A Challenging Technique Involving Imaginary Figures of Power among the Pre-Soviet West-Buryats1

CHAPTER 1

A Challenging Technique Involving Imaginary Figures of Power among the

Pre-Soviet West-Buryats1

ROBERTE N. HAMAYON

In the seventeenth-century Russian Empire the peoples speaking Mongol-related languages living to the west of Lake Baikal were categorised with those on its eastern side and regarded as a single minority. At first they were called ‘bratskie’, a name that was then gradually fixed as Buryat.2 However, under colonial rule they developed differently on either side of the lake and these differences cannot be explained solely by their respective geographical situation and the type of colonisation they were subject to. Some reasons for these differences can be found in their internal organisation, as highlighted by Caroline Humphrey in her seminal 1979 paper on their respective uses of genealogies. Unlike the main East-Buryat group, the Khori, who eventually united, she notes that the main West-Buryat group, the Ekhirit-Bulagats, remained a set of groups in permanent rivalry with each other.3 These 1 I am extremely grateful to David Sneath for his relevant comments on a previous version of this paper and for his and Libby Peachey’s help in improving and polishing my English. 2 Although mentioned as early as the 13th century in the Secret History of the Mongols, the name Buryat was fixed in Russian official documents only in the course of the 19th century (Zalkind 1970: 49 n. 84). 3 ‘While a centralised hierarchy based on patrilineal descent could arise among the nomadic Khori [East], it did not among the Ekhirit-Bulagat [West]’ (Humphrey 1979: 255–56). It is worth recalling that they also differ by their relation to the Mongol Empire. Most of the West-Buryat groups either were never included or fled from the Empire, and for this reason remained or became, from the Empire’s point of view, oj-ijn irged, that is ‘people of the forest’. By contrast, most of the East Buryats did take part in

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West-Buryat groups had risen up against the Russians in the mid-seventeenth century. They started to pay taxes in 1662 and were considered subjugated two years later, although they acknowledged their own subjugation only in 1818 (Kudryavcev 1940; Rumyancev 1962; Zalkind 1970). Being colonized, they did not need military leaders – a common motive for uniting among nomadic polities (Khazanov 2004: 487) – nor did they unite against the Russian administration and its appointed local representatives.4 Although some of the population chose to either disappear into forest areas or to flee and settle on the other side of the Baikal, in some way, they managed to preserve their original lifestyle within the Russian Empire during the eighteenth century. But the intensification of colonial pressure in the middle of the nineteenth century led an increasing number of those who had remained in their native pasturelands to gradually adopt the lifestyle of Russian farmers.

In this chapter, I concentrate on a series of internal factors other than kinship that may also contribute to such a lack of leadership within, and uniting tendency between, groups among the West-Buryats, and in particular, the Ekhirit-Bulagats. Such factors are those derived from ideological principles and found in ritual practices considered in their the Empire and separated from other Mongols after its collapse, fleeing then from Mongolia proper to settle in Transbaikalia. Another contrast is found in the fact that Buddhism spread in Transbaikalia, while the West-Buryats remained attached to shamanism in spite of becoming officially christianised. 4 Initially, the Russian administration only required indigenous minorities to pay taxes and let Russian settlers exploit lands suitable for cultivation. It also handled criminal affairs and territorial conflicts. The 1728 Charter prohibited individuals from changing from one clan to another, and gave power to clan and supra-clan elders. However many of them misused their power to such an extent that a ‘revised’ charter was to be established. The 1822 Charter established by Speranskii declared that the traditional organisation of each indigenous people should be respected concerning the management of its internal affairs and its representation in the framework of the Russian administration (Kudryavcev 1940; Lamaizm v Burjatii 1983).

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Imaginary Figures of Power

relation to the very notion of power.5 Collective ritual functions were shared out among several specialists, though they were so restrictive that one could even describe them as a deliberate method of preventing a monopoly of power.6 On the other hand, however, the ideological background of internal power relations provided incentives for developing talents and left room for individual agency, even though to a limited extent. In the course of the nineteenth century they maintained their non-stratified (i.e. non-centralised) organisation under increasing colonial pressure, but eventually adapted as individuals to Russian statecraft.

The combination of these enabling and restrictive principles within their groups gave rise to an innovative technique that was intended to challenge both Buryat traditional and Russian state power but that, in reality, remained confined to popular imagination and more or less ritualised manifestations. It developed spontaneously, through the post-mortuary acknowledgement of transgressive behaviour as an outlet for oppressed young women and various kinds of outcasts. This was in direct opposition to patriclan organisation and to institutional shamanism, insofar as these were seen as cooperative towards the dominant political and religious power. This paper will attempt to illuminate the ways in which this challenging technique both emerges from and extends beyond the set of ideological principles that jointly promote individual talents and limit all kinds of power. This technique will be analysed as promoting a reversal of status in ‘the beyond’ such that it allows those who transgressed social rules to reintegrate into the sphere of society seen to be constituted of both its living and dead members. Moreover, this kind of limited ‘bottom up’ ideological system may also account for a certain continuity of the Buryat identity in present-day Russia, whereas there is no continuity at all between the non-stratified 5 This perspective is partially inspired by the theory of A. M. Hocart. 6 This does not mean that this ‘choice’ was ever consciously made. Every-thing developed through interaction.

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or segmentary pattern of traditional society and Russian statecraft.

This lack of centralisation, or segmentarity, is described by Caroline Humphrey (1979) and other sources (see Hamayon 1990: 90–125). There are two different logics of cooperation and transmission that should co-exist in territorial communities: hunting, which requires cooperation between groups related by marriage, and pastoralism, which requires transmission within descent groups, though an increase in numbers of people and livestock of course entails conflict.

The Context: A Mixed Lifestyle Undergoing Acute Change The increasing rate of Russian colonisation and land appropriation from the mid-nineteenth century placed the Ekhirit-Bulagats in a process of acute change. Previously, their way of life had been mostly a combination of hunting and herding, but the majority of them were now compelled to reduce their annual pastoral movement to moves between summer and winter-camps, and a minority was forced to adopt Russian-style settled farming. (It is worth noting that they initially kept domestic horses mainly to make hunting easier [Levin and Potapov, ed. 1956: 218–23; Kudryavcev 1940; Rumyancev 1962; Zalkind 1970] and more efficient by organising large-scale drives of game.) Their social order differed from both the neighbouring hunting societies living in the Siberian forest and the other Buryat and Mongol pastoral societies living in steppe areas, being neither as egalitarian as the former nor as hierarchical as the latter.

Interindividual Competition, Collective Solidarity As hunters, the Ekhirit-Bulagats emphasised individual qualities as indispensable for obtaining game. This emphasis derives from the perception of game as an uncertain type of commodity that is limited in quantity since it is not produced, a type of commodity that, by definition, is not available to everybody at all times, and has to be selectively ‘obtained’ or

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‘got hold of’. This requires not only specific skills, but also a certain amount of what is called ‘good luck’ or ‘fortune’ and is interpreted in the popular imagination as the result of being ‘elected’ or ‘selected’ by game-giving spirits. This view brings selective factors into play and makes room for charisma7 in ideology and individual agency in practice.

