Totemic Beliefs: The Totem as Name and Symbol

Chapter 1

Totemic Beliefs: The Totem as Name and Symbol

36 min

Owing to its nature, our study will include two parts. Since every religion is made up of intellectual conceptions and ritual practices, we must deal successively with the beliefs and rites which compose the totemic religion. These two elements of the religious life are too closely connected with each other to allow of any radical separation. In principle, the cult is derived from the beliefs, yet it reacts upon them; the myth is frequently modelled after the rite in order to account for it, especially when its sense is no longer apparent. On the other hand, there are beliefs which are clearly manifested only through the rites which express them. So these two parts of our analysis cannot fail to overlap. However, these two orders of facts are so different that it is indispensable to study them separately. And since it is impossible to understand anything about a religion while unacquainted with the ideas upon which it rests, we must seek to become acquainted with these latter first of all.

Our study will have two parts. Every religion consists of beliefs and ritual practices, so we must examine the beliefs and rites of totemic religion in turn. These two elements of religious life are too closely connected to be completely separated. In principle, religious practice derives from beliefs, but it also influences them. Myths are often shaped by rites to explain them, especially when the meaning of the rites is no longer clear. On the other hand, some beliefs become clear only through the rites that express them. So the two parts of our analysis will inevitably overlap. Still, beliefs and rites are different enough that we must study them separately. And we cannot understand anything about a religion without knowing the ideas on which it rests. So we must first examine those ideas.

But it is not our intention to retrace all the speculations into which the religious thought, even of the Australians alone, has run. The things we wish to reach are the elementary notions at the basis of the religion, but there is no need of following them through all the development, sometimes very confused, which the mythological imagination of these peoples has given them. We shall make use of myths when they enable us to understand these fundamental ideas better, but we shall not make mythology itself the subject of our studies. In so far as this is a work of art, it does not fall within the jurisdiction of the simple science of religions. Also, the intellectual evolution from which it results is of too great a complexity to be studied indirectly and from a foreign point of view. It constitutes a very difficult problem which must be treated by itself, for itself and with a method peculiar to itself.

But we do not intend to trace all the ideas that religious thought has produced, even among the Australians alone. We want to reach the basic ideas underlying the religion. But we do not need to follow all their development, sometimes very confused, in these peoples’ mythological imagination. We will use myths when they help us better understand these basic ideas. But mythology itself will not be the subject of our study. To the extent that mythology is a work of art, it falls outside the scope of the science of religion alone. Also, the intellectual development that produces mythology is too complex to be studied indirectly or from an outside point of view. It is a very difficult problem that must be studied on its own, for its own sake, and with a method suited to it.

Among the beliefs upon which totemism rests, the most important are naturally those concerning the totem; it is with these that we must begin.

Of the beliefs on which totemism rests, the most important are naturally those about the totem. We must begin with these beliefs.

I

I

At the basis of nearly all the Australian tribes we find a group which holds a preponderating place in the collective life: this is the clan. Two essential traits characterize it.

At the foundation of nearly all Australian tribes is a group that plays a dominant role in collective life: the clan. Two essential features characterize the clan.

In the first place, the individuals who compose it consider themselves united by a bond of kinship, but one which is of a very special nature. This relationship does not come from the fact that they have definite blood connections with one another; they are relatives from the mere fact that they have the same name. They are not fathers and mothers, sons or daughters, uncles or nephews of one another in the sense which we now give these words; yet they think of themselves as forming a single family, which is large or small according to the dimensions of the clan, merely because they are collectively designated by the same word. When we say that they regard themselves as a single family, we do so because they recognize duties towards each other which are identical with those which have always been incumbent upon kindred: such duties as aid, vengeance, mourning, the obligation not to marry among themselves, etc.

First, the members of a clan consider themselves bound by kinship, but of a very special kind. This kinship does not come from definite blood ties between them. They are relatives simply because they share the same name. They are not one another’s parents, children, uncles, or nephews in the modern sense of those words. Yet they see themselves as a single family simply because they are all known by the same name. The family is large or small depending on the size of the clan. We say they see themselves as a single family because they recognize duties toward one another identical to those that have always bound relatives. These include helping and avenging one another, mourning one another, and not marrying within the clan.

By this first characteristic, the clan does not differ from the Roman gens or the Greek γένος; for this relationship also came merely from the fact that all the members of the gens had the same name, the nomen gentilicium. And in one sense, the gens is a clan; but it is a variety which should not be confounded with the Australian clan. This latter is distinguished by the fact that its name is also the name of a determined species of material things with which it believes that it has very particular relations, the nature of which we shall presently describe; they are especially relations of kinship. The species of things which serves to designate the clan collectively is called its totem. The totem of the clan is also that of each of its members.

In this first respect, the clan is no different from the Roman gens or the Greek γένος. In the gens too, the relationship came simply from all members sharing the same name, the nomen gentilicium. In one sense, the gens is a clan. But it is a type of clan that should not be confused with the Australian clan. The Australian clan is distinct because its name is also the name of a particular species of material things. The clan believes it has a special relationship with that species. We will soon describe the nature of this relationship. It is above all a relationship of kinship. The species of things that gives the clan its collective name is called its totem. The clan's totem is also the totem of each of its members.

Cicero defines it this way: Gentiles sunt qui inter se eodem nomine sunt (Top. 6). (People belong to the same gens if they share the same name.)

In general, a clan may be described as a family group whose members are related solely through a shared name. In this sense, the gens is a clan. But the totemic clan is a particular kind of clan.

Each clan has its totem, which belongs to it alone; two different clans of the same tribe cannot have the same. In fact, one is a member of a clan merely because he has a certain name. All who bear this name are members of it for that very reason; in whatever manner they may be spread over the tribal territory, they all have the same relations of kinship with one another. Consequently, two groups having the same totem can only be two sections of the same clan. Undoubtedly, it frequently happens that all of a clan does not reside in the same locality, but has representatives in several different places. However, this lack of a geographical basis does not cause its unity to be the less keenly felt.

Each clan has its own totem. Two different clans in the same tribe cannot have the same totem. In fact, a person belongs to a clan simply because they have a certain name. Everyone who bears that name belongs to the clan for that reason. Wherever they are spread across the tribe’s territory, they all have the same kinship ties to one another. So two groups with the same totem can only be two sections of the same clan. Often, not all members of a clan live in the same place. Instead, some live in several different places. Even so, the clan’s unity is no less keenly felt because it lacks a common geographical base.

In a sense, these bonds of solidarity extend beyond tribal boundaries. People from different tribes who share the same totem have special duties toward one another. This is explicitly stated for certain North American tribes (see Frazer, Totemism and Exogamy, III, pp. 57, 81, 299, 356-357). The texts about Australia are less explicit. However, the ban on marriage between members of the same totem probably extends across tribal boundaries.

In regard to the word totem, we may say that it is the one employed by the Ojibway, an Algonquin tribe, to designate the sort of thing whose name the clan bears. Although this expression is not at all Australian, and is found only in one single society in America, ethnographers have definitely adopted it, and use it to denote, in a general way, the system which we are describing. Schoolcraft was the first to extend the meaning of the word thus and to speak of a "totemic system." This extension, of which there are examples enough in ethnography, is not without inconveniences. It is not normal for an institution of this importance to bear a chance name, taken from a strictly local dialect, and bringing to mind none of the distinctive characteristics of the thing it designates. But to-day this way of employing the word is so universally accepted that it would be an excess of purism to rise against this usage.

The Ojibway, an Algonquin tribe, use the word totem for the kind of thing after which a clan is named. The word is not Australian at all. It is also found in only one society in America. Even so, ethnographers have firmly adopted it as a general term for the system we are describing. Schoolcraft was the first to extend the word’s meaning in this way and speak of a "totemic system." Such extensions are common enough in ethnography, but they have drawbacks. It is odd for an institution of this importance to have a chance name taken from a strictly local dialect. The name also calls to mind none of the distinctive features of the institution. But this use of the word is now so universally accepted that objecting to it would be excessively purist.

Morgan, Ancient Society, p. 165.

In Australia, the words used differ among tribes. In the regions observed by Grey, people said Kobong. The Dieri say Murdu (Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 91). The Narrinyeri say Ngaitye (Talpin, in Curr, II, p. 244). The Warramunga say Mungái or Mungáii (Nor. Tr., p. 754), etc.

Indian Tribes of the United States, IV, p. 86.

The word’s widespread use is all the more regrettable because we do not even know exactly how to spell it. Some write totam, others toodaim, or dodaim, or ododam (see Frazer, Totemism, p. 1). Nor is the word’s exact meaning established. According to J. Long, the first observer of the Ojibway, totam meant the protecting spirit, or individual totem. We shall discuss the individual totem below (Bk. II, ch. iv). It did not mean the clan totem. But other explorers’ accounts say exactly the opposite (on this point, see Frazer, Totemism and Exogamy, III, pp. 49-52).

In a very large proportion of the cases, the objects which serve as totems belong either to the animal or the vegetable kingdom, but especially to the former. Inanimate things are much more rarely employed. Out of more than 500 totemic names collected by Howitt among the tribes of south-eastern Australia, there are scarcely forty which are not the names of plants or animals; these are the clouds, rain, hail, frost, the moon, the sun, the wind, the autumn, the summer, the winter, certain stars, thunder, fire, smoke, water or the sea. It is noticeable how small a place is given to celestial bodies and, more generally, to the great cosmic phenomena, which were destined to so great a fortune in later religious development. Among all the clans of which Howitt speaks, there were only two which had the moon as totem, two the sun, three a star, three the thunder, two the lightning. The rain is a single exception; it, on the contrary, is very frequent.

In most cases, totems are animals or plants, especially animals. Inanimate things are used much less often. Howitt collected more than 500 totemic names among the tribes of south-eastern Australia. Fewer than forty were not names of plants or animals. These included clouds, rain, hail, frost, the moon, the sun, the wind, autumn, summer, winter, certain stars, thunder, fire, smoke, water and the sea. It is striking how few totems are celestial bodies or other major cosmic phenomena. These would later become very important in religious development. Among all the clans Howitt describes, only two had the moon as a totem, two the sun, three a star, three thunder, and two lightning. Rain is the one exception. Rain totems, by contrast, are very common.

The Wotjobaluk (p. 121) and the Buandik (p. 123).

The same.

The Wolgal (p. 102), the Wotjobaluk and the Buandik.

The Muruburra (p. 117), the Wotjobaluk and the Buandik.

The Buandik and the Kaiabara (p. 116). Note that all the examples come from only five tribes.

Spencer and Gillen collected 204 kinds of totems from many tribes. Of these, 188 are animals or plants. The inanimate objects are the boomerang, cold weather, darkness, fire, lightning, the moon, red ochre, resin, salt water, the evening star, a stone, the sun, water, the whirlwind, the wind and hail-stones (Nor. Tr., p. 773. Cf. Frazer, Totemism and Exogamy, I, pp. 253-254).

These are the totems which can be spoken of as normal. But totemism has its abnormalities as well. It sometimes happens that the totem is not a whole object, but the part of an object. This fact appears rather rarely in Australia; Howitt cites only one example. However, it may well be that this is found with a certain frequency in the tribes where the totemic groups are excessively subdivided; it might be said that the totems had to break themselves up in order to be able to furnish names to these numerous divisions. This is what seems to have taken place among the Arunta and the Loritja. Strehlow has collected 442 totems in these two societies, of which many are not an animal species, but some particular organ of the animal of the species, such as the tail or stomach of an opossum, the fat of the kangaroo, etc.

These are the totems that can be called normal. But totemism has its abnormalities too. Sometimes a totem is not a whole object, but part of one. This is fairly rare in Australia. Howitt cites only one example. However, partial totems may be fairly common in tribes whose totemic groups are divided into many smaller groups. One might say that the totems had to break themselves up to provide names for all these divisions. This seems to have happened among the Arunta and the Loritja. Strehlow collected 442 totems from these two societies. Many are not animal species, but particular parts of animals, such as an opossum’s tail or stomach, or kangaroo fat.

