Religion, Personality and Behavior in Burma Author(s): Melford E.

Spiro Reviewed work(s): Source: American Anthropologist, New Series, Vol. 70, No. 2 (Apr., 1968), pp. 359-363 Published by: Blackwell Publishing on behalf of the American Anthropological Association Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/671132 . Accessed: 06/03/2012 04:57
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Letters to the Editor

be offered a perpetual attitude of obeisance. This religious doctrine fits the emotional needs sketched above neatly and completely. This, my hypothesis suggests, is why the doctrine seems so "right" to the individual that he "automatically" believes it and thereafter justifies his actions in terms of it. For this reason, Buddhist beliefs are avidly accepted by generation after generation. To put the matter elliptically, culture is transmitted from parents to children through personality. Of course the reinforcement between beliefs and motivations is mutual, but in any simple statement of causation it is far more nearly true that the Buddhist beliefs are a result of unconscious motivations than that they are the cause. What are the virtues of this alternative hypothesis? First, it explains both culture and personality whereas both Nash and Spiro must leave culture hanging in mid-air, unexplained except by the thesis that children believe deeply whatever their parents believe deeply. But this behavior pattern has too many exceptions to be accepted as the general rule without exploring the personality mechanisms that cause it sometimes to occur and sometimes not. The exceptions include the quick adoption of Buddhism by the Burmese and of Islam by the Pakistani and Indonesians. Secondly, this alternative hypothesis is consistent with all of the facts cited by Spiro. Thirdly, it explains by a single thesis a wide range of phenomena. Fourthly, it seems to be consistent with such knowledge as we have concerning the facts of childhood environment, both in Burma and in traditional societies more generally. The hypothesis seems also to be consistent with current knowledge of the processes of personality formation (see Hagen 1952: Chs. 4-8). The wider range of phenomena to which this alternative thesis is relevant includes the origins of Burmese Buddhist beliefs. When the Burmese, having pressed into Burma from central Asia, came into contact with Theravada Buddhism, they accepted it with a speed and unanimity that suggest that they found some especial satisfaction in it. Later, when Islam swept eastward across southern and southeastern southern Asia, it readily captured peoples to the west and east of Burma; but to the Burmese (and certain other southeastern Asian peoples) it bad no attraction. Still later, when Christian missionaries worked in Burma during the days of British rule, the peoples they converted were the non-Burmese peoples of Burma. The converts to Christianity among persons wholly of Burmese blood can be counted almost on the fingers of one hand. The attractiveness of Buddhism to the Burmese and their imperviousness to the preachings of other religions are plausibly explained by a thesis that unconscious needs in Burmese personality constitute a magnet that clamps Buddhism firmly into the mind. Otherwise, this set of events seems just one more mysterious accident of history.

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The discussion above of course implies a general hypothesis about the transmission of emotionally important elements of culture from generation to generation, namely that this transmission is always "through personality." I suggest that the potential intellectual usefulness of this general hypothesis is so great that it deserves increased exploration. EVERETT HAGEN E. Massachusetts Institute of Technology REFERENCES CITED GEOFFREY GORER, 1943 Burmese personality. New York, Institute of Inter-Cultural Studies. Mimeo. HAGEN, E. E. 1962 On the theory of social change: how economic growth begins. Homewood, Ill., Dorsey Press. HITSON,HAZEL 1959 Family pattern and paranoidal personality structure in Boston and Burma. Radcliffe College. Unpublished doctoral dissertation. NASH, MANNING 1963 Burmese Buddhism in everyday life. American Anthropologist 65:285-295. 1965 The golden road to modernity. New York, John Wiley & Sons. SEINTu 1955 Ideology and personality in Burmese society. Harvard University. Unpublished seminar paper. MELFORD E. SFIRO, 1966 Buddhism and economic action in Burma. American Anthropologist 68:1163-1173. AND BEHAVIOR RELIGION,PERSONALITY IN BURMA Sir: Since I agree with almost all of Professor Hagen's theoretical points-of course belief is motivated; of course motives are both conscious and unconscious; of course functions are both manifest and latent; of course culture is transmitted by means of personality-I shall confine my discussion to his application of these theoretical points to the substantive issue, for it is in their application that our disagreements lay. The substantive issue concerns the putative improvidence of the Burmese. In my paper I argued (Spiro 1966) that their lavish spending on religion, which is frequently pointed to as the mark of their improvidence, is more properly interpreted as a sign of providence. Religious spending is the means, par excellence, for the acquisition of merit, and it is by adding to their store of merit that the Burmese hope to satisfy their desire for (among other things) economic abundance and, perhaps, wealth and luxury. This satisfaction is usually (but not always) anticipated only in a future, not their present, rebirth. In economic terms, then, religious spending, I argued, is best interpreted as a form of investment that, given its magnitude, requires a great deal of

