The Zapotec woman spoke insightfully: “I feel that we have deep roots as an indigenous town, which has changed over time, it’s true, but [it] is still very rooted in our values, in solidarity, brotherhood, in community work.” Carmen Alonso Santiago, director of the Zapotec NGO Flor y Canto (Flower and Song) in Mexico’s Oaxaca state, added that their culture is transmitted through education, and that women are the major teachers.

Zapotec women in TeotitlanMs. Santiago was quoted extensively in a lengthy article last week in Truthout.org, the latest in their series of articles on the indigenous people of the state, with a special focus on the Zapotec. A piece last month described the ramifications of the traditional, indigenous social and political system in Oaxaca called “uses and customs.” The current article extends that analysis to explore the effects of emigration, primarily of male workers to the United States, on the people left behind in the indigenous communities of Oaxaca. That is, the effects on women of the absence of many men.

The figures the article opens with are startling. Oaxaca has a population estimated at 3.1 million; 2 million people from that state live in the U.S. The majority of the emigrants from the state come from indigenous communities and they work as laborers in industries such as agriculture, construction, restaurants, and domestic service. About 98 percent of the emigrants work in the U.S., especially in California, Arizona, and Texas.

The reason that the men leave is to find work so they can send remittances back to their home communities and support their families. Oaxaca is second from the poorest state in Mexico, and while migrants from the state have been moving north since the 1960s, the North American Free Trade Agreement, which went into effect in 1994, made matters worse for the indigenous communities. Imported corn became cheaper than the locally-grown grain, undercutting the local farming economy and resulting in the partial abandonment of the rural countryside.

The thrust of the current article is to explore the effects of this economic transformation on rural, Zapotec society, particularly on the social lives of the women with the men largely gone. Ms. Santiago argues that it is the cargos—the voluntary responsibilities assumed by citizens within the uses and customs system—which the women are assuming in the absence of men that is altering the gendered nature of their society. The departure of the men is forcing the women to assume greater obligations, but it is also offering them more opportunities to strengthen their roles in their communities.

Truthout interviewed Pastora Gutiérrez Reyes, a woman who has been a leader in the Zapotec town of Teotitlán del Valle for many years. Lynn Stephen devoted several pages in her book Zapotec Women (2005) to a portrayal of her, and the current news report provides an update on Ms. Gutiérrez Reyes’ perceptions of the roles of women in the community, which is very well known for its weaving.

Ms. Gutiérrez Reyes describes graphically how the women coped, as wives and widows of men who had emigrated, by forming a cooperative group called Vida Nueva. Even the boys were leaving as soon as they finished middle schools, she said. “Our group formed as a way to find options for work. That’s how we started to work in the fields and to weave.”

Gutiérrez Reyes describes how one thing led to another. At first, the point of the cooperative was to help the women get fair prices for their weavings but it led to their working together to promote other common concerns: opposition to drug use, health issues, sexuality, and self-esteem. She tells the journalists that a lot has happened in the 17 years since the formation of the cooperative.

At the beginning, the women received a lot of criticism from the men, just for organizing the cooperative. Her spunk comes through clearly in this current article: “Can you imagine a group of women organizing ourselves 17 years ago? Women couldn’t even leave the town,” she says.

She continues by relating how the women have gradually taken initiatives in Teotitlán del Valle, pressuring the male authorities to allow them to participate in the assemblies. As some women began to participate, others saw what they were doing and decided to try and take a more active role in the town also. She says that the women whose husbands are away, or deceased, tend to be the most active, and she seems proud that they are now invited to official or political events by town leaders.

Furthermore, women now can assume the voluntary cargos. More than that, the men in Teotitlán are seeing positive results of the growing activity of the women, and they are accepting it. Today, Gutiérrez Reyes concludes, “there is a little more equality.”

Ms. Santiago cautions that the situation in one Zapotec town should not be generalized to others, for the conditions of indigenous women vary widely. The reason is that the uses and customs vary from one town to the next. In some, women are still not permitted to run for political office, while in others they are. In some, women are not allowed to speak out in the municipal assemblies, but in others, they not only vote, they participate.

The investigation by the authors bears out her contention. A publication from the National Human Rights Commission of Mexico indicated that of the 361 municipalities in Oaxaca that governed themselves by the uses and customs conventions, 62.7 percent allowed women to vote, but 15.8 percent did not. In others, only married women, or only single women, or only widows could vote.

Truthout summarizes the situation: women are slowly taking roles in their communities, but more as members of committees than as leaders in official positions. One prominent exception cited by the article is Eufrosina Cruz Mendoza, the young Zapotec woman who was elected to a local political office in 2007 but the male authority figures in her town vetoed the election results because she was a female, an action that received widespread publicity. She is now serving in a prominent state office as the President of the Directive Body of the State Congress of Oaxaca.

