Papua New Guinea models in Irian Jaya In

0 downloads 0 Views 2MB Size Report
as R. Lederman has done for the Mendi people in Papua New Guinea. (Lederman ... around the concepts of descent and marriage, often centering on systems of sister- .... men had no dammar and hence no money, so their previous cultural superiority ..... his deceased mother's land regardless of his father's possible remar-.
G. Stürzenhofecker Border crossings; Papua New Guinea models in Irian Jaya In: Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 147 (1991), no: 2/3, Leiden, 298-325

This PDF-file was downloaded from http://www.kitlv-journals.nl

GABRIELE STURZENHOFECKER

BORDER CROSSINGS: PAPUA NEW GUINEA MODELS IN IRIAN JAYA*

I. INTRODUCTION The aim of this paper is to examine a corpus of ethnographic writings on the Province of Irian Jaya in Indonesia, dating from the 1960s, and to bring these writings, hitherto not scrutinized closely, into the context of contemporary critical debate. The specific Irian Jaya ethnographies considered are those by L. N. Serpenti on the Kimam, G. Oosterwal on the people of the Tor, K.-F. Koch on the Yale, and D. Hayward on the Dani. Work done on Irian Jaya has for historical reasons been much less discussed than that on the culturally related societies across the border in Papua New Guinea. By utilizing ideas from these discussions in the Papua New Guinea literature the paper seeks to identify ways in which these Irian Jaya ethnographies can be reanalyzed and reinterpreted. For example, conceptual and ethnographic ambiguities in the account of kinship and group structure among the Kimam given by Serpenti can be at least partially resolved by the use of concepts developed to handle similar problems in the discussion of Papua New Guinea highlands societies. Similarly Koch's description of social control, marriage, and exchange among the Yale can be modified by paying more attention to the active role of women in the social structure, as R. Lederman has done for the Mendi people in Papua New Guinea (Lederman 1986). The purpose of this paper is, therefore, not merely negative, but also positive. A further aim is to emphasize the indigenous peoples' capacities for cultural change, a factor which can be obscured by looking at them as the passive recipients of change imposed from outside, whether by government or mission authorities. The paper also identifies * Thanks are due to Rubie Watson, Bob Hayden and Keith Brown for their comments on an earlier draft of this paper. I also gratefully acknowledge the comments made and the discussion provided by Andrew Strathern in the course of writing this piece, particularly concerning section II, and by Anton Ploeg and Jelle Miedema in the process of final revision. GABRIELE STURZENHOFECKER is a doctoral student of anthropology at the University of Pittsburgh, whose field of interest includes gender relations and cognatic systems, with particular reference to New Guinea. She is co-editor of the English translation of H. Strauss, Die Mi-Kultur der Hagenberg Stdmme in ostlich Zentral Neuguinea. She may be reached at the Department of Anthropology, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh PA 15260, USA.

Border Crossings: Papua New Guinea Models in Irian Jaya

KILOMETRES

Map of Irian Jaya

299

300

Gabriek Sturzenhofecker

theocentrism as a tendency in the writings of missionary anthropologists, which supports the viewpoint of the missions that their historical role is simply to meet the needs of the people, who are depicted, again, as passive and unable to meet these needs for themselves. II. CULTURE CHANGE AND COLONIAL ETHNOGRAPHY During the years of Dutch control over Netherlands New Guinea a number of ethnographers trained in general socio-cultural anthropology made field studies with the permission of the Dutch government. These studies were generally cast in the idiom of structural-functional theory, with some addition of ideas from French structuralism. They revolved around the concepts of descent and marriage, often centering on systems of sisterexchange or cousin-marriage. Although change is usually not a major focus in these studies, the authors display attitudes towards local changes which are strongly conditioned by their own background identities as members of the colonial society. This can be illustrated with reference to the study by Oosterwal on the Tor. A brief contrast will be made with Serpenti's on the Kimam. 1. The Tor 'Tor' is the name of a river running from the mountainous interior to the coastal plains of northern Irian Jaya (see map). The people living in the environs of this river number about a thousand and have access to a territory of some 2,200 square kilometres (Oosterwal 1961a:9-15). Oosterwal identifies a series of groups he calls 'tribes' within the whole of the population, and below the tribe he finds villages. Sets of tribes may be combined under a single name and these names in turn may denote language groups. Migrations were common, being occasioned by internal quarrels and sorcery accusations, and in this way new villages were formed. At the time of Oosterwal's fieldwork, in 1957-59, the Dutch colonial government had enforced a cessation of overt warfare (p. 30). Tribes afraid of each other's sorcery still traded with each other for valued goods (Oosterwal 1961a:30). 'Tribes' were small, ranging from less than 50 to a maximum of 85 individuals. Demographically, 'masculinization' seems to have been taking place, and 47% of the marriageable men at the time of the fieldwork were bachelors. Men sought brides of increasingly lower age, for example in some cases 8-12 years (p. 38). The birth rate overall was low, partly owing to the fact that women bore the brunt of subsistence activities (p. 44). These demographic factors must be taken into account when we consider the patterns of socio-economic change among the people. It is furthermore important to recognize that the whole area has been historically in a state of flux, with much cultural borrowing. Oosterwal in fact generalizes that 'the Tor territory has been an area of expulsion of people and their culture which along the coast clashed and mingled with the Melanesian island-culture' (Oosterwal 1961a:52). Food

Border Crossings: Papua New Guinea Models in Irian Jaya

301

scarcities, dangers of war, and contact with colonial agents have also caused separate tribes to join together (p. 53). Residence within a particular tribal territory was correlated with the search for food. People lived permanently in main villages, typically consisting of 8-12 houses, located close to the river, but also moved freely within clear tribal boundaries in search of food. Branch-villages, consisting of perhaps four small houses, were built in places where people worked sago, a basic source of subsistence, and were also occupied as refuges from the sorcery of enemies and as hunting lodges. Sexual relations took place in these branch-villages, while the main village contained the central cult house (pp. 34-5). Economic relations, then, were dominated by women, while ritual was male-dominated. Rights in sago palms were invested in women alone, while only men hunted (pp. 61-2) and fished (pp. 67 ff.). A few pigs were domesticated and killed at feasts. Both sexes collected forest products and also made gardens. Shortages of food periodically occurred. Oosterwal notes that 'the food-situation greatly affects the choice of the marriage partner and also to a great extent the rule of residence after marriage' (p. 79). This point is again of great significance for discussions of change. Rights to land were held collectively, and individual rights were created by labour and/or kinship. An important factor in the overall economy also was the production and exchange of dammar resin. Marriage generally took place by sister-exchange (p. 101), and most marriages were kept within the tribe, as a means of conserving female labour. Flexibility was achieved by the proviso that in practice cousins, as well as immediate genealogical sisters, might be involved in the exchange. At the same time this could lead to conflicting claims over the same girl. Conflicts could sometimes be dealt with by postponing the return marriage (p. 107), a practice which was on the increase as a result of masculinization. Until the return marriage had been made, a man was much obligated to his wife's elder brother (p. 108), and had to present gifts to him, for example fish, 'and nowadays especially articles of Western culture' (p. 108). This last piece of information is of the greatest importance for analysing processes of change from an internal standpoint. Oosterwal notes that these Western goods had entered the Tor area by trade well before the direct arrival of Europeans. The goods concerned were axes, bush knives, and clothes, introduced in the first place by Dutch traders. In the eastern coastal area of Sarmi these commodities, and cash, were regularly paid as bridewealth, and the custom was making inroads among certain tribes in Tor also. From one point of view, then, we see an interesting case of cultural 'diffusion'; from another, the indigenous 'kernel' of acceptance of a new custom via an existing structural arrangement; and from yet another, we can see the initial stimulus to this change as coming from outside influence, by which new goods entered the economy. The wider context of colonial relations in which the change occurred can now be examined.