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saving from current income. To save from current income and, hence, to defer present pleasure in order to provide for a better future-this, surely, is what is meant by "providence." Hagen objects to this argument on two counts. First, although the ostensible motive for Burmese religious spending is the acquisition of merit, Hagen is doubtful that this is its real motive. Second, even if this were its motive, since the Burmese "do little or no saving against contingencies in their own lives or to benefit the lives of their children" their religious spending is both improvident and "rather selfish." On the basis of these objections, Hagen concludes that my "analysis may be said to be an explanation of why the Burmese are improvident" rather than a demonstration that they are not; and, since improvidence is a generic characteristic of peasant societies, it is an ad hoc explanation and (like all ad hoc explanations) violates the "scientific principle of parsimony." Before evaluating this conclusion, I shall, beginning with the second, examine his objections. Implicit in this objection is the first, or cultural, issue that divides us, viz., to what extent must our judgments of behavior take into account culturally variable conceptions of reality? Specifically, by whose conception of "life," ours or the Burmese, does it follow that the Burmese do little saving "against contingencies in their own lives?" For a Burmese Buddhist, "life" is not limited to the brief interval between his present birth and death. This interval, which Hagen and I believe to be the total duration of our lives, is but a brief segment of his: it is merely his present existence. His total life includes thousands of past rebirths, and it will endure through many more thousands of future rebirths. Now, although Hagen may not take the notion of rebirth seriously, the Burmese take it very seriously indeed;1 for, in proceeding from rebirth to rebirth, one can experience dramatic changes in one's life, changes not only in socioeconomic status-from poverty to wealth or from wealth to poverty--but also in ontological status-one can be reborn on earth or in hell, as a man or as a demon, as an animal or as a god, and so on. Is it any wonder, then, that the Burmese are very much concerned about their future rebirth(s)? and about maximizing their chances of a good, and minimizing their chances of a bad, rebirth? If, then, the Burmese are concerned with the "contingencies in their own lives," they can choose either to save (and perhaps invest) against the contingencies of the immediate future (their present existence) or to invest against the contingencies of a more distant future (their next existence[s]). By spending on religion-assuming for the moment that the motive for religious spending is the acquisition of merit-they make the latter choice, which, given their conception of both the duration and the vicissitudes of "life," is-so I argued-the more providential, for at least three reasons.

First, since the duration of one's present existence is but a moment, compared to the duration of one's future existence(s), the returns from religious spending are much more durable than those from secular saving. From secular savings one may enjoy a few years of pleasure; from religious spending one can enjoy thousands of years of pleasure. Second, religious spending is much more profitable than secular saving (or even investment), not because-as Hagen interprets my argument-secular investment in Burma yields lower returns than secular investment elsewhere, but because the returns from secular investment anywhere are insignificant compared to the returns from religious investment. Observe: Whereas secular saving porvides protection from such miseries as hunger and poverty, religious spending can provide protection from the much more dreaded miseries of rebirth as an animal, a demon, or a denizen of hell. And whereas religious spending can lead to a future existence of great wealth and luxury as a human being, not to mention the incomparably greater pleasures of heavenly bliss, secular investmenteven if all the religious spending of the Burmese were to be diverted to secular investment--can only lead to a slightly improved standard of living. Finally, religious spending offers much greater security than secular saving. Since the karmic law is immutable, the returns on religious spending are absolutely assured. Secular saving, on the other hand, is very risky, both because of the political and social unrest endemic throughout Burmese history, and because of the ubiquitous threat of governmental confiscation. Since, on the latter issue, Hagen's reading of Burmese history is different from mine, I can do little more, in support of this point, than cite my sources.2 Hagen's argument that these risks were (and are) no greater in Burma than in other peasant societies, even if true, begs an important question: since, according to him, improvidence is a generic characteristic of peasant societies, perhaps the same, or similar, conditions comprise part of the explanation for the putative "improvidence" of other peasants as well. If it then be argued, as Hagen argues, that in their concern with the distant future, the Burmese are improvident concerning the immediate future, I can only say that the privations they suffer as a consequence of this improvidence are slight, both relatively and absolutely. Relatively, almost any privation caused by religious spending is as nothing compared to its future returns: what are a few years of poverty--even stark poverty--compared to thousands of years of bliss? But this is academic because absolutely--to get down to the hard and measurable facts of Burmese economic life-few if any Burmese suffer serious privation. One might think, from Hagen's argument, that, in the face of India-like starvation, the improvident Burmese, disregarding the hazards of their present existence, lavish their time and their hard-earned income on

