just as well as the positive ones; the first, like the second, can serve to elevate the religious tone of the individual. According to a very true remark which has been made, no one can engage in a religious ceremony of any importance without first submitting himself to a sort of preliminary initiation which introduces him progressively into the sacred world.¹⁰⁴⁹ Unctions, lustrations, benedictions or any essentially positive operation may be used for this purpose; but the same result may be attained by means of fasts and vigils or retreat and silence, that is to say, by ritual abstinences, which are nothing more than certain interdictions put into practice.

In fact, a barrier separates the sacred from the profane. Because of this barrier, a person cannot enter into close relations with sacred things without first shedding everything profane in themselves. A person cannot lead even a slightly intense religious life without first withdrawing more or less completely from everyday life. So the negative cult is, in one sense, a means to an end. It is a condition for taking part in the positive cult. It does more than protect sacred beings from ordinary contact. It also acts on worshippers and changes their condition in a positive way. A person who has obeyed its prescribed prohibitions is not the same afterward. Before, the person was an ordinary being who, for that reason, had to keep a distance from religious forces. Afterward, the person is on a more equal footing with those forces. By leaving the profane behind, the person has drawn closer to the sacred. By letting go of the base and trivial matters that degraded their nature, the person has purified and sanctified themselves. So negative rites confer effective powers just as positive rites do. Both kinds of rites can raise an individual's level of religious feeling. As someone has very rightly observed, no one can take part in an important religious ceremony without first undergoing a kind of preliminary initiation. This initiation gradually introduces the person to the sacred world.¹⁰⁴⁹ Anointing, ritual washing, blessings, or any essentially positive act may be used for this purpose. But the same result may be achieved through fasting, keeping vigil, withdrawing from ordinary life, or keeping silent. These are ritual forms of abstinence, which are simply certain prohibitions put into practice.

When there are only particular and isolated negative rites, their positive action is generally too slight to be easily perceptible. But there are circumstances when a whole system of interdictions is concentrated on one man; in these cases, their effects accumulate, and thus become more manifest. This takes place in Australia at the time of the initiation. The neophyte is submitted to a great variety of negative rites. He must withdraw from the society in which his existence has been passed up till then, and from almost all human society. Not only is it forbidden for him to see women and uninitiated persons,¹⁰⁵⁰ but he also goes to live in the brush, far from his fellows, under the direction of some old men who serve him as godfathers.¹⁰⁵¹ So very true is it that the forest is considered his natural environment, that in a certain number of tribes, the word with which the initiation is designated signifies that which is from the forest.¹⁰⁵² For this same reason, he is frequently decorated with leaves during the ceremonies at which he assists.¹⁰⁵³ In this way he passes long months,¹⁰⁵⁴ interspersed from time to time with rites in which he must take a part. This time is a period of all sorts of abstinences for him. A multitude of foods are forbidden him; he is allowed only that quantity of food which is absolutely indispensable for the maintenance of life;¹⁰⁵⁵ he is even sometimes bound to a rigorous fast,¹⁰⁵⁶ or must eat impure foods.¹⁰⁵⁷ When he eats, he must not touch the food with his hands; his godfathers put it into his mouth for him.¹⁰⁵⁸ In some cases, he must go to beg his food.¹⁰⁵⁹ Likewise, he sleeps only as much as is indispensable.¹⁰⁶⁰ He must abstain from talking, to the extent of not uttering a word; it is by signs that he makes known his needs.¹⁰⁶¹ He must not wash;¹⁰⁶² sometimes he must not move. He remains stretched out upon the earth, immobile¹⁰⁶³ and without clothing of any sort.¹⁰⁶⁴ Now the result of the numerous interdictions is to bring about a radical change of condition in the initiate. Before the initiation, he lived with the women; he was excluded from the cult. After it, he is admitted to the society of men; he takes part in the rites, and has acquired a sacred character. The metamorphosis is so complete that it is sometimes represented as a second birth. They imagine that the profane person, who was the young man up till then, has died, that he has been killed and carried away by the god of the initiation, Bunjil, Baiame or Daramulun, and that quite another individual has taken the place of the one that no longer is.¹⁰⁶⁵ So here we find the very heart of the positive effects of which negative rites are capable. Of course we do not mean to say that these latter produced this great transformation all by themselves; but they certainly contributed to it, and largely.

When negative rites occur only individually and in isolation, their positive effects are generally too slight to notice easily. But sometimes a whole system of prohibitions is imposed on one person. In such cases, the effects add up and become more apparent. This happens in Australia during initiation. The initiate undergoes a great variety of negative rites. He must withdraw from the society in which he has lived until then, and from almost all human society. He is forbidden to see women and uninitiated people.¹⁰⁵⁰ He also goes to live in the bush, far from his companions, under the guidance of older men who serve as his godfathers.¹⁰⁵¹ The forest is so clearly considered his natural environment that, in some tribes, the word for initiation means that which is from the forest.¹⁰⁵² For the same reason, he is often decorated with leaves during the ceremonies in which he takes part.¹⁰⁵³ He spends many months this way,¹⁰⁵⁴ taking part in rites from time to time. During this period, he must give up all sorts of things. Many foods are forbidden to him. He is allowed only the food absolutely necessary to keep him alive.¹⁰⁵⁵ Sometimes he must even observe a strict fast,¹⁰⁵⁶ or eat impure foods.¹⁰⁵⁷ When he eats, he must not touch the food with his hands. His godfathers put it into his mouth for him.¹⁰⁵⁸ In some cases, he must beg for his food.¹⁰⁵⁹ Likewise, he sleeps only as much as he must.¹⁰⁶⁰ He must refrain from speaking, not uttering a single word. He makes his needs known through signs.¹⁰⁶¹ He must not wash.¹⁰⁶² Sometimes he must not move. He remains stretched out motionless on the ground,¹⁰⁶³ without any clothing.¹⁰⁶⁴ These many prohibitions bring about a radical change in the initiate’s condition. Before initiation, he lived with the women and was excluded from the cult. Afterward, he is admitted to the society of men. He takes part in the rites and has acquired a sacred character. The transformation is so complete that it is sometimes portrayed as a second birth. People imagine that the profane person the young man had been has died. They imagine that the god of initiation, Bunjil, Baiame or Daramulun, has killed him and carried him away. A completely different person has taken the place of the one who no longer exists.¹⁰⁶⁵ Here, then, we find the very heart of the positive effects that negative rites can produce. Of course, we do not mean that negative rites brought about this great transformation on their own. But they certainly contributed to it, and to a great extent.

