to Ten Articles Main Page
Abrahams, Roger D. 1968. “Introductory Remarks
to a Rhetorical Theory Of Folklore.” Journal of American
Folklore
81 (319): 143-158.
“Introductory Remarks to a Rhetorical Theory
of Folklore”
Roger D. Abrahams
[beginning of page 143]
The gulf between the literary and anthropological
folklorists is nowhere
more clearly seen than in the ways in which the two view the form and
performance
of elements of traditional expressive culture. The literary
folklorist,
trained in the analysis of form and distribution, looks at the
construction
of the specific traditional item in order to discuss its constituent
elements
and the variations which occur in the item as it is transmitted
traditionally.
The anthropologist, generally lacking this aesthetic training and
predilection,
rather looks at the ways in which the traditional performance fits into
the day-to-day life of a specific group, or he focuses on the cultural
content of the various items of performance in order to explore those
manifestations
which interest him most: cosmology, value structure, family system, and
other institutional matters.
From the aesthetician’s point of view, both of these
approaches do violence
to the art of traditional expression. The folklorist, by
emphasizing
construction and dissemination, ignores the expression of energy and
the
beauty of order inherent in these materials. We seldom have
insights
provided by him as to how or why these pieces function effectively or
remain
in traditional currency. On the other hand, the anthropologist,
by
neglecting the stylistic components of traditional expression, often
fails
to relate cultural value to cultural style, but if he does, the
relation
commonly emerges in such an insular context (because of his concern
with
the specific groups with whom he had done field research) that the
value
of his analysis is severely limited.
The limitations of these divergent points of view are
perhaps more easily
discernible when they are compared with the full range of aesthetic
approaches
used [beginning of page 144] in the past. There are four
basic
ways in which a work of art, traditional or otherwise, has been
approached.
The first underlines the importance of the shaping hand of the artist,
seeing the work of art and its effect upon the audience as by-products
of the manipulative energies of the performing creator or
interpreter.
This approach we know best through Romantic criticism, but is that used
by most Freudian art critics as well. The second centers upon the
work of art as an object, divorcing the artist and his audience from
consideration
(at least for the critical moment). This approach sees all creations of
art as self-sufficient entities; it implies that once a work is created
it is capable of speaking for itself, and must be analyzed in terms of
its internal characteristics and the interrelationships of its
parts.
This approach is the one followed by the practitioners of the New
Criticism,
though this focus was used long before that movement began (for
instance,
by Aristotle where he formulated his concept of the dramatic
unities).
The third approach is primarily concerned with the way in which the
performance
affects the audience. Once again in Aristotelian terms, this
approach
examines the cathartic effect of a work. The fourth focuses on
the
way in which the audience affects the performance. It analyzes
the
way in which public values and conventions arise and are encouraged,
and
how the performer is affected by the presence of the audience and by
public
values and tastes. The last two approaches, in other words, emphasize
the
public nature of the attistic occasion, as opposed the more private
concerns
of the first two. Those who have used this public point of view
have
therefore gravitated toward the analysis of the popular arts or the
popular
aspects of belles lettres. Recent works on communications
and popular culture by Father Ong, Marshall McLuhan, and Reuel Denney,
for instance, have approached art from this point of view.
In terms of these four alternatives, the anthropological
folklorist
is more interested in audience values in most of his forays in the area
of aesthetics. He is usually concerned with the public nature of
symbolic action and representation within specific groups, or with the
public values and practices depicted. The literary folklorist, on
the other hand, is more directly centered upon the art object divorced
from artist and audience. Those of the “Sources and Analogues” or
“Geographical-Historical” schools are not concerned with the esthetic
effect
of the object so much as the distribution of its component parts in
time
and space. The recent structuralist criticism, on the other hand,
is more directly in tune with the New Criticism, viewing the item in
terms
of the relationships of its constituent parts. By comparing the
conventions
of dramatic or linguistic movement by genre or within a specific group,
they drive toward recognition of patterns of expectation inherent in
the
aesthetic style of the genre or the group, and thus provide both an
analytic
and predictive tool for handling traditional materials.
These are not the only possible approaches to the analysis of
traditional
expression. In fact, what is needed is a method which would
emphasize
all aspects of the aesthetic performance: performance, item, and
audience.
Such an approach would use the insights provided by the Functionalist
School
of anthropologists, who see folklore in its contextual frame, and would
also bring to bear the formalistic perceptions of recent literary
criticism.
Just such an approach to literature and other expressive manifestations
of society has been explored by recent critics who have revived the
concept
of rhetoric as the art of persuasion, and [beginning of page 145]
seen that the essence of persuasion resides both in effective form and
compelling performance.
Perhaps the most important forerunner of this method was
Sigmund Freud,
in his book, Jokes and their Relation to the Unconscious.
(1)
He argues that jokes function as a way of saying things that need to be
said -- but which are generally prohibited by society -- by the framing
of these subjects in witty form. By doing this, the jokester is
capable
of duping society temporarily and of achieving a persoanl ego gain in
the
process. Furthermore, Freud emphasizes that this could not occur
if the members of the audience did not want the jokester to perform in
this way.