Frazer (Totemism, pp. 10 and 13) cites many cases and places them in a special group he calls split-totems. But these cases come from tribes where totemism has changed greatly, such as those in Samoa or Bengal.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 107.

See the tables collected by Strehlow, op. cit., II, pp. 61-72 (cf. III, pp. xiii-xvii). Notably, these fragmentary totems are taken exclusively from animal totems.

We have seen that normally the totem is not an individual, but a species or a variety: it is not such and such a kangaroo or crow, but the kangaroo or crow in general. Sometimes, however, it is a particular object. First of all, this is necessarily the case when the thing serving as totem is unique in its class, as the sun, the moon, such or such a constellation, etc. It also happens that clans take their names from certain geographical irregularities or depressions of the land, from a certain ant-hill, etc. It is true that we have only a small number of examples of this in Australia; but Strehlow does mention some. But the very causes which have given rise to these abnormal totems show that they are of a relatively recent origin. In fact, what has made certain geographical features of the land become totems is that a mythical ancestor is supposed to have stopped there or to have performed some act of his legendary life there. But at the same time, these ancestors are represented in the myths as themselves belonging to clans which had perfectly regular totems, that is to say, ones taken from the animal or vegetable kingdoms. Therefore, the totemic names thus commemorating the acts and performances of these heroes cannot be primitive; they belong to a form of totemism that is already derived and deviated. It is even permissible to ask if the meteorological totems have not a similar origin; for the sun, the moon and the stars are frequently identified with the ancestors of the mythological epoch.

We have seen that a totem is normally not an individual, but a species or variety. It is not a particular kangaroo or crow, but the kangaroo or crow in general. Sometimes, however, a totem is a particular object. This must be the case when the thing serving as a totem is unique, such as the sun, the moon, or a particular constellation. Clans also sometimes take their names from particular features or hollows in the landscape, or from a particular ant-hill. We have only a few examples of this in Australia, but Strehlow does mention some. The very causes of these unusual totems show that they are relatively recent. Certain features of the landscape became totems because a mythical ancestor is believed to have stopped or performed some legendary act there. At the same time, myths describe these ancestors as belonging to clans with entirely regular totems, taken from the animal or plant kingdoms. So the totemic names that commemorate these heroes’ acts cannot be primitive. They belong to a form of totemism that has already developed and changed from its original form. We may even ask whether meteorological totems have a similar origin. The sun, the moon, and the stars are often identified with ancestors from the mythological era.

Strehlow, II, pp. 52 and 72.

For example, one of these totems is a cave where an ancestor of the Wild Cat totem rested. Another is an underground passage dug by an ancestor of the Mouse clan, and so on. (ibid., p. 72).

Nat. Tr., pp. 561 ff. Strehlow, II, p. 71, note 2. Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 426 ff.; On Australian Medicine Men, J.A.I., XVI, p. 53; Further Notes on the Australian Class Systems, J.A.I., XVIII, pp. 63 ff.

Sometimes, but no less exceptionally, it is an ancestor or a group of ancestors which serves as totem directly. In this case, the clan takes its name, not from a thing or a species of real things, but from a purely mythical being. Spencer and Gillen had already mentioned two or three totems of this sort. Among the Warramunga and among the Tjingilli there are clans which bear the name of an ancestor named Thaballa who seems to be gaiety incarnate. Another Warramunga clan bears the name of a huge fabulous serpent named Wollunqua, from which the clan considers itself descended. We owe other similar facts to Strehlow. In any case, it is easy enough to see what probably took place. Under the influence of diverse causes and by the very development of mythological thought, the collective and impersonal totem became effaced before certain mythical personages who advanced to the first rank and became totems themselves.

Sometimes an ancestor or a group of ancestors serves directly as a totem, though this is just as exceptional. In such cases, the clan takes its name from a purely mythical being, not from a real thing or species. Spencer and Gillen had already mentioned two or three totems of this kind. Among the Warramunga and the Tjingilli, some clans bear the name of an ancestor called Thaballa. He seems to be gaiety in human form. Another Warramunga clan bears the name of a huge mythical serpent called Wollunqua, from whom the clan considers itself descended. Strehlow provided other similar examples. In any case, it is easy enough to see what probably happened. Various causes, along with the development of mythological thought itself, led the collective, impersonal totem to fade into the background. Certain mythical figures came to the forefront and became totems themselves.

According to Spencer and Gillen’s translation, Thaballa means "laughing boy." Members of the clan named after him believe they hear him laughing in the rocks where he lives (Nor. Tr., pp. 207, 215, 226 note). According to a myth on p. 422, there was an original group of mythical Thaballa (cf. p. 208). The Kati clan, whose name means "full-grown men," according to Spencer and Gillen, seems to be of the same kind (Nor. Tr., p. 207).

Nor. Tr., pp. 226 ff.

Strehlow, II, pp. 71 f. He mentions a Loritja and Arunta totem very similar to the serpent Wollunqua. It is the totem of a mythical water-snake.

Howsoever interesting these different irregularities may be, they contain nothing which forces us to modify our definition of a totem. They are not, as has sometimes been believed, different varieties of totems which are more or less irreducible into each other or into the normal totem, such as we have defined it. They are merely secondary and sometimes even aberrant forms of a single notion which is much more general, and there is every ground for believing it the more primitive.

However interesting these different irregularities may be, none of them forces us to change our definition of a totem. As some have believed, they are not different varieties of totems that cannot easily be reduced to one another or to the normal totem we have defined. They are merely secondary forms of a single, much more general notion. Some are even deviations from it. There is every reason to believe that this more general notion is also the more primitive one.

This is the case with Klaatsch in the article cited earlier (see above, p. 92, n. 3).

The manner in which the name is acquired is more important for the organization and recruiting of the clan than for religion; it belongs to the sociology of the family rather than to religious sociology. So we shall confine ourselves to indicating summarily the most essential principles which regulate the matter.

How the name is acquired matters more for the clan’s organization and recruitment than for religion. It belongs to the sociology of the family rather than to the sociology of religion. So we will briefly outline only the most essential principles governing how the name is acquired.

As we noted in the previous chapter, totemism is relevant to the study of both religion and the family, because the clan is a family. In less developed societies, these two subjects are closely connected. But both are so complex that they must be treated separately. Also, early family organization cannot be understood without first understanding early religious beliefs, because those beliefs form its foundation. That is why we must study totemism as a religion before studying the totemic clan as a family group.

In the different tribes, three different systems are in use.

Different tribes use three different systems.

In a great number, or it might even be said, in the greater number of the societies, the child takes the totem of its mother, by right of birth: this is what happens among the Dieri and the Urabunna of the centre of Southern Australia; the Wotjobaluk and the Gournditch-Mara of Victoria; the Kamilaroi, the Wiradjuri, the Wonghibon and the Euahlayi of New South Wales; and the Wakelbura, the Pitta-Pitta and the Kurnandaburi of Queensland, to mention only the most important names. In this case, owing to a law of exogamy, the mother is necessarily of a different totem from her husband, and on the other hand, as she lives in his community, the members of a single totem are necessarily dispersed in different localities according to the chances of their marriages. As a result, the totemic group lacks a territorial base.

In many societies, perhaps even most, a child inherits its mother’s totem at birth. This happens among the Dieri and the Urabunna of central Southern Australia. It also happens among the Wotjobaluk and the Gournditch-Mara of Victoria, and the Kamilaroi, the Wiradjuri, the Wonghibon and the Euahlayi of New South Wales. In Queensland, it happens among the Wakelbura, the Pitta-Pitta and the Kurnandaburi. These are only the most important names. In such societies, a law of exogamy requires the mother to have a different totem from her husband. She also lives in his community. So members of a single totem are scattered across different places, depending on whom they marry. As a result, the totemic group has no territorial base.

Elsewhere the totem is transmitted in the paternal line. In this case, if the child remains with his father, the local group is largely made up of people belonging to a single totem; only the married women there represent foreign totems. In other words, each locality has its particular totem. Up until recent times, this scheme of organization was found in Australia only among the tribes where totemism was in decadence, such as the Narrinyeri, where the totem has almost no religious character at all any more. It was therefore possible to believe that there was a close connection between the totemic system and descent in the uterine line. But Spencer and Gillen have observed, in the northern part of central Australia, a whole group of tribes where the totemic religion is still practised but where the transmission of the totem is in the paternal line: these are the Warramunga, the Quanji, the Umbia, the Binbinga, the Mara and the Anula.

Elsewhere, the totem is passed down through the father’s line. If a child stays with his father, most people in the local group belong to a single totem. Only the married women belong to other totems. In other words, each locality has its own totem. Until recently, this form of organization had been found in Australia only among tribes where totemism was in decline. One example was the Narrinyeri, among whom the totem had almost no religious character left. It was therefore possible to believe that the totemic system was closely connected with descent through the mother’s line. But Spencer and Gillen observed a whole group of tribes in the northern part of central Australia where totems are passed down through the father’s line, yet the totemic religion is still practised. These tribes are the Warramunga, the Quanji, the Umbia, the Binbinga, the Mara and the Anula.

See Taplin, The Narrinyeri Tribe, in Curr, II, pp. 244 f.; Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 131.

Nor. Tr., pp. 163, 169, 170, 172. In all these tribes except the Mara and the Anula, totems generally pass through the father's line, but there are exceptions.

Finally, a third combination is the one observed among the Arunta and Loritja. Here the totem of the child is not necessarily either that of the mother or that of the father; it is that of a mythical ancestor who came, by processes which the observers recount in different ways, and mysteriously fecundated the mother at the moment of conception. A special process makes it possible to learn which ancestor it was and to which totemic group he belonged. But since it was only chance which determined that this ancestor happened to be near the mother, rather than another, the totem of the child is thus found to depend finally upon fortuitous circumstances.

Finally, a third arrangement is found among the Arunta and Loritja. Here, a child’s totem is not necessarily the mother’s or the father’s. Instead, it is the totem of a mythical ancestor who mysteriously made the mother pregnant at conception. Observers give different accounts of how this happened. A special process identifies the ancestor and the totemic group to which he belonged. But chance alone determined that this ancestor, rather than another, happened to be near the mother. So the child’s totem ultimately depends on chance circumstances.

According to Spencer and Gillen (Nat. Tr., pp. 123 ff.), the ancestor’s soul is reincarnated in the mother’s body and becomes the child’s soul. According to Strehlow (II, pp. 51 ff.), the ancestor causes conception, but no reincarnation takes place. In neither interpretation, however, does the child’s totem necessarily depend on the parents’ totems.

Nat. Tr., p. 133; Strehlow, II, p. 53.

The place where a mother believes she conceived largely determines her child's totem. As we shall see, each totem has a center. Ancestors prefer to frequent the places that serve as centers for their respective totems. The child's totem is therefore the one associated with the place where the mother believes she conceived. This place should generally be near the center of her husband's totem, so the child should generally share the father's totem. This undoubtedly explains why most inhabitants of a given place belong to the same totem (Nat. Tr., p. 9).

Outside of and above the totems of clans there are totems of phratries which, though not differing from the former in nature, must none the less be distinguished from them.

Beyond and above clan totems are phratry totems. Although phratry totems are not different in nature from clan totems, they must still be distinguished from them.

A phratry is a group of clans which are united to each other by particular bonds of fraternity. Ordinarily the Australian tribe is divided into two phratries between which the different clans are distributed. Of course there are some tribes where this organization has disappeared, but everything leads us to believe that it was once general. In any case, there are no tribes in Australia where the number of phratries is greater than two.

A phratry is a group of clans united by special bonds of brotherhood. An Australian tribe is usually divided into two phratries, with each clan belonging to one of them. Of course, some tribes no longer have this organization, but everything suggests that it was once universal. In any case, no tribe in Australia has more than two phratries.