But social law immediately submits the exercise of all kinds of personal abilities to the restrictive condition that they are put exclusively at the service of the group, whether at a symbolic or a concrete level.8 Selection of agents makes redistribution of obtained goods mandatory, since the very fact of being selected to obtain something that is not available to everybody obliges the selected one to redistribute what he has got. There is no other possible use of individual skills than in collective endeavour, hence the flexible and egalitarian nature of this type of social organisation based on mutual dependence and the combination of competition and solidarity between the members of a group.

At the level of the individual, one is encouraged from childhood to develop talents in the field of activity corresponding to their sex with a view to common benefit. Thus, every boy trains to wrestle, every girl to sew, otherwise marriage will be impossible. On her wedding day, a bride must 7 This notion is relevant here in so far as, in its current use, it designates a type of quality perceived in popular consciousness as the effect of being selected or elected by spirits or deities, which brings ‘good luck’, ‘fortune’, or ‘grace’, whatever the objective qualities in reality. Here spirit election as source of fortune comes on top of a hunter’s skill. Similarly, a component perceived as of supernatural origin (suu, sülde), is often combined with a physical component (strength, kücü) in the most current definitions of power in Mongol history. 8 In the hunting societies of the Siberian forest nearby, the shaman is the one whom his group selects to symbolically ‘obtain good luck’ or ‘promises of game’ at hunting during appropriate rituals. What he symbolically gets is held to foreshadow and determine what the hunters will really get during the following season. He is to share out the ‘promises of game’ he has got among the hunters of the community. In the same way, the hunters will share out the pieces of game they took during their campaign.

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prove her skill in distilling milk vodka. Likewise, young men must compete not only in sports and games, but also in songs, jokes and other kinds of verbal provocations that may be endless, insofar as the provoked one must outbid his offender in the next round. Such provocations and competitions are a conventional part of the marriage alliance process.9 Formerly, they also gave rise to systematic vengeance relations between descent groups that, on the other hand, also intermarried.

Cooperation with In-laws, Transmission within the Descent Group At group level, within the context of a mixed lifestyle as mentioned above, the collective interest is twofold. Hunting by large-scale game drives requires large co-operation, while herding (and agriculture) imply concerns regarding the transmission of assets. Thus, marriage relationships between groups required for cooperation should be in balance (but are also potentially in conflict) with relationships within one’s descent group upon which transmission depends. Significantly, the majority of settlements (ulus) include two or more small descent groups that are related by marriage (as shown by the data of the 1897 census [Patkanov 1912] and recognized by the organisation of collective rituals as we shall see soon), as if to preserve both the interests of co-operation and transmission.

The combination of competitive and cooperative spirits10 accounts for the climate of overall rivalry between territorial groups or settlements (ulus), as if they were permanently eager to prevent each other from accumulating people, horses and other sources of power. This combination

9 The majority of these competitive games are played in pairs, as in wrestling, in the aim of winning over an adversary (as distinct from leading a group, as in a race). 10 There is an internal cooperation for hunting between at least two non-kin descent groups living together in a same village, but every descent group is eager to develop their own livestock destined to be transmitted to their progeny.

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also accounts for the pattern of power relationships within a group: mutual limitations characterise techniques and figures of power.

Dividing and Restrictive Power Techniques The Ekhirit-Bulagats acknowledge several sources of power and authority. I will leave aside not only outward sources, such as those bound to Russian governance and the Orthodox Church’s ascendancy, but also those derived from technical specialities (for instance, metalworking) developed within their society. Before analysing interactions on the fringes, I outline the positions of power of three figures endowed with politico-religious significance. These figures are those who play a leading or symbolically essential role in collective rituals that ensure the perpetuation of a group as such: the ‘old men’ (übged) or elders, i.e. representatives of their respective descent groups within the ritual community; the shaman; and the bard. In addition to social prerequisites in the first two cases (for the ‘old men’, being acknowledged as such, for the shaman, having shaman ancestors on either the paternal or maternal side), access to such roles essentially depends on personal abilities; throughout the year the management of these tasks is subject to social control in all three cases.

Two Types of Periodic Collective Rituals There are two main types of periodic collective ritual. Those tied to pastoral activity take place in summer, and those connected to hunting by large game drives take place in autumn and winter. Different leaders direct them.

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Sacrifice to the ‘Old Men of the Mountain’ (khadyn übged)11 for Pastoral Prosperity At the most obvious level, the main periodic collective ritual expresses the concerns of pastoral activity: it addresses the dead of the descent groups or ancestors (übged, ‘old men’) from whom herds and pastures are inherited and calls for their blessing on herders and livestock. At a deeper level, it ensures the perpetuation of the territorial or local community (ulus, or part of an ulus) that forms itself into a ritual community for such periodic performances. Such a community is usually composed of descent groups of at least two different clan origins, which therefore have potential marriage relationships with each other.12

This ritual belongs to the type called taylgan.13 It consists of the display of offerings and sacrifice of domestic animals to the ‘Old Men of the Mountain’, an expression that designates the dead of the two or more descent groups living in a given settlement at the foot of the mountain. It is organised and directed by (living) ‘old men’, who are those selected as representative among the elders of the descent groups gathering in a same ritual community.14 They sing long songs of invocation, along with sprinkling fermented mare’s milk and alcohol for all dead ‘Old Men’ (übgen or übgen esegener),

11 Khadyn übgen, khada uulyn übgen, uulyn übgen; khada is more widely used than uul for ‘mountain’ among the West-Buryats. 12 This is masked by the fact that the Russian administration chose, for the sake of commodity, to call the whole territorial community by the name of one of its components. 13 Taylgan designates any type of sacrificial ritual. Such rituals may be dedicated to other types of spirits. Their number in a year and specific purposes vary in time and space and from one to another ritual community. 14 On the one hand, the selection is rather informal – those who know how to organise the ritual, sing the invocations and so on. This is a question of authority and know-how rather than a matter of old age, although elders will be preferred if they are considered authoritative and able to do the job. On the other hand, the positions assigned to some of them by the Russian administration were also a factor in selection

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hence the name ‘sprinklers’ (khayalgasha) given to these ritual specialists in some areas.

Such living ‘old men’ may also be shamans, but shamans then take part in these ritual tasks as ‘old men’ and not as shamans.15 Moreover these tasks – purification by smoke, songs, offerings, libations, sacrifices – are often described as priestly tasks, and their practice does not come under specifically shaman agency. This has led some scholars to label the officiating ‘old men’ as ‘clan priests’ or ‘white shamans’,16 and others to consider that, properly speaking, there is no leading role for a consecrated shaman in this type of ritual.

