The Soul

In the preceding chapters we have been studying the fundamental principles of the totemic religion. We have seen that no idea of soul or spirit or mythical personality is to be found among these. Yet, even if the idea of spiritual beings is not at the foundation of totemism or, consequently, of religious thought in general, still, there is no religion where this notion is not met with. So it is important to see how it is formed. To make sure that it is the product of a secondary formation, we must discover the way in which it is derived from the more essential conceptions which we have just described and explained.

In the preceding chapters, we have studied the basic principles of totemic religion. We have seen that these principles contain no idea of a soul, spirit, or mythical personality. Yet even if the idea of spiritual beings is not the foundation of totemism, or therefore of religious thought in general, every religion has this idea. So it is important to see how the idea forms. To establish that it develops later, we must discover how it comes from the more essential ideas we have just described and explained.

Among the various spiritual beings, there is one which should receive our attention first of all because it is the prototype after which the others have been constructed: this is the soul.

Of the various spiritual beings, the soul deserves our attention first. It is the model on which the others were based.

Just as there is no known society without a religion, so there exist none, howsoever crudely organized they may be, where we do not find a whole system of collective representations concerning the soul, its origin and its destiny. So far as we are able to judge from the data of ethnology, the idea of the soul seems to have been contemporaneous with humanity itself, and it seems to have had all of its essential characteristics so well formulated at the very outset that the work of the more advanced religions and philosophy has been practically confined to refining it, while adding nothing that is really fundamental. In fact, all the Australian societies admit that every human body shelters an interior being, the principle of the life which animates it: this is the soul. It sometimes happens, it is true, that women form an exception to this general rule: there are tribes where they are believed to have no souls.⁷³⁹ If Dawson is to be believed, it is the same with young children in the tribes that he has observed.⁷⁴⁰ But these are exceptional and probably late cases;⁷⁴¹ the last one even seems to be suspect and may well be due to an erroneous interpretation of the facts.⁷⁴²

Just as no society is known to be without a religion, none is without a whole system of shared beliefs about the soul, its origin, and its destiny. This is true no matter how simply the society is organized. As far as the evidence from ethnology allows us to judge, the idea of the soul seems to be as old as humanity itself. Its essential features seem to have been so well established from the start that more advanced religions and philosophy have done little more than refine it, adding nothing truly fundamental. In fact, all Australian societies accept that every human body contains an inner being, the source of the life that animates it. This inner being is the soul. Women are sometimes an exception to this general rule. Some tribes believe that women have no souls.⁷³⁹ If Dawson is to be believed, the same is true of young children in the tribes he observed.⁷⁴⁰ But these cases are exceptional and probably arose later.⁷⁴¹ The last case even seems doubtful and may be due to a mistaken interpretation of the facts.⁷⁴²

It is not easy to determine the idea which the Australian makes of the soul, because it is so obscure and floating; but we should not be surprised at this. If someone asked our own contemporaries, or even those of them who believe most firmly in the existence of the soul, how they represented it, the replies that he would receive would not have much more coherence and precision. This is because we are dealing with a very complex notion, into which a multitude of badly analysed impressions enter, whose elaboration has been carried on for centuries, though men have had no clear consciousness of it. Yet from this come the most essential, though frequently contradictory, characteristics by which it is defined.

It is not easy to determine how an Australian understands the soul, because the idea is so vague and shifting. But this should not surprise us. Suppose someone asked people today how they imagine the soul, even those who believe most firmly that it exists. Their answers would not be much more coherent or precise. This is because the idea of the soul is very complex. It includes many impressions that have not been carefully examined. The idea has taken shape over centuries, though people have not been clearly aware of this process. Yet this process has given the soul its most essential features, even though they often contradict one another.

In some cases they tell us that it has the external appearance of the body.⁷⁴³ But sometimes it is also represented as having the size of a grain of sand; its dimensions are so reduced that it can pass through the smallest crevices or the finest tissues.⁷⁴⁴ We shall also see that it is represented in the appearance of animals. This shows that its form is essentially inconsistent and undetermined;⁷⁴⁵ it varies from one moment to another with the demands of circumstances or according to the exigencies of the myth and the rite. The substance out of which it is made is no less indefinable. It is not without matter, for it has a form, howsoever vague this may be. And in fact, even during this life, it has physical needs: it eats, and inversely, it may be eaten. Sometimes it leaves the body, and in the course of its travels it occasionally nourishes itself on foreign souls.⁷⁴⁶ After it has once been completely freed from the organism, it is thought to lead a life absolutely analogous to the one it led in this world; it eats, drinks, hunts, etc.⁷⁴⁷ When it flutters among the branches of trees, it causes rustlings and crackings which even profane ears hear.⁷⁴⁸ But at the same time, it is believed to be invisible to the vulgar.⁷⁴⁹ It is true that magicians or old men have the faculty of seeing souls; but it is in virtue of special powers which they owe either to age or to a special training that they perceive things which escape our senses. According to Dawson, ordinary individuals enjoy the same privilege at only one moment of their existence: when they are on the eve of a premature death. Therefore this quasi-miraculous vision is considered a sinister omen. Now, invisibility is generally considered one of the signs of spirituality. So the soul is conceived as being immaterial to a certain degree, for it does not affect the senses in the way bodies do: it has no bones, as the tribes of the Tully River say.⁷⁵⁰ In order to conciliate all these opposed characteristics, they represent it as made of some infinitely rare and subtle matter, like something ethereal,⁷⁵¹ and comparable to a shadow or breath.⁷⁵²

In some cases, we are told that the soul looks like the body.⁷⁴³ But sometimes it is also described as the size of a grain of sand. It is so small that it can pass through the tiniest cracks or the finest tissues.⁷⁴⁴ We shall also see that the soul is described as taking the form of animals. This shows that its form is essentially changeable and undefined.⁷⁴⁵ It varies from moment to moment as circumstances, myths, or rites require. The substance of which the soul is made is just as hard to define. It is not without matter, because it has a form, however vague. In fact, even during life, it has physical needs. It eats, and it can also be eaten. Sometimes it leaves the body. During its travels, it occasionally feeds on other souls.⁷⁴⁶ Once it has been completely freed from the body, it is thought to lead a life just like its life in this world. It eats, drinks, hunts, and so on.⁷⁴⁷ When it flutters among the branches of trees, it causes rustling and cracking sounds that even ordinary people can hear.⁷⁴⁸ But at the same time, ordinary people are believed to be unable to see it.⁷⁴⁹ Magicians and older people can see souls. But they do so through special powers gained either from age or from special training. These powers let them perceive things that escape our senses. According to Dawson, ordinary people have the same ability at only one moment in their lives: when they are about to die prematurely. This almost miraculous vision is therefore considered a sinister omen. Now, invisibility is generally considered a sign of spirituality. So the soul is understood to be immaterial to some degree. It does not affect the senses as bodies do. As the tribes of the Tully River say, it has no bones.⁷⁵⁰ To reconcile all these opposing qualities, people describe it as made of an infinitely rare and subtle matter. It is something ethereal,⁷⁵¹ comparable to a shadow or breath.⁷⁵²

It is distinct and independent of the body, for during this life it can leave it at any moment. It does leave it during sleep, fainting spells, etc.⁷⁵³ It may even remain absent for some time without entailing death; however, during these absences life is weakened and even stops if the soul does not return home.⁷⁵⁴ But it is especially at death that this distinction and independence manifest themselves with the greatest clarity. While the body no longer exists and no visible traces of it remain, the soul continues to live: it leads an autonomous existence in another world.

The soul is separate from the body and independent of it, because it can leave the body at any moment during life. It does leave during sleep, fainting spells, and so on.⁷⁵³ It may even stay away for some time without causing death. But life is weakened during these absences, and it stops altogether if the soul does not return to the body.⁷⁵⁴ This separation and independence are clearest at death. Even when the body no longer exists and no visible traces of it remain, the soul continues to live. It exists independently in another world.

But howsoever real this duality may be, it is in no way absolute. It would show a grave misunderstanding to represent the body as a sort of habitat in which the soul resides, but with which it has only external relations. Quite on the contrary, it is united to it by the closest bonds; it is separable from it only imperfectly and with difficulty. We have already seen that it has, or at least is able to have, its external aspect. Consequently, everything that hurts the one hurts the other; every wound of the body spreads to the soul.⁷⁵⁵ It is so intimately associated with the life of the organism that it grows with it and decays with it. This is why a man who has attained a certain age enjoys privileges refused to young men; it is because the religious principle within him has acquired greater force and efficacy as he has advanced in life. But when senility sets in, and the old man is no longer able to take a useful part in the great religious ceremonies in which the vital interests of the tribe are concerned, this respect is no longer accorded to him. It is thought that weakness of the body is communicated to the soul. Having the same powers no longer, he no longer has a right to the same prestige.⁷⁵⁶

However real this duality may be, it is not absolute. It would be a serious mistake to picture the body as merely a dwelling for the soul, connected to it only externally. On the contrary, the soul is bound to the body by the closest ties. It can be separated from the body only partially and with difficulty. We have already seen that the soul has, or at least can have, an outward form. As a result, whatever hurts the body or the soul hurts the other. Every wound to the body affects the soul.⁷⁵⁵ The soul is so closely tied to the life of the body that it grows and declines along with it. That is why a man who has reached a certain age enjoys privileges denied to younger men. As he has grown older, the religious principle within him has gained strength and power. But when old age weakens him, he can no longer play a useful part in the great religious ceremonies that concern the tribe's vital interests. Then he is no longer shown the same respect. People believe that weakness in the body passes to the soul. Since he no longer has the same powers, he is no longer entitled to the same prestige.⁷⁵⁶

There is not only a close union of soul and body, but there is also a partial confusion of the two. Just as there is something of the body in the soul, since it sometimes reproduces its form, so there is something of the soul in the body. Certain regions and certain products of the organism are believed to have a special affinity with it: such is the case with the heart, the breath, the placenta,⁷⁵⁷ the blood,⁷⁵⁸ the shadow,⁷⁵⁹ the liver, the fat of the liver, the kidneys,⁷⁶⁰ etc. These various material substrata are not mere habitations of the soul; they are the soul itself seen from without. When blood flows, the soul escapes with it. The soul is not in the breath; it is the breath. It and the part of the body where it resides are only one. Hence comes the conception according to which a man has a number of souls. Being dispersed in various parts of the organism, the soul is differentiated and broken up into fragments. Each organ has individualized, as it were, the portion of the soul which it contains, and which has thus become a distinct entity. The soul of the heart could not be that of the breath or the shadow or the placenta. While they are all related, still they are to be distinguished, and even have different names.⁷⁶¹

The soul and body are not only closely connected, but also partly overlap. Just as the soul has something of the body in it, since it sometimes takes the body’s form, the body has something of the soul in it. Certain parts and products of the body are believed to have a special connection with the soul. These include the heart, the breath, the placenta,⁷⁵⁷ the blood,⁷⁵⁸ the shadow,⁷⁵⁹ the liver, the fat of the liver, the kidneys,⁷⁶⁰ and so on. These different physical substances are not merely places where the soul lives. They are the soul itself as seen from the outside. When blood flows, the soul escapes with it. The soul is not in the breath. It is the breath. The soul and the part of the body where it resides are one. This gives rise to the idea that a man has several souls. Because the soul is spread throughout the body, it becomes divided into different fragments. Each organ, as it were, gives a separate identity to the portion of the soul it contains. This portion thus becomes a distinct entity. The soul of the heart cannot be the same as the soul of the breath, shadow, or placenta. Although all these souls are related, they are distinct and even have different names.⁷⁶¹

Moreover, even if the soul is localized especially in certain parts of the organism, it is not absent from the others. In varying degrees, it is diffused through the whole body, as is well shown by the funeral rites. After the last breath has been expired and the soul is believed to be gone, it seems as though it should profit by the liberty thus regained, to move about at will and to return as quickly as possible to its real home, which is elsewhere. Nevertheless, it remains near to the corpse; the bond uniting them has been loosened, but not broken. A whole series of special rites are necessary to induce it to depart definitely. It is invited to go by gestures and significant movements.⁷⁶² The way is laid open for it, and outlets are arranged so that it can go more easily.⁷⁶³ This is because it has not left the body entirely; it was too closely united to it to break away all at once. Hence comes the very frequent rite of funeral anthropophagy; the flesh of the dead is eaten because it is thought to contain a sacred principle, which is really nothing more than the soul.⁷⁶⁴ In order to drive it out definitely, the flesh is melted, either by submitting it to the heat of the sun,⁷⁶⁵ or to that of an artificial fire.⁷⁶⁶ The soul departs with the liquids which result. But even the dry bones still retain some part of it. Therefore they can be used as sacred objects or instruments of magic;⁷⁶⁷ or if someone wishes to give complete liberty to the principle which they contain, he breaks these.⁷⁶⁸

Moreover, even if the soul is located mainly in certain parts of the body, it is not absent from the others. It is spread throughout the body in varying degrees, as funeral rites clearly show. After the last breath, the soul is believed to have left. It might seem that the soul would take advantage of its regained freedom to move about as it wished. It might also seem that it would return as quickly as possible to its real home, which is elsewhere. Nevertheless, the soul remains near the corpse. The bond between them has loosened, but it has not broken. A whole series of special rites is needed to persuade the soul to leave for good. Gestures and meaningful movements invite it to go.⁷⁶² A path is opened for it, and exits are made so that it can leave more easily.⁷⁶³ These rites are needed because the soul has not left the body entirely. It was too closely bound to the body to break away all at once. This explains the very common rite of funeral cannibalism. The flesh of the dead is eaten because it is thought to contain a sacred principle, which is really nothing more than the soul.⁷⁶⁴ To drive the soul out for good, the flesh is melted, either by the heat of the sun⁷⁶⁵ or by an artificial fire.⁷⁶⁶ The soul leaves with the resulting liquids. But even the dry bones still retain some part of the soul. Therefore, the bones can be used as sacred objects or instruments of magic.⁷⁶⁷ Or, if someone wishes to set the principle they contain completely free, they break the bones.⁷⁶⁸

But a moment does arrive when the final separation is accomplished; the liberated soul takes flight. But by nature it is so intimately associated with the body that this removal cannot take place without a profound change in its condition. So it takes a new name also.⁷⁶⁹ Although keeping all the distinctive traits of the individual whom it animated, his humours and his good and bad qualities,⁷⁷⁰ still it has become a new being. From that moment a new existence commences for it.

