(Myth)
It might be fair to say that Wendy Doinger’s The Implied Spider is a survey in mythological methodology. Doniger asserts that the cross-cultural comparison of myths is “pragmatically possible, intellectually plausible, and politically productive” (4-5). However, this comparison comes with a caveat that I find most problematic – Doniger proposes to do all this mythological comparison sans methodological structure!
Undoubtedly, comparative work has merit. However, Doniger does not convince me of her astructural approach to comparison.
Perhaps my current studies in the issues of ethnographic method have made me partial to the structural approach, but I find that studies with no structure are messier, by far, than the inevitable outliers found in a structured comparison. In The Implied Spider, Doniger maintains that the best theory is unobtrusive. She argues that, like the rocks in an Irish stone wall, if a researcher “selects her texts carefully and places them in a sequence that tells the story she want to tell, she will need relatively little theory to explain why they belong together and what sort of argument they imply” (60).
This bottom-up method of careful (albeit random) selection is arbitrary. If a scholar is “arranging” the blocks to tell the story that he or she wants to tell, then isn’t the author’s authority and position questionable? Furthermore, this random selection provides a very busy palate from which the author is forced to pick a random pattern. Wouldn’t having some idea of what one is looking for provide some sort of direction (structure!) in which to focus – rather than a multi-focal smorgasbord of data that may or may not make sense at the end of the presentation?
The possibility of comparison between cross-cultural myths arises from, what Doniger argues, is the commonality of concerns from different cultures. “When we say that two myths from two different cultures are ‘the same’ we mean that there are certain plots that come up again and again, revealing a set of human concerns that transcend any cultural barriers, experiences that we might call cross-cultural or transcultural” (53). Doniger goes on to create a list of this ‘common human experience’ – sex, food, singing, dancing, sunrise and sunset, et cetera (53-54).
These shared experiences are the ‘spider’ that Doniger refers to in the building of myths (webs). The idea that no one subjective experience – i.e. Ali eating olives in Istanbul on March 13, 1976 while the sun was setting and the mosque prayers were ringing out in the street – can be accessed, is what makes these ‘spiders’ (experiences) implied. “I argue that we must believe in the existence of the spider, the experience behind the myth, though it is indeed true that we can never see this sort of spider at work; we can only find the webs, the myths that human authors weave” (61).
Not only does the spider metaphor come from a variety of sources, but also the lack of implication in use of the spider was very confusing to me! For instance, Doniger draws on such varied sources as Geertz and Obeyesekere, the Upanishads of the Hindu tradition, Kierkegaard, Shakespeare, linguists, and Jewish mythology. Doniger highlights this scattered sense of myth-collection, herself, when she says: “The spider is used as a metaphor for blind faith in the future. But we can use it as a metaphor for blind faith in the existence of spiders – or authors, or shared human experience, or the text” (63). This question of one’s faith in the text being shaken simply because the identity of the author cannot be ascertained, is one that was discussed extensively in class a few weeks ago. I believe that the general consensus was, that while authorial presence is important, there are certain instances in which the web matters more than the spider itself. I believe I’ve mentioned the Ramayana here before, but it bears repetition. While scholarship is consumed with figuring out whether or not the great seer Valmiki wrote the Ramayana, I am forced to question whether the mythological epic loses its potency simply because its authorial origin is unknown. Are the myths of good versus evil contained within the epic redundant merely because the spider is implied?
Doniger however, insists that an analysis of the pan-cultural meaning of a myth and its subjective application must include an appreciation for the historical contexts in which that myth is articulated. “Attention to cultural specificity is part of the Hippocratic oath of historians of religions, including mythologists” (43).
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
5. Género
(Gender)
Elizabeth Clark writes that “‘[w]omen’s studies in religion,’ […] has appropriated the social history model, while ‘gender studies in religion’ has begun to adopt the hermeneutic paradigm” (Clark, 217). Ultimately, however, she holds that it is important to keep both models working together in order to produce an enriched picture in the historical study of religion.
Clark goes on to question the contextualization of women’s religious histories. One benefit that she sees of contextualizing this history is that it reveals ways in which women managed to overcome the confines of patriarchy in its various historical manifestations (Clark, 221). She states “attention to ‘real women’ has stimulated discussion of periodization” (Clark, 222). What this serves to do is locate women’s position within their contextual realm of time, place, culture and society. This contextualization is important in order to stave away from generalizing all males from all times and places, as patriarchal misogynistic, victimizers of women! Hence, Clark asserts that attention to women has enhances religious studies by suggesting new ways to think about agency and periodization (Clark, 223-24).
