Origins of These Beliefs, Continued: Totemic Principle, Mana, and Force

Since individual totemism is later than the totemism of the clan, and even seems to be derived from it, it is to this latter form that we must turn first of all. But as the analysis which we have just made of it has resolved it into a multiplicity of beliefs which may appear quite heterogeneous, before going farther, we must seek to learn what makes its unity.

Individual totemism came after clan totemism and even seems to have developed from it. So we must first turn to clan totemism. But our analysis has broken it down into many beliefs that may seem quite different from one another. Before going further, we must therefore ask what gives clan totemism its unity.

We have seen that totemism places the figured representations of the totem in the first rank of the things it considers sacred; next come the animals or vegetables whose name the clan bears, and finally the members of the clan. Since all these things are sacred in the same way, though to different degrees, their religious character can be due to none of the special attributes distinguishing them from each other. If a certain species of animal or vegetable is the object of a reverential fear, this is not because of its special properties, for the human members of the clan enjoy this same privilege, though to a slightly inferior degree, while the mere image of this same plant or animal inspires an even more pronounced respect. The similar sentiments inspired by these different sorts of things in the mind of the believer, which give them their sacred character, can evidently come only from some common principle partaken of alike by the totemic emblems, the men of the clan and the individuals of the species serving as totem. In reality, it is to this common principle that the cult is addressed. In other words totemism is the religion, not of such and such animals or men or images, but of an anonymous and impersonal force, found in each of these beings but not to be confounded with any of them. No one possesses it entirely and all participate in it. It is so completely independent of the particular subjects in whom it incarnates itself, that it precedes them and survives them. Individuals die, generations pass and are replaced by others; but this force always remains actual, living and the same. It animates the generations of to-day as it animated those of yesterday and as it will animate those of to-morrow. Taking the words in a large sense, we may say that it is the god adored by each totemic cult. Yet it is an impersonal god, without name or history, immanent in the world and diffused in an innumerable multitude of things.

We have seen that totemism ranks images of the totem first among the things it considers sacred. Next come the animals or plants whose name the clan bears, and finally the clan members. All these things are sacred in the same way, though to different degrees. Their sacred character therefore cannot come from any of the particular qualities that distinguish them from one another. If a species of animal or plant inspires reverential fear, this is not because of its particular qualities. Human clan members enjoy the same privilege, though to a slightly lesser degree. And a mere image of the same plant or animal inspires even greater respect. These different kinds of things inspire similar feelings in the believer, and these feelings give them their sacred character. The feelings can evidently come only from a common principle shared by all of them. Totemic emblems, clan members, and individual animals or plants of the species serving as totem all share this principle. In reality, this common principle is what the cult worships. In other words, totemism is not the religion of particular animals, people, or images. It is the religion of an anonymous, impersonal force found in each of these beings but distinct from them all. No one possesses the whole force, but all share in it. This force is entirely independent of the particular beings in whom it takes form. It exists before them and survives them. Individuals die, and generations pass and are replaced by others. But the force always remains present, alive, and unchanged. It gives life to today's generations, just as it did to yesterday's and will to tomorrow's. In a broad sense, we may call it the god worshipped by each totemic cult. Yet it is an impersonal god, without name or history, present in the world and spread through countless things.

But even now we have only an imperfect idea of the real ubiquity of this quasi-divine entity. It is not merely found in the whole totemic species, the whole clan and all the objects symbolizing the totem: the circle of its action extends beyond that. In fact, we have seen that in addition to the eminently holy things, all those attributed to the clan as dependencies of the principal totem have this same character to a certain degree. They also have something religious about them, for some are protected by interdictions, while others have determined functions in the ceremonies of the cult. Their religiousness does not differ in kind from that of the totem under which they are classified; it must therefore be derived from the same source. So it is because the totemic god—to use again the metaphorical expression which we have just employed—is in them, just as it is in the species serving as totem and in the men of the clan. We may see how much it differs from the beings in which it resides from the fact that it is the soul of so many different beings.

But even now, we have only an incomplete idea of how widely this almost divine entity is present. It is found throughout the totemic species, throughout the clan, and in all the objects that symbolize the totem. But its influence extends beyond them. We have seen that, besides the most sacred things, all things associated with the clan as offshoots of the principal totem share this sacred character to some degree. They too have something religious about them. Some are protected by prohibitions, while others have specific roles in the ceremonies of the cult. Their religious character is no different in kind from that of the totem under which they are classified. It must therefore come from the same source. So the totemic god is in them, just as it is in the species that serves as the totem and in the men of the clan. Here I am using the same metaphorical expression as before. The totemic god is the soul of so many different beings. From this we can see how much it differs from the beings in which it resides.

But the Australian does not represent this impersonal force in an abstract form. Under the influence of causes which we must seek, he has been led to conceive it under the form of an animal or vegetable species, or, in a word, of a visible object This is what the totem really consists in: it is only the material form under which the imagination represents this immaterial substance, this energy diffused through all sorts of heterogeneous things, which alone is the real object of the cult. We are now in a better condition for understanding what the native means when he says that the men of the Crow phratry, for example, are crows. He does not exactly mean to say that they are crows in the vulgar and empiric sense of the term, but that the same principle is found in all of them, which is their most essential characteristic, which they have in common with the animals of the same name and which is thought of under the external form of a crow. Thus the universe, as totemism conceives it, is filled and animated by a certain number of forces which the imagination represents in forms taken, with only a few exceptions, from the animal or vegetable kingdoms: there are as many of them as there are clans in the tribe, and each of them is also found in certain categories of things, of which it is the essence and vital principle.

But the Australian does not imagine this impersonal force in an abstract form. For reasons we must investigate, he has come to imagine it as an animal or plant species, or some other visible object. This is what the totem really is. It is only the material form the imagination gives to this immaterial substance. The substance is an energy spread through all kinds of different things, and it alone is the true object of worship. We can now better understand what the native means when he says that members of the Crow phratry, for example, are crows. He does not mean that they are crows in the ordinary, observable sense. Rather, he means that the same principle is found in all of them. This principle is their most essential characteristic. They share it with the animals of the same name, and it is imagined in the outward form of a crow. Thus, as totemism conceives it, the universe is filled and animated by a number of forces. With only a few exceptions, the imagination represents these forces in animal or plant forms. There are as many forces as there are clans in the tribe. Each force is also found in certain categories of things, whose essence and vital principle it is.

When we say that these principles are forces, we do not take the word in a metaphorical sense; they act just like veritable forces. In one sense, they are even material forces which mechanically engender physical effects. Does an individual come in contact with them without having taken proper precautions? He receives a shock which might be compared to the effect of an electric discharge. Sometimes they seem to conceive of these as a sort of fluid escaping by points.⁶¹⁴ If they are introduced into an organism not made to receive them, they produce sickness and death by a wholly automatic action.⁶¹⁵ Outside of men, they play the rôle of vital principle; it is by acting on them, we shall see,⁶¹⁶ that the reproduction of the species is assured. It is upon them that the universal life reposes.