Now in nearly all the cases where the phratries have a name whose meaning has been established, this name is that of an animal; it would therefore seem that it is a totem. This has been well demonstrated in a recent work by A. Lang. Thus, among the Gournditch (Victoria), the phratries are called Krokitch and Kaputch; the former of the words designates the white cockatoo and the latter the black cockatoo. The same expressions are found again among the Buandik and the Wotjobaluk. Among the Wurunjerri, the names employed are Bunjil and Waang, which designate the eagle-hawk and the crow. The words Mukwara and Kilpara are used for the same purpose in a large number of tribes of New South Wales; they designate the same birds. It is also the eagle-hawk and the crow which have given their names to the two phratries of the Ngarigo and the Wolgal. Among the Kuinmurbura, it is the white cockatoo and the crow. Many other examples might be cited. Thus we are led to regard the phratry as an ancient clan which has been dismembered; the actual clans are the product of this dismemberment, and the solidarity which unites them is a souvenir of their primitive unity. It is true that in certain tribes, the phratries no longer have special names, as it seems; in others where these names exist, their meaning is no longer known, even to the members. But there is nothing surprising in this. The phratries are certainly a primitive institution, for they are everywhere in a state of regression; their descendants the clans have passed to the first rank. So it is but natural that the names which they bore should have been effaced from memory little by little, when they were no longer understood; for they must belong to a very archaic language no longer in use. This is proved by the fact that in many cases where we know the animal whose name the phratry bears, the word designating this animal in the current language is very different from the one employed here.

In nearly all cases where the meaning of a phratry’s name has been established, the name is that of an animal. It would therefore seem to be a totem. A. Lang has demonstrated this convincingly in a recent work. Among the Gournditch (Victoria), for example, the phratries are called Krokitch and Kaputch. The first name means the white cockatoo, and the second means the black cockatoo. The same names are found among the Buandik and the Wotjobaluk. Among the Wurunjerri, the names are Bunjil and Waang, meaning the eagle-hawk and the crow. Many tribes in New South Wales use the names Mukwara and Kilpara for their phratries. These names refer to the same birds. The eagle-hawk and the crow also give their names to the two phratries of the Ngarigo and the Wolgal. Among the Kuinmurbura, the names refer to the white cockatoo and the crow. Many other examples could be given. These examples lead us to regard the phratry as an ancient clan that has split apart. The present-day clans are the product of this division. The solidarity that unites them is a reminder of their original unity. It is true that in certain tribes, the phratries apparently no longer have distinct names. In others, the names exist, but even the members no longer know what they mean. But this is not surprising. Phratries are certainly an early institution, since they are everywhere in decline. The clans that developed from them have become more important. So it is natural that the old names should gradually have faded from memory once they were no longer understood. They must belong to a very old language that is no longer used. This is shown by many cases where we know the animal after which a phratry is named. In those cases, the current word for the animal is very different from the one used in the phratry’s name.

The Secret of the Totem, pp. 159 ff. See also Fison and Howitt, Kamilaroi and Kurnai, pp. 40 f. John Mathews, Eaglehawk and Crow. Thomas, Kinship and Marriage in Australia, pp. 52 ff.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 124.

Howitt, pp. 121, 123, 124; Curr, III, p. 461.

Howitt, p. 126.

Howitt, pp. 98 ff.

Curr, II, p. 165. Brough Smyth, I, p. 423. Howitt, op. cit., p. 429.

Howitt, pp. 101, 102.

J. Mathews, Two Representative Tribes of Queensland, p. 139.

Other reasons could support this hypothesis, but they would require us to discuss family organization. We want to keep these two studies separate. Also, this question is only of secondary importance to our subject.

For example, Mukwara is the name of a phratry among the Barkinji, the Paruinji and the Milpulko. According to Brough Smyth, Mukwara means eagle-hawk. One clan of this phratry has the eagle-hawk as its totem. But the clan calls the animal Bilyara. Lang cites many similar cases, op. cit., p. 162.

Between the totem of the phratry and the totems of the clans there exists a sort of relation of subordination. In fact, in principle each clan belongs to one and only one phratry; it is very exceptional that it has representatives in the other phratry. This is not met with at all except among certain central tribes, notably the Arunta; also even where, owing to disturbing influences, overlappings of this sort have taken place, the great part of the clan is included entirely within one or the other of the two groups of the tribe; only a small minority is to be found in the other one. As a rule then, the two phratries do not overlap each other; consequently, the list of totems which an individual may have is predetermined by the phratry to which he belongs. In other words, the phratry is like a species of which the clans are varieties. We shall presently see that this comparison is not purely metaphorical.

There is a kind of subordinate relationship between the totems of the clans and the totem of the phratry. In principle, each clan belongs to one phratry only. It is very rare for a clan to have members in the other phratry. This happens only among certain central tribes, notably the Arunta. Even where disruptive influences have caused such overlaps, most of the clan belongs entirely to one of the tribe’s two groups. Only a small minority belongs to the other group. As a rule, then, the two phratries do not overlap. As a result, the phratry a person belongs to determines the totems that person may have. In other words, the phratry is like a species, and the clans are its varieties. We shall soon see that this comparison is not purely metaphorical.

Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., p. 115. According to Howitt (op. cit., pp. 121 and 454), the pelican clan appears in both Wotjobaluk phratries equally. We doubt this claim. It is quite possible that the two clans have different varieties of pelicans as their totems. Information from Mathews on the same tribe seems to support this possibility (Aboriginal Tribes of N.S. Wales and Victoria, in Journal and Proceedings of the Royal Society of N.S. Wales, 1904, pp. 287 f.).

On this question, see our article on Le Totémisme in the Année Sociologique, Vol. V, pp. 82 ff.

In addition to the phratries and clans, another secondary group is frequently met with in Australian societies, which is not without a certain individuality: these are the matrimonial classes.

Besides phratries and clans, Australian societies often have another secondary group with its own distinct identity: matrimonial classes.

By this name they designate certain subdivisions of the phratry, whose number varies with the tribe: there are sometimes two and sometimes four per phratry. Their recruiting and operation are regulated by the two following principles. In the first place, each generation in a phratry belongs to different clans from the immediately preceding one. Thus, when there are only two classes per phratry, they necessarily alternate with each other every generation. The children make up the class of which their parents are not members; but grandchildren are of the same class as their grandparents. Thus, among the Kamilaroi, the Kupathin phratry has two classes, Ippai and Kumbo; the Dilby phratry, two others which are called Murri and Kubbi. As descent is in the uterine line, the child is in the phratry of its mother; if she is a Kupathin, the child will be one also. But if she is of the Ippai class, he will be a Kumbo; if the child is a girl, her children will again be in the Ippai class.

They use this name for certain subdivisions of the phratry. Their number varies by tribe. There are sometimes two and sometimes four per phratry. Two principles govern how people become members and how these subdivisions operate. First, each generation in a phratry belongs to different clans from the generation immediately before it. So, when there are only two classes per phratry, they necessarily alternate with each generation. Children belong to the class their parents do not belong to. But grandchildren belong to the same class as their grandparents. For example, among the Kamilaroi, the Kupathin phratry has two classes, Ippai and Kumbo. The Dilby phratry has two others, called Murri and Kubbi. Because descent is traced through the mother, a child belongs to the mother’s phratry. If she is a Kupathin, the child will be one too. But if she belongs to the Ippai class, her child will be a Kumbo. If the child is a girl, her children will again belong to the Ippai class.

For Australian matrimonial classes in general, see our memoir La Prohibition de l'inceste, in the Année Soc., I, pp. 9 ff. For tribes with eight classes in particular, see L'Organisation matrimoniale des societés Australiennes, in Année Soc., VIII, pp. 118-147.

Likewise, the children of the women of the Murri class will be in the Kubbi class, and the children of the Kubbi women will be Murri again. When there are four classes per phratry, instead of two, the system is naturally more complex, but the principle is the same. The four classes form two couples of two classes each, and these two classes alternate with each other every generation in the manner just indicated. Secondly, the members of one class can in principle marry into only one of the classes of the other phratry. The Ippai must marry into the Kubbi class and the Murri into the Kumbo class. It is because this organization profoundly affects matrimonial relations that we give the group the name of matrimonial class.

Likewise, the children of Murri women belong to the Kubbi class, and the children of Kubbi women are Murri again. When each phratry has four classes instead of two, the system is naturally more complex, but the principle is the same. The four classes form two pairs. The two classes in each pair alternate with each other in each generation, as described above. Secondly, members of one class can, in principle, marry into only one class of the other phratry. The Ippai must marry into the Kubbi class, and the Murri into the Kumbo class. Because this organization has a profound effect on marriage, we call the group a matrimonial class.

This principle is not enforced equally strictly everywhere. In the central tribes with eight classes, for example, marriage is normally permitted with one class. A kind of secondary concubinage is also permitted with another class (Spencer and Gillen, Nor. Tr., p. 106). The same is true of certain tribes with four classes. Each class can choose between the two classes of the other phratry. This is the case with the Kabi (see Mathews, in Curr, III, 162).

Now it may be asked whether these classes do not sometimes have totems like the phratries and clans.

We may now ask whether these classes sometimes have totems, like the phratries and clans.

This question is raised by the fact that in certain tribes of Queensland, each matrimonial class has dietetic restrictions that are peculiar to it. The individuals who compose it must abstain from eating the flesh of certain animals which the others may consume freely. Are these animals not totems?

This question arises because each matrimonial class in certain Queensland tribes has its own dietary restrictions. Members of each class must not eat the flesh of certain animals that others may eat freely. Are these animals not totems?

See Roth, Ethnological Studies among the North-West-Central Queensland Aborigines, pp. 56 ff. See also Palmer, Notes on some Australian Tribes, J.A.I., XIII (1884), pp. 302 ff.

But dietetic restrictions are not the characteristic marks of totemism. The totem is a name first of all, and then, as we shall see, an emblem. Now in the societies of which we just spoke, there are no matrimonial classes which bear the name of an animal or plant, or which have an emblem. Of course it is possible that these restrictions are indirectly derived from totemism. It might be supposed that the animals which these interdictions protect were once the totems of clans which have since disappeared, while the matrimonial classes remained. It is certain that they have a force of endurance which the clans do not have. Then these interdictions, deprived of their original field, may have spread themselves out over the entire class, since there were no other groups to which they could be attached. But it is clear that if this regulation was born of totemism, it represents only an enfeebled and denatured form of it.

But dietary restrictions are not the defining features of totemism. A totem is first of all a name and then, as we shall see, an emblem. In the societies we have just discussed, no matrimonial classes bear the name of an animal or plant, or have an emblem. Of course, these restrictions may be indirectly derived from totemism. The animals protected by these prohibitions may once have been the totems of clans that have since disappeared, while the matrimonial classes remained. The matrimonial classes certainly have a staying power that the clans do not. The prohibitions may then have spread to the entire class, having lost the groups they originally applied to. There were no other groups to which they could be attached. But if this rule arose from totemism, it is clearly only a weakened and distorted form of it.

Nevertheless, some tribes are reported to have matrimonial classes named after animals or plants. These include the Kabi (Mathew, Two Representative Tribes, p. 150), the tribes observed by Mrs. Bates (The Marriage Laws and Customs of the West Australian Aborigines, in Victorian Geographical Journal, XXIII-XXIV, p. 47), and perhaps two tribes observed by Palmer. But such cases are very rare, and their significance is not well established. Nor is it surprising that matrimonial classes, like sexual groups, sometimes take animal names. This exceptional extension of totemic names does not change our understanding of totemism.

Perhaps the same explanation applies to certain other tribes of the South-East and the East. According to Howitt’s informants, these tribes have totems associated specifically with each matrimonial class. This is the case among the Wiradjuri, the Wakelbura and the Bunta-Murra on the Bulloo River (Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 210, 221, 226). However, Howitt himself admits that the evidence collected is suspect. In fact, his lists show that many totems are found in both classes of the same phratry.