This excellent Truthout.org article concludes with more wisdom from Ms.Santiago, who says that, within the well-defined cultural roles of the traditional Zapotec communities, “It is [the] women who are pushing a process to raise their level of participation.”

Bessi, Renata and Santiago Navarro F. 2014. “As Men Emigrate, Indigenous Women Gain Political Opportunities and Obligations in Mexico,” translated by Mirriam Taylor. Truthout (Monday, 18 August).

Nunatsiaq News reported last week that an Iqaluit filmmaker named Alethea Arnaquq-Baril has just produced a dramatic romance film about the abandoned Inuit practice of multiple spouses. The filmmaker told the paper that the practice ended with colonization, but it appears from her comments as if she has been able to gain enough information from elderly people to develop a story.

Inuit couple in 1924The drama, “Aviliaq,” is set in Canada’s Eastern Arctic in the 1950s. The term “aviliaq” referred to a spouse or a partner and was used commonly when plural marriages existed in Inuit society. “The root of the word is kind of like saying your other half,” she said.

She told the paper that she heard different things about the custom of multiple marriages from her various sources. Some informed her that plural marriages were founded on loving relationships, while others told her stories of second wives being abused or even treated as slaves.

The filmmaker herself was not trying to make a statement about plural marriage one way or the other—she simply wanted to explore the culture of the times that made them possible. She said she was also interested in probing how and why plural marriages were abolished. She wonders if the social changes of the mid-20th century could have been handled “a little more tactfully.”

Her website provides more of her thinking about the need for films about Inuit society. She writes that since the Inuit have had primarily an oral culture, written materials in the Inuktitut language have been slow to catch on. And perhaps worse, outsiders have been the ones to record the lives of the people.

She founded her company, Unikkaat Studios, as a way documenting, through the medium of film, Inuit culture. She feels that there is a great deal to do, a lot of records need to be made and traditions preserved, while elders are still alive who lived in a traditional fashion out on the land. “Filmmaking is such a natural and easy way for Inuit to do this important work,” she writes. It is an effective medium of communication for an oral culture.

She posted an appeal on July 25 on her website asking for assistance for the production of the new drama, which she had scheduled for shooting on August 1 – 4. She already had her main actors lined up, but she wrote that she needed a couple of adult supporting actors and a couple children to play minor roles.

She also wrote that she was looking for help with some of the decorative needs for the set: 1950s-era oil lamps, blankets, house dresses, hip waders, and other such pieces of clothing. She also needed to borrow three boats, two of which would be shown on the beach, but one of which would go briefly out into the water. She writes that she has a very small, local production company and was hoping for the free use of the boats for a few hours, but she could pay a small fee if necessary.

In one of her major works on Inuit marriages, Briggs (1974) emphasized the warm, affectionate nature of traditional husband wife relationships. Both spouses were convinced that the work of the other was indispensable—the camp could not survive without the hunting skills of the man, nor the cooking and sewing skills of the woman. And in the privacy of their homes, the anthropologist observed, couples frequently had close, companionable relations.

While Briggs (1974) does provide some information about earlier patterns of Inuit spouse exchanges and their taking of extra-marital lovers, it sounds from the news report last week as if Arnaquq-Baril, with her fictional exploration of plural marriages, is adding some important perceptions to our understanding of traditional Inuit relationships. And significantly, the filmmaker will bring an Inuit perspective to the discussion. Her 10 minute film will be premiered at the ImagineNATIVE film festival in Toronto, which is scheduled to open on October 22.

Changes occur in all societies, and while many of the peaceful peoples have been able to retain some—or most—of their nonviolent values and practices, very few of them remain static. One of the purposes of these weekly news columns is to trace the changes that do occur, even if events are sometimes less than “peaceful.” A violent episode occurred in a Yanadi community last week, reported with somewhat differing details by two stories in the Indian media.

Kuppam Hospital in IndiaThe New Indian Express reported last Thursday that an 18-year old Yanadi girl, whom the paper did not name, was attacked by a 22-year old male, named Bhupathi, for refusing his advances. He found her alone in her hut and, after repeated attempts to court her, each of which she refused, he shot her legs with a “country-made revolver.” Her screams brought other villagers, then the police. She was taken to a hospital in the nearby town of Kuppam, presumably the PES Medical College Hospital, where she is in stable condition.

The attack occurred in Ramakuppam mandal, a Yanadi colony in Chittoor District of Andhra Pradesh. The girl, daughter of B. Shanmugam, a seller of forest products, consistently refused the advances of the would-be suitor. Instead of accepting her negative responses, he continued pestering and harassing her.

After three months, she told her parents. Shanmugam spoke to the young man, asking him to leave his daughter alone. A few days before the attack, other villagers gave the man a thrashing for harassing the girl. On Wednesday last week, while she was alone in the house, he approached once again and asked her to accept his advances. She again refused, and warned him to stop the stalking.

