MAIN PAGE: DEREK FREEMAN: MARGARET MEAD AND SAMOA
Because Margaret Mead had no participation in the political life of Ta'u, being denied entry to all chiefly fonos, she had no direct experience of the rank system as it operates among chiefs in formal conclave. In this insurmountably difficult situation Mead formed numerous misconceptions about fono behavior and the rank system of Samoa. For example, presumably from her experience as a participant in the malaga, or traveling party, from Ta'u to Fitiuta that she entertainingly described in a letter dated 7 March 1926, Mead reported that a titular chief is of „too high rank to make his own speeches in council,“ and further, that in a fono the titular chief is „a noble figure head“ and the talking chief „makes most of his decisions for him.“1 In the ceremonies associated with the reception of a malaga
it is indeed customary, as Mead observed, for only talking chiefs to speak (as the agents of their ali'i). This, however, is by no means the practice in a formal political fono, particularly in the case of a fono manu, a council especially summoned to consider an issue of major concern. On such an occasion, titular chiefs voice their opinions in the most forthright terms, with that of the highest-ranking chief being of decisive importance. This active participation in the deliberations of fonos of any substantial political significance has long been the established practice. In his journal of 1832, Williams specifically notes that in fonos of moment „the chiefs themselves speak,“ while leaving a speaker to represent them at meetings where subjects of minor importance are discussed, it being considered „below the dignity“ of a titular chief to make speeches on these routine occasions.2
In a local polity, while the titular chiefs commonly consult with one another when a judgment on any major issue is being formed, the actual making of this judgment and its announcement to the fono is the prerogative of the ali'i of highest rank, who is known as the sa'o of his village. The term sa'o has the meaning of right or true, and when applied to the paramount ali'i of a local polity carries these same connotations. The judgment, in fono, of a paramount chief is also called a tonu, meaning an exact decision. The pronouncing of a tonu by a highranking ali'i is usually accomplished with few words and with what Robert Louis Stevenson called „that quiescence of manner which is thought becoming of the great.“ This aristocratic demeanor may, however, be accompanied by an imposing flourish. For example, at a fono at Malua in May 1966, Mata'afa Fiame Faumuina Mulinu'u II, one of the four highest-ranking chiefs of Western Samoa, issued a tonu with the words „Let it be thus …“ at the same time striking the palm of his left hand with his right index finger. Furthermore, when a tonu has been laid down by an ali'i, it is, as the leading talking chief of Sa'anapu averred at a fono in March 1967, something that the talking chiefs present are bound to treat with the utmost respect. These same principles (as my inquiries in 1967 showed) are observed in the fonos of Manu'a, about which Mead wrote. For example, in Si'ufaga (one of the three villages from which
Mead's adolescent informants came) I was told that in the event of an altercation in a fono, the paramount ali'i would, with chiefly words, swiftly bring it to an end.3
In her ignorance of the traditional political life of Samoa, Mead thus gives a quite false impression of the relationship, within a fono, of titular chiefs and talking chiefs. She is equally mistaken in asserting that „the sanctity surrounding chiefs in Samoa was minimal for the Polynesian area.“ As Powell noted in 1886, the Samoans, although they had been converted to Christianity, remained „very tenacious of their traditional myths.“ These myths Powell was able to record in the early 1870s, from Taua-nu'u, the main keeper among the sacri vates of Manu'a (as Fraser called them), „whose duty it was to preserve in their memories and to recite the old legends and myths.“4
Fraser, who in the late nineteenth century edited various of the traditions collected by Powell, has likened Ta'u, the principal island of Manu'a, to Delos, the island birthplace of Apollo in the ancient Aegean. This is an apposite comparison. In the „Solo 'o le Va,“ which recounts the creation of Samoa, Manu'a is described as the first of lands and the high peak of the island of Ta'u as the abode of Tagaloa. Further, the first of all Samoan titular chiefs is said to have been the son of Tagaloa. According to their most sacred traditions then, the ali'i of pagan Samoa were descended from the gods, with the title of Tui Manu'a, as we have seen, being the highest in rank and sanctity of all the chiefly titles of Samoa, as also of all the other islands of the southwest Pacific known to the Samoans.5