Letters to the Editor

economically useless religious ceremony. After all, the Burmese do sow and plant, and they irrigate and harvest. Many of them even keep some cash in the family strongbox, and, if the opportunity presents itself, some of them even extend their landholdings through purchase. To be sure, most of them also spend (as Hagen and I see it) an inordinately large percentage of their income on religion. Despite their religious spending, however, few if any Burmans-as Professor Hagen is well aware-suffer from absence of shelter, want of food, or lack of clothing (which is the main reason, of course, that Hagen saw no Burmese beggars). A favorable population-land ratio, a bountiful nature, and a system of mutual assistance (especially within kin bonds) all but preclude such an occurrence, either for the Burmese or for their children. (This historical generalization must, unhappily, be qualified by the disastrous economic consequences of the policies of the present military regime.) So far as their children are concerned, it is, moreover, an exaggeration to say that "benefiting their children's present or future lives receives very little emphasis in their avowed motives for religious giving." Parents not only sponsor ceremonies from which their children acquire merit for themselves, but they also transfer the merit acquired from their own ceremonies to their children (as well as to others). The most notable example of the first type is the son's shimbyu, the ceremony of donning the yellow robe. For the typical peasant this is by far his heaviest religious investment-heavier than all others put together-and one requiring years of planning and saving. To be sure, the parents' motivation is not entirely "unselfish," for sponsoring a shimbyu is his own (as well as his son's) most important means for acquiring merit. Nevertheless, the merit acquired by the son is as great as that acquired by the parents, and, moreover, it is an indispensable condition for his eventual attainment of nirvana. The most notable example of the second type are the ceremonies performed immediately following the death of a child (and other relatives), in which all of the merit is transferred to the dead child in order to enhance his chances of a better rebirth.3 To summarize, then, Burmese religious spending, so I argued, is a sign of providence because, given the Burmese world view, the acquisition of merit is their most efficacious means for achieving a better future. Hagen's second objection to this argument is that it is doubtful, despite their claims, that the acquisition of merit is the true goal of Burmese religious spending. Implicit in this objection is the second, or psychological, issue that divides us, namely, to what extent do religious beliefs have motivational relevance? Contrary to Hagen's interpretation of my position, I did not contend that Buddhist beliefs "cause" Burmese behavior or that there is "a chain of causation running from culture to motivations." Indeed, I am at a loss as to how Hagen could have possibly interpreted my argument

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in this manner since the whole point of my articlestated explicitly at the very beginning (Spiro 1966:1164) and repeated at the end (1966:1169)was that behavior is instigated by needs, not by cognitions; and religious beliefs are cognitive variables, Burmese religious spending is instigated, not by their belief in rebirth or karma, but by their desire for wealth, luxury, and other forms of material pleasure. This is not to say, however, that cognitions-and, specifically, religious beliefs-are behaviorally irrelevant. On the contrary! Since almost any need can be satisfied by a variety of responses, action almost always represents a choice of one from among the range of responses that comprise the actor's response repertory; and this choice is determined not by his needs, but by his cognitions, for it is his cognitions that provide him with the information upon which he must make his choices. Thus, given their (nonBuddhist) desire for material pleasure, the Burmese choice of religious spending as the means for its satisfaction is based (as I have tried to show above) on the calculation, derived from Buddhist teachings concerning rebirth and karma, that religious spending is a more efficacious means for satisfying their desire than secular saving. But religious spending does not operate as a deus ex machina. It is one's store of merit that determines one's future rewards, religious spending being merely a means for the acquisition of merit. This being so, it is little wonder that merit, for the Burmese, functions not merely as a belief variable, but also as a motivational variable. Its motivational salience, however, derives not from its cognitive, but from its cathective property: it is cathected because its acquisition serves to satisfy their most intense desire-the desire for material pleasure. If, then, every motive may be said to have two dimensions-a drive dimension and a goal dimension -we may say that the expectation of satisfying their material desires (the drive dimension) by increasing their store of merit (the goal dimension) is the motivational basis for Burmese religious spending. Now, since, as Hagen cautions us, a great deal of human behavior is determined by unconscious motives, it is highly probable that, in addition to this conscious motive, there are also unconscious (as well as other conscious) motivational explanations for Burmese religious spending. Despite this caveat, however, I have no reason to doubt the genuineness of the Burmese explanation-the desire for merit: indeed, despite Hagen's doubts, I am still convinced that, within their total motivational set, it is the most important. This does not mean, I hasten to add, that further analysis of this merit-bymeans-of-religious-spending pattern does not require recourse to unconscious motivation. For once we grant, as I do, that the desire for merit is both a genuine, and the most important, motive for Burmese religious spending, we are immediately con-