When we call these principles forces, we do not mean the word metaphorically. They act just like real forces. In one sense, they are even material forces that mechanically produce physical effects. If someone comes into contact with them without taking proper precautions, that person receives a shock. The shock is comparable to an electric discharge. Sometimes people seem to think of these forces as a kind of fluid escaping through points.⁶¹⁴ If the forces enter an organism not suited to receive them, they automatically cause sickness and death.⁶¹⁵ Outside human beings, these forces serve as a vital principle. As we shall see,⁶¹⁶ it is by acting on them that the reproduction of species is assured. All life depends on them.

But in addition to this physical aspect, they also have a moral character. When someone asks a native why he observes his rites, he replies that his ancestors always have observed them, and he ought to follow their example.⁶¹⁷ So if he acts in a certain way towards the totemic beings, it is not only because the forces resident in them are physically redoubtable, but because he feels himself morally obliged to act thus; he has the feeling that he is obeying an imperative, that he is fulfilling a duty. For these sacred beings, he has not merely fear, but also respect. Moreover, the totem is the source of the moral life of the clan. All the beings partaking of the same totemic principle consider that owing to this very fact, they are morally bound to one another; they have definite duties of assistance, vendetta, etc., towards each other; and it is these duties which constitute kinship. So while the totemic principle is a totemic force, it is also a moral power; so we shall see how it easily transforms itself into a divinity properly so-called.

But besides this physical aspect, they also have a moral character. When someone asks a native why he observes his rites, he replies that his ancestors always observed them. He says he ought to follow their example.⁶¹⁷ So if he acts in a certain way toward totemic beings, it is not only because their powers are physically dangerous. It is also because he feels morally obliged to act that way. He feels that he is obeying a command and fulfilling a duty. He feels not only fear but also respect for these sacred beings. Moreover, the totem is the source of the clan’s moral life. All beings who share the same totemic principle consider themselves morally bound to one another for that very reason. They have definite duties toward each other, including assistance and vendetta. These duties are what make up kinship. So, while the totemic principle is a totemic force, it is also a moral power. We shall see how easily it therefore becomes a divinity in the full sense of the word.

Moreover, there is nothing here which is special to totemism. Even in the most advanced religions, there is scarcely a god who has not kept something of this ambiguity and whose functions are not at once cosmic and moral. At the same time that it is a spiritual discipline, every religion is also a means enabling men to face the world with greater confidence. Even for the Christian, is not God the Father the guardian of the physical order as well as the legislator and the judge of human conduct?

Moreover, none of this is unique to totemism. Even in the most advanced religions, almost every god retains some of this ambiguity. Almost every god has both cosmic and moral functions. Every religion is a spiritual discipline. It is also a way for people to face the world with greater confidence. Even for the Christian, isn’t God the Father both the guardian of the physical order and the lawgiver and judge of human conduct?

Perhaps someone will ask whether, in interpreting totemism thus, we do not endow the native with ideas surpassing the limits of his intellect. Of course we are not prepared to affirm that he represents these forces with the relative clarity which we have been able to give to them in our analysis. We are able to show quite clearly that this notion is implied by the whole system of beliefs which it dominates; but we are unable to say how far it is conscious and how far, on the contrary, it is only implicit and confusedly felt. There is no way of determining just what degree of clarity an idea like this may have in obscure minds. But it is well shown, in any case, that this in no way surpasses the capacities of the primitive mind, and on the contrary, the results at which we have just arrived are confirmed by the fact that either in the societies closely related to these Australian tribes, or even in these tribes themselves, we find, in an explicit form, conceptions which differ from the preceding only by shades and degrees.

Perhaps someone will ask whether this interpretation of totemism credits the native with ideas beyond his intellectual capacity. Of course, we do not claim that he understands these forces as clearly as our analysis presents them. We can show clearly that the whole system of beliefs implies this idea, which governs the system. But we cannot say how far the idea is conscious, or how far it is only implicit and dimly felt. There is no way to determine just how clearly such an idea may be understood by people with obscure minds. But in any case, the idea is clearly not beyond the capacities of the primitive mind. On the contrary, our conclusions are confirmed by what we find in societies closely related to these Australian tribes, and even in the tribes themselves. In these societies, we find explicit ideas that differ only in shades and degrees from those described above.

The native religions of Samoa have certainly passed the totemic phase. Real gods are found there, who have their own names, and, to a certain degree, their own personal physiognomy. Yet the traces of totemism are hardly contestable. In fact, each god is attached to a group, either local or domestic, just as the totem is to its clan.⁶¹⁸ Then, each of these gods is thought of as immanent in a special species of animal. But this does not mean that he resides in one subject in particular: he is immanent in all at once; he is diffused in the species as a whole. When an animal dies, the men of the group who venerate it weep for it and render pious duties to it, because a god inhabits it; but the god is not dead. He is eternal, like the species. He is not even confused with the present generation; he has already been the soul of the preceding one, as he will be the soul of the one which is to follow.⁶¹⁹ So he has all the characteristics of the totemic principle. He is the totemic principle, re-clothed in a slightly personal form by the imagination. But still, we must not exaggerate a personality which is hardly reconcilable with this diffusion and ubiquity. If its contours were clearly defined, it could never spread out thus and enter into such a multitude of things.

The native religions of Samoa have certainly passed the totemic stage. They have real gods, each with a name and, to some degree, a distinct personality. Yet the traces of totemism are hardly open to dispute. Each god is linked to a local or family group, just as a totem is linked to its clan.⁶¹⁸ Each god is also believed to be present in a particular animal species. But this does not mean that the god lives in one animal in particular. He is present in all of them at once, spread throughout the species as a whole. When an animal dies, the men of the group who venerate it weep and perform religious rites for it, because a god inhabits it. But the god is not dead. He is eternal, like the species. He is not even identified with the present generation alone. He was the soul of the previous generation and will be the soul of the next.⁶¹⁹ So he has all the characteristics of the totemic principle. He is the totemic principle, given a slightly personal form by the imagination. But we must not exaggerate this personality. It is hardly compatible with the god’s presence everywhere throughout the species. If the personality were clearly defined, it could never spread out like this and enter into so many things.

However, it is incontestable that in this case the idea of an impersonal religious force is beginning to change; but there are other cases where it is affirmed in all its abstract purity and even reaches a higher degree of generality than in Australia. If the different totemic principles to which the various clans of a single tribe address themselves are distinct from each other, they are, none the less, comparable to each other at bottom; for all play the same rôle in their respective spheres. There are societies which have had the feeling of this unity with nature and have consequently advanced to the idea of a unique religious force of which all other sacred principles are only expressions and which makes the unity of the universe. As these societies are still thoroughly impregnated with totemism, and as they remain entangled in a social organization identical with that of the Australians, we may say that totemism contained this idea in potentiality.

However, the idea of an impersonal religious force is unquestionably beginning to change in this case. But in other cases, the idea appears in its purely abstract form. It even becomes more general than in Australia. The different totemic principles addressed by the clans of a single tribe are distinct from one another. Even so, they are fundamentally comparable, because they all play the same role in their respective spheres. Some societies have sensed this underlying unity. As a result, they have developed the idea of a single religious force that unifies the universe. All other sacred principles are merely expressions of this force. These societies are still deeply influenced by totemism. They also remain bound up in a social organization identical to that of the Australians. We may therefore say that this idea was potentially present in totemism.

