Possession, Demoniacal And Other

by T K Oesterreich

  There are even examples of the most extreme degree of autosuggestion, autosuggestive suicide. The English observer Mariner, who gives an impression of particular trustworthiness, has already communicated a case of this kind from the Tonga Islands:

  These imaginations, however, have sometimes produced very serious consequences; to give an instance: on one occasion a certain chief, a very handsome young man, became inspired but did not yet know by whom; on a sudden he felt himself very low-spirited, and shortly afterwards swooned away; when recovered from this, still finding himself very ill, he was taken to the house of a priest, who told the sick chief that it was a woman, mentioning her name, who had died two years before, and was now in Bolotoo (paradise) that had inspired him; that she was deeply in love with him, and wished him to die (which event was to happen in a few days) that she might have him near her: the chief replied that he had seen the figure of a female two or three successive nights in his sleep, and had begun to suspect that he was inspired by her, though he could not tell who she was. He died two days afterwards. Mr. Mariner visited the sick chief three or four times, at the house of the priest, and heard the latter foretell his death and the occasion of it.3

  We should certainly consider this story incredible were there not other similar accounts of death by autosuggestion.4

  In this connection our first thought is of the old stories such as that of Ananias and Sapphira in the Acts. A case has also come down to us from the fifteenth century. These would in themselves hardly furnish sufficient basis for a considered judgement, but there are more recent accounts of the same kind which put the matter beyond all doubt. We are indebted to Klaatsch for bringing them to light.

  This is what he says concerning the belief of the Australian aborigines that both the living and the dead can effect this strange form of death from a distance:

  Ability to exercise influence at a distance naturally varies, like the exhibition of strength in hand-to-hand fighting. There are men who are particularly feared by reason of their dangerous powers. These are wizards.…

  The strength of the belief in long-distance influence is attested by the “death-madness,” “thanatomania,” as Roth aptly calls it, found amongst the Australians. If a savage believes himself struck from afar, he lies down and slowly dies in consequence of the psychic affection. There is only one remedy, that is the counteracting of the influence by another wizard of the same kind.1

  In another place Klaatsch continues:

  This singular phenomenon (thanatomania) has been unanimously established by observers studying the life and customs of the aborigines in the most various regions of Australia. As regards the South where the race is already partly extinct and partly degenerate, we have the accounts of missionaries and of the oldest colonists.

  For the Adelaide district we have the careful observations of the Rev. G. Taplin, a missionary of Point McLeay.2 For Southern Queensland the excellent memoirs of Tom Petrie furnish a rich fund of information. This latter arrived in 1837 as a child at the place where Brisbane stands to-day, and established very friendly relations with the aborigines who have now completely disappeared.3 These old accounts confirm the new.…

  Not only the living but also the spirits of the dead may exert influence to cause death from a distance.4

  Unfortunately, I have not so far been able to procure the original narratives to which Klaatsch refers.

  These accounts are also entirely confirmed by Eylmann, who has made a prolonged sojourn in South Australia and lived with the people as one of themselves.5

  Analogous cases are also known in northern Asia. A modern Russian investigator relates of the people of the Orotcha:

  Once upon a time a man of Orotcha was returning home at night by moonlight and the country was everywhere covered with a thick mantle of snow. Suddenly he saw one of his souls jump aside and run off (it is generally believed in Siberia that man has several souls and these are conceived as very material). It had gone. Seized with mortal fear he hurried home as fast as possible, and once arrived took to his bed with high fever and remained there for two days and nights until the shaman was fetched. This latter shamanized, caught the fugitive soul and reinstated it in the man’s body at the end of operations lasting for almost six hours, whereupon the patient arose on the following morning completely cured.

  Other cases might also be cited.1

  Given their high degree of autosuggestibility, it is not surprising that primitive races are very prone to mental derangements of an autosuggestive character. The number of mental troubles cured by all sorts of magic procedure is quite astonishing, and all these must, of course, be purely autosuggestive. Unhappily we are not yet in a position to say whether they are simply hysterical; this can only be suggested when the complaint is not merely a psychic malady of autosuggestive origin, but shows the typical complex of symptoms. Autosuggestive derangement alone would not seem to me adequate to justify the diagnosis of hysteria, which would only be legitimate in the presence of other symptoms. We are faced with exactly the same problem as arose earlier in respect of epidemics of possession.

  Judging by the available information, it is by no means certain that hysteria is always present. It rather appears that the matter is often simply one of a higher general and “normal” degree of suggestibility on the part of primitive peoples, or at least many of their number. Their general psychological resemblance to the child-mind is here manifested, and just as no class of schoolchildren attacked by an epidemic of trembling should without further ado be roundly designated as hysterical, the same holds good of primitive people. Both children and savages show a greater degree of suggestibility than do normal adults without this constituting hysteria properly so called.

  It is high time that suggestibility and autosuggestibility amongst primitive races were studied more narrowly. The question is of general importance from the standpoint of racial psychology and ethnology.