The ritual prohibitions surrounding the Tui Manu'a were (as Mead herself noted in 1930) of a most elaborate kind. Similar prohibitions and extreme marks of respect to high-ranking ali'i were also observed throughout the Samoan archipelago. As Thomas Nightingale noted in 1834, no one dared pass in front of the chiefly residence of the paramount chief of western Samoa „under penalty of the severest punishment“; or, as Hood observed in 1862, during the meeting of a fono attended by the Tui Atua, any canoe passing by was, as a mark of respect to the Tui Atua, vacated and pushed across the lagoon, its occupants wading up to their shoulders in the water. The sanctity surrounding Samoan chiefs of high rank was most certainly not „minimal for the Polynesian area.“6
Mead also states that in Samoa „rank is so arranged that there are titles for all those capable of holding them“—the implication being that all competition for titles is thus eliminated. This is by no means the case. There is in fact intense competition for titles at all levels of the rank structure, particularly for titles of special distinction. Indeed, the principal tradition of Manu'a concerns the struggle between two paternal half-brothers for its paramount title: the legendary account of how the village of Ta'u, by force of arms, wrested this title from Fitiuta, the original center of power in Manu'a. According to this tradition, Le Lologa Tele threw down the title of Tui Manu'a between Ali'a Matua and Ali'a Tama, his sons by different wives, telling them to settle its possession between themselves. It was at once claimed by Ali'a Matua on the ground of his seniority. However, Ali'a Tama, being of higher rank on his mother's side, became determined to seize from Ali'a Matua the headdress of white bark cloth that was the distinctive mark of a Tui Manu'a. This he finally contrived to do, and Ali'a Matua, in seeking to regain his dignity, was killed in the ensuing battle. Since that time „there have been many wars between Ta'u and Fitiuta.“7 Similar struggles over titles have occurred throughout the archipelago in the course of Samoan history, disputed succession to chieftainship being, as W. T. Pritchard noted in 1866, one of the „most prolific sources of war.“ In Tutuila in the 1880s, for example, fighting over the succession to the highranking Mauga title, by the factions of the son and the sister's son of the previous incumbent, resulted in the destruction of the settlements of Fagatoga and Pago Pago, and led to violence that had to be quelled by a British warship, H.M.S. Miranda.8
In the western islands even fiercer rivalry occurred over possession of the four sacrosanct titles that are known collectively as the tafa'ifa, the holder of which was regarded as the paramount chief of western Samoa. From the time of its institution, there were, as Kramer relates, violent conflicts between rival contenders for the four titles of the tafa'ifa. For example, after
Galumalemana named as his successor to the tafa'ifa the unborn child of his fifth wife instead of one of his other sons, „severe conflict took place between the brothers until the chosen child, I'amafana, attained the supremacy.“ This rivalry resulted in the division of western Samoa into two large factions, the conquerors and the defeated, and caused fiercely fought wars in which, over the years, thousands were killed.9
With the cessation of warfare at the end of the nineteenth century, disputes over succession to titles began to be taken to the Land and Titles Court (or Commission as it was at first called) that was set up in 1903 by the German authorities. Since that time, although the proportion of chiefs to untitled men is high (in the census of Western Samoa of 25 September 1945, the proportion was 1 to 3.7), hundreds of disputes over titles have reached the Land and Titles Court each year. For high-ranking titles, there are often numerous claimants. For example, in the case of the disputed succession to the paramount title of Sa'anapu, which was heard by the Land and Titles Court in 1964, there were no fewer than eight claimants, with the most intense rivalry between the two main contenders.
