social opacity and the dynamics of empathic in-sight among the tzotzil maya of chiapas, mexico

Social Opacity and the Dynamics of

Empathic In-Sight among the Tzotzil Maya of

Chiapas, Mexico

Kevin P. Groark

Abstract In this article, I explore local constructions of empathic access and social knowing among

the highland Maya of San Juan Chamula. I argue that a pervasive sense of social opacityFa pre-

sumed inability to accurately know the motivations, potencies, and identities of social othersFgives

rise to a moral-interpretive dilemma centering on the degree of concordance between the publicly

presented self and the subjective or ‘‘private’’ self. I introduce the phrase ‘‘empathic in-sight’’ to refer

to those processesFboth real and fantasy basedFintended to produce an understanding of the

inner states of others (in terms of underlying emotions, feelings, motivations, thoughts, and desires),

thereby restoring a degree of transparency to everyday social interactions. The phrase is meant to

suggest a dynamic and active process of ‘‘seeing within,’’ through which one attempts to gain access

to, and understanding of, otherwise occluded conative and cognitive statesFparticularly those

dimensions of the self that are actively hidden from view. [Chiapas, Tzotzil Maya, empathy, emotion,

ethnopsychology]

What a wee little part of a person’s life are his acts and his words! His real life is led in hishead, and is known to none but himself. . . . His acts and his words are merely the visible,thin crust of his world, with its scattered snow summits and its vacant wastes ofwaterFand they are so trifling a part of his bulk! a mere skin enveloping it. The massof him is hidden.

FMark Twain, Early Fragments 1870–1877

The Root of Primordial Human Blindness

In the Popol Vuh, the ancient ‘‘Book of Council’’ of the Quiche Maya, we learn that at the

moment of their creation, the first four humansFthe lineage-founding ‘‘mother-fathers’’

Jaguar Cedar, Jaguar Night, Not Right Now, and Dark JaguarFwere perfectly formed, and

like the gods themselves, possessed absolute clarity of vision and knowledge:

Perfectly they saw, perfectly they knew everything under the sky, whenever they looked. . . everything was seen without any obstruction. . . . As they looked their knowledgebecame intense. Their sight passed through trees, through rocks, through lakes,

SOCIAL OPACITYAND EMPATHIC IN-SIGHT 427

ETHOS, Vol. 36, Issue 4, pp. 427–448, ISSN 0091-2131 online ISSN 1548-1352. & 2008 by the American AnthropologicalAssociation. All rights reserved. DOI: 10.1111/j.1548-1352.2008.00025.x.

through seas, through mountains, through plains. [They] were truly gifted people. . . .They understood everything perfectly, they sighted the four sides, the four corners inthe sky, on the earth . . . (Tedlock 1996:147)1

But the creatorsFthe makers and modelersFdid not yet realize the perfection of their

creations. In the first words spoken to their new children, they asked: ‘‘What do you know

about your being . . . ?’’ The four mother-fathers looked about them, and answered: ‘‘Truly

then, double thanks, triple thanks . . . our knowledge is good, we’ve understood what is far

and near, and we’ve seen what is great and small under the sky, on the earth.’’ Hearing this,

the creators became worried. Suddenly they realized that their ‘‘works’’ matched them in

knowledge and understanding, and would eventually become their equals. And so, the

bearers and begetters of the first people came to a decision: ‘‘We’ll take them apart just a

little, that’s what we need.’’ They decided to change the nature of their creations. A mist fell

across the vision of the four mother-fathers, their vision was dimmed by Heart of Sky:

They were blinded as the face of a mirror is breathed upon. Their vision flickered. Nowit was only from close up that they could see what was there with any clarity. And suchwas the loss of the means of understanding, along with the means of knowing every-thing, by the four humans. The root was implanted . . . (Tedlock 1996:148)

Despite clear echoes of the Judeo-Christian fall from grace (in which Adam and Eve are

punished for eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, thus having their ‘‘eyes

opened,’’ thus having become like gods), this brief episode from the Popol Vuh gives dra-

matic form to a central epistemological concern in contemporary Mayan life: the superficial

limits of human knowing and perception, and the problematic nature of that which remains

hidden from view. With a single act, the panoptic and penetrating power of primordial

human vision and understanding was taken away.2 As a result, the postlapsarian social world

presents itself to human perception as a largely opaque surface; like breath on a mirror,

primordial human blindness clouds clear knowledge of that which lies behind the forms and

figures of everyday social life. In contrast to the originary state of human perceptual omni-

science, this occluded realm of individual experience, feeling, motivation, desire, and

intentionality can now be accessed and understood only obliquely and indirectly.

In this article, I explore the vicissitudes of this social opacityFand the epistemological

dilemmas to which it gives rise among the Tzotzil Maya of Chiapas, Mexico.3 Among

the contemporary highland Maya, it is widely held that accurate knowing of a

person’s inner states is extremely difficultFalmost impossibleFyet, at the same time,

indispensable for navigating the social world. Indeed, highland Maya ethnotheories of self

posit a radical interiority, a largely occluded core of deep subjectivity that remains masked in

everyday social life. The problem of accessing individual intentionality and feeling, paired

with a widespread awareness of potentially occluded aspects of self and hidden potencies of

others, creates a marked preoccupation with questions of surface and depth, inner and outer,

and public and private. This tension between the visible and hidden in social life is mediated

by a number of complex imaginal and empathic processes that serve to restore a degree of

428 ETHOS

transparency to everyday social interactions. I introduce the phase ‘‘empathic in-sight’’

to refer to these processesFboth real and fantasy basedFintended to produce an under-

standing of the inner states of others (in terms of underlying emotions, feelings,

motivations, thoughts, and desires). The phrase is meant to suggest a dynamic and active

process of ‘‘seeing within,’’ through which one attempts to gain access to, and understanding

of, otherwise occluded conative and cognitive statesFparticularly those dimensions of self

that are actively hidden from view.

Through this discussion, I highlight the ambivalent nature of social knowing among the

Tzotzil Maya, embedding it within a broader examination of the moral inflections of em-

pathic connection, privacy, interiority, and concealment. I focus primarily on imagination,

fantasy, and projection as generative processes underlying such forms of knowing in a social

world structured around the evasion and frustration of more direct forms of other-under-

standing. In delineating the complexities of these themes across various cultural domains,

I present an accounting of the emotional dynamics of everyday life, emphasizing the psycho-

logical, moral, and interpersonal implications of empathic in-sight in a small-scale society.

Genuine Empathy, Pseudoempathy, and Social Knowing

Jodi Halpern (2001) argues that ‘‘genuine empathy’’ entails: (1) decentering the self; (2)

imagining the perspective of another from a quasi-first-person perspective; and (3) approx-

imating the feelings, emotions, motives, concerns, and thoughts of another mind. A key

element in the Western folk definition of empathy is the presumed accuracy of this imaginal

reconstruction, and the assumption that genuine empathy is a positive form of knowing that

necessarily leads to greater understanding of the experiences of another. There is no prin-

cipled reason to assume that these elements are present in most of what passes for empathic

connectionFmuch presumed empathy may actually be dominated by projective processes

of fantasy-based understanding. In such cases, the rendering of the other reflects more

closely the inner states and experiences of the imaginer, resultingFat bestFin a sort

of fantasy-based pseudoempathy. Indeed, pseudoempathic processes may actually hinder

interpersonal understanding in favor of complex projective and introjective dynamics.

Another assumption underlying the Western approach to empathy focuses on its positive

moral valenceFempathic knowing of others is necessarily configured as a positive or

desirable aspect of interpersonal life, and it is experienced as such by the person who is

understood in this way. In fact, the experience of empathic understanding is characterized by

a variable emotional valence, both between individuals and across cultures. This leads to the

seemingly paradoxical conclusion that, although empathically attuned understanding may

be highly accurate, if it is not experienced positively by the other, it cannot properly be

considered empathic.


