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MICHAEL BRIAN SCHIFFERA .
NUMBKR HIVK 1N THH
Amerind Foundation New World Studies Series
Anne I. Woosley Series Editor
A N T H R O P O L O G I C A L P E R S P E C T I V E S O N T E C H N O L O G Y
Anthropological Perspectives on Technology
E D I T E D B Y
M i c h a e l B r i a n Sc h i f f e r
A n A m e r i n d F o u n d a t i o n P u b l i c a t i o n
D r a g o o n , A r i z o n a
U n i v e r s i t y o f N e w M é x i c o P r e s s
A l b u q u e r q u e
© 2001 by the Amerind Foundation
All rights reserved.First edition
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data:
Anthropological perspectives on technology / edited by Michael Brian Schiffer.— lst ed.
p. cm. — (Amerind Foundation New World studies series ; no. 5) “An Amerind Foundation publication.”
Includes bibliographical references and index.ISBN 0-8263-2369-3 (cloth : alk. paper)
1. Technology— Social aspects. 2. Anthropology. 3. Archaeology.4. Industries, Primitive. I. Schiffer, Michael Brian, 1947-. II. Series. GN406 .A72 2001 306.4'6— dc21
00-012735
Contents
List o f Figures IX
List of Tables IX
Foreword Anne I. Woosley XI
Proface M ichael Brian Schiffer XIII
Chapter 1: Toward an Anthropology of Technology
M ichael Brian Schiffer 1
Chapter 2: Beyond Art and Technology: The Anthropology of SkillTim ¡ngold 17
Chapter 3: Thought and Production: Insights of the Practitioner Charles M. Keller 33
Chapter 4: Meaning in the Making: Agency and the Social Embodimentof Technology and Art
M arcia-Anne Dobres 47
Chapter 5: Symbols Do Not C’reate Meanings— Activities Do:Or, Why Symbolic Anthropology Needs the Anthropology of Technology
Bryan Pfaffenberger 77
Chapter 6: Ritual Technology in an Extranatural World
William H. Walker 87
Chapter 7: Toward an Archaeology of Needs Richard R. Wilk 107
Chapter 8: The Design Proccss as a Critical Component of the
Anthropology of Technology W. D avid Kingery 123
vil
V II I / C O N TE N TS
Chapter 9: Understanding Artifact Variability and Change:A Behavioral Framework
J a m e s M . S k ib o a n d M k h a e l B r ia n S ch iffe r 139
Chapter 10: Artífice Constrained: What Determines Technological Choice?P eter B lc e d 151
Chapter 11: Building Bridges: Practice-based Ethnographies of Contemporary Technology
L u cy A . S u ch m a n 163
Chapter 12: Coordination of Technological Practice and Representationsat the Boundaries
M ered ith A ron son , D a v id Bell, a n d D an V erm eer 179
Chapter 13: From Sail to Steam at Sea in the Late Nineteenth Century
R ich a rd A . G o u ld 193
Chapter 14: The Explanation of Long-Term Technological Change M ic h a e l B r ia n Sch if fe r 21 5
Contributors 237
Index 238
C H A P T E R F I V E
Symbols Do Not Create Meanings— Activities Do: Or, Why Symbolic Anthropology Needs the Anthropology of Technology
Bryan PfafFenberger
T h ,S ESSAY EXAMINES THE OFT-ASSERTED PROPOSITION
that artifacts embody symbols because they com m uni- cate meanings that are conducive or even essential to the maintenance o f a society’s social and political relations. Rejecting this proposition on theoretical grounds, I argüe instead that the symbolism embodied in artifacts is rightly regarded, not as the cause o f shared cultural meaning, but rather as the consequence o f technological activities— which are, in turn, easily demonstrated to act as powerful progenitors o f shared cultural meaning. I make this case by reexam ining classic Melanesian ethnography (specifically, the yam storehouses o f
Malinowski’s Trobriand Islanders, and canoes o f the island o f Gawa, studied by Nancy M unn). This essay makes the case that the anthropological study o f technological activities is not only indispensable to symbolic anthropology, but even further, that symbolic anthropology is liable to grave interpretive errors if it fails to take technological activities into account. More broadly still, the essay am ounts to an indictm ent o f any interpretive anthropology that ignores social behavior.