Very angry, he left but returned with his gun, threatening her if she didn’t yield to him. She again refused, so Bhupathi opened fire, aiming for her legs. He fled the scene as the local people responded to the commotion. Police said that some Yanadi possess weapons for hunting wild animals such as boars.

A news story in The Hindu indicated that the girl is named Satya and she is a 16-year old school dropout. She has been consistently turning down the advances of Bhupati (as the paper spelled his name) for several months. That paper says that she was taking care of some cattle last Wednesday when Bhupati forced her to accompany him to a temple, where he tried to get her to agree to marry him.

When she started to call for help from her parents, he pulled out a gun and opened fire. Nearly a half dozen pellets hit her legs. A police official reported that the parents had lodged a complaint against Bhupati, who has since been arrested.

Recent works on the Yanadi, such as the books by Stanley Jaya Kumar (1995) and Rao (2002), don’t provide much helpful background on this particular situation. An older, classic anthropology by Raghaviah (1962) is more useful, though it is getting quite out of date. That author wrote, for instance, that the Yanadi do not pursue settled agricultural work, wandering from place to place in search of suitable food and living conditions.

Clearly, that information is dated. The people in the news story last week are settled in a colony and, according to the one account, Satya was tending cattle when the attacker approached her. But her father, according to the other account, still makes a living by selling natural products he gathers in the forest. So it is clear that while the people in this colony are settled, some still subsist at least partly on gathering activities.

Raghaviah’s book provides information about their social life that also appears to be no longer as applicable as it was 50 years ago. He wrote that the Yanadis never commit crimes of passion, and they are infrequently involved in petty crimes such as cheating. They rarely are confined to jail, and they do not defy established authority. They will always be truthful and honest to any police investigators, even if they may suffer as a consequence.

Furthermore, the author indicates that Yanadi women are as free as men to shift their sex relations to other men when they feel estranged from their spouses. Their relationships are characterized by tenderness, responsiveness, and mildness. Finally, he said that they do not act violently, no matter what the provocation.

Presuming that Raghaviah was accurate in his assessments half a century ago, one can suspect that the settling of the Yanadi into permanent communities may be one of the factors contributing to the breakdown, at least in this case, of their formerly peaceful lifestyle.

The Chewong believe that their forest is composed not only of humans but of a wide range of sentient beings, all of which live by rules that prescribe correct behavior. Their myths, songs, and stories describe their forest world, the ways they understand it, and how those understandings develop the rules that guide the behavior of the “people”—both human and non-human—that live in it.

Handbook of Contemporary AnimismSigne Howell describes the Chewong concepts of reality in the forests of Peninsular Malaysia in an essay she included in the work The Handbook of Contemporary Animism, published last year in the UK. She analyzes the role of animism in their society, which is at the center of their system of beliefs. Her explanation helps clarify why the Chewong are so highly nonviolent.

According to Howell, the animistic beliefs of the Chewong include the conviction that all conscious beings—human and non-human alike—are “people” who have to interrelate in what she calls “a common moral universe (p.106).” This idea requires most living beings, in their scheme of things, to be mutually interdependent.

Howell explains this in more detail. Sentient beings, to the Chewong, not only live in a single moral cosmos, they follow universal principles that mandate proper behaviors in the context of their social order. An effective understanding of the rules of conduct is essential for surviving in the forest world. Humans and the other “people” interact according to social rules based on their correct understanding of the cosmos. Furthermore, the socialization that occurs among humans and the forest beings implies that there are wide-ranging social and moral realities. In essence, the animism of the Chewong suggests that forest beings, which of course include humans, are required to have reciprocal moral relationships.

In addition, since the Chewong and the other forest beings possess consciousness, ruwai, they are not only characterized as persons, they are also all thought to be equal. And this too is important: the Chewong myths, stories and songs about the universe, which describe the behaviors required to get along, must be understood as very real to the Chewong rather than simply as symbolic.

But while a correct knowledge of the rules of behavior is essential for surviving in the forest world, the relevance of that knowledge is limited only to their own specific, Chewong situation. That is, humans live in a bounded location, and their cosmology is restricted to their own universe. Their rules, based on their knowledge of the cosmos, do not prevent them from using the forest and its resources to their own advantage.

Howell strives to make her explanation clear. The Chewong realize that the common moral universe does not disguise the obvious—that different species of “people”—humans, frogs, whatever— have different characteristics, what the humans think of as their “cloaks.” Those cloaks are special bodies that may be taken off and put on as necessary by shamans. When individuals are cloaked in the person of another species but neglect to behave as their natures indicate they should, metamorphosis occurs.