All that has been said of the totem in Australian societies is equally applicable to the Indian tribes of North America. The only difference is that among these latter, the totemic organization has a strictness of outline and a stability which are not found in Australia. The Australian clans are not only very numerous, but in a single tribe their number is almost unlimited. Observers cite some of them as examples, but without ever succeeding in giving us a complete list. This is because the list is never definitely terminated. The same process of dismemberment which broke up the original phratries and give birth to clans properly so-called still continues within these latter; as a result of this progressive crumbling, a clan frequently has only a very small effective force. In America, on the contrary, the totemic system has better defined forms. Although the tribes there are considerably larger on the average, the clans are less numerous. A single tribe rarely has more than a dozen of them, and frequently less; each of them is therefore a much more important group. But above all, their number is fixed; they know their exact number, and they it tell to us.

Everything said about the totem in Australian societies also applies to the Indigenous tribes of North America. The only difference is that their totemic organization has a clear structure and stability not found in Australia. Australian clans are very numerous, and a single tribe can have an almost unlimited number of them. Observers cite some clans as examples, but never manage to give a complete list. That is because the list is never final. The original phratries split apart and gave rise to clans proper. The same process of division continues within the clans. As a result of this gradual fragmentation, a clan often has very few members. In America, by contrast, the totemic system has more clearly defined forms. Although the tribes there are considerably larger on average, they have fewer clans. A single tribe rarely has more than a dozen clans, and often has fewer. Each clan is therefore a much more important group. Above all, the number of clans is fixed. Members of a tribe know exactly how many clans they have and tell us the number.

A tribe with only a few hundred members often has fifty or sixty clans, or even many more. On this point, see Durkheim and Mauss, De quelques formes primitives de classification, in the Année Sociologique, Vol. VI, p. 28, n. 1.

Except among the Pueblo Indians of the South-West, where they are more numerous. See Hodge, Pueblo Indian Clans, in American Anthropologist, 1st series, Vol. IX, pp. 345 ff. It is always possible to ask whether the groups with these totems are clans or sub-clans.

See the tables compiled by Morgan, Ancient Society, pp. 153-185.

This difference is due to the superiority of their social economy. From the moment when these tribes were observed for the first time, the social groups were strongly attached to the soil, and consequently better able to resist the decentralizing forces which assailed them. At the same time, the society had too keen a sentiment of its unity to remain unconscious of itself and of the parts out of which it was composed. The example of America thus enables us to explain even better the organization at the base of the clans. We would take a mistaken view, if we judged this only on the present conditions in Australia. In fact, it is in a state of change and dissolution there, which is not at all normal; it is much rather the product of a degeneration which we see, due both to the natural decay of time and the disorganizing effect of the whites. To be sure, it is hardly probable that the Australian clans ever had the dimensions and solid structure of the American ones. But there must have been a time when the distance between them was less considerable than it is to-day, for the American societies would never have succeeded in making so solid a structure if the clans had always been of so fluid and inconsistent a nature.

This difference is due to their superior social organization. When these tribes were first observed, their social groups were firmly attached to the land. They were therefore better able to resist the forces pulling them apart. At the same time, the society had too strong a sense of its unity to be unaware of itself and its parts. The American example thus helps us better understand the organization at the foundation of clans. We would be mistaken to judge that organization solely by present conditions in Australia. There, it is changing and breaking down in a way that is not at all normal. Rather, this is the result of a decline caused both by natural decay over time and by the disruptive effects of white people. Australian clans probably never had the size and solid structure of American clans. But there must have been a time when the difference between them was less considerable than it is today. American societies could never have built such a solid structure if clans had always been so fluid and unstable.

This greater stability has even enabled the archaic system of phratries to maintain itself in America with a clearness and a relief no longer to be found in Australia. We have just seen that in the latter continent the phratry is everywhere in a state of decadence; very frequently it is nothing more than an anonymous group; when it has a name, this is either no longer understood, or in any case, it cannot mean a great deal to the native, since it is borrowed from a foreign language, or from one no longer spoken. Thus we have been able to infer the existence of totems for phratries only from a few survivals, which, for the most part, are so slightly marked that they have escaped the attention of many observers. In certain parts of America, on the contrary, this institution has retained its primitive importance. The tribes of the North-west coast, the Tlinkit and the Haida especially, have now attained a relatively advanced civilization; yet they are divided into two phratries which are subdivided into a certain number of clans: the phratries of the Crow and the Wolf among the Tlinkit, of the Eagle and the Crow among the Haida. And this division is not merely nominal; it corresponds to an ever-existing state of tribal customs and is deeply marked with the tribal life. The moral distance separating the clans is very slight in comparison with that separating the phratries. The name of each is not a word whose sense is forgotten or only vaguely known; it is a totem in the full sense of the term; they have all its essential attributes, such as will be described below. Consequently, upon this point also, American tribes must not be neglected, for we can study the totems of phratries directly there, while Australia offers only obscure vestiges of them.

This greater stability has allowed the ancient system of phratries to survive in America more clearly and distinctly than in Australia. As we have just seen, the phratry is declining everywhere in Australia. Very often, it is nothing more than a group without a name. When it does have a name, the meaning is either no longer understood or cannot mean much to its members. This is because the name comes from a foreign language or one that is no longer spoken. So we have been able to infer that phratries had totems only from a few surviving traces. Most of these traces are so faint that many observers have missed them. In certain parts of America, by contrast, this institution has kept its original importance. The tribes of the North-west coast, especially the Tlinkit and the Haida, have reached a relatively advanced level of civilization. Yet they are divided into two phratries, each of which is divided into several clans. Among the Tlinkit, these are the phratries of the Crow and the Wolf. Among the Haida, they are the phratries of the Eagle and the Crow. This division is not just a matter of names. It reflects customs that still exist and is deeply rooted in tribal life. The moral distance between clans is very slight compared with the distance between phratries. The name of each phratry is not a word whose meaning has been forgotten or is only vaguely known. Each is a totem in the full sense of the term, with all the essential attributes described below. For this reason, too, we must not neglect American tribes. There we can study the totems of phratries directly, while Australia offers only obscure traces of them.

Krause, Die Tlinkit-Indianer, p. 112. Swanton, Social Condition, Beliefs and Linguistic Relationship of the Tlingit Indians, in XXVIth Rep., p. 308.

Swanton, Contributions to the Ethnology of the Haida, p. 62.

“The distinction between the two clans is absolute in every respect,” says Swanton, p. 68. He calls what we call phratries “clans.” Elsewhere, he says the two phratries relate to each other like two foreign nations.

Among the Haida at least, the totems of the actual clans have changed more than those of the phratries. In fact, custom allows a clan to sell or give away the right to bear its totem. As a result, each clan has several totems, some of which it shares with other clans (see Swanton, pp. 107 and 268). Since Swanton calls the phratries clans, he has to call the actual clans family and the ordinary families household. But there is no doubt about what his terms mean.

II

II

But the totem is not merely a name; it is an emblem, a veritable coat-of-arms whose analogies with the arms of heraldry have often been remarked. In speaking of the Australians, Grey says, "each family adopt an animal or vegetable as their crest and sign," and what Grey calls a family is incontestably a clan. Also Fison and Howitt say, "the Australian divisions show that the totem is, in the first place, the badge of a group." Schoolcraft says the same thing about the totems of the Indians of North America. "The totem is in fact a design which corresponds to the heraldic emblems of civilized nations, and each person is authorized to bear it as a proof of the identity of the family to which it belongs. This is proved by the real etymology of the word, which is derived from dodaim, which means village or the residence of a family group." Thus when the Indians entered into relations with the Europeans and contracts were formed between them, it was with its totem that each clan sealed the treaties thus concluded.

But the totem is more than a name. It is an emblem, a true coat of arms. Its similarities to the coats of arms used in heraldry have often been noted. Writing about Australians, Grey says, "each family adopts an animal or plant as its crest and symbol," and what Grey calls a family is unquestionably a clan. Fison and Howitt also say, "The Australian divisions show that the totem is, first of all, the badge of a group." Schoolcraft says the same about the totems of North American Indians. "The totem is in fact a design that corresponds to the heraldic emblems of civilized nations. Each person is entitled to bear it as proof of the identity of the family to which it belongs. This is proved by the word's true etymology. It comes from dodaim, meaning a village or the residence of a family group." Thus, when the Indians established relations with Europeans and made agreements with them, each clan used its totem to seal the resulting treaties.

Journals of two Expeditions in N.W. and W. Australia, II, p. 228.

Kamilaroi and Kurnai, p. 165.

Indian Tribes, I, p. 420. See also I, p. 52. This etymology is very doubtful. See also Handbook of American Indians North of Mexico (Smithsonian Inst. Bur. of Ethnol., Pt. II, s.v., Totem, p. 787).

Schoolcraft, Indian Tribes, III, 184. Garrick Mallery, Picture Writing of the American Indians, in Tenth Report, 1893, p. 377.

The nobles of the feudal period carved, engraved and designed in every way their coats-of-arms upon the walls of their castles, their arms, and every sort of object that belonged to them; the blacks of Australia and the Indians of North America do the same thing with their totems. The Indians who accompanied Samuel Hearne painted their totems on their shields before going into battle. According to Charlevoix, in time of war, certain tribes of Indians had veritable ensigns, made of bits of bark fastened to the end of a pole, upon which the totems were represented. Among the Tlinkit, when a conflict breaks out between two clans, the champions of the two hostile groups wear helmets over their heads, upon which are painted their respective totems. Among the Iroquois, they put the skin of the animal which serves as totem upon each wigwam, as a mark of the clan. According to another observer, the animal was stuffed and set up before the door. Among the Wyandot, each clan has its own ornaments and its distinctive paintings. Among the Omaha, and among the Sioux generally, the totem is painted on the tent.

Feudal nobles carved, engraved, and otherwise displayed their coats of arms on their castle walls, weapons, and all kinds of possessions. Aboriginal Australians and North American Indians do the same with their totems. The Indians who accompanied Samuel Hearne painted their totems on their shields before going into battle. According to Charlevoix, some Indian tribes carried actual banners in wartime. These were made of pieces of bark attached to the end of a pole, with totems depicted on them. Among the Tlinkit, when two clans come into conflict, the champions of each group wear helmets painted with their respective totems. Among the Iroquois, the skin of the animal that serves as a totem is placed on each wigwam as a clan mark. According to another observer, the animal was stuffed and set up in front of the door. Among the Wyandot, each clan has its own ornaments and distinctive paintings. Among the Omaha, and among the Sioux generally, the totem is painted on the tent.

Hearne, Journey to the Northern Ocean, p. 148 (quoted from Frazer, Totemism, p. 30).

Charlevoix, Histoire et description de la Nouvelle France, V, p. 329.

Krause, Tlinkit-Indianer, p. 248.

Erminnie A. Smith, Myths of the Iroquois, in Sec. Rep. of the Bur. of Ethnol., p. 78.

Dodge, Our Wild Indians, p. 225.

Powell, Wyandot Government, in First Rep. of the Bur. of Ethnol., 1881, p. 64.

Dorsey, Omaha Sociology, in Third Rep., pp. 229, 240, 248.

Wherever the society has become sedentary, where the tent is replaced by the house, and where the plastic arts are more fully developed, the totem is engraved upon the woodwork and upon the walls. This is what happens, for example, among the Haida, the Tsimshian, the Salish and the Tlinkit. "A very particular ornament of the house, among the Tlinkit," says Krause, "is the totemic coat-of-arms." Animal forms, sometimes combined with human forms, are engraved upon the posts at the sides of the door of entry, which are as high as 15 yards; they are generally painted with very bright colours. However, these totemic decorations are not very numerous in the Tlinkit village; they are found almost solely before the houses of the chiefs and rich men. They are much more frequent in the neighbouring tribe of the Haida; here there are always several for each house. With its many sculptured posts arising on every hand, sometimes to a great height, a Haida village gives the impression of a sacred city, all bristling with belfries or little minarets. Among the Salish, the totem is frequently represented upon the interior walls of the house. Elsewhere, it is found upon the canoes, the utensils of every sort and the funeral piles.