Another point that Clark puts forth is that the category of ‘woman’ allows for a much wider scope for discussion as opposed to the category of ‘gender’ (Clark, 233). This distinction between ‘sex’ and ‘gender’ is addressed by Daniel Boyarin, who states that when we study gender, we are investigating the processes by which people are interpolated into a two-sex system that is made to seem as if it were nature – something has always existed (Boyarin, 117). Similarly, Clark issues that sex is considered the ‘raw material’ from which ‘gender’ is produced (Clark, 233). Most interesting is the statement in the Clark article that puts forth a definition for the ‘sex-gender system’ – it is defined as “the system of social relations that transformed biological sexuality into products of human activity and in which the resulting historically specific sexual needs are met” (Clark, 234).
This notion of the ‘normal’ is problematic because it removes onus from cultural conditioning and places blame for misogyny primarily on a natural phenomenon. Amy Hollywood, in her response to the Clark article, suggests that one way in which to overcome this problem of phenomenology is to as what roles these prescribed scripts play, or played, on the women upon whom they’re being imposed. That is, what effect did this naturalization of gender have on the worlds in which they were created? Hollywood asks if this naturalization was simply a dead metaphor or whether it was social and legally regulated in a normative manner (Hollywood, 249). Is this our question, as scholars, to ask however? Isn’t this simply going back to the discussion on context that arose in class last week? Is it within our power to ask these contextual questions or are merely running around in circles, chasing our tails? Perhaps, chasing our tales!?!
What intrigued me immensely was the emphasis on the ‘empirical’ that appeared in all the articles that were assigned this week. There seems to be a push from the feminist theorists to study women’s religious issues from as empirical a standpoint as that from which [men’s] religious issues have been studied in the past. It is interesting to note the empirical-hermeneutical dichotomy and how it manifests itself repeatedly along the gender-sex and male-female divides. Katherine Young addresses this transition from “normative underpinnings to the empirical study of world religions […] in comparative and historical frames” (Young, 17). She holds that this shift can often lead to a phenomenological stance from which to study feminist religion. While this may provide some solace from the hermeneutical study of the feminine in religions, it also comes with its own slew of problems. For instance, generalizing the ‘other’ in a classic case of insider- versus outsider-bias. Often, phenomenology leads men to be stereotyped meta-historical victimizers, misogynists, patriarchs, and controllers of the women ‘under’ them! Young questions whether both, phenomenologist and feminists, have something to unlearn about generalizations (Young, 33). This reminds me greatly of the paradox of teaching a first year World Religions course – are generalization, insider-unity, and stereotyping, a necessary evil of giving the study of women within religious history a fair shot?
David Kinsley argues that women’s studies poses certain problems for studying the history of religion because of the way in which it pits males against females in a starkly dichotomous manner. To this end, Kinsley states that “[c]ategorizing males as oppressors and women as victims can also lead to objectifying women as a category and blinding the historian of religions to women’s own voices, keeping him or her from hearing women as subjects” (Kinsley, 12), and hearing them rather, as victims, I might add! Rather, Kinsley proposes that scholars employ the hermeneutics of suspicion when studying women within a historically religious context. This lens questions the origin of the viewpoint, and seeks to look beyond the androcentric biases that may tinge historical work. In this way, women’s own voices will be discovered (Kinsley, 10).
This week’s readings were of particular interest to me considering my field of research. It was fascinating to read about the background of studying gender in the field of religious studies – it is a rich and often tumultuous background that I did not have much prior knowledge of.
Elizabeth Clark writes that “‘[w]omen’s studies in religion,’ […] has appropriated the social history model, while ‘gender studies in religion’ has begun to adopt the hermeneutic paradigm” (Clark, 217). Ultimately, however, she holds that it is important to keep both models working together in order to produce an enriched picture in the historical study of religion.
Clark goes on to question the contextualization of women’s religious histories. One benefit that she sees of contextualizing this history is that it reveals ways in which women managed to overcome the confines of patriarchy in its various historical manifestations (Clark, 221). She states “attention to ‘real women’ has stimulated discussion of periodization” (Clark, 222). What this serves to do is locate women’s position within their contextual realm of time, place, culture and society. This contextualization is important in order to stave away from generalizing all males from all times and places, as patriarchal misogynistic, victimizers of women! Hence, Clark asserts that attention to women has enhances religious studies by suggesting new ways to think about agency and periodization (Clark, 223-24).