The Chewong may think of all the animate beings in the forest in a unifying fashion, but at the same time they realize that each species is different, and each has a different point of view from the other. The composite world may have common behavioral standards, but at the same time they have many different natures.

As Howell describes it, the moral, behavioral rule is what matters to the Chewong. The universality of that value underscores the validity of their belief. Readers of Howell’s essay may find it difficult to understand and interpret the basic value systems of such a different culture as that of the Chewong, but it is worth the effort.

In order to clarify her explanations, the author describes one of the myths of the Chewong. It concerns a young man who went to a river to fetch some water. While filling his container, he accidently caught frog woman. She soon became his wife and they had a couple children.

The man’s parents moved in with their son and his family but in time they had trouble. When the mother-in-law saw the way the children were swimming and frolicking in the water, she became agitated and called them “frog children.” They reported this to their mother, who became angry in turn and took her children with her back to the frog world in the river.

When the young man learned what had happened, he too went to the river and joined his family in the frog house. The grandfather went to the river the next day, but while he could hear his grandchildren calling to him, he couldn’t see them. He did not have the right kind of eyes to perceive the frog-human kids.

Howell explains that the young man, named Bongso, clearly had shamanistic characteristics of his own with his ability to move from a human cloak to that of the frog. But the myth, like so many others told by the Chewong, points out the fact that the divisions between the human world and the non-human are not at all absolute, and the boundaries are not necessarily firm. Those worlds exist in parallel and, at times, one within the other.

The frog woman may have threshed rice for her family, but she did so as a frog might have done, by rubbing the grains against her thighs. The story implies that life in the frog house in the river is carried on more or less as it is in the human house with the parents-in-law. That universality of the basics of living suggests that the moral values supporting all sentient life are very wide reaching indeed.

Howell, Signe. 2013. “Metamorphosis and Identity: Chewong Animistic Ontology.” In The Handbook of Contemporary Animism, edited by Graham Harvey, p.101-112. Durham, UK: Acumen

The Lepchas, like most of the peaceful societies, are frequently stressed by changing cultural, social and economic forces, some of which affect their patterns of nonviolence. Anita Sharma published a book last year that seeks to enrich our understanding of, and appreciation for, those changes Lepcha society. A major goal of her work is to update the classic ethnography by Geoffrey Gorer, Himalayan Village, which was based on his three months of field research there in 1937.

Anita Sharma, The Lepchas in Dzongu Region in SikkimSharma did her field research in the Dzongu Reserve in northern Sikkim, the heartland of Lepcha country, from September through November 2003. One major topic she reviews is their traditional approaches to resolving conflicts, and the ways they handle disputes today.

Traditionally, quarrels that erupted for no clear reason were considered to be the work of evil spirits. Gorer described how they held elaborate annual rituals in monasteries where they would exorcise those spirits from their communities. The rituals sought to destroy the spirits of enmity of speech, enmity of thought, and enmity of action. However, those rituals are no longer being performed in Dzongu.

In the past, on a practical level, a village official called a Gyapon would use all his wiles to resolve conflicts. If his tact did not work, he might order the parties to a dispute to prepare chi and get ready to spend huge amounts of money. He might threaten to impose large fines on them, naming sums of money far beyond their resources in an attempt to scare them into settling their issues. If the offenders were sufficiently frightened at that prospect, he would soften, settle for smaller amounts, and after they paid those fines, they could all eat and drink together.

Today, however, conflicts that cannot be settled within families or the larger patrilineal groupings are referred to ad hoc groups of village elders who attempt to resolve them. Only rarely is the local conflict resolution so unsuccessful that a dispute has to be referred to the next larger government level, the panchayat.

When a dispute is in fact referred to a panchayat, its members will take it seriously, investigate the intricacies of the issues, and reach solutions. It would be a stain on the community for the problem to have to be referred up to the next higher level of government, the court in Mangan, which is the administrative center of Dzongu.

Theft and crime, Sharma found, are rare in Dzongu, though petty thievery, such as stealing raincoats, umbrellas, and slippers, is increasing. In the remote villages, people rarely lock their doors. Theft remains an alien aspect of life. Lying—perjury—is considered to be a very serious crime, one which casts a permanent stain on a family’s reputation.

Another Lepcha issue that the author reviews carefully is changing gender relationships. Sharma finds that the status of women has declined somewhat since Gorer’s time, most likely due to the influence of Hindu beliefs and practices from the rest of India. But women in Lepcha society still are highly valued. Men and women are paid equally when they work together in communal work parties, though while men are permitted to perform any of the work projects that women do, women will never do the ploughing instead of a man.

While a woman is normally not the head of a family, within the nuclear family, men and women share in making decisions and are considered to be generally equal. Overall, though, women now have subordinate positions in their society compared to men. Nonetheless, the author maintains, women lead a “reasonably democratic existence (p.77)” as they continue to participate in many decisions about economic and social issues in their homes and communities.