But eventually the final separation takes place, and the freed soul takes flight. By nature, however, the soul is so closely tied to the body that it cannot leave without undergoing a profound change. So it also takes a new name.⁷⁶⁹ It retains all the distinctive traits of the individual it once gave life to, including his moods and his good and bad qualities.⁷⁷⁰ Yet it has become a new being. From that moment, a new existence begins for the soul.

It goes to the land of souls. This land is conceived differently by different tribes; sometimes different conceptions are found existing side by side in the same society. For some, it is situated under the earth, where each totemic group has its part. This is at the spot where the first ancestors, the founders of the clan, entered the ground at a certain time, and where they live since their death. In the subterranean world there is a geographical disposition of the dead corresponding to that of the living. There, the sun always shines and rivers flow which never run dry. Such is the conception which Spencer and Gillen attribute to the central tribes, Arunta,⁷⁷¹ Warramunga,⁷⁷² etc. It is found again among the Wotjobaluk.⁷⁷³ In other places, all the dead, no matter what their totems may have been, are believed to live together in the same place, which is more or less vaguely localized as beyond the sea, in an island,⁷⁷⁴ or on the shores of a lake.⁷⁷⁵ Sometimes, finally, it is into the sky, beyond the clouds, that the souls are thought to go. "There," says Dawson, "there is a delectable land, abounding in kangaroos and game of every sort, where men lead a happy life. Souls meet again there and recognize one another."⁷⁷⁶ It is probable that certain of the features of this picture have been taken from the paradise of the Christian missionaries;⁷⁷⁷ but the idea that souls, or at least some souls, enter the skies after death appears to be quite indigenous; for it is found again in other parts of the continent.⁷⁷⁸

It goes to the land of souls. Different tribes imagine this land in different ways. Sometimes different ideas exist side by side in the same society. For some tribes, the land lies underground, where each totemic group has its own area. Each area is at the spot where the first ancestors, the founders of the clan, once entered the ground. They have lived there since their death. In the underground world, the dead are distributed geographically in the same way as the living. There, the sun always shines and rivers flow without ever running dry. Spencer and Gillen attribute this belief to the central tribes, Arunta,⁷⁷¹ Warramunga,⁷⁷² and others. It is also found among the Wotjobaluk.⁷⁷³ Elsewhere, all the dead are believed to live together in the same place, regardless of their totems. This place is located more or less vaguely beyond the sea, on an island,⁷⁷⁴ or on the shores of a lake.⁷⁷⁵ Finally, some believe that souls go into the sky, beyond the clouds. "There," says Dawson, "there is a delightful land, full of kangaroos and game of every kind, where people lead happy lives. Souls meet there again and recognize one another."⁷⁷⁶ Some features of this picture were probably taken from the paradise of the Christian missionaries.⁷⁷⁷ But the idea that souls, or at least some souls, enter the sky after death seems to be truly indigenous. It is also found in other parts of the continent.⁷⁷⁸

In general, all the souls meet the same fate and lead the same life. However, a different treatment is sometimes accorded them based on the way they have conducted themselves upon earth, and we can see the first outlines of these two distinct and even opposed compartments into which the world to come will later be divided. The souls of those who have excelled, during life, as hunters, warriors, dancers, etc., are not confounded with the common horde of the others; a special place is granted to them.⁷⁷⁹ Sometimes, this is the sky.⁷⁸⁰ Strehlow even says that according to one myth, the souls of the wicked are devoured by dreadful spirits, and destroyed.⁷⁸¹ Nevertheless, these conceptions always remain very vague in Australia;⁷⁸² they begin to have a clarity and determination only in the more advanced societies, such as those of America.⁷⁸³

In general, all souls meet the same fate and lead the same life. However, souls are sometimes treated differently based on how they behaved on earth. We can see the first outlines of two distinct, even opposed, divisions into which the next world will later be divided. The souls of those who excelled in life as hunters, warriors, dancers, and so on are kept apart from the common horde of other souls. They are given a special place.⁷⁷⁹ Sometimes, this place is the sky.⁷⁸⁰ Strehlow even says that, according to one myth, the souls of the wicked are devoured and destroyed by dreadful spirits.⁷⁸¹ Nevertheless, these ideas always remain very vague in Australia.⁷⁸² They begin to take clear and definite shape only in more advanced societies, such as those of America.⁷⁸³

Such are the beliefs relative to the soul and its destiny, in their most primitive form, and reduced to their most essential traits. We must now attempt to explain them. What is it that has been able to lead men into thinking that there are two beings in them, one of which possesses these very special characteristics which we have just enumerated? To find the reply to this question, let us begin by seeking the origin attributed to this spiritual principle by the primitive himself: if it is well analysed, his own conception will put us on the way towards the solution.

These are the beliefs about the soul and its destiny in their most primitive form, reduced to their essential features. We must now try to explain them. What led people to believe that two beings exist within them, one with the special characteristics we have just described? To answer this question, let us first ask where primitive people themselves believed this spiritual principle came from. If we carefully analyze their own conception, it will put us on the path to an answer.

Following out the method which we have set before ourselves, we shall study these ideas in a determined group of societies where they have been observed with an especial precision; these are the tribes of Central Australia. Though not narrow, the area of our observations will be limited. But there is good reason for believing that these same ideas are quite generally held, in various forms, even outside of Australia. It is also to be noted that the idea of the soul, as it is found among these central tribes, does not differ specifically from the one found in other tribes; it has the same essential characteristics everywhere. As one effect always has the same cause, we may well think that this idea, which is everywhere the same, does not result from one cause here and another there. So the origin which we shall be led to attribute to it as a result of our study of these particular tribes with which we are going to deal, ought to be equally true for the others. These tribes will give us a chance to make an experiment, as it were, whose results, like those of every well-made experiment, are susceptible of generalization. The homogeneity of the Australian civilization would of itself be enough to justify this generalization; but we shall be careful to verify it afterwards with facts taken from other peoples, both in Australia and America.

Following the method we have set out, we will study these ideas among a particular group of societies: the tribes of Central Australia. These ideas have been observed with particular precision among those tribes. Although our observations will cover a broad area, their scope will be limited. But there is good reason to believe that the same ideas are widely held in various forms, even outside Australia. The idea of the soul among the central tribes is not essentially different from the idea found in other tribes. It has the same essential characteristics everywhere. The same effect always has the same cause. So we may reasonably think that this idea, which is the same everywhere, does not have one cause here and another elsewhere. Our study of these particular tribes will lead us to identify the origin of the idea of the soul. That account of its origin should apply equally to other tribes. Studying these tribes will give us a chance to conduct an experiment, as it were. Like the results of any well-designed experiment, its results can be generalized. The uniformity of Australian civilization would by itself be enough to justify this generalization. But we will also take care to check it afterward against facts drawn from other peoples, both in Australia and America.

As the conceptions which are going to furnish us with the basis of our demonstration have been reported in different terms by Spencer and Gillen on the one hand and Strehlow on the other, we must give these two versions one after the other. We shall see that when they are well understood, they differ in form more than in matter, and that they both have the same sociological significance.

Spencer and Gillen describe the ideas that will form the basis of our argument differently from Strehlow. We must therefore present each account in turn. We shall see that, properly understood, the two accounts differ more in form than in substance. Both have the same sociological significance.

According to Spencer and Gillen, the souls which, in each generation, come to animate the bodies of newly-born children, are not special and original creations; all these tribes hold that there is a definite stock of souls, whose number cannot be augmented at all,⁷⁸⁴ and which reincarnate themselves periodically. When an individual dies, his soul quits the body in which it dwelt, and after the mourning is accomplished, it goes to the land of the souls; but after a certain length of time, it returns to incarnate itself again, and these reincarnations are the cause of conception and birth. At the beginning of things, it was these fundamental souls which animated the first ancestors, the founders of the clan. At an epoch, beyond which the imagination does not go and which is considered the very beginning of time, there were certain beings who were not derived from any others. For this reason, the Arunta call them the Altjirangamitjina,⁷⁸⁵ the uncreated ones, those who exist from all eternity, and, according to Spencer and Gillen, they give the name Alcheringa⁷⁸⁶ to the period when these fabulous beings are thought to have lived. Being organized in totemic clans just as the men of to-day are, they passed their time in travels, in the course of which they accomplished all sorts of prodigious actions, the memory of which is preserved in the myths. But a moment arrived when this terrestrial life came to a close; singly or in groups, they entered into the earth. But their souls live for ever; they are immortal. They even continue to frequent the places where the existence of their former hosts came to an end. Moreover, owing to the memories attached to them, these places have a sacred character; it is here that the oknanikilla are located, the sorts of sanctuaries where the churinga of the clan is kept, and the centres of the different totemic cults. When one of the souls which wander about these sanctuaries enters into the body of a woman, the result is a conception and later a birth.⁷⁸⁷ So each individual is considered as a new appearance of a determined ancestor: it is this ancestor himself, come back in a new body and with new features. Now, what were these ancestors?

According to Spencer and Gillen, the souls that bring newborn children to life in each generation are not new, individual creations. All these tribes believe that there is a fixed number of souls, which can never increase.⁷⁸⁴ These souls are reincarnated periodically. When a person dies, their soul leaves the body it inhabited. After the mourning is over, the soul goes to the land of the souls. But after some time, it returns to inhabit another body. These reincarnations cause conception and birth. At the beginning of things, these original souls inhabited the first ancestors, the founders of the clan. At a time beyond which the imagination does not go, and which is considered the very beginning of time, certain beings existed who did not descend from any others. For this reason, the Arunta call them the Altjirangamitjina,⁷⁸⁵ the uncreated ones, who have existed for all eternity. According to Spencer and Gillen, the Arunta call the period when these legendary beings are thought to have lived Alcheringa.⁷⁸⁶ These beings were organized in totemic clans, just like people today. They spent their time traveling and performed all kinds of extraordinary deeds along the way. The memory of these deeds is preserved in myths. But a time came when their life on earth ended. They entered the earth, alone or in groups. Their souls, however, live forever. They are immortal. The souls still visit the places where their former hosts' lives ended. These places are also sacred because of the memories attached to them. Here are the oknanikilla, a kind of sanctuary where the clan's churinga is kept and where the different totemic cults are centered. When one of the souls wandering around these sanctuaries enters a woman's body, conception and later birth follow.⁷⁸⁷ So each individual is considered a new appearance of a particular ancestor. The ancestor has returned in a new body, with new features. Now, what were these ancestors?

In the first place, they were endowed with powers infinitely superior to those possessed by men to-day, even the most respected old men and the most celebrated magicians. They are attributed virtues which we may speak of as miraculous: "They could travel on, or above, or beneath the ground; by opening a vein in the arm, each of them could flood whole tracts of country or cause level plains to arise; in rocky ranges they could make pools of water spring into existence, or could make deep gorges and gaps through which to traverse the ranges, and where they planted their sacred poles (nurtunja), there rocks or trees arose to mark the spot."⁷⁸⁸ It is they who gave the earth the form it has at present. They created all sorts of beings, both men and animals. They are nearly gods. So their souls also have a divine character. And since the souls of men are these ancestral souls reincarnated in the human body, these are sacred beings too.

First, they had powers far greater than those of people today, even the most respected elders and celebrated magicians. They were believed to have powers we might call miraculous: "They could travel on, above, or beneath the ground. By opening a vein in the arm, each could flood whole stretches of country or make level plains rise up. In rocky ranges, they could make pools of water appear. They could also make deep gorges and gaps to travel through the ranges. Wherever they planted their sacred poles (nurtunja), rocks or trees appeared to mark the spot."⁷⁸⁸ They gave the earth its present form. They created all kinds of beings, both humans and animals. They are almost gods. So their souls also have a divine character. Human souls are these ancestral souls reincarnated in human bodies. Therefore, human souls are sacred beings too.

In the second place, these ancestors were not men in the proper sense of the word, but animals or vegetables, or perhaps mixed beings in which the animal or vegetable element predominated: "In the Alcheringa," say Spencer and Gillen, "lived ancestors who, in the native mind, are so intimately associated with the animals or plants the name of which they bear that an Alcheringa man of, say, the kangaroo totem may sometimes be spoken of either as a man-kangaroo or a kangaroo-man. The identity of the human individual is often sunk in that of the animal or plant from which he is supposed to have originated."⁷⁸⁹ Their immortal souls necessarily have the same nature; in them, also, the human element is wedded to the animal element, with a certain tendency for the latter to predominate over the former. So they are made of the same substance as the totemic principle, for we know that the special characteristic of this is to present this double nature, and to synthesize and confound the two realms in itself.