The most important and persistent exponent of the rhetorical
method
has been Kenneth Burke. He has shown in a number of works that
words
have power and that performance therefore is a way of persuading
through
the production of pleasure, as well as the assertion of idea or course
of action. He argues that all language is a process of naming,
that
naming gives comfort by creating a feeling of control, that for one to
know the name of a thing is to achieve magical control over it, and
that
this control can be used by the speaker to influence simply by voicing
the “name.” Utterance assumes a dimension of personal power which
becomes more profound as the utterance becomes more
self-conscious.
Therefore, the more artistic the utterance (or performance), the larger
amount of word-magic is being brought to liar. The importance of
this theory is that it causes us to consider the form and function of
the
isolated item; we look simultaneously at the performer, at the piece he
performs, and at the effect which this has on the audience. He
distinguishes
between “situations” and “strategies”: “We think of poetry [or any
self-consciously
voiced expressions] as the adopting of various strategies for the
encompassing
of situations. These strategies size up the situations, name
their
structure and outstanding ingredients, and name them in a way that
contains
an attitude toward them.” (2)
I
Expressive folklore is made up of items of traditional
performance which
call attention to themselves because of their artifice. Each
piece
of folklore is artfully and artificially organized. As with any
work
of art, materials are manipulated so that they appear coherent and
vital.
Further, items of expressive folklore differ from other modes of
experience
because they come to life only through that special kind of organized
and
habitual action called “performance.” Both form and performance
emphasize
the artificial nature of the expression.
The full analysis of a tradition or genre calls for study of
the organizational
elements of both items and performances. A recent barrage of
studies
by folklorists and anthropologists has emphasized the organizational
principles
of one or another genre of lore outside their performance
context.
Such “structural” analyses have directed attention to linguistic and
dramatic
principles of construction, without much attempt at discussing the
artistic
quality of the organization or the way the expressive object achieves
its
effect. (3) In other words, only one aspect of the stylistics of
traditions has been investigated by these structuralists.
On the other hand, one of these investigators, Alan Dundes,
has noted
that the performance dimension is similarly capable of being analyzed
in
terms of its [beginning of page 146] traditional organization,
and,
given his bias, he calls this “the structure of context.” (4) A
number
of recent studies have analyzed just such matters in regard to
traditions
within specific cultures, most notably those of Degh, Crowley, and
Finnegan.
(5) Examination of “structure of context” calls for an analysis
of
the relation between the participants in an aesthetic transaction (in
actors
and observers) as the relation is modified by time and place and
occasion.
Such a description invites a fuller understanding of the affective
dimension
of performance. Each item of lore can be discussed meaningfully
in
terms of linguistic and dramatic organization and relationship of
performer
to the rest of the group. In fact, understanding of an item (and
by extension, the tradition in which it exists) begins with an
interrelating
of all of these stylistic matters. It is not enough to perceive
how
ideas and attitudes are embodied in forms that produce pleasure and
beauty
and edification. Function, and the relations between form and
usage,
are equally critical.
The relationship between levels of stylistic ordering cannot
be established
without an understanding of the principle that each item of expressive
culture is an implement of argument, a tool of persuasion. A
piece
is enacted by a performer who tries to use it to affect an audience in
some way. He embodies his argument in traditional form, and this
makes his technique of argument traditional as well -- but argue he
does,
even when he seems to be entertaining. The rhetorical approach
would
deal with all levels of style simultaneously in order to show how they
interrelate through the direction of argument. Each argument must
have a method of attack, a “strategy,” and each level of
item-performance
contributes in some way to the implementation of the strategy. An
utterance asks for some kind of sympathetic reaction on the part of the
hearer, a reaction induced by manipulation of materials (words,
gestures,
dramatic movement) in combination with the technique by which the
speaker
relates to his audience. The rhetorical approach centers upon the
aesthetic techniques by which this sympathy is evoked, but insists upon
placing equal emphasis on the area of affect. By analyzing
strategy,
it relates the performer and audience to the item being performed.
Once this frame of reference is established it is relatively
easy to
study not only the aesthetic construction of an item, but also patterns
of use and relations between performer and audience. The problem
is how to relate the levels of structure effectively, and this
is
what the rhetorical approach attempts to do; it assumes in the
performance
situation the existence of both an item and an affect
and
proceeds to ask, “how?”
As the rhetorical approach considers techniques of argument,
it assumes
that all expression is designed to influence, and that we must simply
discover
the design. Folklore, being traditional activity, argues
traditionally;
it uses arguments and persuasive techniques developed in the past to
cope
with recurrences of social problem situations. In fact, the very
traditional nature of the expression is one of the impottant techniques
of persuasion in a tradition-oriented group. The problems
specifically
attacked by folk expression are those that threaten the existence of
the
group. Folklore functions normatively, as a cohesive force.
...folklore operates within a society to
ensure conformity
to the accepted cultural norms, and continuity from generation to
generation through its role in education and the extent to which
it mirrors culture...
[beginning of page 147] Viewed in this
light, folklore
is an important mechanism for maintaining the stability of
culture.
It is used to inculcate the customs and ethical standards in the young,
and as an adult to reward him with praise when he conforms, to punish
him
with ridicule or criticism when he deviates, to provide him with
rationalizations
when the institutions and conventions are challenged or questioned, to
suggest that he be content with things as they are, and to provide him
with a compensatory escape from the “hardships, the inequalities, the
injustices”
of everyday life. (6)
|
In rhetorical terms, this means that folklore, using persuasive
techniques
developed in the past, argues for adherence to the normal course, the
middle
way already tested by past usage. These persuasions work by
providing
charter for action, by legislating, by justifying, by educating, by
applying
social pressure, by providing socially approved outlets for anti-social
motives.
