EmileDurkheim:TheSocialasSacred
f Freudis the nanrethat comesfirst to mind asthe architectof psychoanf
Ialytic psychology,sornethingsimilar can be said of his Frenchcontemporary,Ernile Durkheim, a figure pivotal to the rise of scientilicsocioiogy.
Durkheim (1858-1917)championedthe key role of societyin shaping
everydimensionof human thought and behavior.His unique acirievement
arisesfrom a determinationto examineail eiementsof human life-work
and leisure,crime and punisl-rment,
languageand logic, the selfand others,
education,politics,the arts, and most especiallythe rituals and beliefsof
religion-as inescapablysocialendeavors.
The stresson societyand its influenceis famiiiar enoughtoday,when
termslike "sociaimobility" and "socialreform'appeal in everyone's
conversation.But that familiarifyitselfis a tributeto Durkl.reim.In his day,accolints
of human belief and behaviortendedby defaultto be stronglyindividualistic.Durkheim disagreed.For him, humansdo not just exist;they belong.
From the beginningof life, they are bound to communities:to a fan-rilyor
clan,a town, a church,or a politicalparry.He sawthesesocialten-rplates
and
ties as so important that they need nothing lessthar-ra professionaldiscipline-sociology-specifically comrnittedto understar-iding
ther-n.
Durkheim wasborn in 1B5Bat Epinal,near Strasbourg
in northeastern France.The son ofa rabbi, he was raised,like Freud,asa lew in a predominantly Roman Catholic city and nation. He was a brilliant student,
who won a placeat the prestigior"rs
EcoleNormale Superieurin Parisand
later took a professorialappointmentat the Universityof Bordeaux,where
a position was createdfor him. 'Ihere he pursuedan ambitiousprogram of
sociologicalresearch,writing articlesand reviews,creatinga new scholarly
journal, IiAneeSociologique,
and publishing tl'rreebooks: TheDivision of
(1897),
Labor (1893),TheRulesof Sociological
Method ( 1895),and StLicide
the last an intriguing exploration of the social pressuresaffecting this
deeplypersonalact ofdespair.
100
IntroducingReligion
Durkheim's scientific sociologywas new but not without roots. He
had read Tyior and Frazer,and took inspiration from his own teacher,
Numa Denys Fustel de Coulanges,whose acclaimedstudy, The Ancient
City (I86a), stressedthe roie of religion in Greek and Roman communities. He aiso drew on earlier Frer-rchthinkers: Baron de Montesquieu
frorn the ageof Enlightenment,the socialistSt. Simon, and the positivist
AugusteComte.Frorntheir writings and others,Durkheim concludedthat
the modern Westernworld is set apart from other,earliersocietiesby two
nlomentolrsevents-the politicalearthquakeof tl-reFrenchRevolutionand
the economictidal wave of the industrial revolution.
In 1902Durkheim was appointedProfessorat the Universityof Paris,
achievingthe pinnacleof academicprestigein France.While in that post,
he devotedhis inquiries more directly to the theme of religion.The result,
after ten yearsof labor, was the masterworkof his career:TheElementary
Formsof theReligiousLife, publishedin 1912.The selectionsprovidedhere
are taken frorn this book-now a classictext ir.rthe theory of religion.
The title of TheElementaryFormsdisclosesits theme.Durkheim seeks
to uncovercertainfundamentalunits,or building blocks,of religion-what
he describesasits "everpresentcauses"in all placesand times.He doesnot
believethat tl'resecausescan be found through the comparativemethod
practicedby Tylor and Frazer,who drew on too many examplesfrom too
many placesand cultures.Far better,he felt, to fix atter-rtionon just one
primitive culture and draw from the on-scenereportsof peoplewho have
taken time actuallyto immerse themselvesin its life. Suchaccountswere
in fact availablein the carefulfield studiesthat had been preparedby two
Englishanthropologists,Baldwin Spencerand F.j. Gillen, and otherswho
had lived amongthe remoteAborgine peoplesof Australia.For Durkheim,
one such "well made experiment" ofiered more value to sociologicalsciencethan all the tomes of Tylor and Frazercombined.
Durkheirn departedfrom the Victorians,and from Freud,in another
way.For irim the defining essentialof reiigion was not belief in spiritual,
or supernatural,beings,but the distinction that all societiesmake between
things sacredand things profane.The sacredis the realm of important
matters,the greatconcernsthat affectthe life of the entirecommunity; the
profane,in contrast,is the realm of things personaland private,the daily
minor needsof the individual.Religionis the systemof beliefsand practicesrelatedto sacredthings, the vital issuesof the community; it should
be distinguishedclearlyfrom an enterpriselike magic,whosemain interest
is the rninor,petty interestsar-rdailmentsof ir-rdividuals.
Durkheim noticed that at the centerof Aborigir-rereligion standsthe
very thing that so fascinatedFreud: worship of the totem. Each of the
EnileDurkheint:.[heSocial
asSacretl
l0l
Australian clans centersits rituals on a singre
sacredfigure-'sualry an
animal,occasiona'ya pla't-to wrrichit is eicl'sively
attlched.rrr. iot.image standsat the centerof all its assernblies
a'd governsalr aspectsof
clanlife.It is surror-r'decr
witl-rtaboos.whire ail othcranimarsca'be killed
and eateir'the cra.'stotem may not-except
o' special,sacredoccasrons
whe' it is ritually sacrificed,and all .o.,r*'"
rt ir a cerebratoryfeast.In
simple terms we could say that an Aborigine
clar.rworsl-rips
it, tot",,-',t ut
the.trutl.ris actuailymore sr-rbtle.
For it i!'ot re:rllytlie toterl itserf-trre
cockatielor frog or crow' seenas a divinity-that
drawsthe worship of the
clan. It is rather wrrat Dr-rrr<heim
callsthe "toten.ricprircipie,,-a' impcr
sonalforcewithin and ber-ri'dthe totem.what
ca, this be?He arswers:
"The god of the cla', tl.retotemic
pri.ciple, can trrereforebe nothing else
than the.dan itself,personifiedanctrepresented
to the imagi'atio' r-inder
the visible form of the animaror vegetiiblewhicrr
ser.ves
as totem.,,In worship of this tote'i crivi'ity, trre clariworshipsitscrf
esse'tially,arcl craims
the l oyal tyand l i vesoFit sm em ber s.
once this fiurcrar,er.rtal
fact-trrat worship of god is worship of the
cla'-has been recognizecl,saysDr-rrkheim,
the rer,lrainingpi"..i u, ,1 .
puzzle of primitive society fit natura'y into
place. tt'r. Iot.,o symbol,
carvedi'wood or stone,conveys're permanerce
of the socialcolnn-rurity; totemismprovidessystemso1'orderar.rcl
classification,
co'recti'g
personsto clans ancl dividing clars fror.r.r
each other; totemism .*plnin,
both the idea and immortarity of the sour; the
sor-rlis "the cra' within.,
eachindividual, calling for the denial of the bo<iy'.s
serfishpiiysicala"rrr".
to promote the welf,ireof the group; tr-reim'rortality
of the soul is simpry
an altrrmation that whiie individuals die, the
clar-rliveson. over time the
ancestralsoulsbecometl-reclant guardia' spirits,
and astl-reygrow ir.rbotl.r
powerand prestige,they becomegods.