302

Gabriele Sturzenhofecker

Dammar is a resin which can be used to provide illumination at feasts and for night journeys back from sago groves. It has also been an object of interest to outside traders, who export it to Europe for use in the chemical industry (p. 91). One such trader, one Mr. Boelaart, seems to have been important as a direct agent of culture change. Oosterwal credits this man with changing the Tor marriage system. He writes: 'While the Chinese traders bartered the dammar from the population for ... tobacco, textilefabrics or ironware, Mr. Boelaart paid them in money' (Oosterwal 1961 a:91). Furthermore, and rather surprisingly, we are told, 'Mr. Boelaart tried to stop the marriage by exchange, by introducing the bride-price to be paid in money'. The Tor were, apparently, reluctant to accept this, but some did adopt the new practice. And Tor men, who now had money, were also able to obtain sexual intercourse with coastal women. The coastal men had no dammar and hence no money, so their previous cultural superiority over the inlanders had been reversed by this trader's activity. Oosterwal credits Mr. Boelaart with being a major agent of change. By contrast, the Tor people are seen as passively accepting or resisting it. However, the factors he has earlier adduced, and which I have outlined, make it abundantly clear that the Tor themselves had reached a point of difficulty, largely for demographic reasons, with their sister-exchange system, and had independently devised a number of innovations to deal with this, e.g. delayed exchange or child-marriage, with the delayed exchanges being accompanied by a step-up in interim presentations, which provided the institutional groundwork for the further switch to bridewealth. A desire for money was also involved, as a means of reversing precolonial patterns of dominance. The further significance of money and tools as a means of stimulating production and perhaps reversing the balance of economic control between the sexes is not explored by Oosterwal. Rather, he continues to eulogize Mr. Boelaart, who organized carriers to bring rice and tinned fish for the labourers and their families in the dammar-producing areas. This supply line collapsed, however, when the import of rice ceased, and as a result some of the tribes experienced sudden starvation. Oosterwal praises the Dutch government's expenditure of funds on improving the navigability of the rivers in this area as one way of providing access to dammar, and he adds: 'Owing to this great project of the dammar exploitation the Tor District will be included in the western economy and production for the world market' (Oosterwal 1961a:94). He adds less sanguinely that the Dutch Forestry Service had asked him not to publish too many data on its dammar exploitation, for example on how the territorial rights of the local people were being purchased, and so on, because the 'time is not yet ripe' (Oosterwal 1961a:94). Ordinarily, as Oosterwal writes about the Tor people themselves, he is rather at pains to point out how small-scale, vulnerable, and fragile their social system is. Moreover, he recognizes the flexibility and creativity of the people, for example in the composition and export of new songs

Border Crossings: Papua New Guinea Models in Irian Jaya

303

(Oosterwal 1961a:44; cf. also Oosterwal 1961b). Nevertheless, when he comes to consider the colonial context he tends to deny agency to the people. He depicts change not as a dialectical process, with ramifying effects at the regional level — although he presents the facts which enable us to construct a viewpoint along such lines — but rather as a threat to the local communities. In stressing the trader's role as an agent of cultural change, he forgets to explore thoroughly the creative responses of the people and the possibilities of new patterns emerging out of conflict. Finally, when he discusses development plans themselves, he openly praises the Dutch government's large-scale plans, and in his footnote draws a polite veil over the probably questionable methods by which the government obtained rights to exploit dammar resources, suggesting only that the 'time is not yet ripe' to discuss such things — this obscure phrase implying more a desire to avoid saying anything controversial than a commitment to scientific discretion. The footnote seems the more naive because he reports that the Forestry Service itself asked him to pass over these weighty matters lightly! We can draw the following conclusions from the Tor case: 1. The author conscientiously reports many changes, but the perspective of his own colonial background discourages him from seeing the people as active agents in the process of change. 2. The author praises the major development plans of the Dutch government for the Tor area, 'taking off from an earlier, rather eulogistic, account of the activities of a single trader, Mr. Boelaart. 2. Serpenti on the Kimam Serpenti is concerned to delineate processes of change from a more sympathetic perspective on the people's own rationale, and his account is correspondingly more balanced. The Kimam are a group of 7,000 people living on Kolepom Island (formerly Frederik-Hendrik Island), off the South Coast of Irian Jaya (see map) (for details of the social structure see section HI below). They live scattered over thirty villages of varying sizes all over the island, in a basically swampy and marshy environment. Each village comprises a collection of dozens, or sometimes hundreds, of small man-made islands. In most of the villages the Kimam originally had separate day and night huts built side by side on an artificial island. In most villages, however, the traditional sleeping hut (paid) has disappeared, Serpenti reports, and has been replaced by houses arranged in a government-prescribed pattern in order to achieve healthier living conditions and to facilitate control through greater concentration. Serpenti points out that the first of these aims has not been realized, since the new nouses are not as solidly constructed as their traditional counterparts, and are far from. being water- and mosquito-proof (Serpenti 1977:1-20). Gardens are located on artificially created garden islands, on which men grow the cerr

304

Gabriele Stiirzenhofecker

emonial crop, yam, used in the course of competitive exchanges (ndambu); taro is of lesser ceremonial significance, but is more important as food. The labour-intensive production of sweet potatoes in the swampy areas is the responsibility of the women. Like the yam, the sweet potato is one of the varieties of food used at ndambu feasts. The diet is supplemented by cassava, sago, mapie flour made from swamp ferns, and the products of hunting and fishing. Further, wad, an intoxicating liquid (comparable to the Kava of Polynesia), is of social significance. It is an indispensable ingredient at all feasts of any importance, and it is also a major means of paying for all sorts of services, e.g. the construction of residential or garden islands (pp. 20-62). Ever since the missionaries and the government authorities first came to the island, repeated attempts have been made to persuade the people to move away from the swampy lowlands onto dry and higher land (p. 23). It was generally assumed that agricultural and health conditions would be better in these areas. These attempts have been largely unsuccessful, however, since the Kimam were quite stubborn in their opposition to moving to higher areas, which, as Serpenti puts it, is 'all the more remarkable in view of the exceptional docility (ikut-printah) which has already allowed so many other changes to be made in their original pattern' (p. 23). This opposition is best illustrated by the following example. Serpenti describes the efforts of a missionary who promoted cultivation on dry land on a higher level and hoped his project would eventually bring about the removal of the whole village. An area of about one hectare was prepared, providing an experimental garden site, and the villagers were encouraged to participate in the project. The response was fairly modest, however, and the people themselves were not very optimistic about the possibilities of settling on higher ground. A great problem, as it turned out, was posed by the absence of fertilizer in the form of drifting grass, which plays a vital part in the fertilization of the garden islands. People were getting tired of having to carry heavy clumps of this grass from the swamps to the higher ground every day. Resistance was shown even by those who were otherwise staunch supporters of the mission and the authorities. One man who otherwise always supported the plans of the missionaries predicted that the whole project was doomed to failure eventually because the mud that is so essential for fertilizing the growing crop would not be available. 'Our fathers' fathers have tried it already; why must we do so again and meanwhile neglect our gardens in the village?' (p. 24). Villagers also complained that a shift to higher ground would take them too far away from their sago stock, sago being the most important supplementary food for these villages. Serpenti's concluding comments on the project reflect his concern with the people's own rationale in putting up resistance, while he also tries to point out some erroneous assumptions on the part of the colonial administration. He says: 'For this reason and for the reasons given above it would be economically folly to leave the hard-won capital of good