To understand the dynamics of empathy in any cultural context, the experience of the person

being empathized with must be taken into account; without the opportunity for mutual

communication and feedback, one can never know the extent to which attentiveness and

attempts at understanding are experienced as empathy or as something quite different

(Halpern 2001; Hollan this issue). In cultural settings characterized by a negative approach

to many forms of empathic knowing, such beliefs may lead to elaborate strategies for con-

cealing one’s inner states, as well as equally elaborate countermeasures designed to provide

increased access to the occluded private lives of others. Indeed, in many interpersonal con-

texts, empathic attenuation is necessary to preserve a felt sense of attunement; too accurate

an understanding of the inner states of another may actually be experienced as an impinge-

ment or violation (Spence 1988:597; Lee and Martin 1991:111).

Taking the highland Maya as a case study, I highlight the following conceptual points in

regard to the cross-cultural configuration of empathic processes: (1) the relative value and

desirabilityFeven the possibilityFof social knowing can vary significantly both within and

between cultural contexts (and of course, among individuals); (2) empathic in-sight is always

rooted in complex projective-introjective dynamics, which necessarily condition both the

accuracy and emotional valence of the other-understanding gained thereby; (3) the outcome

of this presumed empathic knowing of others may be either positive or negative (or a com-

plex blend of the two); in some contexts it may result in increased fellow feeling and

cooperation, whereas in others it may serve to reinforce a sense of social atomism, im-

pingement, and interpersonal mistrust; and (4) even in social contexts structured around

privacy and the denial of social knowing, empathic processes are widespread and underlie

the everyday defenses and maneuvers designed to frustrate such ‘‘knowing’’ by othersFin

other words, a preoccupation with questions of access to one’s inner states is predicated on

the assumption that such access is, in fact, possible.

Highland Maya Selves and the Problem of Uncertain Identities

Among the highland Maya, each individual is recognized as the bearer of a conventional

social identity that is easily apprehended and understood. But there is more to being a per-

son than meets the eye. Highland Maya ‘‘metaphysics of personhood’’ (Gossen 1999:244)

posits a tripartite model of the self, a ‘‘conjunctive self’’ composed of three separate aspects

or components that, collectively, constitute the person. This splitting of the self into various

altersFeach with varying qualities, desires, motives, and volitional potentialsFhighlights a

fundamental epistemological dilemma underlying highland Maya social relations: at base,

knowledge of the ‘‘true’’ identities of others is always provisional and contingent, and sub-

ject to error. The particular qualities and identities of these alters are generally only poorly

apprehended by their bearersFeven less so by the surrounding social worldFrendering

both self- and other-directed knowing problematic.

430 ETHOS

Tripartite Model of ‘‘Self’’

Highland Maya metaphysics distinguish three components of the person: the waking self,

the essential soul (or dream self), and a conatal animal companion.4 This tripartite concep-

tion of the person articulates three distinct forms of self organization and experience,

constituting a distinctly Maya construction of subjectivity in which some self-components

are internal, whereas others are characterized by varying degrees of externality and inde-

pendence.

First, there is the social self of everyday waking life, the psychically complex, reflective,

volitional self. This self is assumed to have a sort of ‘‘mundane’’ volition by means of which

the individual charts a course through life, and is generally held accountable for actions and

decisions. The waking self is closely identified with the physical body (bek’talil), an otherwise

inert form animated by the essential soul (ch’ulel) and its attendant warmth (k’ixnal), as well

as the emotive and intellectual contributions of the head ( jolal) and heart (o’ntonal), which

work together in the production of both feeling and thought.

Second, we have the ‘‘essential soul’’ (ch’ulel), a radically simplified alter that functions as the

experiential self of the dream. This is the private self, known only to its bearer, and even

then, known only partially and provisionally. While awake, the essential soul resides in the

body, animating it with consciousness, character, personality, and vitality. At night, the

willful soul quits the body in search of adventures, yielding dreams. Freed from the social-

ized constraints of the physical body, the soul’s essential nature is made manifest in

interaction with others. Within the dream space, this component of self may act in ways that

surprise or terrify the waking self; indeed, this ‘‘dream alter’’ is generally viewed as highly

volitional, yet generally uncontrollable by the waking self (except in the case of witches, who

are thought to have the ability to control the actions of their soul during sleep). Through

these nocturnal wanderings and experiences, the dreamer is allowed a glimpse behind the

normally opaque veil of social life, providing vital clues to the unseen motives and potencies

of both self and other.

Third, we have the conatal animal companion (chon). This animalFdescribed both as a

physical animal and as a soul essenceFis born on the sacred mountain of Tzontevitz at the

same moment at its human counterpart, and their fates are inextricably linked. The char-

acter of the species is thought to be consonant with the personality and social standing of its

bearer, as well as with the potency of his or her essential soul. Powerful people such as civil

or religious authorities are said to have large carnivores (jaguars, coyotes, etc.) as animal

companions, whereas humble or ‘‘poor’’ people are linked to smaller animals such as rabbits,

squirrels, opossums, or skunks (Gossen 1975). For most people, the identity of their conatal

animal companion remains a mystery throughout life. Curers have the power to ‘‘see’’ their

own animal in dreams, and can often divine those of others through dream analysis and

curing. This privileged ability to discern a person’s essential nature (which remains occluded

from even the bearer) suggests the profound access toFand control overFsocial gnosis


that characterizes shamanic practice in highland Chiapas, a point to which we will return in

a later section.

Opacity of the Social World

This conjunctive model of self is closely linked to epistemological assumptions concerning

the opacity of the social world, in which it is assumed that the true nature and motives of

individuals cannot be directly known or perceived. By placing various qualities of the self in

different altersFeach of which is characterized by varying degrees of accessibility by both

self and othersFa series of baffles to social knowing is created. This uncertainty as to mo-

tive and intentionality creates a marked individual and social preoccupation with accessing

the inner states of others and gaining insights into both their true desires and identities.

The conviction that individual subjectivity is generally occludedFoften quite intention-

allyFappears to be widespread among the contemporary Maya of both Mexico and

Guatemala. Describing the Yucatec Maya, Hanks writes:

There is a cliche in Maya which says that every person is a different world. People ofteninvoke this when rationalizing perceived differences in character between individuals ormisinterpretations of others’ intentions. The thrust of the remark is that there are sharplimits on the degree to which one can know another person and share in his or her feelings . . .Interlocutors cannot reasonably assume that they know each others’ true agendas, or that they arereally on the footings they appear to be on . . . [They] are thus cognizant of the complexity ofan individual’s relation to his or her immediate actional context, and they are rarely in-clined, in my experience, to take a person’s representations at face value. (Hanks1990:92–93; emphasis added)

Warren (1995) presents a similar argument for the ‘‘opacity of social life’’ and the ‘‘problem

of unstable selves’’ among the Kakchiquel Maya of Guatemala. The Kakchiquel recognize a

class of people known as sub’unel (deceivers or confounders), who possess the ability to

transform into animals; and like animals, they are driven by an inner compulsion to carry out

nefarious and antisocial deeds. She argues that the imagined presence of such ‘‘unstable

selves’’ renders problematic any certain knowing of the ‘‘true’’ identities of social others. As

result, themes of transformation and unmasking of deceit (or, more accurately, of identifying

an individual’s true identity) are common, and reflect a general preoccupation with ‘‘people

who may not be what they appear’’ (Warren 1995:57). Like the Yucatec Maya, the Kakchi-

quel hold that intentionality and subjectivity are occluded in everyday social interaction,

leading to a widespread conviction that one cannot trust the self-presentations of others

because deception is felt to be ubiquitous (Warren 1995:58).

The highland Maya model of a conjunctive selfFseemingly common throughout the Maya

worldFposits an individual who is intimately connected to a number of self-extensions or

alters, each of which possesses significant yet unknown qualities. This gives rise to a

heightened attentiveness to dilemmas of social knowing, a preoccupation with the generally

432 ETHOS

unknown correspondence between the socially presented self and the various self-extensions

that collectively constitute both self and other. Who, exactly, are the people in your social

world? What unsuspected qualities and potencies do they harbor? Do they control powerful

animal familiars? Is their soul ‘‘strong’’ or ‘‘clever’’? Are they benign or malevolent? The

answers to these questions are not matters of idle curiosityFin a moral economy structured

around the threat and exercise of covert supernatural aggression (such as witchcraft, sorcery,

and dream aggression), lack of attention to the subtle undercurrents of power, motive, and

character structuring social interactions represents a serious breech of self defense.