This can be observed in a large number of American tribes, especially those belonging to the great Sioux family: the Omaha, Ponka, Kansas, Osage, Assiniboin, Dakota, Iowa, Winnebago, Mandan, Hidatsa, etc. Many of these are still organized in clans, as the Omaha⁶²⁰ and the Iowa;⁶²¹ others were so not long since, and, says Dorsey, it is still possible to find among them "all the foundations of the totemic system, just as in the other societies of the Sioux."⁶²² Now among these peoples, above all the particular deities to whom men render a cult, there is a pre-eminent power to which all the others have the relation of derived forms, and which is called wakan.⁶²³ Owing to the preponderating place thus assigned to this principle in the Siouan pantheon, it is sometimes regarded as a sort of sovereign god, or a Jupiter or Jahveh, and travellers have frequently translated wakan by "great spirit." This is misrepresenting its real nature gravely. The wakan is in no way a personal being; the natives do not represent it in a determined form. According to an observer cited by Dorsey, "they say that they have never seen the wakanda, so they cannot pretend to personify it."⁶²⁴ It is not even possible to define it by determined attributes and characteristics. "No word," says Riggs, "can explain the meaning of this term among the Dakota. It embraces all mystery, all secret power, all divinity."⁶²⁵ All the beings which the Dakota reveres, "the earth, the four winds, the sun, the moon and the stars, are manifestations of this mysterious life and power" which enters into all. Sometimes it is represented in the form of a wind, as a breath having its seat in the four cardinal points and moving everything:⁶²⁶ sometimes it is a voice heard in the crashing of the thunder;⁶²⁷ the sun, moon and stars are wakan.⁶²⁸ But no enumeration could exhaust this infinitely complex idea. It is not a definite and definable power, the power of doing this or that; it is Power in an absolute sense, with no epithet or determination of any sort. The various divine powers are only particular manifestations and personifications of it; each of them is this power seen under one of its numerous aspects.⁶²⁹ It is this which made one observer say, "He is a protean god; he is supposed to appear to different persons in different forms."⁶³⁰ Nor are the gods the only beings animated by it: it is the principle of all that lives or acts or moves. "All life is wakan. So also is everything which exhibits power, whether in action, as the winds and drifting clouds, or in passive endurance, as the boulder by the wayside."⁶³¹

This can be seen in many American tribes, especially those belonging to the great Sioux family. These include the Omaha, Ponka, Kansas, Osage, Assiniboin, Dakota, Iowa, Winnebago, Mandan, Hidatsa, and others. Many are still organized in clans, such as the Omaha⁶²⁰ and the Iowa.⁶²¹ Others were organized this way until recently. Among these peoples, Dorsey says, it is still possible to find "all the foundations of the totemic system, just as in the other societies of the Sioux."⁶²² Among these peoples, a supreme power stands above the particular deities that people worship. All the other powers are derived forms of this power, which is called wakan.⁶²³ Because this principle holds such an important place in the Siouan pantheon, it is sometimes seen as a kind of supreme god, a Jupiter or Jahveh. Travelers have often translated wakan as "great spirit." But this seriously misrepresents its true nature. The wakan is not a personal being, and the native peoples do not picture it in any definite form. According to an observer cited by Dorsey, "they say that they have never seen the wakanda, so they cannot pretend to personify it."⁶²⁴ It is not even possible to define wakan by specific attributes or characteristics. "No word," says Riggs, "can explain the meaning of this term among the Dakota. It embraces all mystery, all secret power, all divinity."⁶²⁵ All the beings the Dakota revere, "the earth, the four winds, the sun, the moon and the stars, are manifestations of this mysterious life and power" that enters into everything. Sometimes wakan is pictured as a wind, a breath that resides at the four cardinal points and moves everything.⁶²⁶ Sometimes it is a voice heard in the crash of thunder.⁶²⁷ The sun, moon, and stars are wakan.⁶²⁸ But no list could cover every aspect of this infinitely complex idea. Wakan is not a definite, definable power to do this or that. It is Power in an absolute sense, without any qualification or limitation. The various divine powers are only particular manifestations and personifications of wakan. Each divine power is wakan seen in one of its many aspects.⁶²⁹ This is why one observer said, "He is a protean god; he is supposed to appear to different persons in different forms."⁶³⁰ Nor are the gods the only beings animated by wakan. It is the principle of everything that lives, acts, or moves. "All life is wakan. So also is everything which exhibits power, whether in action, as the winds and drifting clouds, or in passive endurance, as the boulder by the wayside."⁶³¹

Among the Iroquois, whose social organization has an even more pronouncedly totemic character, this, same idea is found again; the word orenda which expresses it is the exact equivalent of the wakan of the Sioux. "The savage man," says Hewitt, "conceived the diverse bodies collectively constituting his environment to possess inherently mystic potence ... (whether they be) the rocks, the waters, the tides, the plants and the trees, the animals and man, the wind and the storms, the clouds and the thunders and the lightnings,"⁶³² etc. "This potence is held to be the property of all things ... and by the inchoate mentation of man is regarded as the efficient cause of all phenomena, all the activities of his environment."⁶³³ A sorcerer or shaman has orenda, but as much would be said of a man succeeding in his enterprises. At bottom, there is nothing in the world which does not have its quota of orenda; but the quantities vary. There are some beings, either men or things, which are favoured; there are others which are relatively disinherited, and the universal life consists in the struggles of these orenda of unequal intensity. The more intense conquer the weaker. Is one man more successful than his companions in the hunt or at war? It is because he has more orenda. If an animal escapes from a hunter who is pursuing it, it is because the orenda of the former was the more powerful.

Among the Iroquois, whose social organization has an even more distinctly totemic character, the same idea appears again. The word orenda, which expresses this idea, is the exact equivalent of the Sioux word wakan. Hewitt says: “The savage man believed that the various things making up his surroundings had an inherent mystical power ... (whether these were) rocks, waters, tides, plants and trees, animals and humans, wind and storms, clouds, thunder and lightning,”⁶³² and so on. “This power is believed to belong to all things ... and the early human mind regards it as the cause of all phenomena and all activity in its surroundings.”⁶³³ A sorcerer or shaman has orenda, but the same would be said of a man who succeeds in his undertakings. In fact, everything in the world has its share of orenda, but the amounts vary. Some beings, whether people or things, are favored, while others have relatively little. All life consists of struggles between these orenda of unequal strength. The stronger overcome the weaker. Is one man more successful than his companions in hunting or war? That is because he has more orenda. If an animal escapes a hunter pursuing it, that is because the animal’s orenda was stronger.