Border Crossings: Papua New Guinea Models in Irian Jay a

305

soil for an uncertain future on higher grounds. The primary choice of agricultural grounds on Frederik-Hendrik Island cannot be accounted for solely by motives of greater safety. This motive has indeed counted in some places, but the choice between dry land and swamps was decided primarily by agronomic factors' (p. 24). Serpenti's discussion of the people's resistance here shows clearly that he is aware of the power of their active choice, and he represents these people as opposing the move on rational grounds. Serpenti and Oosterwal report recent tendencies among the Kimam and the Tor respectively to change from the original system of sister-exchange marriage to marriage with payment-of a bride price. A comparison of the two authors' treatment of this structural change illustrates the difference in their respective attitudes towards change. Whereas Oosterwal regards innovation as being largely imposed by an outside agency, Serpenti views it chiefly in terms of the people's own motivation. Thus he notes that marriage involving the payment of a bride price was known here even in the past, and identifies several factors which have contributed to its recent more frequent.re-emergence (Serpenti 1977:129-131). He recognizes the element of risk in sister-exchange marriages, which appear to be an important aspect of the system of direct exchange, and notes that local groups harbour a deeply rooted distrust of one another in these respects (p. 128). One party, therefore, will strive to oblige the other side to complete the exchange, particularly when there is a spatial and social distance between the persons involved. Hence a complete bride price would be handed over to the bride's group, which would be returned in full after the second part of the exchange contract became effective. As Serpenti points out, 'in such cases the payment has no connection with a ceremonial gift or countergift, but is regarded purely as a security' (p. 129). Sister-exchange marriages are difficult to carry into effect smoothly. They tend to give rise to logistic difficulties that may lead to delays in exchanges. This, as we have seen, in turn may lead to reinforcement of the ties by presentations of gifts. Finally, such presentations may completely replace sister-exchange itself, by which innovation'process a bride-price system is actually brought about. Serpenti lists a number of other factors that have influenced this development in his analysis (p. 131): 1. The freedom of choice at marriage is safeguarded by the government, and the opportunities for young people to have their wishes taken into account have increased. 2. The resettlement of villages in larger units and the 'Pax Neerlandica' have served to break down mutual distrust and brought about a process of integration resulting in a greater choice of potential marriage partners. 3. Parental preference for bride-price marriage may also result from an . ever-increasing demand for and dependence on European goods, since this often constitutes the only means of obtaining these. A young man's decision to go and work away from the island for a year or so is often

306

Gabriele Stiirzenhofecker

promoted by the need to collect sufficient goods and cash to pay the bride price. Factors nos 1. and 3. here directly reflect the exercise of indigenous choice and innovation; factor no 2. provides part of the background against which the change in choice took place. 3. Conclusion Oosterwal and Serpenti were both Dutch ethnographers who worked at the time of Dutch colonial control of western New Guinea. By placing their accounts of the Tor and Kimam marriage systems and responses to altered conditions of life in a comparative perspective, we are able to see that Oosterwal tends to take a more 'colonial' view of the people studied, while Serpenti emphasizes more their creative abilities to shape changes in their lives. He is less successful, however, in portraying the role of women in Kimam society, a feature which is underlined more markedly in the work of Klaus-Friedrich Koch on the Yale. III. GENDER RELATIONS AND GROUP STRUCTURE Recent writings on gender relations in Papua New Guinea societies have indicated how important it is to study the roles women play in societies in general, even if they have formerly been portrayed as being dominated by the activities of men, as is so well exemplified by Rena Lederman's restudy of the Mendi in the Southern Highlands of Papua New Guinea (Lederman 1986; M. Strathern 1987,1989; Gewertz and Errington 1987; Sexton 1986). It is now generally accepted that an understanding of gender relations is crucial for gaining an insight into a given social reality, and in some instances it can be vital for an appreciation and comprehension of social phenomena which would otherwise seem obscure or random. Lederman's study on politics and social relations in Mendi, for example, demonstrates the analytical significance of looking not only at social ralations between males, but also at those between women and men, and between women themselves. This author shows that a male view of Mendi society is insufficient if one wants to fully grasp the Mendi's social world, in particular the social logic of exchanges. Furthermore, her work supplements and deepens the ethnographic record of the Mendi people as previously presented by D'Arcy Ryan (Ryan 1961). Most important for our purposes here, perhaps particularly as regards Koch's account of marriage and exchange among the Yale, is her illustration that Mendi culture and history are structured in terms of two relationship principles, twem and sem, in consequence of which she uncovers the female involvement in transactions. Twem and sem both denote exchange relationships, the one between individual affines and the other between corporate groups. By focusing not only on the sociality created by means of corporate groups, but in addition on network relationships, Lederman provides us with a network analysis that demonstrates the significance of women in Mendi social life, eluci-

Border Crossings: Papua New Guinea Models in Irian Jaya

307

dates the distinct social logic of twem relations as offshoots of sem relations, and explicates the differences between male and female involvement in exchanges and the social implications of this. The purpose of concentrating on women's participation in exchange thus is not just to criticize ethnographers who have focused more on the male world of the societies studied, but, more importantly, to ask questions arising from readings of these texts which are written 'with only one voice' and, wherever possible, to complement these representations from the given accounts with their 'missing halves', especially in cases like those of the Yale and the Kimam, where restudies are hardly possible. The examination of the institutional categories of territoriality, inheritance, exchange and land use in the two ethnographies below is intended to illustrate how the position and roles of women may be more significant in the social organization than the two relevant authors allow for (Koch 1967, 1968, 1974; Serpenti 1977). For instance, the role of women in Koch's account is veiled and obscured by his categories of inheritance patterns and descent and by his (or the Yale men's?) model of 'wife acquisition' with reference to marriage (Koch 1968, 1974). 1. The Yale a. Political and Territorial Organization The Yale are a Highland people located between the Baliem Valley and the Ok Region in the province of Irian Jaya, practising shifting cultivation based on the sweet potato. They recognize patrilineal descent, by which every Yale is linked to a particular lineage. Each lineage belongs to a specific exogamous moiety, the exogamy of these moieties being one of the most fundamental principles of Yale social organization (Koch 1967:46; Zollner 1977:28). Marriage and sexual intercourse prohibitions extend to the relatives of one's mother, although these belong to the opposite moiety. Residence is usually patrilocal. The nucleus of the political organization is the men's house, which is the smallest but also the most active political unit (Zollner 1977:22). Men of different lineages all belong to one men's house. Immigrants and men living uxorilocally can join a men's house other than that to which their father belongs, continuing residence making them full members of the men's house. Men's houses are located in each village ward. Two or more wards constitute a village with a single sacred men's house. According to Zollner (1977:23) every village consists of two or more wards and each ward has at least one men's house. He differs from Koch in asserting that out of all the men's houses in a given village, one is selected as the sacred men's house for the entire village community. Here we find a level of political integration not discussed by Koch. Zollner, who worked as a missionary among the Yale for 14 years, corrects Koch's data in many important

308

Gabriek Stiirzenhofecker

respects, e.g. regarding the structure of men's houses in the village (see above) and especially with respect to the importance of matrilateral kin in the cases of dispute settlement discussed below. Each village has one or more big man (ap souwari), who represents his village ward and can intervene in disputes across ward boundaries. Villages furthermore maintain hamlets (horoho laruk ambeg) in distant garden sites, which are inhabited for long periods during the planting and harvesting seasons. Hamlets may become the starting-point for new villages, presumably when the soil of the gardens close to the main village is exhausted and the women have still to work in distant garden areas. Women plant, look after and harvest the staple crop, the sweet potato, in an overall harsh ecological setting. It is their task, further, to raise the pigs which are such an important exchange item here, as throughout the whole of the New Guinea Highlands. b. Inheritance and Property Rights Looking at inheritance patterns and property rights among the Yale, it becomes quite evident that women are more important and influential than Koch may have thought. In general terms, his exposition is ambiguous about the precise nature of garden property rights, inheritance and harvesting privileges. Ownership of garden land appears to be more structured than Koch admits. His own material suggests that ownership rights constantly shift across lineages with time. Inheritance of land and certain types of property among the Yale grants more effective rights to sisters and sisters' children than Koch provides for in his analytical interpretations. He does, however, provide us with the necessary material to re-interpret his account. Koch writes: 'Both male and female children inherit their father's gardens and trees, but the shares allotted to girls are considerably smaller than those given to sons. The trees and fields given to a girl represent a dowry payment, since such property is transferred to her in several portions immediately following her marriage. The arrangement applies only if her husband's place of residence allows him to prepare the land for her — which is the case in all intra-village marriages. While a man controls use and exploitation of his wife's land and trees, not he but their children ultimately gain ownership of these resources. If a man's wife dies before their children have grown up, he may continue to work on her land until his remarriage, when the gardens revert to his wife's brothers. They may later return part of the land to his sons provided their affinal exchange relationship with their deceased sister's husband continues. If the couple have a son old enough to make his own gardens, he will be the direct heir of his deceased mother's land regardless of his father's possible remarriage' (Koch 1974:49). Koch does not specifically include or exclude women in this account:

Border Crossings: Papua New Guinea Models in Irian Jay a

309

we are told that both male and female children inherit their father's gardens and trees. However, with respect to women's gardens the exposition is more equivocal, since the reference to 'children' is predominantly to males. The idealized notion of male control and ownership of land obscures the position and importance enjoyed by women in the overall system. A widow is more attractive as a marriage partner if she owns much land (Koch 1968:94). Women, then, gain access to and control over some resources independently of the land rights they acquire in their husband's ward. These property rights in her native ward, perhaps, form the basis of a woman's right to be a trader. Furthermore, the role of women in Yale society as producers of subsist- . ence crops and pig rearers perhaps has its roots in the share of land which they receive in their native ward at the time of their marriage.-It is conceivable that this share also gives a woman and her family the ability to negotiate about a chosen marriage. We know that women can act as traders in their own right (Koch 1974:255), and they seem to exercise a choice as regards their own marriages (Koch 1968:97), but it is not clear from the account to what extent their ownership of land facilitates independence of action for them. Koch, like Serpenti, reports that the husband manages these resources and prepares the field 'for her', but the meaning of this phrase 'for her' is not very clear. In the long run the land as an asset is intended for the woman's children. Presumably her husband can not give it to his children by another wife (Koch does not discuss this point). If this is correct, we see here the empowerment with time of a matricentral cell, at least, if not of the woman herself. Perhaps my interpretation of inheritance and property rights in Yale society would have been easier if Koch had talked to female informants — something which he himself explicitly states to be absent from his work (1974:100). The aspects of women as social actors are amazingly opaque in Koch's account. The only instance in which he reveals anything to the reader about women maintaining their own trading networks is in a footnote on page 255. Here he says: 'A woman may resort to a special way of expressing her intent to terminate a trading partnership. If her request for a pig fails, she may defecate on the sleeping floor or in the fireplace of her host's hut before returning to her home village' (Koch 1974). In ignoring or downplaying these facts, Koch underestimates all those factors that contribute to a certain economic independence of women and which suggest that women may be more active in exchanges than the author is prepared to say. c. Exchange The context of exchange among the Yale people can be described as narrow, because the most important exchanges are between affines (Koch 1974:106). In addition, exchanges are the only channels for friendship.

310

Gabriek Sturzenhofecker

Usually sons inherit and maintain the exchange networks of their fathers. For immigrants the only real way to enter an exchange network is through a daughter's marriage. Women are depicted as passive links between groups (Koch 1974:60-1,104,106-7) with no input into the exchanges or the allocation of valuables, although affinal exchanges are based on pig production, which, in turn, is the responsibility of women and depends on the accessibility and availability of land to a woman so that she may plant gardens in order to be able to obtain enough sweet potatoes for her family and the pigs. The intensiveness of exchange relations thus is affected, at least indirectly, by the intensiveness of garden production. It is not possible on the basis of Koch's account to enter further into a discussion of exchange and ceremonial prestations in Yale society and of the position occupied by women in these or of precisely how the exchange system relates to women, since this author's references to women's activities in this institutional category are very scarce, and he imputes agency only to men. d. Marriage Koch, as I stated above, reports a total absence of female informants (1974:100) and recognizes a masculine bias in informants' case reports (1968:102). Marriage is primarily presented through the eyes of Yale men, to whom it is an 'incidence of wife acquisition' (1968:86), and who see women and girls 'as the objects of this action' (1968:92). A careful reading of his text brings to light a very different aspect of Yale social life, however, namely the acquisition of land by women through marriage. The criticism here is not so much of Koch's exposition of marriage as perceived by Yale men, since they may very well foster an ideology of this kind. Rather, the criticism concerns the fact that Koch, apparently not cautioned by his presumably biased sources on this matter, turns what may be a specific male ideology into an analytic framework of his own, as well as into his own conclusion. It thus is not easy in many instances for the reader to distinguish the voice of the Yale men on substantive issues from Koch's own: sometimes the reader has to 'guess who is talking'. A further problematic point that arises here is the question whether, even if Yale men perceive marriage in terms of'wife acquisition', this is sufficient to justify a representation of marriage just in those terms for the whole society. This is all the more relevant since Koch himself writes, in a passage which is in direct contradiction with his own main approach, 'no matter how her marriage-after-courtship is negotiated, it is the girl who makes the ultimate decision' (1968:97). Through marriage, a woman acquires land rights in her native ward (see above). But through her marriage a woman also obtains the usufruct of her husband's gardens. In fact, before the final conclusion of the marriage arrangements, the husband's gardens are shown to his wife-to-be, who is accompanied by her mother, younger siblings and married sisters. Koch writes:

Border Crossings: Papua New Guinea Models in Irian Jaya

311

'Before departing, the visitor tells the girl's father where the "showing" of gardens and the party is to take place the following day. "Showing of gardens" regularly follows the conclusion of a marriage arrangement through negotiation or without. This act involves the transference of harvesting privileges in the man's gardens to his wife-to-be. In the case of a marriage-after-courtship, the event commonly takes place a day or two after the match was arranged. Several members of both families participate. The girl is always accompanied by her mother (or any woman holding custody over her), younger siblings, and any married sister she may have and who is able to come. Similarly, the boy's mother (or any woman who has taken her place) and younger siblings of his are always there. The father and elder brothers of the boy more often than the girl's older agnates engage in the transaction and then regularly add plots of their own to those provided by the boy. The participation of other relatives on either side is largely determined by their direct involvement in the preceding negotiations. For instance, if a boy's elder brother has sent his wife to negotiate the match, she is also present. If a girl's elder brother mediated the arrangement, his wife and their young children are likely to take part. In general, the intermediaries and/or their wives and children always have a share in the showing of gardens, while attendance of the boy's and girl's other relatives is a matter of preference and convenience'. (Koch 1968:96). It is noteworthy that the showing of the gardens only applies to a husband's gardens. There is no showing of the wife's gardens in her native ward. This could imply on the one hand that there are differences in soil fertility which make it necessary for the wife-to-be and her agnates to take the quality of the garden land into account in the final decision-making process, since it is the woman who will work the land. The showing of the gardens and the transference of harvesting privileges furthermore mark the beginning of a series of exchange transactions between the parties involved. It is the husband's responsibility to prepare land for his wife. Koch notes an interesting correlation of affinal exchanges and land preparation, in that 'probably the more extensive the flow of reciprocal gifts between the affines and the husband the stronger will be his motivation to prepare land for his wife' (Koch 1968:103). My suggestion concerning the prominence of garden land in marriage arrangements can be substantiated by a quotation showing how parents may try to appeal also to their son to agree to a marriage arrangement, viz: 'We do not have any good gardens here. There are only bad gardens so you too will have to work on bad land.' (Koch 1968:97). In Koch's interpretation, the girl is symbolically represented by the gardens. The reference to the poor soil quality in Koch's view is in conformity with the customary depreciative expressions that accompany the presentation of gifts. Another interpretation of this statement

