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by Faun Rice


  some insisted their own Fool Society used to hold police powers in the summer

  months (1909: 72)—but ended up concluding that despite frequent conver-

  gences between “clowning” and “police functions” across the Plains, there was no

  systematic relationship between the two.14 In fact, warrior societies, ritual fools

  or contraries, and temporary police associations seem to have largely split apart,

  and there no longer seems to have been any sense in which those assigned police

  powers embodied deities of any sort.15

  We can observe, then, three stages of a logical progression:

  1. (California) clowns as embodiments of divine power, with a moral logic

  external and contrary to society, wielding arbitrary powers of command and

  punishment, but only during the course of rituals.

  2. (Northwest Coast) Fools as delegates of divine power, with a moral logic

  external and contrary to society, wielding arbitrary police powers during cer-

  emonies that extended across the ritual season.

  3. (Plains) temporary police societies, no longer divine or external, but wield-

  ing arbitrary powers of enforcement delegated to them over the course of

  the ritual season, but not limited to the rituals themselves.

  14. “Clownish behavior and police functions likewise occur in varying combinations

  and cannot be taken to define any one type of organization of the Plains Indians”

  (Lowie 1909: 98).

  15. “During the Sun Dance police were selected for the preservation of order by the

  Dakota, Crow, Assiniboine, Blackfoot, Sansi, Iowa, Plains-Cree, and the Kansa;

  among some of the groups these police also supervised the conduct of the dance

  ritual” (Provinse 1937: 348). Often in that specific context their power was delegated

  by the officiating priest or master of ceremonies, but they do not seem to have been

  themselves in any sense an extension of metahuman beings.

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  I should emphasize that this is a logical progression, and in no sense an attempt

  at historical reconstruction. The actual course of events, in any given instance,

  was likely far more complicated.16 Still, it represents one way that sovereign

  power could, as it were, burst through the its frame, even while still being care-

  fully contained within the ritual season in such a way that it could not, as in the

  modern state, suffuse and inform the entirety of everyday existence.

  In fact, why it did not was precisely Lowie’s problem. Lowie’s 1948 Huxley

  Lecture, “Some aspects of political organization among the American Aborigi-

  nes” (1948b), was specifically concerned with why states had largely failed to

  develop in the Americas, and concludes that indigenous Americans had created

  institutional arrangements to ensure that they did not. If this sounds similar to

  Pierre Clastres’ argument in Society against the state (1977), that chiefship among

  most North and South American societies was constructed in such a way that

  arbitrary, sovereign power—authority that could not be questioned since it was

  ultimately backed up by force—could not possibly develop out of it, there is a

  reason. Clastres’ argument was directly taken from Lowie.17 Clastres even ended

  his own essay in the same way as Lowie’s Huxley Lecture: by concluding that

  since secular chiefship was designed to prevent the emergence of powers of

  command, the latter could only have emerged from the religious sphere, from

  prophecy, or some similar appeal to exterior cosmic authority (Lowie 1948b:

  21–2; P. Clastres 1977: 183–86).

  As far as I know, no one has really developed a theory of the prophetic origin

  of the state. Presumably this is because there’s so little evidence to support it.

  One of the few to have taken the argument seriously, Fernando Santos-Granero

  (1993), makes the obvious point that this kind of charismatic authority is no-

  toriously unstable, and that even in those places where it does seem to have

  become institutionalized, such as among the Amuesha of the Peruvian Amazon,

  16. Morphological y, the Plains societies, with their extreme seasonal variation and

  annual concentration for hunting of megafauna, probably are (despite their limited

  reliance on agriculture) if anything more analogous for Paleolithic societies across

  much of Eurasia, while the Californians and Northwest Coast societies would, at least

  in comparison, be more Mesolithic. But such analogies are always extremely inexact.

  17. In his first exposition of the idea in L’Homme, Clastres does acknowledge the debt,

  noting for instance that his list of chiefly functions is taken directly from Lowie’s 1948

  essay (Clastres 1962: 53, 55, 58), but the relationship has been ignored by Clastres’ later

  avatars (with a few exceptions: e.g., Santos-Granero 1993; Wengrow and Graeber

  2015). What Lowie cal ed “libertarianism,” Clastres referred to as “anarchism,” but in

  the context of their times, the two words meant pretty much the same thing.

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  it leads to a kind of constant gumsa/ gumlao-like rise and collapse of priestly do-

  mains.18 While there are examples of prophets founding states (Muhammad is

  an obvious example), such events are surprisingly rare in human history.

  Still, the insight does ring true in a certain very broad sense. The principal

  example Clastres himself invoked were the Tupí-Guaraní prophets who up-

  rooted whole communities to go off in search of a “land without evil,” in which

  the basic dilemmas of death and reproduction would be finally resolved and the

  sundering of the worlds of gods and men undone (see also H. Clastres 1995).