In the light of these facts, we are able to understand what asceticism is, what place it occupies in the religious life and whence come the virtues which have generally been attributed to it. In fact, there is no interdict, the observance of which does not have an ascetic character to a certain degree. Abstaining from something which may be useful or from a form of activity which, since it is usual, should answer to some human need, is, of necessity, imposing constraints and renunciations. So in order to have real asceticism, it is sufficient for these practices to develop in such a way as to become the basis of a veritable scheme of life. Normally, the negative cult serves only as an introduction and preparation for the positive cult. But it sometimes happens that it frees itself from this subordination and passes to the first place, and that the system of interdicts swells and exaggerates itself to the point of usurping the entire existence. Thus a systematic asceticism is born which is consequently nothing more than a hypertrophy of the negative cult. The special virtues which it is believed to confer are only an amplified form of those conferred, to a lesser degree, by the practice of any interdiction. They have the same origin; for they both rest on the principle that a man sanctifies himself only by efforts made to separate himself from the profane. The pure ascetic is a man who raises himself above men and acquires a special sanctity by fasts and vigils, by retreat and silence, or in a word, by privations, rather than by acts of positive piety (offerings, sacrifices, prayers, etc.). History shows to what a high religious prestige one may attain by this method: the Buddhist saint is essentially an ascetic, and he is equal or superior to the gods.

These facts help us understand what asceticism is, what place it holds in religious life, and where its generally recognized virtues come from. In fact, obeying any religious prohibition is ascetic to some degree. We may abstain from something useful, or from an activity that is usual and therefore must meet some human need. Either way, we necessarily impose restraints and give things up. So, for true asceticism to exist, these practices need only develop into the basis of a complete way of life. Normally, the negative cult serves only as an introduction and preparation for the positive cult. But sometimes the negative cult breaks free from this subordinate role and takes first place. Its system of prohibitions grows and becomes so extreme that it takes over a person's entire life. This is how systematic asceticism arises. It is therefore nothing more than an excessive growth of the negative cult. The special virtues asceticism is believed to confer are only an amplified form of those gained, to a lesser degree, by observing any prohibition. Both have the same origin. Both rest on the principle that a person becomes holy only by making efforts to separate from the profane. The pure ascetic rises above other people and gains a special holiness through fasting and keeping vigil, through withdrawal and silence. In short, the ascetic gains holiness through self-denial rather than through acts of positive piety, such as offerings, sacrifices, and prayers. History shows how much religious prestige a person may gain by this method. The Buddhist saint is essentially an ascetic, and is equal or superior to the gods.

It follows that asceticism is not a rare, exceptional and nearly abnormal fruit of the religious life, as some have supposed it to be; on the contrary, it is one of its essential elements. Every religion contains it, at least in germ, for there are none in which a system of interdicts is not found. Their only difference in this regard which there may be between cults is that this germ is more or less developed in different ones. It should also be added that there probably is not a single one in which this development does not take, at least temporarily, the characteristic traits of real asceticism. This is what generally takes place at certain critical periods when, for a relatively short time, it is necessary to bring about a grave change of condition in a subject. Then, in order to introduce him more rapidly into the circle of sacred things with which he must be put in contact, he is separated violently from the profane world; but this does not come without many abstinences and an exceptional recrudescence of the system of interdicts. Now this is just what happens in Australia at the moment of initiation. In order to transform youths into men, it is necessary to make them live the life of a veritable ascetic. Mrs. Parker very justly calls them the monks of Baiame.¹⁰⁶⁶

It follows that asceticism is not a rare, exceptional, and nearly abnormal product of religious life, as some have supposed. On the contrary, it is one of the essential elements of religious life. Every religion contains it, at least in seed form, because every religion has a system of prohibitions. Religions differ in this respect only in how fully this seed has developed. We should also add that probably every religion develops this seed, at least temporarily, into something resembling true asceticism. This generally happens at certain critical periods, when a person must undergo a profound change in a relatively short time. The person is then forcibly separated from the everyday world. This separation brings the person more quickly into the realm of sacred things with which they must come into contact. But it also requires many acts of abstinence and an exceptional increase in prohibitions. This is just what happens in Australia at the time of initiation. To transform youths into men, they must be made to live like true ascetics. Mrs. Parker very rightly calls them the monks of Baiame.¹⁰⁶⁶

But abstinences and privations do not come without suffering. We hold to the profane world by all the fibres of our flesh; our senses attach us to it; our life depends upon it. It is not merely the natural theatre of our activity; it penetrates us from every side; it is a part of ourselves. So we cannot detach ourselves from it without doing violence to our nature and without painfully wounding our instincts. In other words, the negative cult cannot develop without causing suffering. Pain is one of its necessary conditions. Some have been led to think of it as constituting a sort of rite in itself; they have seen in it a state of grace which is to be sought and aroused, even artificially, because of the powers and privileges which it confers in the same way as these systems of interdicts, of which it is the natural accompaniment. So far as we know, Preuss is the first who has realized the religious rôle¹⁰⁶⁷ which is attributed to suffering in the inferior societies. He cites the case of the Arapahs who inflict veritable torments upon themselves in order to become immune from the dangers of battle; of the Big Belly Indians who submit to actual tortures on the eve of military expeditions; of the Hupa who swim in icy rivers and then remain stretched out on the bank as long as possible, in order to assure themselves of success in their enterprises; of the Karaya who from time to time draw blood from their arms and legs by means of scratches made out of the teeth of fish, in order to strengthen their muscles; of the men of Dallmannhafen (Emperor William's Land in New Guinea) who combat the sterility of their women by making bloody incisions in the upper part of their thighs.¹⁰⁶⁸

But abstinence and deprivation do not come without suffering. Every fiber of our being binds us to the profane world. Our senses attach us to it, and our lives depend on it. It is not just the natural setting for our activity. It reaches into us from every side and is part of who we are. So we cannot detach ourselves from it without doing violence to our nature and painfully wounding our instincts. In other words, the negative cult cannot develop without causing suffering. Pain is one of its necessary conditions. Some have therefore come to think of suffering as a kind of rite in itself. They have seen it as a state of grace that should be sought and brought about, even artificially. This is because suffering grants powers and privileges, just as the systems of prohibitions it naturally accompanies do. As far as we know, Preuss was the first to recognize the religious role¹⁰⁶⁷ attributed to suffering in the lower societies. He cites the Arapahs, who inflict real torment on themselves to become immune to the dangers of battle. He also cites the Big Belly Indians, who undergo actual torture on the eve of military expeditions. The Hupa swim in icy rivers and then lie stretched out on the bank as long as possible. They do this to ensure success in their undertakings. The Karaya scratch their arms and legs with fish teeth from time to time, drawing blood to strengthen their muscles. The men of Dallmannhafen (Emperor William's Land in New Guinea) fight sterility among their women by making bloody cuts in their own upper thighs.¹⁰⁶⁸

But similar facts may be found without leaving Australia, especially in the course of the initiation ceremonies. Many of the rites practised on this occasion consist in systematically inflicting certain pains on the neophyte in order to modify his condition and to make him acquire the qualities characteristic of a man. Thus, among the Larakia, while the young men are in retreat in the forest, their godfathers and guardians give them violent blows at any instant, without warning and without cause.¹⁰⁶⁹ Among the Urabunna, at a certain time, the novice is stretched out on the ground, his face against the earth. All the men present beat him rudely; then they make four or eight gashes on his back, arranged on each side of the dorsal spine and one on the meridial line of the nape of his neck.¹⁰⁷⁰ Among the Arunta, the first rite of the initiation consists in tossing the subject in a blanket; the men throw him into the air and catch him when he comes down, to throw him up again.¹⁰⁷¹ In the same tribe, at the close of this long series of ceremonies, the young man lies down on a bed of leaves under which they have placed live coals; he remains there, immobile in the midst of the heat and suffocating smoke.¹⁰⁷² A similar rite is observed among the Urabunna; but in addition, while the patient is in this painful situation, they beat him on the back.¹⁰⁷³ In a general way, all the exercises to which he is submitted have this same character to such an extent that when he is allowed to re-enter the ordinary life, he has a pitiful aspect and appears half stupefied.¹⁰⁷⁴ It is true that all these practices are frequently represented as ordeals destined to prove the value of the neophyte and to show whether he is worthy of being admitted into the religious society or not.¹⁰⁷⁵ But in reality, the probational function of the rite is only another aspect of its efficacy. For the fact that it has been undergone is proved by its producing its effect, that is to say, by its conferring the qualities which are the original reason for its existence.