312

Gabriele Stiirzenhofecker

could be, however, that the people actually mean what they say and that this is also intimated to the wife-to-be, especially since it is she who will have to work the land; and that soil fertility thus can stratify marriageable men. Another example supporting the impression that women are more properly conceived of as social actors than as mere objects is Koch's case no. 7, which he gives the rather misleading title 'The Case of the Competitive Abductors' (Koch 1974:122). This case concerns a woman who had liaisons with and then left three men between 1963 and 1965. While Koch's account focuses on the conflict between the men stemming from the woman's behaviour, the pivot of the dispute, namely the woman, is referred to only in passing. In actual fact, however, it is the woman who is the actor in this case and who has caused the trouble among the men (cf. the following remarks in Koch's own text: 'Wampexasa decided to desert him and let herself be taken by Hampok'; 'Wampexasa accepted a proposal by Walusa to stay with him'. 'Hampok "eloped" with Wampexasa ..., a year later she deserted him', Koch 1974:123). The very notion of 'abduction' appears to be misplaced here, as it is the woman who took the decisive steps. The whole case, furthermore, implies a remarkable degree of choice and possibility for women in the matter of taking and leaving husbands. The reason why the woman left all these men in the first place is not given. This is unfortunate, because by omitting and ignoring the motives behind Wampexasa's decision, her actions are made to look random and promiscuous. e. Mediation and Matrilateral Kin Koch is very concerned with the attribute of authority. In a situation where specific judicial authorities are absent, he immediately expects outbreaks of violence. Nevertheless, he himself recognizes a set of distinctions between negotiation, mediation, adjudication, arbitration, coercion and avoidance (1974:27). He sees negotiation as a process without third-party intervention, whereas mediation does involve a third party. While in his overall scheme he allows for effective settlement through any of these pocedures, therefore, in his summary he denies significance to anything but judicial authority, as witness the following passage: 'In summary, my analysis of disputes among the Jale will conclude that the lack of political integration and the absence of judicial authorities make coercive self-help an institutionalized procedure of conflict management. Unless common interests based upon kinship and co-residence intervene, conflicts in Jale society have a pronounced tendency to escalate into warfare. The implications of my analysis go far beyond an understanding of conflict management among a small population in the Highlands of New Guinea in that they provide insights into the problems of international war and peace' (Koch 1974:35).

Border Crossings: Papua New Guinea Models in Irian Jay a

313

It is the category of mediation which is most interesting to us. Zollner puts forward a different view: 'K. F. Koch comes to the conclusion in his discussion of conflict cases that in Yale society there are no third-party authorities (Koch 1967:294). The mother's brother of course is no "juridical authority". In his function as a mediator, however, he can be effectively understood as a "third party" in a broader sense. In Koch this fact is not discussed' (Zollner 1977:401, footnote 10; my translation from the German). Zollner also notes that Koch generally underplays the role of the mother's brother and matrilateral kin, particularly in connection with initiation ceremonies. Here Koch reports patrilineal kin to act as assistants for the young initiates (boys), claiming an exclusion of matrilateral kin in the associated pork distributions. Zollner writes in this connection: 'In my experience there is no doubt that it is the mother's brother [who looks after the initiate]. But this observation contrasts with Koch's account. According to him they were patrilineal kin' (Zollner 1977:402). With respect to the consumption of the pork offered by the young initiate, Koch writes that the matrilateral kin are excluded here, while Zollner insists that, according to his observations, 'the mother's brothers did participate here, because the pig was not provided by them, but by the boy's father' (Zollner 1977:406). It appears that Koch overemphasized patrilineality in his analysis of Yale society and underemphasized mediation. The importance of matrilateral kin in dispute settlement alluded to by Zollner is crucial for our discussion of the position of women in this society. If matrilateral kin can mediate in disputes, this should at least give some standing to the women who form the basis of the relevant links. 2. The Kimam The Kimam people have developed an intricate agricultural system, in which cultivation of the main crops, including taro and yams, takes place on man-made garden islands. Serpenti considers that they nevertheless have a marginal livelihood, and that their generally bilateral kinship structure is causally connected with this fact. He writes: 'Marginal livelihood and technical primitiveness may in certain circumstances be among the factors which constitute a strong impulse for the development of such types of structure' (Serpenti 1977:71). The logical basis for this analysis, which is often mooted in discussions of a variety of societies in which the kinship system is loosely labelled 'cognatic' or 'bilateral', is that bilateral systems offer a greater range of options for the individual than do unilineal ones, and hence offer a greater insurance against demographic and environmental adversities. Prima facie this argument seems reasonable enough when applied to the Kimam, but as a general explanation for the emergence of 'bilateral systems' it is contestable. In fact the proposition

314

Gabriele Stiirzenhofecker

needs to be narrowed down in the fashion advocated by Barrau and Scheffler in their review of Serpenti's book, through an attempt to examine in more detail how different aspects of Kimam social life are governed by different customary rules and how these may or may not be causally connected with environmental pressures (Barrau and Scheffler 1966). A considerable obstacle to understanding and reinterpreting Serpenti's information is posed by his relatively unsystematic use of technical terms in the analysis of kinship systems, particularly that for the crucial category of 'bilateral system'. Barrau and Scheffler (1966) have pointed this out much earlier, but their discovery, which has been used extensively in the literature on Papua New Guinea (see, e.g., A. J. Strathern 1972), has not been followed through in any detail for the Kimam. To illustrate the problem, I cite the following cluster of statements in Serpenti's text: 'Murdock has demonstrated a statistical correlation between the use of the criterion of relative age and bilateral kinship structures. This is quite in accordance with the situation on Frederik-Hendrik Island, where descent is also bilateral' (p. 67). 'In bilateral societies there is more concentration on ego's generation, that is, horizontal kinship is more important in such societies than in unilineal ones' (p. 67). 'Tjipente (tji man, pente tree) is a kinship category, the membership of which may be acquired in both a patrilineal and a matrilineal way' (p. 68). 'The tjipente is a personal kindred, i.e. a bilateral kinship group of rather vague definition' (p. 69). 'Many informants tended to identify the tjipente with the jaantjewe [expanded siblinghood group]' (p. 70). 'A bilateral structure seems to be the most suitable type for FrederikHendrik Island'(p. 71). Taking these statements at face value, it is impossible to build up a coherent picture, because they are mutually contradictory. 'Descent' is supposedly 'bilateral', yet the tjipente is a 'personal kindred' group. Nevertheless, it also appears to be constituted by both patrilineal and matrilineal kin! Clarification can be sought both from Serpenti's text in general and by employing concepts from the Papua New Guinea ethnographies. The relevant concepts are:

Border Crossings: Papua New Guinea Models in Irian Jay a

315

1. The distinction between descent and filiation (Barnes 1962; Meggitt 1965; A. J. Strathern 1972, drawing on the ideas of Scheffler 1966 and Sahlins 1965). 2. The distinction between ideology and action, and the rhetorical use of norms and values. 3. The distinction between bilateral kinship as manifested in 'the kindred' and the less frequently found principle of cognatic descent as a rule of group formation, such as Scheffler found for Choiseul (Scheffler 1966). If we apply these concepts to the Kimam case, we discover two things: first, it is very doubtful whether there is any indigenous rule that is phrased in descent terms rather than simply in terms of 'cumulative patrifiliation' (Barnes 1962); and second, following this point, action groups are recruited from cores of personal kindred. The intersection between personal kindred and cumulative patrifiliation is found in the kwanda, or exogamous ward, whose boundaries are defined in terms of a third principle, that of locality, which is also highly significant in the Papua New Guinea cases (cf., e.g., Langness 1964). The answer to Scheffler and Barrau's above-indicated problem therefore appears to be: (a) in the domain of the inheritance of garden land, cumulative patrifiliation applies, but it is not an absolute norm, and is much modified by adoption, an institution which is very marked among the Kimam; (b) in the domain of action groups, locality, friendship, and the extended use of classificatory sibling terms work together to generate cooperative groups of people for various tasks. These are the broadly 'bilateral' groups which Serpenti refers to. Putting (a) and (b) together, we can say that filiation (and adoption) is dominant cross- generationally, or vertically, and siblingship is dominant intra-generationally, or horizontally. We can now apply these abstract generalizations to certain refractory details in the ethnography. Prior to the relocation of the people in residental villages by the Dutch Administration, the basic residential unit was the patha or dwelling-island, associated with other garden islands, made by human effort. Male siblings controlled these patha, and competition between elder and younger brothers gave rise to fission in the joint families, and the creation of new patha. A small number of patha thus related through intergenerational processes in the family developmental cycle formed a kwanda, a local unit which Serpenti calls the ward. The internal structure of the kwanda was based on virilocality (not necessarily patrivirilocality) of marriage. Wives were expected to join their husbands, but these might have quarrelled with their paternal kin and gone to live with their mother's people, where they could even be adopted. Serpenti further notes: 'There is a decided preference for siblings to live together. If these

316

Gabriek Stiirzenhofecker are usually brothers and less often brothers and sisters, that does not mean that there is a common norm to this effect' (p. 76).