The Danger of Hiddenness and the Ambivalence of Interiority

The impetus for my thinking about the highland Maya ambivalence toward social knowing

has been informed by the work on Tzotzil notions of privacy by Haviland and Haviland

(1982, 1983). The authors introduce the notion of ‘‘circumspect hiding,’’ a subtle dance of

revealing and concealing in which the social demands for individual transparency and visi-

bility are balanced with individual needs for hiddenness and concealment (Haviland and

Haviland 1983:350). This ambivalent preoccupation with the social dynamics of exposure

and concealment, public and private, visible and occluded, can be seen most clearly in their

discussion of the spatial organization of the Tzotzil house (na), a structure that gives mani-

fest form to the ambivalent guardedness of social life.

The interior of the Tzotzil house is the only uncontested private space in the community.

With walls largely unbroken by windows, any activities taking place inside are hidden from

the gaze of others. The fenced yard or patio represents the outer limits of what may be

considered ‘‘private’’ space, and events taking place in this demarcated space are referred to

as happening ta yut jna (‘‘inside my house’’) or ta yut jmok (‘‘inside my fence’’)Feverything

else takes place ta jamaltik, ‘‘in the open,’’ a public space marked by monitoring and social

scrutiny (Haviland and Haviland 1983:347).

Despite this clear inside–outside distinction, the ‘‘private’’ domestic space is not immune

to external social monitoring, a fact that highlights some of the core contradictions and

tensions inherent in the highland Maya orientation toward public exposure and private

hiddenness. Although life inside the house is undeniably private, its extreme removal from

social monitoring paradoxically renders it a problematic space. When inside the house,

occupants are cut off from the flow of social information on which social life depends

(Haviland and Haviland 1983:347). They can’t be seen, but similarly, they can’t see. Perhaps

more importantly, when hidden from the view of others, one’s activities become inherently

suspectFif you have nothing to hide, your activities should take place in a visible area, such

as the yard: ‘‘staying indoors or, even more unheard of, closing the door is a gross and open

admission of being up to no good’’ (Haviland and Haviland 1983:347).


Within this public–private continuum, the semipublic yard thus becomes a strategically

positioned transitional space, mediating the extreme contrasts of the private interiority of

the house and the public exposure of life ‘‘beyond the fence.’’ Life inside the fenceFbut

outside the houseFoffers a sort of optimal exposure, a compromise between the needs for

privacy and the desire for access to information about the actions of others. It also plays a

valuable communicative role: ‘‘One expects that all one’s business that is carried on where

it could be seen or overheard is, in fact, seen and overheard. Similarly, one presumes that

ignoring any aspect of others that can be perceived is simply foolish’’ (Haviland and

Haviland 1983:347).

Awareness of the tensions (and likely contradictions) between the private and the public across

many cultural domains has led to an intense preoccupation with the tenor of inner life. More

specifically, I argue that this sense of constant monitoringFpaired with deep suspicions

regarding hiddennessFhas resulted in a deeply ambivalent and paradoxical orientation

toward those dimensions of subjectivity deemed ‘‘private’’; that is, internal, hidden, and

unseen. This tension between the private and the socially oriented dimensions of experience

has been discussed at length by Mageo (1996, 1998), who suggests that there exists a contin-

uum between sociocentric and egocentric orientations both within and between societies. In

sociocentric societies, the socially oriented is emphasized as good and desirable, and this is the

element accented in everyday social presentation. In contrast, egocentrically biased societies

locate the most valuable dimensions of human experience and behavior in the individual.

Drawing on her work in Samoa, she suggests that the subjective dimension of the Samoan

personFthe aspect of self in which person feeling, thought, and will is placedFis viewed as a

likely source of antisocial behavior, whereas the socially oriented self is the locus of positive

prosocial disposition and feeling (Mageo 1998:182). Rather than reproducing the old socio-

centric–egocentric binary, Mageo’s approach suggests that both poles of motivation and

identification are present to varying degrees in different contexts, and that a focus on the in-

terplay of these multiple modes of self-experience, action, and social engagement is the most

analytically productive way to engage this tension between the public and the privateF

especially when these two dimensions are characterized by strongly polarized moral valences.

As with the hidden interior of the Tzotzil house, everyone knows that behind the smooth

surface of individual social presentation lies an unknowable heart of experience that is

morally ambiguous, and possibly dangerous. This tension leads to the conviction that the

inner (private) space of others’ experience is likely to be filled with suppressed negative

emotionsFan inner world of self-centered, antisocial feelings, desires, and motivations that

press for expression. Indeed, a strategy of ‘‘circumspect hiding’’Fwary yet polite conceal-

mentFstructures much of everyday social interaction. This tension between revealing and

concealing is not only made manifest in the use of physical space; similar conflicting de-

mands characterize everyday social interaction, and can most clearly be seen in highland

Maya conventions relating to conversational politeness and the performative display of

empathic attunement to the utterances of others. Social norms encourage the suppression

of negative affect in everyday interaction, yet widespread awareness of these expressive

434 ETHOS

norms leads to deep suspicions about those feelings that are being hidden, and a fear that

surface social politeness and other prosocial acts and words mask a realm of intentionality

and feeling that may be profoundly negative.

The Concealment of Negative Emotion and the Performance ofPositive Politeness

Among the Highland Maya, the experience and expression of negative emotionsFparticu-

larly anger, hostility, and aggressionFis highly controlled in favor of an ideal of emotional

‘‘coolness’’ and nonreactivity, with a corresponding emphasis on the maintenance of smooth

interpersonal relations marked by politeness, social deference, and nonconfrontational

comportment. Many negative emotions are closely linked to physical sickness, and their

correct ‘‘metabolism’’ and management is encouraged at both the individual and social levels

(Groark 2005a).

The Chamula Tzotzil ethnotheory of emotion is structured around the same inside–out-

side, hidden–visible, private–public contrasts discussed by Haviland and Haviland in

reference to the dynamics of exposure and concealment in the Tzotzil house. For instance,

emotions that are clearly and honestly signaled are said to ‘‘come out’’ (lok’) from their seat

inside the body (generally in the heart), becoming visible (-vinaj) or ‘‘public/open’’ ( jamal)

where they can be easily deduced from interaction or behavior. In contrast, guarded or

concealed subjective states are said to be ‘‘buried’’ (mukul), ‘‘hidden’’ (nak’al), or ‘‘placed/

guarded inside one’s heart’’ (tik’il ta yut yo’nton). It is generally assumed that emotions dis-

played publicly (ta jamal) reflect conventional norms of comportment, whereas those that

remain ‘‘hidden’’ inside reflect the true desires and feelings of the person, which are, by

nature of their hiddenness, most likely self-serving, aggressive, or otherwise immoral. This

polarized view of social experience leads to a constant preoccupation with the degree

of concordance between surface appearances and inner motivations; a moral-interpretive

dilemma concerning the motivational gravity of the social actions and intentions of others.

The ability to maintain smooth interpersonal relations despite the presence of rancorous

or negative feelings is a highly valued personal quality usually described in terms of being

‘‘tame’’ (manxu) or of having a ‘‘large heart’’ (muk’ul o’nton) that can accommodate trouble-

some feelings without translating them into action. This quality is strongly opposed to

aggressive, emotionally reactive, or overly assertive personal styles, which are highly dis-

valued in both children and adults. In Chamula, such ‘‘small-hearted’’ (bik’it o’nton) people

are feared for their propensity to harbor grievances, cultivating them, then acting clandes-

tinely to harm the object of their hatred (through aggressive magic, dream aggression, or

witchcraft).

