Culture-Bound Syndromes in Popular Culture (Routledge Research in Cultural and Media Studies) [1 ed.] 1032452684, 9781032452685

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Culture-Bound Syndromes in Popular Culture

This volume explores culture-bound syndromes, defined as a pattern of symptoms (mental, physical, and/or relational) experienced only by members of a specific cultural group and recognized as a disorder by members of those groups, and their coverage in popular culture. Encompassing a wide range of popular culture genres and mediums – from film and TV to literature, graphic novels, and anime – the chapters offer a dynamic mix of approaches to analyze how popular culture has engaged with specific culture-bound syndromes such as hwabyung, hikikomori, taijin kyofusho, zou huo ru mo, sati, amok, Cuban hysteria, voodoo death, and others. Spanning a global and interdisciplinary remit, this first-of-its-kind anthology will allow scholars and students of popular culture, media and film studies, comparative literature, medical humanities, cultural psychiatry, and philosophy to explore simultaneously a diversity of popular cultures and culturally rooted mental health disorders. Cringuta Irina Pelea is Lecturer in Communication Studies at Titu Maiorescu University, Romania. Her major research and teaching interests are popular culture, intercultural communication, Japanese studies, and public relations. She is the editor of the present volume, Culture-Bound Syndromes in Popular Culture, and has forthcoming chapters in the volumes Confronting Conformity: Gender Fluidity in Japanese Arts & Culture and Routledge Companion to Literature and Social Justice. She can be followed on Instagram @prof.irina.pelea.

Routledge Research in Cultural and Media Studies

Bias, Belief, and Conviction in an Age of Fake Facts Edited by Anke Finger and Manuela Wagner Reasserting the Disney Brand in the Streaming Era A Critical Examination of Disney+ Robert Alan Brookey, Jason Phillips and Tim Pollard True Crime in American Media Edited by George S. Larke-Walsh Branding Berlin From Division to the Cultural Capital of Europe Katrina Sark Sustainable Resilience in Women’s Film and Video Organizations A Counter-Lineage in Moving Image History Rosanna Maule London as Screen Gateway Edited by Elizabeth Evans and Malini Guha Social Media and the Cultural Politics of Korean Pop Culture in East Asia Sunny Yoon Desire and Consent in Representations of Adolescent Sexuality with Adults Edited by Maureen Turim and Diane Waldman Culture-Bound Syndromes in Popular Culture Edited by Cringuta Irina Pelea

Culture-Bound Syndromes in Popular Culture

Edited by Cringuta Irina Pelea

First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 selection and editorial matter, Cringuta Irina Pelea; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Cringuta Irina Pelea to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Pelea, Cringuta Irina, editor. Title: Culture-bound syndromes in popular culture / edited by Cringuta Irina Pelea. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2024. | Series: Routledge research in cultural and media studies | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Identifiers: LCCN 2023022036 (print) | LCCN 2023022037 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032452685 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032458816 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003379096 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Mental illness in mass media. | Mass media and culture. | Culture—Psychological aspects. Classification: LCC P96.M45 C85 2024 (print) | LCC P96.M45 (ebook) | DDC 302.23—dc23/eng/20230727 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023022036 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023022037 ISBN: 978-1-032-45268-5 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-45881-6 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-37909-6 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096 Typeset in Sabon LT Pro by codeMantra

Contents

List of Figures List of Contributors Acknowledgments List of Abbreviations

Introduction: Towards a New Research Paradigm in Popular Culture

ix xi xv xvii

1

CRINGUTA IRINA PELEA

PART I

East Asia17   1 When Repressed Anger Fights Back: Hwabyung in Korean Popular Culture

19

SEONGHA RHEE

  2 Human Encaged: Hikikomori and Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture

39

CRINGUTA IRINA PELEA

  3 A Qigong-Induced Mental Disorder: Zou Huo Ru Mo in Chinese Popular Culture LIU JINXIU

62

vi Contents PART II

India and Southeast Asia81   4 Cultural Syndromes in India: Understanding Widow Burning in Sati and Jauhar through Indian Literature

83

PRACHI PRIYANKA

  5 The Yakshi Syndrome in Indian Popular Culture: Representation of Possessed Female Bodies in Indian Cinema

106

RAJ SONY JALARAJAN AND ADITH K. SURESH

  6 Seeking the Maternal Uncle: A Study of the Culture-Bound Syndrome Known as Nihu in the Karbis

124

SERMILY TERANGPI

  7 Old but Still Going Strong: Don Khong in Thai Popular Culture

145

KULTIDA KHAMMEE

  8 Rethinking Amok: Indigenous Identity Affirmation in Malay Legends of Southeast Asia

164

HANNAH M. Y. HO

PART III

America and Native American Culture181   9 The Next Frame Could Be My Redemption: Signature Wounds and Tunnel-Vision Haunt War-Themed Cultural Artifacts

183

MYRA TATUM SALCEDO

10 Wendigo Psychosis: From Colonial Fabrication to Popular Culture Appropriations and Indigenous Reclamations

203

VIVIENNE TAILOR

11 Cuban Hysteria: Tracing the Invention of a Culture-Bound Syndrome (1798–1830) ROSELI ROJO

224

Contents  vii 12 Digital Culture-Bound Syndromes: A Sociocultural Perspective on Human-Technology Interaction, Mental Health, and Communication

243

CRINGUTA IRINA PELEA

PART IV

Africa and the Middle East265 13 To Kill or to Resurrect: Screening the Agency of Voodoo Priests, Sorcerers and Men of God in Cameroonian and Nigerian Films

267

FLORIBERT PATRICK C. ENDONG

14 Belief in the Existence of the Jinn as a Cultural Syndrome: The Case of Sadeq Hedayat’s Fiction

284

MASOUD FARAHMANDFAR AND SAMAN TAHERI

15 Ghostly Environments: Faru Rab and the Transnational in Atlantics (2019)

299

CHELSEA WESSELS

Index

315

Figures

0.1 Geographical distribution of culture-bound syndromes addressed in the volume (approximate location). The numbers reflect the order of the chapters 6 1.1 Portrait of King Seonjo with a military felt-hat (authenticity contested; drawn c. 1592–1598). Published with the permission of Imjin War ­Cultural Heritage Foundation, Inc 21 1.2  A modern portrait of Prince Sado, courtesy of Beom Young Baek 24 2.1 The cover of the first volume of “Welcome to the N.H.K.” Courtesy of manga artist Kenji Oiwa and author Tatsuhiko Takimoto 43 2.2  The official banner of “Pull Stay” video game. Front angle: the hikikomori protagonist. Courtesy of the producer Nito Souji 48 2.3  The cover of the first manga volume: “Kuma Miko.” Courtesy of Masume Yoshimoto 53 2.4 The inseparable bonding between Machi and Kuma (the bear). Courtesy of Masume Yoshimoto 54 3.1 Hanging scroll of Emperor Shizong, Ming Dynasty (1368–1644) 69 3.2  Portrait of Yongzheng Emperor. By an unidentified artist Chinese, nineteenth century 71 4.1 Suttee. Gouache painting by an Indian artist, ca. 1880 84 4.2 Shiva with Sati seated in a Lotus Blossom. Dated since the early 1800s 86 4.3 La Porte Ouverte. Illustration by Roger Abraham. Dated since 1670 93 4.4 Suttee, with Lord Hastings shown as accepting bribes to allow its continuation. Coloured aquatint by T. Rowlandson, 1815 96 5.1 An artwork depicting Yakshi as a Nature Divinity 110 5.2  A figure of Yakshi from the Kshatrapa period (c. 20 BC–AD 114) in South India 116 5.3  A figure of Yakshi with Dwarf Hermaphrodite from the Shunga period (c. 187–78 BC) in India 119

x Figures 6.1 An elderly Karbi woman 6.2 A Karbi youth beating a drum 6.3 Karbi girls playing tug of war during a festival 6.4 Karbi girls in Karbi traditional attire 7.1 Buddhist and animistic amulets. Photograph by the author 7.2 Mother Earth squeezing her wet hair. Photograph by the author 8.1 The front cover of Maslin Jukim’s anthology featuring the short story of “Alip and Ikas” 9.1 Denial and detachment on the post-deployment health assessment form 9.2  Abe stares into a mirror seeing a fragmented self with conflicting terms written on his face such as hero and murderer 10.1 Note the visceral, physical battle that visualizes this tale of battling psychological darkness 10.2 The uncle tells the nephew the narrative of Doris and Lily and their battle against the wendigo-husband 10.3 An alternative movie poster of the movie “Don’t Say Its Name” 11.1 “San Diego’s Baños” by Frédéric Mialhe 11.2 “Casa de Beneficencia (Habana)” by Frédéric Mialhe 11.3 La Moda o Recreo Semanal del Bello Sexo (1831) 14.1 A photograph of Sadeq Hedayat: The last one he posted from Paris to his family in Tehran (1951)

126 128 138 141 149 153 171 193 194 216 217 219 230 231 236 287

Contributors

Floribert Patrick C. Endong holds a Ph.D. in Theatre and Media Arts from the University of Calabar in Nigeria. He teaches undergraduate and graduate courses in cinema and TV studies at the University of Dschang in ­ Cameroon. He edited Popular Representation of America in Non-­ American Media (2019) among other books. Masoud Farahmandfar is Assistant Professor of English literature at Allameh Tabataba’i University (ATU) in Iran. He teaches courses on comparative literature and is also interested in Orientalism and the relationship between history and nationhood in contemporary literature. He has written many articles and translated into Persian several books on Orientalism and comparative literature and has recently contributed a chapter (“Edward Said and Humanism”) to The Routledge Companion to Humanism and ­Literature (2022). Hannah M. Y. Ho is an assistant professor at the Faculty of Arts and Social Science at the University of Brunei Darussalam, Brunei Darussalam. She holds a Ph.D. from the University of York, United Kingdom. Her research fellowships include those completed at Kings’ College London and the University of California, Berkeley. Raj Sony Jalarajan is an assistant professor at the Department of Communication, MacEwan University, Edmonton, Canada. Dr. Raj is a professional journalist turned academic who has worked in different demanding positions as a reporter, special correspondent, and producer in several news media channels. Liu Jinxiu has been an assistant professor at Hezhou University, Guangxi, China, since 2008. She completed her Ph.D. from the Centre for English Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, India. Her research areas cover Indo-China relations, Chinese Culture and Literature, and Contemporary American Literature.

xii Contributors Kultida Khammee is Lecturer at the Department of English, School of L ­ iberal Arts, University of Phayao, Thailand. She earned the M.A. degree in ­English from Chiang Rai Rajabhat University and is a doctoral candidate in Applied Linguistics, Mahidol University. Her primary research interests are English education, cultural linguistics, and cognitive linguistics. Cringuta Irina Pelea is Lecturer in Communication Studies at Titu Maiorescu University, Romania. Her major research and teaching interests are popular culture, intercultural communication, Japanese studies, and public relations. She is the editor of the present volume, Culture-Bound Syndromes in Popular Culture, and has forthcoming chapters in the volumes Confronting Conformity: Gender Fluidity in Japanese Arts & Culture and Routledge Companion to Literature and Social Justice. She can be followed on Instagram @prof.irina.pelea. Prachi Priyanka is Assistant Professor in the School of Humanities and Social Sciences, Sharda University, India. Author of three books, Dr. Priyanka finds her interest in intertextuality and visual culture, Indian literature in translation, and Partition narratives. Her academic papers have been published in association with Routledge and Scopus journals. Seongha Rhee is Professor of Linguistics at the Faculty of Liberal Arts, Mahidol University, Thailand, and Professor Emeritus of Hankuk University of Foreign Studies, Korea. His primary research interest is to identify cognitive and discursive mechanisms that enable language change from the crosslinguistic and typological perspectives. Roseli Rojo is Assistant Professor of Caribbean Studies at SUNY-Oswego, United States, and holds a Ph.D. in Spanish from Rutgers University (2021). She is the author of Narrating Abya Yala to Children (2020), winner of the Pinos Nuevos Essay Prize. Her research centers on Caribbean women and Afro-descendant agencies. Myra Tatum Salcedo, Ph.D. in Rhetoric/Composition, and Senior Lecturer at the University of Texas Permian Basin, United States, developed “The Rhetoric of Religion: Teaching, Not Preaching” course and served as a 2022 National Naylor Workshop mentor on social justice. Her research includes graphic novels, disability studies, and visual rhetoric. Adith K. Suresh is currently associating as a research assistant at the Department of Communication, MacEwan University. Adith holds a master’s degree in English Language and Literature from Mahatma Gandhi University. His research interest includes Film Studies, Literary Criticism, and South Asian Cultural Studies.

Contributors  xiii Saman Taheri has received both his BA and MA degrees in English literature from Shahid Beheshti University in Iran. He is interested in comparative literature and cultural studies and hopes to pursue his studies for a Ph.D. program in comparative literature. Vivienne Tailor is an Irish-American scholar hoping to contribute to decolonizing the appropriated wendigo mythology. She holds a Cultural S­ tudies MA from Claremont Graduate University, United States, with a Film ­Studies MFA and an English BA. Her work centers on healing trauma through art and the re/creation of memory and identities. Sermily Terangpi is Assistant Professor of the Department of English at DDR College, Chabua, India. She contributed to the translation of Karbi folktales into English in Karbi Studies, Vol:3 (2012), and translated two Karbi short stories into English in In Search of Drongo and Other Stories (2016) and works of two prominent Karbi Writers into English in the book The Cross Road and Other Translated Karbi Stories (2016). Chelsea Wessels is Assistant Professor in the Literature and Language Department and Co-Director of the Film and Media Studies minor at East ­Tennessee State University (United States). Her research interests include local cinema history and archives, global film genres, and feminist film.

Acknowledgments

This volume has only been possible through the support of the entire ­publishing team at Routledge and Taylor & Francis – I am grateful to our amazing acquisition editor, Suzanne Richardson, for the continuous help and encouraging feedback I received in seeing this anthology through to publication, and to her kind editorial assistant, Stuti Goel. Overall, I wish to extend my gratitude to all the other members of the editorial team: Albeit your names may not be on the cover of this book, you have invested precious time, energy, and effort into this editorial project. From the bottom of my heart, I would also like to thank all of the contributors for their hard work, patience, and diligent efforts: Floribert Patrick C. Endong, Masoud Farahmandfar, Hannah M. Y. Ho, Raj Sony J­ alarajan, Liu Jingxiu, Kultida Khammee, Prachi Priyanka, Seongha Rhee, Roseli Rojo, Myra Tatum Salcedo, Adith K. Suresh, Saman Taheri, Vivienne Tailor, ­Sermily Terangpi, and Chelsea Wessels. I am honoured that you chose to have confidence in me as the editor, and I wish you all the very best in your future (academic) endeavors. Next, I am utmost grateful to Kenji Oiwa, Nito Souji, Tatsuhiko ­Takimoto, and Masume Yoshimoto, for graciously granting me permission to use quotes, images, and posters of their extraordinary works for the second chapter of this anthology. My heartfelt thanks are due to Amanda Sikarskie as well, for inspiring me with her flawless editorial working style in a previous Routledge project. Last, but not least, I will be forever grateful, especially, to my mother, Gratziella – Sinia Davidica, for her unyielding love, and tireless support, and for continuously encouraging me throughout this editorial project. Likewise, my gratitude to my grandparents, Elena and Ion Davidica for their nurturing and loving lifetime contribution to what I have become. My acknowledgment goes as well to the Nastasie family: Isabella – Vyoleta, Ingrid – Brindusa, and Alfred – Florentin, for their guidance, invaluable trust, and confidence in me and my work. And, of course, to Muna. The Editor Cringuta Irina Pelea

Abbreviations

AD ADHD BC BCE BFRB CBS CBSs COVID-19 DCBS DCBSs DSM

FOMO HBC NHK OEF OIF PTSD RTB SAD SNS TBI THB USA USD UK

Anno Domini (after the birth of Jesus Christ) attention deficit hyperactivity disorder before Christ before the Christian era body-focused repetitive behavior(s) culture-bound syndrome culture-bound syndromes coronavirus disease of 2019 digital culture-bound syndrome digital culture-bound syndromes Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, published by the American Psychiatric Association (APA), to classify mental disorders based on a common language and standard criteria. fear of missing out Hudson Bay Company Japan Broadcasting Corporation Operation Enduring Freedom Operation Iraqi Freedom post-traumatic stress disorder Radio Television Brunei social anxiety disorder social networking service traumatic brain injury Thai baht United States of America United States dollar United Kingdom

Introduction Towards a New Research Paradigm in Popular Culture Cringuta Irina Pelea

To the best of our knowledge, this volume is the first to address culture-bound syndromes within the context of popular culture(s). Despite the vast majority of published scholarly articles in medical anthropology, ethnomedicine, or cultural psychiatry, no comprehensive examination or extended study of culture-bound syndromes within popular culture has been published until this moment. This critical gap is somewhat surprising, considering that the topic of mental illness in (popular) culture is vast and has generated intense interest since ancient times. The relatively large number of contributions to the above-mentioned fields tackling such folk illnesses indicates the prior invisibility of this phenomenon within cultural studies, interrupted only by the (academic) curiosity of the human living in the new media age. Therefore, this edited collection aims at fruitfully diminishing, albeit not yet necessarily actually filling, this considerably wide academic gap, and it does so by taking popular culture texts as a core consideration. From this perspective, the volume offers a unique and innovative contribution to cultural studies by examining for the first time culture-bound syndromes as repositories of popular culture. Culture-Bound Syndromes in Popular Culture takes its readers on a journey across (popular) cultures and introduces them to an entirely new subfield of studies, at the convergence of popular culture, medical anthropology, ethnomedicine, and (trans)cultural psychiatry, focusing thus on cultural illnesses. The chapters aim to provide in-depth and analytical insight into the ubiquitous representations of cultural imagery and narratives of various cultural syndromes through the lens of global and national popular culture, covering film, television, TV documentaries, TV series, social media, visual arts, modern literature, popular music, graphic novels, cartoons, manga, anime, fashion, and many more. By encompassing a wide range of popular culture genres and mediums, we seek to provide a dynamic mix of approaches to analyze how popular culture engages with specific culture-bound syndromes from ­ olitical, various geographical regions, each one with its historical, social, p and cultural particularities. DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-1

2  Cringuta Irina Pelea As the essays in this first-of-its-kind anthology will demonstrate, this distinctive and new approach allows scholars from varied academic backgrounds (communication sciences, cultural studies, film studies, linguistics, literature, journalism, fashion studies, and postcolonial studies – to name a few) to explore simultaneously a diversity of popular cultures and culturally rooted mental health disorders. Culture-Bound Syndrome: Definition, Typology, and Controversies What does a culture-bound syndrome mean? Also referred to as a “cultural syndrome,” “folk illness,” “exotic psychosis,”1 “ethnic neurosis,”2 “psychogenic psychosis,”3 or, from the modern perspective, “cultural concept or idiom of distress,”4 this concept has come to define a pattern of symptoms (mental, physical, and/or relational) experienced only by members of a specific cultural group and recognized as a disorder by members of those groups.5 These atypical “forms of psychopathology restricted to specific areas or cultures”6 have been ethnographically and historically documented since as early as the Vedic times (1500–1100 BCE).7 Nevertheless, professor Pow Meng Yap holds the merit for attributing in 1967 the label of “culture-bound syndrome” or “culture-bound reactive syndrome” (CBS)8 to such culturally embedded psychiatric disorders, arguing that these “forms of psychopathology”9 hold a distinct position within the field of psychiatry. As such, “their symptom patterns are unusual and are determined by cultural factors in both form and frequency.”10 “Produced by certain systems of implicit values, social structure and obviously shared beliefs indigenous to certain areas,”11 they stand apart from the Western mainstream psychiatric conditions.12 Furthermore, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) series includes and acknowledges CBSs as a distinct pathology. Starting with the publication of DSM-4, the CBS is defined as “recurrent, locality‑specific patterns of aberrant behavior and troubling experience (…) generally limited to specific societies or culture areas and are localized, folk, diagnostic categories that frame coherent meanings for certain repetitive, patterned, and troubling sets of experiences and observations.”13 Regardless of some inevitable degree of controversial ambiguity in defining CBSs, several characteristics have been constantly associated with this complex concept:14 – very clearly delimited geographical localization; – limitation to a specific ethnic and cultural group that shares a solid historical and identity background and heritage; – symptomatology enhanced or triggered by local cultural factors (customs, values, social norms, mythology) and folk-based treatment; – local naming or a certain difficulty in translating it; – recognition within the cultural group as a consistent deviation from what is internally perceived as mentally and physically “healthy.”

Introduction  3 Furthermore, the typology and categorization of CBSs are quintessential in aiding our comprehension of these phenomena. Whereas some degree of overlapping is somewhat inevitable, several categories can be identified, according to one such proposal of classification: “true syndromes,” “illnesses of attribution,” and “idioms of distress.”15 The true syndromes can be classified according to the most predominant symptom:16 – dissociative phenomena (amok, falling out, latah, Arctic hysteria, shinbyung, etc.); – anxiety states (ataque de nervios, dhat, koro, taijin kyofusho, etc.); – affective/somatoform disorders (brain fag, shenjing shuairuo); – psychotic states (bouffée délirante, Qigong psychosis). The illnesses of attribution connect a cluster of mysterious physical and emotional symptoms and signs to external supernatural forces and are usually induced by:17 – – – –

anger (hwabyung; colera); fright (susto); witchcraft (ghost sickness, voodoo death); evil eye (mal de ojo).

The idioms of distress are associated with one’s emotional vulnerability, making one prone to develop “a wide variety of physical and emotional illnesses,” such as the Latin American folk illnesses known as nervios and locura.18 Nonetheless, it is our utmost belief that many CBSs remain undocumented or even not properly recorded, for lack of proper academic and historical resources or sufficient ethnographic and anthropologic expertise. At least two such examples come to our minds. First, prairie madness, also known as prairie fever or cabin fever, fits all the criteria of a CBS and yet continues to remain labeled as a “peculiar mental illness.”19 Recorded in the Oxford English Dictionary since the nineteenth century,20 this atypical mental disorder is a well “documented phenomenon,”21 and signifies a complex mental health issue experienced in the nineteenth century exclusively by the immigrants settling the Great Plains. More specifically, they manifested a constellation of symptoms attributable to depression, violent and erratic behavior, and even suicide.22 According to the historical accounts23 and literary sources of that time,24 the triggering factors for such symptomatology were “the unceasing and loud sound of the winds” (the main source of complaint of the settlers),25 “the empty vastness of the prairie,” “the isolation,” along with the “harsh weather,” and other “unfamiliar hazards such as grasshopper plagues, prairie fires, and drought.”26 Nevertheless, the prairie madness ceased to exist once with the development of transportation and rapid urban expansion. Therefore, we will propose hereby, for the first time, to include the prairie madness under

4  Cringuta Irina Pelea the broad conceptual umbrella of CBSs. As such, this phenomenon was­ constricted to a specific cultural and minority group (the settlers on the ­Western frontier), who manifested a distinct and atypical pathology attributed by the sufferers to a shared and atypical cause (the sound of the wind), within a clearly delimited geographic placement and period of time (the seventeenth to nineteenth century). The second example of what we consider an unlabeled CBS is the ­Tokoloshe attack.27 Widely recognized in South Africa as a mythical evil goblin endowed with harmful mysterious forces, Tokoloshe, alternatively named Tikoloshe or Tokolosi, is a dwarf-resembling water spirit that attacks and possesses its victims, who exhibit erratic (sexually) aggressive behavior and complain of having hallucinations of this mischievous creature. The attacks of this supernatural figure rooted in the Zulu and Xhosa mythology have generated on a local level frequent mass hysteria episodes, which can be successfully dealt with by local traditional medicine men employing folk healing methods. If one undeniably acknowledges jinn possession as a CBS, shouldn’t we ponder upon the Tokoloshe attacks in the same manner, in light of the above-mentioned characteristics? Finally, several fundamental controversial aspects surrounding CBSs are worth briefly mentioning.28 One such thorny issue, which frequently ignites a firestorm of controversy, is the occasional “diagnostic overlap of CBSs with existing psychiatric disorders.”29 The ambiguous boundaries, substantially different approaches, and disperse theoretical perspectives regarding the classification of CBSs30 hold their share of contribution in increasing the already existing skepticism toward these disorders. Furthermore, another critical aspect is the recognition of CBSs as independent and separate from “the already existing diagnostic entities.”31 Regardless of such occasional critical opinions, we believe that CBSs should be treated as an independent and autonomous concept from the standard mental illness, thus having its peculiarities. As a personal observation, we will conclude by highlighting the dynamic character of CBSs. In the context of globalization, remarkable technological progress, accelerated urbanization, and dissimilar media trends, some of these cultural syndromes fail to remain restrained to a single geographically delimited space or specific societies and ethnic groups, and we witness the emergence of new culturally specific illnesses shaped mainly by the prolific evolution of the digital landscape. Focus and Organization of this Book. At the Intersection of Popular Culture How do CBSs rearticulate the narratives of traditional cultural imaginaries in the increasingly dynamic context of globalization, hybrid media platforms, and unceasing transnational and transborder media flow? How does popular culture reconfigure CBSs as multifarious receptacles embodying national and collective emotions, anxieties, and shared historically construed cultural legacies?

Introduction  5 Considering these critical research questions, this book encompasses a wide and comprehensive range of case studies, subjects, texts, and cultural practices that lie at the intersection of folk illnesses and cultural studies and include national, transnational, and international media representations, with an accent on the reception and interpretation of the phenomenon from the perspective of its original space. As such, the main objective of this edited collection is to cover popular cultural representations of CBSs while focusing as much as possible on the nonWestern spaces to afford its readers a deeper understanding of the topic and an opportunity to experience cultural authenticity. Nevertheless, the rich, detailed survey of non-Western popular cultures regarding the proposed subject does not exclude examining the Western or American counterparts, with their specific mediums, products, and closely related representations. Moreover, panoramic case studies on the same cultural illness will allow our readers to enhance their comprehension by drawing similarities and differences in culturally diverse audiovisual consumption patterns of a diversity of media genres. The rationale behind the motivation and structure of this collection is more than to present and question an array of geographically dispersed cultural syndromes, but to explore and investigate how various pop culture genres, products, literary texts, and media sources surpass the Western geographies to nest or confiscate and reconfigure these cultural and psychological anomalies on a worldwide scale. Our division of the chapters into four parts (East Asia; India and S­ outheast Asia; America and Native American culture; Africa and the Middle East) attempts to group the essays as representative of significant global geographical areas. All the chapters are self-contained and can be read thus in any order. While no section is dedicated explicitly to Europe or Australia, ­Chapters 9 and 12 cover cultural syndromes associated with the European and Australian continents. The first part, “East Asia,” contains three chapters that examine in-depth the most representative cultural syndromes located in this geographical region: hwabyung (South Korea), hikikomori, taijin kyofusho (Japan), and zou huo ru mo (China). The second part, “India and Southeast Asia,” comprises five chapters and discusses sati, jauhar, (North India) yakshi (South India), nihu (the Karbi tribe in northeast India), don khong (Thailand), and amok (Malaysia and Brunei Darussalam). The third part focuses on “America and Native American Culture” and encompasses four chapters analyzing signature wounds and PTSD (the USA, France, and the UK), wendigo psychosis (Canada, the Algonquin tribe), Cuban hysteria (Cuba, Latin America), and digital culture-bound syndromes (worldwide, during the COVID-19 pandemic). The final part, “Africa and the Middle East,” consists of three chapters, which grant the readers the opportunity to explore voodoo death (Nigeria and Cameroon), the jinn (Iran), and faru rab (Senegal).

Legend: 1. South Korea: hwabyung, 2. Japan: hikikomori and taijin kyofusho, 3. China: zou huo ru mo, 4. India (north): sati and jauhar, 5. India (south): yakshi, 6. India – the Karbi tribe (northeast): nihu kachiri, 7. Thailand: don khong, 8. Malaysia and Brunei Darussalam: amok, 9. The USA, the UK, and France: signature wounds, 10. Canada (Native American tribes): wendigo psychosis, 11. Cuba: Cuban hysteria, 12. Worldwide: digital culture-bound syndromes, 13. Nigeria and Cameroon: voodoo death, 14. Iran: jinn possession, 15. Senegal: faru rab.

Figure 0.1 Geographical distribution of culture-bound syndromes addressed in the volume (approximate location). The numbers reflect the order of the chapters

6  Cringuta Irina Pelea

Introduction  7 Overview of Chapters Part 1: East Asia

The volume opens with Seongha Rhee’s essay on the most representative Korean cultural illness, hwabyung, which, in literal translation, means “fire syndrome” (Chapter 1 – “When Repressed Anger Fights Back: Hwabyung in Korean Popular Culture”). Recognized as a common medical condition triggered by repressed anger, it is associated with diverse somatic and psychological symptomatology, from headache, indigestion, anxiety, depression, panic attacks, and nervous breakdown to even death. Regardless of the increased significance of hwabyung not only in Korean traditional culture but also in nowadays society, this topic has received no attention whatsoever until this moment from the perspective of popular culture. In an attempt to diminish this considerable academic gap, the researcher will explore this Korean cultural syndrome from a social and modern perspective, by diving into both traditional and contemporary Korean cultural landscape and society: chronologically structured literary works (classical literature, ­Hanjunglok, new novels – “sinsoseol” – and early modern literature), films, self-help books, news, etc. The editor’s first contribution introduces two significant Japanese culturebound syndromes: hikikomori and taijin kyofusho, both reflecting the accurate condition of nowadays-Japanese society (Chapter 2 – “Human Encaged: Hikikomori and Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture”). Whereas hikikomori signifies a state of acute social withdrawal, taijin kyofusho represents another form of anthropophobia, otherwise unique and culturally adapted to Japan’s sociocultural and strict, rigid, normative context. This study seeks to examine the social and media (re-)constructions of these two folk illnesses in a wide variety of Japanese popular culture genres and products: Japanese literature, anime, manga, film, TV dramas, and documentaries. One of the major conclusions is that Japanese popular culture functions as an appropriate, complex, and multilayered engine of social and mental progress, for addressing the nation’s most important cultural syndromes, together with a wide array of lurking and deeply embedded national and individual anxieties. Liu Jingxiu completes the section dedicated to East Asia with her investigation of a Chinese culture-bound syndrome, zou huo ru mo, through the lens of Chinese popular culture (Chapter 3 – “A Qigong-Induced Mental ­Disorder: Zou Huo Ru Mo in Chinese Popular Culture”). This folk illness can be traced back to the Qing Dynasty (1636–1912) in Zhang’s Medical Book, written by Zhang Lu, and in Cao Xueqin’s canonical novel The Red Mansion. Regarded as a form of “devil possession,” it is considered a mental and pathological problem triggered by insufficient knowledge and inadequate practice while performing Qi exercises, which otherwise represent one of the pillars of practice in Chinese martial arts. The essay will explore the

8  Cringuta Irina Pelea visual and narrative representations of zou huo ru mo in various modern Chinese popular culture texts, such as the martial arts novels, cinema, and in particular, the wuxia genre. Part 2: India and Southeast Asia

Sati and jauhar, ritualized practices of suicide as self-immolation from North India are analyzed in depth by Prachi Priyanka in a wide variety of literary texts, memorial scriptures, and bard literature of local tradition (Chapter 4 – “Cultural Syndromes in India: Understanding Widow Burning in Sati and Jauhar through Indian Literature”). With a long-standing and controversial history, sati represents the act of self-immolation performed by the North Indian widow as a form of devotion, commitment, and faithfulness towards one’s recently deceased husband. An equally sensitive topic, the custom of jauhar is the mass suicide committed by Hindu Rajput women to avoid enslavement, and physical or sexual torture, which they would have faced after being defeated in battle by foreign invaders. The glorification of women committing sati raised questions in postcolonial and contemporary India, turning this phenomenon into an unceasing controversy over the implications it has for the Hindu religion, national identity, and cultural heritage. The following essay by Sony Jalarajan Raj and Adith K. Suresh marks a smooth transition from the North Indian woman as a martyr who self-­sacrifices for honor, portrayed in the previous study, to the demon-possessed feminine figure as depicted in the South Indian Cinema (Chapter 5 – “The Yakshi ­Syndrome in Indian Popular Culture: Representation of Possessed Female Bodies in Indian Cinema”). The yakshi cultural syndrome stands for the “female ghost” and reveals the monstrous and threatening feminine identity, encompassing thus specific desires, fears, and shared cultural anxieties intimately reflecting India’s rich mythology and millenary historical background. The researchers will focus on cultural texts from the Malayalam cinema, a south Indian regional film industry well known for reinforcing the visual imagery of the feminine body within a morally conservative cultural frame. Sermily Terangpi introduces and explores nihu as a folk illness characteristic of the Karbi tribe, an indigenous community located in Northeast India (Chapter 6 – “Seeking the Maternal-Uncle: A Study of the Culturebound Syndrome Known as Nihu in Karbis”). Nihu presents a wide range of somatic and psychical symptoms, such as absentmindedness, anemia, and pronounced aggressiveness, and can lead to extreme madness if one does not endow respect and bestow obeisance to the maternal uncle. It can be cured by performing rigorous socioreligious rituals, of one which is the needful feeding of rice balls by the maternal uncle. As an attempt to answer the paucity of English-language academic research on this topic, this essay reflects on the indigenous representations of nihu in authentic Karbi literature, music, and oral folklore, an academic endeavor supported by the native linguistic competence of the scholar.

Introduction  9 Kultida Khammee turns our attention to Southeast Asia and covers an unknown cultural syndrome that is the epitome of both historical and modern Thailand: don khong (Chapter 7 – “Old but Still Going Strong: Don Khong in Thai Popular Culture”). Albeit its relevance is repudiated by fundamental Buddhists, this Thai culture-bound syndrome shares an intimate historical and ideological connection with the Buddhist doctrine. What leads to the outbreak of don khong are powerful forces conjured through ancient, culturally specific black-specific witchcraft rituals, which possess the victim’s body, making one exhibit symptoms such as desperation, forgetfulness, heart palpitations, numbness, and bodily aches. The scholar seeks to examine don khong, also known as thuk khun sai, in four pieces of popular literature: one of the most celebrated Thai poems, the epic Khun Chang Khun Phaen (1872), Rang Phra Ruang (2006), Dek Kamphra Haeng Suang Sawan (2006), and Athan Namman Phi (2014). The analysis goes further to explore the multifaceted and colorful representations of this folk illness in a wide range of Thai popular culture genres. The section on India and Southeast Asia is concluded by Hannah M. Y. Ho’s essay on amok with its rich legacy embodying a complex register of postcolonial tensions, national conflicts, and social fractures as reflected in Malay popular culture. (Chapter 8 – “Rethinking Amok: Indigenous Identity Affirmation in Malay Legends of Southeast Asia”). Characterized by a period of depression and followed by the occurrence of a sudden mass assault and amnesia, amok stands out as a culture-bound syndrome exclusively associated with Southeast Asia (Malaysia, Indonesia, Brunei Darussalam, and India). Through a postcolonial lens, the researcher investigates representations of this folk illness within the context of regional popular culture, with a focus on Malay and Bruneian legends (Hang Jebat and Alip and Ikas), and embarks toward a deconstructive analysis of this trope, which has served for a long time the colonialist ideology of othering. Part 3: America and Native American Culture

Myra Tatum Salcedo attempts to remind readers of the healing power of visual imagery in her analysis of signature wounds and other associated warinduced cultural traumas in comics and graphic novels (Chapter 9 – “The Next Frame Could Be My Redemption: Signature Wounds and TunnelVision Haunt War-Themed Cultural Artifacts”). Employed as an umbrella concept for war-associated mental, yet invisible injuries such as PTSD (posttraumatic stress disorder), TBI (traumatic brain injury), major depression, and escalating suicide rates, the signature wounds are common among war veterans, soldiers, and, overall, US military personnel. After a brief theoretical introduction, the essay explores how comics and graphic novels depict the visual and narrative intricacies of signature wounds and the related hallmarks, which incorporate and memorialize the psychological trauma of war: the hypervigilance, the tunnel vision, the memory gaps, the guilt of surviving and the post-traumatic growth.

10  Cringuta Irina Pelea A strongly articulated critique of popular culture appropriations and racialized (mis)representations is central to Vivienne Tailor’s discussion of wendigo psychosis as a cultural syndrome of the Native American tribe Algonquin, which is located mainly in Canada and the North-eastern USA (Chapter 10 – “Wendigo Psychosis: From Colonial Fabrication to Popular Culture Appropriations and Indigenous Reclamations”). By definition, this distinctively Algonquian cultural syndrome is regarded as a psychotic episode that devolved into murder and anthropophagy. After tracing the sociohistorical evolution and the indigenous cultural meanings intrinsically associated with the wendigo myth, the research continues by counterbalancing two significant, yet antithetic, directions. On the one hand, the dominant racialized wendigo narratives, which build on the perennial fascination with the trope of cannibalism, hide indigenous traumas such as land theft, cultural desecration, and mass executions. On the other hand, the indigenous creators make a daring attempt of reclaiming and reconfiguring wendigo as a media instrument for collective healing and preservation of an already endangered cultural heritage. In the following study of Cuban hysteria as part of the Latin American family of folk illnesses, Roseli Rojo argues that the invention of hysteria phenomenon with its aftermath in Havana functions as a biopolitical strategy to control women’s bodies (Chapter 11 – “Cuban Hysteria. Tracing the Invention of a Culture-Bound Syndrome (1798–1830)”). As such, white leaders and physicians argued that factors such as dancing, flirting, and consuming fashionable items cause hysteria among young Cuban women. Denominated by local authorities as “petimetras”, women who are blindly devoted to fashion and luxury, their presence insufflated the creation of a new literary genre on the island: The fashion journals for women that would become one of the latest popular ways to subtly convey the female’s role. Nevertheless, the distressing voices of the petimetras are the ones challenging the authoritarian and patriarchal strategies of control underpinned by the leaders of the plantation era in the Cuban nineteenth century. The editor’s final contribution adds a touch of modernity to the staple theme of the present anthology and reconnects the volume to the sociocultural constraints imposed by the accelerated progress of the digitalized society (Chapter 12 – “Digital Culture-Bound Syndromes: A Sociocultural Perspective on Human-Technology Interaction, Mental Health, and Communication”). In the global setting of increased social and emotional vulnerability generated by the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic, the pervasive impact of the tight human-technology dynamics generated social awareness of the potential mental health issues associated with prolonged contact with the digital environment and culture. This study proposes reframing the concept of “culture-bound syndrome” into digital culture-bound syndrome to address the atypical mental health problems confined to digital culture and generated by the extensive use of digital technology. In this regard, specific conditions such as digital self-harm, digital depression, doomscrolling, Zoom

Introduction  11 fatigue, and Zoom or Snapchat dysmorphia are reviewed and analyzed in light of the proposed definition and framing criteria. Part 4: Africa and the Middle East

Floribert Patrick C. Endong connects voodoo death to the narrative tapestry of Nigerian and Cameroonian media and authentic popular culture products, which consciously draw their inspiration from the West African myths, cosmologies, and cultural imaginary about voodoo death and the dead ­(Chapter 13 – “To Kill or to Resurrect: Screening the Agency of Voodoo Priests, ­Sorcerers and Men of God in Cameroonian and Nigerian Films”). Three cultural tropes are frequently employed to add authenticity or a sense of realism to the film productions: “the sorcerers,” who make use of mysterious mystical powers to kill their victims; the native priests, acknowledged as “voodoo oracles,” who hold the sacred mission to prevent the mystical murder; finally, “the men of God,” who combat the actions of such sorcerers and other “satanic deities.” As such, the paper aims for an in-depth introspection into the interweaving of voodoo death as a narrative device arising from the African popular imaginary and the Nollywood and Collywood cinematic content. Highlighting the increasing role of Persian literature in creating, shaping, and strengthening a sense of cultural identity and belonging, Masoud Farahmandfar and Saman Taheri explore the portrayal of the jinn as a culture-bound syndrome in the literary work of Sadeq Hedayat (Chapter 14 – “Belief in the Existence of the Jinn as a Cultural Syndrome: The Case of Sadeq Hedayat’s Fiction”). As a bold literary experimenter and a significant pioneer of modernism in Persian fiction, Sadeq Hedayat defiantly challenges and caustically criticizes millenary superstitions deeply embedded in Iranian society and culture. Among these, it lies the seemingly infallible belief in the existence of the jinn – an invisible, maleficent, and demonic creature, tracing back to pre-Islamic times, with supernatural powers held responsible for inflicting illnesses and the occurrence of bad events. Three of Hedayat’s most important creations are selected for this academic endeavor: Neyrangestān: Persian Folklore (1933), Būf-e Kūr (The Blind Owl, 1937), and Hājī Āqā (Haji Agha, 1945). Chelsea Wessels’ cinematic exploration of faru rab, or lover spirits, a subset of djinns specific to Senegalese folklore, in Mati Diop’s 2019 muchacclaimed film Atlantics, provides a fitting final contribution to the overriding theme of the volume (Chapter 15 – “Ghostly Environments: Faru Rab and the Transnational in Atlantics (2019)”). In this particular movie, the possession of young women by faru rab becomes the central narrative motif and suggests thus an ecofeminist approach, linking the destructive impacts of capitalist “progress,” which leads to the deaths of men who attempt to immigrate to Spain by boat, with the liberation of women through solidarity as they seek retribution. This final chapter argues that through the possession

12  Cringuta Irina Pelea narrative and representation of the faru rab as a cultural syndrome, the film illustrates the way local environments and specific beliefs cannot be separated from global conditions. Final Remarks One of the main characteristics of this volume is its revolutionary and firsttime-ever perspective on cultural syndromes, analyzed within the dynamic sociohistorical landscape of popular culture. Furthermore, in this academic endeavor supported by a collective effort, the contributors will step outside the repetitive, recurrent Hollywood mainstream culture ineluctably reinforced by Western and American franchises and draw attention to the increasing geographic diversity and rich heritage of the popular culture field. Through these rich and diverse essays, the volume hopes to place cultural syndromes within the context of popular culture. What binds this otherwise fairly varied selection of narratives belonging to different spatial, temporal, social, and cultural contexts is its deep popular culture resonances that take shape through the multifaceted media and entertainment genres. Considering CBSs exclusively from the perspective of psychiatry seems to be a very reductive and incomplete approach and does no justice to the considerable intrinsic complexity of such culturally deeply entrenched mental health issues. For this reason, the present anthology proposes thus an alternative reading by reclaiming this multifaceted concept and aims to be interdisciplinary and multidisciplinary in its inquiry into cultural syndromes, a fact also reflected by the rich disciplinary identity of our contributors. Furthermore, each author charged with this scholarly task shares an intimate (if not native) connection to the culture one has tackled. A worth to be mentioned key touchstone for the chapters in this book is that we seek to reattach various CBSs to the modern media contexts by highlighting how folk illnesses are represented in national popular culture(s), from a traditional or contemporary perspective. Bewildered and still dismayed by the recent social events that have taken over the world (the COVID-19 pandemic), this edited collection constitutes an attempt to reconsider the geographical areas of the world from the perspective of cultural illnesses’ distribution, and to ponder the much-needed respect upon each country and the history, culture, and identity of each indigenous community. One of the most challenging decisions for this anthology consisted of selecting the cultural syndromes to be included. Given that an edited collection cannot pretend to cover everything on a specific topic and (sub)field, the present volume does not in any way hope to provide an exhaustive overview of all CBSs. Regardless of our extensive efforts to cover as many global geographical areas as possible, some cultural disorders have had to be omitted or briefly mentioned due to limited space. Therefore, albeit being the first one addressing this topic, this single edited collection does not in any way pretend to cover all the existing CBSs, considering that this scholastic endeavor would

Introduction  13 require no less than a multivolume encyclopedia. Instead, it seeks to imprint a point of entry whereinto at least to begin to consistently analyze how global and regional popular cultures have appropriated cultural syndromes. In aiming to enhance one’s awareness of cultural diversity and richness, this anthology is designed as a framework committed also to the rediscovery of non-American, transnational, underground, or seemingly minor popular cultures, considering their current state-of-art, present, and future trajectories of development. As our selection of chapters will demonstrate, Culture-Bound Syndromes in Popular Culture aims to be a touchstone academic resource and the first of its kind, opening a space for critical discussions on the intersectionality of cultural studies, psychiatry, anthropology, ethnography, and popular culture. Therefore, the volume humbly invites the reader to dive into the topic of culture-bound syndromes and ponder upon the intersections of cultural heritage, mental health, and popular culture. Finally, readers are highly encouraged to express their opinions and suggestions regarding the structure of the present anthology, in terms of completeness, accuracy, or future additions. Those wishing to engage in dialogue are warmly invited to contact the editor of this volume: Cringuta Irina Pelea, at [email protected] Respectfully yours, The Editor Notes 1 Silvano Arieti and Johannes M. Meth, “Rare, Unclassifiable, Collective, and Exotic Psychotic Syndromes,” in American Handbook of Psychiatry, ed. Silvano Arieti, vol. 1 (New York: Basic Books, Inc., 1959), pp. 546–563. 2 George Devereux, “Normal and Abnormal: The Key Problem of Psychiatric Anthropology,” in Some Uses of Anthropology: Theoretical and Applied, ed. J. B. Casagrande and T. Gladwin (Washington, DC: Anthropological Society of Washington, 1956), pp. 30–48. 3 Poul M. Faergeman, Psychogenic Psychoses: A Description and Follow-up of Physchoses Following Psychological Stress (London: Butterworths, 1963). 4 American Psychiatric Association, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders: DSM-5 (Washington DC: American Psychiatric Association, 2013). 5 Jeanne Marecek, “Culture-Bound Disorders,” in Encyclopedia of Critical ­Psychology, ed. T. Teo (New York: Springer, 2014), pp. 356–358. 6 Ruth E. Levine and Albert C. Gaw, “Culture-Bound Syndromes,” Psychiatric Clinics of North America 18, no. 3 (1995): pp. 523–536, https://doi.org/10.1016/ s0193-953x(18)30038-8. 7 Vedic and Ayurvedic literature make references to dhat syndrome (extreme fear of semen loss), emphasizing the importance of preserving one’s semen, otherwise perceived as one of the most essential body elements. 8 Pow Meng Yap, “Classification of the Culture-Bound Reactive Syndromes,” Australian & New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry 1, no. 4 (1967): pp. 172–179, https://doi.org/10.3109/00048676709159191. 9 Pow Meng Yap, “The Culture-Bound Reactive Syndromes,” in Mental Health Research in Asia and the Pacific, ed. W. Caudill and T. Y. Lin (Honolulu: EastWest Center Press, 1969), pp. 33–53.

14  Cringuta Irina Pelea 10 Pow Meng Yap, “Nosological Aspects of the Culture-Bound Syndromes,” in Comparative Psychiatry: A Theoretical Framework, ed. M. P. Lau and A. B. Stokes (Toronto, ON: University of Toronto Press, 1974), pp. 84–110. 11 Pow Meng Yap, “The Culture-Bound Reactive Syndromes,” in Mental Health Research in Asia and the Pacific, ed. W. Caudill and T. Y. Lin (Honolulu: EastWest Center Press, 1969), pp. 33–53. 12 Ruth E. Levine and Albert C. Gaw, “Culture-Bound Syndromes,” Psychiatric Clinics of North America 18, no. 3 (1995): pp. 523–536, https://doi.org/10.1016/ s0193-953x(18)30038-8. 13 American Psychiatric Association, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition: Primary Care Version (Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Association, 2000). 14 Antonio Ventriglio, Oyedeji Ayonrinde, and Dinesh Bhugra, “Relevance of Culture-Bound Syndromes in the 21st Century,” Psychiatry and Clinical Neurosciences 70, no. 1 (2015), https://doi.org/10.1111/pcn.12359. 15 Ruth E. Levine and Albert C. Gaw, “Culture-Bound Syndromes,” Psychiatric Clinics of North America 18, no. 3 (1995): pp. 523–536, https://doi.org/10.1016/ s0193-953x(18)30038-8. 16 Ruth E. Levine and Albert C. Gaw, ibid. 17 Ruth E. Levine and Albert C. Gaw, ibid. 18 Ruth E. Levine and Albert C. Gaw, ibid. 19 Carla Joinson, “Indians, Insanity, and American History Blog,” Indians Insanity and American History Blog, September 11, 2014, https://cantonasylumforinsaneindians.com/history_blog/prairie-madness/. 20 Matt W. Wolff, “(Too) Little House on the (Verge of) Prairie (‘Madness’),” Psychology Today (Sussex Publishers, 2020), https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/ blog/strifes-rich-pageant/202008/too-little-house-the-verge-prairie-madness. 21 Alex D. Velez, “‘The Wind Cries Mary’: The Effect of Soundscape on the PrairieMadness Phenomenon,” Historical Archaeology 56, no. 2 (2022): pp. 262–273, https://doi.org/10.1007/s41636-022-00335-6. 22 Alex D. Velez, ibid. 23 E. V. Smalley, “The Isolation of Life on Prairie Farms,” The Atlantic (Atlantic Media Company, April 21, 2017), https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/ archive/1893/09/the-isolation-of-life-on-prairie-farms/523959/. 24 Please note the following examples of prairie madness in non-fiction: Adela Orpen’s account in Memories of the Old Emigrant Days in Kansas, 1862-1865, and Mollie: The Journal of Mollie Dorsey Sanford in Nebraska and Colorado Territories. Descriptions of prairie madness in historical record are provided by Daniel J. Boorstin in The Americans: The Democratic Experience and Walter Prescott Webb in The Great Plains. The source of the examples is cited accordingly: “Prairie Madness,” Alchetron.com - Free Social Encyclopedia, April 13, 2022, https://alchetron.com/Prairie-madness. 25 Alex D. Velez, ibid. 26 Carla Joinson, ibid. 27 Philip R. Opondo et al., “Mythical and Supernatural Creatures in Psychiatric Symptomatology: Thokolosi in Southern Africa,” International Journal of Culture and Mental Health 11, no. 3 (2017): pp. 248–254, https://doi.org/10.1080/1 7542863.2017.1362449. 28 Swapnajeet Sahoo et al., “Conundrum of the Critiques Related to Culture Bound Syndromes and the Way Forward,” Journal of Psychosexual Health 3, no. 4 (2021): pp. 361–366, https://doi.org/10.1177/26318318211051265. 29 Swapnajeet Sahoo et al., ibid. 30 Swapnajeet Sahoo et al., ibid. 31 Swapnajeet Sahoo et al., ibid.