And again later: 'Sometimes a woman returns to her own kinsmen after her husband's death, in which case she comes again under the authority of her elder brother' (p. 82). 'A man may follow his wife to her father's kwanda if the latter has no male descendants or other male relatives to take care of his gardens' (p. 83). It is apparent that these are practical arrangements, arising from individual circumstances. 'Adoption', a category which Serpenti does not problematize, is employed to seal the reaffiliation of children. With all these points explained here and there in Serpenti's text, it comes as no real surprise to read also as his conclusion that 'The Kimam by no means regard their society as being patrilineal' (p. 85). Nevertheless, he argues that from the superficial composition of kwanda genealogies, a kind of patrilineal impression emerges. However: 'The structure of kwanda is not the result of a patrilineal system but rather of factors that, unintentionally we might say, produce a patrilineal tendency' (p. 85). What is wrong with this final formulation is the suggestion that there is any such tendency at all. 'Cumulative patrifiliation' appears to subsume the facts even better here than in many of the Papua New Guinea cases, since the Kimam do not appear to have even an ideology or a rhetorical norm of patrilineal descent. We tend to understand them better, then, the more we remove this term from the discussion of the facts. In illustration of the above, we may cite a case of adoption, as well as Serpenti's general statement on garden inheritance. 1. A man adopted two boys, one of whom returned to his own kinsmen after a few years, while the other one stayed and inherited all of his adoptive father's land. Because of his kind character, he shared some garden islands with his adoptive brother, although he was under no obligation to do so. Although one of the boys returned to his kinsfolk, the relationship between him and the other boy was still conceived of as one between siblings. However, owing to his spatial separation and change of residence, he had lost all claims to garden land in his original, natal group and was dependent on his brother's generosity. Through adoption, then, a man acquires the right of inheritance in a new kwanda, losing these rights in his natal kwanda (pp. 122,124). However, this rule applies only insofar as the man takes up residence with the family who have adopted him. Residence thus is very significant, and probably is ideologically underpinned in some way. Indeed, Serpenti himself stresses this where he says: 'The

Border Crossings: Papua New Guinea Models in Irian Jay a

317

criterion of kinship is in fact given a territorial interpretation. People who live together are regarded as being ipso facto related' (p. 134). Here we are in the domain of rhetoric, governed not by descent but by locality. It would be fascinating to know how this is mirrored in indigenous symbols (cf. A. J. Strathern 1982, and LiPuma 1988, on the Melpa and the Maring of PNG respectively; see also Serpenti 1977:148-152). 2. 'Women are excluded from inheritance' of garden land, Serpenti reports (p. 121). He continues: 'Gardens are passed on from one man to another man... Inheritance is not purely patrilineal for sometimes gardens may be given to daughters' or sisters' sons. Usually, however, these kinsmen have been adopted which means that in theory at least inheritance is indeed patrilineal' (p. 121). It is once again the very category of patrilineality that is analytically inappropriate here. We have been told that the Kimam do not regard their society as patrilineal, so that the conclusion should be that 'adoption' does not have the purpose of adapting exceptions to a patrilineal rule, since no such rule exists. The significance of the qualification 'in theory at least' in Serpenti's text thus is left hanging in the epistemological air. Then another paradox presents itself. Kimam society is obviously maledominated. Serpenti tends to use the male actors as points of reference when discussing residential moves, yet there is no rule that only brothers can reside together. Women's husbands sometimes join them, while women, when widowed, sometimes return to their native places. I suspect here that the agency of women themselves is being somewhat ignored in these formulations, as also when Serpenti speaks of them as 'objects of exchange' in the 'sister-exchange' marriage rules, viz.: 'Virilocality is connected with the asymmetrical relation between the sexes in the directexchange type of marriage, in which women are objects of exchange' (p. 83). Is this an 'etic' or an 'emic' statement? Does it reflect local ideology or the author's own analytical perspective? Much later, he himself repeats Levi-Strauss's own rueful admission that something is wrong with this kind of model, since 'the woman as an object of exchange cannot simply be reduced to a sign because she herself is a producer of signs' (p. 264). As Serpenti notes, elopement is one means on Frederik-Hendrik Island 'for a woman to play an active part' in marriage arrangements (p. 264). This insight has repercussions for Serpenti's text, prompting a query about his statement on p. 83, and also p. 124, that 'Women are the objects of an exchange that takes place for the benefit of their brothers'. We can only suspect here that his formulation is a direct reflection of the way that Kimam men, perhaps particularly older men, represented their society to the ethnographer. Even if it is literally correct, it still gives rise to the question, often broached in neo-Marxist analyses (e.g., Godelier 1986 on the Baruya), of why women should acquiesce in all of these arrangements. At least the question must be asked 'What benefits do the females derive in comparison with the males?' Again, from the male point

318

Gabriele Stiirzenhofecker

of view, we read: 'My wife's kinsmen are the heart, the whole world. Nothing and no-one is more important than they are. If I have anything at all, I share it with them' (p. 136). If this is so, does not the woman, as the linking person, have some scope for influence? Such influence, if it exists, should also affect the competitive food exchanges, ndambu, which are made between competing groups, and for which affines can be recruited as supporters rather than as competitive recipients (p. 237). Although it is the men who cultivate the taro and yams which are used in ndambu, women also contribute to the success of ndambu through their cultivation of sweet potatoes and raising of pigs. Ploeg (1980:168) has touched on this, noting that Serpenti's book lacks an account of pig-raising, while it is wellknown that pigs are fattened for feasts, and Serpenti himself writes: 'The pigs are looked after exclusively by the women and, as in many regions of New Guinea, they are often pampered like children' (p. 230). Moreover, we are told that the men must kill them in the absence of women; that a pig is never eaten by its owner; and that compensation for a pig is given by the recipient in the form of dog's teeth for a man and one or more nautilus shells for a woman (p. 230). Finally, 'the exchange of pigs also forms a notable aspect of the ndambu between paburu [= village sections]' (p. 230). There was definitely a 'pig complex' among the Kimam, then, and we know from Papua New Guinea studies (e.g., Feil 1987) what the potential significance of this is for the role of women, even if the pigs are not numerous (Ploeg 1980:168, quoting a personal communication from Serpenti). Yet, in no part of Serpenti's account do we find a systematic discussion of the social value of women, either as producers or as links in exchange networks. We are told that 'each group always intends to get as much women as possible' (pp. 128-129), but not why. Perhaps a clue lies in the fact that it is the women who provide much of the actual daily food through the preparation of fern flour, cassava, and sago and the cultivation of sweet potatoes (p. 53). It appears that both sexes have a stake in both the mundane and the ceremonial sides of the economy, and if that is so, then it is impossible to regard women as mere objects of exchange (cf. Bossen 1988:127). 3. Conclusion We find that Koch has underplayed the role of Yale women as social actors in two different spheres of life, marriage and dispute mediation. By contrast, Sexton's study of the Wok Meri movement in the Eastern Highlands of Papua New Guinea — another area supposedly characterized by male domination — has shown concisely that women had a sufficient basis in the local social system to develop new institutions of exchange controlled by themselves. Of course, the emergence of the Wok Meri was also facilitated by colonially induced change (pacification, etc.), but the crucial initiatives were taken by women, who grounded their efforts in existing