Women are religiously prohibited from sacrificing animals, but for Lepchas who still follow the traditional Bon religion, the female Mon (the priestess) has more status and power than the male priest, the Bongthing. Traditionally, the birth of a boy baby prompted the family to sacrifice a pig, goat, or ox, but not the birth of a girl.

In former times, the Lepchas had a casual attitude toward female family members having sex. Presuming an unmarried girl did not get pregnant, the male members of her family didn’t pay much attention to her liaisons—they exhibited little if any jealousy. Things are different today. People are now much more restricted in talking about sex than they once were, and mothers feel a need to control the sexual activities of their daughters. However, Sharma writes, “Lepcha women assert their independence within their domain and do not seem to take kindly to overbearing male dominance (p.80).”

At the present time, people in Dzongu emphasize monogamy more than they used to. Also, marriages of very young girls are much less common now than they were in the past, and instead of the traditional negotiations and arrangements between families, young adults often elope. The economic costs for couples who do elect to have traditional marriages are also now reduced. The popular media prompt many Lepchas to be ashamed of their traditional social conventions.

In sum, Gorer described women as often being more self-assured than men. This status—of comparable worth—has been replaced, at least to some extent, by a Hindu-inspired social order in which men are viewed as having superior power and social standing, Sharma argues.

The Lepchas define themselves not as individuals but as members of a group. They rarely dramatize or show their emotions. They gain approval from their peers through passive behavior rather than self-assertion, which helps dampen manifestations of aggression or competition.

Sharma adds that the Lepchas are well known for their truthfulness and mildness. They are also known for not exhibiting strong emotions. They respect the needs of others for privacy and personal space. They are normally a very patient people—they frequently chastised the author if she seemed to be in too much of a hurry.

She concludes that, despite the changes in Lepcha society, they retain their egalitarian beliefs. She writes that “it would not be out of line to add that their intrinsic principles of simplicity, equality, joy and hospitality have been largely retained (p.76-77).”

Sharma, Anita. 2013. The Lepchas of Dzongu Region in Sikkim: A Narrative of Cultural Heritage and Folklore. New Delhi: The Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage and Aryan Books International

A high court in Botswana dismissed a case the government had brought against four San men accused of hunting in the Central Kalahari Game Reserve. The men, some of whom may have been G/wi, escaped a possible penalty of up to five years in prison.

San children in the KalahariAccording to a report by Innocent Tshukudu published on August 5 in The Voice, a Botswana newspaper, the men supposedly had been seen personally by President Ian Khama in April 2012 while he was flying in his airplane over the CKGR. The president was on a hunting trip. Mongwegi Gaoberekwe, Mohame Belesa, Thoama Tsenene and Dipuisano Mongwegi were apprehended by police, who confiscated their personal possessions: bows and arrows, spears, and livestock.

The men said that they were unaware that it was illegal to hunt on their land—they were just trying to feed their families. They were represented in court by attorney Monamo Aobakwe of Duma Boko and Company. That Botswana law firm has been representing the San in their conflicts with the government since the English attorney Gordon Bennett, who had won several earlier favorable decisions against the government, was barred from the country just over a year ago.

Mr. Bennett had represented the San people in a major victory in the Botswana courts in 2006, which overturned the government’s earlier attempt to force the people completely out of their historic lands in the Kalahari Desert, where they have lived for millennia. Despite that court ruling—that the San people must be allowed to live and hunt in the CKGR—the government, under President Khama, imposed a complete ban on their hunting as of January this year.

His government’s policy does permit, however, hunting at private game reserves that are patronized by wealthy trophy hunters. Police and wildlife agents have intimidated and arrested scores of San hunters and, according to the reporter, it has imposed a “shoot-to-kill” policy against suspected poachers.

Survival International, a major human rights NGO headquartered in London, also reported the court victory. SI has consistently supported the San people in their ongoing struggles against the various repressive measures taken by the government of Botswana. The organization quoted Attorney Monamo Aobakwe as saying that his clients “are all overjoyed at the ruling.” He went on to express appreciation to SI for their continuing, essential help in trying to secure freedom and justice for the G/wi and the other San people.

Two scholars at the University of Laval wondered if money could buy happiness, a seemingly trivial question but one that can have serious implications for people such as the Inuit who live on the fringes of modern affluence. Their investigation, presented in a journal article last August, focused on the ethics of human happiness. What is the value of capital accumulation to people? Does material consumption make us happier? And, the essence of their research, what factors foster, for the Inuit at least, a sense of well-being?

Inuit women who appear to be happyThe article by Roberson Édouard and Gérard Duhaime opens by posing the questions that trouble them and that provide the impetus for their research. They developed their ideas in response to a fundamental question posed by Amartya Sen, the well-known Indian economist: what are the basic purposes of wealth? Sen answered that economics has both practical and ethical implications, and he deplored the fact that so many economists ignore the ethics of their field.

