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4
PRIMARY VILLAGE CONCEPTS

The previous section on cosmology and Buddhist traditions was designed
to serve a dialectical function in relation to the ethnographic data. The
classical ideas will sometimes guide the ordering of the ethnography, just
as much as the categories and relations that emerge from the ethnography
will sometimes serve to clarify the classical formulations.

In this chapter I deal with primary concepts that emerge from the
observation of thought and deed in the village.

`Bun' and `baab' (ethical norms) and their implications for merit-making

Bun (merit) and baab (demerit) are verbal categories frequently used by
the villagers. These concepts—especially the former—constitute the major
ethical notions by which villagers conceptualize, evaluate, and explain
behaviour. They derive, of course, from philosophical Buddhism, but
village formulation deviates from the strict doctrinal one and must be
understood in its own terms.

The words tham bun (to make merit) and aw bun (to take merit)—used
as equivalents—refer to the giving of gifts to the Buddhist monks and the
Buddhist wat. The second expression highlights the Buddhist attitude
that merit is made not by giving per se but is `acquired' by the willingness
of the monks to receive. (The sociologist may phrase the transaction
thus: the gift-taker in this context is superior and is capable of transferring
some kind of spiritual grace to the giver.) The concepts `make merit' and
`take merit' express a double relationship in which the transaction is
given a particular ethical twist.

Performing acts of merit and avoiding acts of demerit are directed to
the achievement of certain results. The value of merit-making is discussed
by villagers under two aspects: first, it is said that one's fund of merit
accumulated in this life will ensure a rebirth blessed with happiness,
prosperity and wealth. (The achievement of salvation or final extinction
(nirvana) is not usually stated as a goal nor for that matter does it have
any personal relevance for them.) While merit-making is thus given
ideological direction in terms of somehow immunizing the consequences
of death and ensuring a prosperous rebirth, villagers also say that it has
certain consequences in this life: the giving of gifts to monks produces

a happy and virtuous state of mind. This is no doubt a `vague' formulation,
but we should not disregard it because of its vagueness. (Virtue and purity
are by their nature somewhat diffuse, easily contaminated and relatively
powerless. At the same time they are also considered the best ethical
preventive against misfortune.)

A characteristic of this morality is that one's actions are graded as
meritorious or sinful and one's fate after death is said to depend on the
final balance of pluses and minuses. Villagers say that, if a man has a large
balance of merit over demerit, his winjan (soul) will go to sawan (heaven)
and when his merit is exhausted he will be reborn on this earth (log); if
he has committed both bun and baab, he will first go to hell (narog) and
stay there until his demerit is expiated, then he will go to heaven to
enjoy his merit before being reborn; if his life was wholly sinful, he will
be committed to hell or will wander a long time on earth as a disembodied
spirit (phii) before he can be reborn.

From the doctrinal point of view the quest for salvation is a strictly
individualistic pursuit. In the village context, merit-making as the principal
religious activity is certainly seen as having consequences for individuals.
But the social unit engaging in merit-making need not be the individual—
it may be a family, a household or a kin grouping, or even the entire
village. Individuals then may act as representatives of other individuals
or groups, or may make merit on behalf of another person or other
persons, although part of the merit accrues to the actors themselves. Thus
transfer of merit is not only thought possible, but is also highly institutionalized.

The nature of merit-making acts, their occasions, scale, content and
grading, and the results sought, constitute a major problem for exploration
in this book. But enough has been said already about bun and baab as
ethical concepts for me to mark out some interpretative points which I
think deviate from the conventional analyses of Buddhism. Although
these points anticipate some of my conclusions, I need to state them
here in order that the reader may appreciate my later elaborations.