However, in addition to these tasks, a short and almost silent action of the utmost symbolic importance is carried out towards the end of the sacrificial ritual and this can be considered as more typically shamanic while still being placed under the (living) ‘old men’s’ control. It is explained as ‘introducing’ (oruulkha) the ‘grace’ (khesheg) of the dead ‘Old Men’ or ancestors into the ‘parts’ (khubi) of ‘sacrificial meat’ (dalanga) that each family elder must bring back home after the ritual is finished.17 These parts of meat are preserved as 15 This conclusion is the result of my analysis of a number of sources (Khangalov 1958–1960; Manzhigeev 1960; Sanzheev 1927–1928, 1980; Tugutov 1978, etc., summarized in Hamayon 1990: 637–43), several of which mention that either a shaman or an ‘old man who knows’ masters the ritual with the help of other elders. What particularly qualifies shamans for these tasks among other possible elders are their proved ability to sing and their familiarity with ritual behaviour. Moreover, the shaman function is not clearly delineated, as we shall see below. 16 ‘White shamans’ are in fact a fictitious category, whose most salient feature is that they are unable to carry out what ‘black shamans’ do (see Hamayon 1990: 653–57). 17 The role of sacrificial meat as concretely conveying ‘grace’ can be paralleled to that of wild meat as making concrete the promises of game called ‘good luck’ or ‘fortune’ that are obtained by the shaman from game-giving spirits in hunting societies. Among the Ekhirit-Bulagats, both wild and domestic sacrificial meat are shared out among members and the parts, called khubi in both cases, are similarly associated with their prosperity.

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concrete conveyors of the ‘Old Men of the mountains’; grace is a concept that refers to both the dead Old Men or ancestors’ symbolic protection, and to the ritual community’s solidarity. They are also considered to be a concrete proof of the family’s membership in the ritual community and of their common rights over the pasturelands surrounding the mountain.

Epic Performance as a Ritual ‘Preparation’ for Hunting. A second type of periodic collective ritual is intended to prepare the group for hunting using large game drives – a prerequisite understood as making game-giving spiritual entities favourable and symbolically training hunters. It does not come within a shaman’s remit (as ritual preparation for ordinary hunting does in neighbouring hunting societies). It is repeated throughout the hunting season. It takes the form of an epic performance given by a bard, where there is no role at all either for a shaman or for ‘old men’ as such. As a ritual, it seems to be less important in social life than the sacrifice to the ‘Old Men of the Mountain’, although it is held to constitute the same kind of duty. It is absolutely compulsory before and during the hunting season, as well as absolutely forbidden at other times of the year. The performance is highly ritualised and subject to strict prescriptions and prohibitions, the most remarkable of which is the prohibition on any type of recording (including writing down) on pain of death or other misfortune.18

The epics are songs of alliterated verses. They are to be recounted in a singing voice, starting with extremely bass tones, known as üliger böölekhe – ‘to shamanise epics’ – an

18 This prohibition was effective until World War II. In spite of this, several bards had allowed scholars write down their versions in earlier times. Only a few epics have been fully transcribed. Most were uncompleted, for bards often stopped chanting if someone fell ill in their family or some problem occurred with their herd.

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active verb derived from böö ‘shaman’.19 This suggests a close connection between bard and shaman – a connection confirmed by the fact that what is done by a bard among the Ekhirit-Bulagats is done by a shaman in the neighbouring hunting societies. The content of all epic narratives sung in preparation for hunting is the hero’s search for a wife, which is held to be the most difficult quest and is intended as a metaphor for hunting.20

The (Living) ‘Old Men’ The ‘old men’s’ ritual function first derives from their senior position in patrilineal hierarchy, but it also depends on their personal ability to fill the above-mentioned priestly tasks in the worship of dead ‘Old Men’ or ancestors.21 From an analytical point of view, they are the legitimate representatives of the group’s rights over land and stock, and as such they guarantee everything that goes with group membership, or in other words, the perpetuation of the group as such. They are supposed to ensure that every member respects existing rules. Someone who does not take part in the ritual would not have his property protected by the group. The living ‘old men’ are 19 Recounting an epic poem with a mere speaking voice, üliger khelekhe, would deprive the performance of symbolic efficacy – and still more so if recounting the story in prose instead of alliterated verses. 20 This content reflects the framework of the shaman rituals aimed at obtaining good luck in hunting societies, where marrying a girl and hunting game are currently used as metaphors for one another. The main differences between the bard’s and the shaman’s ritual are formal: a narrative replaces a dramatic representation and speech replaces gestures and sounds, while imaginary heroes replace wild animal spirits in the audience’s concern. 21 The understanding of these men as elders is only partly appropriate. On one hand the ritualist ‘old men’ are not necessarily the oldest in age. On the other hand, the term akha, usually translated as ‘elder’ – in opposition to düü, ‘younger’ – when applied to brothers may also have the broader meaning of brave young man able to have a life of his own. This meaning is found, for instance, in young peoples’ songs, especially in the revolutionary songs recorded by G. D. Sanzheev at the beginning of the soviet period among the Alar’ West-Buryats (Sanzheev 1928).

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supposed to punish those who don’t respect the rules and don’t participate in the rituals, on behalf of the dead ‘Old Men’. Two types of limitation prevent, by definition, their power from extending beyond the realm of the ancestors from whom their legitimacy derives.

One is a sociological limit. As elders handling the collective ritual life of a territorial community, they cannot extend their power to related descent groups belonging to other communities, currently held to be potential rivals to their own.22 Permanent potential rivalry also prevents ‘old men’ of different ritual communities from uniting in a priest-like corporate body.

The other limitation of the officiating ‘old men’s’ power can be called religious: their relations are confined to the dead ‘Old Men’ of the territorial community (that is, to all dead who lived and died in a ‘normal’ way, i.e. had grand-children before dying).23 They have no hold over that which lies outside the realm of the ancestors (i.e. internal social order and pasturelands), certainly not over social marginals and the wild, for example. Those who could not be ancestralised for lack of offspring are often associated with wild places such as rocks, springs, lakes etc. – ‘others’ of all kinds, which will fall into the sphere of shamanic activity. This helps to explain why the power of the ‘old men’ is perceived as being essentially protective of inherited collective goods (to which they ensure legitimate rights), but not defensive, as defence requires shamanic intervention.24 Such power is, therefore, perceived as 22 The book devoted by S. P. Baldaev to clan stories (1970) clearly shows that territorial solidarity generally prevails over clan solidarity. The role of clan membership is exclusively to define exogamy. 23 From this point of view the notion of ancestor is useful since it implies that the dead had progeny, that is, the continuation of their descent line, in contrast to those who could not become ‘ancestors’ because they had no progeny. 24 The Russian administration has put an end to armed conflicts between groups, but self-defence is still part of the ideology attached to the shaman’s function, as it is to the figure of the epic hero. The shamanic paraphernalia

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being at one and the same time inescapable and weak and, finally, likely to become more of a hindrance than a help.