  This kind of utopian vision does, indeed, seem to lie behind the very project of

  creating kingdoms and, later, states. I have myself noted the analogy of the role

  of Nuer prophets, and the Shilluk reth: one might say that where prophets fore-

  tell a total resolution of the great dilemmas of human existence in the future,

  divine kings embody a partial resolution of those same dilemmas in the present,

  their courts constituting a kind of paradise.

  Does this mean that divine kingship represents the final explosion of the

  divine into the human domain, a kind of final shattering of its ritual, or seasonal,

  containment? I think this is true only to a very limited degree. Ordinarily, we are

  speaking only of a frail and diminutive sort of paradise.

  To illustrate, let me turn to one final North American example, the Natchez

  kingdom of what’s now southern Louisiana. It is considered the only genuinely

  unambiguous example of divine kingship north of the Rio Grande.

  The divine kingship of the Natchez

  In 1739, the Jesuit missionary Father Maturin Le Petit put forth the argu-

  ment that the Natchez, who called themselves Théoloël or “People of the Sun,”

  were the only American people to have a system of beliefs worthy of the name

  “religion.”19 Natchez religion, he observed, centered on two enormous earthen

  platforms that dominated their Great Village; on top of one of them was a Tem-

  ple, atop the other, the house of their ruler, known as the Great Sun, capable of

  holding perhaps four thousand people—that is, the entire Natchez popula
tion

  at the time. A spacious plaza lay between. The Temple contained carved images

  18. Santos-Granero suggests one might see the emergence of states when the prophets

  ally with autonomous warrior bands, and become self-reproducing lineages. But

  again, this is basically speculation.

  19. It would appear that “Natchez” was really just the name of what the French called

  the “grand village” in which the Sun resided.

  NOTES ON THE POLITICS OF DIVINE KINGSHIP

  391

  and an eternal flame, as well as baskets holding the charred remains of the for-

  mer rulers and their servants; common people brought offerings to ancestors

  buried within, but aside from four temple guardians, only members of the royal

  family were allowed to enter:

  The Chief of this Nation, who knows nothing on earth more dignified than him-

  self, takes the title of brother of the Sun. To enable them better to converse to-

  gether, they raise a mound of artificial soil, on which they build his cabin, which

  is of the same construction as the Temple. The door fronts the East, and every

  morning the great Chief honors by his presence the rising of his elder brother,

  and salutes him with many howlings as soon as he appears above the horizon.

  Then he gives orders that they shall light his calumet; he makes him an offering

  of the first three puffs which he draws; afterwards raising his hand above his

  head, and turning from the East to the West, he shows him the direction which

  he must take in his course . . . . (Le Petit 1848: 269–70)

  Le Petit’s description is matched by many others. We have multiple accounts

  of the protocol surrounding the Great Sun, as he was ordinarily called, and his

  close relatives, also called Suns. “Their subjects, and even the chiefs of the vil-

  lages, never approach them but they salute them three times, setting up a cry,

  which is a kind of howling”—that is, hailing the Great Sun exactly as he himself

  greets the Sun each morning. “They do the same when they retire, and they

  retire walking backwards” (Charlevoix 1763: 315). None might eat with the

  Sun, nor touch any plate or vessel he had touched; his meals were meticulously

  choreographed; when he left his house, carried on his warriors’ shoulders on a

  litter, his subjects had to prostrate themselves and call out when he passed.

  Similar but less stringent etiquette surrounded the Tattooed Serpent, the

  Great Sun’s brother and military commander, and the White Woman, his eldest

  sister, whose child (the Natchez being matrilineal) was to be the next Great Sun.

  All three, they emphasized, had the power of life and death over their subjects.

  “As soon as anyone has had the misfortune to displease any of them, they order

  their guards, whom they call allouez, to kill him. ‘Go and rid me of that dog,’ say

  they, and they are immediately obeyed” (ibid.). The Suns could also help them-

  selves to their subjects’ possessions.

  The submissiveness of the savages to their chief, who commands them with the

  most despotic power, is extreme. They obey him in everything he may command

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  them. When he speaks they howl nine times by way of applause and to show

  him their satisfaction, and if he demands the life of any one of them, he comes

  himself to present his head. (Dumont in Swanton 1911: 104)

  Similarly, Le Petit:

  The people blindly obey the least wish of their great chief. They look upon him

  as absolute master not only of their property but also of their lives, and not one

  of them would dare refuse him his head. (1848: 271)

