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`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.