Introduction  15 References American Psychiatric Association. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental ­Disorders, Fourth Edition: Primary Care Version. Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Association, 2000. American Psychiatric Association. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders: DSM-5. Washington DC: American Psychiatric Association, 2013. Arieti, Silvano, and Johannes M. Meth. “Rare, Unclassifiable, Collective, and Exotic Psychotic Syndromes.” Essay. In American Handbook of Psychiatry 1, edited by S. Arieti, 1:546–563. New York: Basic Books, Inc., 1959. Devereux, George. “Normal and Abnormal: The Key Problem of Psychiatric Anthropology.” Essay. In Some Uses of Anthropology: Theoretical and Applied, edited by J.B. Casagrande and T. Gladwin, 30–48. Washington, DC: Anthropological Society of Washington, 1956. Faergeman, Poul M. Psychogenic Psychoses: A Description and Follow-up of ­Physchoses Following Psychological Stress. London: Butterworths, 1963. Imai, Hissei, Yusuke Ogawa, Kiyohito Okumiya, and Kozo Matsubayashi. “Amok: A Mirror of Time and People. A Historical Review of Literature.” History of Psychiatry 30, no. 1 (2018): 38–57. https://doi.org/10.1177/0957154x18803499. Joinson, Carla. “Indians, Insanity, and American History Blog.” Indians Insanity and American History Blog, September 11, 2014. https://cantonasylumforinsaneindians.com/history_blog/prairie-madness/. Levine, Ruth E., and Albert C. Gaw. “Culture-Bound Syndromes.” Psychiatric Clinics of North America 18, no. 3 (1995): 523–536. https://doi.org/10.1016/ s0193-953x(18)30038-8. Marecek, Jeanne. “Culture-Bound Disorders.” Essay. In Encyclopedia of Critical Psychology, edited by T. Teo, 356–358. New York: Springer, 2014. “Prairie Madness.” Alchetron.com - Free Social Encyclopedia, April 13, 2022. https:// alchetron.com/Prairie-madness. Opondo, Philip R., Keneilwe Molebatsi, Anthony Olashore, James Ayugi, Ari HoFoster, and David Ndetei. “Mythical and Supernatural Creatures in Psychiatric Symptomatology: Thokolosi in Southern Africa.” International Journal of Culture and Mental Health 11, no. 3 (2017): 248–254. https://doi.org/10.1080/17542863 .2017.1362449. Sahoo, Swapnajeet, Bhavika Rai, Aseem Mehra, Sandeep Grover, Eepsita Mishra, and Shaheena Parveen. “Conundrum of the Critiques Related to Culture Bound Syndromes and the Way Forward.” Journal of Psychosexual Health 3, no. 4 (2021): 361–366. https://doi.org/10.1177/26318318211051265. Smalley, E. V. “The Isolation of Life on Prairie Farms.” The Atlantic. Atlantic Media Company, April 21, 2017. https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/1893/09/ the-isolation-of-life-on-prairie-farms/523959/. Velez, Alex D. “‘The Wind Cries Mary’: The Effect of Soundscape on the Prairie-­ Madness Phenomenon.” Historical Archaeology 56, no. 2 (2022): 262–273. https:// doi.org/10.1007/s41636-022-00335-6. Ventriglio, Antonio, Oyedeji Ayonrinde, and Dinesh Bhugra. “Relevance of CultureBound Syndromes in the 21st Century.” Psychiatry and Clinical Neurosciences 70, no. 1 (2015). https://doi.org/10.1111/pcn.12359. Wolff, Matt W. “(Too) Little House on the (Verge of) Prairie (‘Madness’).” ­Psychology Today. Sussex Publishers, 2020. https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/ strifes-rich-pageant/202008/too-little-house-the-verge-prairie-madness.

16  Cringuta Irina Pelea Yap, Pow Meng. “Classification of the Culture-Bound Reactive Syndromes.” ­Australian & New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry 1, no. 4 (1967): 172–179. https:// doi.org/10.3109/00048676709159191. Yap, Pow Meng. “The Culture-Bound Reactive Syndromes.” Essay. In Mental. Health Research in Asia and the Pacific, edited by W. Caudill and T. Y. Lin, 33–53. ­Honolulu: East-West Center Press, 1969. Yap, Pow Meng. “Nosological Aspects of the Culture-Bound Syndromes.” Essay. In Comparative Psychiatry: A Theoretical Framework, edited by M. P. Lau and A. B. Stokes, 84–110. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1974.

Part I

East Asia

1 When Repressed Anger Fights Back Hwabyung in Korean Popular Culture Seongha Rhee Introduction Hwabyung (hwapyeng 화병) is a widely cited syndrome in Korea without a well-matched counterpart in other cultures.1 For lack of proper translation, it is sometimes rendered as ‘fire syndrome,’ following its literal meaning consisting of the two Sino-Korean morphemes, i.e., hwa (화, ‘fire’) and byung (병, ‘illness’). Since the two morphemes are also independent words, it is sometimes written with the genitive case marker -s ‘of’ between them, i.e., hwasbyung (홧병), ‘illness of fire’ (see below for more). It is generally regarded as a culture-bound syndrome (once listed in Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 4th ed., 1994) and not listed among the ailments in Western or Asian medicine. Even though it is regarded as a culture-specific ailment in Korea, the syndrome is widely recognized as a common medical condition caused by accumulated, repressed anger, leading to diverse somatic and psychological symptoms, including depression, anxiety, panic, headache, indigestion, nervous breakdown, and even death. Despite the severity of the syndrome, patients and their families generally do not consider the ailment as something they have to receive medical attention for. Instead, they accept it in resignation as a part of their destiny and let their anger and frustration accumulate until it becomes unbearable to the point of suicide or until it becomes uncontainable and develops into incontrollable anger outbursts. Even when they seek assistance from medical professionals, who can find no identifiable causes and say that nothing is wrong, the symptoms are not likely to disappear. Hwabyung was first addressed by researchers in medical science from the late 1960s, mostly from the perspectives of clinical psychology, clinical psychiatry, neuroscience, therapeutics, and Asian medicine.2 It was discussed as a culture-bound syndrome by some researchers by virtue of meeting the criteria of culture-bound syndromes.3 Despite its significance in Korean culture, it has not received due attention in the field of popular culture, and this contribution intends to fill the research gap by looking at the culture-bound syndrome hwabyung from the popular culture perspective and discussing diverse socio-cultural issues involving it. This chapter is organized in the following DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-3

20  Seongha Rhee manner: following this general introduction to hwabyung, the second s­ ection provides the definition and history of hwabyung, literature review, and sources and manifestations of hwabyung; the third section exemplifies hwabyung in literature from the eighteenth century to the middle of the twentieth century in three groups; the fourth section discusses hwabyung as a medical syndrome and its treatment, hwabyung in modern Korea, and its functions; and the final, fifth section summarizes the results and concludes the chapter. Hwabyung Definition and History

The term hwabyung (‘fire illness, fire syndrome’) is based on the East Asian philosophy that the universe is composed of five elements, fire, water, wood, metal, and earth, in which fire represents the sun, red, south, summer, heart, heat, and depression, among others.4 In daily life, however, hwa is not used as an independent word to mean ‘fire’ (in which case, the native Korean bul (pwul, ‘fire’) is used) but rather as a dependent morpheme occurring in compounds, e.g., hwagi (hwaki, ‘firearms’), hwaryek (hwalyek, ‘firepower’), and hwaro (hwalo, ‘stove’). When used as an independent word, it means ‘anger’ and belongs to the common vocabulary. Thus, the compound hwabyung can be translated as ‘fire illness’ or as ‘anger illness.’ It has a number of synonyms, e.g., hwajeung (hwacung, ‘fire syndrome’), wuljeung (wulcung, ‘pent-up depression syndrome’), wulbyung (wulpyeng, ‘pent-up depression illness’), wulhwa (wulhwa, ‘pent-up fire’), wulhwabyung (wulhwapyeng, ‘pent-up fire illness’), gasumari (kasumali, ‘heart ailment’), among others. ‘Fire’ in translation can be replaced with ‘anger,’ and similarly, ‘illness’ can be replaced with ‘syndrome.’ Among the earliest attestations of the term, hwabyung is in the chronicle of King Seonjo (1552–1608) in the Joseon Dynasty Chronicles, in the recording of August 7, 1603. King Seonjo returned from his refuge in the North during the Japanese Hideyoshi’s invasion of Korea (1592–1598). The ministers requested that some of them who faithfully provided service to the King be recognized and honored with a new honorary title and promotion, which the king refused. Upon the second behest, the king angrily scolds the minister in answer to his inappropriate request, while complaining about his mental and physical condition (see below for more).5 Literature Review

A large body of literature is available on hwabyung, most of which written by healthcare professionals.6 An ethnographic essay, one of the earliest references addressing hwabyung, describes diverse folk psychiatric theories of diseases and makes reference to the explosive madness gwangjil (kwangcil광질,

Figure 1.1 Portrait of King Seonjo with a military felt-hat (authenticity contested; drawn c. 1592–1598). Published with the permission of Imjin War ­Cultural Heritage Foundation, Inc.

Hwabyung in Korean Popular Culture  21

22  Seongha Rhee ‘madness illness’) of King Yeonsan as described in the Joseon Dynasty ­Chronicles, in which the disorder was attributed to possession by the late queen, who had been deposed and died a spiteful death.7 The chapter also briefly mentions Prince Sado’s angry outbursts (화증 hwajeung (hwacung), ‘fire syndrome’) described in Hanjunglok (Hancwunglok 한중록, ‘A Memoir of Suppressed Frustration’) and hypothesizes that his killing may have been linked to the ‘restraining’ treatment, suggested in Chinese medical guidebooks (see below for more). One of the early studies addresses hwabyung as experienced by Korean immigrants to the U.S., based on three case studies.8 The author regards hwabyung as a “culturally patterned way for Korean patients suffering from major depression to express their distress through somatic symptoms.”9 However, his stance is indeterminate as to its being a culture-bound illness and says that further investigation is needed to determine the degree of overlap between hwabyung as a culturally constructed illness category specific to Koreans, on the one hand, and major depression as a relatively cultural-free psychiatric diagnostic category, on the other.10 A more recent study states that hwabyung in Korean patients is characterized by pent-up anger and somatic and behavioral symptoms related to the release and suppression of anger, and further notes that these anger syndromes have been identified, with various names and descriptions, in other cultures as well.11 Another study discusses anxiety disorders in Asian populations from psychiatric and psychological perspectives.12 It describes hwabyung as a common syndrome in Korea, which, the patients believe, is the result of negative emotions, particularly anger. The authors state that it may be a presentation of generalized anxiety disorder. More recently, some researchers approach hwabyung from a more interdisciplinary perspective. Some of them combine the perspectives of medicine and the humanities.13 Other researchers analyze literary works or even personal letters to explore how hwabyung affects a person, family, and society.14 Sources and Manifestations of Hwabyung

It is notable that the syndrome is metaphorized as ‘fire’ for its powerful consuming power. Thus, the syndrome is often accompanied by the fear of impending death. Hwabyung patients suffer from either depression or mixture of a large range of physiological and psychological symptoms, but the symptoms constitute a limited set, which means that hwabyung is an identifiable ailment in terms of symptoms.15 Common symptoms cited in literature are indigestion, abdominal discomfort, shortness of breath, asphyxia, palpitations, heart arrest, choking, deadly strangulation, tired eyes, and heat in the head. Most patients also harbor suicidal ideation, though at varying degrees. Also common is the feeling of a lump in the chest that pushes up from the chest to the throat. This somatization causes such a strong tangible sensation that patients often ask the doctors to surgically remove the lump.

Hwabyung in Korean Popular Culture  23 In a notable study of the manifestations of hwabyung, the authors studied 279 hwabyung patients, who responded to a 1- to 5-point scale questionnaire listing 138 items of neuropsychiatric symptoms.16 The result shows that there are 50 symptoms that have an index of 3.0 or higher, and those that have an index of 3.5 or higher include chest stifling/oppression, palpitation, sighing, blurred vision, many dreams, insomnia (early and middle), general weakness, pushing-up in the chest, heat sensation, cold sweat, paresthesia, intolerance to cold, and heaviness of the head.17 Hwabyung in Literature Hwabyung has been among the most frequently used themes in Korean literature, both old and new. Because of the numerosity of such works, we exemplify the manifestations of hwabyung in three time-partitioned classes, i.e., classical literature in the thirteenth century, Hanjunglok (Hancwunglok) written around the turn of the nineteenth century, sinsosel novels written around the turn of the twentieth century, and early modern literature written from around the 1920s. Classical Literature

Hwabyung is often observed in classical Korean literature, even though the term may not have been adopted. For instance, one of the oldest literary works, Samgukyusa (Samkwukyusa삼국유사, ‘The Three Kingdoms Romance’), dated from 1281, carries a story of a man named Jigwi, who loved the queen of the kingdom. His intense feeling became nearly intolerable. Learning that the queen would visit a temple, Jigwi stayed in the temple, waiting to see her in person. He fell asleep, however, at the moment the queen came, and missed the chance to see her. Discovering a bracelet that the queen laid upon him while asleep, his suppressed emotion overwhelmed him. His long-held passion of the unrequited love turned into a ‘fire’ (likely to mean hwabyung) and burnt the pagoda in the temple ground. This story shows that not only negative emotions like anger but also positive feeling like love can cause hwabyung, because tantalizing unfulfilled love leads to frustration. Similarly, many other classical literary works adopt hwabyung as the major theme of the stories of ill-fated female characters. Hanjunglok

Hanjunglok (Hancwunglok 한중록, ‘A Memoir of Suppressed Frustration,’ also entitled Hantyunglok according to the orthography at the time of writing) is a diary of a crown-prince’s wife, Princess Hyegyunggung Hong, written in 1795 (Part 1) and between 1801 and 1805 (Parts 2, 3, and 4). In addition to the original manuscript version, there are a number of editions modified for orthographic and typographical adjustments at later times. It is one of the most widely read Korean works of historical non-fiction.

24  Seongha Rhee

Figure 1.2 A modern portrait of Prince Sado, courtesy of Beom Young Baek

Prince Sado (1735–1762), the ill-fated crown-prince, was continually pressed by his father, King Youngjo (1694-1776), for his complete preparation as an ideal king in the future. His rather slow progress infuriated the king, and the discontented king pressed him even harder and publicly humiliated him, until the prince finally succumbed to hwajeung, a variant name

Hwabyung in Korean Popular Culture  25 of hwabyung. His anger and frustration repressed within him changed him into a man of explosive character and chronic depression. The diary writes, “His fear of the king developed into an illness, and when his hwa (‘anger/ fire’) surged up from within, he could not find proper objects to vent his hwa on, then he vented on the eunuchs and attending court ladies (by mercilessly hitting them)” (Book 2 #130) and “… from June his hwajeung symptoms became worse and he began to kill people…” (Book 2 #180) (translation SR). His hwabyung led to manslaughter of his attendants in multiple episodes of his anger outbursts. When the things became uncontrollable, the king ordered him to commit suicide, and when he did not, he put him in a large wooden rice container in the courtyard, firmly closing it by nailing the lid himself and forbidding anyone to open it.18 Nine days after the confinement, the prince died in the presence of the appalled court members, an incident regarded by many as the most tragic one in Joseon dynasty. A peculiar symptom that the prince exhibited as part of his hwabyung syndrome was uidaejeung (uytaycung의대증, ‘fear of clothes’), a phobia and difficulty of wearing clothes. He killed a number of attendants who were helping him change clothes. This tragic episode shows how a man under constant pressure developed hwabyung and what extreme forms the hwabyung patient’s anger outbursts could take. New Novels (Sinsoseol)

At the turn of the twentieth century, there arose a new literary movement, which led to the emergence of a new literary genre called sinsoseol (sinsosel 신소설, ‘new novel’). Sinsosel bridges the classical novels and early modern novels in the history of Korean literature. Novels in this genre, numbering about 300, were produced at the turn of the twentieth century, but most productively between 1906 and 1913. The styles characteristic of these novels were influenced by Western literary styles, including the use of colloquial language and the ideology of class- and gender-equality. The most vulnerable class of the time was women, who were torn between the traditional Confucian norms demanding obedience and the newly awakened aspiration to be free as an individual, due to the influence of ­Westernization. Thus, most female protagonists in sinsosel novels are described as suffering from hwabyung and meeting untimely demise. Most novels in this genre involve a theme of hwabyung that inflicted the female characters in them. Hyurui Nu (Hyeluy Nwu 혈의 누, ‘Blood Tear’; 1906) by Injik Lee is considered the first and representative work in this genre. Its setting is Sino-Japanese War (1894–1895), and the storyline is about a wartorn family, with its focus on the tragedy of two women, a mother and her daughter. Okryun, the female protagonist, becomes missing at the beginning of the story in the flurry of running away from the war, and her father, who goes out to find her, also becomes missing soon afterward. Her mother is desperately in search of them, of no avail. While looking for them in the dark, she narrowly escapes rape by a stranger, and while home alone, she is surprised by

26  Seongha Rhee a group of Japanese soldiers who break into the house. When the ­protection of familyhood is broken by the war, all that the mother can do is, while waiting for her missing husband and daughter to return, is to look for them in every street and alley, without any clue as to their whereabouts. Her desperate appearance resembles someone who is insane or in fits. While subjected to the extreme frustration and fear, she first shows the symptoms of deep depression, which become even more aggravated to the point of losing reason and falling into delirium. Scared and hopeless, she does not want to live in this world anymore and throws herself in the river. She gets rescued by a boatman who happens to be nearby. The story describes how one’s fear, anger, and frustration gradually escalate and develop into hwabyung, which leads its victim to a suicide attempt. Okryun, on the other hand, turns out to have been shot by a stray bullet on her left leg, but fortunately gets saved by a Japanese medic and is sent to Japan as his adoptive child. But when the Japanese officer dies in the war, his wife abuses Okryun, who eventually leaves her new home. Another representative novel is Eunsegye (Unseykyey 은세계, ‘Silvery World’; 1908) by the same author. It is also a story of a family, victimized by a corrupt local magistrate. An affluent farmer Byungdoo Choi is pressed to give bribery to a greedy and corrupt magistrate, and, upon refusal, is subjected to inhumane torture under a false accusation, which results in his death. Duly distressed, his wife tries to follow her husband, but she cannot, because of a young daughter Oksoon and a soon-to-be-born son. She is torn between two opposing desires of killing herself to follow her husband and continuing the miserable life only to support her children. She “spends all her day and night crying, while the hills are green and water is clean,” (#461) and she is caught by sorrowful thoughts; she is sad when she sees a mountain; she is sad when she sees streams; she eats after wiping tears; she sleeps shedding tears. The liver is melting, the heart is stopping, the intestines are being cut, and her chest is being sliced away by a sharp knife… (#465) (translations SR) Eventually, upon the delivery of her son, she loses reason and becomes insane. Similar to Hyurui Nu, described above, Eunsegye also shows how pent-up anger becomes stronger and stronger until one becomes deranged or even suicidal. One common theme running in sinsosel novels is that when one has anger, the anger, if long pent-up, causes malfunction of the bodily organs; the physical malfunction, if persists, develops into the ailment in the mind; and the mental illness, if not treated, grows until the patient either commits suicide or becomes insane. In that regard, sinsosel is a life story of hwabyung, i.e., how it begins, how it grows, and how it ends. This uniform theme across the novels in the genre describes, in fact, situations not only plausible but also common in the old, dark, times.

Hwabyung in Korean Popular Culture  27 Early Modern Literature

In Korean literary history, early modern literature refers to the literary works from the 1910s to the 1950s, starting from the landmark novel Mujeong (Mwuceng 무정, ‘Heartlessness’) by Kwangsoo Lee (1892–1950). This period is the dark age in Korean history, marked by particularly oppressive and exploitive Japanese colonial control (1910–1945), the rule of an autocratic government after liberation (1948–1960), the Korean War (1950–1953), and extreme post-war poverty, among others. On the other side, this time was characterized by fast industrialization and modernization, and, especially for women, liberation from feudalism. Thus, instead of old-fashioned crudesounding hwabyung, people began to talk about more scientific-sounding shingyung sweyak (sinkyeng soyyak 신경쇠약, ‘nervous breakdown’). Though different in name the two denoted the same syndrome. Thus, in early modern literature, ill-fated females began to be described as suffering from nervous breakdowns, whereby the pale-faced protagonists are helplessly bedridden and slowly dying, or call a lover’s name in delirium as they perish.19 An interesting extension of hwabyung at this time, by virtue of adopting a new name ‘nervous breakdown,’ was that the nervous breakdown began to be viewed as representing artistic sensitivity that is often caused by the social confusion or ethical dilemma of the times, thus a hallmark of a newly enlightened intellectual.20 Therefore, while many protagonists in the novels go through hardship including all manifestations of hwabyung and often die of hwabyung, novelists themselves, who were the intellectuals of the times, also were, or claimed to be, victims of nervous breakdown. Furthermore, since nervous breakdown diminishing one’s nervous functions resembled the consuming characteristics of tuberculosis, many protagonists in the novels were described as tuberculosis patients, e.g., those in Yakhanjaui Seulpeum (Yakhancauy Sulphum 약한자의 슬픔, ‘The Sorrow of the Weak’) by Dongin Kim and Jeolmeuniui Sijeol (Celmuniuy Sicel 젊은이의 시절, ‘The Time of the Youth’) by Dohyang Na, among numerous others, and the novelists themselves, e.g., Taewon Park, Yujung Kim, and other celebrated writers also were, or often claimed to be, patients suffering from the then-fatal illness tuberculosis. Thus, showing, or pretending to have, frustration and anger associated with hwabyung or nervous breakdown was something desirable. This situation is remarkably similar to the state of affairs of Japanese literary tradition.21 In modern literature, tuberculosis lost its appeal since it is no longer fatal and the increased attention to health has made the general public not to favor illnesses of any kind. However, hwabyung, either personal or communal, continues to be a popular theme, a tradition still persisting in the current literary trends. Similar patterns are found in the movies or dramas in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. All these new trends in the history of Korea show that hwabyung remained strong among the Koreans, but its nomenclature, perception, and manifestations have been extended and modified. In that aspect, hwabyung

28  Seongha Rhee is constantly evolving, influencing, or influenced by the social milieu. We will also look at the current status of hwabyung in the following section. Discussion With the foregoing historical description of hwabyung, we will discuss in the following the patients, medical syndrome and treatment, manifestations in the present Korea, and functions of hwabyung. Patients of Hwabyung

Women are thought to be particularly susceptible to fall victim of hwabyung, since this syndrome is directly related to stress. It is not an overstatement that all or most Korean women in the past lived with hwabyung. Since the fabric of the traditional Korean society is Confucianism, in which women were relegated to the secondary status, nearly all women lived in frustration. For instance, the women’s primary guiding principle was samjongjido (samcongcito 삼종지도, ‘the principle of obedience to three persons’), i.e., obeying the father (before marriage), obeying the husband (in marriage), and obeying the son (when widowed).22 Thus, the Korean women in the traditional society lived with han (한), ‘suppressed frustration.’ The gender disparity is fast disappearing in modern Korea, but the vestiges of the traditional value system still persist at certain aspects of life.23 Surprisingly enough, even the (seemingly) most powerful also suffered from hwabyung, e.g., the kings. In one study on Joseon Dynasty Chronicles, the authors report that there occur the terms of ‘fire illness’ 43 times with reference to the conditions of ten kings.24 There are ten other attestations making reference to bunno (pwunno 분노, ‘anger’) and shim (sim 심, ‘with reference to the ailment of heart, mind’), and others, in close connection to ‘fire syndrome.’ The most frequent occurrences are observed in King Sukjong’s chronicle (17 times) and King Kwanghae’s chronicle (11 times). King Sukjong’s time (1674-1720) is regarded as the time of the worst political turbulence and bloodshed with conflicts between the queens and concubines, between the factions of the ministers and even with (alleged) insurgencies. King Kwanghae’s time (1608–1623) was no less troublesome. He killed his half-brother for fear of losing his throne, dethroned his stepmother queen, and was himself dethroned by the insurgents. He is commonly thought to be one of the worst and cruelest kings of the Joseon dynasty. Thus, it comes as no surprise that these two kings suffered ‘fire syndrome.’ The fact that not a few kings suffered this syndrome reveals an interesting aspect of the powerful kings. Unlike common beliefs that kings were powerful and could wield their power to do whatever they wanted to, kings in this Confucian kingdom were subjected to great burdens of proving to be morally flawless (performing noble actions), extraordinarily conversant in

Hwabyung in Korean Popular Culture  29 Confucian scriptures (memorizing substantial parts of them), outstanding in art and literature (composing poems, in particular), all these on top of the complicated responsibilities of ruling a nation. Since the ministers were Confucian scholars, ready to risk their own lives to promote Confucian virtues, they would not allow the kings to wield their power in a way not acceptable in Confucian principles and precepts. Frustrated kings are often said to have shed tears before his ministers, which is ascertained in the records in the chronicles.25 Hwabyung as a Medical Syndrome and its Treatment

As indicated earlier, the psychosomatic symptoms hwabyung are many and varied. Most studies from the perspective of Asian medicine state the difficulty of treating it and stress that it is caused by the disturbed balance in the functions of the liver and the heart, thus suggesting medication to strengthen those organs through herbal medication.26 Studies by ­psychiatrists, ­psychologists, neuroscientists, etc., however, suggest diverse intervention through pharmacotherapy and psychotherapy, among others.27 Since hwabyung is a widespread syndrome, there have been diverse remedies popularly used. Surprisingly, most patients accepted it as their destiny and kept on suppressing anger and frustration, i.e., for them not taking action was a remedy. It was true that they did not have realistic options to speak of other than bearing with it and leaving it to worsen. A more active treatment was psycho-social, closely related to diverse forms of folk art. For instance, most people thought that suppressed anger formed compressed lump in their chest, i.e., eungeori (ungeli 응어리, ‘condensed matter’), which needs to be dissolved, hence the notion puri (phwuli 풀이, ‘disentangling, solving’). Patients were encouraged to vent out through hwa-puri (hwa-phwuli 화풀 이, ‘fire solving’), han-puri (han-phwuli 한풀이, ‘spite solving’), bun-puri (pwun-phwuli 분풀이, ‘indignation solving’), nek-puri (neks-phwuli 넋풀이, ‘spirit solving’), sal-puri (sal-phwuli 살풀이, ‘evil spirit solving, exorcism’), etc. These folk remedies were practiced either at the personal level with close people or at the community or even higher level in the form of performing arts, including gamyunguk (kamyenkuk 가면극, ‘mask dance’), pansori (phansoli 판소리, ‘operetta’), madangnori (matangnoli 마당놀이, ‘play at allaround theater’), etc., where the patients experienced catharsis or abreaction through vicarious satisfaction by identifying themselves with the characters in the artwork. Some of these practices took on religious meaning, and goot (kwut 굿, ‘exorcism’) was among the common remedies, especially when the patients’ conditions progressed to a grave level. In modern society, they seek help from Christian pastors, who would pray for them laying their hands on their head, whereas most people also seek professional treatment from trained counselors and psychotherapists.

30  Seongha Rhee Hwabyung in Modern Korea

Despite the prediction of General Douglas MacArthur, the supreme commander of the Allied forces in the Korean War, “It will take at least 100 years for South Korea to recover from the war,” Koreans’ consorted effort for restoration placed their country among those with highly advanced economy.28 According to 2020 OECD statistics, South Korea’s nominal GNP ranks 9th in the world.29 Despite such successful economy and developed technology, however, hwabyung continues to linger in the country, though in different forms. Hwabyung is among the common themes of modern popular culture, such as movies, e.g., Only Because You Are a Woman (Danji Geudaega Yejaraneun Iyumaneuro, 단지 그대가 여자라는 이유만으로, 1990), I Can Speak (Ai Kaen Seupikeu 아이 캔 스피크, 2017), Kim Ji-young Born in 1982 (82-nyeonsayng Gim Ji Young 82 년생 김지영, 2019, a screenplay of the 2016 novel of the same title), novels (e.g., Sonyeoni Onta 소년이 온다, ‘A boy comes,’ 2014), popular self-help books (e.g., Hwanan Geotto Eokwulhande Byungkkaci Geollindago? 화난 것도 억울한데 병까지 걸린다고? ‘Anger Bothers Me Enough but Does it Make Me Sick, Too?’ 2021; Manbyungui Geunwon Hwabyunggwa Seuteures Tapa만병의 근원 화병과 스트 레스 타파, ‘Hwabyung the Source of All Illnesses and How to Bust Stress,’ 2009; Nanun Wae Jakku Hwaga Nalkka? 나는 왜 자꾸 화가 날까? ‘Why Do I Tend to Get Angry?’ 2017; Hwabyung Yengu화병연구, ‘A Study of Hwabyung,’ 2009; Hwasbyung Haegyeol 홧병 해결, ‘Solving Hwabyung,’ 2007). Even traditional folk songs (e.g., Arirang 아리랑) and poems (e.g., Jindallaekkot 진달래꽃, ‘Azalea’) are poetic renderings of a lover’s broken heart, closely resembling suppressed hwabyung. Similarly, proverbs often served to encourage women to suppress anger, which tended to develop into hwabyung, e.g., Beongeri 3 nyeon, Guimegeori 3 nyeon벙어리 3년, 귀머거리 3년 (three years mute and three years deaf; discouraging a married woman from speaking and listening). The typical hwabyung victims in traditional Korea were women who had to live under the authoritarian, patriarchal society with androcentric Confucian morality. Among the most frequently cited causes of hwabyung were gender discrimination, familial conflict with their mother-in-law, responsibilities of household matters, an unfaithful husband, and, often, unruly children. In the modern world where such burdens became significantly reduced, the social change did not bring about immediate dissolution of problems and disappearance of hwabyung. Instead, it has changed its manifestation patterns from personal to communal levels; i.e., the anger induced by sociopolitical and economic situations became one shared by a large group of people, and the anger outbursts have become a more organized group action. In other words, of particular significance of hwabyung in modern times is that, unlike previous times when hwabyung was regarded as occurring at the individual level, it often functions as a trigger for collective social actions,

Hwabyung in Korean Popular Culture  31 including the candlelight vigil and mass protests that changed the course of history, including the collapse of the government. As is the case with many developing countries, young Koreans, mostly college students, organized protests against the government in the 1970s and 1980s, pressing for human rights. Such protests often involved violence on the part of the students and riot police. A notable change after the 1990s is that such protests were no longer banned, and people came to express their opinions freely in the open space. Many public squares, Gwanghwamun and City Hall area in Seoul, in particular, became popular fora for demonstration. The demonstrations, though rarely violent, are often phenomenal in the size of the gathering; sometimes, over millions of angry people gather to show down their solidarity, and politicians often took advantage of them or even masterminded them behind the scenes. Among the notable demonstrations in recent history are the candlelight gathering protesting against the unfortunate deaths of two middle-school girls run over by a U.S.-armored vehicle in military operation in June 2002. Some of the participants even believed that the accident was intended by the vehicle operators, and the tragic death was politicized by anti-American politicians. With further complications, the demonstration in November and December grew in scale and tens of thousands of protesters participated in it. Politically minded people, amazed and inspired by the size of the gathering, used this group-gathering tactic in the presidential election that took place around the same time, and the presidential candidate who had a similar political ideology and was previously expected to be unsuccessful was elected the president. In 2008, soon after the pro-American president took office, the leftist opponents staged another large-scale protest against importing U.S. beef, known as the ‘mad-cow protest,’ in which the disinformation that U.S. beef is not safe from the mad-cow disease was widely disseminated and believed. Tens of thousands of protesters participated, and the demonstration lasted for many months. The president, losing the momentum for national agenda in the turmoil, had to suffer throughout his entire tenure. Later, it was found out that the risk of the mad-cow disease with U.S.-imported beef was found to be nothing more than a hoax, and the months-long demonstration is often called the manifestation of ‘mass madness.’ The president later faced imprisonment. During the next president’s administration, one of the most tragic accidents occurred in 2014. A ferry boat, the Sewolho (Seywelho, 세월호), carrying 325 students and 14 teachers to Jeju Island for school excursion capsized, and 304 people perished in the accident. The leftist politicians again staged demonstrations protesting the then-president for not properly handling the crisis. The rally led to the resignation and impeachment of the president, who later served a prison term until she received the amnesty in 2021. In modern Korea, demonstrations become increasingly popular as a means of expressing opinions, but more importantly and seriously, of secretly

32  Seongha Rhee manipulating political issues behind the scene, and, accordingly, many are becoming increasing concerned about the negative aspects of this kwangjang jungchi (광장정치, ‘strategy of street politics’). The public is increasingly polarized between leftist and rightist political ideologies. Aside from evaluative judgment, however, all these demonstrations and rallies were possible due to anger, a shared anger incited by the shared problems, be they political, economic, social, or otherwise. It can be said that mass hwabyung found a common vent with an issue, and the participants see that their desired results, often political, can be obtained through such a large-scale action. This is largely due to the fact that many individuals are affected by the nation-wide maladies of modern times, such as unemployment and job instability, those that are commonly recognized as the sources of hwabyung in modern times. In recent years, the fear of the COVID-19 pandemic and the frustration with severely restricted social interaction, often called ‘corona red,’ have been identified as a source of hwabyung.30 Functions of Hwabyung

Hwabyung as a psychosomatic syndrome is far from a desirable one, and indeed, it has claimed numerous people’s happiness and even lives in the history of Korea. However, it also contributed to the formation of new worldviews and even social development in certain areas. As we have seen above, hwabyung patients display a large number of symptoms. The manifestations tend to take two different forms, which, even though they are not only related but also along the same line of development, only differing in the degree of severity, are quite different in their modes of display. On the one hand, while all patients have physical and psychological manifestations, some bear with it, often throughout their lifetime. The pent-up anger is directed to the self, and the condition, though unpleasant, is accepted in resignation. In the history of Korea, people often espoused the fatalism, whereby the life condition was given by the destiny, something they had to bear with. One closely related to the philosophy is sajupalja (sacwuphalca 사주팔자, ‘four pillars eight letters’), consisting of two letters representing one’s time of birth applied to four pillars of year, month, day, and time, thus eight letters altogether, which is believed to determine one’s destiny. Most hwabyung patients in history or in current times attribute their condition to sajupalja, i.e., their destiny. The fact that there was not much to do, especially in pre-modern times, in order to alleviate the problem, reinforced their belief in fatalism. Since not many hwabyung patients ended their own lives, the pre-modern times of Korea can be said to be time where most women struggled with their anger soaring up from the chest to the throat and with suicidal ideation. Their life was like walking on thin ice. On the other hand, some patients go to the extreme and the pent-up anger is directed at others. This is well exemplified by Prince Sado (see above) and a few kings who vented their anger on the weak, often taking others’ lives.

Hwabyung in Korean Popular Culture  33 If not constrained by the legal system or ethics, such other-directed anger outbursts by these powerful patients could bring forth lots of unfortunate consequences. Other-directed outbursts are not always damaging. As discussed above, hwabyung shared by groups of people, typically divided by ideologies like political parties, personal interests like labor unions or interest groups, socio-political interests like environmental activists, etc., serves as the enabling force for collective action. This type of mass action is so popular that even a neologism referring to it has entered the common vocabulary, i.e., gukmin hwabyung (kwukmin hwabyung국민화병, ‘citizens’ hwabyung, national hwabyung’). Naturally, such a phenomenon has caused alarm for social scientists and opinion leaders alike. However, considering that some of such mass actions contributed to the democratization of the nation, some instances of mass hwabyung in modern times may be said to have made positive contribution to the development of the nation. Indeed, in some recent studies, researchers report that the expression of anger can bring forth a number of positive effects, as well as negative ones.31 Summary and Conclusion This chapter addressed the Korean culture-bound syndrome known as ­hwabyung (‘fire syndrome, anger syndrome’), in which anger is metaphorized as fire. The ailment has a long-recorded history even in classical literature with a number of synonymous names. We presented the history of the syndrome, described its manifestations in literary works, reviewed some literature addressing it, and discussed the syndrome from the perspective of popular culture across time. Though commonly regarded as typically associated with the weak, i.e., those who are culturally restrained from releasing anger, hwabyung is also commonly observed in powerful people in history, such as kings, for they were also expected to repress their anger, following the Confucian norms. As referred to as ‘fire,’ the syndrome is often accompanied by the fear of impending death, to the point that no medical reassurance can dispel it. As a medical syndrome, it requires diverse medical intervention, but in historical times, people generally bore it or resorted to psycho-social means, some of which took the form of folk art, such as diverse performing arts, or the form of religious rituals, involving shamans for exorcism or clergy for divine intervention. In modern Korea, hwabyung still remains with strong force and often in different forms, i.e., mass actions. In recent years, the fear of the COVID-19 pandemic and the frustration with severely restricted social interaction have been identified as a source of hwabyung. A close look at mass action as a manifestation of hwabyung in its modern version shows that such actions sometimes have been misled and taken advantage of by political instigators, but sometimes have contributed to the development of the nation, especially in its democratization.

34  Seongha Rhee Acknowledgments This research was supported by the Faculty of Liberal Arts, Mahidol University. Special thanks go to Professor Shaun Manning for proofreading an earlier version of this manuscript and to Professor Cringuta Irina Pelea for suggestions that helped enrich the content. Notes 1 Romanization of Korean words in the text follows the way of popular writing and the one by the Yale Romanization System, most widely used among linguists, is given in the parenthesis at the word’s first occurrence. Romanization of bibliographic data follows the Yale Romanization System only. 2 See, e.g., the two early studies of hwabyung by Bou Yong Rhi, Hwaspyengkwa Hwaphwuli (Seoul: Hyeptong Publishing, 1969) and “The folk psychiatry of Korea (1): Concepts of mental illness among shamanistic society of Korea,” ­Journal of the Korean Neuropsychiatric Association 19 (1970): 35–45. 3 The guidelines are proposed in Charles C. Hughes, “Culture-bound or constructbound? The syndromes and DSM-III”. Ronald C. Simons, and Charles C. Hughes (eds.), The Culture-Bound Syndromes: Folk Illnesses of Psychiatric and Anthropological Interest, 3–24. (Dordrecht: D. Reidel Publishing, 1985); see also Charles C. Hughes, “The culture-bound syndromes and psychiatric diagnosis,” Culture and Psychiatric Diagnosis. A DSM-IV Perspective, 289–305 ­(Washington DC: American Psychiatric Press, 1996). For individual studies, see Sung Kil Min and Jin-Hak Kim, “A study of hwasbyung in Bogildo,” Journal of Korean ­Neuropsychiatric Association 25 no. 3 (1986): 459–466; Jong-Woo Kim, “Understanding hwabyung from the perspective of Oriental medicine,” Proceedings of the Association of Psychology Conference, Seoul, Korea (2008); Jong-Woo Kim, Kyung-Chul Hyun, and Wei-Wan Whang, “A study on the origin of hwabyung,” Journal of Oriental Neuropsychiatry 10 no.1 (1999): 205–216; and Sung Kil Min, “Clinical correlates of hwa-byung and a proposal for a new anger disorder,” Psychiatry Investigations 5 (2008): 125–141. 4 Qifu Ma. Bi-zi Numerology. (Taipei: Qifu Consulting Co., 2008.) 5 The record of the referenced segment of the chronicle is as follows: “How can you make such a shameless request at a time like this? If it wouldn’t make sense in ordinary times, how can it now? It wouldn’t make sense with other kings, how can it with me? It will make the whole nation confused. Furthermore, I have been suffering this illness for a year, with all medication in vain. I have not seen my ministers for a long time to be properly informed. I have not seen my advisors to be properly counseled. My heart is closed tight; all my desires are rampant inside, but I am stuck in this tiny room where a medicine stove is my only companion. What use of a king like this? I lament over my life. Furthermore, I am suffering from hwabyung, and my conditions worsened after I first received your request. My spirit was hurt, throat became tighter, and phlegm congestion became worse. All the attendants in my service know that. Above all things, this repeated request of yours presses me most seriously. Never bring it up again, so I can control myself better and my conditions improve.” (August 7, 1603; King Seonjo’s Chronicle. Trans. SR). 6 Jin-Tae Kim, “Thoughts on hwabyung from the perspective of Oriental medicine,” Journal of Oriental Neuropsychiatry 3 no. 1 (1992): 68–83; Bou Yong Rhi “The folk psychiatry of Korea (1): Concepts of mental illness among shamanistic society of Korea,” Journal of the Korean Neuropsychiatric Association 19 (1970): 35–45; Bou Yong Rhi, “Hwabyung – An overview,” Psychiatric Investigations 1

Hwabyung in Korean Popular Culture  35 no. 1 (2004): 21–24; Young Hoon Hwang, “A study of hwa-byung in Korean society: Narcissistic/masochistic self disorder and Christian conversion,” Ph.D. dissertation (Princeton Theological Seminary, New Jersey, 1996); Sung Kil Min and Jin-Hak Kim, “A study of hwasbyung in Bogildo,” Journal of Korean Neuropsychiatric Association 25 no. 3 (1986): 459–466; Young Sook Park and Sun Ok Chae, “Literatures review in hwabyung research,” The Journal of Korean Community Nursing 12 no. 3 (2001): 706–715; Soon-Young Khim and Cho-Sik Lee, “Exploring the nature of hwa-byung using pragmatics,” Journal of Korean Academy of Nursing 33 no. 1 (2003): 104–112; Yunjung Choi, “The experience of middle-aged women with hwabyung in Korea,” Ph.D. dissertation (Ewha Womans University, Korea, 2003); Yong Chon Park, “Hwabyung: Symptoms and diagnosis,” Psychiatry Investigation 1 no. 1 (2004): 25–28; Jong-Woo Kim, “Understanding hwabyung from the perspective of Oriental medicine,” Proceedings of the Association of Psychology Conference (2008); Sung Kil Min, “Clinical correlates of hwa-byung and a proposal for a new anger disorder,” Psychiatry Investigations 5 (2008): 125–141. Jieun Lee, Amy B. Wachholtz, and KeumHyeong Choi, “A review of the Korean cultural syndrome hwa-byung: Suggestions for theory and intervention,” Journal of Asia Pacific Counseling 4 no. 1 (2014): 49–64, among others. 7 Bou Yong Rhi, “The folk psychiatry of Korea (1): Concepts of mental illness among shamanistic society of Korea,” 35–45. 8 Keh-Ming Lin, “Hwa-byung: A Korean culture-bound syndrome?” American Journal of Psychiatry 140 (1983): 105–107. 9 Ibid., 107. 10 Ibid., 107. 11 Sung Kil Min, “Clinical correlates of hwa-byung and a proposal for a new anger disorder,” Psychiatry Investigations 5 (2008): 125–141. 12 Devon H. Hinton, Lawrence Park, Curtis Hsia, Stefan Hofmann, and Mark H. Pollack, “Anxiety disorder presentations in Asian populations: A review,” CNS Neuroscience & Therapeutics 15 (2009): 295–303. 13 See, for instance, Sungho Park, “A study on mental disorders of women figures in sinsosel (new novel) focusing on hwabyung,” Journal of Korean Culture 49 (2020): 169–199; and Sungho Park and Sungmin Choi, “Hwabyunguy Inmwunhak: Kunhyentayphyen [The Humanities of hwabyung: Early Modern and Modern period]” (Seoul: Mosinunsalamtul Publishing, 2020.) 14 See HeeSoon Moon, “The life of Cho from Yangju, a woman from a collapsed noble household during the turbulent times of the modern era, and hwabyung,” Hankwuk Kocen Yeseng Mwunhak Yenkwu 30 (2015): 5–34; Won-Hee Youm, “The conflicts, hwabyung and healing of the characters in the Korean novels,” Hankwuk Mincok Mwunhwa 76 (2020): 29–56; and Gyunghee Goo, “A study of conflict between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law and Christian approach for this: Focus on mother-in-law who has han or hwabyung,” MA thesis (Westminster Graduate School of Theology, 2003). 15 Shi-Hyung Lee, “A study of hwabyung (anger syndrome),” Journal of Korea General Hospital 1 no. 2 (1977): 63–69. 16 Sung Kil Min, and Kyung Hee Kim, “Symptoms of hwabyung,” Journal of Korean Neuropsychiatric Association 37 no. 6 (1998): 1138–1145. 17 Ibid., 1141. 18 As briefly indicated, Bou Yong Rhi hypothesizes that King Youngjo’s killing Prince Sado may have been linked to the ‘restraining’ treatment, suggested in Chinese medical guidebooks, similar to restraining certain physically uncontrollable patients with a straightjacket in modern times; Bou Yong Rhi, “The folk psychiatry of Korea (1): Concepts of mental illness among shamanistic society of Korea,” 35–45.

36  Seongha Rhee 19 Sungho Park and Sungmin Choi, Hwabyunguy Inmwunhak: Kunhyentayphyen [The Humanities of hwabyung: Early Modern and Modern period], 77. 20 Ibid., 103. 21 William Johnston, The Modern Epidemic: A History of Tuberculosis in Japan. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995), 124–159. 22 Samjongjido (samcongcito 삼종지도, ‘the principle of obedience to three persons’), also known as samjongjideok (samcongcitek 삼종지덕, ‘the virtues of obedience to three persons’), first occurs in one of the Five Scriptures of Confucianism, i.e., Rites (Yegi, Yeyki예기, “The Book of Rites”; 禮記, Liji in Chinese), authored by Confucius (551–479 BCE) and his disciples. Since its completion in the Early Han Dynasty times (202 BCE–8 CE), the complex rituals prescribed in Rites have dominated the Confucian worlds as inviolable guidelines. 23 Kyung Il Kim, a professor of Chinese linguistics, rocked Korean society by attacking the Confucian morality, which promoted vain authority and hypocrisy with his 1991 book Gongjaga jugeya naraga sanda (Kongcaka Cwukeya Nalaka Santa 공자가 죽어야 나라가 산다, “Confucius must die if this nation is to survive”). The book has drawn much attention, both approval and criticism, from the public. 24 Jong-Woo Kim, Jong-Woo, Kyung-Chul Hyun, and Wei-Wan Whang, “A study on the origin of hwabyung,” Journal of Oriental Neuropsychiatry 10 no. 1 (2009): 205–216. 25 A search of nwunmwul (눈물) ‘tear’ on Joseon Dynasty Chronicles, for instance, returns 3,202 hits, many of which relate to the king. 26 Jong-Woo Kim, “Understanding hwabyung from the perspective of Oriental ­medicine.” Proceedings of the Association of Psychology Conference (2008). 27 Sung Kil Min, “Clinical correlates of hwa-byung and a proposal for a new anger disorder,” Psychiatry Investigations 5 (2008): 125–141; Dong-Shik Lee, Hyentayinkwa Noilocey [Modern men and neurosis]. (Seoul: East-West Culture Publishing, 1972); and Jieun Lee, Amy B. Wachholtz, and Keum-Hyeong Choi, “A review of the Korean cultural syndrome hwa-byung: Suggestions for theory and intervention,” Journal of Asia Pacific Counseling 4 no.1 (2014): 49–64. 28 Jung Chul Yang, “A new look at the Korea-U.S. alliance,” (newsletter), (Washington, D.C.: Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), 2021). 29 The Korea Herald, August 10, 2020. 30 Jeong-Su Park, Hyun Kyung Sung, Ho Yeon Go, Seung Hwan Lee, Keon Soon Hwang, and Seon-mi Shin, “Survey of the COVID-19 epidemic effect on mental health of Seoul City elementary and middle school teacher,” Society of Preventive Korean Medicine 26 no. 2 (2020): 39–47. 31 See, e.g., Eunyoung Park and Juil Rie, “Positive and negative effects of anger expression in workplace: Differences between when expressing and receiving anger,” Korean Journal of Industrial and Organizational Psychology 31 no. 3 (2018): 767–794.

References Choi, Yunjung. “The experience of middle-aged women with hwabyung in Korea.” Ph.D. dissertation, Ewha Womans University, Korea, 2003. (in Korean with an English abstract) Goo, Gyunghee. “A study of conflict between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law and Christian approach for this: Focus on mother-in-law who has han or hwabyung.” MA thesis, Westminster Graduate School of Theology, 2003. (in Korean with an English abstract) Hinton, Devon H., Lawrence Park, Curtis Hsia, Stefan Hofmann, and Mark H. ­Pollack. “Anxiety disorder presentations in Asian populations: A review.” CNS Neuroscience & Therapeutics 15: 295–303, 2009.