But similar examples can be found in Australia itself, especially during initiation ceremonies. Many of these rites involve deliberately inflicting pain on the initiate. Their purpose is to change his condition and give him the qualities characteristic of a man. Among the Larakia, for example, the young men withdraw into the forest. While they are there, their godfathers and guardians strike them violently at any moment, without warning or cause.¹⁰⁶⁹ Among the Urabunna, at a certain point, the novice is laid on the ground, face down. All the men present beat him roughly. Then they make four or eight cuts on his back, arranged on either side of his spine. They also make one cut along the center of the back of his neck.¹⁰⁷⁰ Among the Arunta, the first initiation rite consists of tossing the initiate in a blanket. The men throw him into the air, catch him as he comes down, and throw him up again.¹⁰⁷¹ In the same tribe, the long series of ceremonies ends with the young man lying on a bed of leaves. Live coals have been placed beneath the leaves. He remains there motionless, amid the heat and suffocating smoke.¹⁰⁷² The Urabunna observe a similar rite. But they also beat the initiate on the back while he is in this painful position.¹⁰⁷³ In general, all the exercises he undergoes have this same character. As a result, when he is allowed to return to ordinary life, he looks pitiful and appears half stunned.¹⁰⁷⁴ It is true that all these practices are often described as ordeals meant to test the initiate's worth. On this account, they show whether he is worthy of admission to the religious society.¹⁰⁷⁵ But in reality, the rite's function as a test is only another aspect of its effectiveness. The rite shows that it has been undergone by producing its effect. That is, it gives the initiate the qualities for which the rite exists in the first place.

In other cases, these ritual cruelties are executed, not on the organism as a whole, but on a particular organ or tissue, whose vitality it is their object to stimulate. Thus, among the Arunta, the Warramunga and many other tribes,¹⁰⁷⁶ at a certain moment in the initiation, certain persons are charged with biting the novice severely in the scalp. This operation is so painful that the patient can hardly support it without uttering cries. Its object is to make the hair grow.¹⁰⁷⁷ The same treatment is applied to make the beard grow. The rite of pulling out hairs, which Howitt mentions in other tribes, seems to have the same reason for existence.¹⁰⁷⁸ According to Eylmann, the men and women of the Arunta and the Kaitish make small wounds on their arms with sticks red with fire, in order to become skilful in making fire or to acquire the strength necessary for carrying heavy loads of wood.¹⁰⁷⁹ According to this same observer, the Warramunga girls amputate the second and third joints of the index finger on one hand, thinking that the finger thus becomes better fitted for finding yams.¹⁰⁸⁰

In other cases, these ritual cruelties are carried out on a particular organ or tissue, rather than the whole body. Their purpose is to stimulate its vitality. Among the Arunta, the Warramunga and many other tribes,¹⁰⁷⁶ certain people are assigned to bite the novice’s scalp severely at a particular point in the initiation. The biting is so painful that the novice can hardly bear it without crying out. Its purpose is to make the hair grow.¹⁰⁷⁷ The same treatment is used to make the beard grow. The ritual of pulling out hairs, which Howitt mentions among other tribes, seems to serve the same purpose.¹⁰⁷⁸ According to Eylmann, Arunta and Kaitish men and women use red-hot sticks to make small wounds on their arms. They do this to become skilled at making fire or to gain the strength needed to carry heavy loads of wood.¹⁰⁷⁹ According to the same observer, Warramunga girls cut off the second and third joints of the index finger on one hand. They believe that this makes the finger better suited to finding yams.¹⁰⁸⁰

It is not impossible that the extraction of teeth was sometimes destined to produce effects of this sort. In any case, it is certain that the cruel rites of circumcision and subincision have the object of conferring particular powers on the genital organs. In fact, the young man is not allowed to marry until after he has undergone them; so he owes them special virtues. What makes this initiation sui generis indispensable is that in all inferior societies, the union of the sexes is marked with a religious character. It is believed to put redoubtable forces into play which a man cannot approach without danger, until after he has acquired the necessary immunity, by ritual processes:¹⁰⁸¹ for this, a whole series of positive and negative practices is used, of which circumcision and subincision are the forerunners. By painfully mutilating an organ, a sacred character is given to it, since by that act, it is put into shape for resisting the equally sacred forces which it could not meet otherwise.

It is possible that tooth extraction was sometimes intended to produce effects of this kind. In any case, the cruel rites of circumcision and subincision certainly aim to give special powers to the genital organs. A young man is not allowed to marry until he has undergone these rites. He therefore owes special powers to them. This sui generis initiation is essential because, in all lower societies, sexual union has a religious character. People believe that it brings dangerous forces into play. A man cannot approach these forces safely until ritual processes have given him the necessary immunity.¹⁰⁸¹ For this purpose, a whole series of prescribed and forbidden practices is used, beginning with circumcision and subincision. Painfully mutilating an organ gives it a sacred character. This act prepares the organ to withstand equally sacred forces that it could not otherwise face.

At the beginning of this work, we said that all the essential elements of religious thought and life ought to be found, at least in germ, in the most primitive religions: the preceding facts confirm this assertion. If there is any one belief which is believed to be peculiar to the most recent and idealistic religions, it is the one attributing a sanctifying power to sorrow. Now this same belief is at the basis of the rites which have just been observed. Of course, it is understood differently at the different moments of history when it is studied. For the Christian, it acts especially upon the soul: it purges it, ennobles it, spiritualizes it. For the Australian, it is the body over which it is efficient: it increases its vital energies; it makes its beard and hair grow; it toughens its members. But in both cases the principle is the same. In both it is admitted that suffering creates exceptional strength. And this belief is not without foundation. In fact, it is by the way in which he braves suffering that the greatness of a man is best manifested. He never rises above himself with more brilliancy than when he subdues his own nature to the point of making it follow a way contrary to the one it would spontaneously take. By this, he distinguishes himself from all the other creatures who follow blindly wherever pleasure calls them; by this, he makes a place apart for himself in the world. Suffering is the sign that certain of the bonds attaching him to his profane environment are broken; so it testifies that he is partially freed from this environment, and, consequently, it is justly considered the instrument of deliverance. So he who is thus delivered is not the victim of a pure illusion when he believes himself invested with a sort of mastery over things: he really has raised himself above them, by the very act of renouncing them; he is stronger than nature, because he makes it subside.