Second, these ancestors were not humans in the proper sense. They were animals or plants, or perhaps mixed beings in whom the animal or plant element predominated. As Spencer and Gillen say, "In the Alcheringa, ancestors lived who, in the native mind, are closely associated with the animals or plants whose names they bear. An Alcheringa man of the kangaroo totem, for example, may sometimes be called either a man-kangaroo or a kangaroo-man. The individual's human identity is often lost in the identity of the animal or plant from which he is thought to have originated."⁷⁸⁹ The ancestors' immortal souls necessarily have the same nature. In these souls, too, the human element is joined to the animal element, with some tendency for the animal element to predominate. So the souls are made of the same substance as the totemic principle. We know that its defining characteristic is this double nature, which combines and merges the human and animal realms within itself.

Since no other souls than these exist, we reach the conclusion that, in a general way, the soul is nothing other than the totemic principle incarnate in each individual. And there is nothing to surprise us in this derivation. We already know that this principle is immanent in each of the members of the clan. But in penetrating into these individuals, it must inevitably individualize itself. Because the consciousnesses, of which it becomes thus an integral part, differ from each other, it differentiates itself according to their image; since each has its own physiognomy, it takes a distinct physiognomy in each. Of course it remains something outside of and foreign to the man, but the portion of it which each is believed to possess cannot fail to contract close affinities with the particular subject in which it resides; it becomes his to a certain extent. Thus it has two contradictory characteristics, but whose coexistence is one of the distinctive features of the notion of the soul. To-day, as formerly, the soul is what is best and most profound in ourselves, and the pre-eminent part of our being; yet it is also a passing guest which comes from the outside, which leads in us an existence distinct from that of the body, and which should one day regain its entire independence. In a word, just as society exists only in and through individuals, the totemic principle exists only in and through the individual consciousnesses whose association forms the clan. If they did not feel it in them it would not exist; it is they who put it into things. So it must of necessity be divided and distributed among them. Each of these fragments is a soul.

Since no other souls exist, we can conclude that, generally speaking, the soul is simply the totemic principle embodied in each individual. There is nothing surprising about this conclusion. We already know that this principle is present within every member of the clan. But when it enters individuals, it must inevitably take an individual form. It becomes an integral part of their consciousnesses, which differ from one another. So it takes a different form in each, reflecting those differences. Each consciousness has its own character, so the principle takes on a distinct character in each one. Of course, the principle remains something external and foreign to the person. But the portion each person is believed to possess must develop close ties with that particular person. To some extent, it becomes their own. Thus the soul has two contradictory characteristics, and their coexistence is one of its distinctive features. Today, as in the past, the soul is the best and deepest part of ourselves, the most important part of our being. Yet it is also a temporary guest that comes from outside. It lives within us separately from the body and should one day regain its complete independence. In short, society exists only in and through individuals. In the same way, the totemic principle exists only in and through individual consciousnesses, whose union forms the clan. If people did not feel the principle within themselves, it would not exist. They are the ones who place it in things. So the principle must be divided and distributed among them. Each of these fragments is a soul.

A myth which is found in a rather large number of the societies of the centre, and which, moreover, is only a particular form of the preceding ones, shows even better that this is really the matter out of which the idea of the soul is made. In these tribes, tradition puts the origin of each clan, not in a number of ancestors, but in only two,⁷⁹⁰ or even in one.⁷⁹¹ This unique being, as long as he remained single, contained the totemic principle within him integrally, for at this moment there was nothing to which this principle could be communicated. Now, according to this same tradition, all the human souls which exist, both those which now animate the bodies of men and those which are at present unemployed, being held in reserve for the future, have issued from this unique personage; they are made of his substance. While travelling over the surface of the ground, or moving about, or shaking himself, he made them leave his body and planted them in the various places he is believed to have passed over. Is this not merely a symbolic way of saying that they are parts of the totemic divinity?

A myth found in a fairly large number of societies in the centre shows even more clearly that this is what the idea of the soul is made from. The myth is also just a particular form of the preceding myths. In these tribes, tradition traces the origin of each clan to just two ancestors,⁷⁹⁰ or even one,⁷⁹¹ rather than to a number of them. As long as the single ancestor remained alone, he contained the whole totemic principle within himself. At that point, there was nothing to which he could pass it on. According to the same tradition, all human souls came from this single figure and are made of his substance. These include both the souls that now animate human bodies and those not currently in use, which are held in reserve for the future. As he travelled over the ground, moved about, or shook himself, he made the souls leave his body. He planted them in the various places where he is believed to have passed. Is this not simply a symbolic way of saying that the souls are parts of the totemic divinity?

But this conclusion presupposes that the tribes of which we have just been speaking admit the doctrine of reincarnation. Now according to Strehlow, this doctrine is unknown to the Arunta, the society which Spencer and Gillen have studied the longest and the best. If, in this particular case, these two observers have misunderstood things to such an extent, their whole testimony would become suspect. So it is important to determine the actual extent of this divergence.

But this conclusion assumes that the tribes just discussed believe in reincarnation. According to Strehlow, however, the Arunta do not know this doctrine. The Arunta are the society that Spencer and Gillen have studied the longest and most thoroughly. If these two observers have misunderstood the Arunta so badly on this point, all their testimony would become suspect. So it is important to determine how far their accounts actually differ.

According to Strehlow, after the soul has once been definitely freed from the body by the rites of mourning, it never reincarnates itself again. It goes off to the isles of the dead, where it passes its days in sleeping and its nights in dancing, until it returns again to earth. Then it comes back into the midst of the living and plays the rôle of protecting genius to the young sons, or if such are lacking, to the grandsons whom the dead man left behind him; it enters their body and aids their growth. It remains thus in the midst of its former family for a year or two, after which it goes back to the land of the souls. But after a certain length of time it goes away once more to make another sojourn upon earth, which is to be the last. A time will come when it must take up again, and with no hope of return this time, the route to the isles of the dead; then, after various incidents, the details of which it is useless to relate, a storm will overtake it, in the course of which it will be struck by a flash of lightning. Thus its career is definitely terminated.⁷⁹²

According to Strehlow, once mourning rites have fully freed the soul from the body, it never reincarnates again. It goes to the islands of the dead, where it sleeps by day and dances by night. Eventually, it returns to earth and lives among the living again. It acts as a guardian spirit to the dead man’s young sons or, if he left no young sons, his grandsons. It enters their bodies and helps them grow. The soul remains among its former family for a year or two, then returns to the land of the souls. But after some time, it leaves again for another stay on earth, which will be its last. The time will come when it must return to the islands of the dead, with no hope of coming back. Various events follow, but there is no need to describe them in detail. Then a storm overtakes the soul, and lightning strikes it. This finally brings its existence to an end.⁷⁹²

So it cannot reincarnate itself; nor can conceptions and births be due to the reincarnation of souls which periodically commence new existences in new bodies. It is true that Strehlow, as Spencer and Gillen, declares that for the Arunta commerce of the sexes is in no way the determining condition of generation,⁷⁹³ which is considered the result of mystic operations, but different from the ones which the other observers told us about. It takes place in one or the other of the two following ways:

So it cannot reincarnate itself. Nor can conception and birth result from souls reincarnating, periodically beginning new lives in new bodies. It is true that Strehlow, like Spencer and Gillen, says that the Arunta do not consider sexual intercourse a determining condition of reproduction.⁷⁹³ Instead, reproduction is thought to result from mystical operations, but these differ from those described by the other observers. It takes place in one of the following two ways:

Wherever an ancestor of the Alcheringa⁷⁹⁴ times is believed to have entered into the ground, there is either a stone or a tree representing his body. The tree or rock which has this mystic relation with the departed hero is called nanja according to Spencer and Gillen,⁷⁹⁵ or ngarra according to Strehlow.⁷⁹⁶ Sometimes it is a water-hole which is believed to have been formed in this way. Now, on each of these trees or rocks and in each of these water-holes, there live embryo children, called ratapa,⁷⁹⁷ which belong to exactly the same totem as the corresponding ancestor. For example, on a gum-tree representing an ancestor of the kangaroo totem there are ratapa, all of which have the kangaroo as their totem. If a woman happens to pass it, and she is of the matrimonial class to which the mothers of these ratapa should belong,⁷⁹⁸ one of them may enter her through the hip. The woman learns of this act by the characteristic pains which are the first symptoms of pregnancy. The child thus conceived will of course belong to the same totem as the ancestor upon whose mystical body he resided before becoming incarnate.⁷⁹⁹

Wherever an ancestor from Alcheringa⁷⁹⁴ times is believed to have entered the ground, a stone or tree represents his body. According to Spencer and Gillen,⁷⁹⁵ the tree or rock with this mystical connection to the departed hero is called nanja. According to Strehlow,⁷⁹⁶ it is called ngarra. Sometimes a water-hole is believed to have formed in this way. Embryo children, called ratapa,⁷⁹⁷ live on each of these trees or rocks and in each of these water-holes. They all belong to the same totem as the corresponding ancestor. For example, on a gum-tree representing an ancestor of the kangaroo totem, there are ratapa. All of them have the kangaroo as their totem. If a woman passes the tree, one of the ratapa may enter her through the hip. This can happen if she belongs to the matrimonial class to which the mothers of these ratapa should belong.⁷⁹⁸ The woman learns that this has happened through the characteristic pains that are the first symptoms of pregnancy. The child conceived in this way will of course belong to the same totem as the ancestor. Before becoming incarnate, the child lived on that ancestor's mystical body.⁷⁹⁹

In other cases, the process employed is slightly different: the ancestor himself acts in person. At a given moment he leaves his subterranean retreat and throws on to the passing woman a little churinga of a special form, called namatuna.⁸⁰⁰ The churinga enters the body of the woman and takes a human form there, while the ancestor disappears again into the earth.⁸⁰¹

In other cases, the process is slightly different: the ancestor acts in person. At a certain moment, he leaves his underground retreat. He throws a small, specially shaped churinga called namatuna onto a woman passing by.⁸⁰⁰ The churinga enters the woman’s body and takes human form there, while the ancestor disappears back into the earth.⁸⁰¹

These two ways of conception are believed to be equally frequent. The features of the child will reveal the manner in which he was conceived; according to whether his face is broad or long, they say that he is the incarnation of a ratapa or a namatuna. Beside these two means of fecundation, Strehlow places a third, which, however, is much more rare. After his namatuna has penetrated into the body of the woman, the ancestor himself enters her and voluntarily submits to a new birth. So in this case, the conception is due to a real reincarnation of the ancestor. But this is very exceptional, and when a man who has been conceived thus dies, the ancestral soul which animated him goes away, just like ordinary souls, to the isles of the dead where, after the usual delays, it is definitely annihilated. So it cannot undergo any further reincarnations.⁸⁰²

These two ways of conceiving a child are believed to be equally common. A child’s features reveal how he was conceived. Depending on whether his face is broad or long, people say he is the incarnation of a ratapa or a namatuna. Strehlow describes a third way of conception, though it is much rarer. After his namatuna has entered the woman’s body, the ancestor himself enters her and willingly undergoes a new birth. In this case, conception is due to an actual reincarnation of the ancestor. But this is very rare. When a man conceived in this way dies, the ancestral soul that gave him life goes to the isles of the dead, just like ordinary souls. There, after the usual delays, it is finally destroyed. So the ancestral soul cannot be reincarnated again.⁸⁰²

Such is the version of Strehlow.⁸⁰³ In the opinion of this author it is radically opposed to that of Spencer and Gillen. But in reality it differs only in the letter of the formulæ and symbols, while in both cases we find the same mythical theme in slightly different forms.

This is Strehlow’s version.⁸⁰³ He believes it is fundamentally opposed to Spencer and Gillen’s version. But in reality, the two versions differ only in the wording of their formulas and symbols. Both contain the same mythical theme in slightly different forms.

In the first place, all the observers agree that every conception is the result of an incarnation. Only according to Strehlow, that which is incarnated is not a soul but a ratapa or a namatuna. But what is a ratapa? Strehlow says that it is a complete embryo, made up of a soul and a body. But the soul is always represented in material forms; it sleeps, dances, hunts, eats, etc. So it, too, has a corporal element. Inversely, the ratapa is invisible to ordinary men; no one sees it as it enters the body of the woman;⁸⁰⁴ this is equivalent to saying that it is made of a matter quite similar to that of the soul. So it hardly seems possible to differentiate the two clearly in this regard. In reality, these are mythical beings which are obviously conceived after the same model. Schulze calls them the souls of children.⁸⁰⁵ Moreover, the ratapa, just like the soul, sustains the closest relations with the ancestor of which the sacred tree or rock is the materialized form. It is of the same totem as this ancestor, of the same phratry and of the same matrimonial class.⁸⁰⁶ Its place in the social organization of the tribe is the very one that its ancestor is believed to have held before it. It bears the same name,⁸⁰⁷ which is a proof that these two personalities are at least very closely related to one another.

First, all observers agree that every conception results from an incarnation. Strehlow alone says that what is incarnated is not a soul but a ratapa or a namatuna. But what is a ratapa? Strehlow says it is a complete embryo, made up of a soul and a body. But the soul is always represented in material form. It sleeps, dances, hunts, eats, and so on. So the soul, too, has a bodily element. Conversely, the ratapa is invisible to ordinary people. No one sees it enter the woman’s body.⁸⁰⁴ This is equivalent to saying that it is made of matter quite similar to that of the soul. So it hardly seems possible to distinguish the two clearly on this basis. In reality, both are mythical beings that are obviously conceived on the same model. Schulze calls them the souls of children.⁸⁰⁵ Moreover, the ratapa, like the soul, has the closest ties to the ancestor embodied in the sacred tree or rock. It belongs to the same totem, phratry, and matrimonial class as this ancestor.⁸⁰⁶ Its place in the tribe’s social organization is the very place its ancestor is believed to have held before it. It bears the same name,⁸⁰⁷ which is proof that the two personalities are at least very closely related.