II
The addition of the dimensions of rhetorical intent and
contextual structure
allows an emphasis upon the dynamic qualities of folklore in
performance.
Discussion of linguistic or dramatic structure does not generally
explain
these qualities in dynamic terms. Structural technique does
include
discussion of a progression of sounds or motives or ideas, but
progression
is less dynamic than movement. Movement is, in fact, the
most
important characteristic of an item of folklore. The discernment
causes us not only to see the item as an entity but also to
recognize
that for it to succeed we must feel with it. This
sympathetic
(or empathic) reaction is inherent in the aesthetic construction of the
piece, but it takes effect only as the item is performed.
Consequently,
our clearest insight into affect is achieved by studying the relation
between
the performer and his audience. For the strategy of a piece to
succeed,
the sympathy of the audience must be elicited. In the
performance,
the performer and the item must come together congruently. The
item
must exist and the performer must know how to use it -- each is equally
important if the audience’s interest and sympathy are to be aroused.
It is precisely because we have both an item and a performer
that our
understanding of the nature of the sympathetic experience is
clouded.
On the one hand, the performer performs to achieve some kind of status
within the group, however temporary that achievement may be. The
performance is, therefore, an active part of the social drama,
reflecting
in a small way the ever-present existence of conflict in everyday
life.
On the other band, the item has an existence of its own, since it can
be
re-enacted by any of a number of performers. As such, it
enunciates
artificially a conflict of its own. Agonism is at the core of
dramatic
structure. There is a perceivable relationship between the
conflicting
elements of social existence and the artificially agonistic components
of a work of art. This is made clear in forms like fables or
proverbs,
which one invokes as an “answer” to a social question.
Furthermore,
as many traditional expressions give artificially described interplay
in
terms of observerable social conflict, such art reflects and projects
“reality.”
Hence the analysis of folklore in terms of ethnographic detail.
But
to point out this element of cultural projection explains the
sympathetic
response only in part; it merely emphasizes the self-evident point that
one can sympathize only with a struggle which one can comprehend.
The essence of sympathy seems to reside in the paradox of
culture: that
social [beginning of page 148] cohesion is most fully sensed in
terms of the antagonisms felt within the group. Community is
achieved
through a balance of dissociative as well as associative forces.
Membership is announced and preserved not only through unity and
adherence
to “the law,” but also by culturally approved expressions of egotism
and
hostility. Sympathy, in life as well as art, is essentially a
mediating
force, a recognition of the universality of strife through the ability
to imagine oneself “in the shoes of another.” And folklore as a
sympathetic
activity functions mediationally as an imaginative projection, creating
a world of conflict which for each individual in the group is both a
negation
and an affirmation of community. Each item of traditional
expression
articulates conflict in some way; it also provides some manner of
temporary
resolution. Its very traditional nature promotes community.
It can do this mediating because it is a “play” phenomenon, a
projection
of conflict in an impersonal and harmless milieu.
In this, the performer does more than present his piece --
he stands
in a relationship of creative opposition to his audience, affirming
himself
as well as the world he is recreating by manipulating the response of
the
others. This he does by appearing to control the materials out of
which the piece is fashioned. Insofar as this is an egotistic
expression,
it is an aggressive art from the social point of view, but inasmuch as
it calls upon sympathy as the core of its affect, it reaffirms
community.
Further, its traditional character diverts attention from the
egotistical
essence of the performance. Performance is but one of the many
acceptable
ego-centric activities. But the more this personal aggressiveness
becomes evident in the content of the performance, the more it must be
controlled in some way -- by rules and boundaries, or by the distance
created
between the play world and the real world.
By emphasizing the hostile character of the performer, we
risk losing
sight of the fact that he is permitted this position because the
attitudes
and plans of action which he transmits are those condoned by the
community.
Expressive folklore embodies and reflects recurrent social conflicts,
thus
giving them a “name,” a representative and traditionally recognizable
symbolic
form. To handle the materials of this representation is to reveal
the problem situation in a controlled context. This atmosphere of
control is the primary tool of the rhetoric of a performance, the
control
is “magically” transferred from the item to the recurrent problem when
the performance operates successfully, sympathetically. Because
the
performer projects the conflict and resolves it, the illusion is
created
that it can be solved in real life; and with the addition of sympathy,
of “acting with,” the audience not only derives pleasure from the
activity
but also knowledge.
The controlling power of folklore, the carrying out of its
rhetorical
intent, resides in the ability of the item and the performer to
establish
a sense of identity between a “real” situation and its artificial
embodiment.
This sense of identity is engineered through the exercise of control,
allowing
the audience to relax at the same time it identifies with the projected
situation. This is done by creating a “psychic distance,” by
removing
the audience far enough from the situation that it can see that it is
not
going to actively involve them immediately. Presented with an
anxiety
situation but relieved from the actual anxiety, he listener gains
control,
and with this limited control, relief. This relief becomes
pleasure
when the performance exercises control by the use of wit, by the
imposition
of rules and [beginning of page 149] boundaries, by the
creation
of an imaginary world, or by some other limiting device which proclaims
artifice. Such controls make the problem seem more impersonal and
universal and less immediate. This is the essence of play: the
objectifying
and impersonalizing of anxiety situations, allowing the free expending
of energies without the threat of social consequence. This
removal
process serves rhetoric by clearing the way for the production of
pleasure
and the sympathetic response. Rhetoric in its turn serves society
by promoting accepted attitudes and modes of action.
