NOTE: Franz Boas (1862–1942)
was one of the defining figures in the history of American anthropology.
Born into a highly assimilated German Jewish family in Minden, before his
emigration to the United States in 1885 he studied mathematics, physics,
and geography at the universities of Heidelberg and Bonn; in 1881 he completed
a doctoral degree in physical anthropology at Kiel. Two years later, pursuing
his interests in this general area, he joined an expedition to Baffin Island
to investigate the effects of the arctic climate on patterns of native Inuit
migration. Boas was offered an editorship at the journal Science,
which brought him to the United States in 1885, and the following year he
undertook field work with the Kwakiutl Indians on the Northwest Pacific
Coast. His research ultimately led to an academic appointment at Clark University
in 1889, followed by positions at the Field Museum in Chicago and the American
Museum of Natural History in New York, where he spent ten years (1895–1905).
During those years, he also began teaching anthropology at Columbia, and
in 1899 was named the first professor of anthropology at the university;
there he remained for the next thirty-seven years, exercising an extraordinarily
wide influence. In 1906, he was invited by W.E.B. DuBois to give the commencement
address at Atlanta University, one of the first indications of his persistent
concern with larger social and racial issues. An active socialist, he challenged
immigration quotas and opposed the treatment of German Americans during
the First World War; in later years, he would express his opposition to
the rise of anti-Semitism, and to the ascendancy of the Nazi party, as well
as involving himself in numerous efforts in support of refugee scholars.
Boas’s principal writings include The Mind of Primitive Man
(1911), Primitive Art (1927), General Anthropology (1938),
and Race, Language, and Culture (1940). Among his many distinguished
students were Margaret Mead, Ruth Benedict, Alfred Kroeber, Zora Neale Hurston,
Paul Radin, Ashley Montagu, and Melville Herskovits, who published a biography
of his teacher in 1953. Over the course of his career, Boas wrote more than
six hundred articles. The essay presented below first appeared in the September
5, 1918 issue of The Dial.
Franz Boas
_____
The Mental Attitude of the Educated Classes
When we attempt to form our opinions in an intelligent manner, we are
inclined to accept the judgment of those who by their education and occupation
are compelled to deal with the questions at issue. We assume that their
views must be rational, and based on intelligent understanding of the
problems. The foundation of this belief is the tacit assumption not only
that they have special knowledge but also that they are free to form perfectly
rational opinions. However, it is easy to see there is no type of society
in existence in which such freedom exists.
I believe I can make my point clearest by
giving an example taken from the life of a people whose cultural conditions
are very simple. I will choose for this purpose the Eskimo. In their social
life they are exceedingly individualistic. The social group has so little
cohesion that we have hardly the right to speak of tribes. A number of
families come together and live in the same village, but there is nothing
to prevent any one of them from living and settling at another place with
other families. In fact during a period of a lifetime the families constituting
an Eskimo village community are constantly shifting about; and while they
generally return after many years to the place where their relatives live,
the family may have belonged to a great many different communities. There
is no authority vested in any individual, no chieftancy, and no method
by which orders, if they were given, could be carried out. In short, so
far as law is concerned, we have a condition of almost absolute anarchy.
We might therefore say that every single person is entirely free, within
the limits of his own mental ability, to determine his own mode of life
and his own mode of thinking. Nevertheless it is easily seen that there
are innumerable restrictions that determine his behavior. The Eskimo boy
learns how to handle the knife, how to use bow and arrow, how to hunt,
how to build a house; the girl learns how to sew and mend clothing and
how to cook; and during all their life they use their tools in the way
they learned in childhood. New inventions are rare, and the whole industrial
life of the people follows traditional channels. What is true of industrial
activities is no less true of their thoughts. Certain religious ideas
have been transmitted to them, notions as to what is right and wrong,
certain amusements, and enjoyment of certain types of art. Any deviation
from these is not likely to occur. At the same time it never enters into
their minds that any other way of thinking and acting would be possible,
and they consider themselves as perfectly free in regard to all their
actions. Based on our wider experience, we know that the industrial problems
of the Eskimo may be solved in a great many other ways and that their
religious traditions and social customs might be quite different from
what they are. From the outside, objective point of view we see clearly
the restrictions that bind the individual who considers himself free.
It is hardly necessary
to give many instances of these occurrences. It seems desirable however
to illustrate the great strength of these ideas that restrict the freedom
of thought of the individual, leading to the most serious mental struggles
when traditional social ethics come into conflict with instinctive reactions.