But there is more than this; this relationship even goes as far as a complete identification. In fact, it is on the mystic body of the ancestor that the ratapa is formed; it comes from this; it is like a detached portion of it. So it really is a part of the ancestor which penetrates into the womb of the mother and which becomes the child. Thus we get back to the conception of Spencer and Gillen: birth is due to the reincarnation of an ancestral personage. Of course it is not the entire person that is reincarnated, it is only an emanation from him. But this difference has only a secondary interest, for when a sacred being divides and duplicates itself, all of its essential characteristics are to be found again in each of the fragments into which it is broken up. So really the Alcheringa ancestor is entire in each part of himself which becomes a ratapa.⁸⁰⁸

But the relationship goes further than this, reaching complete identification. The ratapa forms on the ancestor’s mystical body. It comes from that body, as if it were a part that had broken off. So a part of the ancestor enters the mother’s womb and becomes the child. This brings us back to Spencer and Gillen’s view: birth results from the reincarnation of an ancestral figure. Of course, it is not the whole person who is reincarnated, but only an emanation from him. But this difference is of secondary importance. When a sacred being divides and duplicates itself, all its essential characteristics appear in each fragment. So the Alcheringa ancestor is fully present in each part of himself that becomes a ratapa.⁸⁰⁸

The second mode of conception distinguished by Strehlow has the same significance. In fact, the churinga, and more especially the particular churinga that is called the namatuna, is considered a transformation of the ancestor; according to Strehlow,⁸⁰⁹ it is his body, just as the nanja tree is. In other words, the personality of the ancestor, his churinga and his nanja tree, are sacred things, inspiring the same sentiments and to which the same religious value is attributed. So they transmute themselves into one another: in the spot where an ancestor lost his churinga, a sacred tree or rock has come out of the soil, just the same as in those places where he entered the ground himself.⁸¹⁰ So there is a mythological equivalence of a person of the Alcheringa and his churinga; consequently, when the former throws a namatuna into the body of a woman, it is as if he entered into it himself. In fact, we have seen that sometimes he does enter in person after the namatuna; according to other stories he precedes it; it might be said that he opens up the way for it.⁸¹¹ The fact that these two themes exist side by side in the same myth completes the proof that one is only a doublet of the other.

The second way of understanding conception that Strehlow identifies has the same meaning. The churinga, especially the particular churinga called the namatuna, is considered a transformed ancestor. According to Strehlow,⁸⁰⁹ it is the ancestor’s body, just as the nanja tree is. In other words, the ancestor’s person, his churinga, and his nanja tree are sacred things. They inspire the same feelings and are given the same religious value. So they transform into one another. Where an ancestor lost his churinga, a sacred tree or rock has emerged from the ground. The same has happened where an ancestor himself entered the ground.⁸¹⁰ Thus, in mythology, a person of the Alcheringa and his churinga are equivalent. So when an ancestor throws a namatuna into a woman’s body, it is as if he entered her body himself. In fact, we have seen that sometimes he does enter in person after the namatuna. In other stories, he goes before it, as if opening the way for it.⁸¹¹ These two themes appear side by side in the same myth. This completes the proof that one is only another version of the other.

Moreover, in whatever way the conception may have taken place, there can be no doubt that each individual is united to some determined ancestor of the Alcheringa by especially close bonds. In the first place, each man has his appointed ancestor; two persons cannot have the same one simultaneously. In other words, a being of the Alcheringa never has more than one representative among the living.⁸¹² More than that, the one is only an aspect of the other. In fact, as we already know, the churinga left by the ancestor expresses his personality; if we adopt the interpretation of Strehlow, which, perhaps, is the more satisfactory, we shall say that it is his body. But this same churinga is related in the same way to the individual who is believed to have been conceived under the influence of this ancestor, and who is the fruit of his mystic works. When the young initiate is introduced into the sanctuary of the clan, he is shown the churinga of his ancestor, and someone says to him, "You are this body; you are the same thing as this."⁸¹³ So, in Strehlow's own expression, the churinga is "the body common to the individual and his ancestor."⁸¹⁴ Now if they are to have the same body it is necessary that on one side at least their two personalities be confounded. Strehlow recognizes this explicitly, moreover, when he says, "By the tjurunga (churinga) the individual is united to his personal ancestor."⁸¹⁵

Moreover, however conception may have occurred, each individual is undoubtedly linked to a particular Alcheringa ancestor by especially close bonds. First, each man has his own appointed ancestor. Two people cannot have the same ancestor at the same time. In other words, an Alcheringa being never has more than one representative among the living.⁸¹² More than that, each is only an aspect of the other. As we already know, the churinga left by the ancestor expresses the ancestor’s personality. If we adopt Strehlow’s interpretation, which is perhaps more satisfactory, we would say that the churinga is the ancestor’s body. But the same churinga has the same relationship to the individual believed to have been conceived under the ancestor’s influence. The individual is the fruit of the ancestor’s mystical work. When a young initiate is brought into the clan’s sanctuary, he is shown his ancestor’s churinga. Someone says to him, "You are this body; you are the same thing as this."⁸¹³ So, in Strehlow’s own words, the churinga is "the body common to the individual and his ancestor."⁸¹⁴ For the individual and the ancestor to have the same body, their personalities must be merged in at least one respect. Strehlow explicitly acknowledges this when he says, "By the tjurunga (churinga) the individual is united to his personal ancestor."⁸¹⁵

So for Strehlow as well as for Spencer and Gillen, there is a mystic, religious principle in each new-born child, which emanates from an ancestor of the Alcheringa. It is this principle which forms the essence of each individual, therefore it is his soul, or in any case the soul is made of the same matter and the same substance. Now it is only upon this one fundamental fact that we have relied in determining the nature and origin of the idea of the soul. The different metaphors by means of which it may have been expressed have only a secondary interest for us.⁸¹⁶

For Strehlow, as for Spencer and Gillen, every newborn child has a mystical, religious principle that comes from an ancestor of the Alcheringa. This principle forms the essence of each individual. It is therefore the individual's soul, or, at any rate, the soul is made of the same matter and substance. We have relied only on this fundamental fact to determine the nature and origin of the idea of the soul. The different metaphors used to express this idea are of secondary interest to us.⁸¹⁶

Far from contradicting the data upon which our theory rests, the recent observations of Strehlow bring new proofs confirming it. Our reasoning consisted in inferring the totemic nature of the human soul from the totemic nature of the ancestral soul, of which the former is an emanation and a sort of replica. Now, some of the new facts which we owe to Strehlow show this character of both even more categorically than those we had at our disposal before do. In the first place, Strehlow, like Spencer and Gillen, insists on "the intimate relations uniting each ancestor to an animal, to a plant, or to some other natural object." Some of these Altjirangamitjina (these are Spencer and Gillen's men of the Alcheringa) "should," he says, "be manifested directly as animals; others take the animal form in a way."⁸¹⁷ Even now they are constantly transforming themselves into animals.⁸¹⁸ In any case, whatever external aspect they may have, "the special and distinctive qualities of the animal clearly appear in each of them." For example, the ancestors of the Kangaroo clan eat grass just like real kangaroos, and flee before the hunter; those of the Emu clan run and feed like emus,⁸¹⁹ etc. More than that, those ancestors who had a vegetable as totem become this vegetable itself on death.⁸²⁰ Moreover, this close kinship of the ancestor and the totemic being is so keenly felt by the natives that it is shown even in their terminology. Among the Arunta, the child calls the totem of his mother, which serves him as a secondary totem,⁸²¹ altjira. As filiation was at first in the uterine line, there was once a time when each individual had no other totem than that of his mother; so it is very probable that the term altjira then designated the real totem. Now this clearly enters into the composition of the word which means great ancestor, altjirangamitjina.⁸²²

Far from contradicting the evidence on which our theory rests, Strehlow’s recent observations provide further confirmation. Our argument inferred the totemic nature of the human soul from that of the ancestral soul. The human soul is an emanation and a kind of replica of the ancestral soul. Some new facts from Strehlow show the totemic nature of both souls even more clearly than the evidence previously available to us. First, Strehlow, like Spencer and Gillen, emphasizes "the intimate relations uniting each ancestor to an animal, to a plant, or to some other natural object." These Altjirangamitjina are Spencer and Gillen’s men of the Alcheringa. Some of them, Strehlow says, "should" be seen as "manifested directly as animals", while "others take the animal form in a way."⁸¹⁷ Even now, they constantly transform themselves into animals.⁸¹⁸ Whatever their outward appearance, "the special and distinctive qualities of the animal clearly appear in each of them." For example, the ancestors of the Kangaroo clan eat grass just like real kangaroos and flee from hunters. Those of the Emu clan run and feed like emus,⁸¹⁹ and so on. Moreover, ancestors whose totem was a plant become the plant itself when they die.⁸²⁰ The natives feel this close kinship between the ancestor and the totemic being so strongly that it appears even in their terminology. Among the Arunta, a child calls his mother’s totem altjira. It serves as his secondary totem.⁸²¹ Since descent was originally traced through the mother, there was once a time when each person had only his mother’s totem. So it is very likely that altjira then referred to the person’s actual totem. This term clearly forms part of altjirangamitjina, the word for a great ancestor.⁸²²

The idea of the totem and that of the ancestor are even so closely kindred that they sometimes seem to be confounded. Thus, after speaking of the totem of the mother, or altjira, Strehlow goes on to say, "This altjira appears to the natives in dreams and gives them warnings, just as it takes information concerning them to their sleeping friends."⁸²³ This altjira, which speaks and which is attached to each individual personally, is evidently an ancestor; yet it is also an incarnation of the totem. A certain text in Roth, which speaks of invocations addressed to the totem, should certainly be interpreted in this sense.⁸²⁴ So it appears that the totem is sometimes represented in the mind in the form of a group of ideal beings or mythical personages who are more or less indistinct from the ancestors. In a word, the ancestors are the fragments of the totem.⁸²⁵

The ideas of the totem and the ancestor are so closely related that they sometimes seem to merge. For example, after discussing the mother's totem, or altjira, Strehlow says: "This altjira appears to the natives in dreams and gives them warnings, just as it takes information concerning them to their sleeping friends."⁸²³ This altjira speaks and is personally attached to each individual. It is clearly an ancestor, yet it is also an incarnation of the totem. A passage in Roth about invocations addressed to the totem should certainly be understood in this way.⁸²⁴ So the totem sometimes appears in people's minds as a group of ideal beings or mythical figures who are not clearly distinct from the ancestors. In short, the ancestors are fragments of the totem.⁸²⁵

But if the ancestor is so readily confused with the totemic being, the individual soul, which is so near the ancestral soul, cannot do otherwise. Moreover, this is what actually results from the close union of each man with his churinga. In fact, we know that the churinga represents the personality of the individual who is believed to have been born of it;⁸²⁶ but it also expresses the totemic animal. When the civilizing hero, Mangarkunjerkunja, presented each member of the Kangaroo clan with his personal totem, he spoke as follows: "Here is the body of a kangaroo."⁸²⁷ Thus the churinga is at once the body of the ancestor, of the individual himself and of the totemic animal; so, according to a strong and very just expression of Strehlow, these three beings form a "solid unity."⁸²⁸ They are almost equivalent and interchangeable terms. This is as much as to say that they are thought of as different aspects of one and the same reality, which is also defined by the distinctive attributes of the totem. Their common essence is the totemic principle. The language itself expresses this identity. The word ratapa, and the aratapi of the Loritja language, designate the mythical embryo which is detached from the ancestor and which becomes the child; now these same words also designate the totem of this same child, such as is determined by the spot where the mother believes that she conceived.⁸²⁹

But if the ancestor is so easily confused with the totemic being, so must the individual soul be, since it is so close to the ancestral soul. Moreover, this is what happens because of each person’s close bond with their churinga. We know that the churinga represents the personality of the individual believed to have been born from it.⁸²⁶ But it also represents the totemic animal. When the civilizing hero Mangarkunjerkunja gave each member of the Kangaroo clan their personal totem, he said: "Here is the body of a kangaroo."⁸²⁷ Thus, the churinga is the body of the ancestor, the individual, and the totemic animal at once. So, in Strehlow’s strong and very apt phrase, these three beings form a "solid unity."⁸²⁸ These three beings are almost equivalent and interchangeable. In other words, they are understood as different aspects of one and the same reality. This reality is also defined by the distinctive attributes of the totem. Their common essence is the totemic principle. Language itself expresses this identity. The word ratapa and the Loritja word aratapi name the mythical embryo that separates from the ancestor and becomes the child. But these same words also name the child’s totem. The totem is determined by the place where the mother believes she conceived.⁸²⁹

Up to the present we have studied the doctrine of reincarnation only in the tribes of Central Australia; therefore the bases upon which our inference rests may be deemed too narrow. But in the first place, for the reasons which we have pointed out, the experiment holds good outside of the societies which we have observed directly. Also, there are abundant facts proving that the same or analogous conceptions are found in the most diverse parts of Australia or, at least, have left very evident traces there. They are found even in America.

So far, we have studied the doctrine of reincarnation only among the tribes of Central Australia. The evidence for our conclusion may therefore seem too limited. But, first, for the reasons already given, the evidence also applies beyond the societies we have observed directly. There are also many facts showing that the same or similar beliefs are found across diverse parts of Australia. At least, those beliefs have left very clear traces there. They are found even in America.