My first unorthodox point is to question the idea that Buddhism is
concerned with non-empirical ends and expresses only symbolic or ultimate
values. I do not question the fact that some aspects of Buddhistic behaviour
—or for that matter of any other system of `religious' behaviour—do
have this dimension. But the ethic of bun/baab as formulated by villagers
appears to me to have `empirical' objectives—that is, certain practical
results are sought. Seeking a prosperous rebirth is an empirical objective
of a deferred nature. The feeling that engagement in merit-making
results in a felicitous state of mind is more immediate and direct, and it

needs to be highly emphasized that this is a psychological state much
coveted by Thai villagers.

A related point to consider is the appropriateness of overstating the
dichotomy this world/other world, and associating Buddhism exclusively
with the second category. It is certainly true that doctrinally Buddhism
is concerned with the problem of death and its aftermath; that the Buddhist
monks signify withdrawal through their monastic life, and in their `parish'
role act as mediators between death and rebirth. But it needs also to be
emphasized that merit-making is, in part, expressly directed to hastening
rebirth and also to securing a better rebirth than the existing one. This
orientation may also be interpreted as asserting that human life is not
finite, it does not end with death, but belongs to a rebirth cycle. The
preoccupation is with death, but death that can be converted into life.
In this connection we should keep in mind that popular thought conceives
of human states in heaven or hell as transitional phases, leading to the
subsequent reality of human life in this world.[1]

It was sometime after I had formulated this view that I read a passage
in Max Weber (Gerth and Mills 1946) which puts the argument cogently
in respect of the followers of contemplative asceticism. Weber points out
that even the sacred values of a religion orientated to a `beyond' as the
locus of definite promises are preferably not to be interpreted on that
account as being `other worldly'. Or rather, other-worldly sacred values
are by no means values of the beyond. `Psychologically considered, man
in quest of salvation has been primarily occupied by attitudes of the here
and now; for the devout the sacred value, first and above all, has been
a psychological state in the here and now' (p. 278). The Buddhist monk
in search of nirvana seeks the sentiment of cosmic love just as the puritan
certitudo salutis is the feeling of a permanent state of grace.

To restate what seems to be an essential feature in religious behaviour:
in Buddhism, as in many other religions, there is, to use a Durkheimian
phrase, a double relation and the linking up of contraries. A series of
dichotomies, for example this world/other world, living humans/ancestral
spirits, body/soul, permeates religious thought. Religious action is oriented
to influence the relationship between these oppositions, so that living
human beings can experience prosperity and continuity of social life.
Thus ideas such as better rebirth, or union with the inaccessible pure

divine, or immunization of the potency of the supernatural impinging
on humans, are expressions of this desired mediation attempted through
ritual action. Whether we call this `empirical' is not the issue, but whether
its characterization as `non-empirical' is valid or meaningful.

Bun is not only predictive of future rebirth status—where its value is
highly uncertain. Its explanatory power lies in interpreting present status
and present circumstances. This is its convenience as a theory of causation.
But the paradoxical fact is that in a Thai village (as in Buddhist Ceylon)
there exist also other theories of causation of human circumstances, such
as planetary, demonological or even divine intervention. As Obeyesekere
(1958) has argued, these frames of explanation are not mutually inclusive,
with karma or bun/baab being an ultimate formula.

What is the behavioural relationship of this general but diffuse theory
of ethical causation to merit-making? We shall see later on that merit-making
acts are categorized and form an elaborate scheme; yet the results
of bun, to the acquisition of which they are said to be largely oriented, are
not readily evident in everyday life. Baab, on the other hand, while not
clearly categorized—and indeed certain moral precepts whose contravention
causes demerit are often broken with impunity—has clearly
evident results in everyday life in the form of illness, death, misfortune
and the pervasive existence of evil spirits.

The puzzle, then, concerning the concept of bun and the objective of
merit-making is something like this. Merit-making is a pronounced
religious activity, yet the results of bun are vaguely formulated as a desirable
state of mind or a better rebirth. In this life a human being is highly
susceptible to misfortunes caused by powerful and immediate external
agencies. Yet in the final hierarchy of judgment bun and Buddhist
preoccupations occupy the highest place and are given precedence even
as the source of ultimate (though not necessarily accessible) power.