In essence, readers are asked, aren’t people more than just platforms for displaying the wealth they accumulate, or, the converse, creatures designed to lament their lack of prosperity? The authors effectively defined happiness as “a general perception of the meaning of life, a subjective synthetic assessment of the quality of life as a whole (p.375).” They wanted to find out how much economic issues contribute to Inuit feelings of happiness, and they based their investigation on the premise that the best, most accurate, measures of their sense of well-being are the feelings that the people themselves have expressed.

The scholars believe that well-being can be conceived of in terms of three different dimensions: having, loving, and being. Having is the concept of possessing material goods, as measured by wealth, housing conditions, income, employment, levels of achievement, and medical issues. Loving is a term that implies human relationships, belonging, and the associated feelings of connectedness. Being refers to individual senses of balance and personal worthiness. The authors hypothesized that the loving dimension would more effectively define Inuit senses of happiness than the having dimension.

They based their investigation on several large-scale population samples that included the Inuit: the Aboriginal Peoples Survey, supplemented by the Survey of Living conditions in the Arctic, and the Canadian censuses. They examined detailed data from a representative sample of 10,775 Inuit, and they particularly focused on 5,144 Inuit adults over 15 years of age.

Édouard and Duhaime present their results in several detailed tables, but it is worth summarizing a few of their points since they should be of interest to anyone trying to understand the ways the Inuit view themselves and their environment. A reader might have suspected some of their points before studying the article: for instance, that being unemployed has a serious impact on the feelings of satisfaction of the Inuit.

Perhaps also not surprising is the fact that Inuit with stronger ties to their families are the ones who are more satisfied with life. In fact, people with effective family ties are nearly twice as likely to feel happy as those without good connections with relatives. But, of much greater surprise, is their finding that while the support of extended family is important, participation in traditional activities seems to have little impact on Inuit feelings of satisfaction.

Educational levels relate to feelings of happiness in somewhat strange ways. Illiterate people are four times more likely to feel satisfied than those who can read, but Inuit who have gone beyond the secondary level of schooling are more likely to be happy than those who have not. Inuit who speak two languages—Inuktitut as well as another—are more likely to be happy than those who speak just their own native tongue.

Surprisingly, the authors have to conclude from their complex analyses of their data that the “being” dimension predicts the feelings of happiness better than the having or loving dimensions. “In other words,” they write, “what the Inuit ‘ARE’ contributes more to their happiness than … what they ‘HAVE’ or what they ‘LOVE’ (p.389).” The flip side of that conclusion, however, is that while economic achievement may not lead to satisfaction with life for the Inuit, the lack thereof may be a significant predictor of a sense of despair.

Money is essential to the Inuit, the authors state. Might as well be clear. Financial wealth, even in remote Inuit communities, fosters many other essential aspects of life, such as housing, food, health, safety, traditional activities, memberships in local groups, and leisure activities. A lack of financial resources can certainly lead to unhappiness, but Inuit who have material goods are not necessarily satisfied with life.

The authors make another effective point. They argue that the very act of highlighting their social problems and the unfavorable daily living conditions that some of them endure itself can have an adverse effect on their sense of well-being. The government, media, and scholarly portrayals of the Inuit as a society that is in distress—people who are rife with suicides, violence, and alcoholism—may have the unintended effect of developing negative consequences. That is, the focus on problems may help repress Inuit feelings of happiness. Furthermore, the tendency to professionalize Inuit social issues—experts are needed to treat their problems—may hinder their capacity to take care of their own concerns.

The final paragraph in this outstanding article exemplifies the wisdom of the authors, and is worth quoting in part: “Family is an institution that is fundamental to the happiness of the Inuit. The strength of family ties and the solidarity of the extended family act as levers in the improvement of their feeling of happiness. There is nothing surprising about this, because the bases of the social ties among the Inuit have always been associated with the family as an institution (p.390).”

Édouard, Roberson and Gérard Duhaime. 2013. “The Well-Being of the Canadian Arctic Inuit: The Relevant Weight of Economy in the Happiness Equations.” Social Indicators Research 113(1), August: 373-392.

Reuters recently interviewed an Ohio Amish couple who have returned to their homes after nearly a year in prison, to which they were sentenced as a result of their hate crimes. Kathryn and Raymond Miller, from Bergholz, Ohio, had participated with 14 others in attacks on several other Amish people in northeastern Ohio under the direction of Sam Mullet, the bishop of the group.

Bucolic Eastern Ohio Amish CountryIn 2011, the attackers had invaded the homes of Amish families that had not agreed with Mr. Mullet’s orders and had roughly cut the hair and shaved the beards of their victims. Mr. Mullet and his followers were convicted in U.S. federal court of hate crimes. He was sent to prison for 15 years, while the others were sentenced to one to seven years. The story about the prison experiences of Mr. and Mrs. Miller was released by Reuters early last week.