Expressive folklore not only provides pleasure and catharsis
but also
attempts to guide effectively. This is achieved by allying
sympathy
and strategy with movement. Folklore, in other words, not only
confronts
and projects anxiety-producing situations; it also proposes potential
solutions
and attempts to produce action in accordance with its proposals.
This is especially true in the case of overtly normative forms of
folklore
(like proverbs, hero tales, and fables). In the case of forms
which
embody antisocial motives, folklore projects these into patently
ridiculous
or fantastic worlds and allows for their expression in a harmless
milieu,
guiding action through formulas of avoidance. This we see in
forms
as diverse as trickster tales, riddles, and festival maskings.
Thus,
in both normative and antisocial forms, sympathy arises in an
atmosphere
of control, and control emerges from the fruitful coming together of an
effective performer and a meaningful traditional expression.
The rhetorical approach therefore asks the observer to see
the control
of both the aesthetic object and of the context to witness how the two
interrelate in creating pleasure and proposing action. It demands
a recognition of an intimate sympathetic relation between a proposed
solution
of a recurrent societal problem and the movement involved in the
artistic
projection of the problem. And it suggests that the most feasible
way of seeing this relationship is to understand what the strategy of
the
piece is: of what it wants to convince the hearer, and how it goes
about
convincing. It does this, not at the expense of the play element
of culture, but rather by insisting on the essential utility of the
“playing-out”
on an apparently impersonal level.
III
The rhetorical approach is not like the scientific method, a
set of
procedures to be used in attacking any test situation. It
is rather a point of view which proposes areas in which insights might
be gained by using comparative or relational methodology. To
illustrate
the uses of this approach, I will compare two genres, proverbs and
riddles,
in terms of organizational and persuasive techniques. Similar in
their linguistic organization but differing in their context of
performance,
the difference between the two forms is most easily articulated through
variance in strategy.
Proverbs and riddles are short forms; both use the sentence
as their
linguistic frame. Both use the devices of poetry as the stylistic
basis of their linguistic organization: rhythm, balanced phrasing,
rhyme,
metaphor, and assonance. Both are descriptions whose referents
must
be inferred through aptness of their elements. They differ only
in
that a riddle must supply its referent and a proverb need not, as the
referent
is clear from the context of its usage.
[beginning of page 150] Proverbs are traditional
answers to recurrent
ethical problems; they provide an argument for a course of action which
conforms to community values. They arise in the midst of a
conversation,
and are used by speakers to give a “name” to the ethical problem
confronting
them, and to suggest ways in which it has been solved in the past
(though
the suggestion is not necessarily directed immediately to the ones
confronted
by the problem). The use of a proverb invokes an aura of moral
rightness
in a conversation; the comfort of past community procedure is made
available
to the present and future. Proverbs may be used directly to teach
or to remind and measure those who already know them. The proverb
says at once, “This is the way things are and have been,” and “This is
the way of responding properly to such a situation.” The strategy
of the proverb, in other words, is to direct by appearing to clarify;
this
is engineered by simplifying the problem and resorting to traditional
solutions.
Riddles, on the other hand, do not occur in everyday speech,
but rather
in the midst of a stylized performance, a “riddle session.” The
riddle
is a device used to entertain by formulaically creating
confusion.
Where the proverb persuades by providing answers, the riddle confuses
by
posing enigmatic questions. To promote confusion seems to be to
court
chaos, but the riddle does in fact eventually clarify by providing an
answer
as well as a question. Riddles are fundamentally aggressive in
design
and purpose. In encouraging such aggression, riddles seem to be
extensions
of antisocial motives, as opposed to the apparently normative proverbs
which propose and support group amity.
This is the reason riddles occur only in riddling sessions
with all
the restraints on aggressive conduct that accompany such a
performance.
Proverbs, under most circumstances, need no such rules or
boundaries.
Society, to countenance aggressive behavior, insists that it be enacted
in a harmless milieu or be directed utside the group. Riddles are
just one of the many traditional forms of licensed aggression that,
though
antisocial in tendency, are not antinormative. They take energies
potentially destructive of the community and its values and channel
them
into harmless, indeed psychologically helpful, creative avenues of
expression.
Significantly, many of the techniques by which license for
hostile in-group
behavior is obtained are the same as those used by normative
expressions
to effect guidance of action. This can also be seen through the
comparison
of proverbs and riddles. A proverb works primarily by cloaking a
recommended course of action in the garb of artful expression; it gives
the impression that much thought has at some time been given to the
problem
to which the proverb is presently addressed. Wit serves wisdom in
this way -- as a device of control. But in riddles, wit promotes
perplexity in the service of aggressive motives. Aggression is
permitted
only under restricted circumstances, and the formal unity provided by
wit
in riddles serves as one of the restricting elements; under the guise
of
wit, all sorts of subjects and motives can be exercised which are
otherwise
forbidden.