At the beginning of this work, we said that all the essential elements of religious thought and life should be found, at least in their earliest form, in the most primitive religions. The facts presented above confirm this claim. If any belief is thought to belong specifically to the most recent and idealistic religions, it is the belief that suffering has the power to make things sacred. Yet this same belief is the basis of the rites we have just examined. Of course, the belief is understood differently at different points in history. For the Christian, suffering acts mainly on the soul: it purifies, ennobles, and spiritualizes the soul. For the Australian, suffering acts on the body: it increases its vital energy, makes its beard and hair grow, and toughens its limbs. But the principle is the same in both cases. Both hold that suffering creates exceptional strength. This belief is not without foundation. A person's greatness is best shown by how they face suffering. People rise above themselves most brilliantly when they master their own nature, making it follow a path contrary to the one it would naturally take. In this way, they distinguish themselves from all other creatures, who blindly follow wherever pleasure calls them. In this way, they make a place apart for themselves in the world. Suffering is a sign that certain bonds tying a person to their profane surroundings have been broken. It shows that they are partly free from those surroundings. Suffering is therefore rightly considered a means of deliverance. So a person freed in this way is not simply deceived when they believe they have gained a kind of mastery over things. They really have risen above those things by giving them up. They are stronger than nature because they make it yield.

Moreover, it is by no means true that this virtue has only an æsthetic value: the whole religious life supposes it. Sacrifices and privations do not come without privations which cost the worshipper dear. Even if the rites do not demand material gifts from him, they require his time and his strength. In order to serve his gods, he must forget himself; to make for them a fitting place in his own life, he must sacrifice his profane interests. The positive cult is possible only when a man is trained to renouncement, to abnegation, to detachment from self, and consequently to suffering. It is necessary that he have no dread of them: he cannot even fulfil his duties joyfully unless he loves them to some extent. But for that, it is necessary that he train himself, and it is to this that the ascetic practices tend. So the suffering which they impose is not arbitrary and sterile cruelty; it is a necessary school, where men form and temper themselves, and acquire the qualities of disinterestedness and endurance without which there would be no religion. If this result is to be obtained, it is even a good thing that the ascetic ideal be incarnated eminently in certain persons, whose speciality, so to speak, it is to represent, almost with excess, this aspect of the ritual life; for they are like so many living models, inciting to effort. Such is the historic rôle of the great ascetics. When their deeds and acts are analysed in detail, one asks himself what useful end they can have. He is struck by the fact that there is something excessive in the disdain they profess for all that ordinarily impassions men. But these exaggerations are necessary to sustain among the believers a sufficient disgust for an easy life and common pleasures. It is necessary that an elite put the end too high, if the crowd is not to put it too low. It is necessary that some exaggerate, if the average is to remain at a fitting level.

Moreover, this virtue is not merely a matter of aesthetic value. All religious life depends on it. Sacrifices and acts of self-denial involve hardships that cost the worshipper dearly. Even if rites do not demand material gifts, they require time and energy. To serve his gods, a man must forget himself. To give them a fitting place in his life, he must sacrifice his worldly interests. Positive worship is possible only when a man is trained to renounce, deny, and detach himself, and consequently to suffer. He must not dread these things. He cannot even carry out his duties joyfully unless he loves them to some extent. But for that, he must train himself, and ascetic practices serve this purpose. So the suffering that ascetic practices impose is not arbitrary and pointless cruelty. It is a necessary training ground where people shape and strengthen themselves. There they acquire the selflessness and endurance without which there would be no religion. To achieve this result, it is even good for certain people to embody the ascetic ideal to an exceptional degree. Their specialty, so to speak, is to represent this aspect of ritual life, almost to excess. For they are living examples who inspire others to make an effort. Such is the historical role of the great ascetics. When we examine their deeds and actions in detail, we may wonder what useful purpose they serve. We are struck by how excessive their professed contempt seems for everything that ordinarily excites people. But these exaggerations are necessary to keep believers sufficiently averse to an easy life and ordinary pleasures. An elite must set the goal too high if the crowd is not to set it too low. Some must exaggerate if the average is to remain at a suitable level.

But asceticism does not serve religious ends only. Here, as elsewhere, religious interests are only the symbolic form of social and moral interests. The ideal beings to whom the cults are addressed are not the only ones who demand of their followers a certain disdain for suffering: society itself is possible only at this price. Though exalting the strength of man, it is frequently rude to individuals; it necessarily demands perpetual sacrifices from them; it is constantly doing violence to our natural appetites, just because it raises us above ourselves. If we are going to fulfil our duties towards it, then we must be prepared to do violence to our instincts sometimes and to ascend the decline of nature when it is necessary. So there is an asceticism which, being inherent in all social life, is destined to survive all the mythologies and all the dogmas; it is an integral part of all human culture. At bottom, this is the asceticism which is the reason for the existence of and the justification of that which has been taught by the religions of all times.

But asceticism does not serve only religious purposes. Here, as elsewhere, religious interests are merely the symbolic form of social and moral interests. Religious followers are expected to show a certain disregard for suffering. This is demanded not only by the ideal beings they worship. Society itself is possible only at this price. Though society strengthens human beings, it is often harsh toward individuals. It necessarily demands constant sacrifices from them. It continually goes against our natural desires, precisely because it raises us above ourselves. So, if we are to fulfill our duties to society, we must be ready to resist our instincts at times. When necessary, we must also struggle against the pull of nature. So there is a kind of asceticism that is inherent in all social life. It is destined to survive all mythologies and all dogmas. It is an essential part of all human culture. At its core, this asceticism explains and justifies the asceticism taught by religions in all times.

Having determined what the system of interdicts consists in and what its positive and negative functions are, we must now seek the causes which have given it birth.

We have established what the system of prohibitions consists of and what its positive and negative functions are. We must now look for the causes that gave rise to this system.

In one sense, it is logically implied in the very notion of sacredness. All that is sacred is the object of respect, and every sentiment of respect is translated, in him who feels it, by movements of inhibition. In fact, a respected being is always expressed in the consciousness by a representation which, owing to the emotion it inspires, is charged with a high mental energy; consequently, it is armed in such a way as to reject to a distance every other representation which denies it in whole or in part. Now the sacred world and the profane world are antagonistic to each other. They correspond to two forms of life which mutually exclude one another, or which at least cannot be lived at the same time with the same intensity. We cannot give ourselves up entirely to the ideal beings to whom the cult is addressed and also to ourselves and our own interests at the same time; we cannot devote ourselves entirely to the group and entirely to our own egoism at once. Here there are two systems of conscious states which are directed and which direct our conduct towards opposite poles. So the one having the greater power of action should tend to exclude the other from the consciousness. When we think of holy things, the idea of a profane object cannot enter the mind without encountering grave resistance; something within us opposes itself to its installation. This is because the representation of a sacred thing does not tolerate neighbours. But this psychic antagonism and this mutual exclusion of ideas should naturally result in the exclusion of the corresponding things. If the ideas are not to coexist, the things must not touch each other or have any sort of relations. This is the very principle of the interdict.