In the Trobriand Islands o f Melanesia, anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski (1922, 1935) was struck by the
singular architecture o f yam storehouses, called bw aym a. Impressive structures indeed, bwayma are log cabins built on stilts with lofty roofs shaped in the form o f a
Gothic arch. D istinct from smaller, utilitarian storehouses, the show storehouses feature lofty, imposing
dimensions, an elegant shape, and conspicuous position (Malinowski 1935:1, 242). The result, Malinowski noted,
is that yams are better housed than human beings: they are “higher and more imposing than the living-house; more lavishly decorated, more scrupulously kept in repair; [and] surrounded with many more taboos and rules o f conduct” (1935:1, 218). Anticipating the symbolic anthropology o f a half century later, Malinowski offers an explanation for the bwayma’s striking style: By enabling the prom inent display o f a ch ief’s capacity to accumulate yams, bwayma serve as an “index and symbol o f power” (1935:1, 240).
That complex, highly visible symbols such as the bwayma com municate social inform ation seems self- evident, and it would be ridiculous to deny that artifact- embodied symbols play a role in shaping fields o f shared cultural meaning. Yet this essay argües that the meaning- shaping role played by artifact-em bodied symbols is much less significant than most archaeologists and anthropologists suspect. I argüe instead that cultural meanings are most likely to take shape when people engage in artifact-related activities, in which they interact with symbol-laden materials and artifacts in ways that are culturally constituted and circum scribed. In defining
77
7 8 / CHAPTER 5
the term “activities,” I find Schiffer’s defínition apposite:
An activity is defined as a patterned interaction between
an energy so u rc e .. .and other material e lem e n ts .. . . By
“patterned” interaction is m eant the strong tendency for
activity perform ance to be repeated in the sam e place (or
type o f place) with the same constituents in the same way
(Schiffer 1992:4).
I begin this argument on theoretical grounds, return- ing to an examination o f classic ethnography— includ- ing Malinowski’s bwayma— to continué my argument on evidentiary grounds. (f caution the reader, however, that I am here ransacking the secondary literature to make my point.) M ore broadly, I would like to demónstrate the enorm ous theoretical and interpretive cost o f anthropology’s penchant to ignore technology, which I define as those activities that involve the creation, appropriation, and use o f artifacts. I will show that the meanings expressed by a completed bwayma, complex as they are, are all but inconsequential in com parison to the meanings generated by the activities that produce bwaymas. This essay’s approach is conson- ant with an em erging theoretical stance in social anthropology and ethnoarchaeology that understands technological activities as a means o f creating meanings and social relationships as well as artifacts (Childs 1999; Riddington 1998), and kindred stances in cultural anthropology that discount essentialist interpretations o f artifact meanings (Appadurai 1986; Thom as 1991).
T h e S t r o n g P r o g r a m in
S y m b o l ic A n t h r o p o l o g y
Any visitor to Japan will soon be struck by the
om nipresent phenom enon o f “cuteness” (kawai) in Japanese artifacts. Should you buy a book, you’ll find a bookmark with a cute, cuddly cartoon figure— a kitty, a bunny, a child. Cuteness reigns in advertisements, greeting cards, stuffed animals, feature-length animated cartoons, and TV shows. Women strive for cuteness; a best-selling “how-to” book advocates cuteness as a guise within which a saw y woman can achieve her goals. Cuteness certainly occurs in other cultures, but in Japan it’s a complex, a fixation. Trying to unravel the cuteness puzzle, anthropologist Brian McVeigh (1996) insight- fully argües that the cuteness complex functions as a
“complex, paradoxical com m entary on sociopolitical relations” in Japanese society, reinforcing the mutual rights and obligations o f superiors and inferiors (particularly in gender relations). Interpersonally, cuteness provides a defense o f sorts against male exploitation; that which is “cute” is certainly inferior, but it also deserves to be cuddled and cared for. But M cVeigh, like many anthropologists, takes this argument much further, and suggests that the cuteness complex is one o f the cornerstones on which the entire edifice o f Japanese gender relations rests; constant exposure to “cute” symbols serves to lay down what McVeigh calis a “bedrock o f belief” (1996:308) without which such relations could not function so smoothly. Similarly, in a study o f pottery decoration, David et al. (1988:379) argüe that designs on pots provide a “low technology channel through which society implants its valúes in the individual— every day at mealtimes.” One could multiply citations here endlessly; in various guises, this thesis is one o f the m ost com m only advanced theoretical assumptions in anthropology.