Border Crossings: Papua New Guinea Models in Irian Jaya

319

social networks and cultural symbols (Sexton 1986). In general, as was already mentioned above, Lederman's work on Mendi convincingly rehabilitates for the record the role of women in exchanges, which was downplayed in Ryan's early account. Similarly Serpenti's discussion of the Kimam is marked by a tendency to underemphasize the roles of women in the system of marriage and exchange, and to regard women as objects rather than subjects of action, a tendency to which he only belatedly admits in his own text. IV. THEOCENTRISM AND CULTURAL CHANGE Theocentrism in ethnographic writing may be defined as the tendency to organize the ethnographic account around the concept of the deity. The question of theocentrism in mission ethnography has not been dealt with to any significant degree in critical analysis (but cf. Trouwborst 1990). However, it is particularly important because the views on change which missionaries adopt in their descriptions of tribal societies are closely connected with their own social position within these societies. In the case of Irian Jaya it is especially important to indicate this fact because today we are chiefly dependent on missionaries for ethnographic studies there, since they are generally the only persons to be granted access to the people. This applies particularly to the highlands in the interior of Irian Jaya, where for the past twenty years only missionaries have been permitted to conduct research. Their studies, therefore, exist in a privileged, self-reinforcing domain, not being amenable to checking by other fieldworkers (but see Miedema 1990). It is, thus, all the more important to scrutinize critically what they have written. A notable proportion of this literature is predominantly concerned with the question of change, seen in terms of religious conversion (for example, Hayward 1980, Richardson 1977). In these writings, the paramount aim appears to be to provide a moral justification for the presence of the mission. In the pursuit of this goal a modus operandi develops which involves two mutually contradictory images of the people studied, viz.: (a) the supposition of a general inclination towards Christianity on the part of the people, occasioned by cultural dissatisfaction and a predisposition towards a Christian life in the traditional religious sphere; (b) a perception of the people as the 'primitive other', underscoring a disinclination on their part to become converted to Christianity. According to this latter conception there is a vast gap between the world of the 'other' and the world of the author, and the people are far removed from whatever is typical of 'our time', but are part of a long-gone past. Usually they are depicted as primitive cannibals, 'engulfed in the darkness of Irian Jaya, in terror and bondage they serve woman-hating and child-despising gods' (Richardson 1977). The justification given for evangelizing among these tribespeople is of an obvious moral kind: the Christian duty to deliver these lost souls unto the light. In the former conception, however, indigenous society is represented as being disposed towards Christianity, and its

320

Gabriele Stiirzenhofecker

members as being closer 'to us'; the gap is small and can be bridged with surprising ease. The general cultural dissatisfaction that is posited here is a result of the people's perception that there is something substantially wrong with their own culture and the realization that they themselves cannot generate change. The mission, therefore, is welcomed as an outside agency to guide them on their way. In both (a) and (b) the basic assumption is that the indigenous culture has something wrong with it, either as regards the traits it possesses or because of the absence of a particular trait, which only introduced change can offer it. In either case, therefore, the role of the missionary as an agent of change is justified by the description of the culture itself. Further, what is denied the people in each case is a creative capacity to change of their own. The trend of our category (a) is exemplified by the writings of D. Hayward. This missionary completed eleven years of service in Irian Jaya with the Unevangelized Field Mission. Most of this time was spent among the Western Dani, in the Highlands of Irian Jaya, while his book attempts to account for the pattern of conversion with reference to the whole of the Dani region (Hayward 1980). All his generalizations, however, are made on the basis of the case he knew best: that of the Western Dani, living in the mountainous regions between Mulia and Ilaga (see map). Serious missionary work in the Dani region in general was not undertaken until after the second World War; this was intensified by the Christian and Missionary Alliance (C.& M.A.) and what is now called the Asia Pacific Christian Mission (A.P.C.M.) during the 1950s. The Unevangelized Field Mission (U.F.M.) came into being as the result of a reorganization of a number of veteran missionaries (Hayward 1980:117). Shortly after that a number of other mission agencies developed an interest in the Dani people, such as the Australian Baptist Missionary Society (A.B.M.S.), the Regions Beyond Mission Union (R.B.M.U.), and the U.F.M. itself. Negotiations between these societies resulted in a partitioning of the Dani region in such a way that each mission could operate in separate areas, where they could open up unevangelized valleys, without, however, compromising the geographic or cultural integrity of existing stations (Hayward 1980:3). Within six years, then, virtually all the Dani people had come into contact with resident missionaries belonging to one of these several missions. According to Hayward's account, the Dani's response to Christianity differed markedly from region to region; while it was apparently very enthusiastic among the Western Dani with whom Hayward worked, it was considerably less so among the Grand Valley Dani. The Western Dani further saw a number of movements (cargo cults) arise in the course of their history of contact (Hayward 1980:125-140). One concern of Hayward's account is to explain these voluntaristic movements, which he sees as being born out of a general dissatisfaction of the people with their culture and their aspirations for hai (eternal life) (p. 130). Concerning the Damal, a group living to the west of the Western Dani, he writes:

Border Crossings: Papua New Guinea Models in Irian Jay a

321

'But, in common with the other cultures of the world some of those questions [about life] defied satisfactory answers and for the Damal there was a deeply felt dissatisfaction with their culture, not unlike that which we have noted existed among the Western Dani. The Damal reaction became a focus upon a millenarian existence which they desired above all else. The term by which they refer to this particular expectation was hai and it dominated their mythology, and the attention of some of their most respected leaders' (p. 127). The notion of dissatisfaction is the chief explanatory tool employed by Hayward to explain the people's decision to become converted. The Western Dani, like the Damal, are also concerned about the lamentable condition of their culture and are dissatisfied with it 'because of its poor achievements' (p. 109). The reasons for this are obvious to Hayward, who writes (apparently following O'Brien and Ploeg 1966): 'Their traditional rites had failed to ensure healthy pigs and large crops, their attempts at justice had led to an unending chain of revenge and counter-revenge and their ceremonial exchanges had induced big-men and, aspiring big-men to press for payments of wealth which became onerous to other segments of the community. It is very possible that by the time the missionaries came into their lives the Western Dani at least were "fed up" with the competition of the big-men which was exemplified in outright greediness. As we shall see in the following sections their conversion to Christianity led to their rejection of all forms of traditional wealth and even included a movement in which the big-men were no longer to be considered big-men ... Another source of dissatisfaction in their traditional culture which was evident in certain areas, was the dissatisfaction over ill health ... And finally, their dissatisfaction with their culture was expressed in the heightened sense of anxiety which the Western Dani felt toward the practice of women's sorcery {mum or magagiraky (p. 109). Here, then, we are confronted with a historical dilemma faced by the Western Dani and other groups with regard to their own culture prior to the arrival of the mission. But why could not the people themselves find a solution for this predicament? The critical point for our discussion is that the locus of change for Hayward is not within the people but outside the people. The people for him are not the agents of change, but its recipients. The success of the change depends largely on their openness to it, which in turn is generated by their overall dissatisfaction with their own culture. The Western Dani's openness to change was testified, according to Hayward 'by an attitude of restlessness ... and a concern for survival' (p. 106), while later 'they were open and ready for change which came with the arrival of the missionaries' (p. 110). The first steps towards the adoption of a new worldview were taken with the burning of sacred objects (Hayward refers to these as fetishes). In his interpretation of these steps to