In the lastpart of his discussionDu'kheinl tllrns
from beriei's
to riLuals'
Rituals in his view are more centrarto rerigio'
trran beriefs,whicr.r
invariably changefiom one tirne or place to
tlie next. Rituals ;,-"
;".formed i' two main typesof cult-trre positive
arcr r.regative-plusa tirird
calledpiacular.Taboos,or prohibitior.rs,
arethe crriefiristance.orr,,.gnii*
ritr-ral'They stressthe importanceof self-sacrifice
over ,"lf i,-rd,,d;;.",
placir-rg
the good of the clan first,the interestsof sclfseco'd
Th. ;;;;*"
cult is illustratedi' the greatintichiur?rd
ceremony,wrrerereligioussentiment rllns deepand e'rotions high, and individu.ls
r-enew
their cornmitment to the life a'rd l.realthof the cl:r.. Simirarly,
o'the solenrnoccasion
of piacularrites,l-reldat times of c'isis o, death,
t.
j;;
private act. Its purpose is to grieve the loss,and 'rou'ring
";;
"
repair tlie"in;ury,
io ihe
coinmunity.
t02
lntroducingReligion
in the end, saysDurkheim, all of the truly "elementaryforms" of reltgion can be found on displayin the totemismof Australianprimitive culture: the separationof sacredfrom profane,the social aim and purpose
of worship, the ideas of the soui, conscienqe,and immortality, belief in r.
ancestralspiritsand gods,and the basicforms of ritual. In and through all
of theseaspects,it is apparentthat the entire tapestryof religion is in its
essencesocial.Its real nature is not to make claimsabout the existenceof
gods,forgivenessof sins,or life afterdeath.For all of thesearesimply sym- i,
bolic representations
of profoundly sociaineedsand sentiments.Religion's
true role is not to bring peopleto a god or offer them salvationin a realm
beyond;it is rather to anchor them, hereand now in the clan,the commu- :
nitythat shapesand sustainstheir lives.
The originality of this argumentasDurkheim patientlydevelopsit in
TheElementaryForms lies not just in its inventiveaccountof religion as
both mirror and templateof a primitive society,but in the unusuallyvarious and fertile applicationsit offers for discerningthe role of religion in
societiesof other placesand times,includingour own.
DefiningReligion:TheSacredandthe Profane
Thefollowing seriesof selectionstracesthe architectureof Durkheim'sargument,
beginningfromhis distinctivedef.nitionof religionin termsof thesacredandprofane
and continuingthroughhis selectionof Aboriginecultureas his testcase,his discussion of the soul, immortality, and asceticism,his accountof the rise of thegods,and
finally his addressto the importanceof rituals:positive,negative,and piacular.
f) eiigiousphenomenaare naturailyarrangedin two fundamentalcategories:
and rites. The first are statesof opinion, and consistin representaAb"li.fr
of
tions; the secondare determinedmodesof action.Betweenthesetwo classes
factsthere is all the differencewhich separates
thought from action.
The rites can be defined and distinguishedfrom other human practices,
moral practices,for example,only by the specialnatureof their object.A moral ir
rule prescribescertain mannersof actingto us,just asa rite does,but which are
addressedto a differentclassof objects.So it is the objectof the rite which must ,
be characterized,if we are to characterizethe rite itself.Now it is in the beliefs
it is possibleto definethe ritel
that the specialnature qfthis objectis expressed.
only afterwe havedeflnedthe belief.
i
pnou: TfreElementary Forms of the Religiouslfe. Translatedby Ioseph Ward Swain.
London:GeorgeAllen & Unwinn Ltd., [1912]1915.
l
EmileDurkheim: TheSocialas Sacred
103
AII known religiousberiefs,wirether simpleor comprex,
presentone common characteristic:they presupposea crassificationor
an the things, rear a'd
ideal,of which men think, into two classesor opposed
groups,g.n.".uttya.rig_
natedby two distinct terms which are translatei w"ll .riough
b/tlr" *ora, profane and sacred(profane,sacre?).This division of the worli inio two domains,
the one containing all that is sacred,the otrrer all that
is profane,is the distinctivetrait of religiousthought; the beliefs,my,ths,
dogmasand iegendsare
eitherrepresentations
or systemsof representationswhiih expresstte
of sacredthings,the virtues and powerswhich are attributed
to trrem,or'ature
trreir
relationswith each other and with profane things. But
by sacredthings or:re
must not understandsimpry those personal beings which
are called gods or
spirits;a rock, a tree,a spring, a pebble,a pieceof wood,
a house,i'I word,
an)'thingcan be sacred.A rite can havethis character;
in fact,the rite doesnot
existwhich does
haveit to a certain degree....The circle of sacredobjects
'ot
cannotbe determined,
then, once for ail. Its extentvariesinf itery,according
to the differentreligions.That is how Buddhism is a religion:
in crefaurtof gods,
it admitsthe existenceof sacredthings, namely,the four
noble truths and the
practicesderivedfrom them.
up to the presentwe have confined ourservesto enumerating
a certaln
numberof sacredthings asexampres:
we rrrustnow show by what ge"neral
characteristics
they areto be distinguishedfrom profanethings.
One might be tempted,first of all, to define th"m Ly the
.,,
place they are
I generallyassignedin the hierarchy of things. They are naturaily considered
superiorin dignity and power to profanethings,and particularly
to man, when
he is only a man and has nothing sacredabo'uthim.
one thinks of himserfas
occupyingan inferior and dependentposition in relatio'
to them; and surely
thisconceptionis not without sometruth. onry there
is nothing in it whicrr is
reallycharacteristicof the sacred.
on the other hand, it must not be lost to view tl-ratthereare
sacredthings
i" .
o1."...{ degree,and that therearesomein rerationto which
a man feelsrrimserf
relativelyat his ease.An amulet has a sacreclcharacter,
yet the respectwhich
t
exceprionat.Even before1-lis
gods,a man is ,rot always,n
l.iTlt::::l,"lftlg
i such
a n-iarkedstateof inferiority; for it very frequentlyhappens
that he exer_
i cisesa.veritablephysicarconstraintupon them to obtain
what he desires.He
beatsthe fetich with which he is not contented,but
onry to reconcirehimserf
with it again,if in the end it showsitselfrnore dociieto
the wishesof its aclorer.
i'To haverain, he throws stones-intothe spring or sacredrakewhere trregod of
rainis thought to resrcre;
he beiievesthaiuy rii,
rre forceshim to come
out
and
show
himself.