I term this thesis the strong program in symbolic anthropology: namely, that people create symbols because social systems cannot function, or at least cannot function so smoothly, without the meanings that artifacts publicly disseminate. Variants o f this thesis include a social learning approach, such as McVeigh’s, in which the meanings expressed in artifacts are seen to be crucial to socialization. In archaeology, Wobst (1977) influenced decades o f subsequent theorizing by formulating the inform ation exchange theory o f artifact style. Wobst suggested that artifacts express visible style variations because such variations encode social information that
must be publicly and visibly expressed if social relations are to function smoothly. Wobst further predicted that, due to the high cost o f encoding inform ation in styles, “only simple invariate and recurrent messages will normally be transmitted stylistically” (W obst 1977:323). In addition, Wobst predicted that messages expressed by means o f style would need to be highly visible, since they are generally intended for those who do not know the message sender well.
W obst’s approach seems apposite in considering the Trobriand bwayma; the conspicuous buildings are conspicuously located and convey what appears to be a sim ple, straightforward message: they provide, Malinowski inferred, a ready Índex to a given chief’s political power and wealth. One might surmise that such
S Y M B O L S DO NOT CREA TE M E A N IN G S / 79
an index is convenient indeed, given that Trobriand society is marked by constant wrangling over minute variations in the prestige o f competing lineages. And one could easily make the leap to the proposition that Trobriand society could not possibly function so smoothly without such visible índices. But such an assertion is vulnerable on theoretical grounds; for one thing, it constitutes a post hoc ergo propter hoc fallacy (Hantman 1983). The mere fact o f a symbols’ existence does not conclusively dem ónstrate that it plays an indispensable functional role. To make a case for such a proposition, one must at the m ínim um advance some sort o f theory that specifies just why the com munication o f meanings is so vital to the maintenance o f social relations.
As for the bwayma, one could bring in a bit o f econom ics to make the case; one could argüe that the bwayma exists because it economically expresses a host o f meanings that could not otherwise be stated in such concise terms. And after all, people in many societies go to great lengths to appropriate and display artifacts that signal subtle gradations in prestige. But this is a matter o f the expression o f meaning, and it is quite another matter to argüe convincingly that Trobriand society could not function so smoothly if such gradations could not be so visibly expressed. After all, as Malinowski observed, a given ch ief’s prestige is a matter o f common knowledge within the local com m unity; it is more credible to assert that the bwayma takes on its form in order to send a message to outsiders— specifically, prospective kula partners. Yet there is no evidence that this is indeed the case.
Even if such evidence could be found, there are additional theoretical grounds for questioning the strong program’s central theoretical contention, namely, that Trobrianders build bwaymas because the message they embody is in some sense crucial to their com m u- nity’s smooth functioning. The first o f these grounds concerns the fact that artifact-borne meanings are notoriously susceptible to subversive reinterpretation (M iller 1987). In the Trobriands, a relatively large bwayma could very well attest to a ch ief’s power. But how small must a bwayma become before it sends the opposite message, namely, that the chief who caused this particular bwayma to be built is not in com mand o f a sufficiently large network o f supporters? Arguably, a society that relied on artifact-borne messages to convey crucial meanings would be rife with conflict and
confusion, rather than consensus.The second line o f argument for rejecting the strong
program focuses on the a priori assumptions that are necessarily made about the nature o f the messages deemed to be broadcast by an artifact. Malinowski simply assumes that the bwayma's message is an index, a relatively simple message that quickly sums up a social status. But he makes no inquiry to determine whether the bwayma’s message might be better described as a sym boí. As Victor Turner (1967) argued compellingly, symbols are characterized by ambiguity, múltiple shades o f meaning, and even provocative contradiction. To the extent that the bwayma’s message is symbolic, it seems most unlikely that any such symbol would develop because o f its capacity to disseminate an unambiguous meaning. On the contrary, an adequate theoretical account o f artifact-borne inform ation exchange should be able to explain precisely why such symbols are typically so riddled with contradiction and polysemy.
S y m b o l s A r e t h e C o n s e q u e n c e o f M e a n in g -
F o r m a t io n P r o c e s s e s (N o t t h e C a u s e )
Why, then, do people build symbolism into artifacts? In what follows, I argüe that artifact-borne symbols should be understood as a consequence o f the social processes that create shared meanings, rather than as a cause o f such m eanings. Consider the Japanese cuteness complex. Most consumers o f “cute” artifacts are girls and young women; they purchase and display these artifacts, and they imítate them in dress and demeanor. In other words, they engage in activities o f artifact appropriation that create a very considerable demand for such artifacts. It seems reasonable to suggest that the cuteness complex exists not because it sends a vital message to Japanese girls, but rather that Japanese girls very frequently engage in some sort o f social process that requires a very large number o f cute artifacts— artifacts that em body a contradictory, am biguous message about cuteness and inferiority.