In interpersonal relations, these moral ideals translate into a self-presentation structured

around nonconfrontational politeness and a tendency to avoid conflict or interpersonal


strife or ‘‘problems’’ (k’op). Indeed, as Brown (1980, 2004) documents for the Tenejapa

Tzeltal, much adult interaction is characterized by a conspicuous ‘‘positive politeness’’ style

of interaction used by adults (particularly women) to convey agreement, empathy, and pos-

itive affect. This style is both expected and required for smooth interaction between adults,

serving as a sort of ‘‘empathy display package’’Fa suite of interrelated linguistic features

(structural, prosodic, and lexical) in which comportment, restraint, and social grace are

highlighted (Brown 2004).5 When seen in light of Tzotzil orientations toward emotional

suppression, this ‘‘positive politeness’’ style might more accurately be understood as a form

of ‘‘conventionalized positive politeness; that is, as adherence’’ to a culturally prescribed

emotion norm that emphasizes the expression of concord, amity, and empathy (or, at the

very least, a nonaggressive and nonconfrontational stance), regardless of what one may

really be feeling.

Over the years, I have sat through many conversations between both men and women who

appeared to be on good termsFthey laughed, joked, shared food, and drank together. Yet

soon after they parted, the real story emerged: ‘‘That one, he’s a witch. He comes in my

dreams and molests me,’’ or ‘‘That bastard, he’s really wicked. I don’t like him.’’ Conven-

tionalized positive politeness, which on its surface appears to be based on empathic

responsiveness and attunement to another’s utterances, is held to have little connection to

what either party is truly feeling or thinking. Yet there is a sense in which these circumspect

interactions are indeed empathically attuned, inasmuch as they reflect the reciprocal coop-

erative work of maintaining intact the boundaries of another’s ‘‘private’’ space and

experience. This game of politeness, then, involves a mutual empathic awareness of the

boundaries of another’s privacy, and therefore highlights the importance of face saving and

the reciprocal performance of respect in ‘‘positive politeness.’’ Of course, this mutual guar-

ded respect for boundaries also involves defensive strategiesFby not challenging the self-

presentation of others, one hopes to prevent others from doing the same.

I suggest that the net social effect of this pervasive conversational style of surface courtesy

isFparadoxicallyFa heightened sensitivity to the opacity of social life and the relative

difficulty of triangulating in on the motives and emotional states of others based on overt

social interactions. Through conventionalized politeness, the surface clues that might

otherwise reflect inner states are systematically altered. The interlocutor’s ability to directly

infer the speaker’s inner state is thereby frustrated, confounding direct access and encour-

aging imaginative speculations about what the speaker is really feeling and thinking.

Individuals engaged in polite talk are often acutely aware that they can’t reveal what they are

feeling, or that it needs to be couched in soothing back-and-forth politeness. This awareness

gives rise to the assumption (or at least a pervasive suspicion) that similar emotional signals

from others can rarely be trusted; the person with whom one is interacting may be hiding

negative feelings masked by a conventionalized social courtesy. Given the strong social

pressures against overt interpersonal conflict, conventionalized politeness serves as a general

strategy for personal self-defense. As Kluckhohn (1944) pointed out long ago, in a society

organized around respect and fear of retaliatory revenge, the best defense is not to offend.

436 ETHOS

Others are not to be trusted too much or too soon, and most interactions are characterized

by pervasive suspicions that the heart of any interpersonal matter remains significantly hid-

den. The most accessible elements of talk and social interactionFand those accorded the

highest moral worthFare precisely those that preclude accurate knowing of the inner states

of others.

Conflict, Reconciliation, and the Problem of ‘‘Buried’’ Anger

Despite this manifest emphasis on the avoidance of overt conflict, everyday life in Chamula

is rife with simmering low-level tensions and animosities (Burguete Cal y Mayor 2000;

Favre 1964; Manguen et al. 1978; see also Nash 1967a). These various disputes and inter-

personal conflicts are generically referred to as k’op (‘‘problem, conflict, dispute’’), a highly

elaborated and preoccupying cultural category encompassing interpersonal strife, discord,

and verbal disagreement. Like emotions, conflicts can be broadly grouped into two classes:

open or public ( jamal), and hidden or ‘‘buried’’ (mukul). Of the two, ‘‘open’’ or ‘‘public’’

conflicts are most easily dealt with, and tend to involve third-party mediation and some

form of reconciliation. ‘‘Hidden’’ conflicts are more difficult to manage, both individually

and sociallyFtheir presence is never openly acknowledged, and opportunities for recon-

ciliation are limited. Owing to the general tendency to suppress anger in cases of conflict,

many interpersonal disputes are of this ‘‘hidden’’ type.

Suppressed anger and hostility (‘‘fevered heart,’’ k’ak’al o’ntonal) is recognized as the pri-

mordial accompaniment to social conflict, and its management and metabolism is the

central concern in conflict resolution procedures (Collier 1973). Indeed, fears about the

sickening potential of unexpressed anger form the ideological underbelly of local conflict

ideologyFa medicomoral emotional substructure that both encourages the avoidance

of social discord and prompts quick resolution (see Groark 2005a). When conflict erupts,

informal ritual reconciliation (through the ceremonial ‘‘begging of pardon’’) is strongly

preferred to official court resolutions in most cases. Conflict resolution is a tricky under-

taking; it is essential that the underlying rancor and ill will be addressed and defused, but the

situation must be handled deftly lest it explode into an even more intractable and dangerous

problem. If the anger and resentment generated by the conflict are not addressed (through

both curing and ritual reconciliation), the plaintiffFmotivated by the rancor sequestered in

his or her heartFmay seek revenge through sorcery or witchcraft. As Collier (1973, 1989)

points out, it is for this reason that punishment of the wrongdoer is generally avoided. If the

person is punished or rebuked too harshly, it may arouse his ‘‘fevered heart,’’ causing him to

feel that he has been wronged and is now in need of retribution to soothe his anger. Instead,

each party should compromise and concede something so that neither feels slighted or re-

sentful.

Indeed, the emphasis on reconciliation and restoration of harmony is so strong that it is

considered a hostile act not to pursue (or accept) this act of begging pardon (Collier 1973).


An aggrieved party who doesn’t accept reconciliatory gestures is assumed to be pursuing a

resolution by other meansFusually through witchcraft, sorcery, or malicious gossip. In

Chamula, it is said that a person who ‘‘doesn’t know how to end the anger in his heart’’ is a

witch. Similarly, in Zinacantan a witch is described as someone who ‘‘doesn’t know how to

forgive.’’ To be a witch, then, is to lie outside the bounds of normal human sociality and

morality, unconstrained by the social rules that demand apology and forgivenessFnot re-

vengeFin response to interpersonal conflict. Reconciliation of conflict is thus a social

necessity, regardless of the actual feelings of the antagonists. In the worst-case scenario, ‘‘the

settling of the heart’’ devolves into a pro forma act of social compliance in which little

is truly resolved, and nothing is reconciled. Indeed, the open-ended and ambiguous quality

that characterizes most disputes in Chamula feeds widespread fears that the same people

with whom one has reconciled are, in fact, pursuing clandestine acts of aggression motivated

by the unresolved anger, envy, and resentment that fueled the conflict in the first place.

As this discussion suggests, both the display of interpersonal harmony and the management

of social conflict through reconciliation are social and moral necessities that run deep

among the highland Maya. However, these preoccupations throw into high relief the

possible discordance between social presentation and underlying motivational and affective

states. Within this worldview, social opacity is both a blessing and a curse; whereas others

are unable to gain accurate knowledge of your inner states, you are similarly prevented from

knowing the ‘‘true’’ feelings that reside inside their hearts. In this milieuFone that Kluc-

khohn (1944:87) described as ‘‘an atmosphere favorable to the hypertrophy of social

mistrust’’Flocally defined dangers and threats can encourage a marked preoccupation with

the potentially malevolent motives and intentional states of others. As with the performance

of positive politeness, widespread awareness of the dissimilation involved in performative

politeness and pseudoresolution of conflict suggests active deception and deceit, and re-

affirms the widespread notion that surface appearance and behavior reveal very little about

the inner states and true motives of others. The ambivalent tension between these two

modes of experienceFthe social–public–visible ‘‘good’’ and the personal–private–hidden

‘‘bad’’Fis most clearly seen in relation to witchcraft beliefs, in which this dialectic is played

out in the form of complex projective and introjective dynamics centering around the fear of

covert persecutorial aggression carried out by hidden ‘‘enemies.’’