Moreover,
if it is true that-.un,
,
man depe'ds upo' his gods,
'this dependenceis reciprocal.The gods also have
need of man; without offer_
,rlingsand sacrificestheywould die. we shall even have occasion
to showthat
104
IntroducingReligion
this dependenceof the gods upon their worshippersis maintainedevenin the
most idealisticreligions.
But if a purely hier.archicdistinction is a criterium at oncetoo generaland
too imprecise,there is nothing left with wliich to characterizethe sacredin its
However,this heterogeneity
relation to the profaneexcepttheir heterogeneity.
this classificationof things and to distinguishit from
is sufficientto ciraracterize
all others,becauseit is very particular:it is absolute.Inall the history of human
of thingsso profoundly
thought thereexistsno othel exampleof two categories
differentiatedor so radically opposedto or-reanother.The traditional opposition of good and bad is notl-ringbesidethis; for tl-regood and bad are only two
narnelymorals.' . .
of the samec1ass,
opposedspecies
The two worlds are not only conceivedof as separate,but as evenhostile
and jealousrivals of eachother. Sincemen cannotfully belongto one excepton
condition of leavingthe other completely,they areexhortedto witl.rdrawthemselvescompletelyfrom the profaneworld, in order to lead an exclusivelyreligiouslife.Hencecomesthe monasticismwhich is artiliciallyorganizedoutside
of and apartfrom the natural environmentin whicl-rthe ordinary n.ranleadsthe
life of this world, in a different one, closedto the first, ar-rdnearly its cot.rtrary.
Hence comesthe mystic asceticismwhose object is to root out from man all
the attachmentfor the profaneworld that remainsir-rhin-r.Fron'rthat corneall
the forrns of religioussuicide,the logicalworking-out of this asceticism;for the
only manner of fully escapingthe profanelife is, after all, to forsakeall life.
manifestsitselfoutwardlywith a visiblel
The oppositionof thesetwo classes
wherever '
sign by which we can easilyrecognizethis very specialclassification,
separatedfrom ,
it exists.Sincethe idea of the sacredis alwaysand every'where
the idea of the profanein the thought of men, and sincewe picture a sort of ;
logical chasmbetweenthe two, the mind irresistiblyrefusesto allow tl-retwo
thingsto be confounded,or evento be merelyput in contactwith
correspronding
eachother;for sucha promiscuity,or eventoo direct a contiguity,would contradict too violently the dissociationof theseideasin the mind. The sacredthingis
that which the profaneshould not touch, and cannottouch with I
par excellence
impunity. To be sure,this interdiction cannot go so far as to make all cornmunication betweenthe two worlds impossible;for if the profanecould in no way
enter into relationswith the sacred,this lattercould be good for nothing.But'in
addition to the fact that this estabiishmentof relationsis alwaysa delicateopera-,
tion in itself,demandinggreatprecautionsand a more or lesscomplicatedinitiation, it is quite impossible,unlessthe profaneis to loseits specificcharacteristics
and becomesacredaftera fashion and to a certaindegreeitself.The two classes
'
cannot evenapproacheachother and keeptheir own natureat the sametime.
Thuswe arrive at the first criterium of religiousbeliefs.Undoubtedlythere
are secondaryspecieswithin these two fundamental classeswhich, in their
EntileDurkheim:TheSocial
as Sacred
i05
' turn,are rnore or lessincompatiblewith eachother.
But the real characte.stic
of religiousphenome'a is that they alwayssupposea bipartite division
of the
wholeuniverse,known and i<nowabre,
into two classeswhich embraceall that
I exists,
but which radicallyexcludeeachother.sacredthingsarethosewhich
the
interdictionsprotect and isolate;profanethings,thosc to-whiclrthcse
rnterdic. tionsare applieda'd which milst remain at a distancefron-rthe first. Religious
beliefsare the representationswhich expressthe nature of sacred
things and
therelationswhich they sustain,either with ei.rchother or with profa.e
i.rir.,gr.
rinally,rites are the rules of cor-rduct
which prescribehow ir'an should co^porthimselfin the presence
of thesesacredobjects....
However,tl-risdefiniLionis ror yct cornplete,for it is cqr-rallyapplicable
to two sortsof factswl-rich,while being relatedto eachothcr,must
t . airti,.,_
guishednevertheless:
theseare magicand religion.
Magic'too, is rnadeup of beriefsand rites.Like religion,it has its rnyths
andits dogrnas;or.rlytl.reyare n-ioreelementary,u'croubtecllybecause,
seekingtechnicaland utilitarianends,it doesnot wasteits^timein pure
specula_
tion.It has its ceremor"ries,
sacrifices,
lustratior-rs,
prayers,chants.'d dances
asw el l ....
Here is how a line of den'rarcation
can be traced betweenthese two
domains.
i; , P. really religious beiiefs are always co"rrorl to a cletermir.red
gror-rp,
which.mli<esprcifmsior-r
of adheringto thern and of practisi'g the rites co''
nectedwith thern.Theyarenot merelyreceiveclindiviciuallyby ill
the members
of this group;they are somethingbelo'ging to the group,aird they'ake
its
unity.Thei'dividuals whicl-rcomposeit feelthernselves,.,nit..l
to eachother by
:thesimplefact that they have a commor-rfaith.
A societywhosemernbersarc
unitedby the fact that they think in the sameway in regardto tl.re
sacredworlci
andits relationswith the profaneworld, and by the factlhat they translate
tl-rese
colmon i{eas into common practices,is what is calleda church.
I'
all
history,
,:
'
wedo not find a singlereligionwithout a Church....
It is quite another matter with magic. To be sure, tire belief ir.r
''
is
'ragic
alwalsmore or-lessgeneral;it is very freque'tly dirfusedin largemasses
of the
,
p o p u l a t i o n ,a n d I h e r e a r e e ve n p e o p l e sw l i e r e i t h a s a s r r r a r r y
r - .l l r e r .e r ratss tl r e
' realreligion. But it does not result ir.rbinding together
those wi.ro adhere to rt,
norin uniting them i'to a group leadinga comrror life. Thereis no
clturclt of
magic.Betwee'the
magicianand the individualswho consultl.rirn,asbetwee'
theseindividuals themselves,the'e are no la.stingbor.rdswhich
m:rl<ethe'.r
of the same m_oralcom'ru'ity, cor.nparable
$y;mernbers
to that formeclby the
in the samesld o1 the observersof the samecurr.The magician
i-ras
i'bt]:".*,
1 clienteleand not a cl'rr-rrch,and it is very possibletl-rathis client! h,rver.ro
otherrelatior.rs
betweeneachother, or even do not kr.roweacl-rother; even thc
106
IntroducingReligion
:
Enile Durkheim: Tlte Socialas Sacrerl
107
relationswhich they havewith him are generallyaccidentalancitransient;they i
car be called upon equarlywell. It is tr'e
tirat they prefer tl-remore
, Peolfes
are just like thoseof a sick man with his physician.. . .