Another point that Clark puts forth is that the category of ‘woman’ allows for a much wider scope for discussion as opposed to the category of ‘gender’ (Clark, 233). This distinction between ‘sex’ and ‘gender’ is addressed by Daniel Boyarin, who states that when we study gender, we are investigating the processes by which people are interpolated into a two-sex system that is made to seem as if it were nature – something has always existed (Boyarin, 117). Similarly, Clark issues that sex is considered the ‘raw material’ from which ‘gender’ is produced (Clark, 233). Most interesting is the statement in the Clark article that puts forth a definition for the ‘sex-gender system’ – it is defined as “the system of social relations that transformed biological sexuality into products of human activity and in which the resulting historically specific sexual needs are met” (Clark, 234).
This notion of the ‘normal’ is problematic because it removes onus from cultural conditioning and places blame for misogyny primarily on a natural phenomenon. Amy Hollywood, in her response to the Clark article, suggests that one way in which to overcome this problem of phenomenology is to as what roles these prescribed scripts play, or played, on the women upon whom they’re being imposed. That is, what effect did this naturalization of gender have on the worlds in which they were created? Hollywood asks if this naturalization was simply a dead metaphor or whether it was social and legally regulated in a normative manner (Hollywood, 249). Is this our question, as scholars, to ask however? Isn’t this simply going back to the discussion on context that arose in class last week? Is it within our power to ask these contextual questions or are merely running around in circles, chasing our tails? Perhaps, chasing our tales!?!
What intrigued me immensely was the emphasis on the ‘empirical’ that appeared in all the articles that were assigned this week. There seems to be a push from the feminist theorists to study women’s religious issues from as empirical a standpoint as that from which [men’s] religious issues have been studied in the past. It is interesting to note the empirical-hermeneutical dichotomy and how it manifests itself repeatedly along the gender-sex and male-female divides. Katherine Young addresses this transition from “normative underpinnings to the empirical study of world religions […] in comparative and historical frames” (Young, 17). She holds that this shift can often lead to a phenomenological stance from which to study feminist religion. While this may provide some solace from the hermeneutical study of the feminine in religions, it also comes with its own slew of problems. For instance, generalizing the ‘other’ in a classic case of insider- versus outsider-bias. Often, phenomenology leads men to be stereotyped meta-historical victimizers, misogynists, patriarchs, and controllers of the women ‘under’ them! Young questions whether both, phenomenologist and feminists, have something to unlearn about generalizations (Young, 33). This reminds me greatly of the paradox of teaching a first year World Religions course – are generalization, insider-unity, and stereotyping, a necessary evil of giving the study of women within religious history a fair shot?
David Kinsley argues that women’s studies poses certain problems for studying the history of religion because of the way in which it pits males against females in a starkly dichotomous manner. To this end, Kinsley states that “[c]ategorizing males as oppressors and women as victims can also lead to objectifying women as a category and blinding the historian of religions to women’s own voices, keeping him or her from hearing women as subjects” (Kinsley, 12), and hearing them rather, as victims, I might add! Rather, Kinsley proposes that scholars employ the hermeneutics of suspicion when studying women within a historically religious context. This lens questions the origin of the viewpoint, and seeks to look beyond the androcentric biases that may tinge historical work. In this way, women’s own voices will be discovered (Kinsley, 10).
This week’s readings were of particular interest to me considering my field of research. It was fascinating to read about the background of studying gender in the field of religious studies – it is a rich and often tumultuous background that I did not have much prior knowledge of.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
4. Texto, Escribiendo
(Text, Writing)
In the opening pages of Chapter 7 in History, Theory, Text, Elizabeth Clark makes the assertion that texts become contexted through other texts of their generation. Specifically, she cites that scholars studying ancient material rely on such contextual sources to superimpose meaning upon a text itself (131-132). This broadening of structuralism in an effort to contextualize seems to be a function of studying the past; whereas, one could assert that when studying modernity, scholars are narrower in their focus - their structuralism becoming more confining rather than contextual. That is to say, a text of modernity is contextualized in itself, while a text of age is situated within a broader spectrum of texts that surround it.
On the question of authorship, Clark cites Foucault in questioning whether or not "authorship" necessarily equates "authority" (134). Separating the text from its author, as Foucault is wont to do, is problematic in my opinion because the author is a definite context through which the text has been situated. For instance, the Ramayana - an ancient Indian epic - is often attributed to Valmiki. While this cannot be wholly ascertained, this attribution is in part to answer the question of authorship that our time in history, at least, seems to crave an answer to! Foucault is quick to point out that in ancient times, great works of epic proportion were fine without an authorial context; I add that while that may have been so to a certain extent, our own contextual time of scientific leaning and 'proof' has warranted us the urge to question authorship. For, how can one assume - as a reader - complete onus for the context of a text? Isn't its original context - a major part of which is its author - pertinent in situating it within our body of understanding? Later in the chapter, Clark sources Mark Bevin in highlighting the divide between what is said and what is meant (141). Intentionality versus interpretation, I suppose!