Thanks to the work o f Daniel Miller (1987), there are powerful theoretical grounds for making precisely this contention. Drawing on an impressive body philosophi- cal and psychological theory concerning m aterial objects and the formation o f personal identity, Miller argües convincingly that, in all human societies, we com e to know ourselves by appropriating and
BIBLIOTECA 'Ju ttLno íx n a n d tx
80 / C H A P T E R 5
manipulating things. In childhood, Miller notes, artifact manipulation is a prominent part o f object formation processes, in which individuation and self-awareness develop. This process does not stop with maturity, Miller argües; as adults, we continué to appropriate artifacts to understand the circumstances o f our lives. In the context o f Japanese gender relations, arguably, “cute” artifacts provide a touchstone for the form ation o f feminine identities; Japanese girls appropriate “cute” artifacts in an effort to understand and adapt to a world in which their lives will be sharply circumscribed by male prerogatives. To put this point another way, the ubiquity o f “cute” artifacts in Japan attests to the ubiquity o f the user appropriation activities involving these artifacts. To be sure, the omnipresence o f “cute” artifacts in Japanese society doubtless serves to circum scribe the range o f available accommodative behaviors, and to disseminate meanings about gender relations, but one can also argüe forcefully that the artifacts themselves cannot be fully understood if you have not been through what a Japanese girl goes through.
Let me make my assertion clear by stating it as baldly as possible: On theoretical grounds, I am contending that the symbolism encoded in so many human artifacts is largely an epiphenomenotr, such symbolism is properly regarded as the result o f technological activities that generate shared cultural meaning, rather than the cause o f such meanings. And it follows that no anthropological account o f cultural symbolism can claim anything approaching explanatory adequacy without a sustained attempt to place symbolism in the context o f such activities, including the entire gamut o f activities spanning an artifacts life cycle (creation, distribution, appropriation, use, maintenance, and destruction). No anthropology o f sym bolism can exist w ithout an anthropology o f technology— and, as I shall argüe subsequently, a symbolic anthropology that pays no attention to technological activities is liable to advance interpretations that are gravely erroneous.
The Darkened Canoe: Trobriand Yam Houses
Returning to the yam show-storehouses o f the Trobriands, I should like to make an argument that parallels my contention concerning the cuteness complex in Japan. Bwaymas do not exist because they convey indispensable meanings; on the contrary, they exist because the activities related to bwaymas are indispen
sable to the construction o f Trobriand culture. And by retracing Malinowski’s work, one can see that this is in fact precisely the case.
Given his hostility to the anthropology o f technology (Pfaffenberger 1992), Malinowski would seem the least likely to have left such evidence behind. Malinowski led the campaign to dissociate social anthropology from the nonscientific enthusiasms o f collectors and evolutionary theorists, who built their wild-guess theories by remov- ing artifacts from their social context. Subsequent anthropologists took Malinowski’s aversión to mean that the study o f technology is verboten in principie, but Malinowski did not take such an extreme view: “Person- ally I am interested in technology only in so far as it reveáis the traditional ways and m eans by which knowledge and industry solve certain problems present- ed by a given culture” (1935:1, 240). The specific Trobriand problems to which Malinowski refers are those o f a redistributive econom y and “big m an” political system, in which prestige and political power accrue to those who are able to accumulate impressive numbers o f yams. And so, in his least-read work (Coral Gardens and their Magic, 1935), Malinowski endeavored to provide a meticulous account o f the activities that culminate in a bwayma.
Malinowski found that a bwayma is much more than a building. Properly understood, the bwayma should be
understood as a sort o f recipe or blueprint, not merely for creating a structure, but far more importantly to create and synchronize the very social relationships that are crucial to the ch ie f’s bid for prestige. Under construction (along with the building itself) are the social and political relationships on which the chief must rely if he is to make a bid for higher rank; he must transform his kinship relationships into a well-oiled, extensive machine, one that is capable o f producing astonishing numbers o f yams. As Malinowski painstak- ingly docum ents, the bwayma provides a sort o f blueprint— a “pre-energized social tem plate,” in Malinowski’s words— that enables a chief to cali forth his kin, and draw them into a step-by-step sequence o f fabricative and ritual activities, which run “parallel” to each other in a “strictly-determined” order (1935:1, 470). The chief needs a well-oiled machine; building the bwayma provides an opportunity to “trigger” this machine, as well as to test its condition, strength, and extent (Tambiah 1990:73). To a capture this notion, Malinowski spoke o f the bwayma activity as a “pre-
S Y M B O L S DO NOT C REA T E M E A N IN G S / 8 l
energized social template” that could be set into motion by a chief making a bid for high rank.