The Bard Contrary to other male specialities that depend on hereditary rights in Ekhirit-Bulagat society (metalworkers or ironworkers, for instance), being a bard is in principle independent of any descent belonging or membership and is not institutionalised. Nor do bards form a social category of their own. Performing epics is subject to strict social control and not paid for. Nor does it bring any real power to the bard,25 although it may generate fame and prestige. Furthermore, the biographies published by Sherkhunaev (1973, 1977) reveal that, far from giving him a leading position, a bard’s fame rather stimulates competition with other bards. As a matter of fact, it is the preliminary verbal jousting between potential bards that selects the one to perform, although the results of previous performances in terms of success at hunting may also be taken into account. The bard’s role is to make the epic hero symbolically present as an ideal figure. Now the ideal embodied by the figure of the hero in the Ekhirit-Bulagat epics is the one that is vital to every male member of the community: self-defence and perpetuation through marriage. This explains why there are different names for the heroic figure, even though the story, adventures and goals are strictly the same from one to the other epic. What is of interest here is that the

are called zebseg, ‘weapons’ (Manzhigeev 1978: 56); the shaman’s attire is khuyag, ‘armour’, in Darkhad. Some stories collected by Baldaev (1970) recount how shamans of territorial groups expelled from their pasturelands moved to other places the material symbols of their group’s land rights: the sheree, stones, where their group’s ‘Old Men’ are supposed to rest and where animals are sacrificed during taylgans. The stones (sheree) could not be moved this way from one to another mountain by living ‘old men’. 25 In particular, the Ekhirit-Bulagat bard does not enjoy a central place in society similar to that of the shaman performing the ritual preparing for hunting in hunting societies.

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hero’s ideal story does not provide a pattern of ascent to a leading position.26

In sum, as a power figure in society, the bard’s is in a paradoxical position: ideologically strong, but insignificant in practice, for lack of attachment to any given social grouping, and the non-ritualised nature of his access to his role as a bard.

The Shaman Among the Ekhirit-Bulagats, the shaman is one of several ritual specialists and the place of the shamanic institution is not central in society.27 An analysis of the notion of udkha is crucial to account for the shaman’s social position, which is marked with ambiguity.

On the one hand, udkha is used to designate a hereditary right to access and practice the specialities of one’s ancestors. It therefore refers to a line of ancestors. Thus, like all other specialists except the bard, one should have a shaman’s udkha, that is, have ancestors with the same speciality, to claim recognition as a shaman and be active as such. But, contrary to the technical specialities (such as, for instance, ironworking), inheritance of a shamanic udkha is considered not to be limited to a patrilineal descent line and may pass through women as 26 This is peculiarly conspicuous in the Ekhirit-Bulagat version of the epic of Geser, collected by Jamcarano from the bard Emegeney or i Manshuud in 1906. The hero is not a centralising power figure in this version, contrary to the Tibetan and Mongol versions from which his name is borrowed and where he is a king or head of a country. He and his sons after him are continuously faced with the initial adversary’s new descendants, in spite of the fact that, in all cases, they eventually overcome them; their punctual victories never lead to domination, still less to eradication of the enemy. One is led to suppose that the story of this borrowed hero was adapted to conform to the Ekhrit-Bulagat non-centralised or non-stratified model of society. This is all the more significant since the name Geser (Gesar in Tibetan) most probably comes from the Latin Caesar (Stein 1959) that is also the origin of the German Kaiser and the Russian Tsar, and that is clearly tied to a central power figure. 27 In addition to the above-mentioned categories, blacksmiths also can act as ritualists.

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well. In reality, however, generally, shamans’ lineages encourage boys to take up the udkha and become shamans, whereas they dissuade or prevent girls from doing so, which contributes to the subordination of the shamanic institution to the kin-based social order.

On the other hand, the proper meaning of udkha as a common noun is the ‘contents’ or ‘significance’ of a word or sentence. It is also used in the more general sense of ‘essence’ or ‘essential quality’. Thus, the notion of udkha applied to what is inherited from ancestors also refers to a specific quality or implies a qualitative dimension. This is clearly expressed in the name for the ritual that establishes a shaman as such among the Buryat groups of Transbaikalia, especially among those of the Aga district: shanar~shinar~chanar, the usual meaning of which is ‘intrinsic quality’.28 From a more general point of view, the notion of quality is also consistent with the current idea among scholars that shamanic power is, by definition and function, of a charismatic nature.29

The ‘essential quality’ contained in a shamanic udkha is perceived as potentially inherent in the human being, since inheritance passes through men and women as well. At the same time, this qualitative aspect accounts for the fact that those who will become shamans are considered to have been selected; this qualitative aspect is a base for selection; the one who is selected is thought to possess this quality. As a matter of fact, not all members of a shamanic lineage become shamans; there is nothing automatic in the transmission, the only rule in this matter being that shaman ancestors should not 28 Poppe 1940; Partanen 1941; etc., and recently Manduhai 1999; Shimamura 2002: 93. 29 In the sense that one is considered to have been individually selected or elected by spirits to become shaman (see note 7 above). On the one hand, charisma is attached to the function, not to shamans as individuals. On the other hand, since efficiency depends on singular actions appropriate to singular beings and circumstances, charisma can only manifest itself individually. This makes any shaman necessarily unique and a rival to all other shamans.

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be left without a living shaman to continue relations with them. This is substantiated by accounts of a prospective shaman being ‘tormented’ by shaman ancestors collected from many shamans. These accounts reflect the fact that they were under collective pressure to take up the ‘calling’ at the death of the lineage’s last shaman,30 and are also supported by the fact that a woman may assume relations with her father’s, mother’s or husband’s shaman ancestors if there is no living male around (or no male with the required ‘intrinsic quality’), although she will never be granted a ritual consecration by the lineages concerned as a man would in most areas. Hence, still, the fact that one is not necessarily a shaman for one’s entire life; not only does one have to ‘re-qualify’ periodically, but also one may lose the responsibility for lack of manifest ‘intrinsic quality’.

In addition, for men and women alike, there are other possible types of udkha understood as alternative sources of legitimacy for those who do not belong to a shamanic lineage. The qualitative dimension of a shaman udkha appears more clearly in the case of people who have no shaman ancestor and claim other types of udkha than the inherited type: an ‘udkha by striking’ (ner’jeer udkha), a reference to a relative who has been struck by lightning, or an udkha tied to an object fallen from above (buumal udkha), referring to an artefact found by chance outside inhabited areas (Khangalov 1958–1960: I, 370). Both events are seen as tokens of spirit election that may justify some kind of shamanic practice.