  The Suns were divine in every sense of the term. They were literally gods—de-

  scendants of two children of the Sun, a radiant brother and sister, who had come

  to earth to establish peace by creating the institutions of government—and they

  were also divine in the broader sense that they could act with absolute arbitrari-

  ness and impunity. The only limit, in fact, on the actions of Suns is that they ap-

  pear to have been forbidden to do violence toward other Suns: members of the

  royal family, who numbered perhaps twenty, could not be harmed under any cir-

  cumstances. One unusual result was that royals, and apparently some of the lower

  grades of nobility as well, could only marry commoners—since a Sun’s wives

  or husbands, along with their servants and retainers, all had to be put to death

  as part of the obloquies at their funeral, and this would be impossible if they

  had themselves been of equal rank. The result was a complex system of sinking

  status: while the children of female Suns remained Suns, children of male Suns

  descended one rank down each generation (to “Noble,” then “Honored” status)

  until their great-grandchildren became commoners again. The actual dynamics

  of this system (it was complicated by the fact it was also possible to move up

  ranks by accomplishment in war) have kept anthropologists busy for generations

  trying to figure out exactly how it could work in practice, without the top three

  classes eventually running out of commoners to marry (on the “Natchez para-

  dox,” see MacLeod 1924; Josselin de Jong 1928; Haas 1939; Davis 1941; Hart

  1943; Quimby 1946; Tooker 1963; J. L. Fisher 1964; Mason 1964; Brain 1971;

  D. R. White, Murdock, and Scaglion 1971; Knight 1990; Lorenz 2000: 153–57).

  The technicalities need not concern us.20 Suffice it to say the divine qual-

  ity of even male Suns was passed on, but only to a certain attenuated degree.

  20. In fact there’s no particular reason to assume Noble and Honored classes could

  only marry commoners in the first place (MacLeod 1924; Tooker 1953; Mason

  NOTES ON THE POLITICS OF DIVINE KINGSHIP

  393

  Scandalized French observers noted how women of the ruling matrilineage could

  take lovers as they pleased, but order their commoner husbands’ heads be clapped

  against blocks of wood if they so much as suspected them of infidelity; such

  husbands, one observed, took on the air of masters among the numerous house-

  hold servants but stooped like slaves in the presence of their wives, on whose

  death they would, like the rest of the household, be strangled. All members of

  the royal family were assigned servants at birth, many culled from infants born

  on the same day, who were expected to form part of their household in life, and

  accompany their master or mistress in death, along with any “voluntary slaves”

  (Swanton 1911: 100; Milne 2015: 38) who joined the household afterward.

  This seems as close to absolute sovereignty as one might imagine. There

  seems no check at all on royal power. But if one reads the original sources

  carefully, cracks in this façade begin to show. Take the word “Stinkard.” In the

  anthropological literature, the commoner class is regularly referred to as “the

  Stinkards,” since the French sources regularly use the term, but it turns out this

  word was just one of many ways the nobles expressed contempt for ordinary

  people when speaking with each other. It was never used before the commoners

  themselves:

  The Natchez Nation is composed of nobility and people. The people are called in

  their language Michi-Michi-Quipy, which signif
ies Puant (“Stinkard”), a name,

  however, which offends them, and which no one dares to pronounce before

  them, for it would put them in a very bad humor. The Stinkards have a language

  entirely different from the Nobility,21 to whom they are submissive in the last

  degree. (Du Pratz 1774: 328, translation after Swanton 1911: 108)

  “Submissive in the last degree,” that is, unless one used a word they didn’t like.

  Such apparently contradictory statements are commonplace in early

  European accounts of distant kingdoms. One encounters them in descriptions

  1964), or that “Honored” were a class at all, for that matter. For what it’s worth,

  I find Knight’s (1990) argument that the Natchez system is a transformation of a

  ranked exogamous clan system of a sort that had likely been common within the

  Mississippian civilization, and Lorenz’s reconstruction (2010: 153–57) of how the

  system might have worked, largely convincing. The phenomenon of sinking status

  will be discussed in greater detail in the final part of this essay.

  21. This does not appear to have been true, though there were certain differences in

  vocabulary.

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  ON KINGS

  of courts in Asia, Africa, and the Americas alike. In much the same way that

  European observers would often assert that a given people “go naked”—and

  then go on to describe their clothes—they would often first insist on the un-

  limited, “despotic” power of their king—and then go on to elaborate its (often

  very considerable) limits. In the case of the Thécloëls, the confusion has caused

  most recent authorities (e.g., Hudson 1978: 210; Lorenz 2000: 158–59; Balvay

  2008; Milne 2015: 33–38) to conclude that French observers—who were, after

  all, loyal subjects of their own Sun King, Louis XIV—were simply confused

  by unfamiliar forms of deference, and that their assertions of the Great Sun’s

  absolute power had almost nothing to do with the Natchez at all, but were mere

  projections of their own absolutist monarchy.

  This is not entirely untrue. Certainly, in purely political terms, the Great

  Sun’s power was sharply limited.22 War councils would often ignore his advice;

  most of the six subordinate districts—even the three that had members of the

  royal family imposed as governors—pursued independent trade and foreign

 

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