;j
wel
arnong
rhe
n.iosr.rv,rir.a
it is
f ."pres,
fll,T'jjlljlll]T
l,b',;, ,.q""11y
Therestill remain thosecontemporaryaspirationstowardsa religionwhich I,i rl,but
naturaltheyroost"routd
beca,ect., .'ir"..3*. t",r*o;:;;;i';;u'*'tr"
would consist entirely in internal and subjectivestates,and which wor_rld
,i
pass
be
as bei ng not too far rel rov e,.l frnrn rh^
i
..-- r
,.
frorntheo
^-;,-;,-^
ri
u
ni .h1 u,.,. ..,,,f.,s
s ec lrly
y
constructedfreelyby eachof us. But howsoeverreal theseaspirationsn-raybe, i
i lumped
ilT::: ?::?#,,:":1":.
:,::::1,imp.eJ.."ftrt.gins,
togetherunder the.ath"r
"a
or st:Lttnges,are
plrt o, trre
they car.rnotalfectour definition, for this is to be appliedonly to factsalready,t
same
pla'e a'd co's'lted indifferently.Since
from this poi't of view factshavc
realized,and not to uncertain possibilities.One can define religions suchas i
i-an.lnterestor-rlyi' proportior-rto their
generality,they co.side. t},.-r.tu.,
they are,or such as they havebeen,but not such as they more or lessvaguely,
lrobligedto collectaslargea number
as poisible of tl-rem;tl-recircle or.or'p.r,tend to become.It is possiblethat this religiousindividualism is destinedto I irsons
couldnot become"to.[arse.
be realizedin facts;but before we can sayjust how far this may be the case, i
Our methodw i l l not be sucha onc. . . .
we must lirst know what religion is, of what elementsit is made up, from what ,' 1r
[w]e proposeto
our researchto Australiansocieties....Tlr"y
arc pcrcausesit results,and what function it fulfils-all questionswhosesolutioncan- I
'i'it
it ispossibre
todistinguish
varieries
arnc,ng
rhenr,
not be foreseen
beforethe thresholdof our studyl-ras
ilf:|1l;*::l'llTi:ilTugh
beenpassed.It is onlyat
they
belong
toonecommon
gpe....Aiso,a.rrr"rt"?,
i1'' al1
ioi;;;';;;;.i"ril:
the closeof this study that we can attemptto anticipatethe future.
ourdocuments
, ii yttSh
aretrre'rostco'-rprete....
[T]hat.,'r'i.r-,
," f.,rfor.'io,,uau
Thus we arrive at the following definition:A religionis a unifed system
of ,,!, i, t's wo'k is the mostprimitiveand simplererrgion
which it is possibleto ffi:ri
l
beliefsand practicesrelativeto sacredthings,that is to say,things setapart and
;:'l,
l'' ls
isIneretore
therefor-e
naturaltrrat
naturar
that to discover
di.scove,
ir we
.nr"adciresi
,J,l,o"-"ourserves
it,
^,,,--^,,.^^
to societiesassrightry
practices
and
which
unite
into
one
single
moral
community
Jbrbidden-beliefs
for.it il,eldentlytherethatwehavettre
chance
of
sreatest
ilillf,::.t?ii]b]:t
calleda Church,all thosewho adhereto them.The secondelementwhich thus
anci.studying
it we'.Nowthereareno,".;;;;.,rt;il.l,;il;::n".
!dl1s.it
finds a placein our definition is no lessessentialthan the first; for by showing
acteristicto
a l-righerdegreethanAustrarianones.Not
or-rry
is their civirizationthe
that the idea of religion is inseparablefrom that of the church, it makesit clear
mostrudimentary-the housear.rdeventhe
hut arestiil ur-rra,rown_but
alsotl.reir
that religion should be an eminentlycollectivething.
organization
is the most pri'ritive anclsimpiewhich rs
actuariyknol,v..
/-=!t
Sinceneither man nor nature haveof themselvesa sacredcharacter,they
n-lustget it from another source.Aside from the human individual ar"rdthe
psychicalworld, there shouldbe someother reality,in relationto which...all
religion . . . has a significanceand objectivevalue.In other words,beyondthose
which we havecalledanimistic and naturistic,there should be anothersortof :
cult, more fundamentaland more primitive, of which the first are only derived,.
forms or particular aspects.
,;i
In fhct, this cult does exist:it is the one to which ethnologistshavegiven
the name of totemism.
ru
II]t is clearthat Australiais the most favourablefield for the studyof totemisrn,and thereforewe shallrnakeit the principalareaof our observations.
,.. li'
In hts 'fotemism Frazer sought especially to collect all the traces of totem-li,i
TheTotemasNameand asEmblem
to its.nature,our stucly
includetwo parts.Sinceevery rcligio,
is
'viil
conceptionsand rituat praoices, we nlusr
clealsuc_
i ff::^r,,.fwith
:,l,ltl:.tt:.:y.]
thebelief:
wl.richcornposethe tote'ri. ..tigt.,,,.1,.r.
$::tjt]:]y
i"O.l::r
of th,ereligioi-rs
life are too closely connecredwith cacli
orher
[l::,,1:-.::r
tttgt of ar.ryradical separation.In principle,
[1i1t
tl-recr-rltis deriveclfror' rhe
ti.rem;.the
; f;;;e'tly
*ocletectafter tt.rcrire i'
Ti:.lf accoLu.rt
:lreacts'pon
-,,i-' its senseis ro
for
it,
especially
when
1,.'lderto
lo'ger appare't. o' the
i9:*
.,.-. are.r"".rf
- which
ontythrough
it|'|it-r::.1"it^11e
therires
,'
*t':l^
-""uested
Sothese
rwo parts
of our anatysis
cannotfailio overlap.
;l:::::y::::rhern.
f":1, areso dillerer.rt
that
it is indispens"bte
to
:f
:#::;:jtl::""j::,:,:*:
separately.
Andsince
ism which could be found in history or ethnography.He wastl-u-rs
led to include:
it isimpossible
;;;;;.;;;;J*ffi'"u"r,
llu:l1lhem
in his study societiesthe nature and degreeof whose cultures differs most
withtheideasuponwhichit resrs,
wen.rusr
scek
lr,{:9::lJli:,I":.?*ll,ed
widely.. . . This manner of procedureis not at all surprisingfor a discipleof theri to
becomeacquaintedwith theselatter first
of ail.
anthropologicalschool.For this schooldoesnot seekto locatereligionsin the;iiu i' But it is r-iotour intention
to retrace al the specurationsir.rtowhicrr
the
social environmentsof which they are a part. . .. For researches
of this sort.all u ieligiousthought, even of trre Australian.
utor-r.,ho, run. The trrirgs we wish
l0 B
lntroducing Religion
to reachare the elementarynotions at the basisof the reiigion,but there is no
needof following then-rthrough all the development,sometimesvery confused,
which the mythologicalimagination of thesepeopleshas giventhem. We shall
make useof my.thswhen they enableus to understandthesefundamentalideas'1'
better,but we shall not make my'thologyitselfthe subjectof our studies.In so
far as this is a work of art, it doesnot faIl within the jurisdiction of the simple
scienceof religions.Also, the intellectualevolution from which it resultsis of ,
too greata complexityto be studiedindirectly and from a foreignpoint of view.