Howitt mentions them among the Dieri of South Australia.⁸³⁰ The word Mura-mura, which Gason translates with Good Spirit and which he thinks expresses a belief in a god creator,⁸³¹ is really a collective word designating the group of ancestors placed by the myth at the beginning of the tribe. They continue to exist to-day as formerly. "They are believed to live in trees, which are sacred for this reason." Certain irregularities of the ground, rocks and springs are identified with these Mura-mura,⁸³² which consequently resemble the Altjirangamitjina of the Arunta in a singular way. The Kurnai of Gippsland, though retaining only vestiges of totemism, also believe in the existence of ancestors called Muk-Kurnai, and which they think of as beings intermediate between men and animals.⁸³³ Among the Nimbaldi, Taplin has observed a theory of conception similar to that which Strehlow attributes to the Arunta.⁸³⁴ We find this belief in reincarnation held integrally by the Wotjobaluk in Victoria. "The spirits of the dead," says Mathews, "assemble in the miyur⁸³⁵ of their respective clans; they leave these to be born again in human form when a favourable occasion presents itself."⁸³⁶ Mathews even affirms that "the belief in the reincarnation or transmigration of souls is strongly enrooted in all the Australian tribes."⁸³⁷

Howitt mentions them among the Dieri of South Australia.⁸³⁰ Gason translates the word Mura-mura as “Good Spirit.” He thinks it expresses a belief in a creator god.⁸³¹ But Mura-mura is a collective term for the ancestors whom the myth places at the beginning of the tribe. These ancestors still exist today, just as they did in the past. “They are believed to live in trees, which are sacred for this reason.” Certain features of the ground, rocks, and springs are identified with the Mura-mura.⁸³² The Mura-mura therefore closely resemble the Altjirangamitjina of the Arunta. The Kurnai of Gippsland, though they retain only traces of totemism, also believe in ancestors called Muk-Kurnai. They think of these ancestors as beings between humans and animals.⁸³³ Among the Nimbaldi, Taplin observed a theory of conception similar to the one Strehlow attributes to the Arunta.⁸³⁴ The Wotjobaluk in Victoria hold this belief in reincarnation in its complete form. “The spirits of the dead,” says Mathews, “gather in the miyur⁸³⁵ of their respective clans. They leave these places to be born again in human form when a favorable opportunity arises.”⁸³⁶ Mathews even states that “the belief in the reincarnation or transmigration of souls is deeply rooted in all the Australian tribes.”⁸³⁷

If we pass to the northern regions we find the pure doctrine of the Arunta among the Niol-Niol in the north-west; every birth is attributed to the incarnation of a pre-existing soul, which introduces itself into the body of a woman.⁸³⁸ In northern Queensland myths, differing from the preceding only in form, express exactly the same ideas. Among the tribes on the Pennefather River it is believed that every man has two souls: the one, called ngai, resides in the heart; the other, called choi, remains in the placenta. Soon after birth the placenta is buried in a consecrated place. A particular genius, named Anje-a, who has charge of the phenomena of procreation, comes to get this choi and keeps it until the child, being grown up, is married. When the time comes to give him a son, Anje-a takes a bit of the choi of this man, places it in the embryo he is making, and inserts it into the womb of the mother. So it is out of the soul of the father that that of the child is made. It is true that the child does not receive the paternal soul integrally at first, for the ngai remains in the heart of the father as long as he lives. But when he dies the ngai, being liberated, also incarnates itself in the bodies of the children; if there are several children it is divided equally among them. Thus there is a perfect spiritual continuity between the generations; it is the same soul which is transmitted from a father to his children and from these to their children, and this unique soul, always remaining itself in spite of its successive divisions and subdivisions, is the one which animated the first ancestor at the beginning of all things.⁸³⁹ Between this theory and the one held by the central tribes there is only one difference of any importance; this is that the reincarnation is not the work of the ancestors themselves but that of a special genius who takes charge of this function professionally. But it seems probable that this genius is the product of a syncretism which has fused the numerous figures of the first ancestors into one single being. This hypothesis is at least made probable by the fact that the words Anje-a and Anjir are evidently very closely related; now the second designates the first man, the original ancestor from whom all men are descended.⁸⁴⁰

In the northern regions, we find the pure Arunta doctrine among the Niol-Niol in the north-west. Every birth is attributed to a pre-existing soul entering a woman’s body.⁸³⁸ In northern Queensland, myths express exactly the same ideas, though their form differs. Among the tribes on the Pennefather River, people believe that every man has two souls. One, called ngai, resides in the heart. The other, called choi, remains in the placenta. Soon after birth, the placenta is buried in a consecrated place. A particular spirit, named Anje-a, is in charge of procreation. Anje-a comes to collect the choi and keeps it until the child grows up and marries. When the time comes to give the man a son, Anje-a takes a bit of the man’s choi. He places it in the embryo he is making and inserts the embryo into the mother’s womb. So the child’s soul is made from the father’s soul. The child does not receive the whole of the father’s soul at first. The ngai remains in the father’s heart as long as he lives. But when the father dies, the ngai is released and also enters the bodies of his children. If he has several children, the ngai is divided equally among them. So there is a perfect spiritual continuity between generations. The same soul passes from a father to his children and from them to their children. Despite its successive divisions and subdivisions, this single soul always remains itself. It is the soul that gave life to the first ancestor at the beginning of all things.⁸³⁹ There is only one important difference between this theory and the one held by the central tribes. In this theory, reincarnation is not the work of the ancestors themselves. Instead, a special spirit takes charge of it as his particular function. But this spirit seems likely to be the product of syncretism, which has fused the many first ancestors into one being. At least, this hypothesis seems likely because the words Anje-a and Anjir are evidently very closely related. The second word names the first man, the original ancestor from whom all men are descended.⁸⁴⁰

These same ideas are found again among the Indian tribes of America. Krauss says that among the Tlinkit, the souls of the departed are believed to come back to earth and introduce themselves into the bodies of the pregnant women of their families. "So when a woman dreams, during pregnancy, of some deceased relative, she believes that the soul of this latter has penetrated into her. If the young child has some characteristic mark which the dead man had before, they believe that it is the dead man himself come back to earth, and his name is given to the child."⁸⁴¹ This belief is also general among the Haida. It is the shaman who reveals which relative it was who reincarnated himself in the child and what name should consequently be given to him.⁸⁴² Among the Kwakiutl it is believed that the latest member of a family who died comes back to life in the person of the first child to be born in that family.⁸⁴³ It is the same with the Hurons, the Iroquois, the Tinneh, and many other tribes of the United States.⁸⁴⁴

The same ideas appear among the Indian tribes of America. Krauss says the Tlinkit believe that the souls of the dead return to earth. These souls enter the bodies of pregnant women in their families. "So when a woman dreams of a deceased relative during pregnancy, she believes that the relative’s soul has entered her. If the child has a distinctive mark that the dead man had, people believe the man himself has returned to earth. The child is given his name."⁸⁴¹ This belief is also widespread among the Haida. The shaman reveals which relative has been reincarnated in the child. The shaman also reveals what name the child should therefore be given.⁸⁴² The Kwakiutl believe that the most recently deceased family member returns to life in the first child born into the family.⁸⁴³ The same belief is found among the Hurons, the Iroquois, the Tinneh, and many other tribes of the United States.⁸⁴⁴

The universality of these conceptions extends, of course, to the conclusion which we have deduced from them, that is, to the explanation of the idea of the soul which we have proposed. Its general acceptability is also proved by the following facts.

Of course, because these ideas are universal, so is the conclusion we have drawn from them. That conclusion is the explanation of the idea of the soul that we have proposed. The following facts also show that this explanation is generally acceptable.

We know⁸⁴⁵ that each individual contains within him something of that anonymous force which is diffused in the sacred species; he is a member of this species himself. But as an empirical and visible being, he is not, for, in spite of the symbolic designs and marks with which he decorates his body, there is nothing in him to suggest the form of an animal or plant. So it must be that there is another being in him, in whom he recognizes himself, but whom he represents in the form of an animal or vegetable species. Now is it not evident that this double can only be the soul, since the soul is, of itself, already a double of the subject whom it animates? The justification of this identification is completed by the fact that the organs where the fragment of the totemic principle contained in each individual incarnates itself the most eminently are also those where the soul resides. This is the case with the blood. The blood contains something of the nature of the totem, as is proved by the part it takes in the totemic ceremonies.⁸⁴⁶ But at the same time, the blood is one of the seats of the soul; or rather, it is the soul itself, seen from without. When blood flows, life runs out and, in the same process, the soul escapes. So the soul is confused with the sacred principle which is imminent in the blood.

We know⁸⁴⁵ that each person contains something of the anonymous force spread throughout the sacred species. Each person is a member of that species. But a person is not a member of the species as an observable, visible being. Despite the symbolic designs and marks people put on their bodies, nothing in them suggests an animal or plant form. So there must be another being within each person. Each person recognizes themselves in this being, but imagines it in the form of an animal or plant species. Is it not clear that this double can only be the soul? The soul is already a double of the person it brings to life. Further support for this identification comes from the organs where each person’s share of the totemic principle is most fully embodied. These are also where the soul resides. Blood is one such place. Blood contains something of the nature of the totem, as its role in totemic ceremonies proves.⁸⁴⁶ But blood is also one of the seats of the soul. Or rather, it is the soul itself, seen from the outside. When blood flows out, life drains away, and the soul escapes in the same process. So the soul is identified with the sacred principle present in the blood.

Regarding matters from another point of view, if our explanation is well-founded, the totemic principle, in penetrating into the individual as we suppose, should retain a certain amount of autonomy there, since it is quite distinct from the subject in whom it is incarnated. Now this is just what Howitt claims to have observed among the Yuin: "That in this tribe the totem is thought to be in some way part of a man is clearly seen by the case of Umbara, before mentioned, who told me that, many years ago, someone of the Lace-lizard totem sent it while he was asleep, and that it went down his throat and almost ate his totem, which was in his breast, so that he nearly died."⁸⁴⁷ So it is quite true that the totem is broken up in individualizing itself and that each of the bits thus detached plays the part of a spirit or soul residing in the body.⁸⁴⁸

Looking at the matter from another point of view, if our explanation is sound, the totemic principle should retain some independence within the individual. This is because the totemic principle is quite distinct from the person in whom we suppose it takes form. This is just what Howitt claims to have observed among the Yuin: "It is clear that, in this tribe, the totem is thought to be part of a man in some way. We can see this from the case of Umbara, mentioned earlier. He told me that, many years ago, someone of the Lace-lizard totem sent it while he was asleep. It went down his throat and almost ate his totem, which was in his chest, so that he nearly died."⁸⁴⁷ So it is quite true that the totem breaks into pieces as it takes individual form. Each piece then acts as a spirit or soul residing in the body.⁸⁴⁸

But there are other more clearly demonstrative facts. If the soul is only the totemic principle individualized, it should have, in certain cases at least, rather close relations with the animal or vegetable species whose form is reproduced by the totem. And, in fact, "the Geawe-Gal (a tribe of New South Wales) had a superstition that everyone had within himself an affinity to the spirit of some bird, beast or reptile. Not that he sprung from the creature in any way, but that the spirit which was in him was akin to that of the creature."⁸⁴⁹

But other facts show this more clearly. If the soul is simply the totemic principle made individual, it should sometimes have close ties to the animal or plant species represented by the totem. And in fact, "the Geawe-Gal (a tribe of New South Wales) believed that everyone had within them an affinity with the spirit of some bird, animal, or reptile. They did not believe that a person descended from the creature in any way. Rather, they believed that the spirit within the person was related to the spirit of the creature."⁸⁴⁹

There are even cases where the soul is believed to emanate directly from the animal or vegetable serving as totem. Among the Arunta, according to Strehlow, when a woman has eaten a great deal of fruit, it is believed that she will give birth to a child who will have this fruit as totem. If, at the moment when she felt the first tremblings of the child, she was looking at a kangaroo, it is believed that the ratapa of the kangaroo has entered her body and fertilized her.⁸⁵⁰ H. Basedow reported the same fact from the Wogait.⁸⁵¹ We know, also, that the ratapa and the soul are almost indistinguishable things. Now, such an origin could never have been attributed to the soul if men did not think that it was made out of the same substances as the plants and animals of the totemic species.

In some cases, people believe that the soul comes directly from the animal or plant that serves as a totem. According to Strehlow, the Arunta believe that a woman who has eaten a great deal of fruit will give birth to a child with that fruit as its totem. If she was looking at a kangaroo when she first felt the child move, they believe the kangaroo’s ratapa entered her body and fertilized her.⁸⁵⁰ H. Basedow reported the same belief among the Wogait.⁸⁵¹ We also know that the ratapa and the soul are almost indistinguishable. People could never have attributed such an origin to the soul unless they thought it was made of the same substances as the plants and animals of the totemic species.

Thus the soul is frequently represented in an animal form. It is known that in inferior societies, death is never considered a natural event, due to the action of purely physical causes; it is generally attributed to the evil workings of some sorcerer. In a large number of Australian societies, in order to determine who is the responsible author of this murder, they work on the principle that the soul of the murderer must inevitably come to visit its victim. Therefore, the body is placed upon a scaffolding; then, the ground under the corpse and all around it is carefully smoothed off so that the slightest mark becomes easily perceptible. They return the next day; if an animal has passed by there during the interval, its tracks are readily recognizable. Their form reveals the species to which it belongs, and from that, they infer the social group of which the guilty man is a member. They say that it is a man of such a class or such a clan,⁸⁵² according to whether the animal is the totem of this or that class or clan. So the soul is believed to have come in the form of the totemic animal.