In one sense, it follows logically from the very idea of sacredness. Everything sacred is respected, and every feeling of respect produces inhibitions in the person who feels it. A respected being is always present in the mind as an idea. Because of the emotion it inspires, this idea is charged with great mental energy. As a result, it pushes away every other idea that contradicts it wholly or partly. The sacred and the profane worlds are opposed to each other. They correspond to two forms of life that exclude each other, or at least cannot be lived with equal intensity at the same time. We cannot devote ourselves entirely to the ideal beings addressed in worship while also devoting ourselves entirely to our own interests. We cannot devote ourselves entirely to the group and entirely to our own selfish interests at once. These are two systems of conscious states that point toward opposite poles and direct our conduct toward them. So the system with greater power to act should tend to exclude the other from consciousness. When we think of holy things, the idea of a profane object cannot enter our minds without encountering serious resistance. Something within us opposes its entry. This is because the idea of a sacred thing tolerates no other ideas beside it. But this conflict within the mind, in which ideas exclude one another, should naturally lead to the exclusion of the corresponding things. If the ideas are not to coexist, the things must not touch or have any kind of relationship with each other. This is the very principle of the prohibition.

Moreover, the world of sacred things is, by definition, a world apart. Since it is opposed to the profane world by all the characteristics we have mentioned, it must be treated in its own peculiar way: it would be a misunderstanding of its nature and a confusion of it with something that it is not, to make use of the gestures, language and attitudes which we employ in our relations with ordinary things, when we have to do with the things that compose it. We may handle the former freely; we speak freely to vulgar beings; so we do not touch the sacred beings, or we touch them only with reserve; we do not speak in their presence, or we do not speak the common language there. All that is used in our commerce with the one must be excluded from our commerce with the other.

Moreover, the world of sacred things is, by definition, a world apart. In all the ways we have described, it stands opposed to the ordinary, or profane, world. It must therefore be treated in its own way. To use the gestures, language, and attitudes we use with ordinary things would be to misunderstand sacred things. It would be to confuse them with something they are not. We may handle ordinary things freely and speak freely to ordinary beings. But we do not touch sacred beings, or we touch them only with restraint. We do not speak in their presence, or we do not use ordinary language there. Everything we use in dealing with the one world must be kept out of our dealings with the other.

But if this explanation is not inexact, it is, nevertheless, insufficient. In fact, there are many beings which are the objects of respect without being protected by systems of rigorous interdictions such as those we have just described. Of course there is a general tendency of the mind to localize different things in different places, especially when they are incompatible with each other. But the profane environment and the sacred one are not merely distinct, but they are also closed to one another; between them there is an abyss. So there ought to be some particular reason in the nature of sacred things, which causes this exceptional isolation and mutual exclusion. And, in fact, by a sort of contradiction, the sacred world is inclined, as it were, to spread itself into this same profane world which it excludes elsewhere: at the same time that it repels it, it tends to flow into it as soon as it approaches. This is why it is necessary to keep them at a distance from one another and to create a sort of vacuum between them.

But even if this explanation is not inaccurate, it is still insufficient. Many beings are respected without being protected by strict prohibitions like those we have just described. Of course, the mind tends to place different things in different places, especially when they are incompatible. But the profane and sacred realms are not merely distinct. They are also closed to each other, with an abyss between them. So there must be some particular reason in the nature of sacred things for this exceptional separation and mutual exclusion. And yet, paradoxically, the sacred world tends to spread into the very profane world it otherwise excludes. Even as it repels the profane world, it tends to flow into it whenever it comes near. That is why it is necessary to keep the two realms apart and create a kind of vacuum between them.

What makes these precautions necessary is the extraordinary contagiousness of a sacred character. Far from being attached to the things which are marked with it, it is endowed with a sort of elusiveness. Even the most superficial or roundabout contact is sufficient to enable it to spread from one object to another. Religious forces are represented in the mind in such a way that they always seem ready to escape from the points where they reside and to enter everything passing within their range. The nanja tree where the spirit of an ancestor lives is sacred for the individual who considers himself the reincarnation of this ancestor. But every bird which alights upon this tree participates in this same nature: it is also forbidden to touch it.¹⁰⁸² We have already had occasion to show how simple contact with a churinga is enough to sanctify men and things;¹⁰⁸³ it is also upon this principle of the contagiousness of sacredness that all the rites of consecration repose. The sanctity of the churinga is so great that its action is even felt at a distance. It will be remembered how this extends not only to the cave where they are kept, but also to the whole surrounding district, to the animals who take refuge there, whom it is forbidden to kill, and to the plants which grow there, which must not be touched.¹⁰⁸⁴ A snake totem has its centre at a place where there is a water-hole. The sacred character of the totem is communicated to this place, to the water-hole and even to the water itself, which is forbidden to all the members of the totemic group.¹⁰⁸⁵ The initiate lives in an atmosphere charged with religiousness, and it is as though he were impregnated with it himself.¹⁰⁸⁶ Consequently all that he possesses and all that he touches is forbidden to the women, and withdrawn from their contact, even down to the bird he has struck with his stick, the kangaroo he has pierced with his lance or the fish which has bit on his hook.¹⁰⁸⁷ But, on the other hand, the rites to which he is submitted and the things which have a part in them have a sanctity superior to his own: this sanctity is contagiously transmitted to everything which evokes the idea of one or the other. The tooth which has been knocked out of him is considered very holy.¹⁰⁸⁸ For this reason, he may not eat animals with prominent teeth, because they make him think of his own lost tooth. The ceremonies of the Kuringal terminate with a ritual washing;¹⁰⁸⁹ acquatic birds are forbidden to the neophyte because they make him think of this rite. Animals that climb to the tops of trees are equally sacred for him, because they are too near to Daramulun, the god of the initiation, who lives in heaven.¹⁰⁹⁰ The soul of a dead man is a sacred thing: we have already seen how this same property passes to the corpse in which the soul resided, to the spot where this is buried, to the camp in which he lived when alive, and which is either destroyed or quitted, to the name he bore, to his wife and to his relations.¹⁰⁹¹ They, too, are invested, as it were, with a sacred character; consequently, men keep at a distance from them; they do not treat them as mere profane beings. In the societies observed by Dawson, their names, like that of the dead man, cannot be pronounced during the period of mourning.¹⁰⁹² Certain animals which he ate may also be prohibited.¹⁰⁹³