Thus far, Malinowski’s analysis o f the bwayma affírms this essay’s central contention, namely, that it is not the visible symbolism o f the resulting artifact, but rather the technological activities in which the artifact is imbri- cated, that serve to reinforce and sustain social relations. Going further, I would like to show that understanding these activities also holds the key to grasping the artifact s symbolism and pavés the way for understanding the role played by artifacts in the construction o f shared cultural m eanings. Here, as will be seen, Malinowski makes an interpretive blunder, but never- theless provides sufficient inform ation to point to way toward a more credible interpretation.
Turning to an analysis o f the ritual activities that run parallel to bwayma construction in a strict sequence, Malinowski discovered that the bwayma itself embodies com plex ideological sym bolism : the structure symbolizes a canoe that has been dragged from the sea and anchored to the land. Malinowski discovered this symbolism by exploring the meanings related to the constituent parts o f the structure. For example, the transversal logs that provide the bwayma’s foundation are called kaylag im , recalling the transversal boards {lagim ) that endose the well o f the canoe at both ends. The anchored-canoe metaphor is affirmed and repeated almost endlessly in the various magical rituals that accompany bwayma construction. The rite that precedes the filling o f the bwayma, called vilam alia , a ritual o f plenty and prosperity, echoes the them e o f transformation. The vilamalia serves to “anchor the canoe”: enumerating every com ponent o f the bwayma, the m agician recites, “It shall be anchored,” like immovable stone, like bedrock.”
Malinowski’s evidence affirms that the entire process o f bwayma construction drives home the theme o f transformation; a canoe is anchored, and in so doing it undergoes a parallel transformation from light to dark, concepts that are loaded with meaning in Trobriand culture. Indeed, the resulting artifact itself can be seen as a sort o f preindustrial m ultim edia device that is designed to drive home the contrast between light and dark. Prior to loading the yams, the structure is open, light, and airy; once the yams have been stored, it is dosed, dark, and full. Running in parallel with rituals such as the vilamalia that stress the transformation from light and open to dark, heavy, and closed, the act o f
stuffing the bwayma with yams echoes and affirms the meanings that satúrate the entire bwayma activity: the bwayma is a formerly light canoe that has been dragged on to land, made heavy and full, made dark, affixed to the earth. The structure indeed seems optimized to emphasize this transformation.
What does this mean? W hat does it matter that a canoe is anchored to the earth, and in so doing, becomes full, dark, and heavy? As an informant named Bagido’u explained to an uncomprehending Malinowski:
Suppose the vilamalia were not made. M en and women
would want to eat all the tim e, m orning, noon and
evening. Their bellies would grow big, they would swell—
all the tim e they would want m ore and m ore food. I
make the magic, the belly is satisfied, it is rounded up. A
man takes half a tytu and leaves the other half. A woman
cooks the food; she calis her husband and her children—
they do not com e. They want to eat pig, they want to eat
food from the bush, and the fruits o f trees. Kaulo (yam -
food) they do not want. The food in the bwayma rots . . .
’til the next harvest. N othing is eaten (M alinknowski
19 3 5 :1 ,2 2 7 ).
Another villager, echoing Bagido’u’s statement:
W hen we do not make the magic o f prosperity, the belly
is like a very big hole— it constantly demands food. After
we [perform the rites] the belly is already satisfied
(M alinowski 1935 :1 ,227).
In short, Malinowski’s informants repeatedly stressed that the experience o f building the bwayma and participating in its various constituent rituals, such as the vilamalia, brought about a crucial transformation in the men and women who participated. They began as greedy, hungry people who would not hesitate to eat yams until their entire culture fell apart. But by the time the bwayma is built, they lose their hunger for yams. They become the kind o f people Trobrianders must be if they are to achieve the goals that, as a community, they set for themselves.
But here, Malinowski’s interpretive powers meet their match. Ridiculing his inform ants’ interpretation o f the vilamalia, Malinowski points to the many substances used in the ritual that would seem to symbolize fertility, and he goes on to develop his naive psychological theory, which is easily refuted (Tambiah 1990), that the
8 2 / C H A P T E R 5
use o f magic stems from the anxiety o f a primitive people faced with uncertain weather and the potential failure o f crop failure. It is striking that Malinowski failed to connect the outcom e o f the bwayma with the central problem faced by any redistributive culture, namely, how to appeal to individuáis to constrain their consumption in favor o f accumulating a surplus.