  As regards possession, the autosuggestibility of primitive races makes itself felt in the marked frequency with which states of this nature are deliberately provoked. As soon as they are expected by the person concerned they obviously come on with great readiness.

  This artificially provoked possession amongst primitive peoples raises a number of psychological problems, combining as it does in a remarkable way deliberate play-acting with spontaneous psychic development. It should certainly not be supposed that the “artificially” possessed behave in all respects like persons under the influence of spontaneous possession. The close, or even the merely superficial observer, provided he troubles to think for a moment, at once perceives that they generally carry out a definite “programme.” The details of what they do are fixed by custom. They first accomplish a certain sacrifice after certain ceremonies, then they turn to certain persons and speak to them likewise in a sense which is in the main predictable. All this shows that their conduct is largely “studied”; projects conceived in the normal waking state produce their effect in trance. A casual observer might perhaps immediately conclude that we are not dealing with cases of possession at all, but merely with fraud. Such a conception cannot, however, be defended, the very numerous accounts placing beyond dubiety that the states of the shamans are generally not fraudulent but entirely abnormal in character, a fact often confirmed by the abnormal physiological state. We have therefore no option but to admit the existence of an abnormal state, the phenomena of which are nevertheless often determined by the anterior waking consciousness. Moreover in somnambulistic states the ordinary psychic life is by no means entirely blotted out, speech and its comprehension, as well as a number of cognitions and memories from the waking state, being as a rule perfectly preserved. If the normal psychic life had completely disappeared, a man on falling into a somnambulistic state would be like a new-born child.

  The second surprising phenomenon is that with many races possession is preluded by sudden collapse. It is certain that this is intimately associated with the profound modification occurri
ng in the psychic structure, but unfortunately we are not for the moment in a position to say more on the subject; far too little is known of psycho-physical relations.

  Artificial possession by animals is also known, the masked dances of primitive peoples often furnishing occasion for it. The participants generally represent various animals, from which they are not as a rule clearly distinguished by the spectators, but are rather regarded as identical with them. In the eyes of the onlookers they do not represent the animals, they are the animals. But the dancers are, at least for a time, not only one with the animals in the eyes of the bystanders, but also in their own, they identify themselves with them. The question before us is to know the nature of this change of personal consciousness. Is it purely intellectual—that is to say, does the dancer merely think himself identical with the particular animal, or does his personality really suffer a profound change? Only in the second case could we speak of possession.

  What are the real facts of the matter?

  Unfortunately no fully satisfactory answer can be given, as information is deficient on a number of points. There are innumerable accounts of the manner in which the dances are executed, in what order, with what figures, how many dancers, etc., and much has also been written concerning the masks worn by the dancers, with which moreover the ethnological museums are filled. On the other hand, ethnologists have almost always neglected to obtain information about the psychological state of the dancers during the performance. It is only from meagre and casual remarks that the student can occasionally draw inferences on this subject, and even then without any conviction of standing on firm ground, since the ethnologists themselves have paid no attention to the points under discussion. In this connection we must once more deprecate the fact that ethnology confines itself to somewhat superficial aspects and lacks the deeper questioning spirit of psychology.

  For my own part I presume that the original state of things is possession, but that later the dances have in many cases been transformed into simple representations. Frazer 1 is obviously right, moreover, in seeking in these ritual dances the origins of the drama. Between true possession and mere studied participation in rehearsed performances of a stereotyped nature there are of course innumerable stages, just as amongst modern actors the psychic state differs widely in individual cases; in many it approaches possession, in others performance is completely detached and apparently the outcome of intellectual calculation.

  There can be no question of an exhaustive treatment of voluntary possession in the following pages. I shall give and elucidate material accumulated with the passing years, and even quote documents in extenso, as no one can be expected to investigate the widely scattered evidence on the spot, and such a collection is as yet nowhere available. This evidence, in spite of its fragmentary nature, will permit us to form a clear conception of the part which may be played by the phenomena of possession. The nature of the states themselves is not everywhere alike, depending as it does entirely on the autosuggestive expectation of the possessed.

  I shall begin with the primitive peoples, the pigmies, amongst whom a kind of Shamanism is found concerning which the available information is unfortunately still scanty in the extreme.

  Martin has collected the accounts of Shamanism amongst the pigmy races of the interior of the Malay Peninsula.1 The shamans are there designated by the name of poyangs.

  “The dignity of poyang is generally hereditary, that is to say that supernatural gifts are transmitted from father to son.”2 But this is not a simple, I might say legal, transmission of office; inspiration is necessary before any man can become a poyang. In other words, only an outstandingly autosuggestible individual can become a shaman; those not possessed of this quality to a sufficient degree are excluded from the beginning.

  An investigator of the first half of the nineteenth century, T. J. Newbold, describes the consecration in detail as follows. Underlying the proceedings is the idea that the soul of the dead shaman has passed into a tiger and that this latter appears to his descendants.