Hwabyung in Korean Popular Culture  37 Hughes, Charles C. “Culture-bound or construct-bound? The syndromes and DSM-III.” Ronald C. Simons, and Charles C. Hughes (eds.), The Culture-Bound Syndromes: Folk Illnesses of Psychiatric and Anthropological Interest, 3–24. Dordrecht: D. Reidel Publishing, 1985. Hughes, Charles C. “The culture-bound syndromes and psychiatric diagnosis.” Juan E. Mezzich, Arthur Kleinman, Horacio Fabrega Jr., and Delores L. Parron (eds.), Culture and Psychiatric Diagnosis. A DSM-IV Perspective, 289–305. Washington DC: American Psychiatric Press, 1996. Hwang, Young Hoon. “A study of hwa-byung in Korean society: Narcissistic/­ masochistic self disorder and Christian conversion.” Ph.D. dissertation, Princeton Theological Seminary, New Jersey, 1996. Johnston, William. The Modern Epidemic: A History of Tuberculosis in Japan. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995. Khim, Soon-Yong and Cho-Sik Lee. “Exploring the nature of hwa-byung using pragmatics.” Journal of Korean Academy of Nursing 33.1: 104–112, 2003. (in Korean with an English abstract) Kim, Jin-Tae. “Thoughts on hwabyung from the perspective of Oriental medicine.” Journal of Oriental Neuropsychiatry 3.1: 68–83, 1992. (in Korean) Kim, Jong-Woo. “Understanding hwabyung from the perspective of Oriental ­medicine.” Proceedings of the Association of Psychology Conference, Korea Military Academy, Seoul, Korea, 2008. (in Korean) Kim, Jong-Woo, Kyung-Chul Hyun, and Wei-Wan Whang. “A study on the origin of hwabyung.” Journal of Oriental Neuropsychiatry 10.1: 205–216, 1999. (in Korean with an English abstract) Kim, Kyung Il. Kongcaka Cwukeya Nalaka Santa [Confucius must die if this nation is to survive]. Seoul: Bada Publishing, 1991. (in Korean) Lee, Bom Sang. “Is hwa-byung really gahsum-ari, and is it culture-bound?” (Letter) American Journal of Psychiatry 140.9: 1267–1268, 1983. Lee, Dong-Shik. Hyentayinkwa Noilocey [Modern men and neurosis]. Seoul: EastWest Culture Publishing, 1972. (in Korean) Lee, Jieun, Amy B. Wachholtz, and Keum-Hyeong Choi. “A review of the Korean cultural syndrome hwa-byung: Suggestions for theory and intervention.” Journal of Asia Pacific Counseling 4.1: 49–64, 2014. Lee, Shi-Hyung. “A study of hwabyung (anger syndrome).” Journal of Korea General Hospital 1.2: 63–69, 1977. (in Korean with an English abstract) Lin, Keh-Ming. “Hwa-byung: A Korean culture-bound syndrome?” American ­Journal of Psychiatry 140: 105–107, 1983. Ma, Qifu. Bi-zi Numerology. Taipei: Qifu Consulting Co., 2008. (in Chinese) Min, Sung Kil. “A study of the concept of hwasbyung.” Journal of Korean Neuropsychiatric Association 28.4: 604–615, 1989. (in Korean) Min, Sung Kil. “Clinical correlates of hwa-byung and a proposal for a new anger disorder.” Psychiatry Investigations 5: 125–141, 2008. Min, Sung Kil and Jin-Hak Kim. “A study of hwasbyung in Bogildo.” Journal of Korean Neuropsychiatric Association 25.3: 459–466, 1986. (in Korean) Min, Sung Kil and Kyung Hee Kim. “Symptoms of hwabyung.” Journal of Korean Neuropsychiatric Association 37.6: 1138–1145, 1998. (in Korean with an English abstract) Min, Sung Kil and Kyung Hee Kim. “Symptoms of hwabyung.” Journal of Korean Neuropsychiatric Association 37.6: 1138–1145, 1998. (in Korean with an English abstract)

38  Seongha Rhee Min, Sung Kil, Ki Namkung, and Ho-Young Lee. “An epidemiological research of hwabyung.” Journal of Korean Neuropsychiatric Association 29.4: 867–874, 1990. Moon, HeeSoon. “The life of Cho from Yangju, a woman from a collapsed noble household during the turbulent times of the modern era, and hwabyung.” Hankwuk Kocen Yeseng Mwunhak Yenkwu 30: 5–34, 2015. (in Korean with an English abstract) Park, Eunyoung and Juil Rie. “Positive and negative effects of anger expression in workplace: Differences between when expressing and receiving anger.” Korean Journal of Industrial and Organizational Psychology 31.3: 767–794, 2018. Park, Jeong-Su, Hyun Kyung Sung, Ho Yeon Go, Seung Hwan Lee, Keon Soon Hwang, and Seon-mi Shin. “Survey of the COVID-19 epidemic effect on mental health of Seoul City elementary and middle school teacher.” Society of Preventive Korean Medicine 26.2: 39–47, 2020. Park, Sungho. “A study on mental disorders of women figures in sinsosel (new novel) focusing on hwabyung.” Journal of Korean Culture 49: 169–199, 2020. (in Korean with an English abstract) Park, Sungho and Sungmin Choi. Hwabyunguy Inmwunhak: Kunhyentayphyen [The Humanities of hwabyung: Early Modern and Modern period]. Seoul: Mosinunsalamtul Publishing, 2020. (in Korean) Park, Yong Chon. “Hwabyung: Symptoms and diagnosis.” Psychiatry Investigation 1.1: 25–28, 2004. Park, Young Sook and Sun Ok Chae. “Literatures review in hwabyung research.” The Journal of Korean Community Nursing 12.3: 706–715, 2001. (in Korean with an English abstract) Rhi, Bou Yong. Hwaspyengkwa Hwaphwuli. Seoul: Hyeptong Publishing, 1969. Rhi, Bou Yong. “The folk psychiatry of Korea (1): Concepts of mental illness among shamanistic society of Korea.” Journal of the Korean Neuropsychiatric Association 19: 35–45, 1970. (in Korean) Rhi, Bou Yong. “Hwabyung – An overview.” Psychiatric Investigations 1.1: 21–24, 2004. Simons, Ronald C. and Charles C. Hughes. The Culture-Bound Syndromes: Folk Illnesses of Psychiatric and Anthropological Interest. Dortrecht: D. Reidel Publishing, 1985. Yang, Jung Chul. “A new look at the Korea-U.S. alliance. (newsletter).” Washington, D.C.: Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), 2021. Available at csis. org/analysis/new-look-korea-us-alliance. Youm, Won-Hee. “The conflicts, hwabyung and healing of the characters in the Korean novels.” Hankwuk Mincok Mwunhwa 76: 29–56, 2020. (in Korean with an English abstract)

2 Human Encaged Hikikomori and Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture Cringuta Irina Pelea

Introduction How are Japanese cultural syndromes represented in Japanese language media and popular culture? How do popular culture mediums contribute to portraying hikikomori and taijin kyofusho while also conveying successful narratives? Are there any shallow or misleading tropes derived, highlighted, or contested by popular culture? In the attempt to answer the above-stated questions, this chapter will argue that Japanese popular culture-specific genres, such as manga and anime, at the intersection of various literary and cinematic expressions, serve as significant, complex, and multi-layered instruments for giving a voice to the sufferers and their families, while bringing these taboo topics in the attention of the public. The essay will open with a brief theoretical discussion and a short presentation of the most well-known Japanese folk illnesses from the Edo period1 until the postmodern era. In the following two main sections, we will focus on examining how Japanese popular culture mediums can be employed in conjunction with the Japanese language media narratives to depict hikikomori and taijin kyofusho. Our hypothesis is that portraying how the characters experience these cultural syndromes can increase the empathy and awareness level of both the Japanese and international audiences, converging the vast array of popular culture genres into what we will call “agents of healing,” shaping thus social perception and identity. As such, in the nowadaysJapanese society, which has long been marked by concepts such as “taimen” (体面, honor), “giri” (儀理, duty), and “haji” (恥, shame), these productions provide an alternative and safe place for dialogue, reflection, and a metaphoric and subtle critique of Japan’s most stringent contemporary problems that would otherwise be difficult to approach directly. Finally, we will conclude that by challenging traditional cultural conventions and disrupting the (self)-imposed silence of Japan’s modern society concerning such taboo topics, national popular culture becomes an “engine of social and mental progress.”

DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-4

40  Cringuta Irina Pelea Japanese Folk Illnesses: A Brief Presentation Albeit not regulated as standard psychiatric illnesses, kitsunetsuki (狐憑き) and tanukitsuki (狸憑き), in translation, “possession by the spirit of a fox or a badger,” stand apart as forms of “atypical psychosis,”2 and can be considered Japanese-specific “cultural syndromes,” tracing back to the Meiji era.3 Given their roots in a vast number of folktales, legends, and myths depicting the fox and the badger as maleficent, mischievous, and deceptive figures or youkai spirits,4 the constellation of symptoms should be deconstructed within pre-modern Japan’s cultural, religious, and social context. Mimicking the behavior and movements of these animals, the sufferer could be cured only through the immanent, yet accessible, mystique and spiritual power of an enlightened monk or priest who made use of healing, folk medicine such as chanting, prayers, incantations, or other magic formulas.5 Depictions of kitsunetsuki and tanukitsuki in Japanese popular culture can be noticed particularly in historical (taiga) dramas such as Reach Beyond the Blue Sky (青天を衝け)6 or the short animated production Fox Fears (きつね憑き).7 Moving forward to contemporary Japan, the stringent, compelling requirements and challenges of the society lead to the emergence of new cultural syndromes, whereas the most significant and often referred to are hikikomori and taijin kyofusho. Against this backdrop, going beyond policing the stereotypical and negative portrayals, popular culture allows for multiple modes of representation and narratives of these two culture-bound syndromes and serves to create a congruent, vocal, and safe space of empowerment and self and collective healing. Moreover, as we shall demonstrate in the subsequent sections, one of the significant functions of Japanese popular culture is to act metaphorically as an engine of (mind) progress and to counterbalance the increasing social pressure, constrictions, and ceaseless expectations imposed by one’s connection to the sense of reality. Hikikomori in Japan: The Prison of the Soul To a hikikomori, winter is painful because everything feels cold, frozen over, and lonely. To a hikikomori, spring is also painful because everyone is in a good mood and therefore enviable. Summer, of course, is especially painful.8 In 1998, the psychiatrist Tamaki Saito coined the term “hikikomori,” derived from the verb “hikikomoru” (引きこもる, in translation, “to withdraw”), to signify an acute form of social withdrawal, sometimes lasting for years, decades, or even one’s entire life. Whereas much has been debated on the causes of the phenomenon, which are believed to be of social, psychological, and physical nature,9 it is assumed that a distinct role is played by the individual’s inability to respond to the “peer pressure of the group,” also known as “douchouatsuryoku” (同調圧力),10 otherwise rooted in Japan’s inexorable and

Hikikomori and Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture  41 unyielding social order. Furthermore, the total number of estimated sufferers tops more than one million,11 and it is expected to keep growing, given “the competing demands for financial assistance,”12 together with the absence of coherent governmental programs designed to improve in general the population’s mental health and to address this mental issue in particular. In a country where having a mental illness or any other mental healthrelated problems (such as hikikomori or taijin kyofusho) is unequivocally associated with “shame” (恥) and “failure” (失格), affecting not only the sufferer but also one’s entire family,13 popular culture plays a pivotal role in bringing such delicate and critical issues onto the public agenda. Without being forced to discuss while referring to personal experiences, one can comfortably express their opinions regarding a specific fictional character suffering from such problems. In the long term, this mechanism generates awareness and social bonding and nurtures a sense of solidarity and compassion toward the distant other. At the same time, for the content creators, the appeal concerning the inclusion of references to such folk illnesses regards the enhanced degree of drama and depth that it lends to the storyline. As a general observation, hikikomori characters are usually depicted as multi-dimensional embodiments of the modern hero, each inspiring through his journey of fighting or accommodating one’s condition. Furthermore, the courageous and realistic Japanese media representations of this cultural syndrome come to challenge and even contradict the socially and culturally construed expectations and principles according to which such sensitive topics are not to be publicly discussed.14 Likewise, through the raw depiction of the phenomenon, Japanese popular culture mediums confront without compromising or romanticizing lightness the society’s stigma of mental illnesses, together with other sensitive topics such as bullying, depression, isolation, discrimination, solitude, suicide, drug and alcohol addiction, child abandonment, unemployment, and the struggle of single mothers from poor socioeconomic backgrounds. Intertextuality in Japanese Popular Culture: Light Novels, Manga, and Anime

The presence of hikikomori characters in popular novels can be equally interpreted as a device to explore Japan’s veiled social anxieties and to provide a source of comfort and healing through reading. A gripping portrayal of hikikomori in modern Japanese literature, of which much remains still untranslated to this date, can be located in The melody of the rice plant (稲の旋律), by Akane Hinotsume, The solitary castle in the mirror (鏡の古城), by Mizuki Tsujimura, or The last family (最後の家族), by Ryu Murakami. Nevertheless, one cannot analyze the newest popular culture narratives or provide literary examples that include hikikomori characters without mentioning the critically lauded novel Welcome to the N.H.K. (NHKにようこそ!) by Tatsuhiko Takimoto, later adapted into the widely popular manga15 under

42  Cringuta Irina Pelea the pen of renowned manga artist Kenji Oiwa, and the anime series with the same title.16 Unravelling emotional stressors and a highly conflicting reality, the novel focuses on precisely the trauma, the inner struggle, and the attempted healing process of the hikikomori protagonist, Satou Tatsuhiro, a 22-year-old NEET17 dropout. Playing on the linguistic slippage between the author and the protagonist’s names, the portrait, and development of the main character are seemingly inspired by the writer’s personal history and long-time experience as a hikikomori. Frightened by my futureless life, scared by my foolish anxieties, unable to see ahead and aiming nowhere, I continued ceaselessly living my ridiculously idiotic life.18 Isolated in the recluse of his six-mat room,19 Satou’s hallucinations and visual distortions, partly caused by his unspecified over-medication, feed his conspiracy theory, according to which N.H.K. (Nippon Housou Kyoukai, the Japanese Broadcasting Corporation), represents, in fact, a cover for “Nippon Hikikomori Kyoukai,” a malefic organization guilty of “essentially creating hikikomori on a large scale.”20 The world depicted in his room becomes nothing more than a bleak place, from where one cannot even imagine his future, as there is a profound schism between society’s expectations and Tatsuhiro’s lifestyle. Being alone is best. I mean, it is true, isn’t it? In the end, you’ll be absolutely alone; therefore, being alone is natural. If you accept that, nothing bad can happen. That’s why I shut myself away in my six-mat one-room apartment.21 Welcome to the N.H.K. juxtaposes the severity of Tatsuhiro’s illnesses (paranoia, hikikomori, and chronic depression, respectively) with the character’s recurring darkly comical utterances describing his experience from a subjective point of view. Hence, incorporating black humour into what strikes as an illness memoir prevents the protagonist from becoming a tragic figure who will end up being pitied by the public. Assisting his recovery is Misaki Nakahara, a young girl committed to unconditionally helping the hero return to a typical (healthy) way of life and overcome his psychological and mental health issues. Coming from a broken family herself, Misaki struggles to accept the bitter reality of being abandoned by her parents. As the acute feeling of uselessness intertwines with the disappointment caused by acknowledging that her love for the male protagonist remains unrequited, she attempts suicide twice. Whereas Welcome to the N.H.K. at least aims to explore the cathartic, healing attempts of Satou Tatsuhiro, the protagonist of the manga and anime series Watamote (私がモテないのはどう考えてもお前らが悪い!),22 Tomoko Kuroki, seems hopeless in terms of social rehabilitation and communicating

Hikikomori and Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture  43

Figure 2.1 The cover of the first volume of “Welcome to the N.H.K.” Courtesy of manga artist Kenji Oiwa and author Tatsuhiko Takimoto

with boys her age, despite being an expert in otome video games.23 The narrative takes a different turn and provides a sarcastic, unglorified, and heartbreaking portrayal of a hikikomori female character, which is a rare example

44  Cringuta Irina Pelea in this regard. With men accounting for more than 70% of the hikikomori population living in Japan,24 it became the norm in popular culture to frequently associate this condition with a male figure, making thus this storyline unique in terms of gender representation. Furthermore, Tomoko’s severe addiction to video games worsens her already severe depression associated with suicidal thoughts and prolonged periods of self-isolation. All these factors seem to hinder her fervent wish to become popular among her high school colleagues. The T.V. Documentary: The Art of Survival

Vividly portraying the overwhelming power of self-isolation and its consequences on one’s everyday life, the T.V. documentaries aired by the N.H.K. and other broadcasting companies as well prove to be an interesting popular culture genre addressing the overlap between the Japanese culture, with its socio-normative context, and hikikomori as a cultural syndrome. Specifically designed to inform the audience, this medium includes realistic portrayals of hikikomori individuals and provides direct and nonfictional information, usually through the testimonies of the sufferers and their families. Given that it examines specifically the real-life experience of the ones struggling with such condition and their families’ emotional stress, the T.V. documentaries focused on this subject manage to educate their viewership accordingly. Furthermore, these types of T.V. productions manage to tone down the considerable degree of deceptive, inaccurate yet persistent stereotypes lurking in social media and online media, according to which a hikikomori is just a “spoiled,” “self-indulgent” (甘え) and “lazy person” (怠け).25 A relevant example is the popular T.V. documentary Leaving someone behind: The 9060 family (「おいてけぼり」 - ９０６０家族),26 broadcasted by N.T.N. Corporation in 2022. Following a biographical style, the documentary narrates the story of Keiko and her brother, aged 52, respectively 63, as two hikikomori brothers living in the Aichi Prefecture and adjusting to a new life after their father’s death. With a 35-year history as a hikikomori, Keiko admits shyly: “I am afraid of people and society.”27 Her story reveals one of the most stringent and thorny issues associated with the hikikomori adult people of Japan: the “8050 problem,” otherwise known under the variation of the “9060 problem.” By definition, it refers to the situation when parents in their late 80s or 90s financially support from their pensions their single, unemployed, and socially isolated children in their 50s or even 60s,28 hence the numbers’ association. Nevertheless, once the inevitable passing of their parents, the hikikomori adults remain without any emotional and financial assistance, making their life uncertain and even at high risk. It is the case for these two hikikomori brothers. Unlike other similar productions featuring participants with blurred faces and distorted voices to anonymize the identities of the sufferers and their relatives while also protecting their social image and status (体面), this one does not concede

Hikikomori and Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture  45 in this regard. Thus, the unhinged direct visual contact with Keiko’s identity and living surroundings significantly increases the story’s emotional impact. Other worth-to-be-mentioned examples of Japanese T.V. documentaries on the same topic include The reality of the 8050 problem: The 58-year-old hikikomori (58歳ひきこもり～8050 問題の先の現実) available since 2020 on YouTube,29 From the loneliness of one’s room. People living with hikikomori (独りの部屋から｜ひきこもりと共に生きる人々)30 aired in 2022 by CGNTV Japan, or Let’s save the hikikomori! It’s now or never! The heroic struggle of parents and children (ひきこもりを救え！待ったなし！親子の壮絶な闘い),31 since 2005, under the copyright of N.T.V. Nevertheless, the list of examples can continue. Of core significance here and a unique particularity of this medium is that the audience is transported directly into the real lives of the ones experiencing such a state of mind; thereby, it proves to be a raw, unfiltered, and educating experience, significantly contributing to developing one’s empathy towards those experiencing the state of being a hikikomori. Given that most of these documentaries remain untranslated to this date, it is easier to assume they are aimed at the Japanese audience. Nevertheless, English subtitled and dubbed productions such as Dying Out of Sight: Hikikomori in an Aging Japan,32 broadcasted in 2022 by N.H.K., are also available on the international market and social media such as YouTube and Nikoniko, thus appealing to Western (and not only) viewers. Film and T.V. Drama: Pain, Hope, and Other Healing Stories

Including the hikikomori theme and related content within Japan’s film industry provides insightful, evocative, highly emotional, and dramatic productions, enabling the audience to engage with those depicted. Without pretending to provide an exhaustive list, several notable examples recounting dramatic fictional tales of characters experiencing this culture-bound syndrome are Momi’s house (もみの家),33 Left handed (扉のむこう),34 Lying to my mom (鈴木家の嘘),35 or the drama Hikikomori Sensei (引きこもり先生).36 What these films share is the strong message of (attempted) recovery and, in some cases, the healing process while emphasizing the idea that Japan needs a radical shift towards community and family care, together with enhanced visibility of this cultural syndrome, which should be destigmatized and acknowledged as a severe problem. In this regard, the narrative in Momi’s house (2020) relies on the premise of “healing with the help of others.” The movie connects the viewers with the portrait of the ideal caregivers and therapists emphatic and altruistic. This house is a facility managed by Yasutoshi and his wife Megumi, where Ayako Honda, the 16-year-old female protagonist, comes to recover from being a hikikomori while still struggling with chronic depression caused by the longtime bullying (ijime, 虐め) she experienced at school. The cinematic narrative is filled with a sense of undying faith, the hope of recovery, and optimism

46  Cringuta Irina Pelea in Ayako’s healing, both in mind and in soul, portraying her ­journey as ­ultimately rewarding. The destructive element of the family unit in Left handed (2010) is the shame of having a hikikomori son. The teenager Hiroshi has been a hikikomori for two years, and his parents are committed to hiding their son’s condition from everyone to protect the family’s social image and correspond to the exceedingly high social expectations. The film is construed around “the anti-shame discourse,” where the shame (we will translate it here as “恥”) of being a hikikomori or having one in the family should be interpreted according to the Japanese socio-cultural system, norms, and values. Therefore, the narrative stands out as a silent cry for a change in attitudes and beliefs; otherwise, one would lose it all. Lying to Mom (2018) illustrates hikikomori and severe depression as contributing aspects to a character’s suicide. After the sudden death of longtime hikikomori Koichi, the grieving Suzuki family is faced with the ethical dilemma of keeping or revealing the truth of his suicide from the mother, Yuko, who suffers from memory loss caused by the initial shock of discovering her son’s lifeless body. Instead, her daughter, Fumi, fabricates a comforting and innocent lie that Koichi has recovered from being a hikikomori and is now working in Argentina. The tangled web of lies surrounding the so-called recovery and fairytale life of Koichi in Argentina provides, on the one hand, an authentic, rich, and nuanced portrayal of Japan’s general social perception regarding lingering taboo topics such as mental illnesses, hikikomori phenomenon, or suicide. On the other hand, it deepens the melodramatic tension between the characters struggling to overcome their grief and strengthen the family bonds. I heard about your brother. He is a hikikomori, isn’t he? With the hikikomori, the fault lies with them. And the parents, ultimately. (…) What saves people, in the end, is love. That’s all. Some people can’t be saved.37 On a different note is the healing and recovery journey of a hikikomori survivor, the staple theme of the popular T.V. drama Hikikomori Sensei (2021), which transmits a feeling of optimism in the future and faith that healing is possible.38 Japan’s long-lasting cult-like admiration for the teacher figure provides one of the most consistent reasons for explaining the career choice of the central character, whose story connects the post-hikikomori healing narrative to the rigid cultural code of Japan nowadays. As a hikikomori survivor with an 11-year experience of self-isolation, Uwashima Yohei returns to society and reluctantly joins as a part-time teacher at the very same school he graduated. Albeit he managed to escape the solitude of his room three years ago, he still faces consistent communication problems and avoids direct eye gaze when interacting with the clients at his yakitori restaurant. Nevertheless, Yohei’s complete mind and soul recovery come with the support of the

Hikikomori and Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture  47 problem students he is guiding. Reconnecting the character’s development and the “post-hikikomori life” motive with stories of his truant and dropout students and their hardships makes this five-episode life drama the ideal example of a narrative of mental triumph and quintessence of “collective healing.” Whereas social issues such as “child abuse,” “child sex offending,” “bullying,” “domestic violence,” or “abandonment” might be considered of global relevance, this production tackles and questions the problems within the specific socio-cultural setting of Japan nowadays. Moreover, as a common trait, all these cinematographic productions provide a welcoming change from the Japanese social media flow, which tends to perpetuate the toxic and stereotypical perception of the hikikomori person as “lazy” or “overindulgent.” Therefore, their merit lies primarily in refusing to dismiss the victims and their families as marginal members of society while pledging their reintegration, acceptance, and unconditional assistance. Video Games: Interweaving Mental Health Narratives with Cultural Heritage

Unlike other popular culture genres where the language barrier can hinder the access of the non-Japanese public, this genre seems to overcome this communication problem, seemingly more accessible to any potential consumer with low or no Japanese language skills. Depictions of hikikomori can be encountered in at least two video games. In 2018, Nito Souji, an independent Japanese indie gamer, had the original idea of a video game exploring the hikikomori experience: The protagonist of Pull Stay39 is a hikikomori young man named Susumu, trying to protect his room from external aggressions and reinforcing vigilance against enemies. Furthermore, as the video designer himself admits,40 his personal life experience as a ten-year hikikomori has been the primary source of inspiration for the concept of this video game. The anime posters hanging on the room’s walls to protect and the cherry blossom petals (sakura, 桜) spread on the floor become intractable cultural signifiers of Japanese popular and traditional culture. Furthermore, Susumu’s room becomes a digital, metaphoric, and visual expression of the cultural dichotomy “uchi – soto” ( 内·外), where “uchi” is known to be representing the interior, the house, and the inside, and refers to “family and close kin,” while “soto” stands for the outside, the public, indicating a certain degree of “hostility and disorderly behavior” targeting the outsider.41 Another aspect worth mentioning is that Japan’s cultural and historical heritage becomes background material for the storyline. As such, the visual imagery of the original game depicts the tatamis, the traditional stove, and the shoji as items associated with the architecture of the fighting scenes. In addition, unmatched are various other figures, such as the musha warriors, who join their forces in the fight, and modern urban characters, like the salaryman, the sushi cook, and the karate expert, all becoming part of the action as well.

Figure 2.2 The official banner of “Pull Stay” video game. Front angle: the hikikomori protagonist. Courtesy of the producer Nito Souji

48  Cringuta Irina Pelea

Hikikomori and Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture  49 The following relevant example of a hikikomori character imagined as the protagonist in a video game is Omori, a production inspired by the director’s webcomic series under the same title.42 In this much acclaimed role-playing video game with a solid psychological horror component, the player interacts with Sunny, a hikikomori boy, and Omori, which is imagined as its alter ego. It is easy to assume that the alter ego’s name represents the shortened form of “hikik-Omori.” Furthermore, the cultural syndrome affecting the leading figure of the video game is tackled in association with other psychological and emotional aspects such as depression, trauma, and anxiety. Taijin Kyofusho in Japan: The Cultural and (Self)-Destructive Power of “Shame” I’m not the one rejecting them all. An existence rejected by all things. That is me. This world continues to reject me, so why am I still alive?43 Situated in the same spectrum of agoraphobia as hikikomori, taijin kyofusho (対人恐怖症) is defined as an “extreme fear of cultivating interpersonal relations,”44 and can be extrapolated to some extent to a form of “social phobia anxiety,” otherwise profoundly rooted in Japan’s secular culture of shame, “haji” (恥). Documented for the first time in 1909 by the psychiatrist Morita Masatake,45 taijin kyofusho stands apart as a unique Japanese cultural syndrome. As such, “taijin” (対人) can be translated as “the other people,” whereas “kyofusho” (恐怖症) stands for “extreme fear.” Compared to the typical social anxiety disorder as specified in DSM-5, this folk illness bears subtle yet significant differences.46 In the case of taijin kyofusho, the sufferer is frightened by the possibility of offending the conversation partner and the shame and feelings of unbearable guilt one would feel after, whereas someone with S.A.D. would more likely fear causing embarrassment to one’s reputation and social status.47 Consequently, one’s extreme anxiety and fear of being negatively judged or criticized for displaying a specific offensive behaviour in public can lead to self-isolation and purposely avoiding social situations requiring direct eye contact with others.48 Other known subtypes worth to be mentioned and related to this culture-bound syndrome are shisen kyofusho (視線恐 怖症, the anxiety of being looked at), sekimen kyofusho (赤面恐怖症, the fear of blushing in front of the others), and jikoshuu kyofusho (自己臭恐 怖症, the anxiety of having an unpleasant body odour in the company of someone else). Given the shared cultural and social background, encountering symptoms of both hikikomori and taijin kyofusho in the same person is not a rare occurrence.49 For this reason, within the collective cultural and social imagination, there is undeniably a degree of intersection even between popular cultural depictions of this folk illness and hikikomori.

50  Cringuta Irina Pelea Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture: An Overall Perspective Parasite in Love: “The Smell of Hopelessness”

In the first part of this subsection, we will examine the representation of taijin kyofusho in Japanese cinema. In this regard, Parasite(s) in Love (恋する寄生虫, 2021) stands apart as one particularly relevant example illustrating the intertextuality of Japan’s popular culture, which accurately depicts this folk illness in a wide variety of genres and mediums. With a storyline intimately connected to the highly successful light novel under the same title, written by Sugaru Miaki,50 the narrative plot was later adapted into a film script51 and a manga version. In this peculiar romantic story played by the two main characters construed as “atypical” and sharing “the same smell of hopelessness,” a mental illness such as mysophobia and a culture-bound syndrome like taijin kyofusho (under its variation of shisen kyofusho) connect Kengo Kosaka and Hijiri Sanagi. Whereas Kengo’s extreme apprehension of germs reveals an emotional chain of hidden traumas of abandonment, parents’ suicide, and gloominess, Hijiri’s severe anxiety of being looked at made her adopt the anti-social behaviour of purposely avoiding any form of human interaction, and consequently, she dropped out of school. The moment of confession bonds the two youngsters. I’m scared of making eye contact with people. (…)It makes me feel like I’m being threatened. Like they’re inside me, invading my privacy. I cover my ears because I’m afraid of making eye contact. I know it doesn’t make sense. No. I get it. I’m pretty much the same. The world continues to reject me, so why am I still alive?52 As such, a specific parasite causes the characters’ condition and it is located in their brain. This narrative approach asserts the dissociation between their personalities, illnesses, and impairments, which are otherwise constructed and perceived as external and harmful elements, removable only through brain surgery. Albeit there is nothing inherently wrong with this tense narrative direction, it tends to reify rather than mitigate or even combat the deeply embedded and dangerous stereotypes of mental-related illnesses, where the characters’ ultimate happiness is symbolically represented by achieving ablebodiedness and mindedness. In this regard, this particular production seems, indeed, to reinforce such stereotypes, unlike most examples of genres and products analyzed in the above sections. In this case, the spectrum of mental health problems comes to represent something malicious that one ultimately needs to overcome in order to reach happiness. The naturalized and pervasive ideology epitomizing the healthy couple’s happy life as envisioned in the final scene pities and even isolates

Hikikomori and Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture  51 the concept of (mental) illness, asserting and perpetuating the idea that ­nonconforming to the expected social and cultural ideal leads to misery and solitude. One can only compare how, in the movie’s first scenes, both characters live in isolation, depressed, primarily because of their mental problems. After being surgically cured, they seem to have received the antidote of happiness. From this perspective, we can conclude that the film’s narrative trajectory only reinforces and solidifies Japan’s outdated and problematic representations of “mental health” and the culturally shaped necessity to conform to a specific set of social expectations. The motive of the parasite prompts the narrative’s central aesthetic: the staring, grotesque eyes of the others, in Hijiri’s vision, or the germs crawling everywhere and the extensive skin damage and scarring caused by the overuse of disinfectant from Kengo’s perspective. However, another aspect worth mentioning is that integrating specific mental illnesses and other health-related issues in the characters’ portrayal should be considered within the socio-cultural normative context of the nowadays-Japanese structural reality that ceaselessly circumscribes one’s way of life. While publicly admitting to having a mental illness makes one prone to social stigma and discrimination in Japan (but not only), the mental healthrelated problems experienced by both the protagonists can be described as being “safe” for one’s reputation and “socially acceptable” to some extent, keeping them “likable” in the perception of the Japanese public. For instance, Kengo’s intense apprehension of germs matches Japan’s high standards of cleanliness and consistent hygiene practices.53 Likewise, we presume that a large segment of the Japanese audience shares Hijiri’s cultural shame and anxious feelings about being under the visual scrutiny of other people. Moreover, portraying both characters as having at least one parent committing suicide and growing up in an affectionless and harsh environment appeals to the public’s empathy, who cannot be left unimpressed by the teenagers’ life dramas. Additionally, the narrative of the orphan child resuscitates, to some extent, Japan’s post-war trauma, a sense of collective responsibility towards the two protagonists, and social duty, which has remained unfulfilled while awakening a certain emotional unease associated with the condition of a parentless child. This constellation of biographic traits generally establishes an imaginative and emotional engagement between the audience and the main characters. On a side note, the film’s frequent references to the phenomenon of youth suicide in Japan can raise awareness regarding the alarmingly high rates of Japanese teenagers who end their lives while revealing the lack of public and governmental support and interest in the nation’s mental health as a whole and chronic depression, as a particular unaddressed problem. I don’t really care if I die, so I thought you might be the same. (states Hijiri nonchalantly, and Kengo replies:) I’ve promised myself not to commit suicide. (The dialogue continues:)

52  Cringuta Irina Pelea Don’t you want revenge? On the people and society who ignored and ­tormented you? That’s only for people who have regrets in this world. I’ve given up on everything. Nonetheless, without dwelling on the pessimistic notes of their past or fully embracing and accepting one’s condition, the characters’ progressive healing and the evolution of their relationship unequivocally emphasize the optimism one can glean from the darkness. Kuma Miko: Girl Meets Bear

The second focus of this subsection is to analyze the intertwinement of this cultural syndrome into Japan’s leading manga and anime industries, which enjoy overwhelming popularity on a global scale. Countless anime and manga productions provide a haunting glimpse into the life experience of someone experiencing the symptoms of taijin kyofusho. Several significant examples are Kuma Miko: Girl meets Bear (くまみこ, 2016), Hurt by your love (君 に愛されて痛かった, 2017), Handa-kun (はんだくん, 2016), Heartful days (まほらば, 2005), Fight or love (戦×恋, 2019), and the animated movie The silent voice (聲の形, 2016). Nevertheless, among these, the manga Kuma Miko: Girl meets Bear, authored by Masume Yoshimoto, in 17 ongoing volumes, stands out as an excellent visual allegory for coming-of-age, unravelling the story of Machi Amayadori, a 14-year-old shrine maiden, “miko” (巫女), living in the Kumade village, and Natsu Kumai, her talking, wise, and protective bear friend. As the main character confesses,54 she struggles to communicate with other people and frequently behaves like a hikikomori. In a light and humoristic tone, the manga provides an authentic and sensitive narrative exploring the unconditional friendship between Machi and Natsu, together with the tribulations she undergoes to fulfill her ultimate dream: to attend high school in the big city. Witnessing the seemingly easy tasks assigned by Natsu to his human friend, to prepare her for city life allows the reader to understand the inner construed reality of someone experiencing such cultural syndromes. Furthermore, it emphasizes, albeit not directly, the striking disparities and perception differences that arise when compared to the emotional state of mind of a typical person involved in the same activities. Going beyond simply depicting the heroine’s struggle with real, relatable communication and human interaction issues, the manga artist also interweaves Japan’s contemporary concerns into the narrative line: prolonged selfisolation, alienation, (child) bullying, or, on a broader level, the depopulation of the rural areas with its significant demographic and social consequences. Noticeable from the first volume is how Machi’s resilience and resourcefulness in challenging herself to improve her communication and adaptation skills, reinforced by Natsu’s parental care and unyielding support, perpetuate

Hikikomori and Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture  53

Figure 2.3 The cover of the first manga volume: “Kuma Miko.” Courtesy of Masume Yoshimoto

the Japanese cultural value of teamwork, and that relentless hard work, supported by a consistent team effort, will always prove its worth. Most of the difficulties were encountered when she has to communicate with someone

Figure 2.4  The inseparable bonding between Machi and Kuma (the bear). Courtesy of Masume Yoshimoto

54  Cringuta Irina Pelea

Hikikomori and Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture  55 else, but her long-time bear friend adds complexity to her character and plays the role of a rhetorical device, converging thus into a mechanism for both inner and social progress. Meanwhile, the fantastical, anthropomorphic condition of Natsu, the bear, becomes one of the key narrative elements reinforcing Machi’s progress. On a side note, the vibrant slice-of-life manga series includes frequent references to Japan’s intangible cultural heritage, simultaneously promoting national historical and spiritual literacy. Conclusion Whereas most of the research conducted on Japan’s culture-bound syndromes has adopted a relatively reductionistic approach, that of transcultural psychiatry, this chapter analyzed this subject from the perspective of cultural studies, more specifically, popular culture, which proves to be a fruitful framework when dealing with such narratives. Hence, the aim of this chapter was twofold yet intertwined: first, to open up an innovative, theoretical, and critical direction for (Japanese) popular culture studies at the intersection with medical anthropology, and second, to bring a contribution to the nowadays-societal debate regarding mental health, media, and unexplored cultural texts, with a specific geographical focus on Japan. The large majority of products and genres we tackled confirmed our initial hypothesis, according to which Japanese popular culture can act as an agent of healing. Moreover, by adopting an inclusive discourse, it holds the performative role of an engine of social and mental progress. Due to space constraints, the present essay considered a close and indepth analysis of only the most frequently cited and represented cultural syndromes specific to nowadays-Japanese society and culture: hikikomori and taijin kyofusho. An aspect worth mentioning is the wide variety of Japan’s folk illnesses and, consequently, their representation in popular culture. For instance, a future research direction might explore the retired husband stress syndrome (主人在宅ストレス症候群), an unspecified form of acute depression, which affects the mental health of most Japanese wives in the first retirement year of their husbands.55 On a similar note, recorded for the first time in the 80s by Dr. Hiroaki Ōta, the Paris syndrome (パリ症候群) manifests as a severe type of cultural shock and devastating disappointment experienced exclusively by first-time Japanese tourists (primarily women in their 20s and 30s) visiting Paris,56 and it remains largely under-explored. The root cause is assumed to lie in the overwhelming number of positive representations of Paris in Japanese popular culture and media. This topic, in particular, opens the door for a new research endeavour, making us question to what extent popular culture is to blame for the emergence, spreading, and evolution of such folk illnesses. Several relevant productions to be mentioned are the novel Paris syndrome: a recipe of murder and love (パリ症候群·愛と殺人のレシピ, 2014) by Ruriko Kishida and the movie I Have To Buy New Shoes (新しい靴を買わなくちゃ, 2012),

56  Cringuta Irina Pelea where both the protagonists exhibit strikingly similar symptoms to the Paris syndrome. Nevertheless, other questions left unanswered provide avenues for future investigation. For instance, are there any significant differences between the cultural image of folk illnesses constructed by popular culture and the one provided by up-to-date psychiatric research? How do Japanese and English language narratives differ in representing hikikomori and taijin kyofusho? In conclusion, this chapter does not pretend to cover the entire spectrum of Japanese cultural syndromes and their representations in popular culture but only to provide a starting point for future academic discussion and analysis of this subject from the perspective of popular culture and cultural studies. Acknowledgment I am utmost grateful to Kenji Oiwa, Nito Souji, Tatsuhiko Takimoto, and Masume Yoshimoto, for graciously granting me permission to use quotes, images, and posters of their extraordinary works for this chapter. Notes 1 Japan’s Edo period (江戸時代), also known as Tokugawa period (徳川時代) lasted from 1603 to 1867. 2 Shigeyuki Eguchi, “滋賀県湖東1山村における狐憑きの生成と変容--憑依表現の 社会-宗教的,臨床的文脈 (Fox Possession (Kitsunetsuki): Its Molded Process and Variation in a Mountain Village in the Eastern Area of Lake Biwa),” Bulletin of the National Museum of Ethnology 12, no. 4 (1987). 3 Takashi Saitō, “明治期日本における精神医学と狸憑き (Psychiatry and Animal Possession in the Meiji Era),” Academia. Humanities and Natural Sciences, Nanzan University 21 (2021): pp. 315–322, https://researchmap.jp/tacacisaiteau/published_papers/32526385/attachment_file.pdf. 4 Michael Dylan Foster and Kijin Shinonome, The Book of Yokai: Mysterious Creatures of Japanese Folklore (Oakland: University of California Press, 2015). 5 Kennosuke Negishi, “民間信仰の医療民俗学的考察 (Popular Beliefs and Folk Medicine),” College of Medical Care and Technology, Gunma University 7 (1986): pp. 9–25, https://gair.media.gunma-u.ac.jp/dspace/bitstream/10087/1920/1/ KJ00004436023.pdf. 6 “Telling Asahi,” Telling Asahi, accessed August 20, 2022, https://telling.asahi. com/article/14283350. 7 “きつね憑き Fox Fears (Kitsunetsuki Fox Fears),” 東京アニメアワードフェスティバ ル2016 (Tokyo Anime Award Festival 2016), accessed July 23, 2022, https://animefestival.jp/screen/list/2016sc31/. 8 Tatsuhiko Takimoto, N.H.K.にようこそ! (Welcome to the N.H.K.). (Los Angeles, CA: Tokyopop, 2007). 9 Riko Ushida, pp. 8–14, accessed September 23, 2022, https://www.f.waseda.jp/k_ okabe/semi-theses/1501riko_ushida.pdf. 10 Katsuhiro Honda, “なぜ日本でこれだけ引きこもりが増えたのか 『子育てが終 わらない』小島貴子准教授インタビュー (Why Has the Number of Hikikomori Increased so Much in Japan? ‘Parenting Never Ends’ Interview with Associate Professor Takako Kojima),” Wedge, June 14, 2019, https://wedge.ismedia.jp/ articles/-/16499?page=2.

Hikikomori and Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture  57 11 “ひきこもり100万人超：日本では家族単位で社会から孤立する (More than 1 Million Hikikomori: In Japan, the Family Is Isolated from Society),” Nippon.com (The Foundation Nippon.com, December 19, 2019), https://www.nippon.com/ja/ japan-topics/c07401/. 12 Ebr Desapriya and Iwase Nobutada, “Stigma of Mental Illness in Japan,” The Lancet 359, no. 9320 (May 25, 2002): p. 1866, https://doi.org/10.1016/ s0140-6736(02)08698-1. 13 Mao-Sheng Ran et al., “Stigma of Mental Illness and Cultural Factors in Pacific Rim Region: A Systematic Review,” BMC Psychiatry 21, no. 1 (July 2021), https://doi.org/10.1186/s12888-020-02991-5. 14 Ebr Desapriya and Iwase Nobutada, “Stigma of Mental Illness in Japan,” The Lancet 359, no. 9320 (May 25, 2002): p. 1866, https://doi.org/10.1016/ s0140-6736(02)08698-1. 15 Manga (漫画) are Japanese graphic novels/comic books. 16 Anime (アニメ) is usually defined as Japanese (modern) animation. 17 NEET is an abbreviation standing for young people who are “not in employment, education or training.” Yukiko Uchida and Vinai Norasakkunkit, “The NEET and Hikikomori Spectrum: Assessing the Risks and Consequences of Becoming Culturally Marginalized,” Frontiers in Psychology 6 (2015), https:// doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2015.01117. 18 Tatsuhiko Takimoto, N.H.K.にようこそ! (Welcome to the N.H.K.). (Los Angeles, CA: Tokyopop, 2007). 19 The estimated surface of the room is 9.72 mp. 20 Scott Wilson, “Braindance of the Hikikomori: towards a Return to Speculative Psychoanalysis,” Paragraph 33, no. 3 (2010): pp. 392–409, https://doi. org/10.3366/para.2010.0206. 21 Tatsuhiko Takimoto, N.H.K. にようこそ! (Welcome to the N.H.K). (Los Angeles, CA: Tokyopop, 2007). 22 The full title is “No Matter How I Look at It, It’s You Guys’ Fault I’m Not Popular!” 23 Japanese story-based video games, which target women as a market segment. Usually, the main objective of such games is to develop a romantic relationship between the female player and a virtual male character. 24 “ひきこもり等に関する実態調査結果 (Results of the Fact-Finding Survey Targeting Hikikomori)” (Ehime Prefecture, 2018), https://www.pref.ehime.jp/h25500/ seisin/documents/chousakekka0621.pdf, p. 2. 25 Motohiro Sakai, “ひきこもりの定義や本人をエンパワメントする家族支援の概要 (The Definition of Hikikomori. Overview of Family Assistance to Empower the Suferrer),” 2022, https://www.mhlw.go.jp/content/12602000/000948283.pdf, p. 3. 26 “「おいてけぼり」―９０６０家族―　前編 (Trailer: Leaving Someone behind. The 9060 Problem),” 日テレNEWS (Nippon Television Network Corporation), June 1, 2022, https://news.ntv.co.jp/category/society/994504. 27 “笑顔のレシピ (Recipes for a Smiling Face),” 笑顔のレシピ (Recipes for a Smiling Face) (blog), May 2022, https://blog.goo.ne.jp/egaonoresipi/e/ cfe4a93ffe018401a7d7725d386eb81e. 28 Kyoko Yoshioka-Maeda, “The ‘8050 Issue’ of Social Withdrawal and Poverty in Japan’s Super-Aged Society,” Journal of Advanced Nursing, April 10, 2020, https://doi.org/10.1111/jan.14372. 29 58 歳ひきこもり①～ 8050 問題の先の現実 (The 58-Year Old Hikikomori. Part 1. The Reality of the 8050 Problem), Youtube, 2020, https://youtu.be/Ldn7qTeJ9ys. 30 ドキュメンタリー 独りの部屋から｜ひきこもりと共に生きる人々｜(T.V. Documentary from the Solitude of One’s Room. Hikikomori and the People Who Are Living with Them), YouTube (CGNTV Japan, 2022), https://youtu.be/m2GgS6t4pLw.

58  Cringuta Irina Pelea 31 ひきこもりを救え！待ったなし！親子の壮絶な闘い (Let’s Save the Hikikomori People! It’s Now or Never! The Heroic Struggle of Parents and Children), (YouTube, 2005), https://youtu.be/EnaW4Mt-mGU.　 32 Dying Out of Sight: Hikikomori in an Aging Japan - NHK Documentary, N.H.K. (YouTube, 2022), https://youtu.be/Fes15AzSsVk. 33 もみの家 (Momi’s House), Bitters.co.jp, 2020, https://bitters.co.jp/mominoie/. 34 扉のむこう (Left Handed), IMDb (IMDb.com, 2008), https://www.imdb.com/title/ tt1342961/. 35 鈴木家の嘘 (Lying to My Mom), IMDb (IMDb.com, 2018), https://www.imdb. com/title/tt8676424/. 36 ひきこもり先生 (Hikikomori Sensei), NHK.jp (NHK - Nippon Hoso Kyokai (Japan Broadcasting Corporation), 2021), https://www.nhk.jp/p/ts/L29VQMZMK8/. 37 鈴木家の嘘 (Lying to My Mom), IMDb (IMDb.com, 2018), min. 4, https://www. imdb.com/title/tt8676424/. 38 A similar approach, yet on a lighter, funny note, is taken by the T.V. drama 警視 庁ひきこもり係 (Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department Hikikomori), directed by Naomi Kinoshita and aired by TV Asahi in 2021. 39 Nito Souji, Twitter official account, September 2016, https://twitter.com/eternalstew. 40 Ibid. 41 Takie Sugiyama Lebra, The Japanese Self in Cultural Logic (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2004). 42 “Omori,” OMORI, accessed October 25, 2022, https://www.omori-game.com. 43 Miaki Sugaru, 恋する寄生虫 (Parasite in Love) (Tokyo, Japan: Kadokawa, 2016). 44 Scott Wilson, “Braindance of the Hikikomori: towards a Return to Speculative Psychoanalysis,” Paragraph 33, no. 3 (2010): pp. 392–409, https://doi. org/10.3366/para.2010.0206. 45 Kenji Kitanishi et al., “東アジアにおける対人恐怖の発見とその治療 (Discovery and Treatment of Taijin Kyofusho in East Asia),” Psychiatry 40, no. 5 (May 1998): pp. 493–498. 46 Leslie Lim, “Taijin-Kyofu-Sho: A Subtype of Social Anxiety,” Open Jour nal of Psychiatry 03, no. 04 (2013): pp. 393–398, https://doi.org/10.4236/ ojpsych.2013.34042. 47 Satoshi Asakura et al., “Social Anxiety/Taijin-Kyofu Scale (Sats): Development and Psychometric Evaluation of a New Instrument,” Psychopathology 45, no. 2 (2012): pp. 96–101, https://doi.org/10.1159/000329741. 48 Ibid. 49 Takahiro A. Kato et al., “Does the ‘Hikikomori’ Syndrome of Social Withdrawal Exist Outside Japan? A Preliminary International Investigation,” Social Psychiatry and Psychiatric Epidemiology 47, no. 7 (2011): pp. 1061–1075, https://doi. org/10.1007/s00127-011-0411-7. 50 Miaki Sugaru, 恋する寄生虫 (Parasite in Love) (Tokyo, Japan: Kadokawa, 2016). 51 The film is directed by Kensaku Kakimoto. 52 Ibid. 53 Steve John Powell and Angeles Marin Cabello, “What Japan Can Teach Us about Cleanliness,” BBC.com, October 7, 2019, https://www.bbc.com/travel/ article/20191006-what-japan-can-teach-us-about-cleanliness. 54 “くまみこ (Kuma Miko: Girl Meets Bear)” (Tokyo, Japan: Kinema Citrus and EMT Squared, 2016). 55 Takashi Oshio, “What Factors Affect the Evolution of the Wife’s Mental Health after the Husband’s Retirement? Evidence from a Population-Based Nationwide Survey in Japan,” Journal of Epidemiology 31, no. 5 (May 2021): pp. 308–314, https://doi.org/10.2188/jea.je20200071. 56 Karen Nishioka, “A Place to Long For: The Representation of Paris in Hollywood Films,” Journal of Morisita Memorial Research 3 (n.d.), https://bulletin.morisita. or.jp/pdf/vol3/nishioka.pdf.