These precautions are necessary because sacredness spreads with extraordinary ease. Far from staying attached to the things it marks, it seems able to slip away. Even the slightest or most indirect contact is enough to spread it from one object to another. People imagine religious forces as always ready to escape from where they reside and enter anything within their reach. The nanja tree where an ancestor’s spirit lives is sacred to the person who considers himself that ancestor’s reincarnation. Every bird that lands on the tree shares its sacred nature. It is also forbidden to touch the bird.¹⁰⁸² We have already seen how simply touching a churinga is enough to make people and things sacred.¹⁰⁸³ All rites of consecration also depend on this principle that sacredness spreads. The churinga is so sacred that its influence is felt even at a distance. As we have seen, its sacredness extends beyond the cave where the churinga are kept to the whole surrounding area. It extends to the animals that take refuge there, which must not be killed, and to the plants that grow there, which must not be touched.¹⁰⁸⁴ A snake totem is centered at a place with a water-hole. The totem’s sacred character spreads to the place, the water-hole, and even the water itself. All members of the totemic group are forbidden to use the water.¹⁰⁸⁵ The initiate lives in an atmosphere charged with religious feeling, and it is as though he himself were filled with it.¹⁰⁸⁶ As a result, women are forbidden to touch anything he owns or touches. This includes even a bird he has struck with his stick, a kangaroo he has pierced with his lance, or a fish that has bitten his hook.¹⁰⁸⁷ But the rites he undergoes and the things involved in them are more sacred than he is. Their sacredness spreads to everything that brings either the rites or the things to mind. The tooth knocked out of him is considered very holy.¹⁰⁸⁸ For this reason, he may not eat animals with prominent teeth, because they remind him of his lost tooth. The Kuringal ceremonies end with a ritual washing.¹⁰⁸⁹ Aquatic birds are forbidden to the neophyte because they remind him of this rite. Animals that climb to the tops of trees are equally sacred to him. They are too close to Daramulun, the god of initiation, who lives in heaven.¹⁰⁹⁰ A dead man’s soul is sacred. We have already seen how this sacredness passes to the corpse in which the soul lived and to the place where the corpse is buried. It also passes to the camp where the man lived, which is either destroyed or abandoned. It passes to his name, his wife, and his relations.¹⁰⁹¹ They, too, become sacred, as it were. As a result, people keep their distance from them and do not treat them as merely profane beings. In the societies observed by Dawson, their names, like the dead man’s, cannot be spoken during mourning.¹⁰⁹² Certain animals that he ate may also be forbidden.¹⁰⁹³

This contagiousness of sacredness is too well known a phenomenon¹⁰⁹⁴ to require any proof of its existence from numerous examples; we only wish to show that it is as true in totemism as in the more advanced religions. When once established, it quickly explains the extreme rigour of the interdicts separating the sacred from the profane. Since, in virtue of this extraordinary power of expansion, the slightest contact, the least proximity, either material or simply moral, suffices to draw religious forces out of their domain, and since, on the other hand, they cannot leave it without contradicting their nature, a whole system of measures is indispensable for maintaining the two worlds at a respectful distance from one another. This is why it is forbidden to the profane, not only to touch, but even to see or hear that which is sacred, and why these two sorts of life cannot be mixed in their consciousnesses. Precautions are necessary to keep them apart because, though opposing one another, they tend to confuse themselves into one another.

The contagiousness of sacredness is too well known a phenomenon¹⁰⁹⁴ to require proof from numerous examples. We only wish to show that sacredness spreads in totemism just as it does in more advanced religions. Once established, this fact quickly explains the extreme strictness of the prohibitions separating the sacred from the profane. Religious forces have an extraordinary power to spread. The slightest contact or proximity, whether physical or merely moral, is enough to draw them out of their domain. Yet they cannot leave that domain without contradicting their nature. A whole system of measures is therefore essential to keep the two worlds at a respectful distance from each other. This is why profane people are forbidden not only to touch, but even to see or hear what is sacred. It is also why the two kinds of life cannot be mixed in their minds. Precautions are necessary to keep the two worlds apart because, although opposed, they tend to merge into each other.

When we understand the multiplicity of these interdicts we also understand the way in which they operate and the sanctions which are attached to them. Owing to the contagiousness inherent in all that is sacred, a profane being cannot violate an interdict without having the religious force, to which he has unduly approached, extend itself over him and establish its empire over him. But as there is an antagonism between them, he becomes dependent upon a hostile power, whose hostility cannot fail to manifest itself in the form of violent reactions which tend to destroy him. This is why sickness or death are considered the natural consequences of every transgression of this sort; and they are consequences which are believed to come by themselves, with a sort of physical necessity. The guilty man feels himself attacked by a force which dominates him and against which he is powerless. Has he eaten the totemic animal? Then he feels it penetrating him and gnawing at his vitals; he lies down on the ground and awaits death.¹⁰⁹⁵ Every profanation implies a consecration, but one which is dreadful, both for the subject consecrated and for those who approach him. It is the consequences of this consecration which sanction, in part, the interdict.¹⁰⁹⁶

When we understand the many kinds of religious prohibitions, we also understand how they work and what penalties follow from breaking them. Everything sacred is inherently contagious. So when a profane being violates a prohibition, the religious force approached without permission spreads to that being and takes control. But the two are opposed, so the profane being falls under the power of a hostile force. This hostility inevitably shows itself in violent reactions that tend to destroy the profane being. This is why sickness or death is considered the natural consequence of every such violation. These consequences are believed to follow on their own, as if by physical necessity. The guilty person feels attacked by a force that dominates him and against which he is powerless. Has he eaten the totemic animal? Then he feels the animal entering him and gnawing at his vital organs. He lies down on the ground and waits for death.¹⁰⁹⁵ Every act of desecration involves a consecration. But this consecration is dreadful both for the person consecrated and for those who approach him. The consequences of this consecration are part of the penalty for violating the prohibition.¹⁰⁹⁶

It should be noticed that this explanation of the interdicts does not depend upon the variable symbols by the aid of which religious forces are conceived. It matters little whether these are conceived as anonymous and impersonal energies or figured as personalities endowed with consciousness and feeling. In the former case, of course, they are believed to react against profaning transgressions in an automatic and unconscious manner, while in the latter case, they are thought to obey passionate movements determined by the offence resented. But at bottom, these two conceptions, which, moreover, have the same practical effect, only express one and the same psychic mechanism in two different languages. The basis of both is the antagonism of the sacred and the profane, combined with the remarkable aptitude of the former for spreading over to the latter; now this antagonism and this contagiousness act in the same way, whether the sacred character is attributed to blind forces or to conscious ones. Thus, so far is it from being true that the real religious life commences only where there are mythical personalities, that we see that in this case the rite remains the same, whether the religious beings are personified or not. This is a statement which we shall have occasion to repeat in each of the chapters which follow.

Notice that this explanation of religious prohibitions does not depend on the changing symbols used to represent religious forces. It matters little whether these forces are understood as anonymous, impersonal energies or imagined as beings with consciousness and feeling. In the first case, they are of course believed to react automatically and unconsciously to violations that profane the sacred. In the second, they are thought to respond with passionate emotions stirred by the offense they feel. But at heart, these two conceptions express the same psychological mechanism in different languages. They also have the same practical effect. Both are based on the opposition between the sacred and the profane, together with the sacred’s remarkable ability to spread to the profane. This opposition and this contagiousness work in the same way, whether the sacred character is attributed to blind forces or conscious ones. It is therefore far from true that real religious life begins only where there are mythical beings with distinct personalities. In this case, we see that the rite remains the same, whether or not religious beings are given personalities. We will have occasion to repeat this point in each of the following chapters.