‘‘Who Knows What’s In His Heart . . . ?’’: The Presumed Pervasiveness ofIll Will in the Social World

One of the first things I noticed about the tenor of social life in Chamula was the presumed

pervasiveness of envy, malice, hostility, and antisocial ill will in the imaginal renderings

of neighbors and acquaintances. Indeed, within the culturally constituted environment,

aggression is felt to be omnipresent and to play out on many levels. Although physical

assault and murder are relatively uncommon, as Favre (1964) points out, the everyday

experiential world of the highland Maya is filled with the infliction of sickness affected

438 ETHOS

through sorcery and witchcraft. These forms of spiritual assault target the person’s essential

soul (ch’ulel) or animal companion (chon). In the experience of many Chamulas, spiritual

aggression is frequently attempted, and often successful. These assaults bear all the hall-

marks of attempted murder: they are premeditated, personalized, and their goal is the death

of the victim.

In Chamula, the agent of these withering spiritual attacks is referred to as a ‘‘giver of sick-

ness’’ ( jak’-chamel ) or more pointedly, as ‘‘the envious person’’ (j’it’ix o’nton)Fliterally, the

‘‘pseudo-’’ or ‘‘bastard-hearted one.’’ This name indexes both a kind of malevolent social

actor, as well as the emotional disposition underlying this person’s ill will. It evokes images

of a distorted subjectivity, an emotive and motivational core that is warped and

deceptive. The heart of the envious person is referred to as ‘‘pseudo’’ or ‘‘bastard’’ (it’ix), a

term that also occurs in botanical nomenclature to distinguish true from false varieties of

deceptively similar plants (Laughlin 1975:64). In highland Maya ethnopsychology, the heart

(o’ntonal) is an organ of central importance. It represents both the literal and metaphorical

center of the human body, the locus of self (Stross 1976; Maffi 1994; Groark 2005a:

128–148). Most emotions originate in the heart (o’ntonal), and the essential soul (ch’ulel) is

generally believed to reside inside this organ (see Groark 1997:44–46, 2005b:787). The

heart, then, is the authorizing core of the person, and in the witch, the operation of this

organ has gone awry.

Following some real or imagined offense, the witch is said to become ‘‘like an enemy,

an adversary’’ ( ja’ k’u cha’al jun enemiko, jun jkontravanel). He or she is ‘‘very touchy’’ (muy

delikado), easily angered, and refuses to allow angry feelings to be pacified. Indeed, such a

person actively works to bring about misfortunes and sickness to assuage the pain of his

hatred and resentment, a poisonous emotional state that has accumulated in his heart and

presses for release. The corrupt inner quality that motivates the witch is known locally as

manya (‘‘wickedness’’), a tendency to engage in antisocial and aggressive acts without rea-

sonable provocation, or in a manner that is out of scale with the nature of the real or

imagined offense.

According to Collier (1973:93), manya derives from the local use of the Spanish term mana,

meaning ‘‘a defect or bad habit,’’ and applied principally to bad behavior in animals. In

humans, manya is far more serious, a characterological and moral defect resulting in ‘‘innate

evil tendencies’’ (Collier 1973:210). Manya, then, is an underlying tendency that causes

certain people to sequester and cultivate their resentments and anger, refusing reconcilia-

tion and seeking relief through indirect or covert aggression against the objects of their ire.

Indeed, suppressed, unassuaged anger is clearly recognized as the immediate motive force in

acts of covert supernatural aggression. In ritual speech the witch is often referred to as jk’a-

k’al-o’nton (‘‘the fevered-hearted one’’), jtzoj-o’nton (‘‘the scarlet-hearted one’’), j’il-k’op (‘‘the

one of angry words’’), and jk’ak’al-k’op (‘‘the one of fevered words’’). These namesFall of

which make reference to the scarlet ‘‘fevered heart’’ and hostile ‘‘fevered words’’ of anger and


conflictFconstellate a set of images linking the witch to powerful metaphors for suppressed

rage and anger stemming from conflicts.

A key component in the imaginal rendering of the ‘‘envious one’’ is his clandestine nature.

Despite the fact that the witch is driven by a ‘‘pseudo’’ heart and filled with a corrupt inner

nature, these qualities are masked beneath the conventional self of everyday social life. By all

appearances, the ‘‘envious one’’ is a regular personFusually a neighbor or someone within

one’s social circle. But beneath this socially presented facade lies a profoundly antisocial

personage who ‘‘looks badly upon’’ the successes of others and delights in their sufferings

and failures. His anger and malice are assumed to be ‘‘buried’’ (mukul) or ‘‘hidden’’ (nak’al)

in his heart, allowing him to interact with others without betraying his true feelings. As a

result, it is difficult to determine who might be an ‘‘enemy’’ from face to face interaction. Yet

these ‘‘buried’’ feelings motivate behavior, and press for expression. Hidden behind the walls

of his house or sequestered in a dark cave in the black of night, the envious one offers candles

and prayers to deities of earth and sky, venting his anger through vengeful requests that his

victim encounter misfortune and sickness.

The inability to readily identify these underlying qualities in others leads to a pervasive

suspicion of the covert omnipresence of people harboring malevolent feelings. One man

explained:

We don’t know if someone nearbyFone of our neighborsFis doing bad things to us.. . . There are bad people whose anger does not pass. They burn candles [and pray thatsome misfortune befalls us]Fwho knows what they say, who knows what their heartsare thinking. . . . You don’t know what your neighbor is up to there inside his house-Fyou just don’t know. One day you’re walking around happily and working, [then]your sicknesses begin little by little. . . . Envious people are everywhere.

This quote highlights the anxiety produced both by the visual occlusion of the house, as well

as the epistemological opacity of the human heart and inner life. These fantasy-based ‘‘per-

secutors’’ (jutilanvanej) or ‘‘tormentors’’ (jilbajinvanej) give form to deep fears about the

dangers of uncertain identities, concealed motives, and hidden acts. The assumed covert

omnipresence of the j’it’ix o’nton seems to index a pervasive conviction that the social world

is structured not around empathy and concord, but around antipathy and latent discordFa

conspicuous lack of fellow feeling that shadows more public forms of sociality and socia-

bility.

Despite the inability to directly ‘‘know’’ (-na) or ‘‘see’’ (-il) what goes on in the homes and

hearts of others, symptoms of latent social discord manifest directly in the body in the form

of various spiritually based illnesses. Such illnesses, when sent directly as a result of the

actions of the aggrieved are referred to as il k’op (‘‘angry words’’ [resulting from envy or

conflict]), k’op chamel (‘‘illness from conflict’’), utilanel (‘‘molesting’’), or ilbajinel (‘‘torment’’).

These are distinguished from ak’bil chameletik (‘‘given illnesses’’), a diverse class of condi-

tions sent by a third party ‘‘witch for hire’’ at the request of his client.

440 ETHOS

Despite their ‘‘hidden’’ or covert etiology, these incapacitating health conditions are taken as

the clearest indicator of the presence of unrecognized or unreconciled conflicts in the social

world of the sufferer.

Saints, Shamans, and the Experience of Empathic In-Sight

If the witch or ‘‘envious one’’ is the archetype of social ill will and antipathy, the various

saints and deities populating the celestial pantheon of the highland Maya represent benev-

olence, succor, and empathic attunement. Chamula Mayan Catholic ‘‘traditionalists’’ form

intimate, open, and emotionally intense relationships with a range of saints, virgins, and

deities. Communication with the deities takes place through the medium of prayer, fasting,

and the ‘‘feeding’’ of the saints with ritual substances. Through the stylized, affectively

charged, and powerful speech of prayer, the saints’ attention is drawn to the suffering and

travails of their children, whom they then take into their care and protection (see Haviland

1989).