Hikikomori and Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture  59 References 58歳ひきこもり①～8050 問題の先の現実 (The 58-Year Old Hikikomori. Part 1. The Reality of the 8050 Problem), 2020. https://youtu.be/Ldn7qTeJ9ys. Asakura, Satoshi, Takeshi Inoue, Nobuki Kitagawa, Mifumi Hasegawa, Yutaka Fujii, Yuki Kako, Yasuya Nakato, et al. “Social Anxiety/Taijin-Kyofu Scale (Sats): Development and Psychometric Evaluation of a New Instrument.” Psychopathology 45, no. 2 (2012): 96–101. https://doi.org/10.1159/000329741. Desapriya, Ebr, and Iwase Nobutada. “Stigma of Mental Illness in Japan.” The Lancet 359, no. 9320 (May 25, 2002): 1866. https://doi.org/10.1016/s0140-6736(02)08698-1. ドキュメンタリー 独りの部屋から｜ひきこもりと共に生きる人々｜(T.V. Documentary from the Solitude of One’s Room. Hikikomori and the People Who Are Living with Them). YouTube. CGNTV Japan, 2022. https://youtu.be/m2GgS6t4pLw. Dying Out of Sight: Hikikomori in an Aging Japan - NHK Documentary. N.H.K. YouTube, 2022. https://youtu.be/Fes15AzSsVk. Eguchi, Shigeyuki. “滋賀県湖東1山村における狐憑きの生成と変容--憑依表現の社会宗教的,臨床的文脈 (Fox Possession (Kitsunetsuki): Its Molded Process and Variation in a Mountain Village in the Eastern Area of Lake Biwa).” Bulletin of the National Museum of Ethnology 12, no. 4 (1987): 1113–1179. Foster, Michael Dylan, and Kijin Shinonome. The Book of Yokai: Mysterious Creatures of Japanese Folklore. Oakland: University of California Press, 2015. “ひきこもり100 万人超：日本では家族単位で社会から孤立する (More than 1 M ­ illion Hikikomori: In Japan, the Family Is Isolated from Society).” Nippon.com. The Foundation Nippon.com, December 19, 2019. https://www.nippon.com/ja/ japan-topics/c07401/. ひきこもり先生 (Hikikomori Sensei). NHK.jp. NHK - Nippon Hoso Kyokai (Japan Broadcasting Corporation), 2021. https://www.nhk.jp/p/ts/L29VQMZMK8/. ひきこもりを救え！ 待ったなし！親子の壮絶な闘い (Let’s Save the Hikikomori People! It’s Now or Never! The Heroic Struggle of Parents and Children). YouTube, 2005. https://youtu.be/EnaW4Mt-mGU. Honda, Katsuhiro. “なぜ日本でこれだけ引きこもりが増えたのか 『子育てが終わらない』 小島貴子准教授インタビュー (Why Has the Number of Hikikomori Increased so Much in Japan? ‘Parenting Never Ends’ Interview with Associate Professor Takako Kojima).” Wedge, June 14, 2019. https://wedge.ismedia.jp/articles/-/16499?page=2. Kato, Takahiro A., Masaru Tateno, Naotaka Shinfuku, Daisuke Fujisawa, Alan R. Teo, Norman Sartorius, Tsuyoshi Akiyama, et al. “Does the ‘Hikikomori’ Syndrome of Social Withdrawal Exist Outside Japan? A Preliminary International Investigation.” Social Psychiatry and Psychiatric Epidemiology 47, no. 7 (2011): 1061–1075. https://doi.org/10.1007/s00127-011-0411-7. Kitanishi, Kenji, Si Hyung Lee, Ok Hwa Choi, and Kei Nakamura. “東アジアにおけ る対人恐怖の発見とその治療 (Discovery and Treatment of Taijin Kyofusho in East Asia).” Psychiatry 40, no. 5 (May 1998): 493–498. “きつね憑き Fox Fears (Kitsunetsuki Fox Fears).” 東京アニメアワードフェスティバル 2016 (Tokyo Anime Award Festival 2016). Accessed July 23, 2022. https://animefestival.jp/screen/list/2016sc31/. “くまみこ (Kuma Miko: Girl Meets Bear).” Season 1, ep. 2. Tokyo, Japan: Kinema Citrus and EMT Squared, 2016. Lebra, Takie Sugiyama. The Japanese Self in Cultural Logic. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2004. Lim, Leslie. “Taijin-Kyofu-Sho: A Subtype of Social Anxiety.” Open Journal of Psychiatry 03, no. 04 (2013): 393–398. https://doi.org/10.4236/ojpsych.2013.34042.

60  Cringuta Irina Pelea もみの家 (Momi’s House). Bitters.co.jp, 2020. https://bitters.co.jp/mominoie/. Negishi, Kennosuke. “民間信仰の医療民俗学的考察 (Popular Beliefs and Folk Medicine).” College of Medical Care and Technology, Gunma University 7 (1986): 9–25. https://gair.media.gunma-u.ac.jp/dspace/bitstream/10087/1920/1/ KJ00004436023.pdf. Nishioka, Karen. “A Place to Long For: The Representation of Paris in Hollywood Films.” Journal of Morisita Memorial Research 3 (n.d.). https://bulletin.morisita. or.jp/pdf/vol3/nishioka.pdf. “「おいてけぼり」―９０６０家族―　前編 (Trailer: Leaving Someone behind. The 9060 Problem).” 日テレNEWS (Nippon Television Network Corporation), June 1, 2022. https://news.ntv.co.jp/category/society/994504. “おいてけぼり～9060家族～35年間ひきこもる女性 (Leaving Someone behind. The 9060 Family - the Woman Who Has Been a Hikikomori for 35 Years).” Web log. 笑顔のレシピ (Recipes for a Smiling Face) (blog), May 2022. https://blog.goo.ne.jp/ egaonoresipi/e/cfe4a93ffe018401a7d7725d386eb81e. “Omori.” OMORI. Accessed October 25, 2022. https://www.omori-game.com. Oshio, Takashi. “What Factors Affect the Evolution of the Wife’s Mental Health after the Husband’s Retirement? Evidence from a Population-Based Nationwide Survey in Japan.” Journal of Epidemiology 31, no. 5 (2021): 308–314. https://doi. org/10.2188/jea.je20200071. Powell, Steve John, and Angeles Marin Cabello. “What Japan Can Teach Us about Cleanliness.” BBC.com. October 7, 2019. https://www.bbc.com/travel/ article/20191006-what-japan-can-teach-us-about-cleanliness. Ran, Mao-Sheng, Brian J. Hall, Tin Tin Su, Benny Prawira, Matilde Breth-Petersen, Xu-Hong Li, and Tian-Ming Zhang. “Stigma of Mental Illness and Cultural Factors in Pacific Rim Region: A Systematic Review.” BMC Psychiatry 21, no. 1 (2021). https://doi.org/10.1186/s12888-020-02991-5. Rep. ひきこもり等に関する実態調査結果 (Results of the Fact-Finding Survey Targeting Hikikomori). Ehime Prefecture, 2018. https://www.pref.ehime.jp/h25500/seisin/ documents/chousakekka0621.pdf. “吉沢亮「青天を衝け」5話。疫病、地震、アマビエ。現在とのリンク濃厚幕末の大混乱 (T.V. Drama Review: Ryo Yoshizawa in the 5th Episode of ‘Reach beyond the Blue Sky’. Plague, Earthquakes, and Legendary Sirens. Chaos in the Bakumatsu Period and its’ Connections to Today).” Telling Asahi. Accessed August 20, 2022. https:// telling.asahi.com/article/14283350. Sakai, Motohiro. Rep. ひきこもりの定義や本人をエンパワメントする家族支援の概要 (The Definition of Hikikomori. Overview of Family Assistance to Empower the Suferrer), 2022. https://www.mhlw.go.jp/content/12602000/000948283.pdf. Saitō, Takashi. “明治期日本における精神医学と狸憑き (Psychiatry and Animal ­Possession in the Meiji Era).” Academia. Humanities and natural sciences, Nanzan University 21 (2021): 315–322. https://researchmap.jp/tacacisaiteau/published_ papers/32526385/attachment_file.pdf. Souji, Nito, Twitter official account, September 2016, https://twitter.com/eternalstew. Sugaru, Miaki. 恋する寄生虫 (Parasite in Love). Tokyo, Japan: Kadokawa, 2018. 鈴木家の嘘 (Lying to My Mom). IMDb. IMDb.com, 2018. https://www.imdb.com/ title/tt8676424/.

Hikikomori and Taijin Kyofusho in Japanese Popular Culture  61 Takimoto, Tatsuhiko. N.H.K. にようこそ! (Welcome to the N.H.K). Los Angeles, CA: Tokyopop, 2007. 扉のむこう (Left Handed). IMDb. IMDb.com, 2008. https://www.imdb.com/title/ tt1342961/. Uchida, Yukiko, and Vinai Norasakkunkit. “The NEET and Hikikomori Spectrum: Assessing the Risks and Consequences of Becoming Culturally Marginalized.” Frontiers in Psychology 6 (2015). https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2015.01117. Ushida, Riko. “若者のひきこもり ―生きづらさの解消 (The Young Hikikomori Eliminating the ‘Difficulty of Living’).” Accessed September 23, 2022. https:// www.f.waseda.jp/k_okabe/semi-theses/1501riko_ushida.pdf. Wilson, Scott. “Braindance of the Hikikomori: towards a Return to Speculative Psychoanalysis.” Paragraph 33, no. 3 (2010): 392–409. https://doi.org/10.3366/ para.2010.0206. Yoshioka-Maeda, Kyoko. “The ‘8050 Issue’ of Social Withdrawal and Poverty in Japan’s Super-Aged Society.” Journal of Advanced Nursing, April 10, 2020. https:// doi.org/10.1111/jan.14372.

3 A Qigong-Induced Mental Disorder Zou Huo Ru Mo in Chinese Popular Culture Liu Jinxiu Introduction Zou huo ru mo (走火入魔, zǒu huǒ Rù mó) is a compound of four Chinese characters: zou (走), huo (火), ru (入), and mo (魔). Zou (走) and ru (入) are verbs, while huo (火) and mo (魔) are nouns. On one hand, huo (fire) is a common issue in Taoism as Taoists would try to generate fire from a specific region in their body, located about four centimeters below the navel, after focusing their mental energy on it. Afterward, they manage the fire to flow through the whole body, particularly along the two meridians (the ren 任 and du 督 meridians). Impatience or mistakes while “running the fire” could lead to backflow of qi (气, referring to the body’s inner energy) and blood, damaging the nerves and meridians. This makes it highly likely to induce vomiting, hemiplegia, or even death. The significant importance of “fire” in Taoism is related to the production of longevity pills, which undergo nine phases of tempering in the alchemist stove and the cultivation of internal elixir (nei dan, 內丹) for both the physical and spiritual development. This internal elixir “borrows a significant part of its vocabulary and imagery from the external elixir (wai dan, 外丹)”1 and can be achieved only through the perfect balance of these two kinds of fire. One is the progressively diminishing “civil fire” (wen huo 文火), while the other is known as the progressively intensifying “martial fire” (wu huo 武 火). Nevertheless, an imbalance between these two fires may lead to physical injury, resulting in what is known as zou huo (走火) in the Chinese context. Zou huo is therefore used to indicate a physiological issue rooted in Taoism. On the other hand, ru mo (入魔) is believed to have its origins in Buddha dharma. The character mo is a Sanskrit abbreviation for Mara ( , demon). It made its appearance in the translations of Buddhist scriptures into China in the Northern and Southern dynasties (420–589 AD). Later, mo gained additional meanings, such as “evil people” or “forces.” As demons tend to pique people’s curiosity, mo also came to refer to something related to magic or an object of fascination. Therefore, ru mo is used to indicate the deviation from the rightful paths and the mental disorder experienced by a practitioner with specific skills when they allow themselves to be controlled by excessive DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-5

Zou Huo Ru Mo in Chinese Popular Culture  63 eagerness and desire. This culturally rooted mental health problem is intertwined with delusional images – gods or demons – nesting in one’s mind. Ru mo thus literally means “devils come from the heart,” implying the neurological or mental status of this culture-bound syndrome. To sum up, zou huo and ru mo, originating from Taoism and Buddhism, respectively, indicate “deviation from the rightful practices,” which inevitably leads to uncontrolled behaviors and places individuals in life-threatening situations. Later, zou huo and ru mo have also become associated with signifying a Qigong-induced disorder characterized by excessive mental and physical disorder and infatuation, “an intense feeling and burning desire,” and the sensation of “being possessed by the devils” or influenced by “a mighty destructive force.” Linguistic Etymology and Evolution of Zou Huo Ru Mo Although references to mo can’t be traced in any Chinese literary works until the Tang Dynasty (618–907 AD), the situation changed rapidly thereafter. Historical records reveal that mo appeared 15 times in literary works such as Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio (聊斋志异), a collection of bizarre stories by Pu Songling (蒲松齢) during the Qing Dynasty. It was used either as a single word or as part of a compound, such as “tian mo wu” (天魔舞, the devil’s dance) or “mo nv” (魔女, a devil girl), and so forth. Since then, the usage of mo became more frequently. Furthermore, supplementary evidence is available: mo has been documented 21 times in Jottings from the Thatched Abode (阅微草堂笔记), and 239 times in The Canonization of the Gods (封神演义), and reached a high record of 940 times in Journey to the West (西游记). Like yin (阴, representing the feminine and negative) and yang (阳, representing the masculine and positive), the two opposing principles of nature indicting that everything encompasses two contrasting yet interconnected aspects. Accordingly, the contradiction, opposition, and unity between these two sides of any aspect in the universe are the inherent laws of motion, and the world is the result of this motion. Mo becomes an indispensable literary motif for unveiling people’s inner and darker thoughts. However, since its name signifies “the devil” and it exhibits a terrifying appearance and evil behaviors, it subsequently necessitates being balanced by an element of opposition. Therefore, a variety of gods assume significant roles in literary works, serving as positive characters and counterparts of mo.2 Drawing inspiration from a wide variety of ancient Chinese mythical narratives, these supernatural and evil novels connect with the historical memory of the Chinese ancestors. They explore the humanistic nature of literary works while employing images of gods and demons, which are perceived as reflections of human inner emotions. Furthermore, no other creative device proves more effective than the contrast between the holy and the devil in enhancing the dramatic turns of a plot and shaping readers’ perceptions to illustrate accurately the desires and sufferings of the characters.

64  Liu Jinxiu Socio-Historical and Cultural Background. Mo (魔) Versus Xia (侠): Demons Versus Righteous Warriors The juxtaposition of mo and supernatural spirits has endured in literary works through recent eras, such as Ming and Qing dynasties. As supernatural spirits are perceived as being distant from real life experiences, zou huo and ru mo were later merged into zou huo ru mo as they shared a similar meaning: that of deviating from proper methods in practicing specific skills. Xia can be used as a noun in singular and plural forms, and it carries a similar meaning to that of “the chivalrous knight” as portrayed in Western popular culture and literature. The reasons for xia taking the position of gods to combat mo can be explained by examining the linguistic origin of the Chinese character. In its written form, xia (侠) is a combination of the left part 人 (person) and the right part 夹 (armor). As a whole, it means “a person with an armor,” which is the most accepted explanation of the origin of this word. This “person” is more likely an intellectual who may previously have possessed some martial arts skills. This group of scholars formed a specific social class in ancient Chinese society. The chivalric spirit of the xia is exquisitely summed up by the following fragment from Records of History: Biographies of Knights-errant (史記). Their words are trusty. Their deeds are fruitful. Their promises are fulfilled. Regardless of their own life, they make every means to help others out of calamity. They rescue victims and kill thugs, but they never brag about what they have done. They regard it as a shame to talk proudly about their kindness to others. Accordingly, in many respect they deserve praise.3 One of the disciples of Confucius (孔夫子), Zi Lu (子路), is a relevant example of this social class structure. Scholars believed that he “came from a lower class” but was considered “brave”; therefore, later this attribute led him to become an armored person.4 The bravery and fearlessness of Zi Lu during the era of Confucius (the Spring and Autumn Period) are significant characteristics became closely associated with the general positive connotation of the xia (侠) culture. The earliest xia (侠) were “actually some of the intellectuals”5 or shi (士 大夫) a group of Confucian scholars whose thoughts and behavior were understandably influenced by Confucian culture.6 Among these influences, benevolence (仁, ren), which is at the core of Confucianism, played a significant part.7 Descriptions of these intellectuals can be found in The Book of Rites (礼 记), where: they are depicted as “happy to respect the four skills, establish Four Teachings, and educate themselves with (the teachings of) The Book of Songs (诗经), The Four Books (四书五经), The Book of Rites (礼记), and Classic of Music (乐经).”8 Later during the Warring States Period, these intellectuals were divided into two groups: those who excelled in writing became men of letters, while those demonstrated proficiency with weapons evolved into wandering martial arts practitioners.9

Zou Huo Ru Mo in Chinese Popular Culture  65 In “Biographies of Wandering Knights,” a chapter from The Historical Records (史记游侠列传) written by Sima Qian (司马迁), there are accounts of individuals like Guo Jie (郭解), Ju Meng (剧孟), and Zhu Jia (朱家), all of whom were grassroots xia hailing from the countryside. Regardless of their humble backgrounds, they are “faithful to their promises and would sacrifice their bodies for others if needed.”10 Xia thus enjoyed a high reputation and prestige across all social strata due to their commitment to helping distressed people and resolving grievances. During the reign of Emperor Wudi (汉武帝) of the Han Dynasty, General Wei Qing (卫青) made friends with xia and pledged the emperor to save Guo Jie’s life. Nevertheless, as Han Feizi (韩非子) once stated in his homonymic work: “Confucian scholars violated the law with their knowledge, while xia broke the taboos with martial arts.”11 These words of Han had a far-reaching influence on ancient Chinese society, and led to certain level of controversy surrounding the xia among the ruling class. Nevertheless, Sima Qian maintained his positive statements regarding xia’s ability to keep promises, detailing the outcomes of their actions and their readiness to sacrifice their bodies when needed.12 Part of Sima Qian’s perspective may have been influenced by the severe physical punishment by his emperor and his admiration for those who dared to defy the rulers. For the commoners disappointed with the harsh government and social injustice of their time, they often found solace in turning to xia to punish the evil and protect the good, destroy the existing social order, or resist the unreasonable social norms. Historical records indicate that several emperors during the Western Han Dynasty, such as Emperors Jing (汉景帝), Wu, and later the usurper Wang Mang (王莽), ordered to kill xia. This group gradually became marginalized, but their rebellious and chivalrous spirit was not wholly extinguished.13 An exemplary illustration of the chivalrous behavior of xia, such as Zhu Jia, can be found in “The Biography of Rangers” of  The Book of Han Dynasty (汉书游侠传) by Ban Gu (班固) of the Eastern Han Dynasty. Later, during the Tang Dynasty, the chivalrous spirit was mentioned in the renowned Tang poetry and additional legends, albeit in a more romantic light. Li Bai (李白), one of the most famous and important romantic poets of that period, wrote in his work,  The Journey of The Swordsmen  (侠客 行) that a xia person “would leave after helping others but wouldn’t give his name or what he had done,” which covered xia with a romantic veil. In another prominent literary work, The Legends of Tang, there are numerous similar illustrations:  Biography of Xie Xiao’e  (谢小娥传) by Li Gongzuo (李公佐), The Kunlun Slaves (昆仑奴) and Nie Yinniang (聂隐娘) by Pei Xing (裴铏), Biography of the Red Thread (红线传) by Yuan Jiao (袁郊), and The Merchant’s Wife (贾人妻) by Xue Yongruo (薛用弱). The Chinese have always held a deep admiration for chivalrous men with high moral pursuits, and martial arts novels have served as a manifestation of their underlying longing for an ideal world. In this world, the strong act as saviors, the good are protected, and the bad are punished. For this reason, martial arts novels are considered “mythical narratives” for adults as the romantic fantasy illustrated in the imaginary world of martial

66  Liu Jinxiu arts is centered on the manichaeistic conflicts between good and evil: xia (侠) versus mo (魔). In the subsequent Ming and Qing dynasties, xia continued to play a significant role in literary works. Notably, it is prominently represented in the martial arts novel Three Heroes and Five Gallants (三侠五义) by Shi Yukun (石玉昆) and even in the satirical novel The Scholars (儒林外史), also known as the Unofficial History of the Scholars by Wu Jingzi (吴敬梓). The writer hopes that “the brave, just and generous chivalrous spirit can be awakened to redeem the Confucian intellectuals, to urge them to create an ideal and peaceful society.”14 During this period, descriptions of female characters also emerged, often portraying them as both “beautiful and dominant.”15 The portrayals of the protagonists, as well as their weapons, mark an embodiment of Chinese cultural factors. The swords they carry are “cultural symbols” imbued with “obvious ethical and moral meaning” and “religious emotion and national characteristics.”16 The New Culture Movement, launched by Chen Duxiu (陈独秀), Li Dazhao (李大钊), Lu Xun (鲁迅), and others in the early twenties, had a positive and profound impact on literature, arts, and entertainment in China. The movement’s emphasis on the use of vernacular language connected the intellectuals and the lower classes for the first time in thousands of years. Novels, news, advertisements, cartoons, and other popular culture proliferated, reaching nearly all city corners. Ordinary citizens, who constituted the main segment of readers, were particularly fascinated by the secular martial arts narratives of “robbing the rich and helping the poor while making use of excellent martial arts skills.”17 There were two significant waves of martial arts: one in the 1920s and the other in the 1950s. However, martial arts novels reached their culmination in the 1980s when eight out of ten bestsellers were martial arts-themed. A massive of people became fascinated by the enchanting world of martial arts, where gratitude and revenge are ultimately repaid with superior martial arts and skillful manipulation of weapons such as blades and swords. Contemporary martial arts culture is more or less “altruistic,” and its parochialism is reduced.18 Movies, TV series, computer games, and cartoons about martial arts (culture) become highly popular, and their success is deeply rooted in the storylines originally derived from martial arts books and similar narratives. The initial, enormous commercial success merely paved the way for the expansion of the film market on a national scale, and later on a global scale. Records show the first movie, Stealer in the Car, was released in 1919, followed by the  Four Heroes of the Wang Family  (1927), produced by the China Lily movie company. This film successfully commercialized in other countries as well. Burning the Red Lotus Temple (1928) by Zhang Shichuan of the Shanghai Star Film Company was an instant success, being followed by no less than 18 remakes in the following three years. All these facts underscore the undeniable enthusiasm of Chinese people for supernatural martial arts films. Before long, Burning the Red Lotus Temple came to be regarded as a relic of feudalism by the Kuomintang government and became the target of national censorship, being forbidden to reproduce.19 Following its ban, martial arts cinema experienced a period of silence.

Zou Huo Ru Mo in Chinese Popular Culture  67 However, with the emergence of ­cinema set in isolated islands, Hong Kong, and other places within mainland China, a media resurrection of martial arts films has been witnessed. Numerous examples of cinematic adaptations of anecdotes and stories exist from early writings such as  The Historical Records  or other popular novels in mainland China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan in the 1950s and 1960s. Movies and TV dramas produced in the 1980s and later promoted the Confucianist ideology and emphasized benevolence, as seen in productions like Shaolin Temple (1982) and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000). Through the xia spirit, martial arts genre explores deeply the human nature and integrates people’s desire, anxiety, pain, and/or regrets within their inner selves, enabling readers and audiences to imagine the character’s development and express their feelings while reading and watching. Writers in this genre also employ martial arts narratives to convey their cultural perspectives and ethical discourses. These narratives construct myths around martial arts, which are the fundamental and secret elements of the Chinese people’s dreams and aspirations.20 Zou huo ru mo as the misbehavior and devil possession is a logical product of martial arts works. There are always gods or xia to combat mo, as mo is not merely portrayed just for its own sake. The reflection of human nature in martial arts works is inevitable, as a common motif of martial arts stories involve antagonistic individuals attempting to pose a threat to good ones. In response, the good seek to eliminate the threat, evoling various conflicts and confrontations with “the bad,” or fighting with his/her desire/violence in this process. Literature Review: Zou Huo Ru Mo as a Culture-bound Syndrome Very little English-language literature is available on zou huo ru mo as a culturebound syndrome, and we came across no other study exploring the narrative representations and visual imagery of this cultural syndrome in Chinese popular culture. Before proceeding to the following sections, which will present detailed depictions while transcending the language barriers, it is equally important to review the academic studies dedicated to this culture-bound syndrome. Known as a classic Chinese term, zou huo ru mo represents, in fact, a “Qigong deviation” (气功偏差); thus, it is perceived as a Qigong-induced disorder, a terminology that might pose cultural obstacles to Western psychiatry.21 In fact, the diagnostic terms “Qigong psychosis” and “Qigong psychotic reaction” were coined in the late 70s by Ken Cohen as English translation for the Chinese expression zou huo ru mo.22 However, it was not until 1994 that the expression “Qigong psychotic reaction” was included in the glossary of culture-bound syndromes in DSM-IV.23 In Chinese culture, Qigong-like exercises embody a philosophy of life-promoting wellness and self-awareness and may bring significant physical and psychological benefits, such as improving blood and Qi circulation.24 Chinese physicians frequently make use of Qigong in curing various diseases by employing two methods:25 the first one, a rare occurrence, when the Qigong

68  Liu Jinxiu master sends external Qi to the patients, and the second one, the most common, is “the self-treatment method: a patient can practice Qigong alone to improve physical functions, strengthen physique, and eliminate diseases from the body.”26 However, if practiced inappropriately, Qigong can lead to Qigong-induced health disturbances known as pian cha (偏差), resulting in aberrant behaviors, “abnormal psychosomatic responses, and even mental disorders.”27 In this regard, Chinese specialists classify such disturbances in the following main categories: sensory and motor disturbances (spirit possession, distracting thoughts, and mental derangement). Among these, zou huo ru mo is considered a severe form falling in the last category.28 As Ng summarizes: (…) the flow of Qi deviates from the conduits, creates havoc and culminates in the intrusion of a devil into the person (metaphorically, referring to the emergence of psychotic symptoms). Zou huo ru mo describes delusional thinking that results from incorrect and excessive training.29 Symptoms may include “incoherent speech, excitement, depression, fright, bewilderment, catatonia, or paranoia,”30 and the manifestations may differ by case: The psychotic patient may visualise apparitions, experience auditory hallucinations in the form of voices of supernatural beings teaching him Qigon and may develop delusions that he was contacting beings from another dimension. Some manifest the delusion of being a Qigong instructor with supernormal power and the ability to receive messages without using the ordinary five senses.31 The treatment of such deviances is established after an initial consultation with a Qigong instructor or a Qigong doctor, usually at a Qigong clinic. Whereas severe forms of Qigong-related disturbances are treated by psychiatrists, in most cases, a Qigong correction therapy plan known as jiu pian (纠偏) is prescribed.32 This correction plan may include relaxing techniques, mental concentration exercises, breathing exercises, herbal remedies, and acupuncture, among other therapeutic measures.33 Narrative Representations of Zou Huo Ru Mo in Chinese Popular Culture Historical Figures: Authentic Records of the Cultural Syndrome

Instances of zou huo ru mo can be traced not only in literary works and recent popular culture products but also in historical documents. Several members of royal families such as the Emperor Shizong of the Ming Dynasty, Emperor Yongzheng of the Qing Dynasty, Emperor Huizong (徽宗) of the Song Dynasty, and Prince Li Ningming (李宁明) of the Western Xia Dynasty

Figure 3.1  Hanging scroll of Emperor Shizong, Ming Dynasty (1368–1644)

Zou Huo Ru Mo in Chinese Popular Culture  69

70  Liu Jinxiu have suffered from this culture-bound syndrome. For instance, Zhu Houcong (朱厚熜), Emperor Shizong of the Ming Dynasty (from September 16, 1507 to January 23, 1567), also the 11th Emperor of the Ming Dynasty (reigning from May 27, 1521 to January 23, 1567), gradually lost his will to live and became deeply immersed in Taoism. He superstitiously believed in alchemists and harbored fantasies of achieving immortality. To achieve his delusions, he consumed pills containing toxic substances such as arsenic, mercury, realgar, and cinnabar for a very long term. His obsession with Taoism led to the corruption of the imperial government of that time and had severe consequences for the society of that time. Historical records reveal the classical symptomatology of zou huo ru mo: possessed by an uncontrollable and fervent aspiration toward Taoism, the emperor ordered hundreds of maids to collect nectar for him to drink, and he refrained from attending court for more than 20 years. Another historical figure who suffered from this Chinese folk illness is Emperor Shizong of the Qing Dynasty, more commonly known as Yongzheng (雍正) (from December 13, 1678 to October 8, 1735). He served as the fifth monarch of the Qing Dynasty from 1722 to 1735. Yongzheng’s “burning desire” toward Taoism and Buddhism led to his obsession with the desire to achieve immortality, surpassing the aspirations of many other Chinese historical figures. Historical archives indicate that he consumed more than 100 kg of immortality pills. It comes as no surprise that many Chinese historians, while conducting research on the archives of the Qing Palace, have linked his mysterious death to poising probably caused by ingesting such large quantity of immortality pills. Chinese Media and Popular Culture: A Modern Perspective

Zou huo ru mo frequently appears in China’s popular culture, employed particularly as a narrative device in martial arts novels, a well-accepted subgenre of literary writing featuring famous writers such as Huan Zhu Lou Zhu (还珠楼主), Liang Yusheng (梁羽生), Louis Cha (or Jin Yong, 金庸), to name a few. Among them, Louis Cha stands out for creating a fictional and systematic martial arts world where numerous breathtaking events occurred. Therefore, zou huo ru mo illustrates a situation where a character treads an “evil path” or achieves a much-desired result by relying on their martial arts skills without proper guidance or adherence to the rightful path outlined in the secret martial arts scriptures. However, as a narrative device, it gained nationwide popularity after the spread of martial arts novels to Taiwan and Hong Kong. As the famous saying goes, “All other martial arts schools came from Shaolin kung-fu.” It is widely accepted that Shaolin kung-fu emerged in China with its domestic martial arts by incorporating and adapting concepts and methods from India and some Western regions. Martial arts played an essential role in Chinese history, becoming deeply ingrained in collective memory in China’s cultural and ecological environment and influencing the essence of every Chinese person. With numerous and continuous records

Zou Huo Ru Mo in Chinese Popular Culture  71

Figure 3.2 Portrait of Yongzheng Emperor. By an unidentified artist Chinese, nineteenth century Source: The Metropolitan Museum of Art

72  Liu Jinxiu of martial arts practitioners and the “martial arts culture, these narratives have left a lasting impact. ­ Martial arts narratives focus on the physical strengthening, the vigorous fight against evil spirits, and the development of one’s personality. They become an accurate embodiment of the muchdesired Confucian benevolence idea and its four principal values. Therefore, when striving for physical improvement and spiritual fulfillment, martial arts practitioners become motivated by strict moral standards and the emotional satisfaction that accompanies their success. The portraits of antagonists afflicted by zou huo ru mo who teeter on the brink of insanity and are seemingly possessed by demons serve a double role. First, they illustrate the conditions associated with culture-bound syndrome. Second, they serve as a moral warning. Hence, such individuals affected by this culture-bound syndrome have ended up under the control of demoniac forces due to their lack of self-­discipline to follow faithfully the Confucian teachings in their process of improving the performance and skills of their martial art. These ill characters, seized by evil forces, can be perceived, to some extent, as entertaining. Their funny behavior, weird facial expressions, and their eccentric and unreasonable patterns of thinking, all converge to produce carnivalesque imagery. However, the moral warning is aimed at guiding those unaffected by this cultural syndrome and yet witness such development. Culturally speaking, it reveals the clash between the characters’ temptation and conscience, generating dramatic tension. Zou Huo Ru Mo in the Chivalric Novels. The Literary Legacy of Louis Cha

Louis Cha’s works provide a rich database of characters suffering from zou huo ru mo. As one of the four canonical martial arts writers (the others are Liang Yusheng, Gu Long, and Wen Rui-an), he held, for over 20 years, the official record of being the author of all eight pieces on the bestselling list in the 1980s. Their influences are still acknowledged among critics, writers, and readers, with Cha’s achievements being the most lauded among them. Critics agree that Cha’s works explored “the fulness of characters, the depth of feelings” with “the vividness of language,” and his artistic concept of richness versus desolation is “far superior to the so-called modern and contemporary masterpieces.”34 This perspective, articulated by Long and echoed by Ni Kuang, another well-established writer, and critic, who stated that “the depth of his (Cha’s) description of human nature, the preciseness of his novel structure, the ingenuity of his use of words” were “unique” in the past 30 years.35 Characters in Cha’s works span all spheres and professions, including the emperor, commoners, Han people, ethnic minorities, men and women, and so forth. “The depth of the description of human nature” lies in Cha’s parallelism of xia and mo images and his creation and accurate depiction of zou huo ru mo characters in nearly each of his works.

Zou Huo Ru Mo in Chinese Popular Culture  73 There are a total of 54 instances of zou huo ru mo found throughout all of Cha’s 15 works are evident, with  The Legend of Condor Shooting Heroes (1957–1959) alone five times. The Chinese character mo is used 55 times only in this piece. The figures undergoing zou huo ru mo are: Li Mochou and Qiu Qianren in The Legend of Condor Heroes (1959–1961); Ouyang Feng in The Legend of Condor Shooting Heroes; Jiu Mozhi and Murong Fu in The Eight Heavenly Dragons (1963–1966), Yang Dingtian, Xie Xun and Zhou Zhiruo in the story of Leaning on the Sky and Killing the Dragon (1961–1963). Needless to say, the list of examples can continue. The reasons for individuals being possessed by mo or turning into zou huo ru mo vary from person to person due to their different life experiences and their characters. However, most symptoms of this cultural syndrome are caused by physical misbehavior or overly mental obsessiveness toward what they are longing for. At least five iconic scenes from Cha’s  The Legend of Condor Shooting Heroes can be mentioned as highly relevant instances portraying rationalities and manifestations of zou huo ru mo. 1. “If I show you the scripture, you will be greedy for more kung-fu and practice all of them in the scripture. You definitely will be possessed by evil spirits. That can be as light as an injury, or serious to death. Although there are many kung-fu in the scripture, you should only practice what you can to match the basic kung-fu we have learned.”36 It tells that if one is overly greedy for what’s beyond his/her ability, it will lead to the zou huo ru mo (with the meaning of “being possessed by evil spirits,” thus a “mental and physical disorder”). 2. “No one instructed me to practice my internal skills, so I lost controlled of my body and became half paralyzed.”37 Here losing control of the body and being “half paralyzed” are also symptoms of zou huo ru mo. 3. When the male protagonist Guo Jing is practicing his kung-fu on the ­Mongolian cliff, “whenever he is in a trance and his mind could not calm down, Ma Yu often touched his Dazhui acupoint gently to help him calm down with a warm breath in his palm, so as to avoid his zou huo ru mo (being possessed by evil spirits).”38 In this sentence, zou huo ru mo is caused by “trance” and “his mind could not calm down”; it lists the importance of inner peace when practicing. 4. “Huang Rong knows that this healing method is the same as the ordinary meditation practice; if she is slightly hesitant before her accomplishment, or being attacked by outsiders or interfered by the inner evils for a moment or a half, she will inevitably zou huo ru mo (become possessed by the devil). She will not only lose all her skills, but also be injured or lose her life.”39 This is mainly about how zou huo ru mo will affect the body: “losing skills,” “being injured,” or even “losing life.” 5. “These strange states are often experienced by people who practice superior internal skills. However, when monks encounter this state, they are

74  Liu Jinxiu always trembling with fear to prevent suffering from zou huo ru mo (being possessed by the evil spirits, and seeing the devils). Unexpectedly, there is a mysterious method to turn the demon of the soul into a supernatural power. That’s really a magic formula.”40 Here, we see that mo can be defeated and the possibility of transforming mo into a magic force providing with a right method. One more paragraph from his Condors trilogy is tremendously helpful in understanding zou huo ru mo: Since then, each (martial) school has been cultivating internal skills, focusing on breathing, meditating and practicing the internal energy. The internal skills of Huashan School have a different way. It practices internal strength from the outside to the inside with the palm technique. Although this skill takes a long time and has a slow effect, it has no danger of zou huo ru mo during the practice, and it is more powerful after the practice. When facing the enemy all moves are both natural and have internal strength as internal and external cultivation are simultaneous so as to defeat the enemy inadvertently.41 More examples from his other works can be provided in this regard: Chengzhi thought to himself, “the master always warns that when you practice martial arts, you should avoid becoming possessed by the evils. Otherwise, you will become confused and difficult to deal with.”42 Furthermore, when a practitioner reaches a certain level, he will often have hallucinations, or hear thunder, or suffer from severe pain and itching. Only when he takes it as an illusion and ignores it, can he avoid being possessed by evil spirits.43 These last three extended quotes provide thus further information on the causes and cultural framing of zou huo ru mo as an authentic Chinese ­culture-bound syndrome. From this perspective, we can conclude that Cha’s works provide excellent portrayals of zou huo ru mo cases and figures. The preceding examples depict this folk illness as being caused by different issues, either “greed,” “lack of instruction,” one’s “hesitance,” being “attacked by external forces,” and so forth. The wide range of effects can vary from a minor injuries to potentially fatal consequences. However, what deserves special attention is Cha’s analysis of female characters, suffering from zou huo ru mo: being lovelorn leads them to insanity. For instance, Li Mochou from The Return of the Condor Heroes lost her senses due to her ex-lover’s breaking his promise of marrying her after she had waited him for many years. Nevertheless, Ouyang Feng of The Legend of the Condor Heroes remains the funniest and most impressive figure tormented by this folk illness, and he

Zou Huo Ru Mo in Chinese Popular Culture  75 is most significant villain in all of Cha’s fiction. Nicknamed “Western Poison,” his sickness debuts due to wrongfully practicing kung-fu and disobeying the scriptures, making the audience witness him imitating the walking of a frog. Likewise, the most abominable stricken figures are those in Laughing in the Martial World (1967–1969): they have to self-castrate before they start practicing kung-fu from Sunflower Manual, a secret and vicious scroll. It is reasonable to assert that without these characters suffering from zou huo ru mo and the appropriate underlying explanations, it would be hard to understand and enjoy martial arts narratives among a variety of popular culture genres. Zou Huo Ru Mo in China’s Contemporary Society As previously mentioned, mo, as part of the complex Chinese visual imagery, had the specific role of combatting xia in martial arts. Nevertheless, once with the emergence of the current administrative body, which is deemed modern and civilized, the opposition of mo versus xia gradually loses its significance in the contemporary context of post-industrial society. However, the ongoing digitalization of Chinese society has also led to the emergence and widespread use of online social media platforms, making martial arts novels available online for Chinese readers all across the country. This genre remains an undisputable preference and choice for the Chinese audience, and such works are constantly adapted into TV dramas, movies, or cartoons such as Kung Fu Panda. This overwhelming popularity can be explained by delving into the deep-rooted martial arts spirits, which remain embedded in the mind of every Chinese. Nonetheless, nowadays martial arts fiction has gradually lost its practical significance, given the modern background, and this poses consistent challenges for preserving this imaginary world. From this perspective, we can assert that the digitalization process might have helped the distribution and commercialization of such works, but it has negatively affected the historical value and cultural authenticity of the narratives. Therefore, in real life, chances to encounter instances of this culture-bound syndrome are constantly decreasing, whereas we can easily locate it in online literature, where the perpetual conflict between mo and xia remains vivid. With fewer people practicing Taoist skills or expressing their interest in taking the famous longevity pills, it’s becoming uncommon to experience instances of zou huo ru mo. Moreover, the meaning of this culture-bound syndrome has acquired slightly different nuances depending on the context. Currently, it mainly refers to “the intense feeling and burning desire” toward something or serves as a metaphor for “the mighty destructive force,” nearly losing the meaning of “the disorder of the body or mind.” One such example is the following: “children addicted to computers” are suffering from zou huo ru mo (走火入 魔的电脑儿童). Zou huo ru mo here refers to being controlled by a “burning desire” or “mighty destructive force.” The whole sentence implies that children who are addicted to computers have a “burning desire” toward computers, and metaphorically speaking, they are under the destructive influence of computers.

76  Liu Jinxiu Conclusion With roots in Taoist and Buddhist practice and shaped by the official ­discourse of Confucianism and ancient Chinese myths, the culture-bound syndrome of zou huo ru mo is deeply influenced by China’s traditional culture and historic heritage. As a narrative device, it has become familiar and popular among commoners thanks to the dissemination of martial arts novels – fictional legends and stories of individuals’ endeavors to achieve personal success and fulfill their dreams under the Confucian guidance of benevolence. Martial arts novels, otherwise perceived in China as “fairy tales for adults,” create a utopian world in which the martially skilled are supposed to act benevolently, protect good people, and punish bad ones, thus avoiding falling victim to this Qigong-induced disorder. Nowadays, zou huo ru mo has turned into a phrase illustrating the negative result of out-of-control violence, desire, and unyielding greed. Notes 1 Mu Wang and Fabrizio Pregadio, Foundations of Internal Alchemy: The Taoist Practice of Neidan (Mountain View, CA: Golden Elixir Press, 2011). 2 Lu, Xun, A Brief History of Chinese Fiction (Beijing: Beijing United Publishing Company, 2013), 236. 3 Qian Sima, Records of History (Beijing: Zhonghua Book Company, 1959), 3181. 4 Feng, Youlan. Supplement to the History of Chinese Philosophy (Beijing: ­Commercial Press, 1936), 43. 5 Xu, Dai. “Scholar’s Way and Swordsmen’s Behavior.” Journal of Southwest University Social Science Edition, 2009 (3): 35. 6 Zhang, Congrong. “The Cultural Essence and Personal Taste of Xia,” Academic Exchange, 2007 (163): 165–167. 7 Zhang, Congrong. “The Cultural Essence and Personal Taste of Xia,” Academic Exchange, 2007 (163): 165–167. 8 Chen, Shan. History of Chinese Martial Arts (Shanghai: Shanghai SDX Joint ­Publishing Company, 1995), 27, 28. 9 Ibid. 10 Zhou, Xiaotian. A Guide to Historical Records (Chengdu: Sichuan Dictionary Publishing House, 1997), 265. 11 Zhou, Xunchu. Han Feizi’s Proofreading Note (Nanjing: Phoenix Publishing House, 2009), 115; Dong, Xiaowei, New Selected Readings of Ancient Chinese Literature (Shanghai, Chengdu: Sichuan University Press, 2008), 69. 12 Sima, Qian. Historical Records· Biographies of Rangers (Shanghai: Shanghai Ancient Books Publishing House, 1997), 1485. 13 Wang, Yongshou. “An Analysis of the ‘Moral Jianghu’ of the Current Martial Arts Films.” Film Literature, 2012 (7): 12, 13. 14 Shi, Ye. “Description of ‘Martial Arts’ in the Extraordinary History of Scholars and Cultural Implications.” Journal of Shanghai Normal University (Philosophy and Social Sciences Edition), 2011 (2): 81–87. 15 Wang, Xu. “A Study on the Images of Female Xia in the Martial Arts Novels of the Qing Dynasty.” Cultural Journal, 2015 (5): 64, 65. 16 Luo, Liqun. “The expression of ‘swordsmanship’ in Ancient Martial Arts Novels and Its Cultural Implication.” Nankai Journal, 2006 (6): 114–119.

Zou Huo Ru Mo in Chinese Popular Culture  77 17 Shi, Ye. “Description of ‘Martial Arts’ in the Extraordinary History of Scholars and Cultural Implications.” Journal of Shanghai Normal University (Philosophy and Social Sciences Edition), 2011 (2): 81–87. 18 Guo, Yucheng. “Contemporary Social Value of Martial Arts Culture.” Fight: Martial Arts Science, 2012 (11): 127. 19 China Film Yearbook 1994. Editorial Committee of China Film Yearbook, ­(Beijing: China Film Press, 1995), 308. 20 An, Ling. “The Collapse of Martial Arts Myth and the Irony of Traditional Culture - on Louis Cha’s Novel the Deer Tripod.” Journal of Xinjiang University, 27, no. 1, 1999, 91–94. 21 Beng-Yeong Ng. “Qigong-Induced Mental Disorders: A Review,” Australian & New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry 33, no. 2 (1999): 197–206, https://doi. org/10.1046/j.1440-1614.1999.00536.x. 22 Ken Cohen. The Way of Qigong = Ch’i Kung Chi Tao: The Art and Science of Chinese Energy Healing (New York, New York: Ballantine Books, 1999). 23 American Psychiatric Association. Diagnostic Criteria from DSM-IV-TR (Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Association, 2000). 24 Jwing-Ming Yang. Eight Simple Qigong Exercises for Health: The Eight Pieces of Brocade (Jamaica Plain, MA: YMAA Publication Center, 1997). 25 Beng-Yeong Ng. “Qigong-Induced Mental Disorders: A Review,” Australian &Amp; New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry 33, Vol. 2 (1999): 197–206, https:// doi.org/10.1046/j.1440-1614.1999.00536.x. 26 Beng-Yeong Ng, ibid. 27 Beng-Yeong Ng, ibid. 28 Beng-Yeong Ng, ibid. 29 Beng-Yeong Ng, ibid. 30 Beng-Yeong Ng, ibid. 31 Beng-Yeong Ng, ibid. 32 Beng-Yeong Ng, ibid. 33 Beng-Yeong Ng, ibid. 34 Long, Xianlei. “Martial Arts Fictions and Louis Cha.” Tsinghua Talents Face to Face (Hohhot: Inner Mongolia Culture Press, 2007), 127. 35 Ni, Kuang. Novels of Louis Cha. Third Edition (Taipei: Vision Publishing Company, 1992), 10. 36 Cha, Louis. The Legend of Condor Shooting Heroes (Shanghai: Shanghai SDX Joint Publishing Company, 1980), 174. 37 Ibid, 396. 38 Ibid, 645. 39 Ibid, 923. 40 Ibid, 1343. 41 Cha, Sword Stained with Royal Blood (Shanghai: Shanghai SDX Joint Publishing Company, 1980), Vol. 6, p. 193. 42 Ibid, Vol. 4, p. 221. 43 Ibid, Vol. 10, p. 2974.

References An, Ling. “The Collapse of Martial Arts Myth and the Irony of Traditional Culture on Louis Cha’s Novel the Deer Tripod.” Journal of Xinjiang University, Vol. 27, No. 1, 1999: 91–94. American Psychiatric Association. Diagnostic Criteria from DSM-IV-TR. Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Association, 2000.

78  Liu Jinxiu Cha, Louis. The Legend of Condor Shooting Heroes. Shanghai: Shanghai SDX Joint Publishing Company, 1980. ———. Sword Stained with Royal Blood. Shanghai: Shanghai SDX Joint Publishing Company, 1980. Chen, Mo. Daoguang Chivalrous Montage - Chinese Martial Arts Film Theory. ­Beijing: China Film Publishing House, 1996. Chen, Shan. History of Chinese Martial Arts. Shanghai: Shanghai SDX Joint Publishing Company, 1995. China Film Yearbook 1994. Editorial Committee of China Film Yearbook, Beijing: China Film Press, 1995. Cohen, Ken. The Way of Qigong = Ch’i Kung Chi Tao: The Art and Science of Chinese Energy Healing. New York: Ballantine Books, 1999. Dong, Xiaowei, New Selected Readings of Ancient Chinese Literature. Shanghai, Chengdu: Sichuan University Press, 2008. Feng, Youlan. Supplement to the History of Chinese Philosophy. Beijing: Commercial Press, 1936. Guo, Yucheng. “Contemporary Social Value of Martial Arts Culture.” Fight: Martial Arts Science, Vol. 11, 2012: 127. Jia, Leilei. “Chinese Martial Arts Films and Their Cultural Spirit.” [D] Nanjing: Nanjing Normal University, 2007. Long, Xianlei. “Martial Arts Fictions and Louis Cha”. Qtd. from Liu, Guosheng. Tsinghua Talents Face to Face, Hohhot: Inner Mongolia Culture Press, 2007: 127. Lu, Xun. A Brief History of Chinese Fiction. Beijing: Beijing United Publishing Company, 2013. Luo, Liqun. “The Expression of ‘Swordsmanship’ in Ancient Martial Arts Novels and Its Cultural Implication.” Nankai Journal, Vol. 6, 2006: 114–119. Ng, Beng-Yeong. “Qigong-Induced Mental Disorders: A Review.” Australian & New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry, Vol. 33, No. 2 (1999): 197–206. https://doi. org/10.1046/j.1440-1614.1999.00536.x. Ni, Kuang. Novels of Louis Cha. Third Edition, Taipei: Vision Publishing Company, 1992. Sima, Qian. Records of History. Beijing: Zhonghua Book Company, 1959. ———. Records of History· Biographies of Rangers. Shanghai: Shanghai Ancient Books Publishing House, 1997. Shi, Ye. “Description of ‘Martial Arts’ in the Extraordinary History of Scholars and Cultural Implications.” Journal of Shanghai Normal University (Philosophy and Social Sciences Edition), Vol. 2, 2011: 81–87. Wang, Mu, and Fabrizio Pregadio. Foundations of Internal Alchemy: The Taoist Practice of Neidan. Mountain View, CA: Golden Elixir Press, 2011. Wang, Xu. “A Study on the Images of Female Xia in the Martial Arts Novels of the Qing Dynasty,” Cultural Journal, Vol. 5, 2015: 64, 65. Wang, Yongshou. “An Analysis of the ‘Moral Jianghu’ of the Current Martial Arts Films.” Film Literature, Vol. 7, 2012: 12, 13. Yang, Jwing-Ming. Eight Simple Qigong Exercises for Health: The Eight Pieces of Brocade. Jamaica Plain, MA: YMAA Publication Center, 1997. Xu, Dai. “Scholar’s Way and Swordsmen’s Behavior.” Journal of Southwest University (Social Science Edition), Vol. 3, 2009: 35–46.