This puzzle can of course be expressed in terms of a certain widespread
arrangement of ideas. Purity, whether personified or an impersonal
quality, is relatively inaccessible, is powerless, and is unstable because it
is easily contaminated; impurity is the direct opposite. The same can
be said of virtue/sin, happiness/misfortune, and similar conceptions. The
concept of bun/baab can be fitted into the same scheme of thought.

Bun, as defined in popular thought and action, is attained through
liberal gifts to the monks and the temple. To a sociologist, then, it is
one type or category of gift-giving and its essence can be inferred by
comparing it with other types of material transactions. The idiom in
which such transactions are dressed and the objects or values exchanged
tell us about the relative positions of giver and receiver and the nature

of the communication between them. The seemingly unilateral nature of
merit-making highlights the ethical value put on voluntary giving at
a cost to oneself. How does this ethical force released by the giver influence
his moral state? And why is this pattern of giving placed on a higher level
than other exchanges?

Another feature of merit-making is that although the actors make merit,
as individuals or families, either on their own behalf or in order to transfer
merit to some other person or persons, the merit-making occasions par
excellence are the collective calendrical rites held at the temple. That is to
say, merit-making, although particularistic in intent, is usually done in
a collective context. Such occasions are by far the most conspicuous
religious activity in the village. In this sense merit-making as a collective
ethic directed to a community institution—the wat and its monks—provides
occasions for residents of a village to assemble periodically. The village
as a territorial community is clearly manifest on these occasions.

These collective merit-making occasions are also characterized by a
festival spirit, fun and recreation. It is necessary to bear this robust aspect
of Buddhist worship in mind and to account for it, for a narrow treatment
of Buddhism as concerned with the other world and preoccupied with
death makes it seem to impose a rather grim and morbid concentration
on `existential anxieties'. How is it that sermons and chants on nirvana,
salvation through wisdom, or acts of superhuman charity and denial of
the world can be accompanied by gay processions, dancing and gambling?

`Khwan' and `winjan' (spiritual essences of individual human beings)

Whereas bun and baab are concepts ultimately derived from the Pali
Scriptures, we now come to two sets of `cultural doublets' (as Michael
Mendelson has put it) which are intriguing because they consist of one
term derived from Pali (or Sanskrit) and the other from the Thai language.

In the winjan/khwan doublet, the former derives from the Pali concept
vinnana (consciousness), while khwan is a Thai word connoting some kind
of spirit essence or soul. The same pair is found in Burma in the form
winyan versus leikpya (the butterfly soul which, like the Thai khwan,
leaves the body easily).

The second doublet is thewada/phii, where the first is derived from the
Pali devata and the second is indigenous. (The Burmese counterparts are
devata and nat.)

In a historical reconstruction one might be tempted to say that the
`borrowing' culture retains both the borrowed and the indigenous concepts,
unwilling to let one interpretation go in favour of the other. But
as an anthropologist I am impressed by the meaningful opposition of

ideas provided by these terms and their structural role in the field of
contemporary religious ideas as a totality.

The concepts of khwan and winjan, both expressing the notion of
spiritual essences connected with the human body, are difficult to define
and describe.

Taking khwan first: some writers have rendered it as `life soul'; others
as `benevolent guardian spirit of an extremely ephemeral essence'. The
villagers' characterization of khwan subsumes a number of ideas: the
khwan resides in the human body; it is attached to the body and yet can
leave it. The causes and consequences of the khwan's departure are
formulated in a circular manner: the khwan takes fright and leaves its
owner's body (chao khong) when he is frightened, sick or in trouble, or
caj bau dee (mind not good). The very act of its fleeing the body in turn
exposes the owner to suffering, illness and misfortune.

The flight of the khwan itself cannot be seen; it can only be inferred
from its effects. But in some instances the evidence is more direct.
`Supposing you are in one place and someone sees you elsewhere, then
your khwan is wandering and must be instantly recalled.'