To grasp the power o f bwayma-construction processes in the production o f shared meaning, it is instructive to return to M illers compelling thesis concerning the role artifacts play in the form ation o f identity. Just as Japanese girls find out what sort o f people they can be by appropriating“cute” artifacts, Trobrianders do the same by constructing a bwayma. And what o f the symbolism in the resulting artifact? I do not mean to suggest that this symbolism is irrelevant— at the m inim um , it serves as a constant reminder to every Trobriander that the
survival o f their com m unity depends on their becoming yam-refusers. But it is the processes that create the bwayma, rather than these mere reminders, that generate the field o f shared meanings that strike outsiders as the distinctive culture o f the Trobriand Islands.
And what o f Malinowski’s earlier suggestion that the bwayma serves as a ready index o f a ch ief’s power? His subsequent account o f the bwayma provides no evi- dence in support o f this proposition, and in fact I believe it to be deeply m isconstrued; Trobrianders would doubtless have jeered at it, and rightly so. A bwayma
stands as a testament, a m onum ent, to a com m unity’s dedication to transform themselves in ways that they find vital to their com m unity’s survival. This point illustrates the interpretive blunders that can be made so easily by ignoring technological activities; to outsiders, it seems perfectly reasonable to suppose that the bwayma might have played a communicative role in providing an index to a ch ief’s power, but this account o f the artifact’s symbolism— and the role it plays in Trobriand society— misses the mark. Subsequent anthropological research in the Trobriands reveáis that the bwayma’s symbolism is com plex indeed; for Trobrianders, and chiefs are fathers to their people. The activities o f building the bwayma— “ham m ering, structuring, strengthening, growth” are one foundation o f the chief's “anti-hunger magic,” which emanates from his mystical forcé; by undertaking such activities, the chief strengthens his people and his com munity by giving them a firm, sturdy form , like that o f a yam; indeed, yams are people (Mosko
1995). To construct the bwayma is to construct an entire com m unity as well as the persons who live within it; otherwise, the com m unity would be amorphous and unable to act collectively (W iener 1988). In short, what produces meaning in the Trobriands are not the material results o f chiefly activities (such as the bwayma), but rather the activities that bind the chief and his people in a binding, structured, and reciprocal relationship that is marked by the cessation o f hunger.
The Lightened Log: Gawan Canoes
As argued in the previous section, Malinowski carne cióse to formulating a remarkably contem porary theory o f technological activity in relation to the construction o f social relations, but missed an opportunity to grasp the profound role that technological activity can play in the generation o f shared meaning. But a subsequent anthropological study o f another Melanesian island, called Gawa (M unn 1974, 1986), was to push Malinowski’s interpretation to its logical conclusión.
W hat is striking about M unn’s study, and what makes it particularly interesting to discuss in this context, is that the activity Munn studied is a symbolic reversal o f the Trobriand “anchored canoe,” which was transformed into a dark, heavy object. In Gawa, islanders transform a dark, heavy object— a log— into a light, gaily decorated canoe, which constitutes the chief econom ic contribu- tion that Gawans make to the kula exchange. Munn’s ethnography helps to ¡Ilumínate the meanings that are only crudely described in Malinowski’s work; the many islands o f Melanesia can be viewed as an extensive cultural area in which islanders work out broadly shared
cultural themes in distinctive ways (Dam on 1989).Gawa, an island o f some 400 souls at the time o f
anthropologist Nancy M unn’s study, is famed for hundreds o f miles in all directions for the beautiful, seagoing canoes the islanders make. Gawans fabrícate canoes by hollowing out logs, a laborious process that can take up to seven months to complete. In creating the bwayma, Trobriand Islanders metaphorically bring a light canoe to the island, make it heavy, and anchor it to the earth. In creating a canoe, Gawans take a heavy, dark log fr om the island, lighten it, and send it to sea. At every step o f the canoe’s fabrication, the various rites (not to mention the technical acts o f construction) are intended to transform the canoe from a dark, heavy log into something light and airy, a vessel that can (as Gawans put it) “fly” across the surface o f the water. To acquire
S Y M B O L S DO NOT CREA TE M E A N IN G S / 83
the requisite propulsión, Gawans hollow out the log, and also use magic, which Munn engagingly describes as a kind o f “kinesis” that is “given by humans to wood.”