Indeed, it is within the genre of prayer that we see some of the most direct expression of

‘‘honest’’ emotion and empathic connection. Of course, many everyday forms of sociality are

characterized by empathic exchanges and attunement, but all are considered to be attenu-

ated and subject to dissimulation and deception. Only in relationship to the deitiesFand,

indirectly, with family members who might be present to hear these prayers and witness the

open expression of intense emotionFis full empathic knowing of one’s inner states expected

and experienced.

Although this relationship is decidedly one sided (in the sense that there is no direct inter-

personal exchange with the saints outside of certain forms of dream experience), interactions

that take place during shamanic curing provide an earthly proxy. Indeed, the shaman or

curer ( j’ilol) has come to play the role of the saints’ representative here on the earth’s surface.

Within the therapeutic setting, open communication and empathic knowing take place, and

through the process of ritualized ‘‘confession,’’ an enhanced understanding of the inner

states and motivations of others is facilitated. It is in the relationship between curer and

patient that actual interpersonal attunement and empathic knowing is played out most dra-

matically and visibly through the acts of diagnosis and treatment. It is here, too, that the

vicissitudes of social life and the dangers of the occluded subjectivities of others are made

manifest through the interpretation of symptoms.

Throughout the highlands of Chiapas, the curer ( j’ilol) plays a central role in the medical

and social life of the community. As in many small-scale societies, ‘‘the medical’’ is not

clearly segregated from the moral, religious, or political. Depending on the nature of the

condition and the form of treatment being pursued, it may incorporate all of these

realmsFoften simultaneouslyFand much shamanic practice is of this integrative sort.

Although it is true that the curer is a medical specialist, his therapeutic power is based in his


role as advocate and earthly intercessor before the deities, and his diagnostic power lies in

the precision and accuracy of his social discernment.6

Curers gain direct access to the internal states of their patients through the taking of the

pulse (pikel). Illness is said to ‘‘become known’’ or ‘‘to manifest in the arm’’ (-vinaj ta k’ob)

through the quality of the pulse. A male curer explained to me, ‘‘the blood tells everything. If

you strike your wife, it says so.’’ Nash (1967b:133) has described highland Maya shamanic

diagnosis as a form of ‘‘sociopsy’’; in contrast to biopsy (lit. ‘‘knowledge of the body’’), sociopsy

(‘‘knowledge of the social’’) connotes a detailed evaluation of the quality and tone of

the patient’s social relationsFquite literally a ‘‘knowing’’ of the patient’s social world. The

sensory modalities involved in this form of knowing privilege ‘‘hearing or listening’’ (-a’i) to

the blood by ‘‘touching’’ or pulsing (-pik), a process that leads to discernment or clear vision

of the underlying social causes of the illness. Indeed, the name for curer ( j’ilol) means ‘‘one

who sees’’ reflecting this gift of clear diagnostic discernment.

As mentioned, the heart is both the physiological and metaphorical center of the human

body. As repository of thought, memory, and feeling (as well as the seat of the soul and ‘‘the

mother of blood’’), the heart forms a nexus between essential and corporeal dimensions of

self. Through the medium of blood, the pulse is able to communicate information not only

about the state of the physical body, but also about inner affective and cognitive processes,

the state of both the essential soul (ch’ulel) and the conatal animal companion (chon), as well

as the quality of the interpersonal surround. Carrying these messages from heart and soul,

the blood provides a radically embodied communication of physical and/or social

disorder that only the curer can hear and understand by ‘‘listening’’ to the pulse.

The pulse, then, provides an involuntary (and unfailingly accurate) form of self-disclosure.

Through the medium of diagnosis, the curer transforms the sufferer’s illness from a mute

symptom into a claim about the interpersonal world. By linking a specific person (or event)

to the current sickness, the curer can create a potent moral narrative in which one person is

understood to suffer because of the immoral or unjust actions of another. Conversely, the

curer can turn the narrative around, diagnosing a moral fault in the patient as the cause of

the illness. Given their privileged access to ‘‘true’’ talk about feelings and interpersonal re-

lationships, curers become the caretakers of social gnosis, repositories of a wealth

of ‘‘private’’ personal information and interpersonal understanding that is systematically

excerpted from most social exchanges. Their ‘‘socioscopic’’ discernment allows curers to

frame the motives and intentions of others in relation to current cases of illness, thereby

providing concrete evidence of the ill will, hostility, and aggression underlying everyday

social interactions.’’

Despite the fact that various forms of empathic attunement and social knowing are distrib-

uted throughout multiple arenas of everyday Tzotzil life, it is not empathy but, rather,

a presumed antipathy that pervades the general view of the contours of the social world.

This pervasive antipathyFmanifested in the figure of the malevolent envier, the witch, the

442 ETHOS

enemy (who, more often than not, is also the neighbor, acquaintance, or even brother)Fis

not merely imagined, it is experienced in the form of sickness, misadventure, and death. And

here we arrive at a paradox: direct embodied experience of another’s antipathy results in

experiences of illness that provide opportunities for actual interpersonal attunement. These

experiences of empathic connection are mediated through the otherwise viscerally mute and

opaque depths of the sufferer’s body, revealed through pulse and speech. Despite the social

and cultural pressures to limit the access of others to one’s inner states, the sufferer is com-

pelled by the curer ‘‘not to speak in a hidden manner,’’ and the flow of bloodFspeech in a

different registerFconfirms the disclosures of the patient. And in a final ironic reversal, the

curer’s empathically informed diagnoses tend to confirm and reinvigorate the view that it is

antipathy and ill will rather than empathy and fellow feeling that permeate and structure

everyday social life.

Discussion and Conclusions

In this article, I set out to delineate and highlight the complex, ambivalent, and often para-

doxical orientations toward empathic in-sight and social knowing among the highland

Maya. Any understanding of the cultural configuration of empathic processes must be based

on an appreciation of the imaginal boundary work that both establishes limits to social

knowing and creates the possibility of traversing these epistemic boundaries. Indeed, as we

have seen, the boundaries that delimit such knowing are often sustained by the very em-

pathic processes they seek to deny: conversational privacy and evasion are facilitated by felt

respect for the boundaries of another’s ‘‘inner’’ life; the invisible and sequestered motives

and feelings of social others are registered in the body through the medium of illness; and

the conviction of pervasive social antipathy is in part sustained through the diagnostic pro-

nouncements of curers, which somewhat paradoxically, are predicated on the open and

direct ‘‘empathic’’ connection between curer and patient. These social and personal pro-

cesses constitute the boundary work that simultaneously facilitates and frustrates social

knowing and empathically based understanding.

As Crapanzano (2004) argues, models of self, society, and experience establish the epi-

stemological horizons that contain the knowable, and by implicitly defining that which lies

beyond, bring the unknowableFat least potentiallyFwithin reach. In the case of the

highland Maya, polite talk, the body’s surface, public acts and wordsFthese represent the

horizons of social knowing in terms of which people must engage one another. But beyond

thisFbeyond the ‘‘visible, thin crust’’ of the publicly presented selfFlies an experiential

hinterland of largely unknowable dimensions of self and other that can be accessed only

obliquely and indirectly. It is this balancing actFbetween overt engagement with the

socially presented surface, and attempts to plumb the hidden experiential depths of

feeling, motive, and desireFthat gives form and specificity to a distinctly highland Maya

understanding of empathic in-sight and social knowing.


KEVIN P. GROARK is Assistant Professor at University of Southern California (Division ofOccupational Science and Occupational Therapy) and Clinical Research Associate atNew Center for Psychoanalysis in Los Angeles, California.

Notes

Acknowledgments. Research funding was provided by a National Science Foundation Dissertation Improvement

Grant, with additional funds provided by the Ford Foundation–UCLA International Studies Overseas Program

(ISOP), the Tinker Foundation, and the Departments of Anthropology and Latin American Studies at the Uni-

versity of California, Los Angeles.