This same idea is found among the Shoshone under the name of pokunt, among the Algonquin under the name of manitou,⁶³⁴ of nauala among the Kwakiutl,⁶³⁵ of yek among the Tlinkit⁶³⁶ and of sgâna among the Haida.⁶³⁷ But it is not peculiar to the Indians of North America; it is in Melanesia that it was studied for the first time. It is true that in certain of the islands of Melanesia, social organization is no longer on a totemic basis; but in all, totemism is still visible,⁶³⁸ in spite of what Codrington has said about it. Now among these peoples, we find, under the name of mana, an idea which is the exact equivalent of the wakan of the Sioux and the orenda of the Iroquois. The definition given by Codrington is as follows: "There is a belief in a force altogether distinct from physical power, which acts in all ways for good and evil; and which it is of the greatest advantage to possess or control. This is Mana. I think I know what our people mean by it. ... It is a power or influence, not physical and in a way supernatural; but it shows itself in physical force, or in any kind of power or excellence which a man possesses. This mana is not fixed in anything, and can be conveyed in almost anything. ... All Melanesian religion consists, in fact, in getting this mana for one's self, or getting it used for one's benefit."⁶³⁹ Is this not the same notion of an anonymous and diffused force, the germs of which we recently found in the totemism of Australia? Here is the same impersonality; for, as Codrington says, we must be careful not to regard it as a sort of supreme being; any such idea is "absolutely foreign" to Melanesian thought. Here is the same ubiquity; the mana is located nowhere definitely and it is everywhere. All forms of life and all the effects of the action, either of men or of living beings or of simple minerals, are attributed to its influence.⁶⁴⁰

The same idea is found among the Shoshone as pokunt, among the Algonquin as manitou,⁶³⁴ among the Kwakiutl as nauala,⁶³⁵ among the Tlinkit as yek,⁶³⁶ and among the Haida as sgâna.⁶³⁷ But the idea is not unique to the Indians of North America. It was first studied in Melanesia. On certain Melanesian islands, social organization is no longer based on totemism. But totemism is still visible on all the islands,⁶³⁸ despite what Codrington has said. Among these peoples, we find an idea called mana, which is exactly equivalent to the Sioux’s wakan and the Iroquois’ orenda. Codrington defines it as follows: "There is a belief in a force completely distinct from physical power. It acts in every way for good and evil, and possessing or controlling it is a great advantage. This is Mana. I think I know what our people mean by it. ... It is a power or influence that is not physical and is supernatural in a way. But it shows itself in physical force or in any kind of power or excellence a man possesses. Mana is not fixed in anything and can be conveyed in almost anything. ... All Melanesian religion consists, in fact, of gaining mana for oneself or having it used for one’s benefit."⁶³⁹ Is this not the same idea of an anonymous, widespread force? We recently found the beginnings of this idea in Australian totemism. Here, too, the force is impersonal. As Codrington says, we must be careful not to regard mana as a kind of supreme being. Any such idea is "absolutely foreign" to Melanesian thought. Here, too, the force is everywhere. Mana has no fixed location, and it is everywhere. All forms of life and all the effects of actions by humans, living beings, or simple minerals are attributed to its influence.⁶⁴⁰

Therefore there is no undue temerity in attributing to the Australians an idea such as the one we have discovered in our analysis of totemic beliefs, for we find it again, but abstracted and generalized to a higher degree, at the basis of other religions whose roots go back into a system like the Australian one and which visibly bear the mark of this. The two conceptions are obviously related; they differ only in degree, while the mana is diffused into the whole universe, what we call the god or, to speak more precisely, the totemic principle, is localized in the more limited circle of the beings and things of certain species. It is mana, but a little more specialized; yet as a matter of fact, this specialization is quite relative.

Therefore, it is not unduly bold to attribute to the Australians an idea like the one we found in our analysis of totemic beliefs. We find the same idea, more abstract and generalized, at the foundation of other religions. These religions have roots in a system like the Australian one and visibly bear its mark. The two conceptions are obviously related. They differ only in degree. Mana is spread throughout the whole universe. What we call the god, or more precisely, the totemic principle, is confined to a narrower circle of beings and things belonging to certain species. It is mana, but somewhat more specialized. Yet, in fact, this specialization is quite relative.

Moreover, there is one case where this connection is made especially apparent. Among the Omaha, there are totems of all sorts, both individual and collective;⁶⁴¹ but both are only particular forms of wakan. "The foundation of the Indian's faith in the efficacy of the totem," says Miss Fletcher, "rested upon his belief concerning nature and life. This conception was complex and involved two prominent ideas: First, that all things, animate and inanimate, were permeated by a common life; and second, that this life could not be broken, but was continuous."⁶⁴² Now this common principle of life is the wakan. The totem is the means by which an individual is put into relations with this source of energy; if the totem has any powers, it is because it incarnates the wakan. If a man who has violated the interdictions protecting his totem is struck by sickness or death, it is because this mysterious force against which he has thus set himself, that is, the wakan, reacts against him with a force proportionate to the shock received.⁶⁴³ Also, just as the totem is wakan, so the wakan, in its turn, sometimes shows its totemic origin by the way in which it is conceived. In fact, Say says that among the Dakota the "wahconda" is manifested sometimes in the form of a grey bear, sometimes of a bison, a beaver or some other animal.⁶⁴⁴ Undoubtedly, this formula cannot be accepted without reserve. The wakan repels all personification and consequently it is hardly probable that it has ever been thought of in its abstract generality with the aid of such definite symbols. But Say's remark is probably applicable to the particular forms which it takes in specializing itself in the concrete reality of life. Now if there is a possibility that there was a time when these specializations of the wakan bore witness to such an affinity for an animal form, that would be one more proof of the close bonds uniting this conception to the totemic beliefs.⁶⁴⁵

There is one case where this connection is especially clear. Among the Omaha, there are totems of all kinds, both individual and collective.⁶⁴¹ But both are only particular forms of wakan. As Miss Fletcher says, "The Indian's faith in the effectiveness of the totem rested on his beliefs about nature and life. These beliefs were complex and involved two main ideas: First, that a common life permeated all things, animate and inanimate. Second, that this life could not be broken, but was continuous."⁶⁴² This common principle of life is the wakan. The totem is the means by which an individual connects with this source of energy. If the totem has any powers, it is because it embodies the wakan. If a man falls sick or dies after violating the prohibitions protecting his totem, the wakan is responsible. This mysterious force, which he has defied, reacts against him with force proportional to the blow it received.⁶⁴³ Just as the totem is wakan, so the wakan sometimes reveals its totemic origin in the way people conceive it. Say reports that among the Dakota, the "wahconda" appears sometimes in the form of a grey bear, sometimes as a bison, a beaver, or another animal.⁶⁴⁴ This account cannot be accepted without some reservations. The wakan resists personification. So it is hardly likely that people ever conceived of the wakan in its abstract generality through such definite symbols. But Say's remark probably applies to the particular forms the wakan takes in the concrete realities of life. It is possible that these forms of the wakan were at one time so closely associated with animal forms. If so, that would be further proof of the close ties between this conception and totemic beliefs.⁶⁴⁵