The year in prison was evidently challenging to both of them, and they still have difficult issues to confront. The Amish normally do not have telephones in their homes, but Mr. Miller has to have one. He is on probation and he has to make daily phone calls to his probation officer. He complained that he gets frequent calls from sales personnel trying to sell them things. He says he can’t wait to get rid of the phone line. He also has to wear an electronic ankle monitor at all times, even while he is mowing his hay.

He evidently had a hard time in prison getting used to having a lot of free time, something that the Amish do not encourage. “I read, played softball and played pool. I liked pool and I was pretty good at it,” he told the reporter.

He said, perhaps tongue-in-cheek, that they might want to put a pool table in Mr. Mullet’s home, meaning in the large room in that house the group used for their church services. The reporter noticed Mrs. Miller in the background shaking her head no. She said that she too played pool in prison, but they couldn’t play it around Bergholz. “The girls in prison gave me a hard time that I was gambling,” she said.

She had to leave her three young children in the care of her mother-in-law while she served her prison sentence. The older Mrs. Miller and her husband were among the victims of the attacks in 2011. Evidently, that lady takes the biblical injunction to forgive quite seriously, since her own son and daughter-in-law were among the attackers. Kathryn Miller’s three year old daughter is still calling the older Mrs. Miller “mom,” even though Kathryn has been home from prison for two months.

The reporter noted that Kathryn Miller used some prison slang in her conversation, referring to other prisoners as “cellies” and “bunkies.” She wore a smaller head covering while she was in prison, in addition to long brown dresses. She summed up her prison experience with a chilling phrase: “I didn’t feel like I was Amish.”

Self-governance, community service, and communal lands are among the traditions cherished by the Zapotec that help them maintain their autonomy, interpersonal harmony and effective approaches to justice. This website reviewed a journal article about the Zapotec social and political system, called usos y costumbres, in 2005, but it is helpful to have a current, popularly-written review of their unique ways of organizing communities that are, at least in some cases, highly peaceful.

Guelatao de JuarezA carefully-written, lengthy article published in the online magazine Truthout last week examined the issues relating to these traditions in Oaxaca State, in southern Mexico. It focused on a couple Zapotec municipalities, Guelatao de Juarez, with about 800 inhabitants, and Capulalpam de Mendez, with about 1,500. Both are in the mountains 60 km (36 miles) from the state capitol, Oaxaca City.

The authors, Renata Bessi and Santiago Navarro F., point out that of the 570 municipalities in the state, 418 use the traditional forms of governance referred to in English as “uses and customs,” while only 152 have adopted more conventional political systems. The unique, dedicated focus by the Zapotec, and the other, smaller, indigenous communities in Oaxaca, on keeping their traditional forms of government and social organization could inspire the rest of Mexico and, more broadly, Latin America.

The communities are governed, rules are set, and decisions are made by neighborhood, agrarian, religious, and town assemblies, with the general assembly, the highest level, having the ultimate authority over the entire municipality. Persons in positions of authority are not elected, however. Instead, the people follow their tradition of “cargos,” a hierarchical system where office-holders assume progressively responsible positions of service.

Children can begin lives of service by accepting cargos such as bell-ringers in the church, with the responsibility of marking the hours of the day for the people of the town. Services by adults can progress from general assistant to police assistant, project manager, town council, community mediator, and, finally, to town president.

Truthout interviewed the mayor of Guelatao, Jesus Hernandez Cruz, who had recently begun his cargo as mayor. He explained the ways the cargo system worked. By having individuals who are interested in service assume progressively responsible positions, they can effectively learn the needs and wishes of the community.

The mayor explained that no one earns money from their cargos, and that they work at tasks that best suit their own abilities. “The only thing one earns as one completes a good service is the respect and recognition of the town,” he said. However, according to another authority, the municipality does give municipal services such as electricity and water for free to people who provide cargos.

The provision of those free community services implies, however, that a stigma will be applied against people who do not fulfill their cargo duties adequately. Another element of the traditional organization of the Zapotec community is the tequios, the required, collective, community work projects that people perform, such as maintenance of roads and highways.

Jaime Martinez Luna, a Zapotec anthropologist, explained that these elements in the structure of the community help form the values and knowledge that have sustained the people for centuries. “We must understand,” he said, “what we are, not the ‘I’ or the ‘you,’ but the ‘we,’ and we should hold onto these principles in order to stop the interference of the vulgar and shameless principles of individualism. We shouldn’t enter into competition except to reproduce that which will be shared.”