Wherever a society has settled in one place, houses have replaced tents, and the visual arts are more developed, the totem is carved into woodwork and walls. This happens, for example, among the Haida, the Tsimshian, the Salish and the Tlinkit. “A very distinctive decoration of the house among the Tlinkit,” says Krause, “is the totemic coat of arms.” Animal forms, sometimes combined with human forms, are carved on posts beside the entrance. The posts can be as high as 15 yards and are generally painted in very bright colors. However, these totemic decorations are not very numerous in Tlinkit villages. They are found almost exclusively in front of the houses of chiefs and rich men. They are much more common among the neighboring Haida, where there are always several for each house. A Haida village has carved posts rising on every side, sometimes to a great height. It gives the impression of a sacred city, bristling with bell towers or small minarets. Among the Salish, the totem is often depicted on the interior walls of the house. Elsewhere, it appears on canoes, utensils of every kind and funeral pyres.

Krause, op. cit., pp. 130 f.

Krause, p. 308.

For a photograph of a Haida village, see Swanton, op. cit., Pl. IX. Compare Tylor, Totem Post of the Haida Village of Masset, J.A.I., New Series I, p. 133.

Hill Tout, Report on the Ethnology of the Statlumh of British Columbia, J.A.I., XXXV, p. 155.

Krause, op. cit., p. 230. Swanton, Haida, pp. 129, 135 ff. Schoolcraft, op. cit., I, pp. 52-53, 337, 356. In the latter case, the totem is shown upside down as a sign of mourning. Similar practices are found among the Creek (C. Swan, in Schoolcraft, V, p. 265) and the Delaware (Heckewelder, An Account of the History, Manners and Customs of the Indian Nations who once inhabited Pennsylvania, pp. 246-247).

The preceding examples are taken exclusively from the Indians of North America. This is because sculpture, engravings and permanent figurations are not possible except where the technique of the plastic arts has reached a degree of perfection to which the Australian tribes have not yet attained. Consequently the totemic representations of the sort which we just mentioned are rarer and less apparent in Australia than in America. However, cases of them are cited. Among the Warramunga, at the end of the burial ceremonies, the bones of the dead man are interred, after they have been dried and reduced to powder; beside the place where they are deposited, a figure representing the totem is traced upon the ground. Among the Mara and the Anula, the body is placed in a piece of hollow wood decorated with designs characteristic of the totem. In New South Wales, Oxley found engravings upon the trees near the tomb where a native was buried to which Brough Smyth attributes a totemic character. The natives of the Upper Darling carve totemic images upon their shields. According to Collins, nearly all the utensils are covered with ornaments which probably have the same significance; figures of the same sort are found upon the rocks. These totemic designs may even be more frequent than it seems, for, owing to reasons which will be discussed below, it is not always easy to see what their real meaning is.

The preceding examples all come from the Indians of North America. This is because sculpture, engravings, and permanent images are possible only where the plastic arts have reached a certain level of perfection. The Australian tribes have not yet reached that level. Consequently, the kinds of totemic representations just mentioned are rarer and less visible in Australia than in America. However, examples have been reported. Among the Warramunga, the dead man's bones are dried and ground into powder. At the end of the burial ceremonies, the powdered bones are buried. A figure representing the totem is drawn on the ground beside the burial place. Among the Mara and the Anula, the body is placed in a hollow piece of wood decorated with designs characteristic of the totem. In New South Wales, Oxley found engravings on trees near the tomb where a native was buried. Brough Smyth regards these engravings as totemic. The natives of the Upper Darling carve totemic images on their shields. According to Collins, nearly all their utensils are covered with ornaments that probably have the same significance. Similar figures are found on rocks. These totemic designs may be even more common than they appear. For reasons discussed below, their real meaning is not always easy to recognize.

Spencer and Gillen, Nor. Tr., pp. 168, 537, 540.

Ibid., p. 174.

Brough Smyth, The Aborigines of Victoria, I, p. 99 n.

Brough Smyth, I, p. 284. Strehlow reports a similar fact among the Arunta (III, p. 68).

An Account of the English Colony in N.S. Wales, II, p. 381.

These different facts give us an idea of the considerable place held by the totem in the social life of the primitives. However, up to the present, it has appeared to us as something relatively outside of the man, for it is only upon external things that we have seen it represented. But totemic images are not placed only upon the walls of their houses, the sides of their canoes, their arms, their utensils and their tombs; they are also found on the bodies of the men. They do not put their coat-of-arms merely upon the things which they possess, but they put it upon their persons; they imprint it upon their flesh, it becomes a part of them, and this world of representations is even by far the more important one.

These facts give us an idea of how important the totem is in the social life of primitive peoples. So far, however, the totem has seemed relatively separate from the person. We have seen it represented only on external objects. But totemic images appear not only on house walls, canoe sides, weapons, utensils, and tombs. They also appear on people’s bodies. People put their coat of arms not just on their possessions, but also on themselves. They imprint it on their flesh, and it becomes part of them. These representations on the body are by far the more important.

In fact, it is a very general rule that the members of each clan seek to give themselves the external aspect of their totem. At certain religious festivals among the Tlinkit, the person who is to direct the ceremonies wears a garment which represents, either wholly or in part, the body of the animal whose name he bears. These same usages are also found in all the North-West of America. They are found again among the Minnitaree, when they go into combat, and among the Indians of the Pueblos. Elsewhere, when the totem is a bird, men wear the feathers of this bird on their heads. Among the Iowa, each clan has a special fashion of cutting the hair. In the Eagle clan, two large tufts are arranged on the front of the head, while there is another one behind; in the Buffalo clan, they are arranged in the form of horns. Among the Omaha, analogous arrangements are found: each clan has its own head-dress. In the Turtle clan, for example, the hair is all shaved off, except six bunches, two on each side of the head, one in front, and one behind, in such a way as to imitate the legs, the head and the tail of the animal.

In fact, members of each clan generally try to make themselves look like their totem. At certain religious festivals among the Tlinkit, the ceremony leader wears a garment. It represents all or part of the animal whose name he bears. The same practices are found throughout the North-West of America. They are also found among the Minnitaree when they go into combat, and among the Indians of the Pueblos. Elsewhere, when the totem is a bird, men wear its feathers on their heads. Among the Iowa, each clan has its own way of cutting hair. In the Eagle clan, two large tufts are arranged at the front of the head, and another at the back. In the Buffalo clan, the tufts are arranged to look like horns. The Omaha have similar customs: each clan has its own hairstyle. In the Turtle clan, for example, all the hair is shaved off except for six tufts. Two tufts are left on each side of the head, one in front, and one behind. They are arranged to imitate the turtle’s legs, head, and tail.

Krause, p. 237.

Swanton, Social Condition, Beliefs and Linguistic Relationship of the Tlingit Indians, in XXVIth Rep., pp. 435 ff. Boas, The Social Organization and Secret Societies of the Kwakiutl Indians, p. 358.

Frazer, Totemism, p. 26.

Bourke, The Snake Dance of the Moquis of Arizona, p. 229. J. W. Fewkes, The Group of Tusayan Ceremonials called Katcinas, in XVth Rep., 1897, pp. 151-263.

Müller, Geschichte der Amerikanischen Urreligionen, p. 327.

Schoolcraft, op. cit., III, p. 269.

Dorsey, Omaha Sociol., Third Rep., pp. 229, 238, 240, 245.

But it is more frequently upon the body itself that the totemic mark is stamped: for this is a way of representation within the capacity of even the least advanced societies. It has sometimes been asked whether the common rite of knocking out a young man's two upper teeth at the age of puberty does not have the object of reproducing the form of the totem. The fact is not established, but it is worth mentioning that the natives themselves sometimes explain the custom thus. For example, among the Arunta, the extraction of teeth is practised only in the clans of the rain and of water; now according to tradition, the object of this operation is to make their faces look like certain black clouds with light borders which are believed to announce the speedy arrival of rain, and which are therefore considered things of the same family. This is a proof that the native himself is conscious that the object of these deformations is to give him, at least conventionally, the aspect of his totem. Among these same Arunta, in the course of the rites of sub-incision, certain gashes are cut upon the sisters and the future wife of the novice; scars result from these, whose form is also represented upon a certain sacred object of which we shall speak presently and which is called the churinga; as we shall see, the lines thus drawn upon the churinga are emblematic of the totem. Among the Kaitish, the euro is believed to be closely connected with the rain; the men of the rain clan wear little ear-rings made of euro teeth. Among the Yerkla, during the initiation the young man is given a certain number of slashes which leave scars; the number and form of these varies with the totems. An informer of Fison mentions the same fact in the tribes observed by him. According to Howitt, a relationship of the same sort exists among the Dieri between certain arrangements of scars and the water totem. Among the Indians of the North-West, it is a very general custom for them to tattoo themselves with the totem.

But the totemic mark is more often placed on the body itself. Even the least advanced societies can represent the totem in this way. Some have wondered whether a common rite is meant to reproduce the shape of the totem. In this rite, a young man’s two upper teeth are knocked out at puberty. This purpose has not been established, but it is worth noting that the natives themselves sometimes explain the custom this way. Among the Arunta, for example, teeth are extracted only in the rain and water clans. According to tradition, the operation makes their faces resemble certain black clouds with light borders. These clouds are believed to signal that rain will soon arrive. They are therefore considered things of the same family. This shows that the natives themselves understand the purpose of these alterations. They are meant to give people the appearance of their totem, at least in a conventional sense. Among these same Arunta, certain cuts are made on the novice’s sisters and future wife during the rites of sub-incision. The cuts leave scars, and their shape is also represented on a sacred object called the churinga. We shall discuss the churinga shortly. As we shall see, the lines drawn on it represent the totem. Among the Kaitish, the euro is believed to be closely connected with rain. Men of the rain clan wear small earrings made from euro teeth. Among the Yerkla, a young man is given a number of cuts during initiation, leaving scars. The number and shape of the scars vary with the totems. A person who provided information to Fison reported the same practice among the tribes he observed. According to Howitt, a similar relationship exists among the Dieri between certain patterns of scars and the water totem. Among the Indians of the North-West, tattooing themselves with the totem is a very common custom.

Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., p. 451.

Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., p. 257.

The meaning of these relations will be explained below (Bk. II, ch. iv).

Spencer and Gillen, Nor. Tr., p. 296.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., pp. 744-746. Compare p. 129.

Kamilaroi and Kurnai, p. 66 n. However, other informants dispute this fact.

Howitt, Nat. Tr., p. 744.

Swanton, Contributions to the Ethnology of the Haida, pp. 41 ff., Pl. XX and XXI. Boas, The Social Organization of the Kwakiutl, p. 318. Swanton, Tlingit, Pl. XVI ff. In one place outside the two ethnographic regions we are studying, these tattoo marks are put on animals belonging to the clan. The Bechuana of South Africa are divided into several clans, including the crocodile, buffalo, and monkey people. The crocodile people, for example, cut their cattle’s ears in the shape of a crocodile’s jaws (Casalis, Les Basoutos, p. 221). According to Robertson Smith, the same custom existed among the ancient Arabs (Kinship and Marriage in Early Arabia, pp. 212-214).