One of the principal distinctions between the proverb and
the riddle
is in the context of their use. A riddle reported by one of my
students
from East Texas states: “The people of Holland make what the children
of
England break.” The answer is “toys.” In the context of a
riddle
session, this is indeed an enigmatic description (especially to a
Texan,
one would imagine!). But it is easy to see how this little rhyme
was used at some time as a moral comment on English children -- [beginning
of page 151] used, in other words, as a proverb directed toward
overprivileged
and careless young ones in a context in which the referent would be
understood
immediately. Proverbs exist in a conversational context in which
there must be a clear relation between description and referent;
otherwise
the strategy of the proverb fails. Riddles, on the other hand,
are
found in the permissive atmosphere of the riddle session, in which the
relation between described traits and referent must be blurred to carry
out the intent of the riddler.
There is something inherent in the construction of the
riddle or the
proverb that, in conjunction with its context and its voicing, embodies
strategy. That is, there is something intrinsically clarifying
and
edifying in the construction of proverbs; and there is an inherent
confusing
quality to riddles apart from their presence in a riddle session.
Both are economical and witty descriptions, but they differ in the way
they cohere. Both have two or more elements or traits in their
descriptions,
but the elements stand in different relationships to each other in
proverbs
and in riddles.
In a proverb, the elements of the description have an
inevitable and
organic relationship; they make sense together, and they cohere in an
active
way. To put it another way, the combination of elements of
description
sets up an image or idea in an immediately meaningful and dynamic Gestalt.
The clarity of this pattern, in combination with the felicity of
phrasing
of the proverb, provides a tone of appropriateness and moral weight
enabling
it to function as a guide for future action. Technical
organization
of materials extends beyond sound and rhythm to sense, and provides the
needed feeling of order; this in turn promotes sympathy and encourages
future action in accord with the dictates of the proverb. But
sympathy
and action also are induced by the dynamic relation between the
elements
of the description. Repeatedly, proverbs tie together the
elements
of their descriptions through active verbs, relating them causally or
equationally,
and it is this activity which promotes the sympathetic response.
(The rolling stone, for instance, gets its force from “gathering” even
when it gathers nothing.)
The riddle, on the other hand, brings together its elements
in such
a way that Gestalt is impaired before the referent is voiced. The
relationship of the descriptive elements is necessarily confused,
causing
one of four Gestalt impairments to occur:
1. A contradiction is set up between the traits,
generally some
sort of opposition between them. (What has eyes but cannot see?
--
a potato. What goes up the chimney down but cannot go down the
chimney
up? -- an umbrella.)
2. Not enough information is given in the description
to provide
a complete Gestalt and allow the recognition of the
referent.
(What is white, then green, then red? -- a berry growing.)
3. Too much inconsequential or misleading evidence is
provided,
causing a “scramble” effect. (As I was crossing London Bridge, I
met a man who tipped his hat and drew his cane, and now Igaveyou his
name.
What is it? -- Andrew Cane.)
4. A false Gestalt is created; the traits seem to
combine meaningfully
with the description as given, but the apparent referent is not the
same
as the true referent. This usually leads to a “catch” situation
in
which a wrong answer, often obscene, is [beginning of page 152]
given by the answerer. The effect is very like that of the trick
picture that can be read in two ways. (What goes in hard and
smooth
and comes out soft and gooey? -- a piece of chewing gum.)
The riddle is, when successful, a description whose referent
cannot
be guessed; a proverb is one whose referent can be guessed. The
answer
must be supplied in the riddle to bring about Gestalt and it is
in the triumph of the parts coming together in a meaningful pattern
that
the contest-strategy of the riddle is most dearly seen. The
proverb
enunciates a recurrent conflict (a social problem) and proposes a
resolution.
The riddle works more artificially; it establishes a little internal
conflict
of its own in its combination of descriptive elements, and then
provides
its own solution when its referent is voiced.
IV
These similarities and differences in proverbs and riddles
are the result
of social forces achieving expressive form. The normative nature
of the proverb and the aggressive and licentious character of the
riddle
are not the only attributes of these forms as rhetorical entities;
however,
they are the ones which are usually dominant. But for purposes of
clarity it must be noted that proverbs are also to some extent
aggressive
in purpose; the speaker is, after all, attempting to impose his ideas
and
his will upon his audience. Conversely, a riddle has a kind of
clarifying
effect when the riddle and its referent-answer are considered as a
unit.
In certain situations, in fact, these secondary or recessive
characteristics
may take precedence, and proverbs may be used, like riddles, for
aggressive
purposes. Significantly, when proverbs are so used they become
part
of a proverb “session” or contest with appropriate rules. This is
true, for instance, among the Anang, as reported by John Messenger.
(7)
In this West African group, proverbs serve as a device of argument in
the
judicial system; their use and misuse can profoundly affect a legal
case,
much as precedents are used in courts of common law. An even more
extreme example of such proceedings is reported among the Mataco Chaco
of Argentina (8), who devote their entire adjudication system to a
trading
of proverbs between the opposing parties. Such proceedings
emphasize
the paradoxical, enigmatic nature of the contested occurrence; the
parties
seek to daze each other with traditional expressions in attempting to
gain
the upper hand.
Similarly, riddles can be used for normative purposes.
A riddle,
when it is known to all in the audience, is still proposed in riddle
sessions,
not because anyone will be confused but precisely because everyone
knows
the answer and all can demonstrate their knowledge
together.