The Samoan rank system thus tends to generate bitter rivalries. These rivalries, moreover, may erupt in any social context in which precedence becomes a crucial issue, as, for example, in a kava ceremony. As part of her depiction of what she called the „innocuousness“ of Samoan culture, Mead described the kava ceremony as „a dexterous, graceful play with social forms,“ and went on to claim that the social structure of Samoa is „so flexible, so minutely adapted to manipulation, that it is possible to change the appearance of a fono in twenty years.“ These are major misconceptions. In all fonos of any importance precedence is, in Pritchard's words, „strictly regulated by rank,“ and, as Churchward noted in 1887, „many a quarrel in Samoa has had its origin in the kava distribution, merely from one chief receiving the cup before another believing himself to be of higher rank and as such entitled to higher service.“10
When it impinges directly on the historically sanctioned constitution of a polity, such a quarrel may become violent. This happened (as I was able to document in detail) during a fono manu on the island of Upolu in the 1960s. This revealing case (the names used in the account that follows are pseudonyms) concerns a titular chief, Taeao, who for some time had on genealogical grounds been trying to gain acceptance of the enhancement of his title in his local polity. Having arrived somewhat late at a fono manu, Taeao, using the elaborate respect language of Samoa, requested the officiating talking chief, Taula, to hold a second kava ceremony. His intention was to use the occasion to press the issue of the change in rank he had long been seeking. Taula replied, with the same formal politeness, that the holding of a second kava ceremony would be quite contrary to custom. Vave, Taeao's talking chief, then intervened telling Taula not to bandy words with an ali'i, only to be told by Fusu, a talking chief of a family grouping of rival titular chiefs, to shut his mouth. At this Vave shouted, „Is it trouble you want?“ „Indeed I do!“ retorted Fusu, springing to his feet, and soon the two talking chiefs were fighting furiously just outside the fono house, close to where Taeao was sitting. When Taeao rose to his feet as if to go to the assistance of his talking chief, he was at once struck by Tumau, the senior titular chief of a rival faction. He fell to the floor of the fono house and was immediately set upon by several others of the Tumau faction, including several untitled men who had been sitting nearby. Taeao was violently beaten until he was unable either to stand up or to lift a hand to protect himself. His talking chief, Vave, was also heavily attacked and suffered a fractured skull. The affray was finally stopped by several neutral chiefs and the village pastor. Some time later the fono manu resumed without any kind of alteration of its rank order.
The intense rivalries of the Samoan rank system may also lead to violence between the branches of the same family, particularly when the same title has two or more holders and there is lack of agreement as to which of them is senior in rank. In 1968, for example, again on Upolu, I witnessed violence of this kind when the representative of one branch of an 'aiga of titular chiefs asserted, in a fono, his right as its senior rank holder to take precedence both in receiving kava and in speaking. Having made this challenge he was then and there heavily battered about the head by three members of the rival branch of the same family that had for some years exercised this right. Once again, there was no change in the status quo.
The prerogatives of rank are just as fiercely defended beyond the confines of the fono, as, for example, at a general conference of the Methodist Church in Samoa which was held at a village on the south coast of Upolu in 1965. As there would be many visitors from all over Samoa at this conference, it was decided to hold a ta'alolo, a ceremony in which a large body of people, often as many as a hundred or more, slowly approach a group of visitors, singing and dancing, while bearing gifts of food and other valuables, with the main body being preceded by one or more individuals of rank wearing traditional headdresses. In the village concerned, the wearing of such a headdress is the prerogative of two, and only two, chiefly families. However, when the ta'alolo was held, before hundreds of onlookers, it was headed by a low-ranking titular chief named Fiapoto (once again I am using pseudonyms), bedecked in a headdress and accompanied by a talking chief bearing an orator's staff. This spectacle was too much for the members of one of the chiefly families entitled by rank to wear a headdress, and as Fiapoto approached the vicinity of this family's residence, Isa, the 33-year-old daughter of its principal chief, ran out on to the malae, lifted her clothes to expose her bare buttocks, and bent over to point them directly at Fiapoto. This action is, among Samoans, insulting in the highest degree. In Isa's gesture, Fiapoto's wearing of a headdress, ostensibly the highest of honors, was identified with the lowest part of the human body. Isa and eight of her kindred, including three adolescents, then threw stones at Fiapoto and his talking chief. The assailants were subsequently arraigned before the District Court and fined. All of them, however, appeared well satisfied at having chastised those who had violated a cherished prerogative of their rank.
Such incidents are fairly rare in Samoa, for the elaborate conventions of the rank system are usually sufficient to contain its tensions. However, the fact that violent conflicts do erupt from time to time in highly formalized settings is a clear indication that the Samoan rank system, far from being „hospitable to innovation“ and characterized by „extreme mobility“ as Mead claimed, is, in fact, an essentially conservative system, which, beneath the punctilio of chiefly etiquette, is fraught with intense and long-standing rivalries.