But even if the tattooings which are made by mutilations or scars do not always have a totemic significance, it is different with simple designs drawn upon the body: they are generally representations of the totem. It is true that the native does not carry them every day. When he is occupied with purely economic occupations, or when the small family groups scatter to hunt or fish, he does not bother with all this paraphernalia, which is quite complicated. But when the clans unite to live a common life and to assist at the religious ceremonies together, then he must adorn himself. As we shall see, each of the ceremonies concerns a particular totem, and in theory the rites which are connected with a totem can be performed only by the men of that totem. Now those who perform, who take the part of officiants, and sometimes even those who assist as spectators, always have designs representing the totem on their bodies. One of the principal rites of initiation, by which a young man enters into the religious life of the tribe, consists in painting the totemic symbol on his body. It is true that among the Arunta the design thus traced does not always and necessarily represent the totem of the initiated; but these are exceptions, due, undoubtedly, to the disturbed state of the totemic organization of this tribe. Also, even among the Arunta, at the most solemn moment of the initiation, which is its crown and consecration, when the neophyte is allowed to enter the sanctuary where all the sacred objects belonging to the clan are preserved, an emblematic painting is placed upon him; this time, it is the totem of the young man which is thus represented. The bonds which unite the individual to his totem are even so strong that in the tribes on the North-west coast of North America, the emblem of the clan is painted not only upon the living but also upon the dead: before a corpse is interred, they put the totemic mark upon it.

Even if tattoos made by cutting or scarring the skin do not always have totemic significance, simple designs drawn on the body are different. They generally represent the totem. It is true that a person does not wear them every day. When engaged in purely economic activities, or when small family groups scatter to hunt or fish, he does not bother with these elaborate adornments. But when the clans come together to live and take part in religious ceremonies, he must adorn himself. As we shall see, each ceremony concerns a particular totem. In theory, only men of that totem can perform the rites connected with it. Those who perform the rites, acting as officiants, always have designs representing the totem on their bodies. Sometimes even the spectators have these designs. One of the main initiation rites, through which a young man enters the tribe’s religious life, consists of painting the totemic symbol on his body. It is true that among the Arunta the design painted on the initiate does not always necessarily represent his own totem. But these are exceptions, undoubtedly due to the disrupted state of the tribe’s totemic organization. Even among the Arunta, an emblematic design is painted on the young man at the most solemn moment of initiation, its crowning and consecrating moment. This is when the initiate is allowed to enter the sanctuary where all the sacred objects belonging to the clan are kept. On this occasion, the design represents the young man’s own totem. The bonds between a person and his totem are so strong that, in the tribes of the North-west coast of North America, the clan emblem is painted not only on the living but also on the dead. Before a body is buried, the people put the totemic mark on it.

However, according to Spencer and Gillen, some have no religious meaning (see Nat. Tr., pp. 41 f.; Nor. Tr., pp. 45, 54-56).

Among the Arunta, there are exceptions to this rule, which will be explained below.

Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., p. 162, Nor. Tr., pp. 179, 259, 292, 295 f., Schulze, loc. cit., p. 221. What is represented is not always the totem itself. It may be something associated with the totem and considered part of the same family of things.

This is the case, for example, among the Warramunga, the Walpari, the Wulmala, the Tjingilli, the Umbaia and the Unmatjera (Nor. Tr., 339, 348). Among the Warramunga, as the design is made, the performers address the initiated person with these words: "That mark belongs to your place; do not look out along another place." "This means," say Spencer and Gillen, "that the young man must not interfere with ceremonies belonging to other totems than his own: it also indicates the very close association which is supposed to exist between a man and his totem and any spot especially connected with the totem" (Nor. Tr., p. 584 and n.). Among the Warramunga, the totem passes from father to child, so each locality has its own.

Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., pp. 215, 241, 376.

As noted above (see above, p. 107), a child in this tribe may have a different totem from his father, mother, or other relatives. Relatives on both sides are designated to conduct initiation ceremonies. In principle, however, a man can conduct or officiate only at ceremonies for his own totem. So, in some cases, the rites that initiate a young man must be connected with a totem other than his own. That is why the paintings on the novice’s body do not necessarily represent his own totem. Examples can be found in Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., p. 229. The circumcision shows that there is an anomaly here. It is performed by members of the totem that predominates in the initiate’s local group. That totem would be the initiate’s own if the totemic organization were not disturbed, and if it were the same among the Arunta as among the Warramunga (see Spencer and Gillen, ibid., p. 219).

Nat. Tr., p. 140. In this case, the novice keeps the decoration until it wears away on its own over time.

Boas, General Report on the Indians of British Columbia in British Association for the Advancement of Science, Fifth Rep. of the Committee on the N.W. Tribes of the Dominion of Canada, p. 41.

III

III

These totemic decorations enable us to see that the totem is not merely a name and an emblem. It is in the course of the religious ceremonies that they are employed; they are a part of the liturgy; so while the totem is a collective label, it also has a religious character. In fact, it is in connection with it, that things are classified as sacred or profane. It is the very type of sacred thing.

These totemic decorations show that the totem is more than a name and an emblem. The decorations are used in religious ceremonies and form part of the liturgy. So while the totem is a collective label, it also has a religious character. In fact, things are classified as sacred or profane in relation to the totem. The totem is the very model of a sacred thing.

The tribes of Central Australia, especially the Arunta, the Loritja, the Kaitish, the Unmatjera, and the Ilpirra, make constant use of certain instruments in their rites which are called the churinga by the Arunta, according to Spencer and Gillen, or the tjurunga, according to Strehlow. They are pieces of wood or bits of polished stone, of a great variety of forms, but generally oval or oblong. Each totemic group has a more or less important collection of these. Upon each of these is engraved a design representing the totem of this same group. A certain number of the churinga have a hole at one end, through which goes a thread made of human hair or that of an opossum. Those which are made of wood and are pierced in this way serve for exactly the same purposes as those instruments of the cult to which English ethnographers have given the name of "bull-roarers." By means of the thread by which they are suspended, they are whirled rapidly in the air in such a way as to produce a sort of humming identical with that made by the toys of this name still used by our children; this deafening noise has a ritual significance and accompanies all ceremonies of any importance. These sorts of churinga are real bull-roarers. But there are others which are not made of wood and are not pierced; consequently they cannot be employed in this way. Nevertheless, they inspire the same religious sentiments.

The tribes of Central Australia constantly use certain objects in their rites. These tribes include the Arunta, the Loritja, the Kaitish, the Unmatjera, and the Ilpirra. According to Spencer and Gillen, the Arunta call these objects churinga. According to Strehlow, they call them tjurunga. They are pieces of wood or polished stone in many shapes, but generally oval or oblong. Each totemic group has a collection of these objects, though collections vary in size. Each object is engraved with a design representing the totem of that group. Some churinga have a hole at one end, with a cord of human or opossum hair passing through it. The wooden churinga with holes serve exactly the same purposes as ritual instruments English ethnographers call "bull-roarers." They are swung rapidly through the air by the cord attached to them. This produces a humming sound identical to that made by toys of the same name still used by our children. This deafening noise has a ritual significance and accompanies all ceremonies of any importance. These churinga are true bull-roarers. But other churinga are not made of wood and have no holes, so they cannot be used this way. Nevertheless, they inspire the same religious feelings.

There are also some among the Warramunga, but fewer than among the Arunta. They do not appear in totemic ceremonies, though they do appear in the myths (Nor. Tr., p. 163).

Other tribes use different names. We use the Arunta term in a general sense because churinga are most important among the Arunta and have been studied most thoroughly there.

Strehlow, II, p. 81.

A few have no apparent design (see Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., p. 144).

In fact, every churinga, for whatever purpose it may be employed, is counted among the eminently sacred things; there are none which surpass it in religious dignity. This is indicated even by the word which is used to designate them. It is not only a substantive but also an adjective meaning sacred. Also, among the several names which each Arunta has, there is one so sacred that it must not be revealed to a stranger; it is pronounced but rarely, and then in a low voice and a sort of mysterious murmur. Now this name is called the aritna churinga (aritna means name). In general, the word churinga is used to designate all ritual acts; for example, ilia churinga signifies the cult of the emu. Churinga, when used substantively, therefore designates the thing whose essential characteristic is sacredness. Profane persons, that is to say, women and young men not yet initiated into the religious life, may not touch or even see the churinga; they are only allowed to look at it from a distance, and even this is only on rare occasions.

In fact, every churinga is considered supremely sacred, whatever its purpose. Nothing surpasses it in religious dignity. Even the word used to name these objects shows this. Churinga is not only a noun but also an adjective meaning sacred. Each Arunta has several names. One is so sacred that it must not be revealed to a stranger. This name is rarely spoken, and then only in a low voice, in a kind of mysterious murmur. The name is called the aritna churinga (aritna means name). More generally, the word churinga is used to refer to all ritual acts. For example, ilia churinga means the cult of the emu. As a noun, then, churinga refers to a thing whose essential characteristic is sacredness. Profane people, meaning women and young men not yet initiated into religious life, may not touch or even see the churinga. They may only look at it from a distance, and even then only on rare occasions.

Nat. Tr., pp. 139 and 648; Strehlow, II, p. 75.

Strehlow, who writes tjurunga, translates the word slightly differently. "This word," he says, "means that which is secret and personal (der eigene geheime). Tju is an old word which means hidden or secret, and runga means that which is my own." But Kempe, who is more authoritative than Strehlow on this matter, translates tju as great, powerful, sacred (Kempe, Vocabulary of the Tribes inhabiting Macdonell Ranges, s.v. Tju, in Transactions of the R. Society of Victoria, Vol. XIII). In essence, Strehlow’s translation is not as different from the other as it might first appear. What is secret is hidden from the knowledge of the profane, that is, it is sacred. But the meaning Strehlow gives to runga seems very doubtful to us. The emu ceremonies belong to all members of that clan, and all may participate in them. Therefore, the ceremonies are not personal to any one member.

Nat. Tr., pp. 130-132; Strehlow, II, p. 78. A woman who sees a churinga and a man who shows her one are both put to death.

The churinga are piously kept in a special place, which the Arunta call the ertnatulunga. This is a cave or a sort of cavern hidden in a deserted place. The entrance is carefully closed by means of stones so cleverly placed that a stranger going past it could not suspect that the religious treasury of the clan was so near to him. The sacred character of the churinga is so great that it communicates itself to the locality where they are stored: the women and the uninitiated cannot approach it. It is only after their initiation is completely finished that the young men have access to it: there are some who are not esteemed worthy of this favour except after years of trial. The religious nature radiates to a distance and communicates itself to all the surroundings: everything near by participates in this same nature and is therefore withdrawn from profane touch. Is one man pursued by another? If he succeeds in reaching the ertnatulunga, he is saved; he cannot be seized there. Even a wounded animal which takes refuge there must be respected. Quarrels are forbidden there. It is a place of peace, as is said in the Germanic societies; it is a sanctuary of the totemic group, it is a veritable place of asylum.

The churinga are reverently kept in a special place that the Arunta call the ertnatulunga. It is a cave or a cave-like hollow hidden in a deserted place. Its entrance is carefully closed with stones. The stones are so cleverly placed that a passing stranger would not suspect the clan's religious treasure was nearby. The churinga are so sacred that the place where they are stored also becomes sacred. Women and uninitiated people cannot approach it. Young men may enter only after their initiation is complete. Some are considered worthy of this privilege only after years of testing. The sacred character of the place radiates outward and spreads to all its surroundings. Everything nearby shares this sacred character and must therefore not be touched by the uninitiated. If one man is pursued by another and reaches the ertnatulunga, he is safe. He cannot be seized there. Even a wounded animal that takes refuge there must be left alone. Quarrels are forbidden there. As it would be called in Germanic societies, it is a place of peace. It is a sanctuary for the totemic group, a true place of asylum.

Strehlow defines this place in exactly the same terms as Spencer and Gillen. He calls it arknanaua instead of ertnatulunga (Strehlow, II, p. 78).

Nor. Tr., p. 270. Nat. Tr., p. 140.

Nat. Tr., p. 135.

Strehlow, II, p. 78. However, Strehlow says that if a murderer takes refuge near an ertnatulunga, he is relentlessly pursued there and killed. We find this hard to reconcile with the privilege enjoyed by animals. We wonder whether the harsh treatment of a criminal is recent and results from a weakening of the taboo that originally protected the ertnatulunga.