Zou Huo Ru Mo in Chinese Popular Culture  79 Yu, Chengzhou. “Aesthetics of the Spread of Martial Arts Culture.” Cultural and Educational Materials, Vol. 19, July 2012: 76, 77. Zhang, Congrong. “The Cultural Essence and Personal Taste of Xia,” Academic Exchange, Vol. 163, 2007: 165–167. Zhou, Xiaotian. A Guide to Historical Records. Chengdu: Sichuan Dictionary Publishing House, 1997. Zhou, Xunchu. Han Feizi’s Proofreading Note. Nanjing: Phoenix Publishing House, 2009.

Part II

India and Southeast Asia

4 Cultural Syndromes in India Understanding Widow Burning in Sati and Jauhar through Indian Literature Prachi Priyanka Introduction Sati  (Su-thi or Suttee, सती) means a virtuous woman. A word with a wide semantic range, sati is generally implied for a woman who burns herself alive on her dead husband’s funeral pyre. It can also refer to the action, custom (सती प्रथा ), or event whereby a woman is immolated on her husband’s pyre while an audience watches over with reverence. The sati then is elevated to the stature of goddess or satimata (सती माता). The Hobson-Jobson dictionary says that sati is “the rite of widow-burning” as practiced by people of certain castes among the Hindus, and eminently by the “Rajputs.”1 The chapter will take up a segment of the suttee debate, specifically the attitudes of common masses presented in the traditional materials which have been less explored, less understood. Though references to Vedas, epics, and Puranas have been made to hold discourse on suttee, attempts to understand the phenomenon have been very few. This chapter will examine how traditional prescriptive codes of conduct for women have been misread and misinterpreted by underlying social paradigms from which culture-bound syndromes like suttee emerge. In its origin, sati is a Sanskrit feminine participle derived from the verb “to be.” The true devotion of a wife to her husband, her moral truth (sat, satya), becomes manifest at the moment she becomes sati. Since it is the moment of the actual act of immolation when the virtue becomes fully visible, sati as a person then depends on sati as practice. While Hindi speakers prefer the phrase sati hona (becoming a sati, सती होना), Sanskrit restricts itself to more precise terms such as sahagamana (going together with one’s husband, सहगमना  ) or anugamana (following one’s husband’s death, अनुगमना). Besides these two forms of becoming sati, there is another kind of sati attested to in Harshacharita, the historical romance by Banabhatta about his patron king Harshavardhana composed in the seventh century AD. The fifth chapter of Harshacharita describes how Yashomati, the mother of Harsa, consigns

DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-7

Figure 4.1  Suttee. Gouache painting by an Indian artist, ca. 1880

84  Prachi Priyanka

Cultural Syndromes in India  85 herself to the flames in anticipation of her husband’s death. When Prince Harsa tries to dissuade her, she says: I would die while still unwidowed. I cannot endure, like the widowed Rati, to make unavailing lamentations for a burnt husband. Going before, like the dust of your father’s feet, to announce his coming to the heavens … Not in the body, dear son, but in the glory of loyal widows would I abide on earth.2 Finally, after worshipping the fire, “she plunged into it, as the moon’s form enters the adorable sun.”3 This is not a proper case of sati, as Yashomati burnt herself even before her husband died. However, she refers to herself as one of the loyal widows and such unique cases of sati may be referred to as those of Pūrvānumaraṇa (पूर्वानुमरना), notwithstanding the paradoxical connotation, which reflects the paradox of the situation itself. In traditional context, no higher form of praise could have been imparted to a woman than to call her sati. In addition to sati as a person and sati as practice, the word has a third dimension – one that appears both in Indian and in European languages. It can be a proper noun, referring to the goddess Sati. The traditional Hindu practice of self-immolation conducted by widows was believed to be a “meritorious act” that took the widow’s soul directly to heaven. There was also a popular belief that the woman’s action would expiate the sins of her husband’s family. Such ideas had produced a cult predicated on the suttee’s “magical efficacy.”4 There were temples built in memory of the woman who committed sati, and she was worshipped as a goddess. In some instances, maha-sati stones5 (hero stones, वीर स्तम्भ) were erected to honour these women after their deaths. The myth of the goddess Sati or Dakshayani6 is often cited in defence of the practice of female self-immolation. In Hindu mythology, Sati is the name of the wife of Lord Shiva. Sati had married Shiva against her father’s wishes, and when Daksha, her father, organized a massive sacrifice but deliberately did not invite Shiva, Sati was enraged as it was an insult to her husband. In a rage to protest against the hatred that her father held for her husband, she burned herself. A devoted and loving wife that she was, she kept praying to be reborn as Shiva’s wife. This did happen, and her new incarnation is called Parvati. For centuries, people have used this myth to justify the practice based on this tale. Strictly speaking, Sati does not commit sati – at least not in any major version of her myth. True, she does sacrifice herself for the sake of her husband Shiva, yet nowhere does Shiva predecease Sati. He is alive and well as he carries her corpse throughout India, even if he is driven almost insane by her death. Greif-stricken, Shiva wandered the universe with Sati’s corpse. Finally, Lord Vishnu dismembered Sati’s body in fifty-one parts,

86  Prachi Priyanka

Figure 4.2  Shiva with Sati seated in a Lotus Blossom. Dated since the early 1800s

each of which became a Shakti-pitha7 (शक्ति पीठ), a temple dedicated to Sati. ­Interestingly, the motif of self-immolation is absent in several versions of this story that states Sati dies not by burning but by retreating into an irreversible

Cultural Syndromes in India  87 yogic coma. If Sati is to be an example of the good, virtuous woman, the myth, according to Sattar, only highlights: … the righteous rage of a wife to insist that her husband’s difference, his “outsiderness” from the norm, does not warrant his exclusion from the rituals and customs of society. Thus Sati would be an empowered woman, not a wilful one nor one who ceases to be of any importance after the death of her husband.8 Nevertheless, the story of Sati’s self-immolation often becomes an integral part of any discussion on the practice of sati, both when it is defended and when it is opposed. The Sati legend, in fact, provides a general paradigm for a woman’s boundless devotion to her husband. Sati’s defiance of her father is the ultimate test of her love and commitment towards her husband. But while this myth is the one best known throughout India, most people involved in the religion of sati today are apt to associate the practice of sati not primarily with Sati but with one of the goddesses known as “sati mother” (satimata). The sati goddesses are venerated at numerous spots in Rajasthan and the surrounding region. These satimatas are “real” satis, who are believed to have immolated themselves on their husbands’ pyres at some point in the past. One of the biggest sati temples is Rani Sati Temple (राणी सती दादी मंदिर) located in Jhunjhunu district of Rajasthan. The temple is devoted to Rani Sati who lived sometime between the thirteenth and the seventeenth centuries and committed sati on her husband’s death. Sati in Religious Texts Initially introduced by barbaric Aryan invaders, sati was a result of Brahmin oppression and cruelty. According to Agarwal, “the Brahmins enforced it upon the non-Brahmins in order to confiscate the properties of the non-Brahmin widows and to exterminate non-Brahmins races to establish an ethnically cleansed Brahmavarta.”9 The need to defend sati on scriptural grounds arose only in the early decades of the nineteenth century when the Christian missionaries and Hindu reformers attacked the practice to be cruel and baseless. The Hindu scriptural corpus comprises two bodies of literature, sruti (revelation, श्रुति) and smriti (tradition, स्मृति). Rig Veda does not explicitly mention anything about widow burning. In the quoted shloka (verse, श्लोक), it talks about how the widow should wear good perfume and apply creams to her body, should not grieve or cry, should be free from sorrow, and go up to the place where her husband lies. Let these unwidowed dames with noble husbands adorn themselves with fragrant balm and unguent. Decked with fair jewels, tearless, free from sorrow, first let the dames go up to where he Lieth.10

88  Prachi Priyanka In the next hymn, the widow is directed to sit facing her dead husband, after moistening her eyes with ghee, then to rise and resume her place in the world. Rise, and come unto the world of life, O woman: come, he is lifeless by whose side thou liest. Wifehood with this thy husband was thy portion, who took thy hand and wooed thee as a lover.11 There is mention of sati in the Atharva Veda as well. Choosing her husband’s world, O man, this woman lays herself down beside thy lifeless body. Preserving faithfully the ancient custom. Bestow upon her both wealth and offspring.12 In this mantra, the phrase “choosing her husband’s world” is ambiguous and has been interpreted to mean differently by different scholars. The shloka could be advice to the widow to join her dead husband in the afterlife in the next world, and hence, she must burn herself in the funeral pyre of her husband. However, the other interpretation that follows is: This woman has chosen her husband’s world earlier. Today she is sitting beside your dead body. Now bestow upon her both wealth and offspring for the rest of her life to continue her afterlife in this world. Thus, the mantra negates self-immolation and instead speaks about the continuation of worldly affairs by women in this world after her husband’s death. By the substitution of the last word of the funeral hymn from agreh (earlier. first) to agneh (fire), the forgery was commonly attributed to Raghunandana, a sixteenth-century writer of Smriti. However, noted scholar P. V. Kane dismissed the accusation as “not sustainable” and ascribed the error to a corrupt printed text or an innocent slip.13 Mahamahopadhyaya P. V. Kane, in his book “History of Dharmaśāstra” clarifies: There is no Vedic passage which can be cited as incontrovertibly referring to widow-burning as then current, nor is there any mantra which could be said to have been repeated in very ancient times at such burning nor do the ancient Gr̥ hyasūtras contain any direction prescribing the procedure of widow burning.14 The grave misinterpretation of Vedic mantras was done in the middle ages by an ignorant class of priests. The fraud related to the interpretation of Rig Veda 10.18.7 was exposed by Max Müller who condemned the act: This is perhaps the most flagrant instance of what can be done by an unscrupulous priesthood. Here have thousands of life be sacrificed, and a practical rebellion threatened on the authority of a passage which was mangled, mistranslated, and misapplied.15

Cultural Syndromes in India  89 “Daksa Smruti” describes how a woman enjoys eternal bliss in heaven if she dies alongside her husband on his funeral pyre. “Agni Purana” talks about widows who can self-restraint themselves and immolate themselves; they can enter heaven. There are references to the custom in some ancient scriptures like “Garudapurana” that mention the immolation of a widow on the funeral pyre to be performed by women of all castes, and the only exemption was offered when they were pregnant or had young children. It also mentions that if women do not perform sati, they will be reborn into the lowly body of a woman again and again till they perform sati.16 “Yajnavalkya” states that sati is the only way for a chaste widow.17 A widow who followed her husband into death “dwells in heaven for as many years as there are hairs on a human body, crores of years.”18 In “Brahma Purana,” it is said to be the “highest duty of the woman to immolate herself after her husband.”19 However, Vishnu Smriti offers a choice between leading a life of chastity or else mounts the husband’s pyre.20 The Brahmana literature and the Grihasthashramas as also the Buddhist texts made no mention of sati. There is no allusion to the custom in Kautilya’s Arthashastra, the Dharmashastras, and the Smritis. The Manusmriti, in fact, stated that women are to be regarded as “pujarha grhadiptayah” (worthy of respect, पुजारा गृहादिपत्य ) for she is the lamp that lights the household (The Laws of Manu V, 156–162; 165, 166). Manu declared: “A virtuous wife who after the death of her husband constantly remains chaste, reaches heaven, though she have no son, just like those chaste men.”21 In the Ramayana, none of the wives of King Dasratha or Ravana immolated themselves; nevertheless, references to sati may be found in the Mahabharata. Pandu’s second wife immolated herself on his pyre despite attempts of the assembled sages to deter her. However, she did not take her life because of the custom but due to regret that she was responsible for the death of her husband. The Mausalaparva mentioned two instances of widow immolations.22 In the first, four wives of Vasudeva (Devaki, Bhadra, Rohini, and Madira) ascended the pyre with him. In the second, on news of Krishna’s death reaching Hastinapur, five of his wives (Rukmini, Gandhari, Saibya, Haimavati, and Jambavati) immolated themselves in the absence of his body. As against these cases, there were innumerable instances of widows who lived after their husbands. Besides, there were poets like Banabhatta (AD 625) who strongly condemned widow immolation: This following another to death is most vain! It is a path followed by the ignorant! It is a mere freak of madness, a path of ignorance, an enterprise of recklessness, a sign of utter thoughtlessness, and a blunder of folly. If life leaves us not of itself, we must not resign it. For this leaving of life, if we examine it, is merely for our own interest, because we cannot bear our own cureless pain. To the dead man, it brings no good whatever. For it is no means of bringing him back to life, or heaping up merit, or gaining heaven for him, or saving him from hell, or seeing him again, or being reunited with him.23

90  Prachi Priyanka During the period AD 700-1100, the practice of sati became more frequent in northern India and among the royal families of Kashmir. Kalhana in his ­Rajatarangini,24 written in AD 1148–1149, referred to cases from the tenth to twelfth centuries. Clusters of memorial stones found in various places reveal that from the end of the first millennium AD, at least in some regions, immolation was no longer confined to the upper castes. Sati appeared originally to have been a Kshatriya custom, a heroic female complement to the warrior’s death in battle. Some writers also had begun to commend immolation for widows. Angira advocated concremation, “… there is no other duty but falling into the funeral pyre when the husband dies.”25 Harita, in Haritasmriti,26 contended that a woman could purify her husband of the deadliest sins if she immolated herself.27 However, Devanabhatta, the twelfth-century writer from South India, maintained that Sati pratha was “only a very inferior variety of Dharma”28 and it should not be practiced. By the late medieval period, when Raghunandana’s Smriti appeared, the practice seemed not uncommon.29 The Padmapurana explicitly prohibited it for Brahmins and stated that anyone assisting a Brahmin widow to the pyre would be guilty of the unpardonable sin of brahmahatya.30 Stridharmapaddhati, an eighteenth-century text by Tryambaka, recommended sati as a way of salvation for women. When practiced by a devoted wife, it asserted, great blessings were conferred on both the husband and wife.31 However, Tryambaka also stated that the option of leading the life of a widow was open to a woman whose husband had died.32 Sati as an Object of Horror and Fascination for the West Investigation into the origin of the custom of sati was definitely a strand of interest for Westerners. Vincent Smith was of the view that probably sati rite was brought into India by those who “may be called Scythians in a general way.” Besides, the Rajputs who practiced sati voluntarily and willingly were believed to be Scythian in origin. Another school of thought suggests that widow sacrifice had once been a universal practice, traces of which may be found in Greek, Scandinavian, Gallic, and Thracian myths and rites. ­Keeping this in perspective, sati may be seen as a rite that “belongs to a barbaric stratum which once overlay the world including India.”33 The Greeks provide us with the earliest account of sati from the Western perspective. In 316 BC, the Hindu general Keteus died in the battle between Antigonos and Eumenes. His two wives were eager to commit sati, but the elder one was not allowed to do so owing to her medical condition. While the elder one lamented her situation, the younger one walked exultantly in victory. She was escorted by her kinsfolk who chanted a song in praise of her virtue. When she came near the pyre, she took off her adornments and

Cultural Syndromes in India  91 distributed them to her families and friends, leaving a memorial for herself …Before the pyre was kindled, the whole army in battle array marched around it thrice. She meanwhile lay down beside her husband, and as the fire seized her no sound of weakness escaped her lips.34 While the Greeks felt a mix of admiration for the heroic element and condemnation for the savage element in the rite – they also had a theory that said the custom was designed to dissuade wives from poisoning their partners. Among the early travellers, Terry, the chaplain of Roe, describes the practice of sati as “a voluntary act by the wives for the sake of honor and how they believe that self-immolation frees them from a life of neglect and dishonor that awaits widowhood.”35 Ibn Battuta36 observed that sati was considered praiseworthy by the Hindus, without, however, being obligatory. He notes that “when she does not burn herself she puts on coarse clothes and lives with her relatives as one who is despised for faithfulness. But she is not compelled to burn herself.”37 It is from the sixteenth century onwards, however in the wake of E ­ uropean navigational expansion, that we find sati once more impinging on Western consciousness. In 1498, Vasco da Gama landed in Calicut, and soon after capturing Goa, one of the first acts of Afonso de Albuquerque was to abolish sati (1510). The romance was another new element added to the European experience of sati. Job Charnock, the founder of Calcutta, is said to have rescued a Brahmin widow of transcendent loveliness and lived with her for fourteen long years. Such instances when the British officials opposed the custom or fell in love with the woman and brought them home were also been reported. Gradually, the religious element entered the reaction of the Western onlookers. J. B. Tavernier, a seventeenth-century traveller, is ironic about the religion of Hindus where: … the idolators do not only burn the bodies of their dead but the bodies of the living. They scruple to kill a serpent or a louse but account it a meritorious thing to burn a living wife with the body of the deceased husband.38 Many seventeenth-century Europeans who came to India for trade and other purposes were shocked by folk illnesses like the ritual of widow burning. The travel narratives of these travellers present before us stories of first-hand experience where partially fictionalized accounts of the practice perpetuate stereotypes related to the custom and occasionally give us genuine insight into prevalent European and Indian social values. Pierre Sonnerat gave a descriptive reference to sati where Brahmans tried to showcase the sacrifice of sati by which she would achieve glory after her death. He mentions a narrative told by a Brahmin that glorifies a sati, who was not the man’s wife but was willing to sacrifice her life for him. He claimed that despite her low life

92  Prachi Priyanka on earth, she was rewarded immortality for her utmost devotion to the man. Such convincing narratives by priests and Brahmins to coax more women to commit sati would shock travellers, and Sonnerat observes how religious connotation was attached to create a divine notion to justify the act of selfimmolation. In the early Portuguese accounts of incidents of widow burning, most cases are confined to the Western regions of India. When Alexander Hamilton (1723) reports incidents of sati, it also brings out exaggerations of armchair travellers and gives a more self-conscious authentic account of the depiction of such events. The motif of “discovery” in the writings of European travellers to India along with visual depictions and illustrations of widow burning39 as a cultural syndrome gradually led to the nineteenth-century constructions of orientalism and their associated patterns of rescue and romance. The visual representations can also be read to demonstrate various distancing strategies used by the Europeans to present sati as persistently other. Through a careful comparison of woodcuts and engravings of sati and witch-burning in pamphlets and other printed works from the sixteenth through the nineteenth centuries, Banerjee shows how classical framing devices, anonymity, and erotic constructions were used by Europeans to depict their witchburning as civilized because of its distinction from the barbaric Hindu practice of sati.40 By the middle of the seventeenth century, textual records, illustrations, and pictorial representations of Sati clearly marked her iconic status in E ­ uropean narratives of India. These illustrations served two specific functions: First, images of sati were “naturalized” into formats similar to tourist guides; widow-burning, along with child brides, elephants, demonic idols, and hook swinging took its place in the lists of recognizable cultural signs of “India” to the European audience. Second, illustrations of widow-burning often constructed the rite as the definitive examples of the differences between Hinduism and Christianity by offering candid exposes of the cruelty and barbarism of the Hindu religion.41 Abraham Roger’s illustration La Porte Ouverte dwells on the inhuman cruelty of the act of widow burning that is assumed to be instigated by the ­Brahmins. The illustration focuses on the female who is thrust into the flames. Her child-like proportions aggravate the gendered cruelty and hostility of the act. An oversized demon hovers around in the picture. The illustration in Roger’s text visually underlined what many European travellers saw in the rite. Abbey Barthelemy Carre also described sati in the metaphors of hell and damnation.42 In some complex scenarios, the pioneer Baptist missionary William Ward (1769–1823) noted that “two bamboo leaves are brought over the whole, to hold down the bodies and the pile”43 not only to speed up the burning process but also to prohibit the woman to escape in desperation. In some accounts,

Cultural Syndromes in India  93

Figure 4.3  La Porte Ouverte. Illustration by Roger Abraham. Dated since 1670

the widow became both emblematic of the singular barbarity of the other culture, and simultaneously a heroic figure displaying the ultimate in wifely devotion and self-sacrifice. Both revulsion and acclamation constructed the

94  Prachi Priyanka sati as the other. Pietro Della Valle of Rome seemed particularly struck by sati’s role as the consummate model of wifely allegiance even as he struggled with the “cruel and barbarous” act. Describing a procession of a widow going to her death, Della Valle observed: Before her certain drums were sounded, whose noise she never ceased to accompany with her sad Ditties or Songs; yet with a calm and constant Countenance, without tears, evidencing more grief for her H ­ usband’s death than her own, and more desire to go to him in the other world than regret for her own departure out of this: a Custom, indeed, cruel and barbarous, but, with all, of great generosity and virtue in such Women and therefore worthy of no small praise.44 The Reverend Terry’s protracted discussion of widow burning also oscillated between admiration for the sati’s fiery devotion and Christian repugnance and horror at the “heathenish” cruelty of the act. Terry’s response to the chaste Hindu widow singing to her death: Her breathlesse Husband she takes In foulded arms this done she makes Her humble sute to’th flames to give Her quick dispatch, she cannot live Her honour dead. Her friends there come Look on, as if’t were Martyrdom; And with Content are hither led, At once to view her marriage bed.45 Furthermore, it is interesting to observe how Jean de Thevenot was horrified by the act of widow burning and yet in a strange way was also deeply convinced that women who did not accompany their husbands to the pyre were guilty of sexual misconduct. He was sceptical about the women of Delhi, a region controlled by the Mughal emperors who actively discouraged the Hindu practice of widow burning. In his account, Thevenot writes: The Women of Dehly are handsome, and the Gentiles very chaste; in so much that if the Mahometan women did not by their wantonness dishonour the rest, the Chastity of the Indians might be proposed as an example to all the Women of the East.46 Banerjee remarks that by Thevenot’s account without the benefit of Hindu sati’s public affirmation of conjugal fidelity, Muslim women, albeit veiled and secluded from the public eye, become predatory seducers of hapless, ­presumably foreign, young men.

Cultural Syndromes in India  95 Hindu Sati and Discourses of European Womanhood The sati surfaced in many uncanny discussions on the constructed models of chaste women in Europe. Juan Luis Vives’s A Very Fruitful and Pleasant Book Called the Instruction of a Christian Woman (1523), written for Mary Tudor, daughter of King Henry VIII of England and Catherine of Aragon, is a case in point. The book has been translated into several European languages and directs widows of the west to follow a path similar to Hindu widows’ ideal of chastity and self-renunciation. Vives’s text recommends stern disciplining of the female body through seclusion and fasting to “bridle it and press it down and quench the heat of youth.” When the husband was sick, Vives advised the wife to “take pain with him, and in a manner shift part of his sickness unto thy self.” The consistent persuasion of Vives almost raised a funeral pyre for the European widow who “hath lost not only the one half of her own life … but herself also to be taken from her self all together and perished.”47 The Hindu sati also was the macabre and literal embodiment of Sir Thomas Overbury’s “She is he” in A Wife48 or John Gough’s notion that a woman’s best “use” is “in the bed and in the tomb.” The Hindu wife’s extinction was further shadowed in T. E.’s grisly image of the decapitated wife: “But, alas, when she hath lost her husband, her head is cut off, her intellectual part is gone.”49 The comparison of a widow with a headless corpse is demeaning and allied to the social construct where women do not have the ability to think and be associated with intellectualism. This was the European manner of rhetorically disciplining females in their society by destroying their mental faculties just like sati’s physical extinction in Hinduism. In a nightmarish way, Thomas Gataker’s sermon A Wife Indeed talks about women as random scattered parts where she was: (…) but an eye of glasse, or a silver nose, or an ivorie tooth, or an iron hand, or a wooden leg, that occupieth the place indeed, and beareth the Name of a limbe or a member, but is not truly or properly any part of that bodie whereunto it is fastned; it is but equivocally so called.50 Just as the Hindu sati had no existence beyond her husband’s life, so is the fate of the wife in Gataker’s text, who lives as a shadow of her husband. As Newman locates how she has been reduced to “a series of prosthetic parts and the ‘bodie whereunto it is fastned’ is the husband.” Thus, the cultural assumptions constructed for a Hindu widow resonate with her European counterparts suggesting gender ideologies to be constantly shifting, unsettled, and dangerously permeable at the margins. In a Foucauldian discursive field of influences, discourses of European womanhood negotiated and jostled with discourses that defined the Hindu sati. The sati fulfilled many cultural fantasies of Europeans, who astutely positioned her as both emblematic of the singular barbarity of the other

Figure 4.4  Suttee, with Lord Hastings shown as accepting bribes to allow its continuation. Coloured aquatint by T. Rowlandson, 1815

96  Prachi Priyanka

Cultural Syndromes in India  97 culture, and simultaneously as a heroic figure displaying the ultimate in wifely devotion and self-sacrifice. Clearly, both repulsion and valorization fed into the construction of the sati as other. In many accounts, the Hindu widow became the sacred icon of domestic bliss, whose unblemished purity spoke to the travelers’ anxieties about female chastity in Europe.51 Practice of Jauhar in the Mughal Rule During the Mughal regime, the rulers tried to control the number of cases of widow burning. French travellers Dellon and Bernier observe that the Mughals used all their power to suppress the “barbarous custom,” but they did not “forbid it by a positive law, because it is a part of their policy to leave the idolatrous population ... free [to] exercise ... its religion; but the practice was checked by indirect means.”52 Akbar endeavoured to prevent forceful sati in his kingdom. His edict banning sati runs thus, “if a Hindu woman wished to be burnt with her husband, they should not be prevented; but she should not be forced against her will.”53 Jahangir not only followed in the footsteps of his father but also went further. In Tuzuk-i-jahangiri, we find on order which not only prohibited sati and infanticide but even enjoined punishment for their infraction. But as the accounts of foreign travellers refer to many sati in Jahangir’s India, it seems that the prohibition was only on paper and never strictly enforced, though however, as in the previous regime, no sati could be burnt without royal permission. Shah Jahan is even credited with prohibiting women with children from burning themselves, who were commanded to live for the education of children.54 He forbade such kinds of incidents making it difficult for people to get approval. Since sati was a custom of Hindus and any strong opposition to the religion could have led to political and social unrest, the Muslim rulers took cautious steps while imposing prior permission from the governor of the province. Despite the efforts of Mughal rulers, it was during this period that the practice of widow immolation seemed to have gained greater currency. A distortion of the rite appeared to have taken place in warlike situations. Some scholars have linked sati to jauhar (जौहर),55 the collective selfimmolation by women in times of hostilities.56 The Western population was horrified and fascinated by the discovery of such folk illnesses that became “a visible marker of Hindu religious violence.”57 Jauhar used to take place during the night and Brahmin priests chanted Vedic mantras, while the Hindu queens and their loyal subordinates, dressed in their bridal attire, would plunge themselves into the Agni Kund.58 The morning after jauhar, men would perform saka (साका).59 According to this custom, in the morning, the men would bath wearing saffron clothes, put ash from the pyre on their foreheads, wear saffron, and walk bravely to their deaths.

98  Prachi Priyanka Both Sati and jauhar were similar self-immolation rituals performed by Hindu women for their husbands. Hindu women performed a collective suicide to escape capture, slavery, and rape by barbaric hordes. To commit jauhar, special flammable rooms were built inside the forts out of lacquer and other combustible materials. The practice of jauhar has been depicted in the recent Bollywood movie  Padmaavat, which led to feminist protests on the glorification of widow burning. The movie is a cinematic adaptation of a fourteenth-century poem written by Malik Muhammad Jayasi. It tells the story of a Muslim ruler, Alauddin Khilji, who captures the neighbouring Hindu kingdom in an attempt to enslave the Hindu queen, Padmini (also known as Queen Padmavati). Instead of allowing grief to consume her when Rani hears of her husband’s defeat in the battle, the Hindu Queen chooses to act with dignity. Along with 10,000 women and children of the kingdom – who were allegedly drugged in such circumstances to deal with crisis – Rani Padmini commits jauhar as the only act to prevent the massacre or enslavement of her people. Whether the film glorifies folk illnesses like jauhar as an act of courage or not is debatable, but it certainly sheds new light on what death could mean to the widowed women: an escape from confinement and enslavement, an escape from the prisons of society, and an escape from the pressures of life. Ironically, in the last few moments of their lives, the widowed women taste liberation, freedom, and power. Abolition of Sati The British along with other European nations originally ventured into ­Bengal as traders. As they annexed Bengal and took control over the politics of the state, they slowly turned from mere spectators to active participants in the socio-political structure of India. When the 1857 mutiny questioned the very presence of the British in India, sati was used as a new element and a moral justification for Indians to submit to British Raj. It became necessary for British writers to sensationalize sati on the one hand and for British historians to monopolize the credit for having abolished it on the other. Thus, these new strands now appeared in the Western or rather the British reaction to sati.60 In their zeal to take full credit for the awakening of Hindu society and abolishment of sati, the British side-stepped the huge contribution of Raja Ram Mohan Roy in the fight against widow burning. Ram Mohan’s first tract against it, titled A Conference Between: An Advocate For and An Opponent of the Practice of Burning Widows Alive, was published in 1818 as a pamphlet in Bengali and English. This was a success and was widely circulated among the Hindu community, making way for his next pamphlet brought out in 1820, A Second Conference. His campaign to uplift the position of women

Cultural Syndromes in India  99 in Indian society had to face severe opposition from orthodox ­Hindus and the sati lobby. His Bengali journal, Sambad Kaumudi, also regularly editorialized against sati, denouncing it as barbaric and un-Hindu. Roy’s efforts brought about a new awakening among the people who were otherwise in deep slumber. He established Brahma Samaj, which demanded social reforms in India, and appealed to the British colonial administration to put an end to such practices as sati by an enactment of the law. The following year, in 1829, Ram Mohan’s 15 years of efforts to eliminate the practice of sati bore fruit when Governor-General of India, Lord William Henry Cavendish-Bentinck, consulted Roy and with his support declared sati illegal and made it punishable as a criminal offense through Regulation XVII of 4 December 1829. Thus, it is ironic when Edward Thompson recognizes Raja Ram Mohan Roy’s efforts and yet concludes “The credit is almost entirely personal, and it is Bentinck’s.” This is quoted by Harry H. Field to highlight that “not Hindu humanity but British legislation, which ended Suttee.”61 Sati in Postcolonial India Even in postcolonial India, the debate over sati continued to be a site of ideological and actual confrontation that had implications for the Hindu religion, identity, and nation. From 1973 to 1980, there had been seven reported cases of women committing sati where each of them was glorified and the site of her immolation was made into a centre of the religious cult, a place of pilgrimage.62 The British government banned widow burning in 1829, and later, the Government of Independent India banned the custom in 1956 and 1987 – yet, incidents of sati continued to be sporadically reported from various parts of India. The case of 18-year-old Ranwar in Deorala village, Sikar district, Rajasthan, triggered the 1987 legislation and is perhaps one of the most controversial cases of widow burning.63 Incidents of women immolating themselves have occurred even thereafter. On 6 August 2002, Kattubai immolated herself in Patnatamoli village of Madhya Pradesh. Another incident took place in 2006, in the village of Baniyani in the Chattarpura district. Instances have also been reported from Bundelkhand (2008), Chechar in Chhattisgarh (2008), Kuchar village in Rajasthan (2009), and Parmania village in Bihar (2014). Despite the ban on the glorification of sati, temples dedicated to satimatas continue to be a thriving example of devotees and their unflinching faith in the ritual. Discourses focus on the intersection between various colonial debates and contemporaneous Indian social and political concerns during the controversies surrounding the immolation of Roop Kanwar in 1987, Rajasthan. Roop Kanwar was an 18-year-old Rajput woman, married to Man Singh Shekhawat. She had been married for eight months when her husband died, and she took the decision to jump into the funeral pyre of her husband. The news spread like fire, and a huge audience gathered around

100  Prachi Priyanka the village to be spectators of what was described as a “voluntary act.” This incident jolted the state of Rajasthan and spurred a huge human rights campaign countrywide. Roop Kanwar was depicted as the ideal of womanhood which is also closely related to ideas of Hindu nationalism. Since the beginning, Hindu nationalists sought to establish the symbols of the nation often along the lines of a motherly figure. Pictures of Roop Kanwar holding her dead husband’s head on her lap evoked the mother image that Hindus consumed with devotion. The idea of “mother earth” that is represented as a form of devotion towards motherhood can also be read as a gendered notion of nationalist sentiment that consolidates itself on the idea that a woman is someone to be controlled and protected. To maintain her chastity, the only acceptable way for the fanatic Hindus was to burn her alive and later build temples and memorials in their respect. Hence, when the state laws criminalized the act and banned the construction of monuments at the site of the funeral, it was met with huge protests by locals and religious groups who took it as an intervention of the state in their cultural beliefs and practices. Lata Mani, author of Contentious Traditions: The Debate on Sati in Colonial India, challenges the notion of sati being a voluntary and religious act of wifely devotion. According to her, the practice was rooted in the material, social, and cultural contexts rather than the religion, and women were neither passive, not willing, nor silent participants. The earlier French travellers also echo this account of sati and blamed the tyrannical dominance of Brahmins to continue such a custom in their own interest. Lata Mani identified four types of responses to Roop Kanwar’s immolation – the “liberal” position that criticized sati as “traditional,” “religious,” “barbaric,” and as representing a failure of the project of materialization, the conservative stand that valourized sati “religious” and “traditional” status, a third stance that was critical of both approaches and the “genuinely anti-imperialist positions” taken by feminists.64 Roop Kanwar’s immolation was attributed to an alliance of religion, commerce, and patriarchy. In this difficult scenario, “the three upper castes – Brahmins, Baniyas, and Rajputs – were accused of having conspired to revive the practices in the area for their own gain.”65 Conclusion Ashis Nandy, a critic of the philosophy of modernization, condemns the inauthenticity of sati in Kaliyuga.66 However, he asserts that one must respect “the authenticity of the values that speak through the acts of sati recorded in the epics and myths.”67 Nandy cites the example of Raja Ram Mohan Roy, who was closely associated with the abolishment of sati pratha; nevertheless, he appreciated the values underpinning the mythology of sati that presumed “the superiority in the cosmos of the feminine principle over the masculine and recognized the woman’s greater loyalty, courage and firmness of spirit.”68 According to Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, sati is the epitome of the mute

Cultural Syndromes in India  101 female subaltern. She raises a valid point that whatever details of the practice one gets are from the accounts of foreign travellers and scholars or the upper caste Hindu social reformers. No written account on the narrative of sati performing widow herself is there for records. Spivak thus focused on the “profound irony” in locating a woman’s free will in self-immolation. Rajeshwari Sunder Rajan highlights the absence of any discourse on pain in the context of sati. She opines that there is a necessity to develop “both a phenomenology of pain and a politics that recognizes pain as constitutive of the subject.”69 While the ban on sati by the colonial government was seen as an act of “white men saving brown women from brown men,”70 Indian nationalists emphasized the heroism of women who wanted to die through self-­ immolation. Folk illnesses such as sati or jauhar cannot be endorsed or condoned in the modern era. However, the fact cannot be denied that there was a time when sati was a demonstration of a woman’s strength, agency, and faith, and the cultural memory of such a practice lives on as a reminder of India’s struggle for women’s liberation from the ever-present constraints of patriarchy. Notes 1 According to the Hindu Varna system, The Rajputs are next to the Brahmins. They belong to the warrior caste that may comprise various clans ranging from nobility to farmers. 2 Banabhatta. Harsha charita, Chapter 5. http://www.columbia.edu/itc/mealac/ pritchett/00litlinks/harshacharita/chapter05.htm. 3 Banabhatta. Harsha charita, Chapter 5. 4 Weinberger-Thomas: 168. 5 Memorials erected for women who committed sati. These stones are called maha-sati stones and can be found in several parts of India. 6 Dakshayani (Sanskrit: दाक्षायणी, “daughter of Daksha”) is the Hindu goddess of marital felicity and longevity, and is worshipped as an aspect of the mother goddess Shakti. 7 It is believed that the eye or earring of Sati fell at the holy city of Varanasi, on the banks of river Ganges – establishing Vishalakshi temple as a Shakti peetha. 8 Sattar, Arshia. 2017. “The Myth of Sati and Siva Is about a Married Woman’s Anger and Frustration.” May 22, 2017. https://www.thehindu.com/society/­ history-and-culture/the-myth-of-sati-and-siva-is-about-a-married-womansanger-and-frustration/article17393570.ece. 9 The Hindu religious text Manusmriti describes Brahmavarta as the region between the rivers Saraswati and Drishadwati in India.  10 इ॒मा नारी॑रविध॒वाः सु॒पत्नी॒राञ्ज॑नेन स॒र्पिषा॒ सं वि॑शन्तु ।/ अ॒न॒श्रवो॑ऽनमी॒वाः सु॒रत्ना॒ आ रो॑हन्तु॒ जन॑यो॒ योनि॒मग्रे॑ ॥ (10.18.7) Mande, Jui. 2022. “An Enquiry into the Origins of Satī- Part 1.” Mimamsa. May 16, 2022. https://bharatmimamsa.com/origin-of-sati-part-1/. 11 उदी॑र्ष्व नार्य॒भि जी॑वलो॒कं ग॒तासु॑मे॒तमुप॑ शेष॒ एहि॑ । ह॒स्त॒ग्रा॒भस्य॑ दिधि॒षोस्तवे॒दं पत्यु॑र्जनि॒त्वम॒भि सं ब॑भूथ ॥ (10.18.8) “Hymns of the Atharva Veda, by Ralph T.H. Griffith.” n.d. Atharva Veda: Book 18: Hymn 3: A Funeral Hymn, Taken Partly from the Rigveda. Accessed December 6, 2022. https://www.sacredtexts.com/hin/av/av18003.htm.

102  Prachi Priyanka 12 n.d. Atharva Veda: Book 18: Hymn 3: A Funeral Hymn, Taken Partly from the Rigveda. Accessed December 6, 2022. https://www.sacred-texts.com/hin/av/ av18003.htm. 13 Kane Vol. II Part I 1997, 634, 635. 14 Kane, Pandurang Vaman. 1975. “Vol II (1941: 625).” Essay. In History of dharmaśāstra. Poona. 15 Sharma, Arvind. Sati: Historical and Phenomenological Essays (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2001), 100. 16 Garuda Purana II. 4. 91-100, Kane 237. 17 Apasthamba I, 87. 18 Yajnavalkya Smriti LXXXVI: 167. 19 Br. P. 80.75, Sheth 103. 20 Vis Sm xxv. 14, Clay. 13. 21 The Laws of Manu V, 160. 22 Mausala Parva is the sixteenth of eighteen books of the Hindu epic Mahabharata. It revolves around the death of Krishna – 36 years after the Kurukshetra war had ended. 23 Kadambari 1896: 135–138. 24 An account of the history of Kashmir. 25 Andrea Major, ed., Sati: A Historical Anthology (New Delhi: Oxford Univ. Press, 2008), 4. 26 Harita smriti is an ancient text written by sage Harita. The book is in prose-poetry form and dwells on the various stages of human life – brahmacharin (student), grahasthya (household), vanaprastha (forest-dweller) and Sannyasa (renunciate). 27 Lingat 2004, 129. 28 Jain, Meenakshi. Sati: Evangelicals, Baptist Missionaries, and the Changing ­Colonial Discourse. New Delhi: Aryan Books International, 2016. 29 Lingat 2004: 119, 120. 30 Altekar 1978: 128. 31 Leslie 1989, 291–304. 32 Leslie 1993: 53–55. 33 Sharma, Arvind. Sati: Historical and Phenomenological Essays (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2001), 13. 34 Sharma, Arvind. Sati: Historical and Phenomenological Essays (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2001), 2. 35 Sharma, Arvind. Sati: Historical and Phenomenological Essays (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2001), 5. 36 Ibn Batuta was a medieval Muslim traveller who came to India during the reign of Mohammad bin Tughlaq. In his famous travelogue, the Rihlah, he writes about the various places and cultures he had travelled in his journey of approximately 120.000 km. 37 The Rehla – Ibn Batutta – Mahdi Hussain, 22. 38 Sharma in “Sati,” 4. 39 Banerjee 2003, 87. 40 Banerjee 2003, 76. 41 Banerjee 2003, 87. 42 Banerjee, P. Essay. In Burning Women: Widows, Witches, and Early Modern European Travelers in India (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), 90. 43 Hardgrave Jr, Robert L. “Solvyns, f(Rançois) Baltazard The Representation of Sati: Four Eighteenth Century Etchings by Baltazard Solvyns.” Oxford Art Online, 57–80. https://doi.org/10.1093/gao/9781884446054.article.t079690. 44 De Lorenzo, Giuseppe. “Pietro Della Valle’s Letters On India.” East and West 2, no. 4 (1952): 205–217. http://www.jstor.org/stable/29757969.

Cultural Syndromes in India  103 45 “European Travellers Under The Mughals (1580 – 1627).” n.d. Full Text of “European Travellers under the Mughals 1580 1627.” Accessed December 8, 2022. https://archive.org/stream/in.ernet.dli.2015.219835/2015.219835.­EuropeanTravellers_djvu.txt. 46 Qtd in Banerjee, 127. 47 Banerjee, 116. 48 Overbury writes about good women: “her chiefest virtue is a good husband, for she is he.” (200) Thus, married women have no identity beyond their spouse. 49 Banerjee, P. Essay. In Burning Women: Widows, Witches, and Early Modern European Travelers in India, 73–109 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), 117. 50 Qtd in Banerjee, 117. 51 Banerjee 2003, 117. 52 Kundra, Sakul. “Widow Immolation in Mughal India: Perceptions of French Travellers and Adventurers in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries.” Social Scientist 42, no. 9/10 (2014): 63–84. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24372977. 53 Kundra Sakull, 63–84. 54 Tavernier Travels in India, translated by V. Ball, 3 Vols., Oriental Books, New Delhi, 1889; 1977. Vol. 1, p. 176. 55 Jauhar, also pronounced as Jowhar or Juhar, was a Hindu custom that was ­popular during the wars between Hindu Rajput kings and the Muslim armies. As a part of this custom, the women and children of these Rajput kingdoms followed mass immolation in order to avoid capture, enslavement and rape by the ruthless invaders. 56 Oldenburg 1994, 163–166. 57 Banerjee 2003, 74. 58 Agni Kund or Havan Kund is the centre place in a Havan in which the fire is put and all the oblations/offerings are made. 59 Saka was a ritual that Rajput men followed after the women had committed jauhar. 60 Sharma 10. 61 Datta, Vishwa Nath. Sati: A Historical, Social and Philosophical Enquiry into the Hindu Rite of Widow Burning (London: Sangam Books, 1990), 89. 62 Haksar, 6. 63 Manushi 1987: 15–25; Seminar 1988: 342. 64 Mani 1990, 24–41. 65 Tully 1991, 223. 66 According to the Hindu cycle of yugas described in Sanskrit scriptures, there are four stages of the world namely Satya yuga, Treta yuga, Dvapara yuga and Kali yuga. Kali yuga is the present world that is associated with the demon Kali and is considered to be full of conflict, corruption and sin. Hindus believe that people move further away from God in this Dark age. 67 Nandy 1994, 138. 68 Nandy 1994, 140. 69 Rajan 1993, 302. 70 De Lorenzo, Giuseppe. “Pietro Della Valle’s Letters On India.” East and West 2, no. 4 (1952): 205–217. http://www.jstor.org/stable/29757969.

References “Hymns of the Atharva Veda, by Ralph T.H. Griffith.” n.d. Atharva Veda: Book 18: Hymn 3: A Funeral Hymn, Taken Partly from the Rigveda. Accessed December 6, 2022. https://www.sacred-texts.com/hin/av/av18003.html.

104  Prachi Priyanka “The Sati Debate in the Rajputana Agency.” Perspectives of Mutual Encounters in South Asian History 1760-1860, 2000, 79–92. https://doi.org/10.1163/ 9789047400523_008. Banerjee, P. Essay. In Burning Women: Widows, Witches, and Early Modern ­European Travelers in India, 73–109. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014. Blavatsky, H. P., De Boris Zirkoff, and Dara Eklund. Collected Writings. Madras: Theosophical Pub. House, 1950. Charles, Dellon. Relation d’un Voyage fait aux indes Orientales, 2 Vols, 292. Paris: Veuve Biest kins, 1685. Datta, Vishwa Nath. Sati: A Historical, Social and Philosophical Enquiry into the Hindu Rite of Widow Burning. London: Sangam Books, 1990. Dell, David. “The Sati Theme.” Journal of South Asian Literature 12, no. 3/4 (1977): 55–65. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40872154. European Travellers Under the Mughals (1580 – 1627). n.d. Full Text of “European Travellers under the Mughals 1580 – 1627.” Accessed December 8, 2022. https:// archive.org/stream/in.ernet.dli.2015.219835/2015.219835.European-Travellers_ djvu.txt. Francois, Bernier. Travels in the Mogul Empire AD 1656-1658, translated by Irving Brock and edited by Archibald Constable, 311. Delhi: Low Price Publications, 1934; 1994. Haksar, Nandita. “Indian Women Protest Glorification of Widow Burning.” Manushi, June 1981. Hardgrave Jr, Robert L. “Solvyns, f(Rançois) Baltazard The Representation of Sati: Four Eighteenth Century Etchings by Baltazard Solvyns.” Oxford Art Online, 57–80 (2003). https://doi.org/10.1093/gao/9781884446054.article.t079690. Hardgrove, Anne. “The Problem of Sati: Two Critical Views on Widow Burning.” Critical Asian Studies 33, no. 3 (2001): 455–458. https://doi. org/10.1080/146727101750464032. Hawley, John Stratton. Sati, the Blessing and the Curse: The Burning of Wives in India. New York: Oxford University Press, 2011. Jain, Meenakshi. Sati: Evangelicals, Baptist Missionaries, and the Changing Colonial Discourse. New Delhi: Aryan Books International, 2016. Kane, Pandurang Vaman. 1975. “Vol II (1941: 625).” Essay. In History of dharmaśāstra. Poona. Major, Andrea, ed. Sati: A Historical Anthology, 4. New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2008. Mande, Jui. 2022. “An Enquiry into the Origins of Satī- Part 1.” Mimamsa. May 16, 2022. https://bharatmimamsa.com/origin-of-sati-part-1/. Mani, Lata. 2007. Contentious Traditions: The Debate on Sati in Colonial India. Berkeley: University of California Press. Nugteren, Albertina (Tineke). “The Challenge of Chronotopicity: Female Co-­ Cremation in India Revisited in the Light of Time–Space Sensitive Ritual Criticism.” Religions 11, no. 6 (2020): 289. https://doi.org/10.3390/rel11060289. Sattar, Arshia. 2017. “The Myth of Sati and Siva Is about a Married Woman’s Anger and Frustration.” Return to Frontpage. May 22, 2017. https://www.thehindu.com/ society/history-and-culture/the-myth-of-sati-and-siva-is-about-a-married-womansanger-and-frustration/article17393570.ece. Sharma, Arvind. Sati: Historical and Phenomenological Essays. Delhi: Motilal ­Banarsidass, 2001.

Cultural Syndromes in India  105 Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty. “Can the Subaltern Speak?” In Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths and Helen Tiffin (eds.) The Post-Colonial Studies Reader, 28–37. Oxford: Routledge, Taylor and Francis Group, 1995. Sutherland, Sally J. “Suttee, Sati, and Sahagamana: An Epic Misunderstanding?” Economic and Political Weekly 29, no. 26 (1994): 1595–1605. http://www.jstor. org/stable/4401399. Tavernier. Travels in India, translated by V. Ball, 3 Vols., Oriental Books, New Delhi, 1889; 1977. Vol. 1, p. 176. Yang, Anand A. “Whose Sati? Widow Burning in Early 19th Century India.” Journal of Women’s History 1, no. 2 (1989): 8–33. https://doi.org/10.1353/jowh.2010.0003.