The kind of power considered to be inherent in the shamanic ‘essential quality’ may even prevail over the kind of power derived from having shaman ancestors, as shown by the attitude of some Ekhirit-Bulagat groups, those living in the Ida 30 The torment announces the charge as a fatigue duty not to be refused on pain of death. The image of the shaman function as an ineluctable burden is also consistent with the common image of power as something to be hampered, as if ‘refusing’ (but in vain) the ‘torment’ were meant to be cleared from any voluntary coming to power.

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valley and to a lesser extent those of Balagansk. They deliberately do not establish their shamans officially in a ritual ‘consecration’ that would put them at the service of their shaman ancestors, as is done in other areas (Khuda, Ünge). They argue that their shamans may move and act among spirits more freely, and therefore more efficiently, if they remain independent from their ancestors.31

Thus, the shaman activity seems at the same time wide and flexible in ideology and subject to severe sociological restrictions in practice – an inconsistency that partly accounts for the confused pattern of the shaman’s profile in the context examined here, where it is, at the same time, independent from the kin-based order in origin and dependent on it in practice.

As a matter of fact, one may shamanise (that is, address spirits) without being a shaman, and one may be recognised as a shaman without being ritually established as such.

Apart from their small part in sacrificial rituals, shamans only have a leading role at a collective level in the consecration ritual of a new shaman, a ritual to which no other function is assigned than officially establishing a new shaman, that is perpetuating the shamanic institution in general as a kin-oriented institution and the shaman’s line in particular. On the other hand, shamans of both sexes develop private rituals, which they are paid for and carry out as individual specialists, inevitably in competition with each other. Such private rituals address mostly spirits other than ancestral ones, that is, wandering restless dead souls, with the aim of preventing them from harming the living. These different rituals and practices (divination, purification and healing) are all perceived as repelling misfortune and eventually calling good fortune, a

31 Khangalov (1958–1960: II, 150 and passim). The shamans of the Obosoi and Torsoi clans of the Ida valley, who are not ritually consecrated as such, are reputedly the most powerful of all the West-Buryats. Their argument of independence from shaman ancestors also implies that the preservation of livestock and pasturelands is not the main concern of the rituals they have to carry out. We may suppose that these rituals imply other kinds of spirits.

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function that embraces a very wide scope of possible opportunities. Consequently, the number of shamans (consecrated or not) and their importance in everyday life and popular consciousness increased during the pre-soviet period. Now this increase in no way entails more power for the institution of the shaman as such, quite the opposite: the claim that prevails in this context is that shamanism is a human speciality, directly accessible to everybody. The shaman’s role as the representative of the living in the spirit world tends to be perceived in opposition not only to other power figures but, primarily, to social order itself, as represented by ancestors and ‘old men’.

‘Status’ and ‘Value’ as Mutually Exclusive in Ideology Thus, the general pattern is that none of these three potential figures of power (ritual ‘old man’, shaman and bard) is likely to acquire a leading position over the other two. Nor is any of these figures certain to remain a permanent power figure in society throughout their lives. Their position at the same time requires particular personal qualities and precludes their becoming institutionalised as a power figure. Two kinds of data may throw light on the grounds of this general, mutually constraining pattern. One is found in ideology, in the hero’s profile as defined by the epics; the other is found in practice, in the respective positions of living ‘old men’ and shamans toward each other. They both point to the incompatibility between two components or factors of the notion of power referring respectively to society and the individual: status and value.

As a rule, the epic hero is a young man whose father is either dead or has been captured, in other words, is of no help. In the Ekhirit-Bulagat version of Geser, the hero’s father, though living, is also of no help, but for reasons of disability and drunkenness that are clearly linked to higher status and old

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age.32 The hero also has an elder brother, and is therefore the junior sibling. Not only is the quest for the wife-to-be long and hard for the hero in all narratives, especially since he has to venture outside his own space, but also her ‘predestination’ to him (by virtue of a prior agreement between their fathers – a metaphor for marriage prescriptive rule) is never effective per se. He has also to overcome a series of trials which the prospective father-in-law imposes upon suitors (there are always suitors other than the hero). The father-in-law’s attitude toward the hero is well typified by the use of terms derived from the word erkhe to depict it. Erkhe designates the type of power that derives from a right or a good one holds, which gives rise to the derived meaning of arbitrariness of power.33 Khadam khani baabaydaa namda khayshin gej erkheleje baynash taa? “Father-in-law, why do you make an arbitrary use of your power in regard to me?” exclaims the hero when faced with trials he perceives as wanton.34

It is significant that the Ekhirit-Bulagat epic narratives come to an end just after the hero’s marriage, as if he stopped being heroic when he himself attains a position of power since, as a married man, he potentially becomes a daughter’s father, and hence superior to her future suitor. The simplest category of epics barely mentions, in a mere two verses, the only significant event after the hero’s marriage – the marriage of his

32 In former times, old age as such was blamed in popular imagination and gave rise to the practice called öökhe üngüülkhe ‘make [an old person] chew fat’ by driving in his (rarely or her) mouth a long piece of fat until it caused breathlessness. This practice was described as being performed during a festival in the old person’s honour (Khangalov 1958: I, 11; Baldaev 1970: 132, 340; Smolev 1898: 106; Tugutov 1958: 152). A similar practice called am’ barikh ach was known in Mongolia. 33 This meaning is peculiarly obvious in the adjective erkhemkhei, ‘fanciful, whimsical, wanton’, and in the verbs erkhelkhe and erkhekhe. For examples in Mongol, see Kovalevski’s Dictionary, I: 263–67. 34 Verses 5197–5199 of the Ekhirit-Bulagat version of Geser, collected from Emegenei Manshuud by Jamcarano in 1906 (Khomonov 1961).

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sister.35 In analytical terms, the hero’s career unfolds as a demonstration of his superiority in human personal qualities with respect to his father-in-law, and stops when he attains superiority of status with respect to his future son-in-law. Within one’s line, lack of status (Geser is the younger son) makes superiority in value (courage, cleverness, imagination, being decisive, etc.) an indispensable quality for the hero and induces dynamism. In turn, superiority in status (Geser’s father and elder brother)36 somehow generates passiveness insofar as status is, in itself, no matter of contest.

Likewise, although not so clearly, ‘old men’ are by definition superior in status while shamans are expected to manifest moral and intellectual superiority, insofar as they should possess the qualitative content or charismatic element inherent in the notion of udkha. The shaman’s value is similar to the hero’s: both have to venture outside their own space (in the spirits’ world or the father-in-law’s domain); both are appreciated in terms of ‘efficiency’ in reaching the fixed goal; both are exalted so long as the goal is in conformity with the social order (with descent or marriage rules), and held to be potentially subversive otherwise.