The pleasure in the performance arises only out of the mimesis of
conflict,
not out of any real agonistic interplay. In its recitation there
is a demonstration of group knowledge and cohesiveness. When
riddles
are regarded as part of traditional group knowledge and are therefore
items
to be learned by initiates, the recitation of the riddle with its
answer
is a traditional demonstration of group solidarity. In such a
situation
the riddles function as catechism, and thus exist primarily to clarify
and edify, a rhetorical intent not very different from that usually
employed
by proverbs. However, such usages are exceptional, and in most
groups
the dominant strategy of proverbs is to clarify and instruct, and of
riddles
it is to confuse and entertain.
[beginning of page 153]
V
This distinction between proverb and riddle, useful in
discerning genre,
can also cast light on the function of these forms in specific cultural
situations. We can say with assurance that in most cases when
riddles
are invoked in a group, those who use them are trying to assert power
by
inducing confusion. And when proverbs are employed, someone is
attempting
to control by appearing to clarify a problem situation and to propose a
future approach to the problem. Both are used in an interpersonal
situation as a means of establishing status through the exercise of
wit.
It is obvious that in the uses of both genres there are important
conventional
differences from one culture to the next. If one considers all
levels
of structure simultaneously and interrelates these levels through
rhetorical
strategy, one can gain important insight into the habits of
organization
and expression of specific groups, while more fully understanding the
range
to which individual genres can be put to use. Three distinct
groups
provide three distinct uses of riddles: urban American sub-cultures,
the
Bantu Venda, and communities in the British West Indies.
Descriptive riddles (such as “true riddles”) are seldom
found in the
repertory of riddlers in urban groups of whites in the United
States.
When riddling descriptions do occur, confusion commonly turns on the
use
of a pun or some other ambiguous word usage. Joking technique
prevails
over other expressions of wit. In the most common forms of
enigmatic
questions in such groups -- the joking question, the conundrum type of
enigma -- the question simply serves as a “set-up” for the punch-line
answer.
The recent elephant, grape, and Polack joke-riddles, as well as those
formulaic
questions popular among children -- the “What is the difference
between...”
or the “What did the _____ say to the _____?”-type rely on puns or word
play. The most widespread joke cycles of the last thirty years
have,
in fact, resorted to joke-riddle form, from the moron jokes of the
pre-World
War II era to the present. In this cultural milieu, riddles
function
not in the riddling session alone, but in the equally restricted
joke-telling
session. The fact that riddles here are functional equivalents of
jokes is significant, for it says something not only about the use of
riddles
in white urban America, but also about the emphasis on brevity and word
play and wit-contest in these oral entettunments.
Essentially, this joking activity is peripheral to our major
cultural
concerns. Though riddling among children does, in a real sense,
train
the young for adult joking, the adult activity is looked upon as
unessential
by society in general and even by the erformers themselves. This
aggressive verbal activity is regarded as of little importance because
it exists in a culture in which words tend to be mistrusted or
denigrated.
Hence such proverbs as “One picture is worth a thousand words” and
“Judge
a man by his actions, not his words.” The devaluing of words, in
fact, may be the primary reason for the reliance on shorter forms of
expression,
of which the riddling joke-cycle is only one representative.
One may compare this peripheral use of riddles to the
practice in cultures
which place higher value on words and word-usage; in such groups
riddling
is an activity closer to the central concerns of the group and
encountered
more often as part of important social occasions. Such is the
case
among the Venda of the Northern Transvaal in South Africa, as reported
by John Blacking:
[beginning of page 154]
...Venda riddles are used in the course of a
competitive game
for young people. They are educational chiefly because they may
be
an asset to fuller participation in Venda social life; they are
not
important as exercises of intellectual skill, and their contents do not
appear to instruct or stimulate the imaginations of those who know
them.
Both riddle and answer were learned as a linguistic whole, and it is
more
important to know the riddle than to be able to puzzle out the answer
or
understand its content. Amongst the Venda, knowledge of formal
language
is in a sense equivalent to magical power; the individual increases his
status by joining social groups, the memberships of which are assured
by
his knowledge of certain word-formulae. The form of riddles
resembles
that of milayo formulae, which must be known by anyone who claims that
he has been to certain initiation schools. Knowledge of riddles
helps
a Venda child to establish his identity as an individual and as a
member
of a junior social group, when he distinguishes himself during a
riddle-contests.
(9)
Blacking emphasizes the importance of words, and the fact that riddles
help the child learn the exercise of wit to achieve status and to
prepare
him for an adult activity which will further this aim. He thus
underscores
the use of this verbal aggressive behavior in terms of ego growth and
the
achievement of identity in a group in which the range of such
individual
expressions are few. He is, in terms of rhetorical analysis,
emphasizing
a special use of confusion-strategy in its contextual structure.
He does not particularize the context by reporting an individual
riddling
session, only types of contests. He notes that there are two ways
in which riddling may proceed: 1) “A asks B riddles, which B answers
successfully.
Eventually B is stumped, but A does not give him the answer... B
must then ask A riddles until A too is stumped, and A then reveals the
answer to the original...” 2) “A asks B a fiddle. B does
not
answer it; instead he ‘buys’ A’s answer by posing another riddle.