Thus among a tribe of Siberia we find a belief that every person will
live in the future life in the same condition in which he finds himself
at the time of death. As a consequence an old man who begins to be decrepit
wishes to die, in order to avoid life as a cripple in the endless future,
and it becomes the duty of his son to kill him. The son believes in the
righteousness of this command but at the same time feels the filial love
for his father, and many are the instances in which the son has to decide
between the two conflicting duties—the one imposed by the instinctive
filial love, the other imposed by the traditional custom of the tribe.
Another interesting
observation may be deduced from those somewhat more complex societies
in which there is a distinction between different social classes. We find
such a condition, for instance, in North America, among the Indians of
British Columbia, in which a sharp distinction is made between people
of noble birth and common people. In this case the traditional behavior
of the two classes shows considerable differences. The social tradition
that regulates the life of the nobility is somewhat analogous to the social
tradition of our society. A great deal of stress is laid upon the strict
observance of convention and upon display, and nobody can maintain his
position in high society without an adequate amount of ostentation and
without strict regard for conventional conduct. These requirements are
so fundamental that on overbearing conceit and a contempt for the common
people become social requirements of an important chief. The contrast
between the social proprieties for the nobility and those for the common
people is very striking. Of the common people are expected humbleness,
mercy, and all those qualities that we consider amiable and humane.
Similar observations
may be made in all those cases in which, by a complex tradition, a social
class is set off from the mass of the people. The chiefs of the Polynesian
Islands, the kings in Africa, the medicine men of all countries present
examples in which a social group’s line of conduct and of thought
is strongly modified by their segregation from the mass of the people.
On the whole, in societies of this type, the mass of the people consider
as their ideal those actions which we should characterize as humane; not
by any means that all their actions conform to humane conduct, but their
valuation of men shows that the fundamental altruistic principles which
we recognize are recognized by them too. Not so with the privileged classes.
In place of the general humane interest the class interest predominates;
and while it would be wrong to say that their conduct is selfish, it is
always so shaped that the interest of the class to which they belong prevails
over the interest of society as a whole. If it is necessary to secure
rank and to enhance the standing of the family by killing a number of
enemies, there is no hesitation felt in taking life. If the interests
of the class require oppression of the rest of the people, then they are
oppressed. If the interest of the class requires that its members would
not perform menial occupations but should devote themselves to art or
learning, then all the members of the class will vie with one another
in the attainment of these achievements. It is for this reason that every
segregated class is much more strongly influenced by special traditional
ideas than is the mass of the people; not that the multitude is free to
think rationally and that its behavior is not determined by tradition,
but that the tradition is not so specific, not so strictly determined
in its range, as in the case of the segregated classes. For this reason
it is often found that the restriction of freedom of thought by convention
is greater in what we might call the educated classes than in the mass
of the people.
I
believe this observation is of great importance when we try to understand
conditions in our own society. Its bearing upon the problem of the psychological
significance of nationalism will at once be apparent; for the nation is
also a segregated class, albeit segregated according to other principles;
and the characteristic feature of nationalism is that its social ethical
standards are considered as more fundamental than those that are general
and human, or rather that the members of each nation like to assume that
their ideals are or should be the true ideals of mankind. At the same
time it illustrates clearly that we should make a fundamental mistake
if we should confound class selfishness and individual selfishness; for
we find the most splendid examples of unselfish devotion to the interests
of the nation, heroism that has been rightly praised for thousands of
years as the highest virtue, and it is difficult to realize that nevertheless
the whole history of mankind points in the direction of a human
ideal as opposed to a national ideal. And indeed may we not continue
to admire the self-sacrifice of a great mind, even if we transcend to
ideals that were not his, and that perhaps, owing to the time and place
in which he lived, could not be his?
Our
observation has also another important application. The industrial and
economic development of modern times has brought about a differentiation
within our population that has never been equaled in any primitive society.
The occupations of the various parts of a modern European or American
population differ enormously; so much so, that in many cases it is almost
impossible for people speaking the same language to understand one another
when they talk about their daily work. The ideas with which the scientist,
the artist, the tradesman, the business man, the laborer operate are so
distinctive that they have only a few fundamental elements in common.
Here it may again be observed that those occupations which are intellectually
or emotionally most highly specialized require the longest training, and
training always means an infusion of historically transmitted ideas. It
is therefore not surprising that the thought of what we call the educated
classes is controlled essentially by those ideals which have been transmitted
to us by past generations. These ideals are always highly specialized,
and include the ethical tendencies, the aesthetic inclinations, the intellectuality,
and the expression of volition, of past times. Their control may find
expression in a dominant tone which determines our whole mode of thought
and which, for the very reason that it has come to be ingrained into our
whole mentality, never rises into our consciousness.