Thus, in the representations of power common to epics and shamanism among the Ekhirit-Bulagats, status is associated with defective power (in that disability, drunkenness, lack of memory, etc. are associated with old age), value with both innovation and virtual subversion.37 This 35 Geser is not the hero in the Ekhirit-Bulagat narratives dedicated to his sons. He retires and rests in the sky. 36 Let me remind the reader that the Ekhirit-Bulagat version does not lead to the hero’s absolute leadership; see above note 26. 37 The hero’s actions are potentially subversive. At the very beginning of the epic, in spite of ‘an agreement between the hero’s father and the father of the wife-to-be’, the hero is not admitted as a potential suitor by the wife-to-be’s father, that is, by his promised father-in-law. He must force the father-in-law to accept him as a suitor, and he is only one among several other suitors who cannot claim such a fathers’ agreement. The lesson is: in order to triumph, it is necessary but not sufficient to have a right; only the

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fundamental separation between status and value accounts for the lack of leadership within society, since it blocks any power from the outset, as if the very question of the legitimacy of power as such was at stake. It is therefore to be expected that any attempt made to bypass the rigid kin-based social order would have no success other than in terms of individual adaptation somewhere beyond the borders of that society.

There is, however, a socially significant phenomenon in the life of the Ekhirit-Bulagats during the period dealt with here that can be examined in this light: the combination of status-holders’ defective and value-holders’ subversive potentialities seems to open up the way to a challenging attempt to bypass the rigid social order. It is the growing importance of a specific category of spirits, although this importance is initially limited to popular imagination and ritual life. The symbolic promotion of these spirits and rituals appears as an innovative technique that contests the society’s rigid order. This innovative technique seems to have had real social implications in the second half of the nineteenth century, as we shall see below.

The Fate of Outcasts As a matter of fact, as contact with Russians increased, the category of spirits called zayaan became more and more important among the Ekhirit-Bulagats and other West-Buryats. Although the word zayaa(n) is used among them as well as in all other Mongol languages with a meaning usually translated as ‘fate, destiny’,38 it is not found as a category of spirits in Transbaikalia and Mongolia. There is no evidence at all that zayaan applied to a spirit is an abbreviation of a longer term.

addition of right + personal superiority or victory provides an access to status. 38 It is used in Mongolian either as a common noun (with usual derivatives), or as a component in the name of a celestial being of the category tengeri: Zajaan Sagaan Tenger(i), for instance.

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Actually, there is no clear-cut definition of this category, and a shaman lineage’s ancestors may also alternatively be called collectively zayaans or khada uulyn übged, ‘Old Men of the Mountain’. However, a stricter use of the term indicates spirits that are never referred to by another name. Thus, among shaman ancestors only some of them become zayaan, for ‘only the best ones deserve this honour’, Khangalov (1958: I, 482) writes, ‘while people gradually forget the bad ones’. Thus, the selective principle by which only the ‘special’ become shamans also applies here and contributes to the closeness between being a shaman and becoming a zayaan.

As spirits, the zayaans are souls of dead people, in contrast with ancestors on the one hand and considered to have a strong influence on the living on the other hand. Thus, the meaning of ‘destiny’ inherent in the name seems to refer to both the dead person’s own destiny on earth and that of the living being(s) that the dead soul acts upon, but with nuances that diverge from one to another. In addition, this meaning of ‘destiny’ as a category of spirits seems to be at variance with the current use of the term. As a common noun, zayaan has positive connotations that liken its meaning to ‘fortune, good luck’: zayaata(j) khün, literally ‘a person with destiny’, means ‘someone who is fortunate’, while zayaagüj, ‘without destiny’, means unequivocally ‘unfortunate, ill-fated’. It is currently used coupled with zol, ‘fortune, good luck’, in invocations calling for prosperity. It is also currently coupled with bayan ‘rich’, bayar ‘joy, happiness’, amar ‘quietness’ or hanaan ‘thoughts’. However, unlike the latter terms that designate reversible conditions or states, zayaan is perceived as inherent in the person.

By contrast with its use as a common noun, as a spirit’s name zayaan is radically negative if referring to the dead person’s life and death. It implies that the person suffered great hardship throughout his or her life and died a premature, violent or cruel death, which prevented him or her from being included in the category of ancestors and, therefore, dedicated

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him or her to continual restlessness and wandering. Being included in the ancestors’ category implies having lived a more or less ‘normal’ life and died a more or less ‘normal’ death, in particular having progeny in whom one’s soul can be somehow ‘re-used’ for a new life on earth’.39 Then, unlike ancestors, who are mentioned and addressed anonymously as a collective, zayaans are, as a rule, mentioned and addressed individually, either by their personal name or by reference to some source, hill or other uninhabited place their life or death is tied to.

However, as a spirit’s name referring to the spirit’s action upon the living (i.e. acting upon or influencing the living’s ‘destiny’), the word zayaan, ‘destiny’, also conveys a nuance of power and mightiness, which may be either malevolent or beneficial. The verb zayaakha means ‘to influence the destiny, to decide the fate, to announce, to predict’ and is usually understood as expressing a supernatural decision likely to have an impact in reality.40

Now, not all people who endured an unfortunate life and death are considered zayaan. In most cases, their relatives manage to treat their souls so as to reintegrate them into the

39 The concept of ‘reincarnation’ would not be appropriate here, for the dead are never considered to be reborn as a person, but as a link in a descent line. What is called a soul here is a symbolic entity conveyed by bones likely to reappear within the same human line or the same animal species after being re-cycled following death. The ritual treatment of bones is meant to favour its reappearance after a variable number of generations. ‘Bone’ is also used as a conceptualisation of patrilineal descent. Thus, individual ancestors are only momentarily ancestors and are conceived of anonymously, as a collective (like a shamanic udkha). 40 This verb is widely found at the beginning of the Buryat epics of Geser coupled with khekhe ‘to make’. This coupling is reserved for the celestial beings, tengeris. They are said to ‘create and predestine’ people for their life on earth. They themselves and their sons, xad, are widely mentioned also in invocations as the highest figures in the background of the supernatural realm, but are not the actual addressees of rituals. Their place and part as symbolic power figures is rhetorical rather than operative in practice. The Mongol verb zajaakh means ‘to grant, to bestow, to bless with’.

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‘normal’ cycle of human life and death and cause them eventually to join the anonymous community of ancestors. They may, among other things, carry out rituals and make offerings to provide the dead soul with some compensatory worship until it is held to be appeased. However, what matters most in the reintegration process is the way a socially acceptable interpretation of the dead person’s life and death is progressively built so that the hardship suffered receives an appropriate explanation.