It c;nstitutesa very difficult problem whicl-rrnustbe treatedby itself,for itself
and with a method peculiar to itself.
Among the beiiefs upon which totemism rests,the most important are
naturally thoseconcerningthe totern;it is with thesethat we must begin.
At the basisof neariy all the Australiantribes we find a grouPwhich holds
a preponderatingplacein the collectivelife: this is the clan.Two essentialtraits
characterizeit.
In the first place, the individuals who compose it consider themselves
united by a bond of kinship, but one which is of a very specialnature.This
reiationshipdoes not come from the fact that they have definite blood connectionswith one another; they are relativesfrom the mere fact that they have
the samename.They are not fathersapd mothers,sonsor daughters,unclesor
nephewsof one another in the sensewhich we now give thesewords;yet they
think of themselvesasforn-iinga singlefamily,which is largeor smallaccording
to the dimensionsof the clan, rnerelybecausethey are collectivelydesignated
by the sameword. . . . The speciesof things which servesto designatetl.reclan
collectivelyis called its totem. The totem of the clan is also that of eachof its
liii
l,1l
rnembers.
Each clan has its totem, which belongsto it alone;two differentclansof
the sametribe cannot have the same.In fact,one is a member of a clan merely
becausehe has a certain name. All who bear this namc are metnbersof it for
that very reason;in whatevermanner they may be spreadover the tribal territory, they all havethe samerelationsof kinship with one another.. . .
In regardto the word totem, we may saythat it is the one ernployedby the
Ojibway,an Algonquin tribe, to designatethe sort of thing whosenametireclan
bears.Although this expressionis not at all Australian,and is found only in one
singlesocietyin America, ethnographershavedefinitelyadoptedit, and useit
to denote,in a generalway,the systemwhich we aredescribing....
[Nlormaliy the totem is not an individual, but a speciesor a variety:it is
not such and such a kangaroo or cro4 but the kangarooor crow in general,
Sometimes,howevet it is a particular object.
EmileDurkheim: TheSocialas Sacrcd
109
r,
[T]he totem is not merelya name;it is an emblem,a veritablecoat-of-arms
whose
analogieswith the arms of heraldry have often been remarkecl.... Tl-rus
,''
,' whenthe Indiansenteredinto relationswith the Europeansand contractswere
formed between thern, it was with its totem that each clar-rsealed the treatres
thus corrcluded.
'
The nobles of the feudal period carved,engravedand designedin every
r:waytheircoats-of-armsupon the walls of tl-reircastles,tl-reirarms, and every
. sortof objectthat belongedto them; the blacksof Australiaand the Indians of
NorthAmericado the samething with their totems....
But toternicimagesarenot placedor-rlyupon the walls of tlreir houses.the
'
sidesof their canoes,their arms, their utensilsand their tombs; they are also
foundon the bodies of the men. They do not put their coat-of-armsmerely
uponthe thingswhich they possess,
but they put it upon their personslthey
imprint it upon their flesh,it becomesa part of them, and this world of representations
is evenby far the more important one.
Thesetotemic decorations
seethat the totem is not merely a
"nuUil,o
nameand an emblem.It is in the courseof the religiousceremonies
that they
areemployed;they are a part of the liturgy; so while the totem is a collective
label,it also has a religiouscharacter.In fact, it is in connectionwith it, that
thingsareclassified
as sacredor prolane.It is the very t)?e of sacredthilg.
The tribes of Cer-rtral
Australia,especiallytl-reArunta, the Loritja, tl-reKaitrsh,the Unrnatjera,and tl.reIlpirra, rnakeconstantuse of certair.rinstrurnclts
in their riteswhich are calledtl.rechuringa... .Th.y arepiecesof wood or bits
of poiishedstone....Uponeachof theseis engraveda clesigr.r
representing
the
totemof this samegroup.A certainnumber of the churingahavea hole at one
end,through which goesa thread.. . . By n-reans
of the thread by which they are
suspended,
they are whirled rapidly it.rthe air in such a way as to produce a
sortof humrning... . Thesesortsof churingaare...bull roarersIsacredsoundmakingdevices:ed.]....
In fact, every churinga, for whatever purpose it may be erlployetl, is
countedamongthe eminent[ysacredthings;there are none which surpassit in
religiousdignity. This is indicatedevenby the word which is used to desigr-rate
thern.It is not only a sr-rbstantive
but alsoan acljective
meaningsacred.... Chu,
ringa,when usedsubstantively,
thereforedesignatesthe thing whose essential
characteristic
is sacredness.
Profar-re
persons,that is to say,women and young
mennot yet initiated into the religior.rs
life, may not touch or evenseethe churinga;they are only allowedto look at it from a distance,and eventhis is only
on rare occasions.
1 10
IntroducingReligion
EmileDurkheim: TheSocialas Sacred
of Thought
SocietyFramesOur Categories
Theidea of classis an instrumentof thought which has obviouslybeen
structedby men. But in constructingit, we have at least had
of
'eed
model;for how could this idea ever have been born, if there i'rad
bee'
tnothingeither in us or arourd us whicir was capableof suggesting
it to r.rs?
,l t.pry tnat lt was given to tts a priori is r.rotto reply at all; this lazy
man,s
i
solutionis, as hasbeensaid,the deathof analysis.But it is hard to see
where
wecouldhavefound tl-risindispensable
model exceptin tl-respectacleof the
iollectivelife' in fact, a classis not an ideai,but a clearlycreh'edgroup
of
thingsbetweenwhich internal relationshipsexist, sirnilar to those
of kinNow tire only groups of this sort know' from experie'ce are those
1dred.
by men in associati'g themselves.
rrformed
. . .In a1l probability,rve wourd
We arebeginningto seethat totemismis a much more cornplexreligionthan
of thlngs
it first appearedto be. we havealreadydistinguishedthree classes
which it recognizesas sacred,in varying degrees:tl-retotemic emblem,the,
animal or plant whose appearancethis emblem reproduces,and the members of the clan. However,this list is not yet complete.In fact, a religionis
not merely a collectionof fragmentarybeliefsin regardto specialobjects',
like thosewe havejust been discussing.To a greateroi lessextent,all knownl
havebeensystemsof ideaswhich tend to ernbracethe universality
religior-rs
of things, and to give us a completerepresentationof the world. If totem-ir
ism is to be consideredas a religion cornparableto the others,it too should"
offer us a conceptionof the universe.As a matter of fact, it doessatisfythis
c ondit ion.