It is possible to explain why this idea has been unable to reach the same degree of abstraction in Australia as in the more advanced societies. This is not merely due to the insufficient aptitude of the Australian for abstracting and generalizing: before all, it is the nature of the social environment which has imposed this particularism. In fact, as long as totemism remains at the basis of the cultural organization, the clan keeps an autonomy in the religious society which, though not absolute, is always very marked. Of course we can say that in one sense each totemic group is only a chapel of the tribal Church; but it is a chapel enjoying a large independence. The cult celebrated there, though not a self-sufficing whole, has only external relations with the others; they interchange without intermingling; the totem of the clan is fully sacred only for this clan. Consequently the groups of things attributed to each clan, which are a part of it in the same way the men are, have the same individuality and autonomy. Each of them is represented as irreducible into similar groups, as separated from them by a break of continuity, and as constituting a distinct realm. Under these circumstances, it would occur to no one that these heterogeneous worlds were different manifestations of one and the same fundamental force; on the contrary, one might suppose that each of them corresponded to an organically different mana whose action could not extend beyond the clan and the circle of things attributed to it. The idea of a single and universal mana could be born only at the moment when the tribal religion developed above that of the clans and absorbed them more or less completely. It is along with the feeling of the tribal unity that the feeling of the substantial unity of the world awakens. As we shall presently show,⁶⁴⁶ it is true that the Australian societies are already acquainted with a cult that is common to the tribe as a whole. But if this cult represents the highest form of the Australian religions, it has not succeeded in touching and modifying the principles upon which they repose: totemism is essentially a federative religion which cannot go beyond a certain degree of centralization without ceasing to be itself.

We can explain why this idea has not become as abstract in Australia as in more advanced societies. This is not merely because Australians have limited ability to think abstractly and generalize. Above all, the nature of their social environment has imposed this particularism. As long as totemism remains the basis of cultural organization, the clan keeps considerable autonomy within the religious society. This autonomy is not absolute, but it is always very marked. In one sense, of course, each totemic group is only a chapel within the tribal Church. But it is a chapel with considerable independence. The worship practiced there is not a self-sufficient whole, but it has only external relations with other forms of worship. They interact without mixing, and the clan's totem is fully sacred only to that clan. As a result, the groups of things assigned to each clan have the same individuality and autonomy. These things are part of the clan just as its members are. Each group of things is understood to be distinct from similar groups and not reducible to them. A break in continuity separates each group from the others, making it a distinct realm. Under these circumstances, no one would think that these different worlds were manifestations of one fundamental force. Instead, one might suppose that each world corresponded to a fundamentally different mana. Its power could not extend beyond the clan and the circle of things assigned to it. The idea of a single, universal mana could arise only when the tribal religion developed above the clan religions and absorbed them more or less completely. The sense that the world is essentially one awakens alongside the sense of tribal unity. As we shall soon show,⁶⁴⁶ Australian societies do already have a form of worship common to the whole tribe. But although this worship represents the highest form of Australian religion, it has not changed the principles on which these religions rest. Totemism is essentially a federative religion. It cannot go beyond a certain degree of centralization without ceasing to be itself.

One characteristic fact clearly shows the fundamental reason which has kept the idea of the mana so specialized in Australia. The real religious forces, those thought of in the form of totems, are not the only ones with which the Australian feels himself obliged to reckon. There are also some over which magicians have particular control. While the former are theoretically considered healthful and beneficent, the second have it as their especial function to cause sickness and death. And at the same time that they differ so greatly in the nature of their effects, they are contrasted also by the relations which they sustain with the social organization. A totem is always a matter of the clan; but on the contrary, magic is a tribal and even an intertribal institution. Magic forces do not belong to any special portion of the tribe in particular. All that is needed to make use of them is the possession of efficient recipes. Likewise, everybody is liable to feel their effects and consequently should try to protect himself against them. These are vague forces, specially attached to no determined social division, and even able to spread their action beyond the tribe. Now it is a remarkable fact that among the Arunta and Loritja, they are conceived as simple aspects and particular forms of a unique force, called in Arunta Arungquiltha or Arúnkulta.⁶⁴⁷ "This is a term," say Spencer and Gillen, "of somewhat vague import, but always associated at bottom with the possession of supernatural evil power.... The name is applied indiscriminately to the evil influence or to the object in which it is, for the time being, or permanently, resident."⁶⁴⁸ "By arúnkulta," says Strehlow, "the native signifies a force which suddenly stops life and brings death to all who come in contact with it."⁶⁴⁹ This name is given to the bones and pieces of wood from which evil-working charms are derived, and also to poisonous animals and vegetables. So it may accurately be called a harmful mana. Grey mentions an absolutely identical notion among the tribes he observed.⁶⁵⁰ Thus among these different peoples, while the properly religious forces do not succeed in avoiding a certain heterogeneity, magic forces are thought of as being all of the same nature; the mind represents them in their generic unity. This is because they rise above the social organization and its divisions and subdivisions, and move in a homogeneous and continuous space where they meet with nothing to differentiate them. The others, on the contrary, being localized in definite and distinct social forms, are diversified and particularized in the image of the environment in which they are situated.

One telling fact clearly shows why the idea of mana has remained so specialized in Australia. Australians feel obliged to reckon not only with religious forces, which they think of in the form of totems. There are also forces over which magicians have particular control. In theory, religious forces are considered healthy and beneficial. Magic forces, by contrast, have the special function of causing sickness and death. These forces differ greatly in their effects. They also differ in their relationship to social organization. A totem always belongs to a clan. Magic, on the other hand, is a tribal and even an intertribal institution. Magic forces do not belong to any particular part of the tribe. All that is needed to use them is knowledge of effective recipes. Likewise, everyone is liable to feel their effects and should therefore try to protect themselves against them. These vague forces are not attached to any particular social division. They can even act beyond the tribe. Among the Arunta and Loritja, a remarkable fact emerges. These magic forces are understood as aspects and particular forms of a single force. In Arunta, this force is called Arungquiltha or Arúnkulta.⁶⁴⁷ "This is a term," say Spencer and Gillen, "of somewhat vague import, but always associated at bottom with the possession of supernatural evil power.... The name is applied indiscriminately to the evil influence or to the object in which it is, for the time being, or permanently, resident."⁶⁴⁸ "By arúnkulta," says Strehlow, "the native signifies a force which suddenly stops life and brings death to all who come in contact with it."⁶⁴⁹ The name is given to the bones and pieces of wood used to make harmful charms. It is also given to poisonous animals and plants. So arúnkulta may accurately be called a harmful mana. Grey mentions an absolutely identical idea among the tribes he observed.⁶⁵⁰ Thus, among these different peoples, religious forces remain somewhat varied. Magic forces, however, are all thought to have the same nature. People think of magic forces as a single general kind of force. This is because magic forces rise above social organization and its divisions and subdivisions. They move through a uniform, continuous space where they meet nothing that distinguishes them from one another. Religious forces, by contrast, are located in definite and distinct social forms. They become varied and particular, reflecting the social setting in which they are situated.