In
those cases in which our reaction is more conscious, it is either positive
or negative. Our thoughts may be based on a high valuation of the past,
or they may be a revolt against it. When we bear this in mind we may understand
the characteristics of the behavior of the intellectuals. It is a mistake
to assume that their mentality is, on the average, appreciably higher
than that of the rest of the people. Perhaps a greater number of independent
minds find their way into this group than into some other group of individuals
who are moderately well-to-do; but their average mentality is surely in
no way superior to that of the workingmen, who by the conditions of their
youth have been compelled to subsist on the produce of their manual labor.
In both groups mediocrity prevails; unusually strong and unusually weak
individuals are exceptions. For this reason the strength of character
and intellect that is required for vigorous thought on matters in which
intense sentiments are involved is not commonly found—either among
the intellectuals or in any other part of the population. This condition,
combined with the thoroughness with which the intellectuals have imbibed
the traditions of the past, makes the majority of them in all nations
conventional. It has the effect that their thoughts are based on tradition,
and that the range of their vision is liable to be limited. Even the apparent
exception of the Russian intellectuals, who have been brought up under
the influence of West European ideas, does not contradict our general
conclusion.
There
are of course strong minds among the intellectuals who rise above the
conventionalism of their class, and attain that freedom that is the reward
of a courageous search for truth, along whatever path it may lead.
In
contrast to the intellectuals, the masses in our modern city populations
are less subject to the influence of traditional teaching. They are torn
away from school before it can make an indelible impression upon their
minds and they may never have known the strength of the conservative influence
of a home in which parents and children live a common life. The more heterogeneous
the society in which they live, and the more the constituent groups are
free from historic influences, or the more they represent different historic
traditions, the less strongly will they be attached to the past.
It
would be an exaggeration if we should extend this view over all aspects
of human life. I am speaking here only of those fundamental concepts of
right and wrong that develop in the segregated classes and in the masses.
In a society in which beliefs are transmitted with great intensity the
impossibility of treating calmly the views and actions of the heretic
is shared by both groups. When, through the progress of scientific thought,
the foundations of dogmatic belief are shaken among the intellectuals
and not among the masses, we find the conditions reversed and greater
freedom of traditional forms of thought among the intellectuals—at
least in so far as the current dogma is involved. It would also be an
exaggeration to claim that the masses can sense the right way of attaining
the realization of their ideals, for these must be found by painful experience
and by the application of knowledge. However, neither of these restrictions
touches our main contention, namely, that the desires of the masses are
in a wider sense more human than those of the classes.
It
is therefore not surprising that the masses of the people—whose
attachment to the past is comparatively slight and who work—respond
more quickly and more energetically to the urgent demands of the hour
than the educated classes, and that the ethical ideals of the best among
them are human ideals, not those of a segregated class. For this reason
I should always be more inclined to accept, in regard to fundamental human
problems, the judgment of the masses rather than the judgment of the intellectuals,
which is much more certain to be warped by unconscious control of traditional
ideas. I do not mean to say that the judgment of the masses would be acceptable
in regard to every problem of human life, because there are many which,
by their technical nature, are beyond their understanding. Nor do I believe
that the details of the right solution of a problem can always be found
by the masses; but I feel strongly that the problem itself, as felt by
them, and the ideal that they want to see realized, is a safer guide for
our conduct than the ideal of the intellectual group that stands under
the ban of an historical tradition that dulls their feeling for the needs
of the day.
One
word more, in regard to what might be a fatal misunderstanding of my meaning.
If I decry unthinking obedience to the ideals of our forefathers, I am
far from believing that it will ever be possible, or that it will even
be desirable, to cast away the past and to begin anew on a purely intellectual
basis. Those who think that this can be accomplished do not, I believe,
understand human nature aright. Our very wishes for changes are based
on criticism of the past, and would take another direction if the conditions
under which we live were of a different nature. We are building up our
new ideals by utilizing the work of our ancestors, even where we condemn
it, and so it will be in the future. Whatever our generation may achieve
will attain in course of time that venerable aspect that will lay in chains
the minds of the great mass of our successors and it will require new
efforts to free a future generation of the shackles that we are forging.
When we once recognize this process, we must see that it is our task not
only to free ourselves of traditional prejudice, but also to search in
the heritage of the past for what is useful and right, and to endeavor
to free the mind of future generations so that they may not cling to our
mistakes, but may be ready to correct them.
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