aru
[w]e haveshown what light thesefactsthrow upon tl-reway in which the
idea of a kind or classwas formed in humanity.In fact,thesesystematic[totem:i
are the first we meet with in history, and we havejust seen
ed.l classifications
that they are modeled upon tl-resocial organizatiou,or ratl'terthat they have'
taken the folns of society as their framework..:.It is becausemen wereorganized that they have been ableto organizethings, fbr in classifyingtheselatter, they limited themselvesto giving them placesin the groups they formed
'r,
themselves.And if theSedifferent classesof things are not merely put nextto
social
eachother,but are arrangedaccordingto a unified plan, it is becausethe
groups with which they commingle themselvesare unified and, through their',
union, form an organic whole, the tribe. The unity of thesefirst logicalsys,'
tems merely reproducesthe unity of the society.Thus we havean occasiontor
verifying the proposition which we laid down at the commencementof this ,
"
*ork, ar-tdfor assuringourselvesthat the fundamentalnotions of the intellect,
The
the essentialcategoriesof thought, may be the product of social factors.
above-mentionedfactsshow clearlythat this is the casewith the very notionof
111
have tirought of uniting the beings of the u'ivcrse inr.o honroqerrecius
,,never
.groups,called classes,if we had r-rotthe examplc of lru'en societie! before
oureyes.. .
But these pri'ritive ciassifications have a no less direct interest
fcrr the orig i n so l r e l i g i o u s t h o u g h r . . . .
men of the cla^ and the thir-rgswhich areclassifiedin it fo.'by their
li,',' [T]he
a solid system,ail of wl-roseparts are ur-ritedar-rdvibratesy'rpatl-retically.
!'yion
; Thi sorgani zati on,
w hi ch a t f ir st nr aylr aveappear ed
t o us. . p. . , r . iylogical,is
at
the
saure
time
moral.
A si'gle pri'ciple anirnatesit and rnakesits unrry:
;
i thisis the totern.lust as a man who belongsto tl-recrow clan has within him
of this animal,so the rain, sinceit is of the sameclan anclbelo'gs
;something
s,ametotem, is also necessarily
co'sideredas being "the sa'e thing Is
;tothe
!ia crow";for the same reason,the rnoon is a black cocl<aioo,the su, a
white
cockatoo,
everyblack-'ut tree a pelica', etc.Ali tl'rebeingsarrangedi' a si'gle
clan,whether men, animals,plants or inanimateobjecti ure,n!.eiy fomrs
of
thetoternicbeing...
$, But we also.k'ow that the toternicanimalis a sacredbei'g. Al1the things
illhatareclassifiedin the clan of which it is the emblen'rhavethislame character.
rn one sense,they areanimalsof the samespecies,
just as the man is.
irDecause
'lhey,
too, aresacred,and the classifications
wllich locatetherl in relationto the
otherthings ofthe universe,by that very act give them a placein the
religrous
world.For this reason,the animals or piants alnong theie miry'ot be
laten
fieelyby the human membersof the clar-r.
categoryitself.
However,it is not our intention to deny that the individual intellecthas
betweenthe differentobjectsof
of itself the power of perceivingresemblances
which it is conscious.Quite on the contrary,it is clearthat eventhe most primi-,,;
presupPosethis faculty.the Australiandoesnot
tive and simple classifications
TheTotemasSymbolof the Clanand Its God
placethings in the sameclan or in differentclansat random. For him asfbr us,
ii*ilu. imagesattract one another,while opposedonesrepelone another,and
the sincetotemisn-ris everywheredominated by the idea of a quasi-clivi'e
it is on the basisof thesefeelingsof affinity or of repulsionthat he classifies
prin'ciple,
imminent in certaincategories
of men and thingsand thoughtof ,nd..
c or r es pon d i nigh i rrg si n o n e p l a c eo r a n o ther.
' '.
tt2
Introducing Religion
the form of an animal or vegetable,the explanationof this religion is essentially
the expianationof this belief;to arrive at this, we must seekto learn how men
have been led to constructthis idea and out of what materialsthey havecon.
structedit. . ..
It is the figurativerepresentationof this plant or animal and the
emblemsand symbolsof every sort,which havethe greatestsanctity;so it is iil
them that is found the sourceof that religiousnature,of which the real objects
representedby theseemblemsreceiveonly a reflection.
Thus the totem is before all a symbol,a materialexpressionof something
else.BuLof what?
From the analysisto which we havebeengiving our attention,it is evidentI
and symbolizestwo differentsortsof things. In the first place,
that it expresses
it is the outward and visible form of what we havecalledthe totemic principle
or god. But it is also the symbol of the determinedsocietycalledthe clan.It is
its flag;it is the sign by which eachclan distinguishesitselffrorr the others,the
visible mark of its personality,a mark borne by everythingwhich is a part of
the clan under any title whatsoever,men, beastsor things. So if it is at once
symboi of the god and of the society,is that not becausethe god and the society
are only one?How could the emblem of the group have been able to become
the figure of this quasi-divinity, if the group and the divinity were tvvo distinct
realities?The god of the clan, the totemic principle, can thereforebe nothing
else than the clan itself,personifiedand representedto the imaginationunder
the visible form of the animal or vegetablewhich servesas totem.
'1
But how has this apotheosisbeenpossible,and how did it happento take
olacein this fashion?
In a generalway,it is unquestionablethat a sociefyhasall that is necessary
to arousethe sensationof the divine in minds, merelyby the power that it has
over them; for to its members it is what a god is to his worshippers.In fact,a
and'
god is, first of all, a being whom men think of as superior to themselves,
upon whom they feel that they depend.Whether it be a consciouspersonality, such as Zeus or |ahveh, or merely abstractforcessuch as those in play in
totemism, the worshipper,in the one caseas in the other,believeshimselfheld
to certain mannersof acting which areimposedupon him by the natureof the
sacredprinciple with which he feelsthat he is in communion.Now societyalso
gives us the sensationof a perpetualdependence.Sinceit has a nature which
is peculiar to itself and different from our individual nature, it pursuesends'
*hi.ll ur" iikewise speciaito it; but, as it cannot attain them exceptthrough
our intermediacy;it imperiously demandsour aid. It requiresthat, forgetfulof
our own interests,we make ourselvesits servitors,and it submits us to every
sort of inconvenience,privation and sacrifice,without which sociallife would
be impossible.It is becauseof this that at everyinstantwe areobligedto submit
EmileDurkheim: TheSocialas Sacred
r13
rselves
to rules of conduct and of thought which we have r.reitl-rer
made nor
ired, and which are sometimeseven contrary to our most fundarnental
i ncl i nati ons
and i nsti ncts.
.. .