But the virtues of the churinga are not manifested merely by the way in which it keeps the profane at a distance. If it is thus isolated, it is because it is something of a high religious value whose loss would injure the group and the individuals severely. It has all sorts of marvellous properties: by contact it heals wounds, especially those resulting from circumcision; it has the same power over sickness; it is useful for making the beard grow; it confers important powers over the totemic species, whose normal reproduction it ensures; it gives men force, courage and perseverance, while, on the other hand, it depresses and weakens their enemies. This latter belief is so firmly rooted that when two combatants stand pitted against one another, if one sees that the other has brought churinga against him, he loses confidence and his defeat is certain. Thus there is no ritual instrument which has a more important place in the religious ceremonies. By means of various sorts of anointings, their powers are communicated either to the officiants or to the assistants; to bring this about, they are rubbed over the members and stomach of the faithful after being covered with grease; or sometimes they are covered with a down which flies away and scatters itself in every direction when they are whirled; this a way of disseminating the virtues which are in them.

But the powers of the churinga are not shown only by the way it keeps the profane at a distance. The churinga is kept apart because it has great religious value. Its loss would severely harm both the group and its members. It has all sorts of marvelous properties. Through contact, it heals wounds, especially those from circumcision. It has the same power over sickness. It helps beards grow. It gives people important powers over the totemic species and ensures its normal reproduction. It gives men strength, courage, and perseverance. It also discourages and weakens their enemies. This belief is so firmly rooted that it can decide a fight. When two opponents face each other, one may see that the other has brought churinga against him. If so, he loses confidence, and his defeat is certain. Thus, no ritual object has a more important place in religious ceremonies. Various forms of anointing transfer the powers of churinga to those performing or attending the ceremonies. For this purpose, churinga are covered with grease and rubbed over the limbs and stomachs of the faithful. Sometimes they are covered with down instead. When the churinga are whirled, the down flies off and scatters in every direction. This spreads the powers contained in the churinga.

Nat. Tr., p. 248.

Ibid., pp. 545 f. Strehlow, II, p. 79. For example, rubbing a churinga with a stone releases dust. Dissolved in water, the dust forms a potion that restores sick people to health.

Nat. Tr., pp. 545 f. Strehlow (II, p. 79) disputes this fact.

For example, if the churinga of the yam totem are placed in the soil, they make yams grow (Nor. Tr., p. 275). Churinga have the same power over animals (Strehlow, II, pp. 76, 78; III, pp. 3, 7).

Nat. Tr., p. 135; Strehlow, II, p. 79.

Nor. Tr., p. 278.

Ibid., p. 180.

Nor. Tr., pp. 272 f.

But they are not useful merely to individuals; the fate of the clan as a whole is bound up with theirs. Their loss is a disaster; it is the greatest misfortune which can happen to the group. Sometimes they leave the ertnatulunga, for example when they are loaned to other groups. Then follows a veritable public mourning. For two weeks, the people of the totem weep and lament, covering their bodies with white clay just as they do when they have lost a relative. And the churinga are not left at the free disposition of everybody; the ertnatulunga where they are kept is placed under the control of the chief of the group. It is true that each individual has special rights to some of them; yet, though he is their proprietor in a sense, he cannot make use of them except with the consent and under the direction of the chief. It is a collective treasury; it is the sacred ark of the clan. The devotion of which they are the object shows the high price that is attached to them. The respect with which they are handled is shown by the solemnity of the movements. They are taken care of, they are greased, rubbed, polished, and when they are moved from one locality to another, it is in the midst of ceremonies which bear witness to the fact that this displacement is regarded as an act of the highest importance.

But they are useful not only to individuals. The fate of the whole clan is bound up with theirs. Losing them is a disaster, the greatest misfortune that can happen to the group. Sometimes they leave the ertnatulunga, for example, when they are loaned to other groups. The whole group then goes into mourning. For two weeks, the people of the totem weep and lament. They cover their bodies with white clay, just as they do when they have lost a relative. And the churinga are not freely available to everyone. The chief of the group controls the ertnatulunga where they are kept. Each individual does have special rights to some of them. Yet, although he owns them in a sense, he can use them only with the chief’s consent and under his direction. The ertnatulunga is a shared treasury, the sacred ark of the clan. The devotion shown to the churinga reveals how highly they are valued. The solemn movements of those who handle them show the respect they command. They are cared for, greased, rubbed, and polished. When they are moved from one place to another, ceremonies mark the move as an act of the highest importance.

Nat. Tr., p. 135.

One group borrows another group’s churinga, believing that the objects will pass on some of their powers. Their presence will also strengthen the vitality of individuals and the group (Nat. Tr., pp. 158 ff.).

Ibid., p. 136.

Each person has a special bond with a particular churinga that ensures their life. They also have a bond with the churingas inherited from their parents.

Nat. Tr., p. 154; Nor. Tr., p. 193. The churinga are so thoroughly collective that they take the place of "message-sticks." Messengers from other tribes carry these sticks when sent to summon foreign groups to a ceremony (Nat. Tr., pp. 141 f.).

Ibid., p. 326. Bull-roarers are also used in the same way (Mathews, Aboriginal Tribes of N.S. Wales and Victoria, in Jour. of Roy. Soc. of N.S. Wales, XXXVIII, pp. 307 f.).

Nat. Tr., pp. 161, 259 ff.

Now in themselves, the churinga are objects of wood and stone like all others; they are distinguished from profane things of the same sort by only one particularity: this is that the totemic mark is drawn or engraved upon them. So it is this mark and this alone which gives them their sacred character. It is true that according to Spencer and Gillen, the churinga serve as the residence of an ancestor's soul and that it is the presence of this soul which confers these properties. While declaring this interpretation inexact, Strehlow, in his turn, proposes another which does not differ materially from the other: he claims that the churinga are considered the image of the ancestor's body, or the body itself. So, in any case, it would be sentiments inspired by the ancestor which fix themselves upon the material object, and convert it into a sort of fetish. But in the first place, both conceptions,—which, by the way, scarcely differ except in the letter of the myth,—have obviously been made up afterwards, to account for the sacred character of the churinga. In the constitution of these pieces of wood and bits of stone, and in their external appearance, there is nothing which predestines them to be considered the seat of an ancestral soul, or the image of his body. So if men have imagined this myth, it was in order to explain the religious respect which these things inspired in them, and the respect was not determined by the myth. This explanation, like so many mythological explanations, resolves the question only by repeating it in slightly different terms; for saying that the churinga is sacred and saying that it has such and such a relation with a sacred being, is merely to proclaim the same fact in two different ways; it is not accounting for them. Moreover, according to the avowal of Spencer and Gillen, there are some churinga among the Arunta which are made by the old men of the group, to the knowledge of and before the eyes of all; these obviously do not come from the great ancestors. However, except for certain differences of degree, they have the same power as the others and are preserved in the same manner. Finally, there are whole tribes where the churinga is never associated with a spirit. Its religious nature comes to it, then, from some other source, and whence could it come, if not from the totemic stamp which it bears? It is to this image, therefore, that the demonstrations of the rite are really addressed; it is this which sanctifies the object upon which it is carved.

In themselves, the churinga are objects made of wood and stone, like any others. Only one feature distinguishes them from ordinary objects of the same kind: the totemic mark drawn or engraved on them. So this mark alone gives them their sacred character. Spencer and Gillen say that the churinga house an ancestor's soul, whose presence gives them these properties. Strehlow calls this interpretation inaccurate, but proposes another that is not materially different. He claims that the churinga are considered either an image of the ancestor's body or the body itself. In either case, the feelings inspired by the ancestor would attach themselves to the material object, turning it into a kind of fetish. But first, both explanations were obviously invented afterward to account for the sacred character of the churinga. The two explanations, by the way, differ hardly at all except in the details of the myth. Nothing in the makeup or appearance of these pieces of wood and stone makes them likely to be considered the home of an ancestor's soul or an image of his body. So if people imagined this myth, it was to explain the religious respect these objects inspired. The myth did not cause that respect. Like so many mythological explanations, this one answers the question only by repeating it in slightly different terms. Saying that a churinga is sacred and saying that it has a particular relationship with a sacred being are merely two ways of stating the same fact. Neither explains it. Moreover, Spencer and Gillen acknowledge that among the Arunta, some churinga are made by the group's old men, with everyone knowing about it and watching. These churinga obviously do not come from the great ancestors. Yet, apart from certain differences in degree, they have the same power as the others and are kept in the same way. Finally, there are whole tribes where the churinga is never associated with a spirit. Its religious character must therefore come from another source. And where could it come from, if not from the totemic mark it bears? The acts of the rite are therefore really directed at this image. The image makes the object on which it is carved sacred.

Ibid., p. 138.

Strehlow, I, Vorwort. in fine; II, pp. 76, 77 and 82. For the Arunta, it is the ancestor’s own body. For the Loritja, it is only an image.

When a child is born, the mother shows the father where she believes the ancestor’s soul entered her. The father and a few relatives go to the spot and look for the churinga. They believe the ancestor left it there when he reincarnated himself. If they find it there, an old man of the group undoubtedly put it there (this is Spencer and Gillen’s hypothesis). If they do not find it, they make a new churinga in a prescribed way (Nat. Tr., p. 132. Cf. Strehlow, II, p. 80).

This is also the case among the Warramunga, the Urabunna, the Worgaia, the Umbaia, the Tjingilli and the Guangi (Nor. Tr., pp. 258, 275 f.). Spencer and Gillen say, "they were regarded as of especial value because of their association with a totem" (ibid., p. 276). There are examples of the same thing among the Arunta (Nat. Tr., 156).

Among the Arunta and the neighbouring tribes, there are two other liturgical instruments closely connected with the totem and the churinga itself, which ordinarily enters into their composition: they are the nurtunja and the waninga.

Among the Arunta and neighboring tribes, two other ritual objects are closely connected with the totem. They are the nurtunja and the waninga. The churinga itself is usually part of both objects.

The nurtunja, which is found among the northern Arunta and their immediate neighbours, is made up principally of a vertical support which is either a single lance, or several lances united into a bundle, or of a simple pole. Bunches of grass are fastened all around it by means of belts or little cords made of hair. Above this, down is placed, arranged either in circles or in parallel lines which run from the top to the bottom of the support. The top is decorated with the plumes of an eagle-hawk. This is only the most general and typical form; in particular cases, it has all sorts of variations.

The nurtunja, found among the northern Arunta and their immediate neighbours, is made up mainly of a vertical support. The support is a single lance, several lances tied together in a bundle, or a simple pole. Bunches of grass are fastened all around the support with belts or small cords made of hair. Down is placed over the grass, arranged in circles or in parallel lines running from top to bottom. The top is decorated with eagle-hawk plumes. This is only the most general and typical form. In particular cases, the nurtunja has all sorts of variations.

Strehlow writes tnatanja (I, pp. 4-5).

The Kaitish, the Ilpirra, and the Unmatjera, though it is rare among the Unmatjera.

Sometimes, very long churinga placed end to end replace the pole.

Sometimes a smaller one is hung from the top of the nurtunja. In other cases, the nurtunja is shaped like a cross or a T. More rarely, there is no central support (Nat. Tr., pp. 298-300, 360-364, 627).

The waninga, which is found only among the southern Arunta, the Urabunna and the Loritja, has no one unique model either. Reduced to its most essential elements, it too consists in a vertical support, formed by a long stick or by a lance several yards high, with sometimes one and sometimes two cross-pieces. In the former case, it has the appearance of a cross. Cords made either of human hair or opossum or bandicoot fur diagonally cross the space included between the arms of the cross and the extremities of the central axis; as they are quite close to each other, they form a network in the form of a lozenge. When there are two cross-bars, these cords go from one to the other and from these to the top and bottom of the support. They are sometimes covered with a layer of down, thick enough to conceal the foundation. Thus the waninga has the appearance of a veritable flag.