A answers his own first riddle and then ‘buys’ an answer to B's riddle
by posing another... B then answers his own first and ‘buys’...”
and so on.” (10) The most important element of this discussion is
that Blacking goes on to discuss the relative importance of the two
games,
not just in terms of frequency but also in terms of ways in which they
reveal the values of the community:
In both games, the honors go to those who pose the
problem
rather than to those who solve it. Many prefer the second game as
it is “easier to play“ and “lasts longer”; a team can maintain its
supply
of riddles longer, instead of having it decimated in one blow by
opponents
who either know all the answers or ask the best riddles first.
Moreover,
in the second game a player can escape the penalties of not being able
to answer a riddle by “buying” the answer with a riddle that he knows;
this again stresses the importance of knowing the riddle as a
linguistic
whole rather than being able to puzzle it out by intellectual
reasoning.
In the second game a player avoids loss of face and has the
satisfaction
of compensating for his deficiency by striking a bargain; this might be
called a more typically Venda pattern of behavior than the fiercer,
ruthless
competition between two individuals, whilst the others sit back and
listen.
The second game also reflects the Venda love of elaborating social
activity
with rituals that both lengthen the proceeding, and hence the enjoyment
of the occasion, and also endure a balance of power and orderly
behavior
between parties that are in opposition. (11)
By considering the riddle as an expressive and fundional object
in a dynamic context, Blacking is able to tell us much about the Venda,
not only about their riddling or even verbal behavior, but about their
larger patterns of attitudes and institutions.
A similar attitude toward words as a source of power exists
in many
peasant communities in the British West Indies. And in these
groups,
riddling is also a common technique by which virtuosity in words is
acquired
by any member of the community. But the place, manner, and
patterns
of performance are very different from the Venda.
[beginning of page 155] Riddling is a common activity
in the
British West Indies, and that in itself is of importance in analyzing
the
behavior patterns of peasant culture in this area. (12) This
significance
becomes understandable when note is taken of the central role of the
man-of-words
in West Indian life, not only in regard to traditional entertaintments
but also in terms of institutional life, especally in government and
economics.
As opposed to urban United States, more value is placed on working of
the
voice than of the hands. Traditional symbolic gestures, for
instance,
are seldom encountered in the West Indies, while equivalent verbal
forms
are abundant. Riddles, being available to nearly anyone in these
peasant communifies, serve as a minimal way of developing and
demonstrating
power with words. Furthermore, the man-of-words functions most
effectively
(in fact, nearly exclusively) in a contest situation, and riddling
serves
virtually as the model for such activity.
Though riddling may occur at any social event, especially
the spontaneous
activities on moonlit nights, for purposes of analysis I want to center
on this activity during dead-wake ceremonies, in order to suggest some
paths the rhetorical approach might take the investigator that he might
not travel otherwise. I will focus briefly on some
characteristics
of texture and content of West Indian riddles, and then attempt to
suggest
ways in which they might be related to some aspects of the structure of
context through an elaboration of the strategy of confusion.
The most noticeable textural characteristic of West Indian
riddles is
their outlandishness; though they are in English they seem almost
totally
foreign to any other riddling tradition in that tongue. Though
the
tradition is primarily made up of true riddles, the subjects of the
descriptions
are quite different from those in the mainstream of English
riddling.
The techniques of description also show a different emphasis.
West
Indian riddles tend to dramatize and personalize, to tell vignette
storiees
in first person or familistic terms.
I went to town, my face turn to town;
I came from town, my face turn to town.
-- climbing a coconut
tree.
Such observations are important in relation to other traditional
expressions, for the West Indian commonly finds it important to become
dramatically involved in all events in their lives (that is, break down
the distinction between life and art). They naturally dramatize
the
undramatic and personalize the potentially impersonal. This
element
of the riddle is further emphasized in the telling, for each riddle
becomes
an extension of the ego of the riddler and in order to insist upon this
identification he will dramatize its presentation as much as
possible.
There are riddlers, for instance, who go out of the house during the
session
not only to think up new enigmas but also to time their re-entrance so
they can deliver their invention from the darkness of the door,
eliciting
a laugh as attention is gained. A really clever riddle
well-delivered
will draw applause and appreciative murmuring that can last for
minutes.
The major question about these sessions in an analysis of
group values
is why riddling occurs during wakes. Every activity at the death
of an individual is calculated to involve as many people as
possible.
These activities pull the group together in the face of death.
(The
digging of a grave, for instance, often involves fifty or sixty men who
dig to pay respect to the dead.) Riddling, with storytelling, [beginning
of page 156] singing, dancing, and game-playing are the West Indian
activities that involve the whole group as performers or observers, and
all of these occur at some time during the memorial celebration.
Each of these traditional activities emphasizes a sense of removal and
of stoppage of time, and the invocation of a spirit of license which
aids
in bringing the group through a time of crisis. And there is
crisis,
for death is imagined as a malevolent force which can strike
anyone.
(This feeling is generally rationalized in Christian terms but the
attitude
toward the dead is in essence a retention of ancestor-worship.)
This
license permits performances which demonstrate the life-principle in
the
most primal ways, perhaps most notably in the erotic motives which are
enacted in the midst of these gatherings. Songs, games, and
stories
repeatedly focus on sex organs and sex acts, subjects seldom discussed
on other occasions; this eroticism is observable in riddling as
well.
For instance, one of the most common West Indian riddles is:
Poppy take longy-longy, push it in a mommy
hairy-hairy.
-- making a broom.
But one subject arises over and over again in riddling sessions
that seems even more important in the wake context: the living emerging
from the dead, or the living carrying over the dead. (There is,
for
instance, a notable riddle describing the living pallbearers carrying
the
dead in the coffin to the graveyard and then coming back to the
village.)