Now the ways of action to which societyis strongly enough attachedto
them upon its members,are,by that very fact,n-rarkedwitl-ra distinctive
signprovocativeof respect.Sincethey are elaboratedin cornrnon,the vigour
withwhich they have been thought of by eachparticular mind is retained in
allthe other minds, and reciprocally.The representatior-rs
wl-richexpressthem
withineachof us havean intensitywhich no purelyprivate statesof conscrousnesscould ever attain; for they have the strength of the innumerableindividual representations which have served to form eacl-rof them. It is society
speaksthrough the mouths of those who affirrn them in our presence;
is societywhom we hear in hearingthem; and the voice of all has an accenr
whichthat of one alone could never have. The very violence with which society
by way of blame or material suppression,againstevery attemptecldisidence,contributesto strengtheningits empire by manifestingthe common
through this burst of ardor.In a word, when somethingis the object
,,c.onviction
'ofsucha stateof opinion, the representationwhich each individual has of it
ins a power of action from its origins and tl-recondltions in which it was
born,which even those feel who do not submit themselvesto it. It tends to
which contradict it, and it keepsthem at a distance;
frepeithe representations
ontheother hand, it comrnandsthoseactswhich will realizeit, and it doesso,
by a materialcoercionor by the perspectiveof somethingof tl-rissort, br-rt
bythe simple radiation of the mental energywhich it contains.It l-rasan efficacycoming solelyfrom its psychicalproperties,and it is by just this sign that
al authority is recognized.So opinion, prirnarily a socialthing, is a source
ofauthority,and it might evenbe asl<ed
whether all authority is not the daughterof opinion.It may be objectedthat scienceis oftenthe antagonistof opinion,
whose
errorsit combatsand rectifies.But it cannotsucceedin this task ifit does
nothavesufficientauthority,and I can obtain this authority only from opinion
itself.If a peopledid not havefaith in science,all the scientificdemonstiations
,intheworld would be without any influencewhatsoeverover their minds. Even
today,if sciencehappenedto resista very strong current of public opinion, it
|rlqeuld115klosing its credit there.
; i Sinceit is in spirituai waysthat sociaipressureexercisesitseif,it could not
,failto givemen the idea that outsidethemselvesthereexistone or severalpowers,both moral and, at the same time, efficacious,upon which they depend.
..[heymust think of thesepowers, at least in part, as outside thernselves,for
i'theseaddressthem in a tone of command and sometimeseven order them
to do violence to their most natural inclinations.It is undoubtedlytrue that
if they were able to see that these influenceswhich they feel emanatefrom
lntroducingReligion
society,then the m1'thologicalsystemof interpretationswould neverbe born.
But socialactionfollowswaysthat aretoo circuitousand obscure,and employs
psychicalmechanismsthat are too complexto allow the ordinary observert0
see whence it comes.As long as scientificanalysisdoes not come to teachit,
to them, men know well that they must invent by themselvesthe idea of these
powers with which they feel themseivesin connection,and from that, we arer
able to catch a glimpse of the way by which they were led to representthemi
under forms that are really foreign to their nature and to transfigurethemli
by thought.
But a god is not merely an authority upon whom we depend;it is a force
upon which our strengthrelies.The man who has obeyedhis god and who, for
the world with confidence
this reasoh,believesthe god is with him, approaches
and with the feeling of an increasedenergy.Likewise,social action doesnot
confine itself to demanding sacrifices,privations and efforts from us. For the
collectiveforceis not entireiy outsideof us; it doesnot act upon us wholly from
without; but rather,sincesocietycannot existexceptin and through individual
this force must also penetrateus and organizeitself within
consciousnesses,
us; it thus becomesan integral part of our being and by that very fact this is
elevatedand masnified.
Thereare occasionswhen this strengtheningand vivifying action of society is especiallyapparent.In the midst of an assemblyanimatedby common
passion,we becomesusceptibleof actsand sentimentsof which we areincapable when reduced to our own forces;and when the assemblyis dissolved
and when, finding ourselvesalone again,we fall back to our ordinary level,
we are then able to measurethe heisht to which we have been raised above
ourselves.History abounds in examplesof this sort. It is enough to think of
the night of the Fourth of August, 1789,when ar-rassemblywas suddenlyled
to an act of sacrificeand abnegationwhich each of its membershad refused
the day before,and at which they were all surprisedthe day after.This is why
all parties,political, economic,or confessional,are careful to haveperiodical
reunions where their membersmay revivify their common faith by manifesting it in common. To strengthenthose sentimentswhich, if left to themselves,
would soon weaken, it is sufficient to bring those who hold them togetherr
and to put them into closer and more activerelationswith one another.This
is the explanationof the particular attitude of a man speakingto a crowd,at
,
Ieastif he has succeededin enteringinto communion with it. His language
has a grandiioquencethat would be ridiculous in ordinary circumstances;
,
his gesturesshow a certain domination; his very thought is impatient of all
rules, and easily falls into all sorts of excesses.It is becausehe feelswithin
him an abnormal over-supplyof force which overflowsand tries to burst out
f r om him . . . .
EmileDurkheim: The Socialas Sacred
115
ir ' But it is.not only in exceptionalcircumstancesthat this sti*.-rrating
.
r actionof society makes itself felt; there is not, so to speak,
a moment in
our lives when some current of energy does not come
to us from without.
.Theman who has done his duty finds, in the manifestationsof every
sort
expre.ssing-the
sympathy,esteemor affectionwhich his fellowsha,uefoi
him,
a feelingof comfort, of which he doesnot ordinariry take
account,but wrricrr
sustains
him,
the less.The sentimentswhich societyhas for him raise
'one
ne.sentlments
which he has for himself. Becausehe is in moral harmony
r'with.hiscomrades,he has more confidence,courageand boldnessin action,
justlike the believerwho thinks that he feers
the regardof his god turned
graciously
towardshim. It thus produces,as it were,a perpetuar
sustenance
for our moral nature.Sincethis varieswith a multitude
of externalcircumstances,as our relations with the groups about us are
more or less actrve
andas these groups themselves,rnry,*. cannot fail
to feer that this moral
supportdependsupon an externalcause;but we do not perceive
where this
cause
is nor what it is. so we ordinarirythink of it ,r'der ihe form
of a m.rar
powerwhich, though immanent in us, representswithin
us somethingnot
ourselves:
this is the morarconscience,
of whicrr,by the way,men havenever
madeeven a slightly distinct representationexceptby
the aid of religrous
symbols.
In addition to thesefree forceswhich are constantlycoming
to renew our
own,there are others which are fixed in the methods and
traditionswhich we
employwe speaka languagethat we did not make;we use
instrumentsthat we
didnot invent;we invorcerights that we did not found; a
treasuryof knowredge
istransmittedto eachgenerati^on
th-atit did not gatrreritself,etc.It is to society
thatwe owe thesevaried be'efits of civilization,l'd if we do
not ordi'arily see
;, thesourcefrom wl-richwe get them, we at leastknow that they
arenot our own
i T.'l *"llt is thesethingsthatgiveman his own placeamongthings;u
is
amanonly becausehe is civilized.Sohe could not escapetn.