The waninga is found only among the southern Arunta, the Urabunna, and the Loritja. It, too, has no single standard form. At its simplest, it consists of a long stick or lance standing upright, several yards high. It has either one or two crossbars. With one crossbar, it looks like a cross. Cords made of human hair or opossum or bandicoot fur cross diagonally between the crossbar’s ends and the ends of the upright support. The cords are close together, forming a diamond-shaped net. When there are two crossbars, the cords run between them and from each crossbar to the nearest end of the support. The cords are sometimes covered with a layer of down thick enough to hide the structure beneath. The waninga then looks like a real flag.

Sometimes there are even three crossbars.

Nat. Tr,, pp. 231-234, 306-310, 627. Besides the nurtunja and the waninga, Spencer and Gillen identify a third kind of sacred post or flag, called the kanana (Nat. Tr., pp. 364, 370, 629). They admit that they have been unable to determine its functions. They note only that it "is regarded as something common to the members of all the totems." According to Strehlow (II, p. 23, n. 2), the kanana described by Spencer and Gillen is simply the nurtunja of the Wild Cat totem. The Wild Cat is the object of a tribal cult, so all the clans might easily share in its veneration.

Now the nurtunja and the waninga, which figure in a multitude of important rites, are the object of a religious respect quite like that inspired by the churinga. The process of their manufacture and erection is conducted with the greatest solemnity. Fixed in the earth, or carried by an officiant, they mark the central point of the ceremony: it is about them that the dances take place and the rites are performed. In the course of the initiation, the novice is led to the foot of a nurtunja erected for the occasion. Someone says to him, "There is the nurtunja of your father; many young men have already been made by it." After that, the initiate must kiss the nurtunja. By this kiss, he enters into relations with the religious principle which resides there; it is a veritable communion which should give the young man the force required to support the terrible operation of sub-incision. The nurtunja also plays a considerable rôle in the mythology of these societies. The myths relate that in the fabulous times of the great ancestors, the territory of the tribe was overrun in every direction by companies composed exclusively of individuals of the same totem. Each of these troops had a nurtunja with it. When it stopped to camp, before scattering to hunt, the members fixed their nurtunja in the ground, from the top of which their churinga was suspended. That is equivalent to saying that they confided the most precious things they had to it. It was at the same time a sort of standard which served as a rallying-centre for the group. One cannot fail to be struck by the analogies between the nurtunja and the sacred post of the Omaha.

The nurtunja and the waninga appear in many important rites. They are treated with religious respect much like that inspired by the churinga. They are made and erected with great solemnity. Whether fixed in the ground or carried by an officiant, they mark the center of the ceremony. Dances and rites take place around them. During initiation, the novice is brought to the foot of a nurtunja erected for the occasion. Someone says to him, "There is the nurtunja of your father; many young men have already been made by it." The initiate must then kiss the nurtunja. Through this kiss, he connects with the religious principle that resides in the nurtunja. It is a true communion, intended to give the young man strength to endure the terrible operation of sub-incision. The nurtunja also plays an important role in the mythology of these societies. The myths tell of a legendary time when the great ancestors lived. Companies of people traveled throughout the tribe’s territory, each made up entirely of people of the same totem. Each company carried a nurtunja. When its members stopped to camp, they fixed their nurtunja in the ground before scattering to hunt. They suspended their churinga from its top. In effect, they entrusted their most precious possessions to the nurtunja. It was also a kind of standard that served as a rallying point for the group. The similarities between the nurtunja and the sacred post of the Omaha are striking.

Nor. Tr., p. 342. Nat. Tr., p. 309.

Nat. Tr., p. 255.

Ibid., ch. x and xi.

Ibid., pp. 138, 144.

See Dorsey, Siouan Cults, XIth Rep., p. 413; Omaha Sociology, Third Rep., p. 234. The tribe has only one sacred post, while each clan has a nurtunja. But the principle is the same.

Now its sacred character can come from only one cause: that is that it represents the totem materially. The vertical lines or rings of down which cover it, and even the cords of different colours which fasten the arms of the waninga to the central axis, are not arranged arbitrarily, according to the taste of the makers; they must conform to a type strictly determined by tradition which, in the minds of the natives, represents the totem. Here we cannot ask, as we did in the case of the churinga, whether the veneration accorded to this instrument of the cult is not merely the reflex of that inspired by the ancestors; for it is a rule that each nurtunja and each waninga last only during the ceremony where they are used. They are made all over again every time that it is necessary, and when the rite is once accomplished, they are stripped of their ornaments and the elements out of which they are made are scattered. They are nothing more than images—and temporary images at that—of the totem, and consequently it is on this ground, and on this ground alone, that they play a religious rôle.

Now, its sacred character can have only one cause: it physically represents the totem. Vertical lines or rings of down cover it. Even the cords of different colors that fasten the arms of the waninga to its central axis are not arranged arbitrarily, according to the makers’ tastes. They must follow a pattern strictly fixed by tradition, which represents the totem in the minds of the natives. As we did with the churinga, we asked whether the reverence given to that ritual object merely reflected the reverence inspired by the ancestors. But we cannot ask that here. Each nurtunja and each waninga lasts only for the ceremony in which it is used. They are made anew whenever needed. Once the rite is complete, their ornaments are removed and the materials they are made from are scattered. They are nothing more than images of the totem, and temporary images at that. Consequently, they play a religious role on this basis alone.

Nat. Tr., pp. 232, 308, 313, 334, etc. Nor. Tr., 182, 186, etc.

Nat. Tr., p. 346. Some do say that the nurtunja represents the lance of the ancestor who led each clan in Alcheringa times. But it is only a symbolic representation of the lance. Unlike the churinga, it is not a kind of relic believed to come from the ancestor himself. Here it is especially clear that this explanation is secondary.

So the churinga, the nurtunja and the waninga owe their religious nature solely to the fact that they bear the totemic emblem. It is the emblem that is sacred. It keeps this character, no matter where it may be represented. Sometimes it is painted upon rocks; these paintings are called churinga ilkinia, sacred drawings. The decorations with which the officiants and assistants at the religious ceremonies adorn themselves have the same name: women and children may not see them. In the course of certain rites, the totem is drawn upon the ground. The way in which this is done bears witness to the sentiments inspired by this design, and the high value attributed to it; it is traced upon a place that has been previously sprinkled, and saturated with human blood, and we shall presently see that the blood is in itself a sacred liquid, serving for pious uses only. When the design has been made, the faithful remain seated on the ground before it, in an attitude of the purest devotion. If we give the word a sense corresponding to the mentality of the primitive, we may say that they adore it. This enables us to understand how the totemic blazon has remained something very precious for the Indians of North America: it is always surrounded with a sort of religious halo.

So the churinga, the nurtunja and the waninga are religious objects solely because they bear the totemic emblem. The emblem itself is sacred. It remains sacred wherever it appears. Sometimes it is painted on rocks. These paintings are called churinga ilkinia, sacred drawings. The decorations worn by those who lead and assist at religious ceremonies have the same name. Women and children may not see them. During certain rites, the totem is drawn on the ground. The way this is done shows the feelings the design inspires and the great value placed on it. It is traced on a spot previously sprinkled and soaked with human blood. As we shall soon see, blood is itself a sacred liquid, used only for religious purposes. Once the design is complete, the faithful sit on the ground before it in an attitude of pure devotion. If we give the word a meaning suited to the mentality of primitive people, we may say they adore the design. This helps us understand why the totemic blazon has remained so precious to the Indians of North America. It is always surrounded by a kind of religious halo.

Nat. Tr., pp. 614 ff., esp. p. 617. Nor. Tr., p. 749.

Nat. Tr., p. 624.

Ibid., p. 179.

Ibid., p. 181.

But if we are seeking to understand how it comes that these totemic representations are so sacred, it is not without interest to see what they consist in.

But if we want to understand why these totemic representations are so sacred, it is worth considering what they consist of.

Among the Indians of North America, they are painted, engraved or carved images which attempt to reproduce as faithfully as possible the external aspect of the totemic animal. The means employed are those which we use to-day in similar circumstances, except that they are generally cruder. But it is not the same in Australia, and it is in the Australian societies that we must seek the origin of these representations. Although the Australian may show himself sufficiently capable of imitating the forms of things in a rudimentary way, sacred representations generally seem to show no ambitions in this line: they consist essentially in geometrical designs drawn upon the churinga, the nurtunga, rocks, the ground, or the human body. They are either straight or curved lines, painted in different ways, and the whole having only a conventional meaning. The connection between the figure and the thing represented is so remote and indirect that it cannot be seen, except when it is pointed out. Only the members of the clan can say what meaning is attached to such and such combinations of lines. Men and women are generally represented by semicircles, and animals by whole circles or spirals, the tracks of men or animals by lines of points, etc. The meaning of the figures thus obtained is so arbitrary that a single design may have two different meanings for the men of two different totems, representing one animal here, and another animal or plant there. This is perhaps still more apparent with the nurtunja and waninga. Each of them represents a different totem. But the few and simple elements which enter into their composition do not allow a great variety of combinations. The result is that two nurtunja may have exactly the same appearance, and yet express two things as different as a gum tree and an emu. When a nurtunja is made, it is given a meaning which it keeps during the whole ceremony, but which, in the last resort, is fixed by convention.

Among the Indians of North America, these are painted, engraved, or carved images. They attempt to reproduce the outward appearance of the totemic animal as faithfully as possible. The methods used are those we use today in similar circumstances, though they are generally cruder. But things are different in Australia, and we must look to Australian societies for the origin of these representations. An Australian may be quite capable of imitating the shapes of things in a basic way. But sacred representations generally do not seem to aim at imitation. They consist mainly of geometric designs drawn on the churinga, the nurtunga, rocks, the ground, or the human body. They are straight or curved lines, painted in different ways. Taken together, the lines have a meaning established only by convention. The connection between the design and what it represents is so remote and indirect that it can be seen only when someone points it out. Only clan members can say what meaning is attached to a particular combination of lines. Men and women are generally represented by semicircles, and animals by complete circles or spirals. The tracks of people or animals are represented by lines of dots, and so on. The meaning of these designs is so arbitrary that one design may mean different things to members of two different totems. In one case it may represent one animal, and in another, a different animal or a plant. This is perhaps even clearer with the nurtunja and waninga. Each represents a different totem. But they are made from a few simple elements, which allow little variety in their combinations. As a result, two nurtunja may look exactly alike, yet represent things as different as a gum tree and an emu. When a nurtunja is made, it is given a meaning that it keeps throughout the ceremony. But that meaning is ultimately established by convention.

See the examples in Spencer and Gillen, Nat. Tr., Fig. 131. Many of the designs evidently represent animals, plants, men's heads, and so on, though all are highly stylized.

Nat. Tr., p. 617; Nor. Tr., p. 716 ff.

Nat. Tr., p. 145; Strehlow, II, p. 80.

Nat. Tr., p. 151.

Ibid., p. 346.

These facts prove that if the Australian is so strongly inclined to represent his totem, it is in order not to have a portrait of it before his eyes which would constantly renew the sensation of it; it is merely because he feels the need of representing the idea which he forms of it by means of material and external signs, no matter what these signs may be. We are not yet ready to attempt to understand what has thus caused the primitive to write his idea of his totem upon his person and upon different objects, but it is important to state at once the nature of the need which has given rise to these numerous representations.

These facts prove why the Australian is so strongly inclined to represent his totem. It is not to keep a portrait before his eyes that would constantly renew his sensation of the totem. Rather, he feels the need to express his idea of the totem through material, external signs, whatever those signs may be. We are not yet ready to understand what has caused the primitive to mark his body and various objects with his idea of his totem. But we must state at once the nature of the need that has given rise to these many representations.

There is no doubt that these designs and paintings also have an aesthetic character. They are the first form of art. Since they are also, and above all, a written language, design and writing share the same origins. It even becomes clear that people began designing not so much to create beautiful forms on wood or stone that please the senses, but to give physical form to their thoughts (cf. Schoolcraft, Indian Tribes, I, p. 405; Dorsey, Siouan Cults, pp. 394 ff.).