From this we can see how thoroughly the idea of an impersonal religious force enters into the meaning and spirit of Australian totemism, for it disengages itself with clarity as soon as no contrary cause opposes it. It is true that the arungquiltha is purely a magic force. But between religious forces and magic forces there is no difference of kind:⁶⁵¹ sometimes they are even designated by the same name: in Melanesia, the magicians and charms have mana just like the agents and rites of the regular cult;⁶⁵² the word oranda is employed in the same way by the Iroquois.⁶⁵³ So we can legitimately infer the nature of the one from that of the other.⁶⁵⁴

This shows how deeply the idea of an impersonal religious force is embedded in the meaning and spirit of Australian totemism. The idea emerges clearly as soon as no opposing cause stands in its way. It is true that arungquiltha is purely a magic force. But religious forces and magic forces do not differ in kind.⁶⁵¹ They are sometimes even called by the same name. In Melanesia, magicians and charms have mana, just like the agents and rites of the regular cult.⁶⁵² The Iroquois use the word oranda in the same way.⁶⁵³ So we can legitimately infer the nature of one kind of force from the other.⁶⁵⁴

The results to which the above analysis has led us do not concern the history of totemism only, but also the genesis of religious thought in general.

The results of this analysis concern not only the history of totemism, but also the origins of religious thought in general.

Under the pretext that in early times men were dominated by their senses and the representations of their senses, it has frequently been held that they commenced by representing the divine in the concrete form of definite and personal beings. The facts do not confirm this presumption. We have just described a systematically united scheme of religious beliefs which we have good reason to regard as very primitive, yet we have met with no personalities of this sort. The real totemic cult is addressed neither to certain determined animals nor to certain vegetables nor even to an animal or vegetable species, but to a vague power spread through these things.⁶⁵⁵ Even in the most advanced religions which have developed out of totemism, such as those which we find among the North American Indians, this idea, instead of being effaced, becomes more conscious of itself; it is declared with a clarity it did not have before, while at the same time, it attains a higher generality. It is this which dominates the entire religious system.

People have often assumed that early humans pictured the divine as concrete, distinct, personal beings. They based this assumption on the idea that early humans were dominated by their senses and sensory images. The facts do not support this assumption. We have just described a unified system of religious beliefs that we have good reason to consider very primitive. Yet we have found no such personal beings. True totemic worship is directed neither at particular animals or plants nor even at an animal or plant species. Instead, it is directed at a vague power spread through these things.⁶⁵⁵ Even in the most advanced religions that developed from totemism, such as those among North American Indians, this idea does not fade away. Instead, it becomes more conscious of itself. It is expressed more clearly than before and becomes more general. This idea dominates the entire religious system.

This is the original matter out of which have been constructed those beings of every sort which the religions of all times have consecrated and adored. The spirits, demons, genii and gods of every sort are only the concrete forms taken by this energy, or "potentiality," as Hewitt calls it,⁶⁵⁶ in individualizing itself, in fixing itself upon a certain determined object or point in space, or in centring around an ideal and legendary being, though one conceived as real by the popular imagination. A Dakota questioned by Miss Fletcher expressed this essential consubstantiability of all sacred things in language that is full of relief. "Every thing as it moves, now and then, here and there, makes stops. The bird as it flies stops in one place to make its nest, and in another to rest in its flight. A man when he goes forth stops when he wills. So the god has stopped. The sun, which is so bright and beautiful, is one place where he has stopped. The trees, the animals, are where he has stopped, and the Indian thinks of these places and sends his prayers to reach the place where the god has stopped and to win help and a blessing."⁶⁵⁷ In other words, the wakan (for this is what he was talking about) comes and goes through the world, and sacred things are the points upon which it alights. Here we are, for once, just as far from naturism as from animism. If the sun, the moon and the stars have been adored, they have not owed this honour to their intrinsic nature or their distinctive properties, but to the fact that they are thought to participate in this force which alone is able to give things a sacred character, and which is also found in a multitude of other beings, even the smallest. If the souls of the dead have been the object of rites, it is not because they are believed to be made out of some fluid and impalpable substance, nor is it because they resemble the shadow cast by a body or its reflection on a surface of water. Lightness and fluidity are not enough to confer sanctity; they have been invested with this dignity only in so far as they contained within them something of this same force, the source of all religiosity.

This is the original substance from which religions in all times have created beings of every kind to honor and worship. Spirits, demons, genii, and gods of every kind are only concrete forms of this energy, or “potentiality,” as Hewitt calls it.⁶⁵⁶ The energy takes these forms when it becomes individual, attaching itself to a particular object or point in space. It also takes such forms when it centers on an ideal, legendary being, though the popular imagination regards that being as real. A Dakota questioned by Miss Fletcher expressed this essential shared substance of all sacred things in vivid language. “Everything that moves stops now and then, here and there. A bird in flight stops in one place to make its nest and in another to rest. A man setting out stops when he wishes. So the god has stopped. The sun, so bright and beautiful, is one place where he has stopped. The trees and animals are places where he has stopped. The Indian thinks of these places and sends his prayers to reach the place where the god has stopped and win help and a blessing.”⁶⁵⁷ In other words, the wakan, which is what he was talking about, comes and goes through the world. Sacred things are the points where it lands. Here, for once, we are as far from naturism as we are from animism. If the sun, moon, and stars have been worshipped, it is not because of their inherent nature or distinctive properties. Rather, they have been worshipped because they are thought to share in this force. This force alone can make things sacred, and it is also found in many other beings, even the smallest. If the souls of the dead have been the object of rites, it is not because they are believed to be made of some fluid, intangible substance. Nor is it because they resemble a body’s shadow or its reflection on water. Lightness and fluidity are not enough to make anything sacred. The souls of the dead have been given this sacred status only because they contained something of the same force, the source of all religiosity.

We are now in a better condition to understand why it has been impossible to define religion by the idea of mythical personalities, gods or spirits; it is because this way of representing religious things is in no way inherent in their nature. What we find at the origin and basis of religious thought are not determined and distinct objects and beings possessing a sacred character of themselves; they are indefinite powers, anonymous forces, more or less numerous in different societies, and sometimes even reduced to a unity, and whose impersonality is strictly comparable to that of the physical forces whose manifestations the sciences of nature study. As for particular sacred things, they are only individualized forms of this essential principle. So it is not surprising that even in the religions where there are avowed divinities, there are rites having an efficient virtue in themselves, independently of all divine intervention. It is because this force may be attached to words that are pronounced or movements that are made just as well as to corporal substances; the voice or the movements may serve as its vehicle, and it may produce its effects through their intermediacy, without the aid of any god or spirit. Even should it happen to concentrate itself especially in a rite, this will become a creator of divinities from that very fact.⁶⁵⁸ This is why there is scarcely a divine personality who does not retain some impersonality. Those who represent it most clearly in a concrete and visible form, think of it, at the same time, as an abstract power which cannot be defined except by its own efficacy, or as a force spread out in space and which is contained, at least in part, in each of its effects. It is the power of producing rain or wind, crops or the light of day; Zeus is in each of the raindrops which falls, just as Ceres is in each of the sheaves of the harvest.⁶⁵⁹ As a general rule, in fact, this efficacy is so imperfectly determined that the believer is able to form only a very vague notion of it. Moreover, it is this indecision which has made possible these syncretisms and duplications in the course of which gods are broken up, dismembered and confused in every way. Perhaps there is not a single religion in which the original mana, whether unique or multiform, has been resolved entirely into a clearly defined number of beings who are distinct and separate from each other; each of them always retains a touch of impersonality, as it were, which enables it to enter into new combinations, not as the result of a simple survival but because it is the nature of religious forces to be unable to individualize themselves completely.