5 The Yakshi Syndrome in Indian Popular Culture Representation of Possessed Female Bodies in Indian Cinema Raj Sony Jalarajan and Adith K. Suresh Introduction The possession of bodies is a phenomenon associated with the emergence of various culture-bound syndromes in social, cultural, and geographical contexts all over the world. The way cultures consider spirit possession as an illness and performing rituals as therapeutic solutions makes them capable of dealing with unsettling physical, psychological, supernatural, and social conditions.1 A possessed body is often observed as something beyond what is popularly considered human and requires special attention and care in the form of folk treatments and rituals to restore the health and integrity of the possessed ones. The way these bodies are identified, categorized, and distanced is different in different cultural and social contexts; however, they all have a common approach that ultimately makes the human subject as a cultural Other. The existence of “cultural others” makes societies identifiable and visible for the anomalous expressions and deviant experiences that expose a difference in collective appearance. The yakshi (यक्षिणी in Hindi) spirit possession is such a cultural syndrome that emerges from the Indian cultural and mythological context, and it refers to how female bodies are historically imagined as cultural others who threaten the normative gender discourses that enforce binaries and stereotypes when comes to the representation of bodies. A literal translation of the yakshi is the “female ghost” who haunts men and inflicts fear and anxiety in them to make them mentally and physically weak and vulnerable. However, yakshi as a cultural text encompasses the narrative paradigms that reimagine femininity and its subversive power in multiple contexts through which a communicative discourse about the female subject unravels the unique cultural origins of a practice that brands women as neurotic and monstrous, divine, and diabolic. This chapter explores how Indian popular culture perceives the female body with subversive qualities that violate normative cultural codifications. It defines the concept of yakshi as a culturally bound syndrome that arises as a result of othering female subjects when they do not fit specific cultural outfits, and also examines the mental health dimension associated with this particular folk illness. When it is declared that a female is possessed and is a DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-8

The Yakshi Syndrome in Indian Popular Culture  107 figure of yakshi, communities tend to seek folk remedies to nullify the yakshi effect. Even though yakshi shows the “monstrous feminine” and “abject” qualities of the female ghost, she is fundamentally an embodiment of shared cultural anxiety specific to the collective historical and mythological past of a traditionally defined and religiously motivated society. It reflects the paradoxical nature of Indian traditions; the simultaneous practice of worshiping female gods and the oppression of women within a patriarchal social structure make the possessed female body a site full of contradictions. Furthermore, this chapter focuses on Malayalam cinema, one of the major South Indian regional cinemas where the yakshi as a myth and narrative is part of popular culture. It discusses the way Malayalam cinema’s regional status exploits the local mythology of yakshi stories and how they are adapted into the visual language as a means to represent the cultural syndrome of imagining possessed female bodies. The representation of the yakshi as a possessed female body reinforces a cultural and historical anomaly that constructs a cultural identity from the past where the popularization of imagined bodies disrupts the established order and creates new experiences. The Ghost, the Gothic, and Folk Illness Narratives Ghost stories have always been part of cultures and civilizations all around the world. They reflect the power of a universal narrative construct that incorporates imagination, fantasy, experience, and knowledge to make sense of the “unknown.” The human urge to define the unknown, which is often characterized as inexplicable and magical, something that instigates fear and bewilderment in the mind of the spectator, leads to the creation of new stories and explanations. Therefore, the concept of the ghost has multiple implications that provide interpretations of the ghost’s cultural meaning in different regional contexts. Out of the diverse mythological traditions that conceptualize a ghost identity, the one that has attracted the most attention in the Indian context is the figure of the female ghost, popularly known as the yakshi. Appearing in religious beliefs and local stories as an angry goddess, a protective mother figure, an avenging woman, and a romantic muse, the yakshi engenders multiple representations and interpretations where her appearance as an ethereal subject alters the mental state of those who witness her as a spectacle. People who come across the yakshi become victims as they might get possessed by her presence, which can cause extreme confusion, aphasia, hallucinations, and vertigo, making them enter into a state of delirium and horror. Early historical images of the yakshis show how they were part of a religious landscape in which they had a ritualistic significance.2 Yakshi narratives are used in performative art forms associated with local religious ritual practices and festivals.3 In Indian cinema, the yakshi has been treated as a horror subject, the main antagonistic presence that creates spectacles of fear, disgust, and terror on

108  Raj Sony Jalarajan and Adith K. Suresh screen. Yakshi stories as a subgenre in Indian horror cinema use the narrative trope of the yakshi as the “monstrous feminine” and imagine her as the manifestation of desires and fears associated with communities defined by local myths, religious superstitions, and regional fantasies. Therefore, the yakshi emerges as a cultural entity in which its form is structured around the folklorist tradition of storytelling with influences from Gothic narrative paradigms. Indian gothic style is associated with the recurring themes and aesthetics of regional practices, namely, rituals, black magic, exorcism, witchcraft, sacrifice, and occultism. Such regional practices are undoubtedly associated as well with the emergence and perpetuation of various specific culture-bound syndromes. For example, India is home to a number of culture-bound syndromes: dhat, sati, jauhar, sallekhana, koro, jhin jhinia, suudu, and gilahari syndrome, to name a few. The line that separates the idea of belief and superstition is often blurred to generate a pathological condition that violates the very basics of human rationality. The Indian adaptations of the Gothic have shown an affinity toward total appropriations of Western themes to market the “Indianized” cultural divergences.4 They exploit the normalized superstitious discourse associated with the mainstream socio-cultural experiences of the land. These are the stories of vampires, werewolves, demonic entities, possessed bodies, exorcism, and zombies. From made-up stories intended to scare children to tales of psychological horror, body horror, natural disaster, technology, serial killers, and aliens, the entertainment value of horror is fundamentally judged by the narrative’s ability to create pathological fear and tension in the human mind since fear is fundamentally one of the deepest of human emotions. In Kerala, the notion of the yakshi (യക്ഷി in Malayalam) is deeply associated with the land’s mainstream culture, which is enriched with religious perceptions and iconographies. Visualization of deity worship is one of the most reproduced cultural practices in Malayalam cinema. The Hindu, ­Christian, and Islamic systems of belief that exist in the culture offer their own narratives of the gothic and ghost, which predominantly involve a reference to “negative forces” in the form of evil spirits. Therefore, horror films show a tendency to create a gothic atmosphere to rekindle the cultural memories of religious myths and narratives. The symbolic value of collective desire for unknown forces reveals the deepest sense of affection people has for inanimate objects, especially when they signify a form of divine supernatural power. Malayalam cinema has a gothic culture which is synchronized with the cultural norms of the land of Kerala and is therefore a unifying mode of interconnecting the on- and off-screen popular imaginations. The extensive use of local myths and folklore discourses in Malayalam horror films has constructed a sense of gothic imagination of the past to format a culturally specific corpus of horror. The fear of the unknown that generates horror in these films is centered around an imaginative past and its reincarnation in new formats.

The Yakshi Syndrome in Indian Popular Culture  109 The Origins of Yakshi The yakshi has undergone a long historical and cultural metamorphosis, assimilating elements and aspects of geographical and social differences to adapt and reform herself as an entity capable of producing new meanings. The representation of the yakshi through oral tradition, temple sculptures, religious practices, puranic texts, modern literature, and visual media like films demonstrates the conceptual structuring of the figure as a visual and narrative image. In early histories, yakshis or yakshinis were the female counterpart of yakshas, the male deities who were originally benevolent entities but later metamorphosed into demonic, terrifying figures. Yakshis were initially “benign deities connected with fertility” and nature – often called ­Shalabhanjikas (യക്ഷി) – and widely worshiped religiously.5 There are many sculptures that picture yakshi as “the lady under the tree.”6 Influences from Buddhist, Jaina, and Brahmanical religious traditions later constructed the yakshi as a frightening demonic figure.7 The demonized figure of the yakshi was more pronounced in popular cultural texts like cinema, which significantly contributed to the popularization of “the divine and the diabolic” binary through the reinforcement of the monstrous image of the yakshi as opposed to the venerable Devi (देवी, goddess) figure.8 ­Yakshi’s embodiment as the diabolic feminine often “symbolizes uncontrollable kama (काम) or sexual desire.”9 The oversexualized representation of the yakshi reveals the way the female body is imagined as a means to seduce and lure men into the vicious attack of the monstrous feminine. The Devi-Yakshi divide is one of the common traditional cultural classifications that differentiates the ideal Malayalee woman from her cultural abject other. In this way, yakshi becomes an important reference point for defining and differentiating femininity through concepts of “monstrous,” “divine,” “diabolic,” and “sacred.” The category of Malayalam horror was emerged as a genre of Pretha padangal – Yakshi Padangal (ghost films), which can be translated as films that contain a “human-like” female supernatural yakshi figure. The cultural syndrome of the yakshi has been uniquely associated with the mythosphere of South Indian state Kerala. The peculiarity of the yakshi stories is about how they present the idea of a traditionally beautiful young woman appearing as a grief-stricken dead entity with a body which is desirous in both ways; as a source that simultaneously projects and accepts desire. The yakshi possesses an anthropomorphic supernatural body which disseminates mortal desires to the external world and accepts carnal gazes in return. In simple words, this is the figure of a romantic woman who has an underlying monster image she hides or demonstrates in specific circumstances. The film Bhargavi Nilayam (1964) – considered to be the first horror film in Malayalam cinema – has the earliest cinematic representations of the “haunted house romantic yakshi” prototype in its perfection. It introduced the basics of the yakshi figure; a typical Malayalee woman with unrestrained hair, lined eyes, who always wears

110  Raj Sony Jalarajan and Adith K. Suresh

Figure 5.1  An artwork depicting Yakshi as a Nature Divinity

The Yakshi Syndrome in Indian Popular Culture  111 a white saree, and wanders in forests and hallways of big houses s­inging melodious sorrow songs in a sweet voice. Instead of evoking frightening fear in the audience, she captures their attention to the romantic imagination with which female beauty is fantasized as a transparent and wandering concept, a stereotypical and contradicting conceptualization glorified by the traditionally patriarchal Kerala society. The figure of the yakshi can be related to gothic’s most favorite trope of the “monster” where “an aesthetic of pleasurable fear” can be associated.10 The concept of the “friendly Yakshi” that incorporated desires within the frames of beauty went through transformations in later stages of its evolution. In K. S. Sethumadhavan’s Yakshi (1968), the fear of the female ghost is explored with more psychological depth and logic. The film narrates the story of a young college professor’s encounter with a yakshi. When Sreenivasan, the protagonist, played by veteran actor Sathyan, is disfigured in a laboratory accident and is rejected by the woman he loved, a yakshi appears in his life and provides him comfort. The film uses elements of melodrama and entertainment to create a gothic atmosphere through which it symbolically represents the male protagonist’s fear of women whom he thinks are not attracted to his “ugly” face. Here, the narrative introduces the yakshi as a manifestation of the protagonist’s desire for women once he realizes he cannot have any in real life. The film represents the yakshi as the most beautiful female figure the male protagonist can imagine, and frames her as a haunting romantic subject with high seductive power. Sindhu Jose observes that the yakshi narratives in Malayalam cinema are about an imagined female ideal: “a yakshi on its screen is the ‘ideal other’ – the monstrous feminine; a being of imagination and fantasy. She defies the norms – of sexuality, of domesticity, of power and of the dominant aesthetics.”11 The looming presence of the yakshi haunts the male protagonist in a way which emotionally makes him vulnerable and desirous rather than terrified and fearful. The aesthetics of the friendly yakshi restores the masculine natural order by paying no attention to its impotence. Yakshi as a Cultural Monster Monsters have always been there in all cultures and civilizations. They are entities whose monstrosity is part of the collective imagination through which people, communities, and societies make sense of the strange and the familiar. Monstrosity is relative in the sense that they appeal differently to different contexts. Therefore, one key feature of the identity of monsters is how unique their image and meaning are when they are shaped in different cultural environments and social contexts. Social values, public morality, religious superstitions, and ethnic beliefs are elements that add emphasis to the imagination of the monstrous. The cultural text of the yakshi is a result of the juxtaposition of such elements, and the construction of the monstrous undergoes a phase where coordinates of reality and fantasy are

112  Raj Sony Jalarajan and Adith K. Suresh incorporated naturally or artificially to a point that clearly establishes a notion of­ unnaturalness. The unnatural effect, a sense of weirdness to which other existing cultural mores are related and distinguished, makes the monster a cultural phenomenon. Since the idea of the monster is integrated with the notion of culture, it becomes apparent that the representation and reception of the monster define a communicative discourse about how cultural expressions of an “othered identity” signify cultural values. In popular culture, this communicative discourse centralizes the image of the monster as a possibility, a medium through which one can identify with signs and performances the monstrous texts disseminate and then involve in the signifying practice of reinterpreting and adapting them. In this process, what is ultimately revealed about the monster is how they fundamentally reflect humanity and its many vulnerabilities, perversions, and fears in an essentially magnified form. In India, a popular trope is adapting cultural myths and religious iconographies into visceral images of the monster in literary and visual representations. Cinematic representations of the yakshi are modeled on existing folklore narratives and religious tales where the idea of the monster emerges from imaginations and superstitions of the land and affects the mental health of its victims. Since it rationalizes several underlying archetypes in which gods are worshiped in their monstrous identities and disposition, the identity of the yakshi is used in cinema to indicate the transformation from an ordinary human figure to a monstrous human Other, and such a transformation indicates how a possessed female body appearing as a monster figure can pose a threat to her victims and make them suffer. The process of adaptation that produces yakshi as monsters integrates several cultural narratives and texts into the constructed image of the monster. The yakshi produces notions of fear, surprise, mystery, and horror in a way that creates spectacles in which the confrontation between the strange and the familiar occurs. In the Indian diaspora, the figure of the monster is associated with tradition. Non-human entities are always referred to in epic stories, myths, folklore tales, and religious narratives. They get a special place in these discourses because of the way they are symbolic representations of the evil force, the unethical way of life, and the manifestation of material cravings. The monstrous figure was used to balance the good versus bad dichotomy in didactic narratives through which a virtuous hero becomes a cultural icon while the amoral villain becomes the cultural monster. In Hindu Vedic literature and epics like Mahabharata and Ramayana, the devas (देव) and asuras (असुर) are conceptualized as two categories of divine supernatural beings occupying the hero-antihero and god-demon equation. The devas appear as soft, intelligent, and virtuous saviors residing in heaven, while the asuras are dark, violent, and savage creatures hailing from the underground. The deva-asura war is a central theme in Hindu scriptures, and contrasting cultural values of dharma and adharma are attributed to their figures. The evolution of the deva-asura myth through various adaptations and interpretations has led to the destabilization of their dichotomous cultural reception. This is apparent when

The Yakshi Syndrome in Indian Popular Culture  113 we analyze the epic texts of Mahabharata and Ramayana where characters are not fixed on solid moral codes as they often divert from their established forms and transgress the imagined barriers that define their collective separation between the human and the non-human. There are situations when both devas and asuras show contradicting behavioral patterns that ultimately delineate the humanness of the monstrous and the monstrousness of the human. According to Jonathan Edelmann (2013), the deva-asura dichotomy in Hinduism is about the “narrative depictions of tendencies within our selves,” which symbolize contradicting motives, actions, and beliefs.12 This god-antigod conceptualization of the deva-asura binary has a spiritual interpretation that says values and virtues are the results of particular choices and actions of individuals rather than being culturally inherent. This is why asura kings such as Mahabali and Ravana are identified as deities and worshiped in temples in India. The most significant connotation of the “monstrous” in the Indian mythological context is the idea of the divine monster expressed in the figure of a god; culturally accepted, celebrated, and internalized in religious communities and the public sphere. These god figures carry a sense of distorted human identity in their being when they perpetuate themselves as supreme entities and cultural icons. The images of popular Hindu gods are defined by their ability to promulgate this non-human figuration; many of them have an image with multiple hands carrying weapons and a body that contains unimaginable power ready to erupt through palms, eyes, mouth, and temple. The benevolent gods such as Ganesha and Hanuman are highly popular in India, and their appearance as a hybrid entity with human and animal forms – Ganesha having an elephant head and Hanuman being a vanara (monkey) – centralizes the notion that the divine is something beyond the realm of the human but also relatable to humans. Another example is the Narasimha (the lion-man god), one of the ten reincarnations of Lord Vishnu, as a symbol of the in-betweenness of the monster and the human. The cultural imagination and fantasy reflected in the construction and assimilation of god monsters and demon monsters simultaneously point toward the perceived divinity in “abnormal” structures and figures, as long as they stimulate the human imagination. All such violations and transformations make the monstrous text a cultural intertext in which the cultural fear of the monstrous other is primitive, sacred, and divine at the same time. Even though yakshi can shape-shift into different versions of their personality, what is interesting here is their fundamental demonic form with which they are identified as a monster. The corporeality of yakshi is an adaptation of the human form to an expanded level where the monster is presented as superior for being different. Here, the human quality of the monstrous figure is undeniably significant because it is explicitly visible as a layer. The suggestion is that the yakshi as a monster is not exported from an outer realm but they are beings whose metamorphosis is symptomatic of the change in human appearance as they represent nothing but the very values and e­xpressions familiar to humanity.

114  Raj Sony Jalarajan and Adith K. Suresh Yakshi Possession as a Culture-Bound Syndrome The psychopathology of yakshi possession shows the behavioral patterns, cognitive biases, and community experiences which are internalized within the broad categorical notion of culture in the form of social norms, customs, and standards. A divine entity “entering” into a human body and changing its corporeal functions to make it perform like gods is part of many religions, and such transformations are supported by people from specific communities acting as spectators. The so-called divine possessions are part of Hindu religion, and their different versions are entangled with the cultural practices of different religious communities all around India. For instance, Mata Aana (माता आना) (translated as “Mother comes into the body”) refers to the spiritual possession of Devi (Goddess) – the divine manifestation of God as a mother figure (Mata). Women who get possessed by Mata in religious ceremonies start to act in a way that establishes the female human body as an enactment of a higher divine power. Unpredictable behaviors of aggression are shown by such possessed bodies in the form of dancing, screaming, head banging, and talking in different languages. These deviant behavioral changes often happen in the middle of a pooja (पूजा, religious ceremony) where devotional hymns are uttered to praise the goddess to evoke her presence in the atmosphere. The possessed bodies enter into a state of trance to exhibit erratic behavioral signs that transgress the normative behavioral functions. The audience who witnesses these performances finds them as signs of divine intervention and starts to worship these acts by praying and seeking blessings. The possessed female body is then accepted as a devi and respected within the religious community. The belief that the reactions and speeches of the possessed body are words of the goddess herself made people to strictly obey the orders and instructions expressed during the performance. Disobeying or offending a possessed body has been considered as a great sin, and its consequences were acknowledged through bad omens, epidemics, and deaths in the community. Divine possessions make communities perceive the human body as a vessel for supernatural forces to express their wills to the mortals on earth. Recognized as a culture-bound syndrome, Mata Aana shows both somatic and psychological symptoms to identify possession as a divine performative practice specific to the culturally specific religious communities in India. In all these examples, spirit possession is perceived as positive and constructive within a community that functions on the basis of imagined realities of religion. However, spirit possession is not always a positive phenomenon13 and cultural concepts associated with a particular possession make it symptomatic of a culture-bound syndrome.14 In Kerala, alternate version of such a spirit possession can be seen in other religion-based practices such as Mudiyettu, Theyyam, and Velichappadu Thullal where a possessed human body is identified as a source of divine power. The aggressive versions of the Devi identity – named as Durga, Kali, Mariamman – are culturally worshiped by

The Yakshi Syndrome in Indian Popular Culture  115 communities in South India as they are perceived as “protective mothers” who have the power to destroy enemies. The violence and aggression reflected in the Devi figure attribute a sense of naturalization to deviant behaviors in social structures. The emergence of yakshi possession as a culture-bound syndrome follows this traditional route of beliefs where a female body is subjected to spiritual possession. The nature of spirit possession associated with the notion of yakshi in Kerala operates through the evocation of fear by perceiving yakshi as an evil spirit. Therefore, when a possessed female body becomes a yakshi, she becomes a threat to the community, especially to males who view them as “monstrous feminine” figures. Possession, according to Emiko Ohnuki-Tierney, “can serve as a culturally sanctioned mechanism with a definite therapeutic function for the individuals who, either because of their personality or role constraints, cannot otherwise express themselves in the manner that is possible during a possession trance.”15 The victims of yakshi possession show behavioral deviancies similar to divine spirit possessions, but here, the possessed human body is antagonized and ostracized in the community. In divine possessions, spirits act and speak through the human body and religion provides a “culturally constituted defense.”16 Yakshi thwarts the non-pathological cultural perception of spirit possession to make the female body a site of cultural illness. The very appearance of the possessed body as a yakshi is a symptom that causes distress in culture through mass hysteria by concentrating on the possessed female body, which is capable of inflicting violence using supernatural powers. Women who are victims of yakshi possession show periodic symptoms of multiple personality disorder, often shifting between the self and different behavioral patterns of the possessed identity(ies). Yakshi often does impersonations and gender-shifting behaviors by dressing and acting like the opposite gender. They reflect a range of emotional states that define an aberration in personality and performance. This includes the possessed woman reacting in a manner that makes her body vulnerable to extreme forms of emotional expressions like frantically shouting, crying, laughing, rolling eyes, staring at a point for a long time, and changing their voice, tone, and speech to new modes. The victims often show high strength and new skills as a sign of the possession as a transition from one state to other. Physical attacks are also common symptoms of possessed female bodies. Throwing objects at people, choking, slapping and kicking them, setting fire to houses and objects, cursing people using abusive words, etc. are sometimes followed by self-mutilation by banging one’s head against the wall and making incisions on the body using sharp objects. The signs of yakshi possession refer to symptoms of serious mental health disorders that need treatment. However, the cultural specificity with which these symptoms are contextualized as part of the collective superstitions, beliefs, and myths forces communities to disregard the mental illnesses of women as spirit possession. When a woman is identified for her erratic

Figure 5.2 A figure of Yakshi from the Kshatrapa period (c. 20 BC–AD 114) in South India

The Yakshi Syndrome in Indian Popular Culture  117 behaviors, she is culturally branded as yakshi, and her actions are c­ olloquially referred to as baadha kayaral (ബാധ കയറൽ, possessed by an evil spirit). Here, yakshi possession marks itself as a culture-bound syndrome with symptoms, which when viewed under the cultural microscope masks the real victims and their authentic mental issues through a cultural angle. The pathological aspect of the yakshi possession is this masking that restricts the victims within their own cultural landscape and provides folk treatments and rituals to exorcize the possessed spirit. Here, women who suffer from mental illnesses are at the receiving end of collective speculation, humiliation, and hatred as they are vessels through which society confronts its fears, anxieties, and obsessions about the female subject. Yakshi is an identity construct that reflects how cultural narratives manipulate realities in favor of a powerful dominant group within the patriarchal social domain. The need to “tame” the yakshi is realized through ritual practices and exorcism. This includes performing pooja and aavahanam (ആവാഹനം, the ritual of summoning and capturing the yakshi through magical spells) to exorcize the possessed female body. Yakshi stories from Kerala’s Hindu and Christian traditions contain “shared religious frameworks and philosophies” in which powerful holy men appear to control the yakshi.17 They can control the power of the yakshi by overpowering her through holy mantras that help them to finally nail her to a kanjiram tree (കാഞ്ഞിരം, snake tree). Holy priests like Kadamattathu Kathanar (a renowned Christian priest from Kadamattom, Kerala) are part of the legends that celebrate the narratives of exorcizing the yakshi. Here, the whole discourse of the yakshi infuses narratives and counter-narratives about the power struggle between the ideal and the imagined, the natural and the Other, the holy and the abject, the healthy and sick through which the cultural and social conflicts of the masculine and the feminine find a medium for collision. The Abject Monster: Yakshis and Cultural Fears The symbolism of the yakshi soon became a source of frightening horror when spectacles of the monstrous feminine conquered the horror text of Malayalam cinema. This period can be considered as the golden age of Malayalam horror cinema. The film Lisa, released in 1978, introduced the “violent” yakshi as a powerful spectacle for the Malayalee cinema public. Films Kalliyankattu Neeli (1979), Meghasandesam (1982), Sree Krishna Parunth (1984), Ennu Swantham Janakikutty (1998), Aakasha Ganga (1999), and Indriyam (2000) used the monstrous narrative of the yakshi. In such films, the general approach is to frame the yakshi as a young beautiful woman with a tragic past that transforms her into a monstrous feminine. The yakshi appears in white clad, with unrestrained hair, red eyes, long fangs, and nails to terrify her victims, often stalking them using magical powers before finally killing them. Stories have represented the yakshi as a blood-sucking ghost who deceives men through disguises, tricks, and seduction. Yakshis like

118  Raj Sony Jalarajan and Adith K. Suresh Kalliyankattu Neeli are popular cultural images constructed through such fantasy narration. The yakshi narrative is region-specific where a particular yakshi identity has authority over a limited geographical space, which will become notorious for the cultural fear it creates among the people of the region. In these films, the victims of the yakshi are particularly men who become affected by the presence of yakshi, who may appear in dreams to haunt them. Yakshi defines a woman’s transformation into a monstrous feminine ghost who has just returned from the realm of the dead to take revenge on the mortals who had wronged her in the past. Accompanied by a flashback that reveals the “violation” that led to the event of her durmaranam (unnatural death), the motivation of the yakshi is purely rational and has the logic of “poetic justice.” Yakshis are wandering souls with unfulfilled desires. Although she embarks on a journey that seems catastrophic in terms of creating a spectacle of horror for other characters and the audience, her innocence is accentuated through the invocation of fate in the form of natural evil committed by men. The reincarnation of the yakshi embodies a romantic counternarrative of ideal Malayalee femininity, and its unsatisfied urges warrant a set of spectacular events that hardly satisfy the definition of pure evil. The unsatisfied body of the yakshi seeks romantic reunion and vengeful action at the same time, that is why a typical Malayalam horror film contains songs that vividly express the emotional “feelings” of the dead in the most poetic and harmonious way possible. Hence, the standard version of the Malayalam horror does not transgress its confined space of reality to portray the unreal, and its embellishment of the supernatural is merely a phantasmatic imagination of the unfulfilled desires for the ideal. The ritualistic representation of the Yakshi is a mirror image of the real, and therefore, the cinematic form itself is a “ritual as reality”, something that is dreadful and attractive at the same time when “something real” penetrates the fantasy and “the natural conceals the supernatural.”18 The ghost story of the yakshi is a story about the female response to totalizing masculine practices of oppression. These narratives reveal “the hegemonic – masculine anxieties of the cultural landscape of Kerala, just as the femme fatale, witches and vampires reveal the anxieties of a Christian West.”19 The yakshi’s ambiguous state of existence as both a living and dead body in culture demonstrates how a marginalized identity holds the power that threatens authoritative forces. Here, the monstrous yakshi is a manifestation of the male desire to demonize any female subject outside the purview of his imaginative ideal. The female subject who does not satisfy the male imagination, whether it is in terms of beauty, submissiveness, sexual expression, and domesticity, becomes a yakshi who disturbs the natural order by subverting the natural law. She revolts against the masculine urge to control the unrestrained woman by becoming the “unrestrained other.” Jose argues that: Her [Yakshi’s] monstrousness in the cultural imagination is a result of the modernizing project of gendering in Kerala. Her deviant performance in terms of unchecked passion and free movement is in contrast

Figure 5.3 A figure of Yakshi with Dwarf Hermaphrodite from the Shunga period (c. 187–78 BC) in India

120  Raj Sony Jalarajan and Adith K. Suresh with the disciplined performance of the subjugated, domestic Malayalee women of the twentieth century. With her agency and sexuality, the Yakshi stands out as an ‘other’ of this ‘ideal’ Malayalee woman.20 The construction of the yakshi myth allows the male fantasy to centralize a rebellious female figure in narratives that produce horror, fear, and symptoms of mental illness as by-products. The events of the supernatural represented in these films unleash a set of fears that are signified by the myths, rituals, religious customs, and occult practices of the land. Transgressing the Boundaries: The Liminal Figure of the Yakshi Stephen T. Asma notes that “monsters can stand as symbols of human vulnerability and crisis, and as such they play imaginative foils for thinking about our own responses to menace.”21 The repression of a traumatic past and the desire to outperform its haunting influence is what essentially signify the performative logic of cultural monsters. In the 1993 Malayalam film Manichithrathazhu, the female protagonist Ganga (Sobhana) returns from the city to her husband’s traditional home where she finds the colors of the past in an ancient tragic myth that involves the killing of Nagavalli, a classical dancer, at the hands of a feudal lord. This makes the repressed childhood traumas of Ganga come into play as she was alone growing up with her busy parents not visiting her let alone caring for or loving her. She was looked after by her grandmother who let Ganga familiarize herself with the mystical stories, myths, rituals, and regional superstitions. Ganga soon transforms into Nagavalli – the psychological transition of the self into another – and the film later reveals that she suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder. This transformation is aided by the cultural myth of Nagavalli and adopting all corresponding elements that are used in its visualization. The figure of Nagavalli is one of the greatest female monsters in Malayalam cinema. The enactment of the monstrous feminine through Nagavalli evokes the cultural myth of the Yakshi, the human-like supernatural being with the power to seduce, possess, protect, inflict harm and illness, and destroy. The possessed female body becomes a yakshi once she is capable of wandering through villages seeking moksha (मोक्ष, deliverance) through revenge. Here, the yakshi narrative focuses on the transformation of a traditionally beautiful young woman into a grief-stricken dead entity that aspires to murder victims (often male) and drinks their blood to satiate their thirst for retribution. Like many other monsters, the yakshi can shape-shift into disguises under which she hides her monstrous identity and reveals only when it is necessary. The yakshi’s cultural image represents this pleasurable fear, the type of pathological fear that lets the male spectator imagine a double identity of the woman – the seductress and the monstrous. This refers to the oppression of women by either romanticizing them as a loveable perfection of beauty and care or

The Yakshi Syndrome in Indian Popular Culture  121 vilifying them for crossing the patriarchal boundaries to express too much of themselves. This is exactly what defines the identity of Ganga – Nagavalli in Manichithrathazhu. Ganga is the ideal romantic subject who is always available to her husband, but Nagavalli is the cultural other, the disfigured version of the feminine whose violent expressions subvert the former. The yakshi emerges as a manifestation of resistance when gender stereotypes repress women in a heteronormative social structure. Since the yakshi is the embodiment of this abnormality, the figure is always kept at a distance for observation, worship, exorcism, and destruction. They are, as we have already seen, fundamentally human beings with emotional vulnerability in their cores and looking for a way out through cultural vessels. They use all sorts of cultural paraphernalia with which psychotically or sexually disturbed individuals adapt themselves to a new form for survival. Conclusion The imagination of the female ghost as a cult figure or indigenous entity is central to the construction of the yakshi narratives in India. As a cultural phenomenon, the yakshi can be seen as a manifestation of the fantasies and fears associated with Indian communities whose existence is defined by myths, religious superstitions, and ritual practices. The yakshi possession physically and psychologically affects the mental health of the possessed female body as it destroys their sense of identity and personality. It also affects the male victims who are haunted by pathological fears and anxieties about the monstrous feminine. The yakshi emerges as a cultural intertext that incorporates elements of monstrosity and divinity to produce “otherness” as a strategy of inclusion and exclusion. The anthropomorphic image of the yakshi shows how women in a cultural space have attributed the qualities of transgression and subversion. The conceptualization of yakshi as a possessed female body in popular culture reflects the ambivalence of being human and the monster, an anomalous existence that disrupts the natural order and affects the mental health of its victims. Yakshi substantiates a culturally specific monstrous feminine discourse that promulgates the possibility of resistance against totalizing gender stereotypes. Therefore, the cultural text of the yakshi historically constructs a narrative prototype of the female body that transgresses the normative boundaries of the human form to disrupt its natural order. Notes 1 Monika D. Edelstein, “Lost Tribes and Coffee Ceremonies: Zar Spirit Possession and the Ethno-religious Identity of Ethiopian Jews in Israel.” Journal of Refugee Studies 15, no. 2 (2002): 153–170. 2 Upinder Singh, “Cults and Shrines in Early Historical Mathura (c.200 bc–ad 200).” World Archaeology 36, no. 3 (2004): 378–398. 3 M. R. Vishnuprasad, “Embodiment of Pakshi Kolam: Performing the molecular human.” Performance Research 25, no. 3 (2020): 153–157.

122  Raj Sony Jalarajan and Adith K. Suresh 4 Bansari Mitra, “East Meets West: Indian Adaptations of Gothic and Swashbuckling Films Rebecca and The Prisoner of Zenda,” Asian Cinema 22, no. 1 (March 2011): 180–191. 5 Upinder Singh, “Cults and shrines in early historical Mathura,” 383. 6 Ernst Cohn-Wiener, “The Lady under the Tree,” Parnassus 11, no. 6 (1939): 24–29. 7 Gail Hinich Sutherland, Yaksha in Hinduism and Buddhism: The Disguises of the Demon. (New Delhi: Manohar, 1992). 8 Arya Aiyappan and Johnys P. Stephen, “Yakshi at the Crossroads: Gendering Horror and Trauma in Malayalam Horror-Comedies.” Quarterly Review of Film and Video, 39, no. 6 (2022): 1381. 9 Bini B. S., “The Divine and the Diabolic Feminine: Dynamics of Caste and Gender in the Narratives about the Goddesses and the Yakshi in Aithihyamala Texts.” IIS University Journal of Arts 5, no. 1 (2016): 33. 10 Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, The Coherence of Gothic Conventions. (New York: Methuen, 1986), 11. 11 Sindhu Jose, “Representation as Translation: A Reading of the Adaptations of the Yakshi Myth in Malayalam.” The English and Foreign Languages University, PhD dissertation, 2016, 84. 12 Jonathan Edelmann, “Hindu Theology as Churning the Latent,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 81, no. 2 (2013): 439–441. 13 Patrick McNamara, Spirit Possession and Exorcism: History, Psychology, and Neurobiology. (Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger, 2011). 14 Fahimeh Mianji and Yousef Semnani. “Zār Spirit Possession in Iran and A ­ frican Countries: Group Distress, Culture-Bound Syndrome or Cultural Concept of ­Distress?” Iran J Psychiatry 10, no. 4 (2015): 225–232. 15 Emiko Ohnuki-Tierney, “Shamans and Imu: Among Two Ainu Groups - Toward a Cross-Cultural Model of Interpretation.” In The Culture-Bound Syndromes: Folk Illnesses of Psychiatric and Anthropological Interest, eds. Ronald C. Simons and Charles C. Hughes, (Dordrecht, Holland: D. Reidel Publishing Company, 1985), 104, 105. 16 Melford E. Spiro, “Religious Systems as Culturally Constituted Defense ­Mechanisms.” In Context and Meaning in Cultural Anthropology, ed. Melford E. Spiro, (New York: Free Press, 1965), 107. 17 Corinne Dempsey, “Nailing Heads and Splitting Hairs: Conflict, Conversion, and the Bloodthirsty Yakṣi in South India.” Journal of the American Academy of ­Religion 73, no. 1 (March 2005): 113. 18 Parker Tyler, The Three Faces of the Film: The Art, the Dream, the Cult. (New York and London: Thomas Yoseloff, 1960), 82. 19 Sindhu Jose, “Representation as Translation,” 84. 20 Sindhu Jose, “Representation as Translation,” 4. 21 Stephen. T. Asma, “Monsters and the Moral Imagination.” In The Monster ­Theory Reader, ed. Jeffrey Andrew Weinstock, (Minneapolis: University of ­Minnesota Press, 2020), 290.

References Arya Aiyappan and Johnys P. Stephen, “Yakshi at the Crossroads: Gendering H ­ orror and Trauma in Malayalam Horror-Comedies.” Quarterly Review of Film and Video, 39, no. 6 (2022): 1381. Bini, B. S. “The Divine and the Diabolic Feminine: Dynamics of Caste and Gender in the Narratives about the Goddesses and the Yakshi in Aithihyamala Texts.” IIS University Journal of Arts 5, no. 1 (2016): 29–44.

The Yakshi Syndrome in Indian Popular Culture  123 Cohn-Wiener, Ernst. “The Lady under the Tree.” Parnassus 11, no. 6 (1939): 24–29. Dempsey, Corinne. “Nailing Heads and Splitting Hairs: Conflict, Conversion, and the Bloodthirsty Yakṣi in South India.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 73, no. 1 (March 2005): 111–132. Edelmann, Jonathan. “Hindu Theology as Churning the Latent.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 81, no. 2 (2013): 439–441. Edelstein, Monika D. “Lost Tribes and Coffee Ceremonies: Zar Spirit Possession and the Ethno-Religious Identity of Ethiopian Jews in Israel.” Journal of Refugee ­Studies 15, no. 2 (2002): 153–170. Jose, Sindhu. “Representation as Translation: A Reading of the Adaptations of the Yakshi Myth in Malayalam.” The English and Foreign Languages University, Ph.D. dissertation, 2016. McNamara, Patrick. Spirit Possession and Exorcism: History, Psychology, and ­Neurobiology. Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger, 2011. Mianji, Fahimeh and Yousef Semnani. “Zār Spirit Possession in Iran and African Countries: Group Distress, Culture-Bound Syndrome or Cultural Concept of ­Distress?” Iran J Psychiatry 10, no. 4 (2015): 225–232. Mitra, Bansari. “East Meets West: Indian Adaptations of Gothic and Swashbuckling Films Rebecca and The Prisoner of Zenda.” Asian Cinema 22, no. 1 (March 2011): 180–191. Ohnuki-Tierney, Emiko. “Shamans and Imu: Among Two Ainu Groups - Toward a Cross-Cultural Model of Interpretation.” In The Culture-Bound Syndromes: Folk Illnesses of Psychiatric and Anthropological Interest, edited by Ronald C. Simons and Charles C. Hughes, 91–110. Dordrecht, Holland: D. Reidel Publishing ­Company, 1985. Sedgwick, Eve Kosofsky. The Coherence of Gothic Conventions. New York: Methuen, 1986. Singh, Upinder. “Cults and shrines in early historical Mathura (c.200 bc-ad 200).” World Archaeology 36, no. 3 (2004): 378–398. ­ echanisms.” Spiro, Melford E. “Religious Systems as Culturally Constituted Defense M In Context and Meaning in Cultural Anthropology, edited by Melford E. Spiro, 100–113. New York: Free Press, 1965. Sutherland, Gail Hinich. Yaksha in Hinduism and Buddhism: The Disguises of the Demon. New Delhi: Manohar, 1992. Tyler, Parker. The Three Faces of the Film: The Art, the Dream, the Cult. New York and London: Thomas Yoseloff, 1960. Vishnuprasad, M. R. “Embodiment of Pakshi Kolam: Performing the Molecular Human.” Performance Research 25, no. 3 (2020): 153–157.

6 Seeking the Maternal Uncle A Study of the Culture-Bound Syndrome Known as Nihu in the Karbis Sermily Terangpi Introduction This chapter intends to present and analyze nihu as a culture-bound s­ yndrome among the Karbis. Furthermore, we will dive into exploring how this cultural syndrome has been presently recognized, shaped, and represented through various forms of popular culture within this ethnic community. Despite that nihu as a culture-bound syndrome has lingered for about ten generations, there is only one English-language academic reference on this subject in the fields of cultural psychiatry and social anthropology, with none addressing the representations of nihu in popular culture. The denouement of nihu has woven itself into the cultural fabric of the Karbi worldview, which has transpired in the forms of rituals, songs, stories, and largely into its idioms. Without engaging in the inexhaustible and inveterate debate to methodically theorize the field of popular culture, let us conceive it as “everything that is produced, used, consumed, and followed by common masses at a large scale.”1 Therefore, it accommodates practices, values, attitudes, policies, rituals, social rituals, etiquettes, texts, songs, music, and mass media among others. Likewise, the emergence, evolution, and deep roots of this culture-specific illness are intimately and extensively connected with the attitudes, psyche, customs, and way of life of the Karbi tribe. A person suffering from this cultural or folk illness is presumed to be under the spell of the maternal uncle pertaining to a curse, according to the folktale of Binong Jangreso (Binong, the orphan). This tradition of endowing respect and bestowing obeisance is customary, as doing otherwise would invite a curse. Dharamsing Teron’s exploration of nihu in the chapter “Nihu Kachiri: A ‘Culture-Specific Syndrome’ Among Karbis” is remarkably the first and only methodical study on this cultural illness. The sparsity of tangible information about nihu is due to a lack of consistent ethnographical and anthropological research and additionally, as well as the relative seclusion of the community. It has been identified that irrespective of geographical location, the nihu syndrome has been widely found only among infants and young teenagers, and no conclusive explanation is readily available. DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-9

A Study of the Culture-Bound Syndrome Known as Nihu in the Karbis  125 Nevertheless, the vital question of how and why nihu emerged within the Karbi community remains unapprehended. Furthermore, there has been no clinical research or study to examine the implications of nihu, suggesting the gap between Karbi culture and modern medicine. Culture-bound syndromes such as koro, amok, and latah have been described in detail in the international classificatory systems. However, the nihu syndrome is yet to find its place within such systems, and this present academic study aims to address this issue and bridge the gap. The Karbi Tribe: Historical and Cultural Overview The Karbis are one of the principal ethnic tribes residing in the Northeast part of India. Mainly, they are concentrated in the state of Assam, specifically in the twin districts of East Karbi Anglong and West Karbi Anglong and scattered in some pockets in Arunachal Pradesh and Meghalaya states. Racially, the Karbi tribe belongs to the Mongoloid Group, and linguistically, they are placed under the Tibeto-Burman group. As Phangcho has noted: The original home of the various people speaking Tibeto-Burman languages was in western China near the Yang-Tse-Kiang and the ­ Hwang-ho rivers and from these places they went down the courses of the Brahmaputra, the Chindwin and the Irrawaddy and entered Burma and then to India. The Karbis, along with other groups entered Assam from Central Asia in one of the waves of migrations. During the reign of the Kachari kings, they were driven to the hills and some of them entered into Jaintia hills, the erstwhile Jaintia kingdom and lived under the Jaintia suzerainty.2 Considering the paucity of written records, it becomes challenging to ascertain the history of the Karbi’s early settlement in Northeast India. Consequently, folk songs and folk tales, which are a significant part of the oral tradition, become essential sources of history. However, it has been perceived that such songs and tales were presumably composed and contrived after they settled in Assam. According to the folklore of the tribe, it is believed that the Karbis have flourished along the banks of the mighty Kopili and Kalang rivers and in the entire area of Kaziranga, where the Kaziranga National Park is now located.3 The Karbi tribe comprises five dominant clans called “Kur” and sub-clans: Ingti (six sub-clans), Terang (fifteen sub-clans), Inghi (thirty sub-clans), Teron (nine sub-clans), and Timung (thirty sub-clans). These clans are stringently exogamous, meaning marrying within the clan is strictly forbidden. Moreover, the transgression of this customary law antedates to the ex-communication of the wedded pair. Presently, the five clans share equal social status, and there is no class division among the tribe.

126  Sermily Terangpi

Figure 6.1  An elderly Karbi woman

Predominantly, the Karbis adhere to an animistic religious belief system, and it is important to acknowledge the “Hemphu-Mukrang duo that dominates the Karbi pantheon.”4 The Karbis venerate Hemphu as the creator

A Study of the Culture-Bound Syndrome Known as Nihu in the Karbis  127 and Mukrang his associate, and those who follow the traditional practices aspire to be addressed as “Hemphu-Mukrang Aso” meaning “son of Hemphu-Mukrang.” Strikingly, the Myth of “Hemphu Keplang” or “origin of Hemphu,” a creation myth of this God, chronicles that long ago on the bank of Kuleng river, Hemphu with his sister Rasinja appeared before two brothers, Long-Mukrang and Rang-Mukrang, and were welcomed into the village. Hemphu kept his identity concealed and introduced the Karbis to new worship customs. Along with worshipping numerous territorial deities, ancestor worship is widely practiced, and Hi-i and Arnam (demon and deity) are inextricably revered. The locution of Hi-i-Arnam is rooted in the Karbi’s ancestors’ belief in the fundamental balance between negative and positive forces in the universe. The Karbis possess a distinct set of taboos, forbidden credos, and uphold totemic beliefs. Within the society, the “kertang” or “aker,” meaning “prohibited,” or “forbidden,” must be faultlessly observed. Violating these prohibitions is considered inviting a misfortune that could be calamitous and tragic. In this regard, researchers Timung and Singh have pointed out: The Karbis revere different plants and animals as their totemic objects. Besides, there are numbers of totemic beliefs of the Karbi, such as killing of tigers, elephants and other cats’ family is a taboo for those Karbi who worshipped the spirits of those animals, and such worship is known as ‘Nibot karon-Sonpi Sonbon’ (worship or propitiation to the spirits of tigers, elephants, and other animals).5 Within the tribe, the worshippers of Killing God are forbidden to harm any of the cats’ families. The Karbis performing the ritual of “Dor” are prohibited from harming snakes. The Teron clan considers a particular snake known as “Rui-Teron” sacred, and the Tokbi clan venerates the eagles. Strikingly, a Karbi priest or diviner strictly avoids consuming banana blossom and cold or left-over rice of the previous day. It is considered taboo to cultivate the white gourd within the bounds of a priest’s house. The Karbis possess a vast richness and vibrant folklore that is orally transmitted, in the form of myths, legends, folktales, folksongs, riddles, and proverbs. Well-known myths include Thireng-Vangreng which attributes a Karbi law-giver with the supernatural ability to access the realm of both the living and the dead. Likewise, the popular myth of Rangsina Sarpo validates that Rangsina Sarpo plays a crucial role in imparting music, art, and culture to the Karbi ancestors. The legends of Thong-Nokbe, Waisong, Rongpharpi Rongbe, and Sot Recho are notable. Thong Nokbe is a legendary Karbi warrior, Waisong is another Karbi warrior celebrated for numerous battles, and Rongpharpi Rong-be has a special mention in Karbi history for her valor, courage, and leadership in retaliating against Dimasa King’s soldiers when they attempted to forcibly procure her milk for the king’s tiger cubs. According to the legend, she refused to obey the order, bravely defending herself by hacking the soldiers to death, and then she led the Karbis to another safe refuge.

Figure 6.2  A Karbi youth beating a drum

A Study of the Culture-Bound Syndrome Known as Nihu in the Karbis  129 Finally, Sot Recho, also known as The Pure King, was a monarch remembered for his wise rule. Numerous notable folk songs are rendered by the Karbis during various occasions of birth, death, purification, marriage, work, and others. The creation songs called Keplang Alun have a deep socio-cultural significance; the wailing songs, known as Kecharhe Alun, are usually sung by female dirge singers during mourning; the marriage songs, referred to as Thelu Alun or Adam Asar Alun, are considered essential during a marriage ceremony; the lullabies, known as Oso Kebai Alun, are sung to soothe babies; and the love songs, called Lumpharo Alun, are popular among the youths. The Karbis celebrate a wide array of vibrant festivals and perform rituals all through the year, most of which are seasonal and hold distinct implications on society. Some of the major ones are Chojun, Hacha-Kekan, ­Rongker, Peng Karkli, and Chomangkan, all of which have a socio-religious nature. The Chojun ritual is performed once every few years to seek blessings for the prosperity of the household from various deities. Hacha-Kekan is a traditional harvesting festival, and the Karbis celebrate the “Sok Keroi” occasion (bringing of the paddy) during this festival. Rongker is celebrated to venerate the guardian spirits of a village and may take place once in every five or ten years or can be celebrated annually, depending on the nature of Rongker. The Karbi belief holds that every space, village, territory, or region has its spirits or deities with the power to control diseases and natural calamities. Territorial deities are mostly propitiated during the Rongker festivals, and these deities have regional variations.6 Peng Karkli is an annual ritual where the household deity “Peng” is invoked for good fortune and continued blessings. Chomkan is a funeral ceremony rooted in the belief that the soul can possibly reach the abode of the ancestors (Chom A-rong) only after the ceremony of Chomkan is performed. Nihu as a Culture-Bound Syndrome Nihu (maternal uncle) or nihu kachiri, meaning “longing for or seeking the maternal uncle,”7 is a culture-bound syndrome that particularly besets children and adolescents of both genders. The nihu syndrome may be characterized by an array of somatic experiences and behavioral manifestations, embodying identical features across multiple countries while also displaying locally distinguished attributes. Affected individuals may exhibit varying degrees of physical and psychotic-like symptoms, with one or more of these symptoms being present. One of the most commonly observed symptoms among nihu-stricken individuals is attentiondeficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), which is characterized by impulsivity, hyperactivity, inattention, daydreaming, confusion, and impatience. Furthermore, complimentary to ADHD, it is widely found that body-focused repetitive behaviours (BFRBs), such as a strong desire to pull, bite, and pick, which may be damaging to the body, are also found among nihu-afflicted persons. It is widely acknowledged and accepted that a culture-bound syndrome is shaped and extensively perpetuated by culture-specific psychological factors that are influenced by doctrines, attitudes, beliefs, and values.

130  Sermily Terangpi A deviance from the culturally accepted norms in behavior might be interpreted as a sign of a folk illness. The Karbis are no exception to this phenomenon, as will be demonstrated in the following sections of this study. Symptoms of Nihu Nihu comprises disparate “aberrant” behavior exhibited by the affected individuals, and these behaviors may subsume one or more symptoms.  1. Onychophagia (ari achimi chekormir). One of the most common abnormalities is biting or eating of the nails. According to the International Classification of Diseases and Health-Related Problems – 10th ­Revision (ICD-10), “nail-biting is classified as other specified behavioural and emotional disorders with onset usually occurring in childhood and adolescence.”8  2. Mucophagy (anap kachecho). Repeatedly eating the mucus from the nose is another frequently encountered symptoms. Mucophagy is believed to be a subgroup of pica (a disorder in which an individual only craves non-food items such as toilet tissues, sand, soap, rocks, and mucus). Those experiencing such peculiar symptoms may engage in this disagreeable behavior either in private or in public contexts.9   3. Sickly and anemic (lok-hu lokphelp). A person so afflicted by nihu syndrome is always sickly and anemic, and even after providing medical treatment, one’s health does not improve. If the person appears weak and possesses pale skin color, they may exhibit signs of nihu syndrome.  4. Rectal-prolapse (ami angpong jang-er). A nihu-stricken person may also suffer from rectal-prolapse. In an article featured in the Journal of ­Gastronomical Surgery, this symptom is defined as follows: Rectal prolapse is a full-thickness protrusion of the rectum through the anus. The evolution of a rectal prolapse begins with an (internal) intussusception that can only be seen on defecography, followed by external mucosal prolapse only, and eventually a full thickness rectal prolapse.10   5. Parental alienation syndrome (PAS) (api-apo chelangselet). This symptom involves the victim harboring intense hatred toward their parents without any reasonable cause. In many cases of nihu, the afflicted person demonstrates extreme loathing against their parents, yet there is no justifiable explanation within the cultural framework of the Karbis. Gardner’s theoretical considerations are relevant within this chapter in relation to the PAS experienced by nihu’s victim: Parental Alienation Syndrome (PAS) could be a result of physical or emotional abuse, neglect, or in the case of the argument in this study, because of overt behaviours displayed by the alienating parent that attempt to undermine the target parent.11

A Study of the Culture-Bound Syndrome Known as Nihu in the Karbis  131   6. Pica (pe kor mir/ano ahi kachecho). One of the most prevalent signs of nihu syndrome is pica, an eating disorder. Stiegler’s definition reflects the particularities of this symptom within the Karbi tribe: Pica is defined as the compulsive, recurrent consumption of nonnutritive items. Pica behavior often occurs in individuals with developmental disabilities; therefore, education and clinical professionals may be required to participate in various aspects of management, including identification, assessment, and treatment.12 Moreover, it is worth mentioning that a person severely afflicted by nihu syndrome is found to be compulsively eating or putting non-food items into their mouth. Particularly, “chewing of cloth pieces” or “pe kor mir” and “eating of the ear wax” or “ano ahi kachecho” are some of the most frequent signs of nihu. 7. Nocturnal enuresis (ape-ari chephi-ing varet) and encopresis (ape-ari chepatoradet). A person severely mortified by this illness urinates and defecates on the bed, even during adolescence. In severe cases of nihu, the sufferer urinates and defecates in any unspecified place. Caldwell and Deshpande provide a common definition:

Nocturnal enuresis is intermittent involuntary voiding during sleep in the absence of physical disease in a child aged 5 years or more. A minimum of one episode a month for at least three months is required for the diagnosis to be made.13

Furthermore, Bellman has also defined encopresis as, “the repeated voluntary or involuntary passage of normal stools into inappropriate places, such as into clothes or onto the floor after the age of four years without any organic cause,” as cited by Vuletic.14   8. Shamelessness (therak thekthedet). The behavior of person affected by nihu syndrome is specifically characterized by an apparent loss of shame and a tendency to conduct oneself improperly. American Psychological Association (APA) Dictionary of Psychology defined shamelessness as a “behaviour marked by an apparent absence of feelings of shame. This may arise as the result of psychological problems or reflect a loss of judgment after brain injury.”15   9. Violent and aggressive behavior (kachejokji matha-e). A person afflicted by nihu displays violent and aggressive behavior and is more likely to manifest sudden episodes of anger. Within the field of psychology, it is an acknowledged fact that “some person with severe mental illness (SMI) engage in violence toward others.”16 Therefore, another sign announcing the emergence of this cultural illness is when a person displays extreme hostility and is prone to harming other people without any reasonable explanation. 10. Emotional disturbances (athe-aveve ta ingnek/ chiru varet). One of the most common symptoms found in a nihu-stricken person is the display

132  Sermily Terangpi of bizarre or odd behavior. As a theoretical backup, it is useful to refer to the description provided by Ahmed and Simmons, according to which: Pseudobulbar affect (PBA) is characterized by uncontrolled crying or laughing which may be disproportionate or inappropriate to the social context. Thus, there is a disparity between the patient’s emotional expression and his or her emotional experience.17 11.

