Our customs do not support democracy, says anthropologist – 01/13/2024 – Environment

“Polarity exists to better distinguish things, not to liquidate the other”, says anthropologist Roberto DaMatta, who revealed the organization through a system of moieties of the Apinayé indigenous people.

“A divided world: the social structure of the Apinayés Indians”, was published in 1976, became a classic of Brazilian anthropology and, after four decades out of print, received a new edition from publisher Rocco.

At the age of 87, DaMatta returned to visit the Apinayé territory, which is located between the left bank of the Tocantins River and the right bank of the Araguaia River, in the state of Tocantins. The visit took place last August, at the invitation of the director of the School of Social Sciences at Fundação Getúlio Vargas, Celso Castro. “The rituals are alive,” DaMatta reports to Sheet.

DaMatta was also a pioneer in the study of rituals and festivals in industrial societies and stood out with other works, such as “Carnivals, malandros and heroes” (1979) and “The house and the street: space, citizenship, woman and death in Brazil” ( 1984). For anthropologist Cesar Gordon, who wrote the pages of the new edition, “DaMatta saw Brazil through the Indians, and he saw the Indians through Brazil.”

It is with this dialogical perspective that DaMatta analyzes the indigenous and Brazilian realities in this interview, comparing the division between the Apinayés and the Brazilian political polarization. “There is no human society, be it tribal or industrial, that has not in some way combined the left with the right,” he says.

The anthropologist also criticizes the time frame of indigenous lands. “We already know that those who are privileged will be innocent”, he points out.

In addition to the return of concern for the lands already demarcated, the reunion with the Apinayés had another surprise: affection. DaMatta says he is rewarded for his dedication to the indigenous people and reveals a desire to visit, after his death, another Apinayé village: that of the dead, where souls end. “Because I don’t want eternal life, I think it’s boring.”

How does the divided world of the Apinayés work?
They have a curious naming system, because names do not individualize, but classify people. They give people rights to perform ceremonies and belong to certain groups. Everyone has adoptive fathers and mothers, who are also blamed when the child suffers something.

And there is one thing that distinguishes them from all other Brazilian tribal populations, which is a race with babassu logs. They run in two teams, which are the two halves. The logs are named, they are transformed into personalities. The curious thing is that the ideal is to arrive together — not to win. So polarity exists so that we can better distinguish things, and not to eliminate the other.

How does this dialectical system of oppositions and moieties differ from the current polarization in the political field in Brazil?
The most obvious and intuitive way to understand the world is to contrast things. In the Apinayés, moieties do not enter the political system. They are not politicized in the sense that one will beat the other. It’s a curious dialectic, because eventually one becomes more important than the other. When it comes to reproduction, the woman is superior to the man because she carries the fetus. If you talk about hunting or strength, man becomes the central point.

These polarizations have to be understood in the light of history and cannot be calcified, immobilized, because then they lose their function, which is to understand the world. Instead, you will misunderstand him. And that’s what’s happening in Brazil. Worse than misunderstanding is this classification of those who do not belong to your pole as an inferior person or as ignorant.

Is it possible to learn from the Apinayés, in order to overcome this Manichean dualism in favor of a more dialectical elaboration?
There is no human society, be it tribal or industrial, that has not somehow combined the left with the right. The American system, for example, famous for the capitalism of the super rich, has a free primary and secondary education system — socialist. And American reactionaries fight against it, they don’t like it.

But there is a fundamental difference in this polarization that appears in Brazil today. In the 19th century, there was another one, which I think is behind this: the polarization of who was slave and who was free; who was black and who was white. It was a huge confusion, where I believe our ambiguity comes from, which we are only now trying to situate and admit.

Mr. He returned to visit the Apinayés last August. What surprised you about this reunion?
The affective and personal relationship. I did not expect. The Apinayés have a tearful greeting. We cried when we said goodbye. They, upon arrival. When I arrived, there was an entire village to welcome me singing. And choro has an element of rhythm, which is incorporated into a song. A harmonious cry. It was very exciting.

I discovered the guest and not the guest of anthropology. Then there is affection, which is missing in Brazil, in Brazilian politics. Our universal affection that does not discriminate against anyone.

In the book, Mr. mentions that the ceremonials were in decline. How do you see them today?
The rituals are alive. The villages are alive. Evidently, it has a very large regional influence. They are all bilingual, something that didn’t exist in the past. Women only wore thongs, today they wear a blouse. But upon my arrival, everyone was dressed traditionally.

Are there new threats to the territory?
Their great concern was the demarcation of the land, which was demarcated. Now they want to make another milestone [temporal para as terras indígenas]?

Brazil changes things that work well for the worse. There will again be farmers who say that the land was theirs, there will be legal processes within this Brazilian jurisdicism, in which we already know that those who are privileged will be innocent. It will benefit agribusiness.

I couldn’t write another book about the Apinayés. This book is a historical record and it is their lives.

In another book of yours, ‘A casa e a rua’, Mr. it also establishes two halves. How do they manage to interpret Brazil?
The house always works; the street, no. The obligations of the house are eternal. That’s what the State is about: I’m 87 years old and I’ve experienced it all: parliamentarism, coup d’état, military neo-fascism.

Brazil is a society colonized by a highly centralizing colonizer. This control is reproduced in this view that “it’s not my problem, it’s the State’s”. But aren’t the customs that are in force yours?

We have not made enough political criticism of our customs — of friendships, of cronyism, of the debts we owe to the people we love.

You embrace democracy, but you don’t have customs that support democracy. This is the point.

Mr. says that his work in anthropology is “the victory of being certain of the exceptionality of human variety.” How would this vision contribute to customs that sustain democracy, in a country that has become more intolerant?
Diversity, while it can be a condemnation in authoritarian and fascist regimes, has the side of compassion, of commiseration. That’s where we have to put more chips in, on that side that combines right and left. It is the ability to better understand our condition. We are contradictory, paradoxical. And on the other hand, we have a terrible and wonderful equalizer: we are all finite. None of us can resist a certain time.

How do Apinayés face death?
They have a simple materialism. You die, then you go to the village of the dead. There, it has a long life, longer than here. Then one day in the village of the dead, you become old and die. Then a second soul comes out, which enters a wooden stump and disappears. I’m very inclined, when I go back there next August, to ask if I can go to that village of the dead, to die. Because I don’t want eternal life, I think it’s boring.

Would this request convert you to the belief of the Apinayés?
I don’t know how it will be. Maybe I can be buried there. What I can say is that reuniting with a population that you dedicated so much energy to studying, made so much sacrifice — I was alone, my son was born here and I was there — is a very rewarding thing. It is an extraordinarily rich thing, which is worth it.

X-RAY
Roberto DaMatta, 87
Born in Niterói (RJ) in 1936, he is an anthropologist, graduated in History from Universidade Federal Fluminense and PhD from Harvard University (USA). Professor emeritus at the University of Notre Dame, he was head of anthropology at the National Museum. He is the author of over a dozen books. Married, he had three children and is the grandfather of 13 grandchildren.