Thus, the soul is often thought to take animal form. In societies considered inferior, death is never seen as a natural event caused by purely physical forces. It is generally attributed to the evil actions of a sorcerer. In many Australian societies, people try to identify the person responsible for this murder. They do so on the principle that the murderer’s soul must inevitably visit its victim. So they place the body on a platform. Then they carefully smooth the ground beneath and around it, so that even the slightest mark will be visible. They return the next day. If an animal has passed by in the meantime, its tracks are easy to recognize. The shape of the tracks reveals the animal’s species. From this, they infer the social group to which the guilty man belongs. They say that he belongs to a particular class or clan,⁸⁵² depending on which class or clan has that animal as its totem. So the soul is believed to have come in the form of the totemic animal.

In other societies where totemism has weakened or disappeared, the soul still continues to be thought of in an animal form. The natives of Cape Bedford (North Queensland) believe that the child, at the moment of entering the body of its mother, is a curlew if it is a girl, or a snake if it is a boy.⁸⁵³ It is only later that it takes a human form. Many of the Indians of North America, says the Prince of Wied, say that they have an animal in their bodies.⁸⁵⁴ The Bororo of Brazil represent the soul in the form of a bird, and therefore believe that they are birds of the same variety.⁸⁵⁵ In other places, it is thought of as a snake, a lizard, a fly, a bee, etc.⁸⁵⁶

In other societies where totemism has weakened or disappeared, people still think of the soul as having an animal form. The Indigenous people of Cape Bedford (North Queensland) believe that a child is a curlew if a girl, or a snake if a boy, when the child enters its mother’s body.⁸⁵³ Only later does the child take human form. The Prince of Wied says that many North American Indians believe they have an animal in their bodies.⁸⁵⁴ The Bororo of Brazil picture the soul as a bird, and therefore believe they are birds of the same kind.⁸⁵⁵ Elsewhere, people think of the soul as a snake, a lizard, a fly, a bee, and so on.⁸⁵⁶

But it is especially after death that this animal nature of the soul is manifested. During life, this characteristic is partially veiled, as it were, by the very form of the human body. But when death has once set it free, it becomes itself again. Among the Omaha, in at least two of the Buffalo clans, it is believed that the souls of the dead go to rejoin the buffalo, their ancestors.⁸⁵⁷ The Hopi are divided into a certain number of clans, whose ancestors were animals or beings with animal forms. Now Schoolcraft tells us that they say that at death, they take their original form again; each becomes a bear or deer, according to the clan to which he belongs.⁸⁵⁸ Very frequently the soul is believed to reincarnate itself in the body of an animal.⁸⁵⁹ It is probably from this that the widely-spread doctrine of metempsychosis was derived. We have already seen how hard pressed Tylor is to account for it.⁸⁶⁰ If the soul is an essentially human principle, what could be more curious than this marked predilection which it shows, in so large a number of societies, for the animal form? On the other hand, everything is explained if, by its very constitution, the soul is closely related to the animal, for in that case, when it returns to the animal world at the close of this life, it is only returning to its real nature. Thus the generality of the belief in metempsychosis is a new proof that the constituent elements of the idea of the soul have been taken largely from the animal kingdom, as is presupposed by the theory which we have just set forth.

But the animal nature of the soul is most apparent after death. During life, the form of the human body partly conceals this nature. But once death has set the soul free, it becomes itself again. Among the Omaha, at least two of the Buffalo clans believe that the souls of the dead rejoin their buffalo ancestors.⁸⁵⁷ The Hopi are divided into several clans whose ancestors were animals or beings with animal forms. Schoolcraft tells us that the Hopi say they regain their original form at death. Each person becomes a bear or a deer, depending on the clan to which they belong.⁸⁵⁸ Very often, the soul is believed to be reincarnated in an animal's body.⁸⁵⁹ This belief is probably the source of the widespread doctrine of metempsychosis. We have already seen how difficult Tylor finds it to explain that doctrine.⁸⁶⁰ If the soul is essentially human, why would it show such a strong preference for animal form in so many societies? On the other hand, everything is explained if the soul is inherently close to animals. In that case, when the soul returns to the animal world at the end of life, it merely returns to its true nature. Thus, the widespread belief in metempsychosis is further proof that the idea of the soul draws much of its substance from the animal kingdom. This is what the theory we have just presented presupposes.

Thus the notion of the soul is a particular application of the beliefs relative to sacred beings. This is the explanation of the religious character which this idea has had from the moment when it first appeared in history, and which it still retains to-day. In fact, the soul has always been considered a sacred thing; on this ground, it is opposed to the body which is, in itself, profane. It is not merely distinguished from its material envelope as the inside from the outside; it is not merely represented as made out of a more subtle and fluid matter; but more than this, it inspires those sentiments which are everywhere reserved for that which is divine. If it is not made into a god, it is at least regarded as a spark of the divinity. This essential characteristic would be inexplicable if the idea of the soul were only a pre-scientific solution given to the problem of dreams; for there is nothing in the dream to awaken religious emotions, so the cause by which these are explained could not have such a character. But if the soul is a part of the divine substance, it represents something not ourselves that is within us; if it is made of the same mental matter as the sacred beings, it is natural that it should become the object of the same sentiments.

The idea of the soul is therefore a particular application of beliefs about sacred beings. This explains why the idea has been religious from its first appearance in history and remains so today. The soul has always been considered sacred. In this respect, it stands in opposition to the body, which is profane in itself. The soul is not merely distinguished from its material covering as the inside is distinguished from the outside. Nor is it merely thought to be made of a finer, more fluid matter. More than that, it inspires the feelings everywhere reserved for what is divine. If the soul is not made into a god, it is at least regarded as a spark of the divine. This essential feature would be impossible to explain if the idea of the soul were merely a pre-scientific explanation for dreams. There is nothing in a dream to awaken religious feelings, so an explanation for dreams could not have a religious character. But if the soul is part of the divine substance, it represents something within us that is not ourselves. And if it is made of the same mental matter as sacred beings, it is natural for it to inspire the same feelings.

And the sacred character which men thus attribute to themselves is not the product of a pure illusion either; like the notions of religious force and of divinity, the notion of the soul is not without a foundation in reality. It is perfectly true that we are made up of two distinct parts, which are opposed to one another as the sacred to the profane, and we may say that, in a certain sense, there is divinity in us. For society, this unique source of all that is sacred, does not limit itself to moving us from without and affecting us for the moment; it establishes itself within us in a durable manner. It arouses within us a whole world of ideas and sentiments which express it but which, at the same time, form an integral and permanent part of ourselves. When the Australian goes away from a religious ceremony, the representations which this communal life has aroused or re-aroused within him are not obliterated in a second. The figures of the great ancestors, the heroic exploits whose memory these rites perpetuate, the great deeds of every sort in which he, too, has participated through the cult, in a word, all these numerous ideals which he has elaborated with the co-operation of his fellows, continue to live in his consciousness and, through the emotions which are attached to them and the ascendancy which they hold over his entire being, they are sharply distinguished from the vulgar impressions arising from his daily relations with external things. Moral ideas have the same character. It is society which forces them upon us, and as the respect inspired by it is naturally extended to all that comes from it, its imperative rules of conduct are invested, by reason of their origin, with an authority and a dignity which is shared by none of our internal states: therefore, we assign them a place apart in our psychical life. Although our moral conscience is a part of our consciousness, we do not feel ourselves on an equality with it. In this voice which makes itself heard only to give us orders and establish prohibitions, we cannot recognize our own voices; the very tone in which it speaks to us warns us that it expresses something within us that is not of ourselves. This is the objective foundation of the idea of the soul: those representations whose flow constitutes our interior life are of two different species which are irreducible one into another. Some concern themselves with the external and material world; others, with an ideal world to which we attribute a moral superiority over the first. So we are really made up of two beings facing in different and almost contrary directions, one of whom exercises a real pre-eminence over the other. Such is the profound meaning of the antithesis which all men have more or less clearly conceived between the body and the soul, the material and the spiritual beings who coexist within us. Moralists and preachers have often maintained that no one can deny the reality of duty and its sacred character without falling into materialism. And it is true that if we have no idea of moral and religious imperatives, our psychical life will all be reduced to one level,⁸⁶¹ all our states of consciousness will be on the same plane, and all feeling of duality will perish. To make this duality intelligible, it is, of course, in no way necessary to imagine a mysterious and unrepresentable substance, under the name of the soul, which is opposed to the body. But here, as in regard to the idea of sacredness, the error concerns the letter of the symbol employed, not the reality of the fact symbolized. It remains true that our nature is double; there really is a particle of divinity in us because there is within us us a particle of these great ideas which are the soul of the group.

The sacred character that people attribute to themselves is not simply an illusion. Like the ideas of religious force and divinity, the idea of the soul has a foundation in reality. It is quite true that we are made up of two distinct parts. These are opposed to each other as the sacred is opposed to the profane. We may say that, in a certain sense, there is divinity in us. Society is the sole source of all that is sacred. It does not merely move us from the outside and affect us for a moment. It also establishes itself within us in a lasting way. It awakens a whole world of ideas and feelings within us. These express society, but they also form an essential and permanent part of ourselves. When an Australian leaves a religious ceremony, the images and ideas awakened or reawakened by this communal life do not disappear instantly. They include the figures of the great ancestors and the heroic exploits that the rites keep alive in memory. They also include great deeds of every kind in which he, too, has participated through the cult. In short, all these many ideals, which he has developed with his fellows, continue to live in his consciousness. They are sharply different from the ordinary impressions arising from his daily contact with external things. This is because of the emotions attached to the ideals and the power they hold over his whole being. Moral ideas have the same character. Society imposes them on us, and the respect it inspires naturally extends to everything that comes from it. Because society is their source, its commands and rules of conduct have an authority and dignity that none of our other inner states share. So we give them a separate place in our mental life. Although our moral conscience is part of our consciousness, we do not feel equal to it. This voice makes itself heard only to give us orders and establish prohibitions. We cannot recognize it as our own voice. The very tone in which it speaks warns us that it expresses something within us that is not our own. This is the objective foundation of the idea of the soul. The ideas and impressions whose flow makes up our inner life are of two different kinds. Neither can be reduced to the other. Some concern the external, material world. Others concern an ideal world that we regard as morally superior to the first. So we really are made up of two beings facing in different and almost opposite directions. One holds a real superiority over the other. This is the deep meaning of the opposition that all people have seen, more or less clearly, between body and soul. These are the material and spiritual beings that coexist within us. Moralists and preachers have often maintained that no one can deny the reality of duty and its sacred character without falling into materialism. And it is true that if we have no idea of moral and religious commands, our mental life will all be reduced to one level.⁸⁶¹ All our states of consciousness will be on the same plane, and all sense of duality will disappear. To make this duality understandable, of course, we do not need to imagine a mysterious substance opposed to the body. Nor do we need to call this substance the soul and suppose that it cannot be pictured. But here, as with the idea of sacredness, the error lies in taking the symbol literally, not in the reality of what it symbolizes. It remains true that our nature is double. There really is a particle of divinity in us because we carry within us a particle of the great ideas that are the soul of the group.

So the individual soul is only a portion of the collective soul of the group; it is the anonymous force at the basis of the cult, but incarnated in an individual whose personality it espouses; it is mana individualized. Perhaps dreams aided in determining certain secondary characteristics of the idea. The inconsistency and instability of the images which fill our minds during sleep, and their remarkable aptitude for transforming themselves into one another, may have furnished the model for this subtile, transparent and Protean matter out of which the soul is believed to be made. Also, the facts of swooning, catalepsy, etc., may have suggested the idea that the soul was mobile, and quitted the body temporarily during this life; this, in its turn, has served to explain certain dreams. But all these experiences and observations could have had only a secondary and complimentary influence, whose very existence it is difficult to establish. All that is really essential in the idea comes from elsewhere.

So the individual soul is only a part of the group’s collective soul. It is the anonymous force at the basis of the cult, embodied in an individual and taking on that individual’s personality. It is mana made individual. Perhaps dreams helped shape certain secondary features of the idea. The images that fill our minds during sleep are inconsistent and unstable. They also have a remarkable ability to transform into one another. These features may have provided a model for the subtle, transparent, and ever-changing substance the soul is believed to be made of. Fainting, catalepsy, and similar experiences may also have suggested that the soul could move and temporarily leave the body during life. This idea, in turn, has helped explain certain dreams. But all these experiences and observations could have had only a secondary and supporting influence. Even the existence of that influence is difficult to establish. Everything truly essential to the idea comes from elsewhere.

But does not this genesis of the idea of the soul misunderstand its essential characteristic? If the soul is a particular form of the impersonal principle which is diffused in the group, the totemic species and all the things of every sort which are attached to these, at bottom it is impersonal itself. So, with differences only of degree, it should have the same properties as the force of which it is a special form, and particularly, the same diffusion, the same aptitude for spreading itself contagiously and the same ubiquity. But quite on the contrary, the soul is voluntarily represented as a concrete, definite being, wholly contained within itself and not communicable to others; it is made the basis of our personality.

But doesn’t this account of how the idea of the soul arose overlook its essential characteristic? The soul may be a particular form of an impersonal principle. This principle is spread throughout the group, the totemic species, and all things of every kind connected with them. If so, the soul is fundamentally impersonal too. It should therefore have the same properties as the force of which it is a special form, differing only in degree. In particular, it should be similarly widespread, able to spread by contact, and present everywhere. But on the contrary, the soul is commonly pictured as a concrete, definite being, wholly contained within itself and unable to be shared with others. It is considered the basis of our personality.