Therefore, considering a dead person to be a zayaan amounts at first sight to an acknowledgement of the failure of this collective process of post-mortuary social reintegration in the case of this person, or the intrinsic impossibility of this person returning to a situation that conforms to the norm. Conversely, it also amounts to a full acknowledgement of the existence of non-conforming individuals as such or, in other words, an assessment of non-conformity as a way to attain a position as an individual subject – although such an independent, individual position is attained only in the beyond (i.e. when dead), rather too late for the subject to enjoy it. Thus, at a deeper level, promoting a dead soul to the position of a zayaan appears to be a symbolic procedure meant to give those individuals who transgress social norms a position in society without threatening the existence of society as such. At a still deeper level, this is a procedure to manipulate social norms through their transgressions so as to open up the way to new patterns of social integration. Understanding this requires a more thorough examination of the data concerning the life and death of dead people who were considered zayaan during the pre-soviet period.

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The Empowerment of Unfortunate Dead Women Actually, the majority of the individual zayaans encountered in ethnographic literature41 are women who belong to a shamanic lineage or, in other words, possess a shaman udkha, but are prevented by their husband or in-laws from becoming shamans and eventually put to death or driven to despair and suicide. The following biography is typical.

After her death Khömgö became a highly revered zayaan among the Buryats of Balagansk. During life, she was an ordinary married woman. One day, her husband went to watch his horse herd. He noted that a mare has foaled and that the foal is eight-legged. Quite amazed, he cut off the four extra legs. On coming back home, his wife exclaimed that she was to become a great shamaness and that the eight-legged foal was to become her riding horse. She then went crazy, that is, started to behave foolishly and shamanise, wandering from village to village. In Talkin, she was offered generous hospitality, in Balagansk she was beaten and stoned to death. Her corpse was thrown in the wood of Börtögönö. From then on, she became a powerful zayaan, bestowing love on people of Talkin, hatred on those of Balagansk (Khangalov 1958: I, 490–91).42

However, people who died prematurely and tragically

could also be promoted to the position of zayaan even if they did not have a shaman udkha. In such a case, they were attributed a fictitious shaman udkha allegedly discovered only after death. At that time, this occurred to a significant number of young women who committed suicide, most often because they had been married by force and could find no other means to escape from a husband (or in-laws) whom they hated. Increased contact with Russians made them resent their 41 Detailed information is found in Khangalov 1958–1960, in particular I, 482–96; Podgorbunsk 1891: II, 1895: IV; Poppe 1973; Manzhigeev 1978; etc. 42 Such stories can also be analysed by reference to the kin-oriented conception of shaman udkha: a shaman line would always suspect a daughter-in-law endowed with a shaman udkha of giving prevalence to her own shaman ancestors.

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condition as particularly oppressive and opened up the way for women to engage in alternative love affairs. The Russian administration and the Orthodox Church strove to make these affairs official (especially if the love partner was himself a Russian), which eventually broke off the woman’s links with her family and community of origin. As zayaans, such women are imagined as free of all social bounds, singled out as individuals and allowed to do what they personally like.

Podgorbunskii notes how amazed he was to remark this growing tendency to identify dead people as zayaan. He mentions that even a retired Russian captain – that is, a non-Buryat, moreover still living – came to be considered a zayaan and was offered sacrifices and invocations, after one of the many scandals he used to create, which coincided with an epizootic disease, and was seen as its cause (Podgorbunsk 1891: II, 28–31 and 1895: 37).

What matters here is that zayaans are currently said to be more ‘powerful’ than the ‘Old Men of the Mountain’. They are also held to have died prematurely because they were the most talented individuals on earth, Podgorbunskii adds. By contrast, other spirits are conceived of as ‘easy to deceive’, as demonstrated by the alleged efficiency of tricks used to distract their attention. This induces Khangalov to conclude: ‘what a poor opinion the Buryats have of their spirits, they held them for complete and utter fools’ (Khangalov 1958: I, 399; see also Poppe 1973: 313). This supposed superior cleverness is similar to the moral and intellectual superiority attributed to shamans in ideology in contrast to ‘old men’ and confirms the closeness between shaman and zayaan.

More basically, zayaans are also considered more powerful by virtue of their being freed from all social rules and limitations: this makes their behaviour totally unpredictable and arbitrary, erkhemkhyj (see above, note 34). Not being confined within a clan or a village, they are thought to be able to interfere in all of them, inciting living people to also rebel

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and free themselves.43 Called masters (ezen, pl. ezed) of uninhabited areas, they are thought at ease in the wilds as well. Thus, geographically and socially, their imaginary power is perceived as both contesting and exceeding that of all other figures – both real and imaginary.44

Inversion of Status and the Ambiguous Role of Shamans The promotion of an unfortunate dead woman’s soul to the status of zayaan appears to be a complete reversal of status: in passing from the real to the imaginary realm, an individual’s social failure in life is transformed into his or her empowerment after death. In a way, the worse someone’s destiny was on earth, the better it is in the beyond thanks to the strongest possible type of symbolic power. Several Buryat ethnographers explicitly depict the function of the shaman as ‘making unfortunate dead souls favourable’, or transforming the vengeful desire of unfortunate dead souls to harm the living into an inclination to protect them.45 Now, this may apply to all unfortunate dead souls that are worshipped so as to be ‘re-integrated’ in the normal cycle and not only to zayaans that are treated so as to remain outside the norm. It is quite possible that both the conception and worship of saints in Orthodox Christianity influenced the construction of zayaans as individualised figures.

It is beyond the scope of this paper to give a very detailed account of the shaman’s role in the recognition of a 43 A zajaan called Düükhej is peculiarly famous for having incited 350 young men and women to follow her example in committing suicide, and join her to lead a free and merry life in the beyond (Khangalov 1958: I, 495). They are called Üleyiyn Olon, ‘the Many of - üley’. They are also said to have fought for the Red Army in Stalingrad, where half of them were killed and therefore definitely dead. 44 A similar point is made by Tatyana Boulgakova 2004, concerning the respective powers of Soviet authorities and Nanai shaman spirits. 45 Khangalov 1958–1960; Batorov and Khoroshikh 1926: 56; Sandschejew 1927–1928: XXVII, 607–08.

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dead soul as a zayaan. This is a complex process involving a community as well as the agency of a specific shaman. But it can be briefly sketched in the following way. The identification of the zayaan is based on an interpretive construction that combines the dead person’s destiny and various misfortunes occurring in the life of the community. This construction consists of establishing cause and effect relations between the former and the latter, which is done gradually in collective informal discourse and confirmed formally through shamanic divination. Subsequently, it takes the form of long songs sung by shamans during the rituals dedicated to the zayaan. Such songs start with addressing the dead soul in more or less compassionate or praising words and recounting how dreadfully hard its destiny was on earth, so as to assess its individual identity. They continue with expressions of the dead soul’s supposed complaints and desires. Thus, the shaman speaks alternately on the community’s and on the dead soul’s behalf. He or she spells out questions and answers on both sides in a process of negotiation aimed at establishing the offerings and other compensations required by the dead soul to stop it harming the living. The collective appreciation of the ritual’s ‘symbolic efficiency’ determines the fame and hence the future worship of the zayaan involved.