322

Gabriele Stiirzenhofecker

repudiate culturally meaningful and powerful objects, Hayward tries to identify the indigenous rationale explaining this choice. He construes it as a voluntary act by the people stemming from a history of latent feelings of frustration, as testified by ten previous small-scale Messianic movements for the coming of hai, which flowered suddenly and then ended in disillusionment (p. 127). The emic concept of hai is later equated with the etic concept of Christianity, embodying all that was desired but never before attained. Hayward writes: 'Then, came the inevitable encounter when Christianity with its particular worldview met up with the Damal expectation for hai' (p. 127). The interpretation of the change to Christianity further revolves around the concept of'people's movement to Christ'. Broadly speaking, in this view the search for an approach towards Christ is a universally given condition; however, people may need the encouragement, guidance and direction of a missionary. Hayward illustrates this viewpoint in his concluding remarks about the 'fetish' burning in Ilaga, as follows: 'The total spiritual mosaic ... that went into that first fetish burning . in the Ilaga included all of the influences of the Damal worldview and aspirations for hai; the entire historical dimension which accented and heightened this longing and finally the timely arrival of a band of missionaries, uniquely prepared to accept and to encourage and to direct the movement as a movement towards Christ' (p. 130). The rhetorical and emotional tone of this passage is not a mere intellectual exercise but rather is an explanation of the people's inner drives, culminating with the advent of the missionaries in their final conversion, as he sees it. The presence and work of the mission then is given justification by the putative search of the indigenous population for the very thing the mission brought to them. In conclusion, then, we can say that Hay ward's conceptualization of the phenomenon of change is as follows: 1. He sees the people as ready for but unable to effect change themselves. 2. Indigenous mythological themes and concepts (hai) are taken as being analogous to Christian ones, thus predisposing the people towards the worldview introduced by the mission. 3. The account does not consider the pragmatic aspects of social life. In focusing on the people's spiritual attitude Hayward underplays the pragmatic aspects of the motivation people might have for conversion. 4. This emphasis on spiritual dissatisfaction further denies the people a capacity for action of their own and an understanding of what they might gain by conversion, including gains in the material sphere. Bringing these conclusions to bear on our consideration of the particular role that theocentrism has played in the ethnography here, we can further suggest that there is a difference between the missionary ethnographer and the non-missionary anthropologist. This difference arises from their contrasting roles in relation to change in their respective areas. The typical

Border Crossings: Papua New Guinea Models in Irian Jay a

323

missionary is an agent of change in the practical life of the people, whereas the typical anthropologist is not (at least at the institutional level), but rather is concerned to exert agency only in his/her control over the representation of the society which he/she gives in his/her ethnography itself (of course a practitioner of applied anthropology may also be an agent of change). If this distinction is correct, it implies that for the missionary the ethnography may also become a tool of cultural change. In Hayward's particular version of theocentrism, this is in fact directly the case through his portrayal of the people as being dissatisfied with their culture, so that Christianity is a solution for their problems. In concentrating on the representation of the society given by the author, we have been able also to uncover aspects of the author's role as an agent in his own missionary activities, and so to make the link between agency and representation complete. To demonstrate that this kind of missionary anthropology is not inevitable in the case of all missionaries, I would point to the altogether different kind of work of Larson on the Ilaga Dani (Larson 1987), Zollner on the Yale people (Zollner 1977), Strauss on the Melpa, in the Highlands of Papua New Guinea (Strauss 1962), and Leenhardt on New Caledonia (Leenhardt 1978). The only trace of a 'missionary approach' which is to be found in the work of the last three authors is their concern with mythology and religion as the foundation of social life. The theme of justification has disappeared here, except insofar as the concentration on myth and religion agrees with Christian ideas of these as the basis of cultural values. CONCLUSION This paper has examined in detail a small number of overlapping ethnographies on Irian Jaya, with the intention of pointing out various possibilities for re-analysis of these works, which all date from the period of European colonialism. The choice of ethnographies for discussion has been deliberate, since, in comparison with the numerous critical reconsiderations of ethnographies on Papua New Guinea, there has been very little systematic debate about work on Irian Jaya, partly because the province is largely closed to research workers other than missionaries today. My purpose has been to show that critical scrutiny is not an end in itself, but can enable us to identify shortcomings in crucial areas of analysis. While gender relations and group structure are by now well established analytical categories, theocentrism has hitherto been less clearly identified and discussed as a feature of particular ethnographies. A further aim of this paper has been to indicate ways in which a discussion of this may proceed. At the broadest level, theocentrism, like ethnocentrism, is a form of 'justificatory anthropology', in which theoretical and applied levels meet in a rhetorical nexus.

324

Gabriele Stiirzenhofecker

REFERENCES Barnes, J.A., 1962, 'African models in the New Guinea Highlands', Man 62:5-9. Barrau, 1, and H. Scheffler, 1966, Review of the first edition of Serpenti's Cultivators in the swamps in American Anthropologist. 1035-6. Bossen, L., 1988, 'Toward a theory of marriage: The economic anthropology of marriage transactions', Ethnology 27-2:127-145. Fabian, J., 1983, Time and the other; How anthropology constructs its object, New York: Columbia University Press. Feil, D.K., 1987, The evolution of Papua New Guinea Highland societies, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gewertz, D., and F.K. Errington, 1987, Cultural alternatives and a feminist anthropology, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Godelier, M., 1986, The making of Great-Men, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hayward, D., 1980, The Dani before and after conversion, Sentani: Regions Press. Koch, K.-F., 1967, Conflict and its management among the Yale people of West New Guinea, Unpublished Dissertation, University of Berkeley. —, 1968, 'Marriage in Jalemo', Oceania 39-2:85-109. —, 1974, War and Peace in Jalemo, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Langness, L.L., 1964, 'Some problems in the conceptualization of Highlands social structure', in: J.B. Watson (ed.), 'New Guinea; The Central Highlands', American Anthropologist 66(4)-4:162-82. Larson, G.F., 1987, The structure and demography of the cycle of warfare among the Ilaga Dani of Irian Jaya, Unpublished Ph.D. Thesis, University of Michigan. Lederman, R., 1986, What gifts engender. Social relations and politics in Mendi, Highland Papua New Guinea, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Leenhardt, M., 1978, Do Kamo, New York: Arno Press. LiPuma, E., 1988, The gift of kinship, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Meggitt, M., 1965, The lineage system of the Mae-Enga of New Guinea, Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd. Miedema, J., H. Marks, and R. Bonsen (eds), 1990, The ambiguity of rapprochement; Reflections of anthropologists on their controversial relationship with missionaries, Nijmegen: Focaal. O'Brien, D., and A. Ploeg, 1966, 'Acculturation movements among the Western Dani', American Anthropologist 66(4)-2:281-292. Oosterwal, G., 1961a, People of the Tor, Assen: Van Gorcum. —,1961b, Papoea 's, mensen zoals wij; De kultuur van een natuurvolk, Baarn: Het Wereldvenster. Ploeg, A., 1980, Review of Serpenti 1977 in Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 136-1. Richardson, D., 1977, Lords of the earth, Venura: Regal Books. Ryan, D.A., 1961, Gift exchange in the Mendi Valley, Ph.D. Thesis, Sydney University. Sahlins, M., 1965, 'On the ideology and composition of descent groups', Man 65:104-7. Scheffler, H., 1966, 'Ancestor worship in anthropology: Or, observations on descent and descent groups', Current Anthropology 7:541-8. Serpenti, L.M., 1977, Cultivators in the swamps, Assen: Van Gorcum. [Second edition; first edition 1965.] Sexton, L., 1986, Mothers of money, daughters of coffee, The Wok Men movement, Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press. [Studies in Cultural Anthropology.] Strathern, A.J., 1972, One father, one blood; Descent and group structure among the Melpa people, London: Tavistock. —, 1982, 'Two waves of African models in the New Guinea Highlands'; in: A. Strathern (ed.), Inequality in New Guinea Highlands societies, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Strathern, M. (ed.), 1987, Dealing with inequality, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Border Crossings: Papua New Guinea Models in Irian Jaya

325

—, 1989, The gender of the gift, Berkeley, Los Angeles: California University Press. Strauss, H., 1962, Die Mi-Kultur der Hagenberg-Stdmme im ostlichen Zentral Neuguinea, Hamburg: Cram de Gruyter. Trouwborst, A.A., 1990, 'Missionaries and ethnography', in H. Marks, J. Miedema, and R. Bonsen (eds), The ambiguity of rapprochement, Nijmegen: Focaal. Weiner, A., 1976, Women of value, men of renown, Austin: University of Texas Press. Zollner, S., 1977, Lebensbaum und Schweinekult, Theologischer Verlag Brockhaus.