This theme was made all the more dramatic when a woman died while we
were
collecting in Tobago. She made a request that the Bongo
(wake)
be held in a certain way so that she could be there celebrating with
everyone;
she had so enjoyed Bongos in life and this would make death a
little
easier. (She was afraid the wake wouldn’t be held because she
died
during Lent.)
Here is a vivid (and perhaps melodramatic) example of the
possible relationships
between texture and context. But there is a further dimension
which
needs to be examined, in light of the period of license and the
“carrying
over” aspect of stopping time for performance. How can such an
aggressive
phenomenon as riddling contribute to the establishment of a sense of
well-being
and continuity in the troubled group? Part of an answer lies in
the
nature of riddling as a group observance in which time is stopped and
troubling
phenomenon are depersonalized and “played out” in the removed riddle
play
world. But one could also point out that riddling, in a very real
sense, atomizes the death problem (as a “life riddle”); by providing
solutions
which emphasize the triumph of life, riddling uses devices of confusion
to create an atmosphere of clarification. Perhaps in this wake
situation,
riddles when given with their solutions suggest sympathetically that
the
larger riddle also has a solution.
A number of other remarks could be made about the structure
and function
of West Indian riddles and riddling, but the intent here has been to
point
out what can be said about the culture and the aesthetic patterns of
any
community by considering structure and rhetoric. In all three
groups
discussed, riddles are equally formulaic, competitive, confusing, and
witty,
but they fit into the life of the group and disclose its values and
expressive
habits in widely varying ways. Stylistic analysis has been placed
in a rhetorical framework and permitted insights into culture that
could
not otherwise have been realized. Investigators such as Blacking
have [beginning of page 157] been groping toward something like
this intuitively. But, without a theoretical framework, they have
not been able to realize the potential of cultural insight inherent in
the analysis of traditional performance.
Clearly if we are going to relate folklore to the dynamics
of culture
we need to develop a methodology which will focus on the movement of
items
as constructed and performed, as used by people in a living
situation.
We must ask ourselves what values and attitudes reside in specific
groups,
and how these find expression. One way of doing this is to see
items
of lore as functional objects and to delve into the relationship of
form
and attitude and performance.
Too long have the anthropologists and psychologists seen
folklore as
data which merely project ethnographic or psychosocial detail.
Too
long have folklorists emphasized the internal attributes of folklore as
aesthetic constructs without a consideration of how the lore reflects
the
group in which it exists, persists, and functions. Too long have
all investigators been willing to divorce folklore from the people who
perform it, or to regard it as peripheral -- and therefore meaningless
-- or debased. Most folklore studies in the past have been used
more
to justfy our vision of ourselves as advanced human beings than to cast
light on the life of others.
Folklore, like any other discipline, has no justification
except as
it enables us to better understand ourselves and others. To label
traditional phenomena as “quaint” is to fail in this burden. To
objectify
for the purpose of analysis without making an attempt to put together
again
also must fail. The only way in which phenomena of this sort can
be comprehended and used as a tool for greater understanding is to
approach
them from an involvement-centered point of view. Structure and
content
analysis can be important techniques, but only when brought together
with
a performance-oriented approach. Together they will lead to the
kind
of cultural insights which forecast a growth of understanding.
(13)
Notes
1. James Strachey (trans.), (New York, 1960).
2. Kenneth Burke, The Philosophy of Literary Form
(Vintage
reprint edition, New York, 1961), 3.
3. The most important works on structure are
conveniently and
cogently discussed by Butter Waugh, “Structural Analysis in Literature
and Folklore,” Western Folklore 35 (1966), 153-4.
4. Alan Dundes, “Texture, Text and Context,” Southern
Folklore
Quarterly 28 (1964), 251-65.
5. Linda Degh, “Some Questions of the Social Function
of Storytelling,”
Acta
Ethnographica 6 (1957), 91-143; Marchen, Erzahler und
Erzablegemeinschaft
(Berlin, 1962); Daniel C. Crowley, I Could Tell Old Story Good
(Berkeley
and Los Angeles, 1966); Ruth Finnegan, Limba Stories and
Story-Telling
(Oxford, 1967).
6. William Bascom, “Four Functions of Folklore,” Journal
of
American Folklore 67 (1954), 349
7. “The Role of Proverbs in a Nigerian Judicial System,” Southwestern
Journal of Anthropology 15 (1959), 64-73.
8. From personal communication, Dr. Niels Fock,
University of
Copenhagen.
9. John Blacking, “The Social Value of Venda Riddles,”
African
Studies 20 (1961), 1.
10. Blacking, 3.
11. Blacking, 3.
[beginning of page 158]
12. For a more detailed description of the
man-of-words in the
British West India, see my “The Shaping of Folklore Tradition in
British
West Indies,” Journal of Inter-American Studies 9 (1967),
456-80.
13. I am indebted, in the formulation of these ideas,
to my colleagues
Joseph Moldenhauer, Joseph Malof, and Americo Paredes, and to Ed
Cray.
Through discussion and critical readings of earlier drafts they have
been
most helpful. The first draft of this essay was written while on
a year of independent research sponsored by the John Simon Guggenheim
Foundation
and The University of Texas Research Institute.
The University of Texas
Austin, Texas