But this way of conceiving the soul is the product of a late and philosophic elaboration. The popular representation, as it is spontaneously formed from common experience, is very different, especially at first. For the Australian, the soul is a very vague thing, undecided and wavering in form, and spread over the whole organism. Though it manifests itself especially at certain points, there are probably none from which it is totally absent. So it has a diffusion, a contagiousness and an omnipresence comparable to those of the mana. Like the mana, it is able to divide and duplicate itself infinitely, though remaining entire in each of its parts; it is from these divisions and duplications that the plurality of souls is derived. On the other hand, the doctrine of reincarnation, whose generality we have established, shows how many impersonal elements enter into the idea of the soul and how essential those are. For if the same soul is going to clothe a new personality in each generation, the individual forms in which it successively develops itself must all be equally external to it, and have nothing to do with its true nature. It is a sort of generic substance which individualizes itself only secondarily and superficially. Moreover, this conception of the soul is by no means completely gone. The cult of relics shows that for a host of believers even to-day, the soul of a saint, with all its essential powers, continues to adhere to his different bones; and this implies that he is believed to be able to diffuse himself, subdivide himself and incorporate himself in all sorts of different things simultaneously.

But this way of thinking about the soul is the product of later philosophical thought. The common view, formed naturally from everyday experience, is very different, especially in its earliest form. For the Australian, the soul is a vague thing, with no fixed or stable shape, spread throughout the body. Although it shows itself especially in certain places, it is probably never entirely absent from any part. So the soul spreads, passes between things, and is present everywhere, much like mana. Like mana, it can divide and duplicate itself endlessly while remaining whole in each part. These divisions and duplications give rise to the existence of multiple souls. On the other hand, the doctrine of reincarnation shows how many impersonal elements are essential to the idea of the soul. We have established how widespread this doctrine is. If the same soul takes on a new personality in each generation, its successive individual forms must all be equally external to it. Those forms must have nothing to do with the soul’s true nature. The soul is a kind of general substance that becomes individual only in secondary and superficial ways. Moreover, this view of the soul has by no means disappeared completely. The cult of relics shows that, even today, many believers think a saint’s soul remains attached to his separate bones, with all its essential powers. This implies a belief that the saint can spread and divide himself and take form in all kinds of different things at once.

Just as the characteristic attributes of the mana are found in the soul, so secondary and superficial changes are enough to enable the mana to individualize itself in the form of a soul. We pass from the first idea to the second with no break of continuity. Every religious force which is attached in a special way to a determined being participates in the characteristics of this being, takes on its appearance and becomes its spiritual double. Tregear, in his Maori-Polynesian dictionary, has thought it possible to connect the word mana with another group of words, such as manawa, manamana, etc., which seem to belong to the same family, and which signify heart, life, consciousness.⁸⁶² Is this not equivalent to saying that some sort of kinship ought to exist between the corresponding ideas as well, that is to say, between the idea of impersonal force and those of internal life, mental force and, in a word, of the soul? This is why the question whether the churinga is sacred because it serves as the residence of a soul, as Spencer and Gillen believe, or because it has impersonal virtues, as Strehlow thinks, seems to us to have little interest and to be without sociological importance. Whether the efficacy of a sacred object is represented in an abstract form in the mind or is attributed to some personal agent does not really matter. The psychological roots of both beliefs are identical: an object is sacred because it inspires, in one way or another, a collective sentiment of respect which removes it from profane touches. In order to explain this sentiment, men sometimes fall back on to a vague and imprecise cause, and sometimes on to a determined spiritual being endowed with a name and a history; but these different interpretations are superadded to one fundamental phenomenon which is the same in both cases.

Just as the soul has the characteristic qualities of mana, mana needs only minor, superficial changes to take individual form as a soul. We can move from the first idea to the second without any break in continuity. Every religious force that is specially attached to a particular being shares that being’s characteristics. It takes on the being’s appearance and becomes its spiritual double. In his Maori-Polynesian dictionary, Tregear suggested that the word mana might be connected to another group of words. These include manawa, manamana, and others that seem to belong to the same family and mean heart, life, and consciousness.⁸⁶² Does this not also suggest a connection between the corresponding ideas? In other words, should there not be a connection between impersonal force and inner life, mental force, and, in short, the soul? This is why the question of what makes the churinga sacred seems to us of little interest or sociological importance. Spencer and Gillen believe it is sacred because it is the dwelling place of a soul. Strehlow thinks it is sacred because it has impersonal powers. But it does not really matter whether people imagine a sacred object’s power as an abstract force or attribute it to a personal agent. Both beliefs have the same psychological roots. An object is sacred because it inspires a shared feeling of respect that protects it from profane touch. To explain this feeling, people sometimes turn to a vague, imprecise cause. At other times, they turn to a particular spiritual being with a name and a history. But these different interpretations are added to the same underlying phenomenon in both cases.

This, moreover, is what explains the singular confusions, examples of which we have met with as we have progressed. The individual, the soul of the ancestor which he reincarnates or from which his own is an emanation, his churinga and the animals of the totemic species are, as we have said, partially equivalent and interchangeable things. This is because in certain connections, they all affect the collective consciousness in the same way. If the churinga is sacred, it is because of the collective sentiments of respect inspired by the totemic emblem carved upon its surface; now the same sentiment attaches itself to the animals or plants whose outward form is reproduced by the totem, to the soul of the individual, for it is thought of in the form of the totemic being, and finally to the ancestral soul, of which the preceding one is only a particular aspect. So all these various objects, whether real or ideal, have one common element by which they arouse a single affective state in the mind, and through this, they become confused. In so far as they are expressed by one and the same representation, they are indistinct. This is how the Arunta has come to regard the churinga as the body common to the individual, the ancestor and even the totemic being. It is his way of expressing the identity of the sentiments of which these different things are the object.

This also explains the unusual confusions we have encountered along the way. As we have said, several things are partly equivalent and interchangeable. These are the individual, the ancestor’s soul that the individual reincarnates or from which the individual’s soul comes, the individual’s churinga, and the animals of the totemic species. In certain respects, all of them affect the collective consciousness in the same way. The churinga is sacred because of the collective feelings of respect inspired by the totemic emblem carved on its surface. The same feeling also attaches to the animals or plants whose outward form the totem reproduces. It attaches to the individual’s soul because the soul is imagined in the form of the totemic being. Finally, it attaches to the ancestor’s soul, of which the individual’s soul is only a particular aspect. So all these various objects, whether real or imagined, share one element that arouses a single emotional state in the mind. Because of this, the objects become confused with one another. To the extent that one and the same representation expresses them, they are indistinguishable. This is how the Arunta has come to regard the churinga as the body shared by the individual, the ancestor, and even the totemic being. It is his way of expressing that the same feelings attach to these different things.

However, it does not follow from the fact the idea of the soul is derived from the idea of mana that the first has a relatively later origin, or that there was a period in history when men were acquainted with religious forces only in their impersonal forms. When some wish to designate by the word preanimist an historical period during which animism was completely unknown, they build up an arbitrary hypothesis;⁸⁶³ for there is no people among whom the ideas of the soul and of mana do not coexist side by side. So there is no ground for imagining that they were formed at two distinct times; everything, on the contrary, goes to show that the two are coeval. Just as there is no society without individuals, so those impersonal forces which are disengaged from the group cannot establish themselves without incarnating themselves in the individual consciousnesses where they individualize themselves. In reality, we do not have two different developments, but two different aspects of one and the same development. It is true that they do not have an equal importance; one is more essential than the other. The idea of mana does not presuppose the idea of the soul; for if the mana is going to individualize itself and break itself up into the particular souls, it must first of all exist, and what it is in itself does not depend upon the forms it takes when individualized. But on the contrary, the idea of the soul cannot be understood except when taken in connection with the idea of mana. So on this ground, it is possible to say that it is the result of a secondary formation; but we are speaking of a secondary formation in the logical, not the chronological, sense of the word.

However, the idea of the soul comes from the idea of mana. This does not mean that the idea of the soul arose later. Nor does it mean that there was a time when people knew religious forces only in their impersonal forms. Some use the word preanimist to describe a historical period when animism was completely unknown. But this is an arbitrary hypothesis.⁸⁶³ There is no people among whom the ideas of the soul and of mana do not exist side by side. So there is no reason to imagine that the two ideas arose at different times. On the contrary, everything suggests that they arose at the same time. Just as there is no society without individuals, the impersonal forces that emerge from the group cannot take hold without becoming embodied in individual minds, where they take on individual forms. In reality, these are not two different developments, but two aspects of the same development. The two aspects are not equally important. One is more essential than the other. The idea of mana does not depend on the idea of the soul. If mana is to take individual form and divide into separate souls, it must first exist. And what mana is in itself does not depend on the forms it takes in individual souls. But the idea of the soul can be understood only in connection with the idea of mana. On this basis, we can say that the idea of the soul is a secondary formation. But it is secondary in the logical sense, not in the sense that it came later.

But how does it come that men have believed that the soul survives the body and is even able to do so for an indefinite length of time?

But why have people believed that the soul survives the body and can even go on surviving indefinitely?

From the analysis which we have made, it is evident that the belief in immortality has not been established under the influence of moral ideas. Men have not imagined the prolongation of their existence beyond the tomb in order that a just retribution for moral acts may be assured in another life, if it fails in this one; for we have seen that all considerations of this sort are foreign to the primitive conception of the beyond.

Our analysis makes it clear that belief in immortality did not arise from moral ideas. People did not imagine life after death to ensure just rewards or punishments for moral acts if they did not receive them in this life. We have seen that all such considerations are foreign to the primitive conception of the afterlife.

Nor is the other hypothesis any better, according to which the other life was imagined as a means of escaping the agonizing prospect of annihilation. In the first place, it is not true that the need of personal survival was actively felt at the beginning. The primitive generally accepts the idea of death with a sort of indifference. Being trained to count his own individuality for little, and being accustomed to exposing his life constantly, he gives it up easily enough.⁸⁶⁴ More than that, the immortality promised by the religions he practices is not personal. In a large number of cases, the soul does not continue the personality of the dead man, or does not continue it long, for, forgetful of its previous existence, it goes away, after a while, to animate another body and thus becomes the vivifying principle of a new personality. Even among the most advanced peoples, it was only a pale and sad existence that shades led in Sheol or Erebus, and could hardly attenuate the regrets occasioned by the memories of the life lost.

The other hypothesis is no better. It holds that people imagined an afterlife to escape the agonizing prospect of being annihilated. First, it is not true that people strongly felt a need for personal survival at the beginning. The primitive person generally accepts the idea of death with a kind of indifference. Trained to value his own individuality little and accustomed to risking his life constantly, he gives it up readily enough.⁸⁶⁴ What is more, the immortality promised by his religions is not personal. In many cases, the soul does not continue the dead person’s personality, or does not continue it for long. Forgetting its previous existence, the soul eventually goes on to give life to another body. It thus becomes the life-giving principle of a new personality. Even among the most advanced peoples, the shades in Sheol or Erebus led only a pale, sad existence. Such an existence could hardly lessen their regrets when they remembered the life they had lost.

A more satisfactory explanation is the one attaching the conception of a posthumous life to the experiences of dreams. Our dead friends and relatives reappear to us in dreams: we see them act, we hear them speak; it is natural to conclude that they continue to exist. But if these observations were able to confirm the idea after it had once been born, they hardly seem capable of creating it out of nothing. Dreams in which we see departed persons living again are too rare and too short and leave only too vague recollections of themselves, to have been able to suggest so important a system of beliefs to men all by themselves. There is a remarkable lack of proportion between the effect and the cause to which it is attributed.

A more satisfactory explanation links the idea of life after death to dreams. Our dead friends and relatives reappear in our dreams. We see them act and hear them speak, so it is natural to conclude that they still exist. But although these experiences could confirm the idea once it had arisen, they hardly seem capable of creating it from nothing. Dreams in which we see dead people alive again are too rare and too brief. The memories they leave are also too vague. These dreams alone could not have suggested such an important system of beliefs to people. There is a striking lack of proportion between the effect and its supposed cause.

What makes this question embarrassing is the fact that in itself, the idea of the soul does not imply that of its survival, but rather seems to exclude it. In fact, we have seen that the soul, though being distinguished from the body, is believed, nevertheless, to be closely united to it: it ages along with the body, it feels a reaction from all the maladies that fall upon the body; so it would seem natural that it should die with the body. At least, men ought to have believed that it ceased to exist from the moment when it definitely lost its original form, and when it was no longer what it had been. Yet it is at just this moment that a new life opens out before it.

This question is difficult because the idea of the soul does not itself imply that the soul survives death. In fact, it seems to rule out survival. As we have seen, the soul is believed to be distinct from the body, yet closely united with it. The soul ages with the body and is affected by every illness that strikes the body. So it would seem natural for the soul to die with the body. At least, people should have believed that the soul ceased to exist once it permanently lost its original form and was no longer what it had been. Yet it is at this very moment that a new life opens up for the soul.