He added that the Zapotec are against development that requires growth. They reject linear thinking, preferring circular and spiral ways of approaching issues because “men and women are not the center of the natural world. We are not owners of nature; we are owned by nature.”

Truthout emphasizes that normally the land in indigenous towns is owned communally. Land is not held as private property. All transfers of rights to use individual property must be approved by the assembly. If three years go by and a farmer does not produce anything on his land, the assembly can transfer it to another who does intend to make appropriate use of the property. Assemblies also have the authority to declare tracts of land as protected communal areas.

The mayor of Guelatao explained the system of justice in his town. Punishments for infractions of the laws may include jail time ranging from 12 hours, to 24 hours, to 3 days of incarceration. Fines and forced labor—for the benefit of the community—may also be imposed.

The community mediator, one of the higher level cargos, handles cases of justice involving theft, physical violence, and other types of crimes. He also helps out with issues that are beyond the scope of his responsibilities. Grave situations might require transferring the case to a higher level, the Public Ministry, but “the majority of cases are resolved here,” the mayor explains.

The self sufficiency of the two municipalities is assured because of resources produced by five local businesses: a toy factory; an ecotourism project; a crushed gravel pit; a water bottling plant; and a wood products mill using forest resources managed sustainably by the communities. The resources these projects generate support salaries for a small number of municipal employees: a librarian, a gardener, and an employee at the community cultural center.

Truthout does not dwell on the issue of autonomy in the two municipalities since, the authors write, the people themselves don’t speak much about it. But the authors do summarize their perception of the issue most eloquently. It is worth quoting their paragraph since it will convey the effectiveness of their writing and analysis. “Autonomy seems to be a daily reality that is breathed and felt in the harmony of the people when they go to participate in the tequio—collective work—or when they attend an assembly, organize to defend their land and territory, and celebrate and dance. The cargos of self-governance are still seen as a symbol of respect for the person who is chosen to give the service without being paid.”

Bessi, Renata,and Santiago Navarro F. 2014. “Across Latin America, a Struggle for Communal Land and Indigenous Autonomy.” Truthout. (Sunday, 20 July). http://truth-out.org/news/item/24981-across-latin-america-a-struggle-for-communal-land-and-indigenous-autonomy

Corrupt politicians are hardly news anywhere in the world, but Gaston Flosse, the President of French Polynesia, might deserve a prize as an extreme example of the phenomenon. The highest court in France last Thursday upheld his conviction for corruption last year, which resulted in a suspended jail sentence for four years, a fine of US$170,000, and a three-year ban on holding public office.

Gaston FlosseHe has appealed to the President of France, Francois Hollande, for a special presidential pardon. He has been convicted in two separate cases of taking bribes and of running a network of phony employees during the 1990s in order to build the influence of his party. The verdict of the court last week was sent to the French High Commission in Tahiti for it to carry out the requirement of the law—that he be removed from the office to which the Tahitians, and other citizens of French Polynesia, elected him nearly 15 months ago.

Flosse claimed that the French judiciary had lost its credibility in reaching its decision. He repeated his innocence and said, in a statement, that the court had denied the results of democracy. The French Polynesian voters were aware of the conviction when they went to the polls at the beginning of May last year, yet they elected him anyway, he contends.

His practice of running a scheme for phantom jobs from the presidential office 20 years ago has been referred to as “the biggest case of its kind in French legal history.” Flosse maintains his innocence, saying that all of the job contracts were approved by the French high commissioners.

On Friday, his opponent in the election last year, Oscar Temaru, called for the territorial assembly to be dissolved and for fresh elections. The two men have taken very different positions on the fundamental issue of the Tahitian relationship to France. Flosse has steadily maintained the importance of French Polynesia remaining an integral part of France while his opponent, Temaru, has been elected to the office of territorial president several times on a platform of gradually moving toward independence.

Flosse has appealed his sentence to the Court of Criminal Appeals in Papeete, the capital of French Polynesia, asking it to set it aside. That court is expected to consider the request on August 21. Also, he indicated that he intends to take his case to the European Human Rights Court. He wants that body to hear his contention—that his basic liberties have been violated by the French judiciary. The irony of that contention is that the man who has so based his career on the viability of close ties to France is now castigating the judiciary of that nation when it condemns his decades of corrupt practices.

On Tuesday this week, the French High Commissioner in Tahiti, Lionel Beffre, announced that he would defy the supreme court’s ruling last week. He indicated he would delay enforcing the order of the court, pending a decision on a pardon by President Hollande.

The vote in French Polynesia that brought Flosse to power on May 5, 2013, was apparently based on the fact that the economy of the territory is not at all good. It was neither a vote in favor of, nor opposed to independence, but a vote against the then incumbent, Temaru. The economy of the territory has been growing weaker for many different reasons. France has warned its territories that if they move toward independence, they will risk the loss of French financial subsidies, further harming their already fragile economies.