Even before I got to the part on Interpretive Anthropology, I was going to refer to my Issues in Ethnography class and the similar issues that arise in it, week after week, regarding contextuality and the onus on the reader. When I got to the section on Geertz, I had a wee chuckle at the synchronicity of it all! Geertz is right in putting forth that fields like Anthropology cannot rely wholly on the rigid criterion of the natural sciences (145). By the 1960s in which Geertz was writing, the social sciences had come a long way since the early 20th century in which Bronislaw Malinowski worked with the Trobriand Islanders. In his trilogy on the Trobriand Islands, Malinowski was so fixated on following scientific methodology that he failed to situate the culture in its historical context – failing to mention the effects of colonization, war, foreign trade, and cultural degeneration on the culture! Malinowski felt that by inserting history into his ‘scientific’ work, he was providing too much extenuating material, which might then act to dilute the reader’s view of the ‘real’ culture at hand! Once again, from a structuralist perspective, this seems relatively unproblematic – a prescribed schema is used as a lens through which to view the subject, while all outliers are either manipulated to fit or ignored as irrelevant! Perhaps the best quote of this chapter is found on page 149: “An exuberant critique of interpretive anthropology is offered by literary theorist David Chioni Moore, who urges anthropology to “cut its (pure-)theory angst…and learn to love, at least in theory, interpretations.”
In the same way that anthropologist deal with the problem of being overly scientific, so too those who study religion struggle between being too contextual and being overly interpretive. I think we have an equal responsibility to interpret the text while still situating it within the context in which it was written.
In the opening pages of Chapter 7 in History, Theory, Text, Elizabeth Clark makes the assertion that texts become contexted through other texts of their generation. Specifically, she cites that scholars studying ancient material rely on such contextual sources to superimpose meaning upon a text itself (131-132). This broadening of structuralism in an effort to contextualize seems to be a function of studying the past; whereas, one could assert that when studying modernity, scholars are narrower in their focus - their structuralism becoming more confining rather than contextual. That is to say, a text of modernity is contextualized in itself, while a text of age is situated within a broader spectrum of texts that surround it.
On the question of authorship, Clark cites Foucault in questioning whether or not "authorship" necessarily equates "authority" (134). Separating the text from its author, as Foucault is wont to do, is problematic in my opinion because the author is a definite context through which the text has been situated. For instance, the Ramayana - an ancient Indian epic - is often attributed to Valmiki. While this cannot be wholly ascertained, this attribution is in part to answer the question of authorship that our time in history, at least, seems to crave an answer to! Foucault is quick to point out that in ancient times, great works of epic proportion were fine without an authorial context; I add that while that may have been so to a certain extent, our own contextual time of scientific leaning and 'proof' has warranted us the urge to question authorship. For, how can one assume - as a reader - complete onus for the context of a text? Isn't its original context - a major part of which is its author - pertinent in situating it within our body of understanding? Later in the chapter, Clark sources Mark Bevin in highlighting the divide between what is said and what is meant (141). Intentionality versus interpretation, I suppose!
Even before I got to the part on Interpretive Anthropology, I was going to refer to my Issues in Ethnography class and the similar issues that arise in it, week after week, regarding contextuality and the onus on the reader. When I got to the section on Geertz, I had a wee chuckle at the synchronicity of it all! Geertz is right in putting forth that fields like Anthropology cannot rely wholly on the rigid criterion of the natural sciences (145). By the 1960s in which Geertz was writing, the social sciences had come a long way since the early 20th century in which Bronislaw Malinowski worked with the Trobriand Islanders. In his trilogy on the Trobriand Islands, Malinowski was so fixated on following scientific methodology that he failed to situate the culture in its historical context – failing to mention the effects of colonization, war, foreign trade, and cultural degeneration on the culture! Malinowski felt that by inserting history into his ‘scientific’ work, he was providing too much extenuating material, which might then act to dilute the reader’s view of the ‘real’ culture at hand! Once again, from a structuralist perspective, this seems relatively unproblematic – a prescribed schema is used as a lens through which to view the subject, while all outliers are either manipulated to fit or ignored as irrelevant! Perhaps the best quote of this chapter is found on page 149: “An exuberant critique of interpretive anthropology is offered by literary theorist David Chioni Moore, who urges anthropology to “cut its (pure-)theory angst…and learn to love, at least in theory, interpretations.”
In the same way that anthropologist deal with the problem of being overly scientific, so too those who study religion struggle between being too contextual and being overly interpretive. I think we have an equal responsibility to interpret the text while still situating it within the context in which it was written.
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