We are now better able to understand why religion cannot be defined by the idea of mythical beings, gods, or spirits. This way of representing religious things is not inherent in their nature. At the origin and foundation of religious thought, we find no definite, distinct objects or beings that are sacred in themselves. Instead, we find indefinite powers and anonymous forces. Their number varies between societies, and sometimes they are even reduced to a single force. These powers are impersonal, just like the physical forces whose effects the natural sciences study. Individual sacred things are simply particular forms of this basic principle. So it is not surprising that even religions with recognized gods have rites that are effective in themselves, without divine intervention. This force can be attached to spoken words or physical movements just as it can be attached to material substances. The voice or movements can carry the force, which can produce effects through them without help from any god or spirit. If the force becomes especially concentrated in a rite, that rite will, for that very reason, create gods.⁶⁵⁸ This is why hardly any god is entirely personal. Even those who picture a god most clearly in a concrete, visible form also think of it as an abstract power. That power can be defined only by what it does. Or they think of the god as a force spread through space and present, at least in part, in each of its effects. It is the power to produce rain or wind, crops or daylight. Zeus is in every falling raindrop, just as Ceres is in every sheaf of the harvest.⁶⁵⁹ In general, the effects of this power are so poorly defined that believers can form only a very vague idea of it. Moreover, this lack of definition has made possible the blending and duplication of gods. In these processes, gods are broken up, divided, and mixed together in every way. Perhaps there is not a single religion in which the original mana, whether one or many, has been entirely resolved into a clearly defined number of separate, distinct beings. Each always retains, so to speak, a trace of impersonality that allows it to enter into new combinations. This is not simply a survival from the past. Rather, it is because religious forces, by their nature, cannot become completely individual.

This conception, to which we have been led by the study of totemism alone, has the additional recommendation that many scholars have recently adopted it quite independently of one another, as a conclusion from very different sorts of studies. There is a tendency towards a spontaneous agreement on this point which should be remarked, for it is a presumption of objectivity.

Our study of totemism alone has led us to this idea. It is also supported by the fact that many scholars have recently reached the same conclusion independently through very different kinds of study. This emerging, spontaneous agreement is worth noting because it suggests that the idea is objective.

As early as 1899, we pointed out the impossibility of making the idea of a mythical personality enter into the definition of religious phenomena.⁶⁶⁰ In 1900, Marrett showed the existence of a religious phase which he called preanimistic, in which the rites are addressed to impersonal forces like the Melanesian mana and the wakan of the Omaha and Dakota.⁶⁶¹ However, Marrett did not go so far as to maintain that always and in every case the idea of a spirit is logically and chronologically posterior to that of mana and is derived from it; he even seemed disposed to admit that it has sometimes appeared independently and consequently, that religious thought flows from a double source.⁶⁶² On the other hand, he conceived the mana as an inherent property of things, as an element of their appearance; for, according to him, this is simply the character which we attribute to everything out of the ordinary, and which inspires a sentiment of fear or admiration.⁶⁶³ This practically amounts to a return to the naturist theory.⁶⁶⁴

As early as 1899, we pointed out that religious phenomena cannot be defined by the idea of a mythical personality.⁶⁶⁰ In 1900, Marrett showed that there was a religious phase he called preanimistic. In this phase, rites are addressed to impersonal forces such as Melanesian mana and the wakan of the Omaha and Dakota.⁶⁶¹ However, Marrett did not claim that the idea of a spirit always and in every case comes after the idea of mana, either logically or chronologically, and is derived from it. He even seemed willing to accept that the idea of a spirit has sometimes appeared independently. If so, religious thought would have two sources.⁶⁶² On the other hand, he saw mana as a property inherent in things, an element of their appearance. For Marrett, mana is simply the quality we attribute to everything out of the ordinary that inspires fear or admiration.⁶⁶³ This view practically amounts to a return to the naturist theory.⁶⁶⁴

A little later, MM. Hubert and Mauss, while attempting to formulate a general theory of magic, established the fact that magic as a whole reposes on the notion of mana.⁶⁶⁵ The close kinship of the magic rite and the religious rite being known, it was even possible to foresee that the same theory should be applied to religion. This was sustained by Preuss in a series of articles in the Globus⁶⁶⁶ that same year. Relying chiefly upon facts taken from American civilizations, Preuss set out to prove that the ideas of the soul and spirit were not developed until after those of power and impersonal force, that the former are only a transformation of the latter, and that up to a relatively late date they retain the marks of their original impersonality. In fact, he shows that even in the advanced religions, they are represented in the form of vague emanations disengaging themselves automatically from the things in which they reside, and even tending to escape by all the ways that are open to them: the mouth, the nose and all the other openings of the body, the breath, the look, the word, etc. At the same time, Preuss pointed out their Protean forms and their extreme plasticity which permits them to give themselves successively and almost concurrently to the most varied uses.⁶⁶⁷ It is true that if we stick to the letter of the terminology employed by this author, we may believe that for him the forces have a magic, not a religious nature: he calls them charms (Zauber, Zauberkräfte). But it is evident that in expressing himself thus, he does not intend to put them outside of religion; for it is in the essentially religious rites that he shows their action, for example, in the great Mexican ceremonies.⁶⁶⁸ If he uses these expressions, it is undoubtedly because he knows no others which mark better the impersonality of these forces and the sort of mechanism with which they operate.

A little later, MM. Hubert and Mauss attempted to develop a general theory of magic. They established that magic as a whole rests on the idea of mana.⁶⁶⁵ Given the close connection between magical and religious rites, one could even foresee that the same theory would be applied to religion. Preuss argued for this in a series of articles in Globus⁶⁶⁶ that same year. Drawing chiefly on evidence from American civilizations, Preuss set out to prove that ideas of the soul and spirit developed only after ideas of power and impersonal force. He argued that the former are merely transformations of the latter, and that they retain traces of their original impersonality until relatively late. In fact, Preuss shows that even advanced religions represent souls and spirits as vague emanations. These emanations emerge automatically from the things in which they reside. They even tend to escape through every available route: the mouth, the nose, and all the other openings of the body, the breath, the look, the word, and so on. Preuss also pointed out their ever-changing forms and extreme flexibility. This flexibility allows them to serve the most varied purposes in succession and almost at the same time.⁶⁶⁷ True, if we follow Preuss’s terminology literally, we may think that he regards these forces as magical rather than religious. He calls them charms (Zauber, Zauberkräfte). But clearly, he does not mean to place them outside religion. He shows them at work in essentially religious rites, such as the great Mexican ceremonies.⁶⁶⁸ He undoubtedly uses these expressions because he knows of no others that better convey the impersonality of these forces and the somewhat mechanical way they operate.