-un
r.Il.,g tiut outside
ofhim thereareactivecausesfrom which he getsthe characteristic"attributes
of
hisnatureand which, as benevorentpowers,issist him,
protectrrim and assure
him of a privilegedfate.And of coursehe must attribute
to thesepowersa dignitycorrespondingto the greatvarueof the good thingshe
attribuiesto them.
Thus the environment in which we rive seemsto us to
r,
be peopled witrr
fo.ttr-rthat are at once imperious and herpful,augustand
gracious,and witrr
ll
iwhich we haverelations.Sincethey exerciseover us
a pressureofwhich we are
we areforcedto localizethem outsideourselves, aswe
'r conscious,
do for the
lust
objectivecausesof our sensations.
.. .
If... ta society] happensto fan in love with a man and if
it thinks it has
.
foundin him the principal aspirationsthat move it, as
weil as the means of
satis4/ing
them, this man will be raisedabovethe othersand,asit were,
deified.
rruJ
rv!
rrt lt
116
lntroducingReligion
'
Opinion will investhim with a majestyexactlyanalogousto that protectingthe :
gods.This is what has happenedto so many sovereignsin whom their agehad
faith: if they werenot made gods,they wereat leastregardedasdirect representativesof the deity.And the fact that it is societyalonewhich is the authorof ;
thesevarietiesofapotheosis,is evidentsinceit frequentlychancesto consecrate
rnen thus who haveno right to it from their ovrn merit. The simple cleference
inspired by men investedwith high social functions is not different in nature
from religiousrespect....In Melanesiaand Polynesia,for example,it is saidthat
an influential man has mana, and that his influenceis due to this mana.How-.
ever,it is evidentthat his situation is due solelyto the importanceattributedto
him by publi co p i n i o n ....
This aptitudeofsociety for settingitselfup asa god or for creatinggodswas
At
never more apparenttlian during the first yearsof tl-reFrench Revolutior.r.
this time, in fact, under the influenceof the generalenthusiasm,things pr'rrely
laical by nature were transformedby public opinion into sacredthings:these
were the Fatherland,Liberty, Reason.A religion tendedto becomeestablished
which had its dogmas,symbols,aitars and feasts.It was to thesespontaneous
aspirationsthat the cult of Reasonand the SupremeBeing atternptedto give ,
a sort of official satisfaction.It is true that this religiousrenovationhad only ,
an ephemeralduration. But that was becausethe patriotic enthusiasmwhich
at first transportedthe massessoon relaxed.The causebeing gone,the eft-ect
could not remain. But this experirnent,though short-lived,keepsall its sociological interest.It remainstrue that in one determinedcasewe haveseensociety and its essentialideasbecome,directly and with no transfigurationof any
sort, the objectofa veritable cult.
AII thesefactsallow us to catchglirnpsesof how the clanwasableto awaken
within its membersthe idea that outsideof them thereexistforceswhich dominate thern and at tire same time sustainthem, that is to say in fine, religious
forces:it is becausethere is no societywith which the primitive is more directly
and closelyconnected.The bonds uniting him to the tribe are much more lax
and more feeblyfelt. Although this is not at all strangeor foreign to him, it is
with the people of his own clan that he has the greatestnumber of thingsin
common; it is the action of this group that he feelsthe most directly; so it is '
this also which, in preferenceto all others, should expressitself in religious
symbols.
But this first explanationhasbeen too general,for it is applicableto every
sort of societyindifferently,and consequentlyto every sort of religion. Let us
attempt to determine exactly what form this collectiveaction takesin the clan
there.For thereis no placewhere
and how it arousesthe sensationofsacredness
it is more easilyobservableor more apparentin its results.
EmileDurkheim: TheSocialas Sacred
I17
ThePowerof SacredCeremonies
[l]t is in the midst of . . . effervescent
socialenvironmentsand out of this efrervescence
itselfthat the religiousideaseemsto be born. The theory that ti-risis really
i
: itsorigin is confirmedby the fact that in Australiathe reallyreligior-rs
actrvity is
almoster-rtirely
confinedto the momentswhen theseassernblies
areheld.. .. The
religiouslife of the Australian passesthrough successivephasesof con.rplete
lull and of super-excitation,and sociallife oscillatesin the samerhythm.
This
putsclearlyinto evidencethe bond ur-ritingthem to one another... . By
concentratingitself almost entirelyin certaindeterminedmoments,the coliective
life
hasbeen ableto attair-rits greatestir.rtensityand ellicacy,and consequently
to
glvemen a more activesentimentof the double existencethey lead
and of tl-re
doublenature in which they participate.
But this explanationis still incon-rplete.
we rraveshown how the cla', by
_
themannerin whicir it actsupon its mernbers,awakenswithi'the'.r the
idea of
externalforceswhich dominatethem and exaltthem; but we must still demand
howit happensthat theseforcesare thought of unclertl"refo'n of totems,
that
isto say,in the shapeof an animal or plant.
It is becausethis a'imal or pla't has given its name to the clan and serves
it asemblem.In fact, it is a well-known law that the sentimentsaroused
in *s
bysomethingspontaneouslyattachtl-remselves
to the syn.rbolwhich represents
them.For us,blackis a sig'of mour'ing; it alsosuggests
sadimpressio'sand
I ideas.This transferenceof sentimentscomessimply fiom
the faci that the idea
, ofa thing and the idea of its symbol are closeryunited in our minds; the result
'
isthat the emotionsprovokedby the one extendcontagiouslyto the
other.Br-rt
thiscontagion,which takesplacein everycaseto a certaindegree,is much
more
completeand more markedwhe'the syrnbolis somethingsimple,defirite
and
easrly
representable.
... For we are unableto consideran abstractentity,which
,,wecanrepresentonly laboriouslyand confusedly,the sourceof the stro'g sentimentswhich we feel.we cannotexplainthem to ourselvesexceptby connect_
'ingthem to someconcreteobjectof whoserealitywe arevividly aware....Itis
thiswhich is loved, feared,respected;it is to this that we are grateful;it
is for
thisthat we sacrificeourselves.The soldier who dies for l.risflae, dies for
his
country;but as a matter of fact, in his own consciousness.
it is tlre flag that has
thefi rstpi ace....
Now the totem is the flag of the clan.It is thereforenaturalthat the impres_
sionsarousedby the clan in individuarrrinds-irnpressions of dependence
and
ofincreasedvitality-shouid fix themseivesto the idea of the totem rather
tl.ran
thatof the clan: for the clan is too complexa reality to be represented
clearly
in all its complex unity by such rudirnentary intelligences.More
than that,
theprimitive doesnot even seethat theseimpressionscome to him from
the
INTRODUCING
RELIGION
Readingsfrom the
ClassicTheorists
Daniel L. Pals
New York
Oxford
OXFORDUNIVERSITYPRESS
2009