The khwan is one entity; it is also fragmented into thirty-two separate
essences associated with different parts of the body. (No villager can list
the body parts where they reside.) But the rites for recalling the escaped
khwan treat the totality, that is, the separate essences as a unity.

Animals have khwan too: the animal that occupies the villagers' minds
when they say this is the buffalo used in agriculture. The rule that is usually
enunciated is that any being which has a winjan also has a khwan. (But
yet khwan is also attributed to paddy—however, in this instance, the spirit
of paddy is personified.)

The khwan must be understood in relation to winjan. The winjan,
also a spiritual essence, resides in the body. But it is different from
khwan. The khwan can leave the body temporarily, thereby causing
illness, but it can be recalled and mental and physical health thereby
restored. At death the khwan leaves the body for good, followed by the
winjan. The winjan leaves the body only with death. In fact, death is
described as the escape of the winjan from the body. After death, people
are not concerned with the khwan, only with the fate of the winjan and
its subsequent transformations.

It is apparent that there is a complementarity and opposition implied
by this pair of concepts. The nature of the spiritual essences and their
relationship are seen better in the rites addressed to them. These will
be discussed later in Chapter 13. At this stage let me formulate the
relationship in this way:

Khwan is associated with life and the vicissitudes of life; winjan is
associated with death and the vicissitudes after death. Both are spiritual
essences that animate life; the khwan actively and the winjan passively, or
rather the former as a variable substance, the latter as permanent. Their
roles are reversed after death. The khwan dies for good (or becomes passive),
but the winjan disengages itself from its mortal coil and leads a separate
existence. If I may hazard the description of these concepts in terms of
psychological states in the English language, khwan relates to morale (the
Thai explanation of why khwan rites are performed is to confer `good
living and strength') and winjan to mind or consciousness (cit caj).

The Thai villager thus conceptually distinguishes two spiritual essences.
This duality does not fit into the simple `body/soul' dichotomy; if we
are to fit the Thai notions we can say that two aspects of the `soul' are
distinguished. While the villager makes the conceptual distinction, he
becomes highly inarticulate and vague if the anthropologist strives to
make him verbalize their respective properties. From the observer's
analytical point of view, the distinction becomes sharper when he analyses
the rites associated with khwan and winjan.

`Thewada' and `phii' (two opposed supernatural categories)

As verbal categories the words thewada and phii are habitually used by
villagers to refer to certain supernatural agents or personifications. The
two categories are in their general reference opposed: the thewada (devata)
are divine angels, benevolent in nature, and living in heaven (sawan); the
phii are malevolent agents, either free-floating, localized in the world of
human beings, or condemned to hell (narog).

This way of stating their characteristics immediately raises the question
of how thewada/phii concepts are linked with human ethical status—
bun/baab—and life/death. Now, in general, it is said that the winjan
of every individual turns into a phii at death. Phii, then, are after-death
phenomena. Villagers say that those persons who have lived a meritorious
life go to heaven, but this heaven is quite different from the heaven in
which thewada reside. A human being can never become a thewada; he
can go to heaven and he can then be reborn; thewada are never reborn.
This statement is quite different from the doctrinal position in Buddhism.
Humans who have lived a life of baab are condemned to hell or become
malevolent spirits living (disembodied) in this world. It would seem then
that if phii are pictured as after-death human phenomena, there is a basis
for their differentiation into kinds of phii, with characteristics ranging
from benevolence, prestige and responsible power to malevolence, notoriety
and caprice.

The basic opposition between thewada and phii emerges in village
ritual. Phii can punish people and cause illness or misfortune. The help
of the thewada is necessary to diagnose the malevolent agent and, depending
on the category of phii, either to placate him or exorcize him. Thus the
village diviner (mau song) always begins by inviting the thewada (pao-sakke)
to appear in his divining device and `force' the phii to appear. In this
instance the thewada, as good agents, are helping man to circumvent
misfortune. Normally, because thewada are opposed to phii, they do not
appear in the propitiatory or placatory rites addressed to the latter and
conducted by a specialist (cham). But they make their appearance again in
rites of exorcism as the enemies of afflicting malevolent spirits.