12.

13.

14.

Much like PBA, which is distinguished by sudden episodes of emotional expression, the victim of nihu may also exhibit sudden emotional outbursts involving uncontrollable crying or inexplicable laughter. Absent-mindedness (Bokuliti). This is another common sign of nihu syndrome. The nihu-stricken individual remains aloof, distracted, and struggles to concentrate. Such a person is often unaware of their surroundings. Nudity or wearing no clothes (pe-ri en-e). One of the most severe forms of nihu includes nudity; the afflicted person, irrespective of age or even after reaching the age of puberty, for some unknown reasons, does not adorn any attire. A person exhibiting this symptom requires directions for immediate folk treatment, such as performing the nihu kachiri rituals. Urinating/defecating on the rice plate (an kecho akasu along ke-i/ke-phiing). This represents one of the most extreme signs of nihu syndrome. Exhibiting this behavior calls for urgent treatment of the afflicted person to prevent their condition from deteriorating or becoming irreversible. Incurable by treatment or medicine (se langta meme). If, after rigorous medical treatment, a person does not show any signs of improvement, they are considered to be agonized by this cultural illness.

The Healing Rituals of Nihu Kachiri The distinctive and complex healing rituals of nihu kachiri are perceived as an unfailing procedure meant to combat the austerity of the illness. ­Considering that this illness is intimately intertwined in all respects of Karbi’s popular culture, the specific rituals of healing nihu kachiri are conclusively dedicated to healing through socio-religious rites. The treatment of nihu is deeply rooted in the tribe’s folk medicine; thus, it is characterized by an ethno-culture approach, which involves elaborating and conducting rituals performed by a diviner. When an individual is mortified by any of the mentioned conditions or symptoms, a diviner (sang kelang abang) is summoned to identify the cause of the “illness” or “abnormalities.” Elaborate rituals are performed to ascertain whether the “person so afflicted is under the spell of the spirit or ‘devil’ (a-hi-i) of the maternal uncle (ong or nihu)”.18 The diviner, on identifying the source of the ailment, propounds that the afflicted person is “seeking or longing for a mother’s brother,” and further indicates “which particular brother of the mother is ‘sought’ by the afflicted person.”19 Then, the chosen maternal uncle along with the diviner and other important people required for performing the rituals begins the ritual on a chosen day.

A Study of the Culture-Bound Syndrome Known as Nihu in the Karbis  133 Appropriate arrangements are made to perform the rites, as the ritual entirely depends on the severity of the ailment of the afflicted person. The most important healing ritual comprises three steps, which can be treated as distinctive and specific rituals. The first and most significant step involves the “sought” maternal uncle feeding the afflicted person with cooked rice ball (an-dum). It is obligatorily to feed five cooked rice balls to a female and six to a male. Feeding the rice balls may be repeated until the illness subsides, and improvement is noticed. Furthermore, once the cooked rice ball is consumed without any objection, the treatment is consequently considered fruitful and other rituals are meticulously performed. The next part of the ceremony involves the parents of the afflicted person bestowing obeisance to the maternal uncle by offering Karbi traditional rice liquor in a traditional container known as “bongchin,” followed by other gifts to pay their respect to the nihu or maternal uncle. The completion of this ceremony is followed by the second ritual known as “arnan kehang” (arnan = ring, Kehang = to seek). To accurately perform this ritual, the parents of the ailing person are required to spend the night at the maternal uncle’s house. In this context, it is relevant to mention Teron’s description of the step, as it is highly relevant: The ritual of ‘seeking of ring’ from the nihu is performed for the afflicted person where fist-full (che-kip) of rice, six for male and five for female, dried fish (toman), a little salt (ingti), nine strands of raw threads (to hold the ring around the afflicted person’s neck) – all these items are kept in a banana leaf placed vertically and offered to the ‘nihu.’ Then a ritual prayer ‘horbong arnam kepu’ (hor = distilled rice liquor, bong = bottle, arnam = god, kepu = chant/vocalize) is performed.20 In most cases, it is believed that after successfully completing the first two steps, the “abnormalities” abate. Alternatively, in any case, if the illness persists thereupon, the maternal uncle would be approached again to effectuate subsequent rituals. The third step is the ritual of “vo-kartap,” and for this ceremony to be conducted, a sacrificial “vo” (fowl) is required. To solemnize this ritual, the afflicted person must visit the “nihu” or maternal uncle, accompanied by her/his parents. The maternal uncle would be again paid obeisance with traditional rice beer accompanied by a “banta” (betel nut and betel leaves wrapped in a banana leaf). Teron continues by providing a detailed insight of the ceremony: A ‘karkli abang’ or priest is called for a ritual sacrifice of a fowl near the fireplace of the interior of the house. A turban (poho) is placed around the forehead of the afflicted person, and over it a banana leaf (loso) is placed again. The poho and the loso are removed from the person’s head and placed on the ground. Powdered rice soaked in water is sprayed over the loso on top of the poho. After this ritual, the poho is

134  Sermily Terangpi placed again on the head of the afflicted person. The fowl is then sacrificed over the poho on the head of the person. However, in the present times, this practice has lost its prominence considering the petrifying spectacle it induces, thereby, the fowl is alternatively sacrificed on the poho which is placed on the ground.21 The legend of Binong Jangreso (Binong, the orphan) is chanted simultaneously as this ritual is performed. For the prosperity and healthfulness of the nihu–stricken person, blessings from the Gods would be sought during the Vo Kartap ritual, which is essentially performed specifically during severe cases of nihu syndrome, and it is the last stage of the healing process. Nevertheless, despite successfully completing all the rituals involved, if the illness persists, it is considered incurable. Hence, it is conceived that the afflicted person has completely and irreversibly turned “mad” or “ingcham.” Therefore, the prodigious rituals of nihu kachiri significantly reflect the panoramic self-perception of the community’s worldview and history. Thus, the folk treatment of nihu syndrome as transacted by the Karbis remains central to their socio-cultural precepts. Likewise, in Bhattacharjee’s study of traditional Karbi healing through chants known as ‘Kapherem,” the scholar highlighted that the Karbis’ response to illness and their specific healing treatment are influenced by their indigenous expertise. Every culture, irrespective of its simplicity and complexity, has its own beliefs and practices concerning diseases. No culture works in a meaningless fashion in its treatment of diseases. Every culture evolves its own system of medicine in order to treat diseases in its own way. This treatment of disease varies from group to group.22 As a conclusion, when a person is agonized by nihu, the Karbis undividedly seek the traditional healing of nihu kachiri, the only ritual presumed to be culturally appropriate for the successful treatment of the afflicted person. The Thirty Kinds of Madness “Madness” in Karbi’s worldview may not necessarily align with the understanding of madness in another indigenous group or may oppose psychiatry. The understanding of madness within the Karbi community is considerably influenced by the famous old saying “ingcham son thomkep” or “thirty kinds of madness.” The origin of this saying remains unverified; yet, this well-known Karbi adage validates the prevalence of the abounding kinds of madness in human life. The madness stemming from nihu is not perceived with hatred or disgust, and individuals afflicted by it are not stigmatized, as is the case with most Karbis. Instead, it is seen as a condition for which cure is imperatively sought through the elaborate ritual known as nihu kachiri. If when a person’s illness is detected at the initial stage, efforts are made to prevent from further deterioration. On identifying specific abnormal

A Study of the Culture-Bound Syndrome Known as Nihu in the Karbis  135 behavior, appropriate stages of nihu kachiri ritual are performed depending on the severity of the afflicted person. Nevertheless, the sought nihu or maternal uncle is approached and the thetic ritual is effectuated to prevent the person from further becoming mentally ill. It is important to note that each case of nihu kachiri varies from person to person and no two afflicted individuals are alike. Referring to Karbi’s perspective on madness, the community predominantly reacts to the afflicted person with empathy. In fact, in old times, these behavioural abnormalities were not considered by any means an illness because it was then popularly believed that such abnormalities could be cured through specific rituals. Hence, most Karbis perceive nihu as a treatable mental and physical disorder. Despite the prevalence of the nihu symptoms among Karbis, the mainspring of this illness remains unverifiable. The r­ epresentation of nihu kachiri in most genres of Karbi popular culture has further facilitated an in-depth examination of the illness through the lenses of culturally established dogmas. Nihu in Karbi’s Popular Culture and Folklore Popular culture of the Karbis is inherently a product of their everyday life. This culture is studied nowadays across diverse academic fields, attracting scholars and academics to delve into it while employing new and complex theoretical frameworks. Popular culture serves as a channel through which people attributes their perception of the world around them. Nevertheless, it becomes inadvertent that oral, visual, and cultural representations of a culture-bound syndrome in popular culture are susceptible to distortion and misstatement. Hence, societal and cultural agencies emphatically impact the articulation of  nihu  kachiri  in popular culture, expressed through songs, legends, stories, and rituals. Being a close-knit community, the history, cultural customs, rituals, folk stories, and doctrines are transmitted and transferred to the next generation through oral tradition; thus, the dissemination of nihu kachiri among the members of the Karbi tribe is extensively rendered orally as well. Finally, to completely grasp the social-cultural construction of nihu as a culture-bound syndrome, it is imperative to closely examine the shared system of beliefs and the collective perception of the Karbis regarding mental illness and particularly the concept of “madness.” The Legend of Binong Jangreso (Binong, the Orphan) The tale of Binong, the orphan, holds a universal place in every Karbi household and is transmitted through word of mouth. Folktales, legends, myths, songs, and stories are unequivocally connected to popular culture. In this context, popular culture serves as a unifying force, binding the community through as shared religious and cultural narratives. A popular folk belief prevalent among the Karbi community is that the emergence of nihu kachiri is rooted in the tragic tale of an orphan boy named Binong Dera, who belonged to the Timung clan. Being the youngest and only

136  Sermily Terangpi male in the household, he suffered countless hardships meted out by his five sisters: Kajir, Kanong, Kathong, Kadom, and Kave. According to legends, the eldest sister Kajir was the most wicked and subjected Binong to adorning female clothes. However, when Kajir forced him to put on a duk (a tattoo worn only by women, drawn vertically on the face, from the forehead to the chin), this ill-treatment became unendurable for Binong. Seeking an opportunity, he escaped into the farthest part of the forest and took refuge under a cotton tree. According to one version of the legend, Binong has earned the name Binong Vopo (Binong, the hen-man) because he reared a hen that would go to the nearby village to peck grains and collect them in its throat. In this way, it provided his master with seeds for cultivation. In this part of the legend, a poor mother and daughter, in pursuit of tubers and wild roots near the vicinity of Binong’s hut, could not return home and looked around for a suitable place to take rest as it soon became dark and it began to rain. They spotted a hemtap (stilt house) and advanced toward it hoping to seek solace for the night. As they approached the hemtap, they called out for help, but Binong did not respond as he was unclad. The incessant call of the mother and daughter made the unwilling Binong to reveal his identity and plight. As advised by the mother, the daughter removed her jiso (a cloth used to wrap the upper part of the body) and covered her bosom with her pini (wrapper/skirt), while Binong wrapped the jiso around his waist. Binong welcomed the two inside his house and provided them with food and shelter. Pertaining to the kindness and empathy shown toward him, Binong asked for the daughter’s hand for marriage. Soon, he was wedded and Binong worked hard and prospered, amassing wealth in the form of gold and silver. To celebrate their newfound prosperity, Binong and his wife organized a grand feast one fine day, where even his sisters were invited. The sisters were to bring traditional rice liquor (hor) in a traditional basket (hak) to show their respect toward their only brother. Stricken with poverty, the sisters filled their basket with twigs and bamboo roots instead of gifts and hor. Among the five sisters, only Kanong brought a reasonable horhak (hor and hak), but Binong received all his sisters with equal love. During the meal, they were served the best meat portion, but the sisters were too embarrassed to eat it. Instead, they dropped the pieces down through the wobbly bamboo floor. The following morning, the sisters left and Binong bade farewell to his sisters and brothers-in-law. At that moment, Binong strictly warned them to march ahead without looking back. However, temptation got the better of Kanong and her husband, and they could not resist the urge to explore more of her brother’s prosperity. Defying Binong’s warning, they climbed a tree to glance at her brother’s house. To their astonishment, they saw the courtyard of Binong’s hut sparkling with silver and gold so brightly that it blinded the couple, This resulted in their death due to the fall from the tree. Fascinatingly, it is believed that Kanong and her husband’s spirits transformed into “keilo” birds (no proper identification has been made but believed to belong to the Barbet family), and soon, the birds cried out “keilo… keilo… keilo… The male bird cried out ‘nangjok-ajoinelo’ (only because of you) while the female repented ‘thek-keilo’ (sorry/not done intentionally). From the words

A Study of the Culture-Bound Syndrome Known as Nihu in the Karbis  137 ‘thek-keilo,’ the birds were named ‘kielo’.23 As Kanong disregarded her brother’s warning, Binong felt insulted and took it as a defiance. He then cursed that all the five Karbi clans must pay obeisance to the mother’s brother or suffer from nihu kachiri. The popular tale of Binong, the orphan, serves as contextual data on the cultural illness or folk illness. The legend that emanated out of nihu is so deeply entrenched into the cultural belief of the Karbis, so much so that when a person is believed to be afflicted by this illness, any Karbi, irrespective of religion, fundamentally considers to carry out the requisite rituals. As orality is predominantly practiced within this community, there is more than one version of the story. Nihu in Songs These folksongs, known by various names, including “Nihu Keplang Alun” or “Binong Jangreso Alun” (The song of Binong, the orphan), hold significant ritualistic importance. The priest or any aged Karbi elder recounts the tale of Binong Jangreso (Binong, the orphan) in Binong ­Jangreso Alun or Song of Binong, the orphan, during the nihu kachiri rituals. The prolonged vocalized verbose chronologically recapitulates the saga of Binong, the orphan. This ceremonial singing may be chanted in a group or performed solo. The intonation of the song is considered requisite for the fruitful transaction of the nihu kachiri rituals. This popular culture genre validates the acknowledged relationship of transmitting the narrative quintessence of nihu kachiri within the Karbi community. Thus true, we Karbis have this custom, Long ago when the earth was young, Yearning for maternal uncle, yearning for Nihu The story persists thereby, during the time of Binong the orphan and Kave Chichiso.24 Through the song, the crooner recounts the ordeal from the curse of nihu kachiri and the consequential tenet of rendering utmost respect to the nihu or maternal uncle. The nihu ritual songs are considerably lengthy, and most singers take the liberty to improvise to correspond to the inevitability of the situation. Although rhythmic, the ritualistic song has a tonality resembling chants or incantations, given that it should be harmonized with the pacing of the rituals. The crooner assumes a variety of roles: he begins as a storyteller by chronicling the story of Binong Jangreso, then as the parents of the afflicted person, enunciating the problem, and finally, he speaks on behalf of the nihu – stricken individual – as quoted in the following lines: My female child, the year-long illness is not cured You are my legitimate uncle, Thereby, I pay my respect, my child my precious one, let your illness be cured.25

138  Sermily Terangpi Therefore, the nihu syndrome, as represented by this folk song, becomes a narrative that embodies the ethos and attitudes of the Karbi community. As such, the role of the song within the ritual is to emphasize the mythological content and traditional mindset concerning the occurrence of this cultural illness.

Figure 6.3  Karbi girls playing tug of war during a festival

A Study of the Culture-Bound Syndrome Known as Nihu in the Karbis  139 Nihu’s Representation in Contemporary Media The phenomenon of nihu kachiri has yet to be extensively explored in mass media, regardless of its embeddedness in everyday Karbi life. The cultural construction of nihu kachiri is brilliantly portrayed in the short movie Nihu, and it heavily draws from the already established traditional beliefs and customs of the Karbis. In the movie, a young girl Malin is stricken by nihu and exhibits abnormal behaviors, many of which are common among nihu-afflicted persons. The production not only reveals various symptoms of nihu but also portrays in detail the performing of the nihu kachiri rituals to endow obeisance to the maternal uncle.26 Malin is characterized by exhibiting mucophagy, BFRBs of constantly pulling her hair, biting her nails (onychophagia), emotional disturbances, absentmindedness, and shamelessness. Such signs manifested by Malin, of both somatic and psychical illness, are believed to be the direct result of her nihu kachiri, meaning that “she seeks or longs for her maternal uncle.” Another relevant media example for this study is the case of Mukrang Bey Ke Et, a young YouTuber: In one of his vlogs, he delves into investigating nihu kachiri by interviewing Mr. Longsing Bey, a Karbi elder. Strikingly, Mr Longsing Bey provides a different version of the eventuality of nihu kachiri within the Karbi community.27 The video focuses on revealing how this particular folk illness has interwoven into Karbis’ culture and society for more than ten generations. We can no longer deny that media has become an indispensable determinant in aggrandizing and reinforcing popular culture. In the essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” Benjamin observed that: One might generalize by saying: the technique of reproduction detaches the reproduced object from the domain of tradition. By making many reproductions it substitutes a plurality of copies for a unique existence. And in permitting the reproduction to meet the beholder or listener in his own particular situation, it reactivates the object reproduced. These two processes lead to a tremendous shattering of tradition which is the obverse of the contemporary crisis and renewal of mankind. Both processes are intimately connected with contemporary mass movements. Their most powerful agent is the film.28 In the era of digital media, popular culture has already been acknowledged as a consistent field, and given the recurrent media reproductions, the concept of “authenticity” becomes hard to validate. Nonetheless, the representation of this culture-bound syndrome within various genres of Karbis’ popular culture has the paradoxical effect of enhancing and perpetuating the traditional system of beliefs instead of nullifying it. One can quickly notice that in the aforementioned contemporary media examples of nihu kachiri, consistent efforts have been made to preserve the integrity of the traditional beliefs of the Karbis.

140  Sermily Terangpi Nihu in Short Stories In the short story written by Biren Hanse titled Panglar (Exchange), the writer traces the predicaments of a nihu-stricken person and the aftermath that occurs when the ritual of nihu kachiri is not performed. A ten-year-old boy presents various symptoms of nihu, being anemic, sickly, shameless, and without any appetite. At first, the boy’s parents ignored such symptoms for two long years, but as his condition deteriorated, they had to approach the village diviner. Thereby, he divined that the boy must urgently seek a “siksak arnan” (ring) from his maternal uncle or must be fed with the “an dum” (rice balls) from the sought maternal uncle’s hand. The village diviner further warned that the rituals of nihu kachiri must be performed at the earliest before the condition exacerbates. However, during the ritual of feeding the rice balls instead of the afflicted person, Sarbura, his other sibling, consumed the rice balls. As revealed in the story, “AN DUM cho dundet ajoine aphu henodak lo”, meaning “because he consumed the RICE BALL, he turned mad.”29 Unfulfilling the ritual and not obeying the maternal uncle had serious repercussions, and not only was the boy persecuted, but Sarbura also faced severe consequences. Furthermore, the short story Panglar achieves the successful dissemination of the folk tale and the deeply rooted belief in the seriousness of the illness within the Karbi community. The author of Panglar has accurately portrayed the severity and the austerity of the nihu syndrome if not treated meticulously. The narrative portrays the reverberation of “nihu Kachingkhan” or “nihu urgency,” which is associated with the severe cases of the illness. The “nihu urgency” would be so-called because the afflicted person is obliged to perform the rituals at the earliest possible moment, to obviate further complications. In the story, the rice balls were strictly meant for the boy to be fed, yet the unintended consumption of it by Sarbura turned fatal for both, and nothing could cure them. Nevertheless, both the boys suffered. The nihu-stricken boy endured agonizing pain for two years and died, and sequentially, Sarbura also showed signs of nihu and eventually turned completely mad. The madness of ­Sarbura, which is a result of nihu syndrome, is irreparable as justified in the story. The narrative converts into providing a lens, context, and a stratagem to typify Karbi culture and society. Significance of Nihu In the Karbi worldview, nihu, often referred to as “the maternal uncle” or more commonly known as “ong” occupies a paramount position. The maternal uncle is revered as “God,” which is accentuated by a well-known Karbi aphorism according to which “the maternal uncle is God” or “Ong

A Study of the Culture-Bound Syndrome Known as Nihu in the Karbis  141 ke e-arnam.” In many rites and rituals, the presence of the maternal uncle is mandatorily sought, and several distinct rites can only be fulfilled by the maternal uncle. In any case, if the legitimate “ong” or “nihu” is unavailable, then a cousin or a male member of the mother’s side from the same clan should fill in the role. As noted by Mr. Sikari Tisso: “The maternal uncle is never to be insulted or imprecated but must always be honored.”30 The Karbis strictly adhere to this saying, and even today, the nihu or the maternal uncle is revered, and obeying him is customary.

Figure 6.4  Karbi girls in Karbi traditional attire

In the Chojun and Chomangkan festivals, the participation of the ­maternal uncle is indispensable. To auspiciously commence and complete these festivals, the maternal uncle must bring the “a-maan a hor-hak” or “rice beer brought in a traditional basket” to the respective family solemnizing the festivals. Among other important dignitaries and representative figures from different households present during various Karbi festivals and rituals, the maternal uncle is given “maan,” meaning respect with a bottle of traditional rice beer. The pervasiveness of the role of the maternal uncle in Karbi society is accepted without any argument.

142  Sermily Terangpi Conclusion In today’s Karbi society, nihu has transpired to be a term employed to casually mock or cuss a person, exhibiting behavior deemed different or abnormal. Nevertheless, the magnitude and severity of this syndrome can only be understood by the victim and the family. This particular ethnic group fully embraces the cultural treatment over the medical intervention. Nihu, otherwise known as nihu kachiri, may be appraised as a distinct epidemiology among infants and adolescents of the Karbi community. How it has been normalized in today’s language reflects the community’s attitude toward this culture-bound syndrome exemplifying that popular culture has had monumental leverage on Karbi society. Therefore, this ­chapter also validates the importance and cultural particularities of indigenous response to health care and illnesses and its wide acceptance within the community. The representation of the nihu syndrome in modern popular culture typifies the quintessence and meaning embedded in the supposed folk illness. Consequently, the rare occurrence of nihu kachiri should be further explored and studied to comprehend the intrinsic socio-cultural and religious relevance of social psychiatrists. Note The author is an active member of the Karbi community, and the present research study is inspired by her lifetime experience, knowledge, and native connection with the tribe. Acknowledgment My sincere gratitude to Mr. Dharamsing Teron for his valuable suggestions. I am also indebted to Mr. Shikari Tisso for the inestimable telephonic interview. Furthermore, I am grateful to Mr. Longbir Ingti as well for his immense help. Likewise, I would like to express my gratitude to Mr. Sarmongve Engleng for his kindness to lend the photos displayed in this chapter. Thanks to Yuri, my husband, and my three children. Finally, my sincere thanks to the editor, Professor Cringuta Irina Pelea, for her untiring support and comments on my chapter. Notes 1 Shanawer Rafique, Mohsin Hassan Khan, and Hira Bilal, A Critical Analysis of Pop Culture and Media, Global Review (GRR), Vol. 7, No. I (Winter 2022), 179. 2 Phangcho, Morningkey. “About the Karbis.” Karbi Studies, edited by Dharamsing Teron, (Vol.1) 2nd edition, Assam Book Hive, Guwahati, 2012, 4. 3 The name Kaziranga came from the Karbi word “Kajir arong,” Kajir is the name of a Karbi damsel, and “arong” means village; hence, the name Kaziranga is a corrupted word for Kajir-arong.

A Study of the Culture-Bound Syndrome Known as Nihu in the Karbis  143 4 Teron, Dharamsing. Karbi Studies (Vol.2), Assam Book Hive, Guwahati, 2011, 82, 83. 5 Timung, Longkiri and Singh, Narendra Kh. Totemic Beliefs and Biodiversity Conservation Among the Karbis of Assam, India. Research on Humanities and Social Sciences. Vol. 6, No. 11, 2016, 27. 6 Bhattacharjee, Somenath. Tradition and Contemporary Changes in the Religious Belief of the Karbi People in Karbi Anglong, Assam. Anthropologist, 40(1–3): 16–33, 2020, 18. 7 Teron, Dharamsing, ibid. 8 Przemyslaw, Pacan. Grzesiak, Magdalena. Reich, Adam. Kantorska-Janiec and Szepietowski. Onychophagia and Onychotillomania: Prevalence, Clinical Picture and Comorbidities. Clinical Report. Acta Dermato-Venereologica, 2014, 67. 9 https://www.psychologyandi.com/is-picking-your-nose-and-eating-boogers-a-­ disorder/. 10 Bordeianou, Liliana. Hicks, Caitlin W. Kaiser, Andreas M. Alavi, Karim. Sudan, Ranjan and Wise Paul E. Rectal Prolapse: An Overview of Clinical Features, Diagnosis, and Patient-Specific Management Strategies. Journal of Gastrointestinal Surgery, 2013, 1. 11 Gardner, R. A. (2002). Parental alienation syndrome versus parental alienation: Which diagnosis should evaluators use in child-custody disputes? American Journal of Family Therapy, 30, 93–115. doi:10.1080/019261802753573821. 93. 12 Lillian N. Stiegler, “Understanding Pica Behavior,” Focus on Autism and Other Developmental Disabilities. 20(1), Spring 2005, 27. 13 Deshpande, Aniruddh. Caldwell, Patrina & Gontard, Alexander Von. ­Management of nocturnal enuresis. Clinical Review. October, 2013, 1. 14 Vuletic, Biljana. Encopresis in Children: An Overview of Recent Findings, Review Paper 2016, 158. 15 American Psychology Association Dictionary of Psychology. https://dictionary. apa.org/shamelessness. 16 Hodgins, Shielagh. Severe Mental Illness and Aggressive Behavior: On the ­Importance of Considering Subgroups. International Journal of Forensic Mental Health, 10(2): 107. 2011. DOI: 10.1080/14999013.2011.577136. 17 Ahmed, Aiesha. Simmons, Zachary. Pseudobulbar Affect: Prevalence and ­Management. Therapeutics and Clinical Risk Management, 9: 483, 2013. 18 Teron, Dharamsing. Karbi Studies (Vol.1), Assam Book Hive, Guwahati, 2008, 164. 19 Teron, Dharamsing, 166. 20 Teron, Dharamsing, 166. 21 Teron, Dharamsing, 166. 22 Bhattacharjee S. Kapherem: A Traditional Healing Through Chantings of the Karbis in Karbi Anglong, Assam. Anthropology Ethnology Open Access Journal, (2): 000180, 2022, 1. 23 Teron, Dharamsing, 169. 24 As performed by Sarthe Lekthe of Kongjuk Athoi village and collected by Sikari Tisso. 25 As performed by Sarthe Lekthe of Kongjuk Athoi village and collected by Sikari Tisso. 26 NIHU-Karbi Short Movie, 17.02.2019. Karbi Pictures. www.youtube.com. 27 Bey, Mukrang Ke-Et. “A-Nihu Kachiri,” 13.05.2021. www.youtube.com. 28 Benjamin, Walter. The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. ­Illuminations, Edt. Hannah Arendt, New York: Schocken Books, 1969, 4. 29 Hanse, Biren. Samphridang Ahemtun, A Collection of Short Stories. Karbi Lamet Amei, Diphu, 2018, 19. 30 A telephonic interview with Mr. Sikari Tisso on 20/10/2022.

144  Sermily Terangpi References Ahmed, Aiesha and Simmons, Zachary. Pseudobulbar Affect: Prevalence and Management Therapeutics and Clinical Risk Management. London: Dovepress, 2013. American Psychology Association Dictionary of Psychology. https://dictionary.apa. org/shamelessness. Benjamin, Walter. The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. Illuminations, Edt. Hannah Arendt, New York: Schocken Books, 1969. Bey, Mukrang Ke-Et. “A-Nihu Kachiri,” 13.05.2021. www.youtube.com. Bhattacharjee, S. Kapherem. A Traditional Healing Through Chantings of the Karbis in Karbi Anglong, Assam. Anthropology Ethnology Open Access Journal 2022, Vol. 5 (2): 000180. Bhattacharjee, Somenath. Tradition and Contemporary Changes in the Religious Belief of the Karbi People in Karbi Anglong, Assam. Anthropologist 2020, Vol. 40 (1–3): 16–33. Bordeianou, Liliana. Hicks, Caitlin W. Kaiser, Andreas M. Alavi, Karim. Sudan, Ranjan and Wise Paul E. Rectal Prolapse: An Overview of Clinical Features, ­ ­Diagnosis, and Patient-Specific Management Strategies. Journal of Gastrointestinal Surgery, 2013, Vol. 18, No. 5, 1059–1069. Deshpande, Aniruddh. Caldwell, Patrina and Gontard, Alexander Von. Management of nocturnal enuresis. Clinical Review. October 2013. Gardner, R. A. Parental Alienation Syndrome Versus Parental Alienation: Which Diagnosis Should Evaluators Use in Child-Custody Disputes? American Journal of Family Therapy, 2002, Vol. 30, 93–115. doi:10.1080/019261802753573821. Hanse, Biren. Samphridang Ahemtun, A Collection of Short Stories. Karbi Lamet Amei, Diphu, 2018. Hodgins, Shielagh. Severe Mental Illness and Aggressive Behavior: On the Importance of Considering Subgroups. International Journal of Forensic Mental Health, 2011, Vol. 10 (2), 107. doi:10.1080/14999013.2011.577136. Lillian N. Stiegler. “Understanding Pica Behavior,” Focus on Autism and Other ­Developmental Disabilities, Spring 2005, Vol. 20 (1). Przemyslaw, Pacan. Grzesiak, Magdalena. Reich, Adam. Kantorska-Janiec and ­Szepietowski. Onychophagia and Onychotillomania: Prevalence, Clinical Picture and Comorbidities. Clinical Report. Acta Dermato-Venereologica, 2014. Shanawer Rafique, Mohsin Hassan Khan and Hira Bilal, A Critical Analysis of Pop Culture and Media, Global Review (GRR), Vol. 7, No. I (Winter 2022). Teron, Dharamsing. Karbi Studies (Vol.1), Assam Book Hive, Guwahati, 2008, Teron, Dharamsing. Karbi Studies (Vol.2), Assam Book Hive, Guwahati, 2011. Timung, Longkiri and Singh, Narendra Kh. Totemic Beliefs and Biodiversity ­Conservation Among the Karbis of Assam, India. Research on Humanities and Social Sciences, 2016, Vol. 6 (11). Vuletic, Biljana. Encopresis in Children: An Overview of Recent Findings, Review Paper 2016.

7 Old but Still Going Strong Don Khong in Thai Popular Culture Kultida Khammee

Introduction Thai people, also known as Siamese, are a Tai ethnic group, mostly residing in the Indochinese peninsula. Since Thais have had millennia-long migration history and maintained socio-political and cultural interaction with neighboring ethnic groups in the region, there are numerous cultural traits shared by those people. Despite such numerous shared features, Thais also have diverse beliefs and cultural practices that can uniquely characterize them, not necessarily in their kinds but evidently in the degree of enthusiasm toward such beliefs and practices. We propose that don khong (โดนของ) is one such widespread culture-bound syndrome, which has a long history and is a deeply rooted ethos in the minds of the contemporary Thais. This chapter addresses don khong from the perspective of culture-bound syndromes. Thai people are deeply religious and tend to attribute supernatural power to not only humans but also inanimate objects. Thus, among the most conspicuous and peculiar characteristics of Thais in the eyes of foreign visitors is their superstitious approach to many problems including physical illnesses. Even though don khong is a prominent and deep-seated feature of the Thais, it has not received any earnest attention in the literature. Some medical practitioners and researchers addressed culture-bound syndromes across cultures from the perspective of medical science, occasionally mentioning certain mental disorders among the Thais without reference to don khong.1 There is an excellent reference providing an account of a Thai policeman, in which there is extensive and intensive exposition on Thai magic, mostly to prevent bodily harm.2 Don khong, however, has not been addressed in the work. This chapter intends to fill the research gap, by describing don khong with respect to its history, manifestations, and its prevalence in popular literature, and further by discussing its significance from social, cultural, and even political perspectives. Given these objectives, this chapter is organized in the following way. We first describe the history of don khong, its sources, types, and manifestations. Then, we provide examples of don khong used as the major theme in four pieces of the early Rattanakosin period and modern literature, i.e., Khun DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-10

146  Kultida Khammee Chang Khun Phaen (2013[1872]), Rang Phra Ruang (2006), Dek Kamphra Haeng Suang Sawan (2006), and Athan Namman Phi (2014). The exposition is followed by a discussion on the alleged treatments, functions, and its significance in Thai society. The final section summarizes the findings and concludes the chapter. Don Khong History

Thais are predominantly Theravada Buddhists, accounting for 94.6% of the Thai population.3 Even though orthodox Buddhists categorically reject any connection between Buddhism and shamanism or magic, and Buddha rejected a magical or shamanistic identity for himself, the line between ­Buddhism on the one hand and shamanism, magic, totemism, and witchcraft in Thailand, and much of Asia, on the other, has never been clear.4 The blurry boundary is because the Buddha himself was described as possessing supernatural power and potency, e.g., flying into the sky, touching the sun with his hand, and making his body into many bodies, a theme pervasive in the early Buddhist literature since such powers facilitated conversion to Buddhism.5 Don khong, also known as thuk khun sai (ถูกคุณไสย), literally ‘done by magic,’ is a complex and mysterious concept in Thai culture, and belongs to the common vocabulary in Thai, though incomprehensible to the speakers of other languages. Thais usually ascribe their own or someone else’s misfortune, big or small, to don khong. It is widely believed that it can be wrought not only by humans but also by non-humans, such as nature. Since Thai people hold the animistic belief that spirits reside in each tree and forest or even rocks and power poles, such ascription is natural. Don khong is connected to ancient magical rituals, whereby some powerful forces were conjured up and made to enter the enemy’s body. Sometimes, the ritual includes black magic involving burying the adversary’s image, whereby the adversary would suffer or die. It is not clear when don khong was first believed and practiced in ­Thailand, but it is likely that the beginning is closely linked to Buddhism, which is believed to have been first introduced to this region in the third century BCE, during the reign of Asoka.6 For instance, Buddhist monks recite two kinds of invocation, i.e., paritta (ปริตร) and rakkha (รักขา), the former to keep a person safe from evil spells, weapons, betrayal, fire, and poison, and the latter to protect against disease, disaster, and malignant spirits, and to avert misfortune of all kinds. These texts date from the Buddha’s time.7 It is also possible that since black magic, also called dark magic, saiyasat (ไสยศาสตร์), can be traced to the primitive, ritualistic worship of spirits for evil and selfish purposes, believed to have been practiced in prehistoric times, don khong may well predate Buddhism.8

Don Khong in Thai Popular Culture  147 Uncertainties in origin notwithstanding, Buddhism, animism, magic, ­amulets, shamanism, don khong, and a number of manifestations of religiosity are intricately intertwined in modern-day Thailand.9 Sources, Types, and Manifestations of Don Khong

A person may be inflicted with don khong as a result of malevolent actions by human or superhuman adversaries, ghosts, nature, karma, breach of religious oath, etc. Symptoms of don khong are many and varied, including psychological changes, e.g., desperateness, forgetfulness, distraction, heart palpitations, fatigue, and lack of energy for no reason, and physical changes, e.g., the skin turning dull, bodily aches, numbness, and physical deformity. The possible consequences include all forms of misfortune, e.g., experiencing job loss, accident, sickness, insanity, and even death. Despite the clear manifestations of physical symptoms, medical doctors cannot identify the ailment and provide cure. Thus, the sufferers of don khong turn instead to monks, who recite incantations to drive away the don khong (see below Don khong as a medical syndrome and its treatment). Even in the digital era, some Thai people still believe in the occult. Its popularity is such that a search of the word don khong (โดนของ) on Google returns as many as 214 million hits. It has been observed that human sexuality has profound effects on societal value systems, and social development is linked to increased sexuality.10 In Thai culture, where sexual attraction is highly valued, as in many or most societies, people increasingly tend to resort to magic, instead of winning love or resolving a conflict of jealousy through personal interaction. In the sense that the target of affection or curse is unaware of the sorcery, the targeted person is a victim. In the past, one had to give the victim’s date and time of birth or present their belongings as essential elements to a sorcerer to perform a magic ceremony. In present-day Thailand, however, the performers claim that only a picture and the name of the victim are sufficient to bring forth the desired effect. People also believe that the client of the magic and the victim have to have some related karma to each other. Occult magic requires a high level of expertise on the part of the sorcerer and at the same time bravery and willingness to face the financial burden on the part of the solicitor, because the black magic will return to the solicitor with a threefold increased strength if the occult spell is detected and dissolved by the victim’s retaliatory magic. There are four types of black magic in Thailand, i.e., conjuring, protecting, controlling, and attacking types. The conjuring type is considered to be the low-level occult practice, whereby various objects are made to appear in the victim’s stomach, e.g., nails from a coffin lid, coins from a corpse’s mouth, funeral blankets, or a piece of buffalo hides (even though how they enter and appear in the victim’s stomach is never known). The protecting

148  Kultida Khammee type is of a little higher level, including the use of a tattoo, a talisman, or a protective metallic or mercury amulet specifically created for the purpose of protecting the carrier from dangers. The controlling type is a still higher level occult practice, including the use of voodoo dolls, pill charms, and corpse oil. The last, attacking type, is of the highest level, involving the use of magic puppets, such as buffalo dolls and or ‘golden doll,’ known as kuman thong (กุมารทอง). There are many objects involved in the dark art of don khong, e.g., charms, amulets, consecrated stones, ‘golden dolls’ (kuman thong), linga cast from bronze or carved out of timber, lucky fish (pla taphian, ปลาตะเพียน), a mobile handicraft, and therapeutic herbs.11 Amulets, the most widely used ones for that purpose, are of various shapes, materials, modes of production, and efficacy. If an amulet is mass-produced, it is stamped from a powdered compound containing ash, ground-up tiles from a famous monastery, and therapeutic plants.12 Some herbs are believed to protect one against bullets and sharp objects. An amulet created by the king and affixed to a Buddha image he had commissioned contained the king’s hair and nail clippings. B ­ uddhist amulets, known as phra khrueang (พระเครือ ่ ง), include images of Buddha, famous monks, and Thai kings, whereas animistic amulets, known as khrueang rang (เครือ ่ งราง), includes scrolled sheet (takrut, ตะกรุด), cowrie shell (biakae, เบีย้ แก),้ and phallic images (palad khik, ปลัดขิก).13 These amulets can be traced to the ancient votive tablet, which originated in India around the beginning of the Christian era.14 Some don khong objects like extracts of herbs are believed to have special efficacy. For instance, people generally believe that wild vines are suitable for making charms to increase the attractiveness of the user. If one uses them and talks before others, the charms will make the addressee interested in and attentive to the talk. Such charms are best if used while engaged in trade negotiations or approaching new potential business partners or clients, hence sought for by negotiators, salespeople, public speakers, or those in similar trades. For a similar reason, it is often used in shops, restaurants, pubs, clubs, department stores, or businesses that need to attract a lot of customers. ­Furthermore, such charms can make people fall in love. Thus, they are used when one desires to flirt with someone, especially an old person seeking a romantic relationship with a young one. People believe that this creeping plant will make its users look attractive and desirable. Even in an already established relationship, people using these charms will look more charming than ever before. In modern Thai society, people have variable attitudes toward black magic; some think that it is far from their lives; but some are more open, believing that anything is possible. However, it is also widely believed that observing the Buddhist precepts, making merits, good thinking, and performing it are ordinary behaviors and acts that can help prevent don khong, because the sacred good power thus invoked will provide protection for them.

Figure 7.1  Buddhist and animistic amulets. Photograph by the author

Don Khong in Thai Popular Culture  149

150  Kultida Khammee Don Khong in Popular Literature Khun Chang Khun Phaen

Khun Chang Khun Phaen (2013[1872]; ขุนช้างขุนแผน), a long Thai epic poem, consisting of 43 chapters, originated from Thai folklore and is one of the most celebrated works in Thai literature.15 Among the main themes of the poem is how don khong is used by the characters and what tragic consequences they face. The story is based on a true story of the personae who lived in then-capital Ayutthaya during the Ayutthaya period (1350-1767). Ayutthaya Sepha is a special operetta, in which singers sing the lines of the Khun Chang Khun Phaen poems, an entertainment widely popular and performed in auspicious events. The stories, written in vernacular diction and regarded as the best Sepha poem by the Thai Royal Society of Literature, are about the lives of ordinary people in ancient times involving various customs and traditions.16 The chapter entitled Soi Fah Tham Sa Nae (สร้อยฟ้าทำ�เสน่ห์) ‘Soi Fah performs love spells’ describes two wives, Soi Fah and Sri Mala, in acute rivalry, fighting to win the love their husband, Meun Wai. Soi Fah and Sri Mala cook a Thai crispy pancake for their husband, who liked one made by Sri Mala but did not like the unappetizing one made by Soi Fah. Meun Wai favors Sri Mala, which makes Soi Fah angry and jealous. The situation becomes worse as the mother-in-law favors Sri Mala and scolds Soi Fah. With no one to support her, Soi Fah visits a shaman and seeks spiritual intervention, so Meun Wai may love and sleep with her. The shaman recites incantations and makes two voodoo dolls representing her and her husband, tied together, which she would place under the mattress. He also gives her special herb oil mixed with corpse oil. Soon enough, the next night, the husband dreams about Soi Fah, but as part of an effect of the don khong that fell upon him, he becomes agitated and is unable to go back to sleep. He visits Soi Fah’s quarters, where she pours out her heart. He sympathizes with her distress, offers comfort, and sleeps with her, which proves the efficacy of the magic. When Meun Wai goes to work in the royal palace, he keeps thinking about Soi Fah. The king asks if he is fine because his face looks dull, as a result of the voodoo, which he is not aware of. Upon returning home, he finds his two wives fighting as Soi Fah is bullying Sri Mala. The husband would protect Sri Mala, but this time, he takes side with Soi Fah and even beats Sri Mala. The person who helps resolve this escalating problem is Meun Wai’s father, who is informed by one of his sons, Plai Chum Phon, a half-brother of Meun Wai about the problem. Plai Chum Phon has a kuman thong child, a highly potent don khong artifact (see below for Sources, types, and manifestations of don khong), as his friend. This child tells him that Meun Wai is under the influence of black magic. The father tells Meun Wai what is happening to him, to his disbelief.

Don Khong in Thai Popular Culture  151 The book elaborates on charms (ya faet, ยาแฝด) to make someone fall in love with the one who initiates the sorcery. Such black magic, however, has side effects, such as a pale face, dark circles around the eyes, blemished face, and unintelligible murmuring, which become increasingly severe until the victim loses consciousness. The case is finally brought to the attention of the king, and in the trial, Sri Mala and Soi Fah walk over fire to prove their innocence. Soi Fah is found guilty and is sentenced to execution, but her love rival Sri Mala entreats the king for sparing Soi Fah’s life because she is already in her seventh month of pregnancy. The king, accepting the entreaty, orders Soi Fah to go on an exile to another province. The book explicitly forbids black magic because of side effects, and Soi Fah’s punishment from the king also reflects the laws of the time that regarded black magic a punishable breach of law. Rang Phra Ruang

Rang Phra Ruang (2006) represents a blurry picture between the occult and Buddhism. In one of a number of stories in it, a hunter, who became lost in a forest which made him disoriented, is found by the villagers through the intervention of a monk.17 The villagers realize in consternation that the forest inflicts don khong on unwary humans who walk into it. A work of modern times, the book shows that the theme, i.e., the occult don khong art, attracts a large readership in Thailand and remains a strong element in Thai culture. The main character of the book is Don, a former monk, who is also the narrator of the story. After ordainment into the priesthood, Don acquires the power to destroy evil spirits dwelling in the haunted forests. He can also help liberate the souls of spirits that are confined in the forest by don khong. This shows that don khong afflicts not only humans but also spiritual beings, which lose their freedom of movement. All opposing forces to his rituals and practices are evil, created by black magic. The story upholds the sanctity and virtues of monks, through a number of episodes. One story in the work describes miracles performed by a Buddhist monk conversant in magic art, who conjures up small Buddha images and uses them as amulets. In a session of conjuring ceremony, a man suddenly begins to howl like a dog, a scenario commonly believed to be a manifestation of khong (other being) dwelling inside him, or khong kheun (ของขึ้น), ‘the rise of khong’ (see below for significance of don khong in modern Thailand). The characters in the story, quite like in reality, really believe the power of the small Buddha images. It is a widely known fact in reality that some of such small Buddha images, believed to be particularly effective in performing magic, are sold at an enormous price, often higher than luxury cars. There are auctions for such highly prized amulets, and people compete to acquire them, because they believe that these amulets will bring fortune to their career and business. The book also includes stories of belief in ghosts. In one of them, it is said that some trees in the forest are not regular trees but are haunted ones. When

152  Kultida Khammee one eats the fruits of these haunted trees, the person may be affected either positively or negatively; e.g., some may become braver, while some may fall sick as a result. Sicknesses thus caused may be physical or mental. It is also said that people in the forest sometimes see, while subconscious, the spirits in disguise. Since such occasional sighting occurs in subconsciousness, people in the forest may be unable to distinguish what is real and what is illusion. Similarly, the book also includes a story of tree nymphs residing in rafts of log in the forest river. Don narrates his meeting people whose entire community is suffering from fever as a result of don khong brought forth by nymphs and spirits. Dek Kamphra Haeng Suang Sawan

Dek Kamphra Haeng Suang Sawan (2006) depicts characters with complex relationships, exposing the dark aspects of their life and society, e.g., broken families, political influence, and homosexuality, among others. One of the episodes is about how a sorcerer-painter inflicts don khong on a wealthy woman.18 Somwan, one of the main characters in the story, is close to a lady named Kee. Kee is Somwan’s mentor figure giving guidance for her life. After ­Somwan breaks up with her boyfriend and falls into depression, Kee tries to help her and tells her to pray and meditate. Kee once said she is lucky because she was born with clairvoyance. Somwan tells her friend Chuang a story of a mysterious painting. There is an affluent lady from Phitsanulok, whose husband is a successful celebrity. One day, a man proposes to sell to her a beautiful painting, depicting Mother Earth squeezing her wet hair, at a reasonable price.19 She decides to buy it and hangs it in the living room. This painting, in fact, is an object of don khong, a work of a sorcerer who casts a spell on its owner. Now placed under the spell, the lady millionaire keeps thinking about the sorcerer. She becomes irrational and pours her wealth, mind, and body on the painter to pamper him. Her husband consults his friend for a solution, who introduces him to Kee. Somwan drives to Phitsanulok to bring that painting to perform a ritual in order to dispel the magic from it. While Somwan is returning to Bangkok carrying the painting, the car runs out of fuel along the way and narrowly escapes an accident. Kee senses that the strange events happening to Somwan are due to the mysterious effects created by the painting. After they perform a ceremony of dispelling the magic, the life of the lady millionaire slowly returns to normal. When Chuang asks Somwan where the painting is, she answers, as she heard from Kee, that Kee has burnt it already because the magic would not go away otherwise. However, there is a twist at the end of the story, when Chuang and ­Somwan go to Kee’s house. Chuang does not believe that Kee has the miraculous power, and secretly searches her house during the visit. He finds the very mysterious painting of Mother Earth, which reveals that the shaman lied. He plans to expose the deceitfulness of the shaman with the help of journalists. The journalists, disguising themselves as a couple, fully prepared with fake

Don Khong in Thai Popular Culture  153 pictures and made-up stories, tell the shaman that their son died on a trip to a dam. Kee, the shaman, calls the reporters and tells them that the spirit of the child is seen at the edge of the river, a downright lie. The whole conversation is recorded by a hidden camera. The next day, the image of the imposter Kee is broadcast all over the country. The author of the book thus satirizes Thai society, whereby he reproaches superstitious and ignorant people who blindly trust shamans.