But if this contagiousness of sacredness helps to explain the system of interdicts, how is it to be explained itself?

But if sacredness can spread and this helps explain the system of prohibitions, how can we explain its spread?

Some have tried to explain it with the well-known laws of the association of ideas. The sentiments inspired in us by a person or a thing spread contagiously from the idea of this thing or person to the representations associated with it, and thence to the objects which these representations express. So the respect which we have for a sacred being is communicated to everything touching this being, or resembling it, or recalling it. Of course a cultivated man is not deceived by these associations; he knows that these derived emotions are due to mere plays of the images and to entirely mental combinations, so he does not give way to the superstitions which these illusions tend to bring about. But they say that the primitive naïvely objectifies his impressions, without criticising them. Does something inspire a reverential fear in him? He concludes that an august and redoubtable force really resides in it; so he keeps at a distance from this thing and treats it as though it were sacred, even though it has no right to this title.¹⁰⁹⁷

Some have tried to explain it through the familiar laws of the association of ideas. The feelings a person or thing inspires in us spread from the idea of that person or thing to associated mental images. From there, the feelings spread to the objects those images represent. So our respect for a sacred being spreads to everything that touches, resembles, or reminds us of that being. Of course, an educated person is not deceived by these associations. They know that these transferred emotions result from mere plays of images and purely mental combinations. So they do not give in to the superstitions these illusions tend to produce. But, according to this explanation, a primitive person naively treats these impressions as properties of real objects, without examining them critically. Does something inspire a feeling of fearful reverence in him? He concludes that a majestic and fearsome force really exists in it. So he keeps his distance from the thing and treats it as sacred, even though it has no right to that title.¹⁰⁹⁷

But whoever says this forgets that the most primitive religions are not the only ones which have attributed this power of propagation to the sacred character. Even in the most recent cults, there is a group of rites which repose upon this principle. Does not every consecration by means of anointing or washing consist in transferring into a profane object the sanctifying virtues of a sacred one? Yet it is difficult to regard an enlightened Catholic of to-day as a sort of retarded savage who continues to be deceived by his associations of ideas, while nothing in the nature of things explains or justifies these ways of thinking. Moreover, it is quite arbitrarily that they attribute to the primitive this tendency to objectify blindly all his emotions. In his ordinary life, and in the details of his lay occupations, he does not impute the properties of one thing to its neighbours, or vice versa. If he is less careful than we are about clarity and distinction, still it is far from true that he has some vague, deplorable aptitude for jumbling and confusing everything. Religious thought alone has a marked leaning towards these sorts of confusions. So it is in something special to the nature of religious things, and not in the general laws of the human intelligence, that the origin of these predispositions is to be sought.

But anyone who says this forgets that the earliest religions were not alone in believing that sacredness could spread. Even the most recent forms of worship have rites based on this principle. Does not every consecration through anointing or washing transfer the sanctifying powers of a sacred object to a nonreligious one? Yet it is hard to regard an informed Catholic today as a kind of backward savage. Such a person could hardly still be misled by mental associations if nothing in the nature of things explained or justified such thinking. Moreover, it is quite arbitrary to claim that primitive people tend to turn all their emotions blindly into properties of objects. In ordinary life and in their everyday nonreligious activities, they do not attribute the properties of one thing to nearby things, or vice versa. They may be less careful than we are about clarity and distinctions. But it is far from true that they have some vague, regrettable tendency to mix up and confuse everything. Religious thought alone has a marked tendency toward these kinds of confusion. So the origin of these tendencies must be sought in something specific to religious things, not in general laws of human intelligence.

When a force or property seems to be an integral part or constituent element of the subject in which it resides, we cannot easily imagine its detaching itself and going elsewhere. A body is defined by its mass and its atomic composition; so we do not think that it could communicate any of these distinctive characteristics by means of contact. But, on the other hand, if we are dealing with a force which has penetrated the body from without, since nothing attaches it there and since it is foreign to the body, there is nothing inconceivable in its escaping again. Thus the heat or electricity which a body has received from some external source may be transmitted to the surrounding medium, and the mind readily accepts the possibility of this transmission. So the extreme facility with which religious forces spread out and diffuse themselves has nothing surprising about it, if they are generally thought of as outside of the beings in which they reside. Now this is just what the theory we have proposed implies.

When a force or property seems to be an essential part of something, we cannot easily imagine it leaving and going elsewhere. A body is defined by its mass and atomic composition. So we do not think it could pass on any of these defining characteristics through contact. But a force may enter a body from outside. Since the force is foreign to the body and nothing holds it there, we can imagine it escaping again. For example, heat or electricity that a body has received from an outside source may pass into its surroundings. We readily accept that this can happen. So it is not surprising that religious forces spread and diffuse so easily, if they are generally thought to be external to the beings in which they reside. And that is just what the theory we have proposed implies.

In fact, they are only collective forces hypostatized, that is to say, moral forces; they are made up of the ideas and sentiments awakened in us by the spectacle of society, and not of sensations coming from the physical world. So they are not homogeneous with the visible things among which we place them. They may well take from these things the outward and material forms in which they are represented, but they owe none of their efficacy to them. They are not united by external bonds to the different supports upon which they alight; they have no roots there; according to an expression we have already used¹⁰⁹⁸ and which serves best for characterizing them, they are added to them. So there are no objects which are predestined to receive them, to the exclusion of all others; even the most insignificant and vulgar may do so; accidental circumstances decide which are the chosen ones. The terms in which Codrington speaks of the mana should be borne in mind: it is a force, he says, which "is not fixed in anything and can be conveyed in almost anything."¹⁰⁹⁹ Likewise, the Dakota of Miss Fletcher represented the wakan as a sort of surrounding force which is always coming and going through the world, alighting here and there, but definitely fixing itself nowhere.¹¹⁰⁰ Even the religious character inherent in men does not have a different character. There is certainly no other being in the world of experience which is closer to the very source of all religious life; none participates in it more directly, for it is in human consciousnesses that it is elaborated. Yet we know that the religious principle animating men, to wit, the soul, is partially external.

In fact, these are only collective forces treated as things, that is, moral forces. They consist of the ideas and feelings that the sight of society awakens in us, not sensations from the physical world. So they are not of the same nature as the visible things among which we place them. They may take the outward, material forms in which we represent them from these things, but they owe none of their power to them. No external bonds unite these forces to the different things they settle on. They have no roots there. We have already used an expression¹⁰⁹⁸ that describes them best: they are added to them. So no objects are destined to receive these forces to the exclusion of all others. Even the most insignificant and ordinary objects may receive them. Accidental circumstances determine which objects are chosen. We should remember how Codrington describes mana. He says it is a force that "is not fixed in anything and can be conveyed in almost anything."¹⁰⁹⁹ Similarly, the Dakota described by Miss Fletcher saw wakan as a kind of surrounding force. It is always moving through the world, settling here and there, but never staying anywhere permanently.¹¹⁰⁰ The religious character inherent in human beings is no different. Certainly, no other being in the world of experience is closer to the very source of all religious life. None participates in it more directly, because religious life develops in human consciousness. Yet we know that the religious principle that animates human beings, namely the soul, is partly external.