  The corpse of the Poyang is placed erect against the projection near the root of a large tree in the depth of a forest, and carefully watched and supplied with rice and water for seven days and nights by the friends and relatives. During this period the transmigration (believed to be the result of an ancient compact made in olden times by the Poyang’s ancestors with a tiger) is imagined to be in active operation. On the seventh day, it is incumbent on the deceased Poyang’s son, should he be desirous of exercising similar supernatural powers, to take a censer and incense of Kamunian wood, and to watch near the corpse alone; when the deceased will shortly appear in the form of a tiger on the point of making the fatal spring upon him. At this crisis it is necessary not to betray the slightest symptom of alarm, but to cast with a bold heart and firm hand the incense on the fire; the seeming tiger will then disappear. The spectres of two beautiful women will next present themselves, and the novice will be cast into a deep trance, during which the initiation is presumed to be perfected. These aerial ladies thenceforward become his familiar spirits, “the slaves of the ring,” by whose invisible agency the secrets of nature, the hidden treasures of the earth are unfolded to him. Should the heir of the Poyang omit to observe this ceremonial, the spirit of the deceased, it is believed, will re-enter for ever the body of the tiger, and the mantle of enchantment be irrevocably lost to the tribe.1

  The soul of the dead man is only provisionally incarnated in the tiger, and when the inspiration has been successfully accomplished it passes from thence into the new shaman.

  In other cases an innate and unusual gift may confer the right and possibility of rising to be poyang of a community, or else instruction by a known and tried poyang confers a title to the exercise of the office.2

  For the purpose of exorcising the sick, the poyang enters voluntarily into an abnormal condition.

  The exorcisms take place at night: fire, incense, and various herbs and roots possessed of marvellous properties are used. The besawye or ceremony of exorcism consists in the burning of incense and muttering at midnight of magic formulae over the herbs, the most important of these being Palas, Subong, Krong, Lebbar, and Bertram, and finally in conjuring the spirit of the mountains. If the operation is successful the spirit descends, plunges the exorcist into a state of unconsciousness (possession), in which he imparts to him what the latter desires to know.3

  This ceremony resembles in many respects the one in use amongst the Malays, and the methods adopted, the burning of incense, dancing, music and noise are the same as we encounter everywhere in Shamanism. The essence of the whole procedure is that through the incense, dancing, etc., and through autosuggestion the pawang falls into an unconscious state in which he is able not only to drive out spirits but reply to any questions put to him. The loss of consciousness is considered as possession and consequently the replies are not those of the pawang but of the spirit who has entered into him and now speaks by his mouth.1

  These descriptions are naturally very far from clear and show how necessary it is for ethnologists to possess a more thorough knowledge of psychology. There can be no question of loss of consciousness. From the first description one would be inclined to postulate a sort of state in which the shamans lose all contact with the outer world; according to the second, on the other hand, there appears to be a certain mutual intercourse with the bystanders, since questions are put to the shaman and he replies. A further contradiction is that in the first description we are apparently dealing with auditions on the part of the shaman, the spirit imparting communications to him, whereas according to the second there is veritable possession. Naturally the two cannot co-exist, but the shaman might sometimes have mere visions and auditions and sometimes fall into a state of possession. The expression “loss of consciousness” must simply mean that the individual concerned is not “known to himself” but that he has become somnambulistic, and that the normal individuality is apparently replaced by that of the invading spirit
.

  As we have already remarked, voluntary possession includes many cases of the animal variety. Martin relates of the pigmies of the Malay Peninsula:

  … Bound up with these ideas is also another that wizards are able to change themselves into various animals and in this new form to harm their fellow-men, even devouring their flesh. The most celebrated and also the most frequent is self-metamorphosis into a raging tiger; this has numerous analogies in different parts of the world and beyond all doubt rests on autosuggestion. Skeat and Laidlaw obtained from a B’lian at Ulu Aring the following description of the procedure requisite to the achievement of this metamorphosis:

  “You go,” he said, “a long way into the jungle” (usually, he added, into the next valley), “and there, when you are quite alone, you squat down upon your haunches, burn incense, and making a trumpet of your hand blow some of the smoke of the incense through it, at the level of your face, in three directions. You then repeat this process, holding your hand close to the ground; all you now have to say is, ‘Yẽ chöp’ (‘I am going abroad’), and presently your skin will change, the stripes will appear, your tail will fall down, and you will become a tiger. When you wish to return say, ‘Yẽ wet’ (‘I am going home’), and you will presently return to your natural form.”2

  In a rather more detailed description which Skeat has recently given 1 it is also stated that in squatting the B’lian leans forward, rests upon his hands and rapidly moves his head from right to left. This exercise combined with the inhalation of the smoke is certainly not without influence on the production of autosuggestive ecstasy. Moreover, the whole of this procedure recalls that often used in exorcism of the sick, when the Malay pawang by the force of autosuggestion flings himself about and covers the body of the sick person in the manner of a tigress.2 Here it is, of course, the tiger-hantu (hantu =spirit) which has passed into the pawang, not the wizard who changes himself into a tiger. 3