1. The Popol Vuh, or ‘‘Book of the Mat,’’ is a Mayan book transcribed into Roman script in the 16th century by an

anonymous Mayan scribe (then retranscribed as a bilingual Quiche–Spanish copy by the Dominican friar Francisco

Ximenez in Chichicastenango between 1701 and 1703). Despite its colonial provenance, the book represents the

most complete mythic account of the origins of the Maya people, and is likely based on an oral or hieroglyphic pre-

Colombian precursor. All quotations from the Popol Vuh are based on Tedlock’s (1996) translation. The ‘‘breath on

the mirror’’ account I present here is a highly digested and reinterpreted version based on Tedlock’s discussion of

this same episode (1993:1–11).

2. In the contemporary Tzotzil Maya community of San Juan Chamula, we find a strikingly similar story account-

ing for the limits of human epistemic and perceptual acuity:

When the first people came they were like gods. . . . These people had eyes just like a dog’s. Their sight

was keen when they walked at night. They saw just like during the day. Indeed, Our Father Sun in Hea-

ven saw this, that his children had eyes just like a dog’s. He didn’t like it. It was wrong for them to see the

Earth Lord’s mountain riches [with their all-penetrating vision]. ‘‘I had better cover their eyes. If I don’t,

it won’t be right,’’ said Our Holy Father Sun in Heaven. With this, the ancestors had their eyes veiled

with a bit of cloth. Thus, with their eyes covered, they couldn’t see their way at night. They could no

longer walk at night. That is why the people no longer saw their way at night. But long ago they could see

very well. [Gossen 2002:141, 161]

In Tzotzil ritual speech, imagery of cotton cloth [panyo ‘‘kerchief’’ or tuxnuk, ‘‘cotton’’] is often used as a metaphor

for clouds (Kohler 1995:34 n. 44). With this in mind, the line ‘‘the ancestors had their eyes veiled with a bit of cloth’’

conforms to the original account in the Popul Vuh, in which the ancestors’ vision is dimmed by clouds, breath, or

vapor.

3. Data were collected during 12 months of dissertation research (August 2002–September 2003) in the highland

Maya municipality of San Juan Chamula and the ladino regional economic center of San Cristobal de Las Casas. All

interviews were conducted in the Chamula dialect of Tzotzil Maya. An additional 13 months of fieldwork (carried

out between 1992 and 1996) in San Juan Chamula and the outlying Tzeltal community of Santo Tomas Oxchuc also

contributed to the analysis presented herein.

4. This discussion of highland Maya understandings of the soul and the person is based on interview data collected

in San Juan Chamula in 1996 and 2002–03. As might be expected, individual soul beliefs vary widely in their specific

details and idiosyncratic elaborations. Many Chamulas maintain that the ‘‘essential soul’’ (ch’ulel) of each person is

split into two aspects, ‘‘junior’’ (itz’inal) and ‘‘senior’’ (bankilal). The junior or ‘‘small’’ soul is said to reside in the

body, whereas the senior form lives in one of several levels of heaven, with the souls of other people. Although

the incorporated junior form is most closely related to dream experience, informants have also indicated that the

444 ETHOS

experiences of the extrasomatic ‘‘senior’’ soul are registered in dreams. Others maintain that the essential soul

(ch’ulel) is monadic and unitary, and resides either in heaven or in the body. If it is housed in the body, some claim

that it resides in the heart, whereas others say it infuses the blood. Some attest that the soul is made of multiple

constituent subsouls (ranging from three to 13, and in the case of extremely powerful individuals, from 36 to 75 [see

Page Pliego 2005:173 for additional details]), whereas still others think of it as a unified whole. The same diversity

of opinion characterizes beliefs about the conatal animal soul, and the animal familiars of witches.Despite the often-

considerable variation in the specifics of these beliefs (both within and between communities), this account should

be considered a minimal model with which most ‘‘traditionalist’’ Chamulas would agree. For classic ethnographic

discussions of soul beliefs among neighboring Highland Maya groups in Chiapas, see Vogt (1965, 1970),

Gossen (1975, 1993, 1999), Holland (1961b), Kohler (1995), Page Pliego (2005), and Rachun Linn (1989) on the

Tzotzil; and Hermitte (1989), Pitarch Ramon (1996, 2003), Pitt-Rivers (1970), and Villa Rojas (1947, 1963, 1990)

on the Tzeltal.

5. Brown (1980) identified systematic sex-based differences in the use of this style. Among Tenejapa Tzeltal

women, female interaction is typically more polite and circumspect than that of men, who are generally less

performatively polite. Brown attributes this to sociostructural characteristics of highland Maya society that make

women more vulnerable than men. As a result, female politeness becomes a ‘‘strategic’’ protective move to avoid

giving offense and provoking some sort of retaliation (Brown 1980:131). My observations in Chamula suggest that a

similar preoccupation with politeness (and fear of retaliation) prevails among men; however, the feared retaliations

are less obvious, centering on fears of covert retaliation through supernatural aggression.

6. Among the highland Maya, both men and women serve as curers. However, in Chamula the prototypical curer

is Our Father in Heaven, and the role remains associated with powerful older men. For this reason, I use the generic

masculine pronoun throughout. This specialized vocation has been well described in a number of classic

ethnographic treatments (Fabrega and Silver 1970, 1973; Holland 1961a, 1963; and Holland and Tharp 1964;

Metzger and Williams 1963; Vogt 1966, 1976). Although many simple ‘‘naturalistic’’ health conditions are treated

at home within the family (Berlin and Berlin 1996; Groark 1997, 2005a), the curer is seen as essential to the

restoration of health when suffering from more complex health conditions, particularly those ‘‘personalistic’’

conditions caused by supernaturally powerful humans, extrahuman agents, or deities.

References Cited

Berlin, Elois Ann, and Brent Berlin1996 Medical Ethnobiology of the Highland Maya of Chiapas, Mexico. Princeton: Princeton

University Press.Brown, Penelope

1980 How and Why are Women More Polite: Some Evidence from a Mayan Community. InWomen and Language in Literature and Society. Sally McConnell-Ginet, Ruth Borker, andNelly Furman, eds. Pp. 111–136. New York: Praeger.

2004 Learning the Social Graces: Socializing Affect through Play in a Mayan Community. Paperpresented at the UCLA-Sloan Center on Working Families Workshop ‘‘Emotional Meaningin Social Interaction: Toward an Integration of the Subjective and the Social,’’ Department ofAnthropology, University of California, Los Angeles, January 29–30.

Burguete Cal y Mayor, Araceli2000 Agua que nace y muere: Sistemas normativos indıgenas y disputas por el agua en Chamula y

Zinacantan. San Cristobal de Las Casas: Programa de Investigaciones MultidisciplinariasSobre Mesoamerica y el Sureste-UNAM.

Collier, Jane Fishburn1973 Law and Social Change in Zinacantan. Stanford: Stanford University Press.


1989 Whodunits and Whydunits: Contrasts between American and Zinacanteco Stories ofConflict. In Ethnographic Encounters in Southern Mesoamerica: Essays in Honor of EvonZartman Vogt, Jr. Victoria Bricker and Gary Gossen, eds. Pp. 142–158. Albany, NY: Institutefor Mesoamerican StudiesFState University of New York, Albany.

Crapanzano, Vincent2004 Imaginative Horizons: An Essay in Literary-Philosophical Anthropology. Chicago:

University of Chicago Press.Fabrega, Horacio, and Daniel Silver

1970 Some Social and Psychological Properties of Zinacanteco Shamans. Behavioral Science 15(6):471–486.

1973 Illness and Shamanistic Curing in Zinacantan. Stanford: Stanford University Press.Favre, Henri

1964 Notas Sobre el Homicidio entre los Chamulas. Estudios de Cultura Maya 4: 305–322.Gossen, Gary H.

1975 Animal Souls and Human Destiny in Chamula. Man (Journal of the Royal AnthropologicalInstitute) 10(3): 448–461.

1993 The Other in Chamula Tzotzil Cosmology and History: Reflections of a Kansan in Chiapas.Cultural Anthropology 8(4): 443–475.