Thus, the whole process implies a gradual and informal redefinition of social norms and of their transgressions. Such a reversal of status allows society to reconsider its collective evaluation of and reaction to those who transgress, contest and challenge its rule and orderliness. However the process displays the co-existence and mutual adaptation of norm and transgression not only within society but also in relation to the global society, that is, to the Orthodox Church and Russian statecraft. It presents the combined logics of breaking clan rule and allowing individuals to emerge as such, thus meeting the mutual requirements of citizens and of the state. In this process, the figure of the shaman appears again to be both associated with transgression and serving the social order – but, in this

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case, the order of state society that admits the existence of individual subjects.

Böölööshen, ‘a Collective Wandering – Shamanising’ without shamans? With regard to zayaans, shamanic agency appears to be itself challenged by a more innovative popular form of action called böölööshen, a word derived from böö, shaman, and meaning ‘(collectively) shamanising’. It is also called nayguur, ‘swinging’ (laterally). It designates a popular, self-perpetuating shamanising party managed by young people where no shaman takes part. It is rooted in an individual event: someone (usually a young man) considers himself ‘attacked by a zayaan’ (zayaanda dayragdahan) and starts to ‘shamanise for it’, that is, to address songs to this zayaan and manifest its presence in himself. With a bell and a whip in his hands, he walks all over his village, entering every dwelling, asking for offerings and raising a general scare so that other young men join him at the end of his visit. Thus, the number of shamanising people increases up to forty or fifty with every dwelling and every village visited. For months and even for years, these groups might go and shamanise throughout West-Buryat inhabited regions. Sometimes, in imitation of but without any interference from that group, other young men start a similar böölööshen elsewhere; they gather followers in other villages and avoid meeting the group that first started it. The most important böölööshen lasted from 1840 to 1844 in the area around Irkustk, among the West-Buryats, and the last one took place in 1934 in the island of Ol’khon in Lake Baikal.46

46 Kulakov 1896: 138; Ordynskiy or ii 1896: 69; Batorov 1926: 107–08; Sandschejew 1927–1928: XXVII, 602–06; Manzhigeev 1978: 27, 59. Ocherki… 1974: II, 165–66. Khangalov only mentions some people who started to shamanise in such a way and regrets he could not collect more about them (Khangalov 1958: I, 541). I have not found more information on böölööshen in the parts of his Archives dealing with zajaan (Budapest): doc. 22: 625, 36: 1049–51. Manzhigeev (1978: 27) explains böölööshen as

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Although the information is scarce, analysis and the comments collected in the field and from Buryat colleagues allow me to argue that this practice differs from the above-mentioned one managed by shamans. While shamans identify various dead souls as zayaans, it emerges from the sources I was able to consult that every time they mention which zayaan the shamanising young men identified as the ‘attacking zayaan’, the name was ‘the khor(i)in khoyor zayaan’. These are understood as ‘the twenty-two zayaans’ by Khangalov (a West-Buryat who died in 1918)47 or as ‘the two zayaans of Khori’ by most other, later, observers. Be that as it may, these zayaan are always young girls harassed to death. When their name is understood as ‘the two zayaan of Khori’, their story is always related to the spread of Buddhism from the eighteenth century onwards and to the harassment of followers of shamanism by the Buddhist clergy. What accounts for the occurrence of böölööshen in their honour among the West-Buryats, whereas Buddhism spread mainly among the East-Buryats, is that these girls’ dead souls are supposed to have taken refuge in Cisbaikalia and more particularly in Ol’khon Island in the middle of Lake Baikal. There, they became an emblem of self-defence. If self-defence was initially and at the first level directed against Buddhism as an external religious power, it is also to be understood more widely, as suggested by Manzhigeev. This author stresses (1978: 27) that these böölööshen happened in times of heavy crisis such as mass epidemic diseases or heightened social and national oppression. Thus I argue that, in dedicating böölööshen to these zayaans,

a collective practice of young shamanists aimed at popularising the cult of a new zayaan – which would then more or less anticipate or duplicate the shamans’ part – but he gives no example supporting his point of view. 47 Khangalov, oddly enough, translates ‘twenty-one zajaan’ in Russian (ibid.), whilst khoyor means ‘two’ unambiguously. The translation ‘twenty-two’ prevails among the West-Buryats, that saying ‘the two zajaan of Khori among those settled on the other side of the Baikal, who belong in majority to the ethnic group Khori.

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young people expressed their fear and rejection of all that threatened collective integrity and identity. Thus, contrary to the promotion of individual zayaans by shamanic practice that may be seen as a strategy of individual adaptation to Russian acculturation and state organisation, the böölööshen may be seen as expressing concerns regarding collective or even ethnic identity and integrity in opposition to all kinds of threats. These threats included the state and its ideology as well as its local, native representatives, if we take into account the variety of contexts of historical böölööshen under both the Tsarist and Soviet regimes.

In Guise of Conclusion In sum, the pattern of society that emerges from the data presented here may be characterised by a twofold transfer: from the living to the dead and from the real to the imaginary. As a matter of fact, the Ekhirit-Bulagats of the late nineteenth century prevented the living – real – power holders from being really powerful, and attributed greater power to dead – imaginary – figures of power. Thus, in the popular consciousness, the living feel themselves in the grip of the dead. Those who are entitled to manipulate the dead may therefore be said to exert indirect power in this way, whether this be the ‘old men’ who impose the respect of clan rule on behalf of severe ancestors, or the shamans who promote singular transgressors as supposed powerful zayaans. While the ‘old men’s’ power is of a conservative type of social organization incompatible with the state, the shaman’s power as manifest in the symbolic construction of zayaans appears to be innovative and challenging, and conducive to an overall adaptation to the inter-related interests of the individual and the state.

Did the symbolic construction of zayaans in the pre-soviet period have an impact on subsequent social processes in the course of the twentieth century, for instance, on the respective status of men and women in the preservation of

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tradition and adaptation to change? More precisely, does the soviet and post-soviet history confirm the argument proposed in this chapter that the Ekhirit-Bulagat’s highly patrifocal and male-oriented society adapted to acculturation and change through its female members, which was resisted by its male members?48 How does the emergence of the individual subject in our times relate to the promotion of individuals as zaayans in the beyond one century ago? And do the present-day self-proclaimed shamans who claim to both represent Buryat tradition and help individuals to adapt to modernity still deal with previous zayaans or promote new zayaans in their practices? And finally, is there continuity between the construction of zayaans as imaginary figures of power and that of the epic hero Geser as an imaginary power figure and a national emblem in the Buryat Republic in the 1990s? All these questions could be fruitfully explored in further studies.

48 Many other factors, most probably, played a part in the fact that, nowadays, one century after the blossoming of female zajaans, more women accede to positions of responsibility and more young men commit suicide.

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A Challenging Technique Involving Imaginary Figures of Power among the Pre-Soviet West-Buryats1

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