So keen are these rivalries that major issues of rank often turn on the finest of distinctions, as is well exemplified in a celebrated case that occurred soon after the establishment of American government in eastern Samoa in 1900. One of the earliest actions of Commander B. F. Tilley, the first commandant of the naval station at Tutuila, was to appoint three high chiefs to district governorships. One of these was Mauga of Tutuila, and another, the Tui Manu'a, whose rank at that time was the highest in all Samoa. Among the many rules concerning the Tui Manu'a was that in kava ceremonies the term ipu, or cup— which elsewhere in Samoa was used to refer to the kava cup of any titular chief of whatever rank—was reserved within Manu'a for the Tui Manu'a alone. In August 1901, the high chief Mauga visited the Manu'an island of Ofu. At a ceremony held in his honor, he was given pride of place, and his personal kava cup title was announced, in accordance with custom. At this, Mauga demurred, insisting that as one of the newly appointed district governors, he be offered an ipu as was the Tui Manu'a. At first the talking chiefs of Ofu were reluctant, but in the end, after Mauga had quoted the Bible (Romans 13:7) to them („Render therefore to all their dues: tribute to whom tribute is due; custom to whom custom; fear to whom fear; honour to whom honour“) they complied with his demand. When word of this innovation reached the Tui Manu'a he was furious. The talking chiefs who had officiated at the ceremony were apprehended and had imposed upon them the most severe penalties: their property was to be confiscated, their families banished, and they themselves set adrift on the high seas in a canoe.11 At this stage the American authorities intervened, and the case went to trial before a European judge. The judge ruled that it was not wrong to employ the term ipu when kava was being served to high officers of the American government of eastern Samoa—a judgment that initiated the gradual decline of the Tui Manu'a as a chief of unsurpassed rank and sanctity.12
In this historic case we have an example of one of the apparently trivial causes for which Samoans, who are ever ready to „find quarrel in a straw, when honour's at the stake,“ are prepared to fight. In truth this case was, within the values of the Samoan system of rank, very far from being trivial, for the exclusive right to the word ipu was a principal mark of the Tui Manu'a's preeminent rank, as was made evident in the testimony of one of the witnesses at the trial of September 1901. „Could a Tongan have an ipu?“ a Manu'an chief was asked. „No,“ he replied. „Could a Fijian have an ipu?“ „No.“ „If the King of England came here, could he have an ipu?“ „No … the Tui Manu'a is higher than all other kings.“13
This same punctilio also exists at lower levels in the rank structure, as, for example, at the installation ceremony for a newly elected talking chief in a village on Upolu in the mid 1960s. Such installations are attended by all of the titular and talking chiefs of the polity concerned, as well as by chiefly visitors from further afield, who, in contemporary Samoa, are presented at the beginning of the proceedings with a light repast of bread, biscuits, and tea. Convention requires that talking chiefs have their tea served in enamel mugs, while each titular chief is provided with a china cup and saucer and a teapot. Further, all those present must be served in strict order of precedence. On the occasion in question the officiating talking chiefs served a young ali'i, Afoa, before Vaiola, an older ali'i, despite the fact that Vaiola was sitting at a house post of higher rank and took precedence over Afoa in the fa'alupega of their polity. Vaiola vociferously condemned the talking chiefs responsible before the assembled guests. What had happened, he said, was wholly improper and he shouted at the erring talking chiefs, „Don't do new things within this polity! Keep to its constitution!“ He added that if not for his respect for the visitors who were present he would have flung from the house the teapot that had been served to him in wrong order of precedence. On another occasion, the attempt to serve a teapot to a low-ranking titular chief, whose title was not mentioned in the fa'alupega of his polity, resulted in a brief melee in which corms of taro were violently thrown by the members of rivalrous branches of the same extended family.
As these examples show, the manifold conventions that surround the Samoan rank order, far from being „adapted to manipulation“ as Mead claimed, are designed to ensure that any attempt to alter precedence will be at once detected. These conventions, moreover, are both aggressively safeguarded and meticulously observed. Fortunately, we have for virtually all of the local polities of Samoa the detailed fa'alupega that Augustin Krämer collected during the years 1897 to 1899. These fa'alupega, as already noted, are a direct reflection of the constitutions of the fonos to which they refer. In every case that I have investigated during the years 1941 to 1981, the fa'alupega in use in modern Samoa remain essentially the same as those recorded by Krämer at the end of the nineteenth century. There is thus no substantive historical evidence for Mead's assertions of 1928 that „it is possible to change the appearance of a fono in twenty years,“ and that in Samoa, where „the social innovator runs against … no jealously guarded body of tradition,“ the social landscape can, with ease, be „completely altered.“ Rather, the ethos of Samoa, when it comes to rank, is that expressed by the chief Tuato, at the Constitutional Convention of Western Samoa on 20 December 1954: „No one will ever dare to take away or add anything to the dignity of Samoa.“14
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