1999 From Olmecs to Zapatistas: A Once and Future History of Maya Souls. In Telling Maya Tales:Tzotzil Identities in Modern Mexico. Gary Gossen, ed. Pp. 225–245. New York: Routledge.

2002 Four Creations: An Epic Story of the Chiapas Maya. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.Groark, Kevin P.

1997 To Warm the Blood, To Warm the Flesh: The Role of the Steambath in Highland Maya(Tzeltal-Tzotzil) Ethnomedicine. Journal of Latin American Lore 20(1): 3–96.

2005a Pathogenic Emotions: Sentiment, Sociality, and Sickness among the Tzotzil Maya of SanJuan Chamula, Chiapas, Mexico. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Anthropology,University of California, Los Angeles.

2005b Vital Warmth and Well-Being: Steambathing as Household Therapy among the Tzeltal andTzotzil Maya of Highland Chiapas, Mexico. Social Science and Medicine 61(4): 785–795.

Halpern, Jodi2001 From Detached Concern to Empathy: Humanizing Medical Practice. Oxford: Oxford

University Press.Hanks, William F.

1990 Referential Practice: Language and Lived Space among the Maya. Chicago: University ofChicago Press.

Haviland, John B.1989 Sure, Sure: Evidence and Affect. Special issue, ‘‘Discourse and Affect’’. Elinor Ochs and

Bambi Schieffelin, guest eds. Text 9(1): 27–68.Haviland, Leslie K., and John B. Haviland

1982 Inside the Fence; The Social Basis of Privacy in Nabenchauk. Estudios de Cultura Maya 14:323–351.

1983 Privacy in a Mexican Indian Village. In Public and Private in Social Life. S. I. Benn and G. F.Gaus, eds. Pp. 341–361. New York: St. Martin’s.

Hermitte, M. Esther1989 El Concepto del Nahual entre los Mayas de Pinola. In Ensayos de Antropologıa en la Zona

Central de Chiapas. Norman A. McQuown and Julian Pitt-Rivers, eds. Pp. 371–390. Mexico,D.F.: Instituto Nacional Indigenista.

Holland, William R.1961a Highland Maya Folk Medicine: A Study of Culture Change. Ph.D. dissertation, Department

of Anthropology, University of Arizona.1961b El Tonalismo y el Nagualismo entre los Tzotziles. Estudios de Cultura Maya 3: 261–277.1963 Medicina Maya en los Altos de Chiapas. Mexico, D.F.: Instituto Nacional Indigenista.

Holland, William R., and Roland G. Tharp1964 Highland Maya Psychotherapy. American Anthropologist 66(1): 41–52.

446 ETHOS

Kluckhohn, Clyde1944 Navaho Witchcraft. Boston: Beacon.

Kohler, Ulrich1995[1977] Chonbilal Ch’ulelalFAlma Vendida: Elementos Fundamentales de la Cosmologıa y

Religion Mesoamericanas en una Oracion en Maya-Tzotzil. Mexico, D.F.: UniversidadNacional Autonoma de Mexico–Instituto de Investigaciones Antropologicas.

Laughlin, Robert M.1975 The Great Tzotzil Dictionary of San Lorenzo Zinacantan. Washington, DC: Smithsonian

Institution Press.Lee, Ronald R., and J.Colby Martin

1991 Psychotherapy after Kohut: A Textbook of Self Psychology. Hillsdale, NJ: Analytic.Maffi, Luisa

1994 A Linguistic Analysis of Tzeltal Maya Ethnosymptomatology. Ph.D. dissertation,Department of Anthropology, University of California, Berkeley.

Mageo, Jeanette Marie1996 The Reconfiguring Self. American Anthropologist 97(2): 282–296.1998 Theorizing Self in Samoa. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

Manguen, Juan Jaime, Antonio Garcıa de Leon, and Oliverio Ichın S.1978 La Violencia en Chamula. San Cristobal de Las Casas: UNACH.

Metzger, Duane, and Gerald E. Williams1963 Tenejapa Medicine I: The Curer. Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 19(2): 216–234.

Nash, June1967a Death as a Way of Life: The Increasing Resort to Homicide in a Maya Indian Community.

American Anthropologist 69(5): 455–470.1967b The Logic of Behavior: Curing in a Maya Indian Town. Human Organization 26: 132–140.

Pliego, Page, and Jaime Tomas2005 El Mandato de los Dioses: Etnomedicina entre los Tzotziles de Chamula y Chenalho,

Chiapas. San Cristobal de Las Casas, Mexico: Programa de InvestigacionesMultidisciplinarias Sobre Mesoamerica y el Sureste–UNAM.

Pitarch Ramon, Pedro1996 Ch’ulel: Una Etnografıa de los Almas Tzeltales. Mexico, D.F.: Fondo de Cultura Economica.2003 Dos Puntos de Vista, una Sola Persona: El Espacio en una Montana de Almas. In Espacios

Mayas: Representaciones, Usos, Creencias. Alain Breton, Aurore Monod Becquelin, andMario Humberto Ruz, eds. Pp. 603–617. Mexico, D.F.: Centro de Estudios Mayas, IIFL,UNAM–Centro Frances de Estudios Mexicanos y Centroamericanos.

Pitt-Rivers, Julian1970 Spiritual Power in Central America: The Naguals of Chiapas. In Witchcraft, Confessions and

Accusations. Mary Douglas, ed. Pp. 183–206. London: Tavistock.Rachun Linn, Priscilla R.

1989 Souls and Selves in Chamula: A Thought on Individuals, Fatalism, and Denial. InEthnographic Encounters in Southern Mesoamerica: Essays in Honor of Evon ZartmanVogt, Jr. Victoria R. Bricker and Gary H. Gossen, eds. Pp. 251–262. Albany: Institute forMesoamerican StudiesFState University of New York, Albany.

Spence, Donald P.1988 Discussion of I. Moses: ‘‘The Misuse of Empathy in Psychoanalysis’’. Contemporary

Psychoanalysis 24: 594–597.Stross, Brian

1976 Tzeltal Anatomical Terminology: Semantic Processes. In Mayan Linguistics: Volume One.Marlys McClaran, ed. Pp. 243–267. Los Angeles: American Indian Studies Center–University of California, Los Angeles.

Tedlock, Dennis1993 Breath on the Mirror: Mythic Voices and Visions of the Living Maya. San Francisco: Harper

San Francisco.1996[1985] Popol Vuh: The Mayan Book of the Dawn of Life. New York: Simon and Schuster.


Villa Rojas, Alfonso1947 Kinship and Nagualism in a Tzeltal Community, Southeastern Mexico. American

Anthropologist 49(4): 578–587.1963 El Nagualismo como Recurso de Control Social entre los Grupos Mayances de Chiapas,

Mexico. Estudios de Cultura Maya 3: 243–260.1990 Etnografıa Tzeltal de Chiapas. Mexico, D.F.: Gobierno del Estado de Chiapas.

Vogt, Evon Z.1965 Zinacanteco ‘‘Souls’’. Man 29: 33–35.1966 Los H’iloletik: Organizacion y Funciones del Chamanismo en Zincantan. In Los

Zinacantecos: Un Pueblo Tzotzil de los Altos de Chiapas. Pp. 113–128. Mexico, D.F.:Instituto Nacional Indigenista.

1970 Human Souls and Animal Spirits in Zinacantan. In Echanges et Communications: MelangesOfferts a Claude Levi-Strauss a l’Occasion de son 60eme Anniversaire, vol. 2. J. Pouillon andP. Maranda, eds. Pp. 1148–1167. The Hague: Mouton.

1976 Tortillas for the Gods. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.Warren, Kay B.

1995 Each Mind is a World: Dilemmas of Feeling and Intention in a Kaqchikel Maya Community.In Other Intentions: Cultural Contexts and Attributions of Inner States. Lawrence Rosen, ed.Pp. 47–67. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press.

448 ETHOS

social opacity and the dynamics of empathic in-sight among the tzotzil maya of chiapas, mexico

Documents