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fronted with another question: why is it that the Burmese hold this cognition? Why do they believe that religious giving is the most important means for acquiring merit? The first answer, of course, is historical: as Buddhists, the Burmese acquired this cognition from Buddhism. But historical answers--and here, again, I agree with Hagen-are only half an answer: granted that the cognition was acquired from Buddhism, we must still explain why it is that the Burmese believe in it and, more importantly, why they believe so intensely. And this question raises (at least) two problems that can be answered only by recourse to unconscious motivation: (1) Why is it that among the numerous means by which merit might conceivably be attained, the Burmese have chosen to emphasize giving (as well as morality and meditation) rather than (to mention but a few alternatives found in other major religions) study, good works, prayer, mortification, work in a calling, and so on? (2) Having chosen giving, why is it that they emphasize religious giving (feasting monks, building pagodas, making offerings to Buddha, constructing monasteries, and so on) rather than-indeed, even to the exclusion of-other kinds (such as building schools, constructing hospitals, endowing orphanages, and so on)? Since to answer these questions would require yet another paper, I would instead merely suggest the criteria for an adequate answer: (1) an assessment of the unconscious symbolic meanings of "giving," "monk," "pagoda," and so on; (2) a description of the unconscious drives, conflicts, and emotions of the Burmese-the psychological constellation described by Hagen, although only a partial description, is certainly true as far as it goes; (3) an analysis of the way in which religious giving, given the unconscious meanings associated with these religious symbols, serves to satisfy these drives, reduce these conflicts, and express these emotions. In short, although an analysis of the Burmese unconscious would not impugn the Burmese claim that the acquisition of merit is the motive for their religious spending, it would certainly explain the important question of why they believe that merit is acquired by religious spending (rather than by other, alternative, means); and it is here that Hagen's psychological analysis is illuminating. If, then, the Burmese are provident, Hagen's conclusion that I have offered an ad hoc (and, therefore, a nonparsimonious) explanation for why they are improvident is obviously invalid. But, since Hagen's argument, that Burmese religious giving is really a sign of improvidence, rests on his analysis of certain genotypic (unconscious) elements in Burmese character, I should like to conclude this commentary by turning the table on him. Perhaps Western saving and investment-the criterion against which the Burmese and other peasant societies are evaluated as improvident-although phenotypically providential, stem from entirely

different genotypic (unconscious) elements in Western character. Indeed, it is at least plausible, given our present knowledge, that Western concern with saving, investment, and-what Hagen is really concerned with-economic growth is based not so much on rational, providential, considerations, but on one or more (according to the personality type) of the following psychological constellations: retentive, compulsive personality traits and/or phobic attitudes to repressed libidinal drives and to sensuous pleasure, both of which must be defended against by an endless round of work, saving, and investment; or, a relentless desire for power and prestige (wealth= power= prestige) stemming from strong (unconscious) feelings of dependency and insecurity. This interpretation of Western "providence" would not, if true, deny that the consequences of Western economic behavior are providential; it would, however, impugn the claim that its motivation is based on calculations of providence. Moreover, if these psychological constellations are, indeed, the psychodynamic prerequisites for rapid economic growth, it might then be concluded by a future philosopher-king of Burma (or of some other developing nation) that its psychological costs are too high to pay relative to its economic gains. E. MEIFORD SPIRO University of Chicago NOTES Nor will it do to argue that since rebirth is a dis1 tortion of reality, belief in rebirth represents a projective fantasy by which the Burmese defend against repressed fears and anxieties. For in a prescientific culture, the belief in rebirth is as solidly grounded in "reality" as is the contrary belief, and its psychodynamic status, surely, is no different from the Western belief in eternal life after death. 2 Thus, government confiscation, both direct and indirect (achieved by an incredibly punitive tax system), is described in compelling detail by Sangermano (1893:Ch. 12). The near-ubiquity of warfare and the resultant periodic laying waste of the country-side is documented in almost every chapter in Harvey (1925). The economic dislocations attendant upon social and political unrest (as well as upon physical and climatic conditions) are stressed, among others, by Furnivall (1957:39-40). 3 From a strict interpretation of the law of karma, merit can neither be transferred to, nor-as the Burmese do at the conclusion of almost all ceremonies-be shared with, others. Nevertheless, the Burmese roots of these anomalous practices are as deep as old Pagan (cf., Harvey 1925:23, Pe Maung Tin 1936:64-65), and their Buddhist roots can be traced to scripture (cf. Poussin 1917:33) and to the earliest Commentaries (cf. Davids 1912:641). REFERENCES CITED
DAVIDS, T. W. RHYs