In ordinary village formulation the thewada constitute a relatively undifferentiated
category of divine benevolent agents. The classical cosmology
stated earlier postulates the existence of twenty-six heavens subdivided
into three kinds of loka. By and large such fine gradations are ignored in
the village. The accent is not on formulating a pantheon of hierarchically
ordered and named individual gods. To be sure, on specific ritual occasions,
or in reciting portions of mythology, the names of distinguished deities occur,
for example Phra In (Indra the ruler of the second heaven), the guardians,
Phra Prom (Brahma), and others characterized specifically as `female'
such as Nang Thoranee, the goddess of the earth. (For instance, Indra,
King of the second level of heavens (Dawadung) with his three-headed
elephant Erawan and his host of angels appears frequently in Thai legends,
and it is to his inspiration that the Thai attribute the Lak Inthapat, an old
law book.) But these personages are not ordered on a cognitive map;
rather they are activated by ritual or mythological context and therefore
I shall follow the thought patterns of the village and elucidate the attributes
of these personages when I deal with specific myths or rituals. In ordinary
dialogue the thewada belong to a single undifferentiated category. From
a comparative point of view this orientation of the Thai villagers of
Phraan Muan is dramatically different from that, say, of the Sinhalese
villagers, for whom a hierarchy of gods and their individuality is a sine
qua non of thought relating to the supernatural world (Obeyesekere 1966;
Yalman 1964).

There is one noteworthy divergence between the village and the classical
formulations of gods and godlings and malevolent spirits. In the classical
and doctrinal tradition both the deities and the inhabitants of the heavens,
and the demons and victims of the hells, are subject to rebirth and the
vagaries of karma; their status is not permanent. For the villagers, however,
the thewada are a permanent heavenly category of non-human origin.
In contrast the phii are visualized as beings who were formerly human—

the most elevated of them in the imagery of prestigious, powerful or
respected elderly human beings, the most malevolent as manifestations
of humans who have died violent deaths. Unlike the undifferentiated
thewada, the phii as a general category are highly differentiated and their
attributes extend from benevolent and disciplinary guardianship to extreme
capricious malevolence. The first type may then enjoy an elevated title
(e.g. Chao Phau = respected father) which makes them a mixture of both
thewada and phii. While in a general sense they are opposed, the border
line between phii and thewada may in actual fact be vague. This need
not necessarily mystify us because hierarchical positions and comparisons
are usually relative.

The incorporation of thewada into Buddhism and their role in expressing
Buddhist aspirations and ideals finds conspicuous demonstration in myths
and rituals current in Phraan Muan village. I have already described the
myth associated with the bodhisattva Maitreya who now lives in Tusita
heaven as a deity and will in time descend to earth as the next Buddha
and saviour. Some aspects of this myth are dramatized in Bun Phraawes,
which is the village's grandest annual festival.

Another legend which is known but not ritually dramatized in the
village (but is performed in Central Thailand) is that of the Buddha's
descent from heaven after preaching to his mother. The Buddha's mother
died seven days after his birth and thereby she was deprived of hearing
the truth from the lips of her own son. The Buddha, in compassion for
her, ascended in three steps to reach Indra's heaven to which his mother
had been transported, and there preached to her and the gods for three
months. Indra then devised three ladders to facilitate the Buddha's return
to earth. The centre ladder was made of seven precious substances—
gold, silver, coral, ruby, emerald and other gems. The Buddha descended
on this. To its right was a ladder of gold on which Indra descended,
blowing the conch and accompanied by his retinue of gods. To its left
was a ladder of silver by which Brahma and the other Brahma gods
descended, holding an umbrella over the Buddha. The three ladders
appeared to the people of the earth as three rainbows.

There are many other legends of the presence of the gods at sermons
given by the Buddha, and of their acclamation of the truth he preached.
The presence of thewada in rituals conducted in the village today thus
harks back to classical traditions.