Thus this same idea tends to come to light on every side.⁶⁶⁹ The impression becomes more and more prevalent that even the most elementary mythological constructions are secondary products⁶⁷⁰ which cover over a system of beliefs, at once simpler and more obscure, vaguer and more essential, which form the solid foundations upon which the religious systems are built. It is this primitive foundation which our analysis of totemism has enabled us to reach. The various writers whose studies we have just mentioned arrived at this conclusion only through facts taken from very diverse religions, some of which even correspond to a civilization that is already far advanced: such is the case, for example, with the Mexican religions, of which Preuss makes great use. So it might be asked if this theory is equally applicable to the most simple religions. But since it is impossible to go lower than totemism, we are not exposed to this risk of error, and at the same time, we have an opportunity of finding the initial notion from which the ideas of wakan and mana are derived: this is the notion of the totemic principle.⁶⁷¹

The same idea is therefore emerging from all sides.⁶⁶⁹ A view is becoming more widespread: even the simplest mythological constructions are secondary products.⁶⁷⁰ They cover a system of beliefs that is simpler and more obscure, vaguer and more essential. These beliefs form the solid foundation on which religious systems are built. Our analysis of totemism has allowed us to reach this primitive foundation. The writers whose studies we have just discussed reached this conclusion using evidence from many different religions. Some of those religions belong to civilizations that are already far advanced. For example, Preuss draws heavily on the Mexican religions. So one might ask whether the theory also applies to the simplest religions. But since it is impossible to go lower than totemism, we do not face this risk of error. At the same time, we have an opportunity to find the original notion from which the ideas of wakan and mana come. This is the notion of the totemic principle.⁶⁷¹

But this notion is not only of primary importance because of the rôle it has played in the development of religious ideas; it also has a lay aspect in which it is of interest for the history of scientific thought. It is the first form of the idea of force.

But this idea is important not only because of its role in the development of religious ideas. It also has a secular aspect that is relevant to the history of scientific thought. It is the first form of the idea of force.

In fact, the wakan plays the same rôle in the world, as the Sioux conceives it, as the one played by the forces with which science explains the diverse phenomena of nature. This, however, does not mean that it is thought of as an exclusively physical energy; on the contrary, in the next chapter we shall see that the elements going to make up this idea are taken from the most diverse realms. But this very compositeness of its nature enables it to be utilized as a universal principle of explanation. It is from it that all life comes;⁶⁷² "all life is wakan"; and by this word life, we must understand everything that acts and reacts, that moves and is moved, in both the mineral and biological kingdoms. The wakan is the cause of all the movements which take place in the universe. We have even seen that the orenda of the Iroquois is "the efficient cause of all the phenomena and all the activities which are manifested around men." It is a power "inherent in all bodies and all things."⁶⁷³ It is the orenda which makes the wind blow, the sun lighten and heat the earth, or animals reproduce and which makes men strong, clever and intelligent. When the Iroquois says that the life of all nature is the product of the conflicts aroused between the unequally intense orenda of the different beings, he only expresses, in his own language, this modern idea that the world is a system of forces limiting and containing each other and making an equilibrium.

In fact, wakan plays the same role in the Sioux understanding of the world as the forces science uses to explain nature's various phenomena. This does not mean, however, that wakan is thought of as an exclusively physical energy. On the contrary, the next chapter will show that the idea draws on elements from many different realms. But this very combination of elements allows wakan to serve as a universal principle of explanation. All life comes from wakan.⁶⁷² "All life is wakan." Here, life means everything that acts and reacts, that moves and is moved, in both the mineral and biological kingdoms. Wakan causes all the movements that take place in the universe. We have even seen that the Iroquois orenda is "the efficient cause of all the phenomena and all the activities which are manifested around men." It is a power "inherent in all bodies and all things."⁶⁷³ Orenda makes the wind blow, the sun light and heat the earth, and animals reproduce. It also makes people strong, clever, and intelligent. The Iroquois says that all life in nature results from conflicts between the differently powerful orenda of different beings. In his own language, he is expressing the modern idea that the world is a system of forces that limit and restrain one another, creating an equilibrium.

The Melanesian attributes this same general efficacy to his mana. It is owing to his mana that a man succeeds in hunting or fighting, that gardens give a good return or that flocks prosper. If an arrow strikes its mark, it is because it is charged with mana; it is the same cause which makes a net catch fish well, or a canoe ride well on the sea,⁶⁷⁴ etc. It is true that if certain phrases of Codrington are taken literally, mana should be the cause to which is attributed "everything which is beyond the ordinary power of men, outside the common processes of nature."⁶⁷⁵ But from the very examples which he cites, it is quite evident that the sphere of the mana is really much more extended. In reality, it serves to explain usual and everyday phenomena; there is nothing superhuman or supernatural in the fact that a ship sails or a hunter catches game, etc. However, among these events of daily life, there are some so insignificant and familiar that they pass unperceived: they are not noticed and consequently no need is felt of explaining them. The concept of mana is applied only to those that are important enough to cause reflection, and to awaken a minimum of interest and curiosity; but they are not marvellous for all that. And what is true of the mana as well as the orenda and wakan, may be said equally well of the totemic principle. It is through this that the life of the men of the clan and the animals or plants of the totemic species, as well as all the things which are classified under the totem and partake of its nature, is manifested.

The Melanesian attributes the same general power to his mana. His mana enables him to succeed in hunting or fighting, makes gardens yield good harvests, and makes flocks prosper. If an arrow hits its target, it is because the arrow is charged with mana. The same cause makes a net catch fish well or a canoe ride well on the sea,⁶⁷⁴ and so on. It is true that, if certain phrases of Codrington are taken literally, mana is the cause credited with "everything which is beyond the ordinary power of men, outside the common processes of nature."⁶⁷⁵ But his own examples make it clear that mana really has a much wider scope. In fact, mana serves to explain ordinary, everyday phenomena. There is nothing superhuman or supernatural about a ship sailing or a hunter catching game, for example. Yet some everyday events are so insignificant and familiar that they pass unnoticed. People do not notice them, so they feel no need to explain them. The concept of mana applies only to events important enough to make people think and arouse some interest and curiosity. But those events are not necessarily marvelous. What is true of mana, as well as of orenda and wakan, may also be said of the totemic principle. It is through this principle that the life of the clan's members and of the animals or plants of the totemic species is manifested. The same is true of all things classified under the totem that share its nature.

So the idea of force is of religious origin. It is from religion that it has been borrowed, first by philosophy, then by the sciences. This has already been foreseen by Comte and this is why he made metaphysics the heir of "theology." But he concluded from this that the idea of force is destined to disappear from science; for, owing to its mystic origins, he refused it all objective value. But we are going to show that, on the contrary, religious forces are real, howsoever imperfect the symbols may be, by the aid of which they are thought of. From this it will follow that the same is true of the concept of force in general.

So the idea of force has a religious origin. Philosophy first borrowed it from religion, followed by the sciences. Comte had already anticipated this, which is why he made metaphysics the heir of "theology." But he concluded that the idea of force was destined to disappear from science. Because of its mystical origins, he denied that it had any objective value. We will show, on the contrary, that religious forces are real, however imperfect the symbols used to conceive them may be. It will follow that the same is true of the concept of force in general.