The myths which we have already described give the only possible explanation of this belief. We have seen that the souls of new-born children are either emanations of the ancestral souls, or these souls themselves reincarnated. But in order that they may either reincarnate themselves, or periodically give off new emanations, they must have survived their first holders. So it seems as though they admitted the survival of the dead in order to explain the birth of the living. The primitive does not have the idea of an all-powerful god who creates souls out of nothing. It seems to him that souls cannot be made except out of souls. So those who are born can only be new forms of those who have been; consequently, it is necessary that these latter continue to exist in order that others may be born. In fine, the belief in the immortality of the soul is the only way in which men were able to explain a fact which could not fail to attract their attention; this fact is the perpetuity of the life of the group. Individuals die, but the clan survives. So the forces which give it life must have the same perpetuity. Now these forces are the souls which animate individual bodies; for it is in them and through them that the group is realized. For this reason, it is necessary that they endure. It is even necessary that in enduring, they remain always the same; for, as the clan always keeps its characteristic appearance, the spiritual substance out of which it is made must be thought of as qualitatively invariable. Since it is always the same clan with the same totemic principle, it is necessary that the souls be the same, for souls are only the totemic principle broken up and particularized. Thus there is something like a germinative plasm, of a mystic order, which is transmitted from generation to generation and which makes, or at least is believed to make, the spiritual unity of the clan through all time. And this belief, in spite of its symbolic character, is not without a certain objective truth. For though the group may not be immortal in the absolute sense of the word, still it is true that it endures longer than the individuals and that it is born and incarnated afresh in each new generation.

The myths we have already described provide the only possible explanation for this belief. We have seen that newborn children’s souls either come from ancestral souls or are those souls reincarnated. But ancestral souls must have survived their first owners to be reincarnated or periodically give rise to new souls. So it seems that people believed the dead survived in order to explain the birth of the living. Primitive people do not have the idea of an all-powerful god who creates souls out of nothing. To them, souls can only be made from other souls. So those who are born can only be new forms of those who have lived before. Consequently, those who have lived before must continue to exist so that others can be born. In short, belief in the immortality of the soul was the only way people could explain an unavoidable fact: the continuing life of the group. Individuals die, but the clan survives. So the forces that give the clan life must also endure. These forces are the souls that give life to individual bodies. For it is in and through these souls that the group comes into being. For this reason, the souls must endure. Moreover, the souls must always remain the same as they endure. The clan always keeps its distinctive character, so its spiritual substance must be thought of as unchanging in quality. The clan remains the same, with the same totemic principle. So its souls must be the same, for they are only the totemic principle divided into individual parts. Thus, something like a mystical germinal substance passes from generation to generation. This substance creates, or is at least believed to create, the clan’s spiritual unity throughout time. Despite its symbolic character, this belief has a certain objective truth. The group may not be immortal in the absolute sense. But it is true that the group outlasts its individual members and is born and embodied anew in each generation.

A fact confirms this interpretation. We have seen that according to the testimony of Strehlow, the Arunta distinguish two sorts of souls: on the one hand are those of the ancestors of the Alcheringa, on the other, those of the individuals who actually compose the active body of the tribe at each moment in history. The second sort only survive the body for a relatively short time; they are soon totally annihilated. Only the former are immortal; as they are uncreated, so they do not perish. It is also to be noticed that they are the only ones whose immortality is necessary to explain the permanence of the group; for it is upon them, and upon them alone, that it is incumbent to assure the perpetuity of the clan, for every conception is their work. In this connection, the others have no part to play. So souls are not said to be immortal except in so far as this immortality is useful in rendering intelligible the continuity of the collective life.

One fact confirms this interpretation. As we have seen, Strehlow reports that the Arunta distinguish two kinds of souls. One kind belongs to the ancestors of the Alcheringa. The other belongs to the individuals who make up the active body of the tribe at any given time. The souls of living individuals survive the body for only a relatively short time. They are soon completely destroyed. Only the souls of the ancestors are immortal. Since they were never created, they do not perish. It is also worth noting that only the immortality of the ancestors’ souls is needed to explain the group’s continuity. These souls alone are responsible for ensuring that the clan continues, because every conception is their work. The other souls have no part in this. Souls are therefore said to be immortal only insofar as immortality helps explain the continuity of collective life.

Thus the causes leading to the first beliefs in a future life had no connections with the functions to be filled at a later period by the institutions beyond the tomb. But when that had once appeared, they were soon utilized for other purposes besides those which had been their original reasons for existence. Even in the Australian societies, we see them beginning to organize themselves for this other purpose. Moreover, there was no need of any fundamental transformation for this. How true it is that the same social institution can successively fulfil different functions without changing its nature!

Thus, the causes of the first beliefs in an afterlife had no connection with the later functions of institutions concerning the afterlife. But once these institutions appeared, they were soon used for purposes beyond those that originally brought them into existence. Even in Australian societies, we see these institutions beginning to organize themselves for this other purpose. Moreover, no fundamental transformation was needed. How true it is that the same social institution can serve different functions over time without changing its nature!

The idea of the soul was for a long time, and still is in part, the popular form of the idea of personality.⁸⁶⁵ So the genesis of the former of these ideas should aid us in understanding how the second one was formed.

For a long time, the idea of the soul was the popular form of the idea of personality. It still is, in part.⁸⁶⁵ So understanding how the idea of the soul arose should help us understand how the idea of personality developed.

From what has already been said, it is clear that the notion of person is the product of two sorts of factors. One of these is essentially impersonal: it is the spiritual principle serving as the soul of the group. In fact, it is this which constitutes the very substance of individual souls. Now this is not the possession of any one in particular: it is a part of the collective patrimony; in it and through it, all consciousnesses communicate. But on the other hand, in order to have separate personalities, it is necessary that another factor intervene to break up and differentiate this principle: in other words, an individualizing factor is necessary. It is the body that fulfils this function. As bodies are distinct from each other, and as they occupy different points of space and time, each of them forms a special centre about which the collective representations reflect and colour themselves differently. The result is that even if all the consciousnesses in these bodies are directed towards the same world, to wit, the world of the ideas and sentiments which brings about the moral unity of the group, they do not all see it from the same angle; each one expresses it in its own fashion.

What has already been said makes clear that the idea of a person is the product of two kinds of factors. One is essentially impersonal: the spiritual principle that serves as the soul of the group. This principle is, in fact, the very substance of individual souls. It belongs to no one person in particular. It is part of the collective inheritance, and all minds communicate in and through it. But separate personalities require another factor to divide and differentiate this principle. In other words, an individualizing factor is necessary. The body performs this function. Bodies are distinct from one another and occupy different points in space and time. Each body therefore forms a distinct center around which collective representations are reflected and take on different shades. As a result, all the minds in these bodies are directed toward the same world. This is the world of ideas and feelings that gives the group its moral unity. Yet even so, they do not all see that world from the same angle. Each expresses it in its own way.

Of these two equally indispensable factors, the former is certainly not the less important, for this is the one which furnishes the original matter for the idea of the soul. Perhaps some will be surprised to see so considerable a rôle attributed to the impersonal element in the genesis of the idea of personality. But the philosophical analysis of the idea of person, which has gone far ahead of the sociological analysis, has reached analogous results on this point. Among all the philosophers, Leibniz is one of those who have felt most vividly what a personality is; for before all, the nomad is a personal and autonomous being. Yet, for Leibniz, the contents of all the monads is identical. In fact, all are consciousnesses which express one and the same object, the world; and as the world itself is only a system of representations, each particular consciousness is really only the reflection of the universal consciousness. However, each one expresses it from its own point of view, and in its own manner. We know how this difference of perspectives comes from the fact that the monads are situated differently in relation to each other and to the whole system which they constitute.

Of these two equally essential factors, the first is certainly no less important. It provides the original material for the idea of the soul. Perhaps some will be surprised that the impersonal element plays such a large role in the origin of the idea of personality. But philosophical analysis of the idea of a person has reached similar conclusions on this point. This analysis has advanced much further than sociological analysis. Among all philosophers, Leibniz is one of those who had the strongest sense of what a personality is. For Leibniz, the nomad is above all a personal and autonomous being. Yet he held that the contents of all monads are identical. All are consciousnesses that express the same object, the world. The world itself is only a system of representations. So each individual consciousness is really only a reflection of the universal consciousness. However, each expresses the universal consciousness from its own point of view and in its own way. We know how this difference in perspectives arises. The monads occupy different positions in relation to one another and to the whole system they make up.

Kant expresses the same sentiment, though in a different form. For him, the corner-stone of the personality is the will. Now the will is the faculty of acting in conformity with reason, and the reason is that which is most impersonal within us. For reason is not my reason; it is human reason in general. It is the power which the mind has of rising above the particular, the contingent and the individual, to think in universal forms. So from this point of view, we may say that what makes a man a personality is that by which he is confounded with other men, that which makes him a man, not a certain man. The senses, the body and, in a word, all that individualizes, is, on the contrary, considered as the antagonist of the personality by Kant.

Kant expresses the same idea, though in a different way. For him, the will is the foundation of personality. The will is the ability to act according to reason, and reason is the most impersonal thing within us. Reason is not my reason. It is human reason in general. Reason is the mind’s ability to rise above what is particular, contingent, and individual, and to think in universal terms. From this point of view, we may say that what makes a person a personality is what makes them indistinguishable from other people. It is what makes them human, not a particular human being. Kant, by contrast, regards the senses, the body, and everything that makes us distinct as opposed to personality.

This is because individuation is not the essential characteristic of the personality. A person is not merely a single subject distinguished from all the others. It is especially a being to which is attributed a relative autonomy in relation to the environment with which it is most immediately in contact. It is represented as capable of moving itself, to a certain degree: this is what Leibniz expressed in an exaggerated way when he said that the monad was completely closed to the outside. Now our analysis permits us to see how this conception was formed and to what it corresponds.

This is because being an individual is not the essential feature of personality. A person is not merely a single subject distinct from all others. More importantly, a person is a being considered relatively independent of the immediate environment. A person is understood to be capable, to some degree, of moving itself. Leibniz expressed this idea in an exaggerated way when he said that the monad was completely closed to the outside. Our analysis now lets us see how this idea developed and what it corresponds to.

In fact, the soul, a symbolic representation of the personality, has the same characteristic. Although closely bound to the body, it is believed to be profoundly distinct from it and to enjoy, in relation to it, a large degree of independence. During life, it may leave it temporarily, and it definitely withdraws at death. Far from being dependent upon the body, it dominates it from the higher dignity which is in it. It may well take from the body the outward form in which it individualizes itself, but it owes nothing essential to it. Nor is the autonomy which all peoples have attributed to the soul a pure illusion; we know now what its objective foundation is. It is quite true that the elements which serve to form the idea of the soul and those which enter into the representation of the body come from two different sources that are independent of one another. One sort are made up of the images and impressions coming from all parts of the organism; the others consist in the ideas and sentiments which come from and express society. So the former are not derived from the latter. There really is a part of ourselves which is not placed in immediate dependence upon the organic factor: this is all that which represents society in us. The general ideas which religion or science fix in our minds, the mental operations which these ideas suppose, the beliefs and sentiments which are at the basis of our moral life, and all these superior forms of psychical activity which society awakens in us, these do not follow in the trail of our bodily states, as our sensations and our general bodily consciousness do. As we have already shown, this is because the world of representations in which social life passes is superimposed upon its material substratum, far from arising from it; the determinism which reigns there is much more supple than the one whose roots are in the constitution of our tissues and it leaves with the actor a justified impression of the greatest liberty. The medium in which we thus move is less opaque and less resistant: we feel ourselves to be, and we are, more at our ease there. In a word, the only way we have of freeing ourselves from physical forces is to oppose them with collective forces.

In fact, the soul is a symbolic representation of personality, and it has the same characteristic. Although closely tied to the body, the soul is believed to be profoundly different from it and largely independent of it. During life, the soul may temporarily leave the body, and at death it leaves for good. Far from depending on the body, the soul dominates it because of its higher dignity. The soul may take from the body the outward form that makes it individual, but it owes nothing essential to the body. Nor is the independence that all peoples have attributed to the soul a mere illusion. We now know its objective basis. The elements that form our idea of the soul and those that form our representation of the body come from two different, independent sources. The elements that form our representation of the body consist of images and impressions from all parts of the organism. Those that form our idea of the soul consist of ideas and feelings that come from and express society. So the former do not come from the latter. There really is a part of ourselves that does not depend directly on the body. This is everything in us that represents society. Religion and science establish general ideas in our minds. These ideas require certain mental operations. Our moral life rests on beliefs and feelings. Society awakens all these higher forms of mental activity in us. Unlike our sensations and our general awareness of our bodies, they do not follow changes in our bodily states. As we have already shown, this is because the world of representations in which social life takes place does not arise from its material foundation. Instead, it is superimposed on that foundation. The determinism governing that world is much more flexible than the determinism rooted in the makeup of our bodily tissues. It leaves us with a justified sense of great freedom. The medium in which we thus move is less opaque and offers less resistance. We feel more at ease there, and we are more at ease. In short, the only way we can free ourselves from physical forces is by opposing them with collective forces.

But whatever we receive from society, we hold in common with our companions. So it is not at all true that we are more personal as we are more individualized. The two terms are in no way synonymous: in one sense, they oppose more than they imply one another. Passion individualizes, yet it also enslaves. Our sensations are essentially individual; yet we are more personal the more we are freed from our senses and able to think and act with concepts. So those who insist upon all the social elements of the individual do not mean by that to deny or debase the personality. They merely refuse to confuse it with the fact of individuation.⁸⁶⁶

But whatever we receive from society, we share with our companions. So it is not true that the more individualized we are, the more personal we are. The two terms do not mean the same thing. In one sense, they are more opposed than connected. Passion makes us individuals, but it also enslaves us. Our sensations are essentially individual. Yet we become more personal as we free ourselves from our senses and become able to think and act with concepts. So those who emphasize all the social elements in the individual do not mean to deny or diminish personality. They simply refuse to confuse personality with being an individual.⁸⁶⁶