What is striking about M unn’s account o f Gawan canoe-m aking (1974) is that, like bwayma-making, this activity’s social organization is well described by Malinowski’s term “pre-energized social template,” one that people can use when they decide to make a bid for higher rank. The man who takes on the seemingly self- sacrificial task o f fabricating the canoe begins by calling forth the labor o f his matrilineal clan mates. Along with their spouses, they form the construction team (the men build the canoe, while the women cook for the workers). But this labor, Munn notes sardonically, must be “com pensated” (M unn’s quotation marks). Munn observes that nowhere else in Gawan social life would men compénsate women for cooking services; the expectation o f compensation here struck Munn as a contrivance o f sorts, a fiction adopted to serve the broader end o f launching a series o f prestations that culminates in the canoe’s departure from the island. Pigs and taro pudding flow one way, and the canoe the other, until finally, and irrevocably, it is “propelled” off the island by the odd, and seemingly contrived, reversal o f customary exchange relations. As Munn elegantly puts it, these exchanges are “transposed” on the “unifying
directionality o f the canoe’s irreversible path.” In this way, Gawa Islanders construct a “new,” synthetic framework o f social relations, which cuts across the grain o f the usual segmentary exchange patterns, while at the same time they construct the econom ic trajectory that will eventually “launch” the canoe off the island. The network o f transformed gift-giving culminates in the gift o f the canoe to a kula partner on another island, “fixing” the island’s location in the inter-island system o f prestations and counterprestations that constitutes the kula ring.
Like the bwayma, the canoe is loaded with symbolism, and one can build a fairly credible case that this symbolism is in some sense crucial to creating and sustaining kula relations. The canoe itself is, symbolic- ally, an idealized person. Parts o f the canoe are playfully likened to parts o f the human body; it has eyes, ears, shoulders, a chest, hair. And this is a beautiful, bright person, whose brightly-painted exterior “shines like lightning.” In this guise the canoe, Munn recounts, is like the mythical young man o f magical powers who, emerging from the sea, shines forth as if he were reflecting a flash o f lightning and, in so doing, captures
the heart o f any woman who chances to behold him in his apotheosis. The canoe’s gaily flowing pandanus streamers, moreover, “cali” to the kula partner, “turning
his m ind” so that it is pardal to yield up his armshells and engage in exchange with Gawa; thus Gawa’s fame “clim bs” like blowing pandanus streamers.
W hat is striking about M unn’s account o f Gawan canoe-m aking is her recognition that the symbolism encoded in the canoe’s final form pales in significance to the meanings generated through partic ipation in the canoe-m aking activity. The canoe’s symbolism may serve to entice the prospective kula partner, but it serves a role that Gawans believe to be much deeper in significance— namely, transforming the people who make the canoe into the type o f people who must exist if the Gawan com m unity is to achieve its goals. Like Trobrianders, Gawans must become people who will not eat yams.
At stake in this transform ation, Gawans explain, is the fame o f Gawa. In the Gawan scheme o f things, excessive eating makes the body heavy and slow and dull; stuffing
oneself lies at the opposite extreme from the positive valúes o f youthfulness, buoyant lightness, and feelings o f joy (M unn 1986:76). In overeating, one takes on the
heaviness o f the soil, a quality that is positive in gardens but not in people. One becomes indolent; one’s garden dies; one cannot give to others. Restricting one’s consumption is the necessary condition for the creation o f a surplus, and ultimately o f Gawa’s fame, as one Gawan put it (when someone eats a lot o f food):
. . . it makes his stom ach swell; he does nothing but eat
and lie down; but when we give food to som eone else,
when an overseas visitor eats pig, vegetable food, chews
betel, then he will take away its noise, its fame. I f we
ourselves eat, there is no noise, no fame, it will disappear,
[becom e] rubbish, it will default. If we give to visitors,
they praise us, it’s fine. If not there is no fame; Gawa
would have no kula shells, no m en o f high standing, no
kula fame (M unn 1986:49).