1912 Expiation and atonement. In Hastings encyclopedia of religion and ethics. FURNIVALL,J. S. 1957 An introduction to the political economy of

Lettersto the Editor

Burma. 3rd ed. Rangoon, People's Literature Committee and House. E. HAGEN,EVERETT 1968 Personality and religion in Burma. American Anthropologist 70:357-359. HARVEY, G. E. 1925 History of Burma. London, Longmans, Green. TIN PE MAUNG 1936 Buddhism in the inscriptions of Pagan. Journal of the Burma Research Society, 26: 52ff.
POUSSIN, L. DE LA VALLEE
SANGERMANO, VINCENTIUS

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1917 The way to nirvana. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

1893 The Burmese empire. Westminster, A. Constable.

E.

SPIRO, MELFORD

1966 Buddhism and economic action in Burma. American Anthropologist 68:1163-1173. THE "HOLE" COMMUNITY

Sir: In the February 1967 (69:41-54) issue of this journal, Dr. Miles Richardson writes, "As he looks briefly at San Pedro, the passenger, if he is Colombian, might mutter to himself 'iQue atrasado!' and if he is a North American, he may utter in agreement, 'What a hole!"' The Colombian and English phrases are not perfectly comparable, and I feel that the analogy presents a distortion worthy of comment. When Colombians say this, they may imply that the community is a place in which they would not live because it is below their sociocultural position in Colombian society. Or, they may imply that the people in the town are poor or economically depressed. The latter usage implies sympathy, or empathy with the way of life, whereas the North American "hole" concept is one of contempt, void of sympathy and certainly without empathy. Americans say "what a hole!" about cities and about nations. Surely we should not develop ethnological categories such as "hole" city or "hole" nation. Leaving aside such a ridiculous tendency as to attach the concept "hole" to something larger than the amorphous concept "community," where might the trend toward derogatory conceptualization lead us at the "community level"? Richardson makes brief allusion to a "Negro community" but does not tell us if this is also a "hole" community, although he tempts us with the statement that a "White" (mestizo) from the "Negro" community was the only respondent indicating that San Pedro was not "atrasado" but "progresivo" (1967:50). Perhaps, then, the Negro community is something "worse" than the "hole" community? Guachend, the Negro community referred to by Richardson, is usually referred to as a "pueblito muy feo" by the mestizos of the Cauca Valley (which includes the Departments of Cauca and

Valle). A North American, particularly one from the south, might refer to it as a "nigger town." The residents resent such a derogatory presentation to the larger society, and, certainly, an ethnographer would not be expected to use such contemptuous categorization in a scholarly journal. My sensitivity to such issues is partially a result of consulting with most of the anthropologists who have worked in Colombia and Ecuador for the Beals Report to the American Anthropological Association and partially the result of working with people in economically depressed communities, where outsiders often refer to them in derogatory terms. I am also concerned with the effects of an irresponsible use of gimmicks. Development of a quasiclassificatory concept such as "hole" (contemptible) community, in spite of the author's note 2 (1967: 53), strikes me as a gratuitous insult to Colombians in such towns. I ask that we carefully consider the way in which such gimmickery will be perceived in the host country when the article, or brief news of it, reaches those who reside in our ethnographic "holes."
NORMANE. WHITTEN, JR.

Washington University ADDITIONAL CLARIFICATION ABOUT A "DISADVANTAGED" COMMUNITY Sir: I have read Dr. Whitten's comments with some mystification. The mystification is compounded because Dr. Whitten is obviously knowledgeable about Colombia and is equally familiar with the Spanish language. Could it be that Whitten's demonstrated fluency in Spanish is not matched by an equal facility in English? "Hole," Whitten translates as a term "of contempt, void of sympathy and certainly without empathy." On the contrary, "hole" connotes respect at the gut level. The admiration that rides along with "hole" is a more profound sentiment than that associated with "economically depressed," "poverty stricken," "disadvantaged," and similar words full of hocus pocus but signifying nothing. I do not propose that "hole" be given a hallowed place in our lexicon, though it is tempting to speculate over the difficulties of maintaining a holistic view of a "hole" culture and over the heuristic possibilities of a "whole hole" continuum. I do propose to call attention to a community that has neither the world-renewal rites that give internal strength to the primitive nor the material massiveness and abundance that give pleasure to the rich urbanite. Having lost the first, and perhaps never to gain the second, the people of San Pedro exist. Their existence is important to them and to the anthropologist. I cannot smother the heroic quality of their lives with sticky romanticism; nor can I vio-