But if religious forces have a place of their own nowhere, their mobility is easily explained. Since nothing attaches them to the things in which we localize them, it is natural that they should escape on the slightest contact, in spite of themselves, so to speak, and that they should spread afar. Their intensity incites them to this spreading, which everything favours. This is why the soul itself, though holding to the body by very personal bonds, is constantly threatening to leave it: all the apertures and pores of the body are just so many ways by which it tends to spread and diffuse itself into the outside.¹¹⁰¹

But if religious forces have no place of their own anywhere, their mobility is easy to explain. Nothing binds them to the things where we place them. So it is natural that they should escape at the slightest contact, against their will, so to speak, and spread far and wide. Their intensity drives them to spread, and everything helps them do so. This is why the soul itself is constantly threatening to leave the body, though it is bound to it by very personal ties. Every opening and pore in the body is a way for the soul to spread and diffuse into the world outside.¹¹⁰¹

But we shall account for this phenomenon which we are trying to understand, still better if, instead of considering the notion of religious forces as it is when completely formulated, we go back to the mental process from which it results.

But we can explain the phenomenon we are trying to understand even better by tracing the mental process behind the idea of religious forces. This will tell us more than considering the idea in its fully developed form.

We have seen, in fact, that the sacred character of a being does not rest in any of its intrinsic attributes. It is not because the totemic animal has a certain aspect or property that it inspires religious sentiments; these result from causes wholly foreign to the nature of the object upon which they fix themselves. What constitutes them are the impressions of comfort and dependence which the action of the society provokes in the mind. Of themselves, these emotions are not attached to the idea of any particular object; but as these emotions exist and are especially intense, they are also eminently contagious. So they make a stain of oil; they extend to all the other mental states which occupy the mind; they penetrate and contaminate those representations especially in which are expressed the various objects which the man had in his hands or before his eyes at the moment: the totemic designs covering his body, the bull-roarers which he was making roar, the rocks surrounding him, the ground under his feet, etc. It is thus that the objects themselves get a religious value which is really not inherent in them but is conferred from without. So the contagion is not a sort of secondary process by which sacredness is propagated, after it has once been acquired; it is the very process by which it is acquired. It is by contagion that it establishes itself: we should not be surprised, therefore, if it transmits itself contagiously. What makes its reality is a special emotion; if it attaches itself to some object, it is because this emotion has found this object in its way. So it is natural that from this one it should spread to all those which it finds in its neighbourhood, that is to say, to all those which any reason whatsoever, either material contiguity or mere similarity, has mentally connected with the first.

We have seen that a being’s sacred character does not come from any quality inherent in it. The totemic animal does not inspire religious feelings because it looks a certain way or has a particular property. These feelings arise from causes entirely unrelated to the nature of the object they attach themselves to. They consist of the feelings of comfort and dependence that society’s influence produces in the mind. These emotions are not inherently attached to the idea of any particular object. But they exist, and they are especially intense and highly contagious. So they spread like an oil stain to all the other mental states occupying the mind. They enter and affect the mental images of the objects a person was holding or looking at. These include the totemic designs covering his body, the bull-roarers he was sounding, the rocks around him, and the ground beneath his feet. In this way, the objects themselves acquire religious value. This value does not belong to them inherently but is given to them from outside. Contagion, then, is not a secondary process that spreads sacredness after an object has acquired it. It is the very process by which an object acquires sacredness. Sacredness takes hold through contagion, so we should not be surprised that it also spreads through contagion. A particular emotion is what makes sacredness real. If sacredness attaches itself to an object, it is because the emotion has encountered that object. So it is natural for sacredness to spread from that object to all those nearby. In other words, it spreads to all objects mentally connected with the first for any reason, whether physical closeness or mere similarity.

Thus, the contagiousness of sacredness finds its explanation in the theory which we have proposed of religious forces, and by this very fact, it serves to confirm our theory.¹¹⁰² And, at the same time, it aids us in understanding a trait of primitive mentality to which we have already called the attention.

Our theory of religious forces thus explains why sacredness is contagious. The contagiousness of sacredness, in turn, confirms our theory.¹¹⁰² It also helps us understand a feature of primitive mentality that we have already noted.

We have seen¹¹⁰³ the facility with which the primitive confuses kingdoms and identifies the most heterogeneous things, men, animals, plants, stars, etc. Now we see one of the causes which has contributed the most to facilitating these confusions. Since religious forces are eminently contagious, it is constantly happening that the same principle animates very different objects equally; it passes from some into others as the result of either a simple material proximity or of even a superficial similarity. It is thus that men, animals, plants and rocks come to have the same totem: the men because they bear the name of the animal: the animals because they bring the totemic emblem to mind; the plants because they nourish these animals; the rocks because they mark the place where the ceremonies are celebrated. Now religious forces are therefore considered the source of all efficacy; so beings having one single religious principle ought to pass as having the same essence, and as differing from one another only in secondary characteristics. This is why it seemed quite natural to arrange them in a single category and to regard them as mere varieties of the same class, transmutable into one another.

We have seen¹¹⁰³ how easily primitive people confuse categories and identify very different things with one another: people, animals, plants, stars, and so on. Now we see one of the main causes of these confusions. Religious forces spread very easily, so the same principle often animates very different objects. It passes from one object to another through simple physical closeness or even a superficial similarity. In this way, people, animals, plants, and rocks come to share the same totem. People share it because they bear the animal’s name, and animals because they bring the totemic emblem to mind. Plants share it because they nourish these animals, and rocks because they mark the place where ceremonies are held. Religious forces are considered the source of all power to produce effects. So beings that share a single religious principle must be seen as having the same essence, differing only in secondary characteristics. That is why it seemed quite natural to place them in a single category. They were regarded as mere varieties of the same class, capable of changing into one another.

When this relation has been established, it makes the phenomena of contagion appear under a new aspect. Taken by themselves, they seem to be quite foreign to the logical life. Is their effect not to mix and confuse beings, in spite of their natural differences? But we have seen that these confusions and participation have played a rôle of the highest utility in logic; they have served to bind together things which sensation leaves apart from one another. So it is far from true that contagion, the source of these connections and confusions, is marked with that fundamental irrationality that one is inclined to attribute it at first. It has opened the way for the scientific explanations of the future.

Once this relationship is established, it casts the phenomena of contagion in a new light. Taken on their own, these phenomena seem completely unrelated to logical thought. Do they not mix and confuse beings despite their natural differences? But we have seen that these confusions and forms of participation have been extremely useful in logic. They have linked things that our senses leave separate. So contagion, the source of these connections and confusions, is far from being fundamentally irrational, as one might initially think. It has opened the way for future scientific explanations.