Why does canoe-building help to create and sustain meanings so powerful that one no longer feels an appe- tite for yams? Here, Munn anticipates the anthropology o f experience (Stoller 1989); she emphasizes the m eaning-form ation potency o f a social process that brings canoe-builders face-to-face with a range o f alternative modalities o f personhood, ranging from the dark, heavy, indolent yam-eater (symbolized by the log)
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to the light, buoyant, and joyful person who refuses to eat yams (symbolized by the completed canoe). The transform ation o f material is paralleled by a transform - ation o f self, for constructing the canoe engages Gawans in a type o f social theater, one that reveáis to Gawans the type o f moral conflict in which they are involved (Munn 1986:272). To make a canoe is to transform one kind o f person into another, and to engage in this activity is to experience this transform ation kinaesthetically: you caress the heavy dark person at the beginning, and the buoyant, light person at the end— and in so doing, you are yourself transformed, in a context that dramatizes all that hangs in the balance. And in making the canoe, Gawans construct the social relations that are indispensable to their gaining entry to the valued kula exchanges, without which there would be no fame. The canoe that
stems from this process embodies these meanings, but its m eaning-form ation role would seem to be inconse- quential for Gawans themselves; it merely “calis” to the prospective kula partner, and soon departs from the scene.
CON CLUSIO N
In this essay, I have argued that the symbolism encoded in artifacts is epiphenomenal; that is, such symbolism is
a consequence o f activities that produce shared meanings, rather than a cause o f such meanings.
As this essay demonstrates, it is both fallacious to argüe, and empirically very difficult to demónstrate, that artifacts embody symbolism because the dissemination o f symbolically expressed meanings is in some sense vital to the maintenance o f social relations. In consequence, there are strong theoretical grounds, and it is compara- tively easy to dem ónstrate, that artifacts embody symbolism as a consequence o f the role artifacts play in technological activities, including manufacture and user appropriation.
Japan is not riddled with cute artifacts because their sheer number tips the balance in girls’ acquiescence to stratified gender relations; there are huge numbers o f cute artifacts because correspondingly huge numbers o f
Japanese girls undergo an accommodative process in which the appropriation o f cute artifacts plays a helpful role. The shores o f Trobriand Island villages do not have large yam storehouses because these structures broadcast some sort o f indispensable cultural meaning;
the storehouses exist because building them enables chiefs to construct and test the econom ic and political relations required to make a bid for higher status, and because his followers view the storehouse-building activities as the primary means by which the com munity can ensure that its members are the right kind o f people. Gawan canoes do not symbolize a light, buoyant person because the com m unication o f this meaning is vital to Gawan society; they embody this meaning as the result o f an activity in which the material transformation from log to canoe is paralleled by a kindred transformation in the canoe-builders’ soul and spirit, and because the activity constructs the exchange relations required to propel the canoe o ff the island. In short, symbols do not create meanings; activities do.
This essay demonstrates the enorm ous cost o f Anglo- American anthropologists’ penchant to ignore technological activities, as if they constituted something wholly instrum ental, banal, and outside the purview o f anthropological interest. Such an attitude represents an almost unbelievable interpretive blunder, in that it posits the universality o f Anglo-American cultures mapping (and rigid social separation) o f technical and symbolic space, which cultures can and do map in different ways (Childs 1999:38-39). As Tim Ingold has argued (1993), the Anglo-American cultural mapping of technological and sym bolic spaces is a form o f alienation in the classic Marxist sense, a consequence o f an industrial revolution that separated artifacts from the activities that produce them; it is hardly surprising that Anglo-American anthropologists would so often express the tenets o f the strong program in symbolic anthropology, in which artifacts— divorced from the activities in which they are created, used, maintained, appropriated, stolen, sabotaged, and destroyed— are viewed through an essentialist lens in which they possess immutable meanings. In rejecting a consideration o f technological activities, some Anglo-American anthropologists imagine that they are refraining from imposing external valúes on non-Western cultures; in reality, they are imposing their own fetishized conception o f technology on social settings in which it is indefensibie to make a priori assumptions about the mapping o f technological and symbolic space. The result is a deeply misleading impression o f human beings suspended in meanings that they themselves have constructed (to paraphrase Geertz). By bringing technological activities back into the picture, one sees human beings actively using
SY M B O LS DO NOT C REA T E M E A N IN G S / 85
activities to create the type o f people, as well as the modalities o f social relationship, that they deem vital to their com m unity’s survival.
Ac k n o w l e d g m e n t s
This essay was written with the assistance o f a fellowship from the Swedish Collegium for Advanced Study in the Social Sciences, in Uppsala, Sweden. I should like to thank U lf Hannerz, then the Center’s codirector, for suggesting that I reexamine classic ethnography in light
o f the fmdings o f Science and technology studies (STS). I previously examined the Trobriand and Gawa cases in, Worlds in the M aking: Technological Activities an d the Construction o f Intersubjective M eaning (Dobres and Hoffman 1999).
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