Figure 7.2  Mother Earth squeezing her wet hair. Photograph by the author

154  Kultida Khammee Athan Namman Phi

Another novel related to don khong found in recent decade is Athan ­Namman Phi (2014).20 The title can be translated as Corpse Oil Mysteries, and the front matter carries a warning of reader discretion due to the macabre nature of the content. It is a story about unrequited love. A young man, Khomsan, loves his co-worker whose name is Nongnuch. However, Nongnuch does not love him and, furthermore, is going to marry soon with her love. Khomsan, realizing the impossibility of possessing her, desperately resorts to magic, not fully understanding the consequences of the dangerous magical practice. Nongnuch is going to marry Wasin soon, and the two are busy preparing for their wedding ceremony. The more things become clearer about his love bound to fail, the more seriously Khomsan wants her. Nongnuch makes it clear that Khomsan is nothing more than a friend and that her fiancé is her only love. Possessed by the irrational desire to have her, he goes to a shaman and buys his service to fulfill his dream – through dark art, tham khong (ทำ� ของ), ‘doing black magic.’ The shaman agrees and takes him to a cemetery in order to obtain corpse oil from an exhumed body. They break the lid of a coffin containing a female body. The shaman puts a candle on the corpse’s chin and collects in a bottle the yellow water oozing out of the corpse. A female ghost appears in the process, and the shaman fights her by splashing holy water on her to subdue her. Khomsan splashes the corpse’s oil on Nongnuch, who then becomes ill. She acts more and more like an evil without realizing it. Sometimes, she now cannot remember the things that she had done nor does she recognize her family members. Eventually, she cannot even recognize her own fiancé. The symptoms are getting worse till she is on the brink of death. Nongnuch’s father has a deeply pious friend who always prays, meditates, and performs white magic. He identifies her symptoms and helps solve the problem, by using holy water and reciting incantations. The shaman’s black magic loses power and eventually is overcome by the white magic. The shaman cannot even protect himself because the spirit he spelled is now released from bondage and returns to attack him in vengeance with greater power. The tragic end sees Khomsan and the shaman die in the fight of the good and evil. Discussion Don khong as a Medical Syndrome and its Treatment

As demonstrated in the foregoing exposition, don khong, though ancient in origin and unscientific in nature, is a strong cultural syndrome specific to Thai culture. Since don khong can be caused by diverse actors for various reasons, one inflicted with don khong supposedly can exhibit a number of psychological and physiological manifestations. Despite the clear manifestations of physical symptoms, medical doctors cannot identify the ailment and provide cure, and sufferers of don khong turn instead to non-scientific means.

Don Khong in Thai Popular Culture  155 In Thailand, notably in the northeastern region, there is an occupation called mo tham (หมอธรรม), ‘Dharma doctor,’ a unique practitioner for certain types of illnesses.21 People generally have dichotomous beliefs that illnesses caused by germs may be cured by medical doctors and medication, but illnesses caused by ghosts must be treated by resorting to something stronger than medicine, i.e., powerful spirits. Since all types of suffering, from dull skin to deformity, from fatigue to serious illnesses, from gossip to job loss, can categorically be manifestations of don khong, and further they can be caused by many human and non-human forces, most of which cannot be easily identified, it is easy to attribute suffering to don khong when the causes are not immediately identifiable. This may be similar to other parts of the world where all kinds of mishaps are thought to be due to ‘bad luck.’ Even those who are not ardent believers of don khong, when the life of their loved ones is at risk and modern medicine does not seem to prove effective, they are willing to seek help from the ‘ghostbusters’ to save the life like a candle flickering in the wind. Needless to say, in Thailand where Buddhism is the state religion, monks play important roles in treating people who are inflicted with don khong. While monks, mo tham, and other spiritual healers are engaged in treating don khong patients, they use a number of instruments to dispel the evil spirits, most notably ritual incantation and holy water. Monks recite mantras, e.g., paritta as white magic, an antidote of black magic from which the patients need to be released. Monks also use holy water to dispel evils and black magic they imposed. Holy water in Buddhism is the water that monks have ritualistically purified and consecrated. In exorcism sessions for don khong patients, holy water is used for sprinkling, bathing, or drinking. ­Sorcerers and shamans also use holy water to drive away ghosts and evils. The use of holy water is not restricted to don khong treatment. It is sprinkled when performing rituals such as making merits and blessing marriages or new homes or businesses. It is regarded as auspicious water bringing good luck and eliminating misfortunes, dangers, and disasters. In addition to ritualistic treatment, spiritual healers advise the don khong patients and people in general to protect themselves by practicing beneficial routines. These are widely known and have become common knowledge and belief for Thais. People believe, as monks would suggest, that the preventive measures for protecting themselves from falling victim of don khong lie in keeping praying, spreading kindness to others, making donations, creating good karma, and strengthening the guardian spirits. They also believe that praying and reciting mantras, living by Buddhist principles, staying alert to their conscience, and exercising caution are ways to shield themselves against the evil spirits. From a socio-anthropological perspective, we consider don khong a culture-bound syndrome, i.e., mental illnesses caused by psychosocial and cultural factors. From this point of view, the cultural environment can stimulate mental disorders and provoke region-specific psychological illnesses.22

156  Kultida Khammee Researchers note that some illnesses are treated as ­distinctive psychiatric disorders; many others have not yet been clinically recognized.23 Culture-bound syndromes in social anthropology may be mental illnesses that are caused by three different kinds of power, i.e., supernatural (by good or bad spirits), preternatural (sorcery, curse spell, black magic, corpse oil, etc.), and natural (biological, genetic, etc.) power.24 Under this tripartite categorization, don khong is primarily classifiable as an illness or symptom caused by preternatural power. One notable aspect of don khong is that even though it is deeply rooted in the fear of preternatural powers, it is also based on the trust in human power to overcome it. For instance, the four pieces of literary works both old and new show that humans are more powerful than nature or the preternatural. In other words, humans may fall victim of such dark forces and have don khong symptoms; it is the humans, e.g., shamans, sorcerers, and monks, that can neutralize the adverse forces. Shamans and sorcerers can cause don khong and cure it; they are creators and solvers of the problem. Monks do not practice the dark art of inflicting don khong; they are solvers. Significance of Don Khong in Modern Thailand

Even though many would consider that magic, especially black magic, is irrelevant in the modern world, and that even in the parts of the world where it is practiced or believed, it would belong to the uneducated. However, ­Thailand presents a unique picture. While it is one of the countries playing a leading role in the region in diverse sectors, still, don khong is popularly believed, though at varying degrees, and is a topic of general interest. Not only streetside souvenir stores but also museum shops, temple shops, and department stores have a large number of amulets to invoke divine intervention in their life. Talismans, amulets, and protective tattoos are commonplace, found worn by people, decorating business spaces, and conspicuously displayed in automobiles, private and public. In Thailand, there are many Buddhist monks who claim to have supernatural powers, with which they can intervene in the troublesome life of ordinary people. Some of them routinely give out auspicious lottery numbers to devotees. Buddhist monks’ spiritual abilities are highly revered to the point that some of them after they pass away do not undergo decomposition even without preservatives. There are temples displaying these ‘incorruptible monks’ in a glass case, e.g., Luang Pho Daeng who passed away in 1973, displayed at Wat Khunaram on Ko Samui island, and Luang Pu Chuen who passed away in 1999, displayed at Wat Tham Suea in Kanchanaburi. Also notable in modern Thailand is that people tend to change their phone numbers whenever things in their life are not proceeding smoothly. They are particularly keen on the mysterious power, both positive and negative, the numbers can bring. Their less-than-desirable business, they tend to think, may have been due to, among others, the bad luck their phone numbers

Don Khong in Thai Popular Culture  157 incur. A similar manifestation of numerological belief is the automobile license plate numbers. Thai people in general favor certain numbers, e.g., 9 and 8, and are willing to pay a large sum of money to obtain a customized license plate with lucky numbers, called an ‘auction’ plate or ‘super number’ (thabian rot lek suai, ทะเบียนรถเลขสวย), conspicuous in color as well. As of October 2022, the record price of the super number plate is 28,100,000 THB (equivalent to USD 935,000), purchased by a female physician at a 2020 auction for ‘8กก8888.’25 Attribution of bad luck to something outside the self can also be observed in the practice of name change. In many societies, the name change is considered extraordinary and is often very difficult involving endless and complicated court procedures. Such complexities are necessitated for the stability of record-keeping in administration and for the traceability of criminals for security reasons. In Thailand, however, such name change is surprisingly simple. One may only need to submit an application form, residence certificate, and ID card.26 More surprisingly for most non-Thais, not only the first name but also the last name can be changed. Reasons for a name change may be many and varied, but a statement that the current name is not auspicious or that a counseling Buddhist monk recommended constitutes sufficient ground for the legal name change. This clearly shows that the Thai legal system honors the superstitious beliefs of its people and at the same time how pervasive such beliefs are in the ethos of Thais. A shocking criminal act from a Bangkok dispatch was reported in ­Reuters, World News section.27 It reports a Hong Kong-born man arrested in ­Bangkok’s Chinatown for an attempt to smuggle the corpses of children, two to seven months old, to Taiwan, to sell them as kuman thong ‘golden doll’ for black magic (see above for sources, types, and manifestations of don khong). The newspaper article states “[b]lack magic rituals are still practised in Thailand, where street-side fortune tellers offer ceremonies to reverse bad luck.”28 Even more striking is the news in 2014, reported in BBC, News from Elsewhere section.29 The 2014 coup leader, then-general Prayuth Chanocha, current Prime Minister of Thailand, stated that his ill health was the result of black magic spells cast by his opponents. Bangkok Post newspaper quoted him saying, “Today I have a sore throat, a pain in the neck. Someone said there are people putting a curse on me,” and further, “I had so much lustral water poured over my head, I shivered all over. I’m going to catch a cold now.”30 The newspaper further stated: “Magical symbolism has long played a role in Thai politics. During the last big wave of protests in 2010, anti-government demonstrators splattered buckets of their own blood outside the PM’s residence as priests cast a curse on the authorities” (emphasis original).31 In Thailand, such acts go beyond symbolism. If someone is found to be casting black magic spells on someone in public, they will probably be charged in a court of law and sentenced. More recently, a highly celebrated Thai comedian Udom Taephanich had a stand-up talk show, Deaw #13 Thai Stand Up Comedy in August

158  Kultida Khammee 2022 in Bangkok, now available at Netflix from October 2022. In a 2-hour 52-­minute-long sold-out gig (recorded Netflix version) with audience, he picks up a range of everyday topics, from colonoscopy to funerals. In his show, he talks about ghosts living in his bedroom, his encounter with ghosts in a temple while he was a monk, and his desire to distress people playing don khong after he passes away and becomes a ghost, for 48 minutes.32 Starting the show, saying everything he would say is ‘really’ what happened, his gig included a lot of talks relating to not only mysterious powers of black magic, the problems caused by ghosts, and rituals to ward off black magic spells, but also mysterious incidents such as the appearance of a hidden being in someone’s body (in this case, his female friend Jae Nam turning into a roaring lion; see above khong kheun in Rang Phra Ruang). Even granting that he dramatized the episodes to enhance enjoyability, his talk about nuisances such as embarrassment at a public toilet described as a result of don khong caused by a ghost, very clearly shows how extensively Thais attribute unpleasant things to the preternatural powers in the present-day Thailand. Popular movies, e.g., The Medium (2021), Long Khong (2005), Long Khong II (2008); dramas, e.g., Ruean Rom Ngio (2022), Khatah Sing (2021), Le Ban Pha Kan (2020), Sanya Rak Sanya Luang (2020); series, e.g., Long Khong (2022); and songs, e.g., Don Khong (2012) by the band Flame are among the contemporary popular art forms built on the theme of don khong. Furthermore, a newspaper article carried by a Thai newspaper Thairat, dated February 29, 2020, reports an incident in which a woman was allegedly under the influence of don khong and her boyfriend attempted to save her with a counter-magic biake and brought her to a shrine, where a Buddhist monk eventually cured her with an amulet. Functions of Don Khong

Don khong, a cultural syndrome involving black art, may seem irrelevant in the modern world. However, such practices are widely attested around the world. Anthropologists in fact have long observed the functions of magic in human civilization. For instance, writing about the Trobriand Islands, Malinowski suggests that magic supplies people with a number of readymade ritual acts and beliefs, with a definite mental and practical technique to carry out with confidence important tasks, to maintain poise and mental integrity in fits of anger and in the throes of hate, unrequited love, despair, and anxiety. He also states that the function of magic is to ritualize human optimism, to enhance faith in victory over fear.33 Echoing Malinowski, Reynolds states: Magic and the sciences of protection and prognostication are as much about bolstering confidence and maintaining optimism as they are about thwarting evil. Magic belongs to the psychosocial dimension of human experience. It treats the emotions and humanity’s expressive

Don Khong in Thai Popular Culture  159 needs rather than the rational faculties. However, that does not mean that magic is irrational. It is a highly determinate system whose rules and procedures, which are empirical and precise yet always subject to modification and adjustment, have an integrity all their own.34 In this regard, Malinowski’s insight highlights the significance of magic in the course of human civilization: Looking from far and above, from our high places of safety in the developed civilization, it is easy to see all the crudity and irrelevance of magic. But without its power and guidance early man [sic] could not have mastered his [sic] practical difficulties as he [sic] has done, nor could man [sic] have advanced to the higher stages of civilization. Hence the universal occurrence of magic in primitive societies and its enormous sway. Hence do we find magic an invariable adjunct of all important activities?35 Malinowski’s teleological statement may suggest that in the developed civilization, magic loses its significance for its crudity and irrelevance. At a more practical level, however, don khong seems to carry social and cultural significance in Thailand. Thais are known to be extraordinarily polite for the nation’s rich cultural heritage emphasizing the welfare of others. It cannot be denied that this politeness is directly related to the everyday practice of tham boon (ทำ�บุญ), ‘doing virtuous acts,’ whereby one accumulates virtues, which, in turn, bring good returns. Thais in general are mindful of good karma and bad karma resulting from their actions in daily life; i.e., they constantly make connections of their action to the supernatural world and their afterlife. Furthermore, the don khong culture is also closely related to politeness through their psychology of causal attribution, i.e., blaming the unknown. People in general try to come to peace with the happenings around them. When they experience unfortunate incidents or when goings of things are rough, they try to identify the cause and seek remedy by addressing the cause. Since most effects are tied to the doers in the causal chain, the cause tends to be a human, a colleague, a friend, a family member, etc. When the cause is found or determined to be a colleague, the interpersonal relationship is bound to be hurt, which is particularly damaging in a community of polite people. By attributing all unpleasant developments to the unknown, i.e., considering them the result of the preternatural forces triggered by an unknown breach of codes, incurring the displeasure of such forces unawares, etc. helps avoid harboring grudge against the colleagues with whom they have to work every day and for a long time. The quality of the interpersonal relationship determines the quality of their life. It is likely that the concept of and belief in don khong may be crude and unscientific but that it is the very essence of the wisdom Thais have come to prize.

160  Kultida Khammee Summary and Conclusion This chapter addressed one specific kind of culture-bound syndrome, i.e., don khong, a complex and mysterious concept in Thai culture. Don khong relates to magic spells, whereby victims are inflicted with diverse physical and psychological illnesses. We reviewed four pieces of literature, in which don khong surfaces as the main theme and the personae use it for personal gains, i.e., to achieve egoistic desires of acquiring something or hurting someone in jealousy or enmity. Based on the description of the select literature, we also showed the prevalence of belief in don khong in modern Thailand. We also noted that the victims of don khong seek help from the monks or other non-medical healers who can perform white magic to neutralize the black magic. We also showed that despite the scientific development, Thais still adhere to don khong and related mysterious beliefs, and further argued that don khong, rather than being a crude and irrelevant primitive superstitious belief, in fact, carries significant functions contributing to forging friendly interpersonal relationships and maintaining a polite community. Acknowledgments This research was supported by the University of Phayao, Thailand. Special thanks go to Professor Shaun Manning for kindly proofreading an earlier version of the manuscript. I would also like to express my deep gratitude to ­Professor Dr. Seongha Rhee for his valuable advice and support. F ­ urthermore, my sincere appreciation goes to Professor Dr. Cringuta Irina Pelea as well for her professional guidance and constructive recommendations. Notes 1 Thanya Lunchaprasith, Teeravut Wiwattarangkul, and Sorawit W ­ ainipitapong, “Culture-Bound Syndrome,” Chula Medical Journal 65, no. 3 (2021): pp. ­349–357: Doi: 10.14456/clmj.2021.46, 2021. 2 Craig J. Reynolds, Power, Protection and Magic in Thailand: The Cosmos of a Southern Policeman (Acton: ANU Press, 2019). 3 The World Factbook, Thailand (CIA, October 18, 2021), https://www.cia.gov/ the-world-factbook/countries/thailand/. 4 See, e.g., Sathian Koset [Phya Anuman Rajadhon]. “Satsana priapthiap [Comparative religion],” in Khropkrua Nang Samutmanirat, Anuson nang samutmanirat [In Memory of Nang Samutmanirat]. (Bangkok: Sutthisan Press, 1965); Suwit Khanthawit. Heng phraiwan sut yot paramajan saiyasat kharawat ha paendin mueang sayam [Heng Praiwan: The supreme saiyasat lay master through five ­ Siamese reigns]. (Nonthaburi: Thana Press, 2011). For Tibetan and Chinese ­Buddhism, see also Zhilong Yan and Aixin Zhang. “Ritual and magic” in “Buddhist visual culture from the bird totem.” Religions 13: 719. Doi: 10.3390/rel13080719. 5 Reynolds, Power, Protection and Magic in Thailand: The Cosmos of a Southern Policeman, 125. 6 Karuna Kusalasaya, Buddhism in Thailand: Its Past and Its Present (Sri Lanka: Buddhist Publication Society, 2005).

Don Khong in Thai Popular Culture  161 7 Reynolds, Power, Protection and Magic in Thailand: The Cosmos of a Southern Policeman, 126–127. 8 Robert M Place, Magic and Alchemy: Mysteries, Legends, and Unexplained ­Phenomena (New York: Infobase Publishing, 2009). 9 Barend J. Terwiel “A Model for the Study of Thai Buddhism,” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 35 no. 3 (1976): 391–403; Mary Jane Gandour and Jackson T. Gandour. A Glance at Shamanism in Southern Thailand. (Bangkok: White Lotus Press, 1976); Karuna Kusalasaya, Buddhism in Thailand: Its Past and Its Present. (Sri Lanka: Buddhist Publication Society, 2005); Justin Thomas McDaniel. The Lovelorn Ghost and the Magical Monk: Practicing Buddhism in Modern Thailand. (New York: Columbia University Press, 2011); Premjai Iamkhorpung and Matthew Kosuta. “The Relationship between Buddhist and Animist Amulets in Contemporary Thailand: Phra Khrueang and Khrueang Rang,” Kasetsart Journal of Social Sciences 43 (2022): 53–59. 10 George Peter Murdock, Social Structure (New York: Macmillan, 1949) and S­ ilvia Ubillos, Dario Páez, and José Luis González “Culture and Sexual Behavior,” ­Psicothema, Suplemento 12: 70–82. 11 A kuman thong ‘golden doll’ (literally ‘golden boy’) is made of still-born fetuses, a black magic object originating from the ancient practice of necromancy. After a fetus is properly roasted in a ritual while monks perform incantations, the stillborn child can be invoked by sorcerers and be made to work magic. It is thought to carry the highest potency. 12 Reynolds, Power, Protection and Magic in Thailand: The Cosmos of a Southern Policeman, 121. 13 Premjai Iamkhorpung and Matthew Kosuta, “The Relationship between Buddhist and Animist Amulets in Contemporary Thailand: Phra Khrueang and Khrueang Rang,” Kasetsart Journal of Social Sciences 43 (2022): 53. 14 Ibid., 53–59. 15 The work is a collection of folktale-based poems with the setting of the Ayutthaya period. The orally transmitted poems were collected during the reign of King Rama II and were first published in 1872 by Dr. Smith’s Printing House (Satchaphan, 2008). There are many different versions with different publication dates. 16 Continuing Education, The Ministry of Education. The Book of Basic Knowledge of Thai Language. Bangkok: The Ministry of Education, 2011. (in Thai) 17 Thepsiri Suksopha, Rang Phra Ruang (Bangkok: Matichon, 2005). 18 Phanu Triwej, Dek Kamphra Haeng Suang Sawan (Bangkok: Nanmeebooks, 2006). 19 According to a Thai legend, Mother Earth regularly squeezes her wet hair and the water dropping from the hair comes down as torrential rain to wash away evils on the earth. 20 Kritakom, Athan Namman Phi (Bangkok: Nana Publisher, 2014). 21 Supsin, Jirayu, Wanchai Suktam, Atimat Permpoon, and Pisarn Phra-ngam. “Modham: A Cultural Assimilation Based on Faith, Tradition and Culture.” JHSSRRU 20 (2018): 301–314. 22 Lunchaprasith, Wiwattarangkul, and Wainipitapong, “Culture-Bound Syn drome,” 349. 23 Ibid., 349. 24 Ibid., 350, 351. 25 Matichon Daily, October 10, 2020. 26 Bureau of Registration Administration, accessed October 23, 2021, https://www. bora.dopa.go.th/CallCenter1548/index.php/menu-general/12-service-handbook/ general/31-general-rename.

162  Kultida Khammee 27 Amy Sawitta Lefevre, “Thai Police Arrest Man with Babies’ Bodies for Black Magic,” Reuters, May 18, 2012, https://www.reuters.com/article/uk-thailandcorpses-idUKBRE84H0FG20120518. 28 Amy Sawitta Lefevre, ibid. 29 “Thailand: Coup Leader Gen Prayuth Alleges Black Magic.” News from ­Elsewhere, BBC, September 15, 2014, https://www.bbc.com/news/blogs-newsfrom-elsewhere-29075681. 30 Ibid. 31 Ibid. 32 The locations of these topics in the show (on the Netflix video progress bar) are as follows: Ghosts in my bedroom 13 minutes (1:37–1:50), Encounter with ghosts at a temple 17 minutes (1:50–2:07), and My don khong pranks 18 minutes (2:07–2:25). 33 Bronislaw Malinowski, Magic, Science, and Religion and Other Essays (Selected, and with an Introduction by Robert Redfield) (Glencoe: The Free Press, 1948). 34 Reynolds, Power, Protection and Magic in Thailand: The Cosmos of a Southern Policeman, 118. 35 Bronislaw Malinowski, Magic, Science, and Religion and Other Essays (Selected, and with an Introduction by Robert Redfield), 70.

References BBC. “Thailand: Coup Leader Gen Prayuth Alleges Black Magic.” September 15, 2014. https://www.bbc.com/news/blogs-news-from-elsewhere-29075681 (accessed October 23, 2022). Bureau of Registration Administration. https://www.bora.dopa.go.th/­CallCenter1548/ index.php/menu-general/12-service-handbook/general/31-general-rename (accessed October 23, 2022). CIA. The World Factbook, Thailand. cia.gov/the-world-factbook/countries/thailand (accessed October 21, 2022). Continuing Education, The Ministry of Education. The Book of Basic Knowledge of Thai Language. Bangkok: The Ministry of Education, 2011. (in Thai) Gandour, Mary Jane and Jackson T. Gandour. A Glance at Shamanism in Southern Thailand. Bangkok: White Lotus Press, 1976. Iamkhorpung, Premjai and Matthew Kosuta. “The relationship between Buddhist and animist amulets in contemporary Thailand: Phra Khrueang and Khrueang Rang.” Kasetsart Journal of Social Sciences 43: 53–59, 2022. Khanthawit, Suwit. Heng phraiwan sut yot paramajan saiyasat kharawat ha paendin mueang sayam [Heng Praiwan: The supreme saiyasat lay master through five ­Siamese reigns]. Nonthaburi: Thana Press, 2011. Koset, Sathian [Phya Anuman Rajadhon]. “Satsana priapthiap [Comparative ­religion],” in Khropkrua Nang Samutmanirat, Anuson nang samutmanirat [In Memory of Nang Samutmanirat]. Bangkok: Sutthisan Press,1965. Kritakom. Athan Namman Phi. Bangkok: Nana Publisher, 2014. (in Thai) Kusalasaya, Karuna. Buddhism in Thailand: Its Past and Its Present. Sri Lanka: ­Buddhist Publication Society, 2005. Lefevre, Amy Sawitta. “Thai Police Arrest Man with Babies’ Bodies for Black Magic.” Reuters, May 18, 2012. https://www.reuters.com/article/uk-thailand-corpsesidUKBRE84H0FG20120518, (accessed October 23, 2022).

Don Khong in Thai Popular Culture  163 Lunchaprasith, Thanya, Teeravut Wiwattarangkul, Sorawit Wainipitapong. ­“Culture-bound syndrome.” Chula Medical Journal 65.3: 349–357. Doi: 10.14456/ clmj.2021.46, 2021. Malinowski, Bronislaw. Magic, Science, and Religion and Other Essays (Selected, and with an Introduction by Robert Redfield). Glencoe: The Free Press, 1948. McDaniel, Justin Thomas. The Lovelorn Ghost and the Magical Monk: Practicing Buddhism in Modern Thailand. New York: Columbia University Press, 2011. Murdock, George Peter. Social Structure. New York: Macmillan, 1949. Place, Robert M. Magic and Alchemy: Mysteries, Legends, and Unexplained ­Phenomena. New York: Infobase Publishing, 2009. Reynolds, Craig J. Power, Protection and Magic in Thailand: The Cosmos of a ­Southern Policeman. Acton: ANU Press, 2019. Satchaphan, Reunruethai. “Sepha Khun Chang Khun Phaen.” Journal of Letters, Silapakorn University 30.1: 41–79, 2008. Suksopha, Thepsiri. Rang Phra Ruang. Bangkok: Matichon, 2005. (in Thai) Supsin, Jirayu, Wanchai Suktam, Atimat Permpoon and Pisarn Phra-ngam. ­“Modham: A cultural assimilation based on faith, tradition and culture.” Journal of ­Humanities and Social Sciences, Surin Rajabhat University 20: 301–314, 2018. Terwiel, Barend J. “A model for the study of Thai Buddhism.” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 35.3: 391–403. Doi: 10.2307/2053271, 1976. Triwej, Phanu. Dek Kamphra Haeng Suang Sawan. Bangkok: Nanmeebooks, 2006. (in Thai) Yan, Zhilong and Aixin Zhang. “‘Ritual and magic’ in Buddhist visual culture from the bird totem.” Religions 13: 719. Doi: 10.3390/rel13080719.

8 Rethinking Amok Indigenous Identity Affirmation in Malay Legends of Southeast Asia Hannah M. Y. Ho

Introduction Amok has been used in a disparaging way to further a colonial othering of indigenous communities inhabiting the Malay world. This culture-bound syndrome that is attributed to the Malay people has not failed to seize the imagination of British explorers to Eastern parts of the world. First described by Captain Cook in his descriptions of Malay tribesmen in 1770, amok is a term that has been adopted to encapsulate the violent behavior of a Malay man who goes on a killing rampage, and whose act of running amok is put to a stop when quelled by his fellow tribesmen. In the Diagnostic and Statistics Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) IV, it is listed as a mental disorder or psychological illness attributed to primitive Eastern cultures of pre-modern times. This psychopathology manifests itself in violence, including homicidal and suicidal tendencies. Outward social destruction is an effect of this psychosomatic illness assigned to the Malay people in the East. However, as Saint-Martin points out, amok is witnessed in various societies today, thus overruling inherent associations with premodern primitive communities.1 The cultural and gendered factors do not go unnoticed and are, in fact, fundamental to the colonial discourse of amok as a culture-bound syndrome historically restricted to indigenous Malay men. The colonizer’s reductive definitions of violently wild and irrational-acting Malay men are steeped in a colonial anxiety of controlling the natives to whom oriental attributes were ascribed in stark contrast with the European colonizers’ self-assigned notions of their civility.2 This chapter seeks to dismantle the colonial discourse of amok through examining its use as a culture-bound syndrome in popular counter-narratives, including epic Malay literature and legends in short stories and television adaptations produced by the Malay people. It will investigate portrayals, and explore critical discussions, of Malay men running amok within popular cultural narratives that have captivated the imaginations of the Malay people in Southeast Asia, a region that was historically colonized by the Europeans and whose newly independent nations have since gained their political autonomy DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-11

Rethinking Amok  165 in the twentieth century. A project to build a sense of identity has since arisen as national, local, and cultural identity productions become central to a process of nation-building. Cultural responses from Malaysia – as the center of the Malay world – and Brunei Darussalam are dealt with in this chapter, which analyzes the epic Malay story of Hang Jebat alongside the Bruneian Malay folklore of “Alip and Ikas” that began as oral narratives, but have been written for a literary audience and adapted for a television audience in modern times. Such popular cultural productions of men running amok invite a reconfiguration of the simplistic description of amok as a culturebound syndrome. To this end, psychopolitical and psychosocial dimensions of amok that are often under-examined and, frequently, glossed over in a rhetorical strategy to reinforce a superior position of the white (neo)colonizer who has appropriated amok as a culture-bound syndrome will be addressed. This chapter challenges the idea of Malay primitivism by exposing such a devaluation of Malay social order and structure as a cultural stereotype that is instantiated in the reduction of amok to justify European colonial expansion. Modern exemplifications and cultural reinterpretations of the Malay man who runs amok, otherwise known as the pengamok, warrant a consideration of the internal dynamics of the Malay family and society within which the Malay man plays a collectivist rather than individualist role, which the colonizer has dismissed. Along this line, two forms of amok are addressed in popular culture. Firstly, its associations with personal loss are discussed to understand the motivations of the Malay man who runs amok. Secondly, the rage directed at a larger society is accounted for when studying Malay legendary men who are type-casted as traitors. Through a counter-analysis, this chapter offers an invitation to rethink the (mis)use of amok that has been employed to vilify and reduce the Malay people to a psycho-pathogenic illness bound to their cultural identity, especially a supposed primitivism. The Malay World: Malay Indigenous Identity in Malaysia and Brunei Darussalam The Malay world or Dunia Melayu is historically used to refer to geographical territories of the Malay Peninsula and its vicinities, which subsume several thousands of islands including Indonesia and the Philippines comprising the Nusantara or Malay Archipelago inhabited by Malay people. As the center of Malay indigenous identity, Malacca/Malaya has established its superior position through its historical documentation and pre/modern literature that define Malay identity through the Malay language, customs, and Islamic religion. The imbrication of Malay ethnicity and Muslim spiritual beliefs assigned to the indigenous concept of Malayness is evident in Malaysia and Brunei Darussalam, whose national ideologies are premised on Malay indigeneity and Muslim subjectivity. Contrary to this stable concept of Malay racial identity as encompassing Malay-speaking and Muslim subjects,

166  Hannah M. Y. Ho the Malay world has also experienced diversity and embraced inclusivity. ­Contemporary theorizations of the Malay world have sought to define the Malay world through mutable cultural geographies to embrace multilingual and multiethnic communities, which challenge the fixedness and prescriptiveness of established notions of a Malay Muslim hegemonic power in this region that is known as the Malay world.3 British Malaya, as it was identified during its colonization, existed for over a century from 1826 to 1957. Once independent, the Federation of Malaya was replaced by the Federation of Malaysia in 1963. Historical Malacca, which is situated in the present-day Malay Peninsula/West Malaysia, has been established as a formidable center for the production of the Malay Muslim identity. Amongst historians and literary writers, scholars of Malay Muslim discourses have attributed prominence to the Malay Peninsula in generating dominant ideas of Malay Muslim identity. For one, the Sulalatus Salatin or Sejarah Melayu as a key historical document traces the history of a feudal Malacca with a Malay monarchy in the fifteenth century. Furthermore, several works of epic literature known as Hikayats were also written over the years in order to narrate important historical events and teach the Malay people about their cultural origins and values. Situated on Borneo island, Brunei Darussalam shares its national borders with parts of East Malaysia. With a British protectorate system implemented from 1888 to 1984, local affairs and domestic religious activities were excluded from the purview of British colonial administrators. Contrasted to Malaysia, the Malay indigenous people (“puak jati”) in Brunei Darussalam comprise seven ethnic groups of the Brunei Malay, Tutong, Belait, Bisaya, Kedayan, Dusun, and Murut.4 These Malay people make up the dominant group constituting 66% of the total population.5 Significantly, the cultural bearers of Malay Muslim identity comprise men within local spheres of the nation.6 Goals of cultural localization of Malay Muslim identity have been evident, especially so after national independence was gained.7 The state ideology of Melayu Islam Beraja (MIB or Malay Islamic Monarchy) was declared upon political independence on 1 January 1984 as the national philosophy.8 Prior to its official introduction, MIB arguably existed as a way of life since the fourteenth century in Brunei Darussalam.9 Amok: Colonial (Mis)appropriation of a Culture-Bound Syndrome Historically, amok has been used to serve the colonial project. Its recorded origins have been attributed to the colonizer’s biased definitions of violent and vindictive men from an exclusively Malay background. According to Syed Muhd Khairudin Aljunied, the amok phenomenon “becomes widespread upon the imposition of European rule in the Malay world.”10 S­ imilarly, the colonial construction of amok highlights a European anxiety over their forms of control. In “Colony, Nation, and Globalisation,” Eddie Tay explicates that amok is “a colonialist motif [and] trope that seeks to create an environment

Rethinking Amok  167 hospitable to the colonial enterprise.”11 Furthermore, Wu underscores the colonial discourse of amok as “a pattern of indiscriminate, homicidal behavior supposedly observed mainly amongst Malay-Muslim men.”12 As a strategic discourse to support the colonial project, amok has been historically appropriated to push a colonial agenda through a process of an othering of the indigenous people in colonized lands. As a Malay linguistic term, “amuk” (amok) carries sociocultural nuances that are conveniently snubbed by colonizers. The portrayal of a Malay community as “bestial” and “uncivilized” is evident in European explorers’ and administrators’ writings of Malay men who run amok. In “The Real Malay” (1907), Frank Swettenham’s account of the “blind fury” of the Malay man who is “intolerant of insult or slight,” which “is something that to him should be wiped out in unbearable blood,”13 reduces an observation of one man’s external act of bloodshed as the manifestation of the real or authentic Malay. This negative representation of the barbaric Malay man is passed off as the true version of the Malays, which isolates the non-white community through a controlled narrative of amok. Swettenham’s misrepresentation of the affronted Malay man who “broods over a real or fancied stain on his honour until he is possessed by the desire for revenge”14 identifies the cause of amok as wounded pride that is triggered by rivalry, not hubristic pride instigated by high levels of success and knowledge. In fact, the latter is explored in contemporary Bruneian instantiations of amok, as will be discussed. Swettenham’s further writings also perpetuate primitive stereotypes of the Malays through representations of their uncontrolled violence.15 These stereotypes reject the sociocultural motivations of the Malay people, which Malaysian cultural writings and popular retellings of amok have otherwise tapped into as part of efforts to contextualize and decolonize knowledge production of amok. Through a postcolonial counter-discourse, “amuk” is reclaimed to enact a “civilizing [of] the centre.”16 Moreover, colonial representations define amok in fundamental contrast to the white man. The then British colonial administrator Hugh Clifford spoke of knowing “several [Malays] who ran amok, when a white man, under similar circumstances, would not improbably have taken his own life.”17 His description of the Malays in Malaya (as it was known before achieving its political independence on 16 September 1963) heightens the superiority of the Western man who is seen as a stark contrast to the Malay man in terms of their racial difference. Edward Said’s theory of orientalism can be brought to bear on the fraught relationship between the West and East. He states that it is “a relationship of power, of domination, of varying degrees of a complex hegemony.”18 The disjunction between the colonizer and colonized produces a political, not pure, knowledge. Hence, the colonialist trope of amok reinforces “a system of knowledge about the Orient”19 for Western imperialists to maintain control over Eastern people. However, the term amok has been gaining traction as a non-culture-­specific condition since the end of British colonialism.20 As colonies achieved their

168  Hannah M. Y. Ho political independence, there was a concerted focus on national processes of decolonization to dismantle colonial authority over non-white communities through prescriptive narratives that tended to devalue and diminish their identities. Orientalized discourses of Eastern people and their territories were subsequently challenged to unsettle Western imperial power and its colonial legacies. As Wu explicates, Colonial attempts to understand amok were founded upon an inherently occidental framework of analysis, which saw Malay violence not as culturally-sanctioned but as an affirmation of the primitive character of native men silently churning beneath their self-effacing and timid veneers.21 A colonial (mis)appropriation of the term of amok that continues to view the Malays as uncivilized natives perpetuates an orientalizing of indigenous people who inhabit the Malay world. Consequently, Wu points out the devaluation of Malay culture and society during colonialism. Discriminated based on their race (non-white) and gender (feminized), Malay men are disparaged as embodiments of a “contrasting image, idea, personality, experience”22 from Europe, whose authority lies in the “greater strength of the Occident (British, French, or American).”23 Hence, a distinction between Malay backwardness and European superiority was established in orientalist discourses of amok as a culture-bound syndrome of the Malay people. Malay Folklores in the Postcolonial Period: Legendary Malaysian and Bruneian Figures The Malay folklores analyzed in this chapter comprise oral legends that permeate within the Malay world. However, they have also been popularly adapted into other mediums for a wider reception. These legends shape the collective consciousness of the Malay people, as attested in the avid productions of legends disseminated through multimedia platforms. Emerging first as oral narratives, these legendary stories have since been developed into retellings for the radio, television, cinema or film, and stage. While the ­Malaysian legendary figure of Hang Jebat is traced back to Sejarah Melayu (The Malay Annals) written in the late sixteenth century, the story of Alip and Ikas is a Bruneian oral folklore originating from a village named ­Kampong Lugu. Popularized through the local media, Malaysian and Bruneian narratives of amok invite a rethinking of this culture-bound syndrome for audiences living within the postcolonial period. It would be useful at this point to offer brief summaries of these legendary stories. Hang Jebat is member of a loyal band of Malay warriors who answers only to the Malay king, also known as the Raja or Sultan. Along with his best friend called Hang Tuah, he maintains the peace and social order of the Malay community in Malacca. However, when Hang Tuah goes missing and

Rethinking Amok  169 is reportedly killed, Hang Jebat decides to avenge the presumed death of his best friend and expose the tyranny of the Malay king. In the story of Alip and Ikas, these eponymous men are both ambitious in acquiring various forms of cultural knowledge. Their sense of empowerment through their cultural competence becomes evident through their practice of religious knowledge. Nonetheless, Ikas eventually runs amok and is succumbed by Alip. Living during the height of the Malaccan Empire in the fourteenth century, Hang Jebat epitomizes the Malaysian subject who is under the rule of a Malay king. His existence in the precolonial Sultanate of Malacca necessitated a Malay people’s loyalty to their Raja or Sultan by feudal law. Amok is illustrated as Hang Jebat transforms from one who fends off pengamoks to running amok himself. The Malay Annals describe the moment he runs amok: “Maka Hang Jebat kesiangan di dalam istana, lalu ia hendak mengamuk.” (“Hang Jebat began to run amok in the palace.”)24 Hang Jebat has regularly impressed upon the Malay social imagination in popular retellings of his story of amok within the postcolonial period. His act of running amok in the palace grounds has captured the attention of literary writers, playwrights, and film producers who seek to offer his backstory. As a legendary character, Hang Jebat features in the early eighteenth-century epic literature entitled Hikayat Hang Tuah (“The Legend of Hang Tuah”),25 which has often been used in history lessons to teach about Malaccan history. The representation of Hang Jebat’s act of amok has received its fair share of critical responses. At the time of its publication, Hang Jebat was viewed as an antagonist to Hang Tuah who was celebrated for his unrelenting loyalty to the Raja. ­However, the conceptualizations of amok are increasingly becoming fluid in changing postcolonial societies. As scholars point out, “the concept of amok changes depending on the history of society and the knowledge and intention of people at the time.”26 Thomas Williamson has also written that amok functions as a “social phenomenon”27 reflecting historical moments. The shifting meanings of amok over time reflect changing sociopolitical and cultural agendas. European discourses of amok that reduce Malay identity along a self/other binary justified geopolitical processes of colonization as the Western man assumed the position of subject while the Malay people were collectively objectified. That an antagonist who runs amok is regarded as a pahlawan (Malay warrior) is, at once, transgressive and transformative. Firstly, it challenges the (mis)conception of amok as a form of psychosis suffered exclusively by Malay villains. This madness attributed to the East that colonizers ascribe to Malay people is dismantled through the idea of national heroism.28 Secondly, Hang Jebat’s characterization as a formidable warrior transcends imagined boundaries of heroism for a modern Malay society whose nationalism is precipitated on a horizontal brotherhood to assert democratic ideals of identity. The reclamation of amok in instantiations of Hang Jebat within popular media culture also resonates with a Malay audience keen to decolonize knowledge, decenter Western representations and dismantle Malay stereotypes.

170  Hannah M. Y. Ho In contemporary representations of amok on television, cinema, short ­stories, and bangsawan (Malay theatre), a nationalistic identity of independent Malaysia is affirmed. At the same time, indigenous identity affirmation occurs when reframing Hang Jebat as a Malay patriot. That this Malay man is no longer vilified signals a positive reclamation of his Malay indigeneity, which was not possible with a colonial characterization of his “amok” as an embodiment of primitivism and motiveless insanity. In his analysis of Hang Jebat’s characterization, Kassim Ahmad argues that “He is a national revolution[ary] in his way of thought. Therefore, we could call him as [sic] an apostle and the warrior of Malay nationalism.”29 Hence, modern cultural representations and reception of Hang Jebat overturned colonial discourses of amok. Contemporary reproductions of Hang Jebat’s story are thus conscious of repositioning Hang Jebat’s narrative as a product of a postcolonial zeitgeist. The cultural reproductions of Hang Jebat’s story discussed in this chapter were first released in the early 1960s, during the immediate aftermath of Malaya’s political independence from British colonial rule on 31 August 1957. When portraying the character of Hang Jebat, Malaysian writers tap into an anti-colonial impulse to deconstruct notions of primitivism historically attached to Malay men who run amok. Democratic ideals to challenge various hegemonic powers during the Raja’s feudalistic rule and British colonial rule in Malaya (1826–1957) have since gained urgency with Malay writers and local audiences. Modern rewritings have sought to delineate Hang Jebat as a national hero “who stands for truth, justice, and loyalty”30 within his Malay society. Hang Jebat is a champion for the destitute masses via, ironically, his political subversion of the Raja’s authority. Upon the publication of Hikayat Hang Tuah, the story of Hang Jebat running amok was relayed as a cautionary tale about the fatal consequences of treason. ­Contemporary adaptations have, however, reframed this narrative of amok as the vindication of the patriotic Malay man, whose desire for an independent Malay society trumps the status hierarchy asserted by the ruler. Likewise, Bruneian Malay legends write back to the colonial discourse of othering. If “violent processes of othering”31 inform colonial paradigms, the violent stereotyping of the Malay people denotes colonial impulses manifested within European historical writings. Malay legendary writings produced in Brunei Darussalam subvert this reductive narrative through their contemporary retellings. For one, the story of Alip dan Ikas has been arranged into a docuseries produced and aired by the state television channel Radio Television Brunei (RTB) since 2010. Geared at a daytime television audience, the story of Ikas who runs amok is beamed to all houses with access to local television channels in Brunei Darussalam. The legendary myth has been dramatized as a story to introduce audiences to Kampong Lugu in Mukim Sengkurong (the township of Sengkurong). In addition, this myth is an integral part of the rich folklore available to multiple generations in the Bruneian community. In his interview in 2009 with a local Malay academic Maslin Jukim, the village chief (ketua kampong) Haji Kahar Nayan orally

Rethinking Amok  171 relayed the story of Alip and Ikas. In addition to a television docuseries under the guidance of Maslin Jukim, this story has been adapted in an anthology of Bruneian short stories entitled Legenda: Di mana tu ah? (Legends: Where could that be?) published in 2021.

Figure 8.1 The front cover of Maslin Jukim’s anthology featuring the short story of “Alip and Ikas”

172  Hannah M. Y. Ho Analysis: Indigenous Identity Affirmation in Hang Jebat and Ikas In this section, a critical examination of modern-day adaptations of cultural narratives of Hang Jebat and Ikas who present the syndrome of amok is offered. A detailed discussion of the way that characterizations of amok in popular culture reject colonial definitions of the Malay man as the primitive other is included. Malaysian and Bruneian narratives debunk the myth propagated in The Real Malay (1907) that overlooks Malay systems of social order. When Frank Swettenham states that “a Malay […] will strike out at the first human being that comes his way, male or female, young or old,”32 a colonial myth of Malays as inherently violent, self-destructive, and indiscriminately hostile is sustained. In their literary and audiovisual adaptations, Malay legends reject presuppositions of insane, irrational, and depraved Malays. In spite of his running amok, Hang Jebat has been reconfigured as a Malaysian hero in modern-day adaptations. This characterization of an ­ intelligent man who cares for his larger society and champions the cause of underprivileged masses is demonstrated in radio plays, theatre, and film adaptations. These include Ali Aziz’s radio play Tragedi Hang Tuah (1958), which was also produced as a stage play and retitled Hang Jebat ­Menderhaka, ­Hussain Haniff’s motion picture Hang Jebat (1961) by Cathay Keris ­Production House, and Usman Ahamd’s stage play Matinya Seorang Pahlawan (“The Death of a Malay Warrior”) in the 1960s that inspired Anwardi Jamil to write Tuah (1989) and spawned screenplays aired on Radio Television Malaysia (RTM) in the 1990s. These adaptations offer a more nuanced narrative of Hang Jebat that does not simply condemn him for his amok-rebellion, which is disputed as an insane motiveless deed. In Hussain Haniff’s cinematic production of Hang Jebat, Malaysian actor Nordin Ahmad plays the eponymous protagonist who is cast as the hero of the Malay people (“rakyat”). Departing from the colonial rhetoric of the Malay man who runs amok due to his primitivism, this adaptation sets up the eponymous Malay man as one who takes action against the unjust political hierarchy in the Malacca Sultanate. Furthermore, his deep discontentment with the Raja for forcing his best friend Hang Tuah into exile prompts him to seek social change. He declares despondently, “Mengapa Raja hukum bunuh?” (“Why has the Sultan decreed his death?”)33 Instead of outright revenge, justice motivates his physical attacks on those who keep watch in the palace. As Kasim Ahmad argues, Hang Jebat becomes a prophet for Malay nationalism.34 ­Contrary to representations of his tempestuous rage, twentieth-century productions foreground Hang Jebat’s loyalty to the people. He seeks freedom from a despotic king (“raja zalim”) whose claims to an absolute rule must be repudiated (“disanggah”).35 Though “not a hero of his era,”36 popular adaptations of Hang Jebat challenge his portrayal as a foolish pengamok. If reinterpretations of myths “participat[e] in an act of history-making,”37 then popular retellings of legends of amok in popular media culture subsume

Rethinking Amok  173 attempts to rewrite history for destabilizing the colonial dominant discourse of amok. In Hussain Haniff’s film entitled Hang Jebat produced by Cathay Keris in 1961, Malaysian actor Nordin Ahmad who plays the eponymous character Hang Jebat is cast as a champion of his people, rather than a self-consumed antagonist who is indiscriminately vindictive. In this film adaptation, Hang Jebat is cast as one who is determined to challenge the tyranny of the Malay king. He vows to return the people’s property and possessions claimed by the Raja to the Malay people: “Ini hak rakyat. Aku akan kembalikan kepada rakyat.” (“These belong to the people. I shall return these to them.”)38 Rather than suffering from wounded pride, Hang Jebat is filled with humility when declaring that he is just an ordinary citizen. He announces to the Malay people, “Aku bukan gila disembah. Aku Jebat, rakyat biasa. Pangkat aku untuk kepentingan rakyat.” (“Do not worship me. I am [Hang] Jebat, an ordinary person. My role is to serve your needs.”)39 Dissatisfied with the injustices of the status hierarchy wherein the Raja assumes absolute authority, Hang Jebat’s anger is palpable in his utterances. The scene where he addresses the people culminates with his unequivocal assertion of an irrefutable desire for justice: “Aku mahu keadilan. Keadilan.” (“I desire fairness.”)40 History is rewritten in modern-day film adaptations that invite audiences to rethink the colonial term of the amok, not so much as an impulsive and boastful act but epitomizing real struggles of self-sacrificing goals. Colonial prescriptions of the primitive Malay man who runs amok are overturned in such postcolonial adaptations of Hang Jebat, who cares about social equality and has the capacity to identify problems of inequity within hierarchical social structures. His (sub)servi(en)ce to his Malay community is evident when articulating his aims of social justice while neither craving for self-glory nor provoked by a rival’s challenge. While Hussain Haniff’s film underscores Hang Jebat’s impulse for democratic ideals of citizenship, a Bruneian instantiation of amok that is presented in indigenous tales of Malay Muslim men of Kampong Lugu highlights the psychopolitical and psychosocial elements undergirding intricate race and gender roles in a Brunei Malay community. Literary writings and audiovisual televised productions of the Bruneian story of amok signal an urgent need to disseminate stories about cultural identity and indigenous identification too. Modern-day retellings encompass the Malay people’s rich oral tradition, narrative rewritings for the literate, and audiovisual dramatizations that capture the vivid imaginations of a wider audience to teach about a Malay people’s identity through an emphasis on reclaiming cultural narratives. Three modes of popular cultural productions have been used to adapt the narrative of Ikas who runs amok – oral history, literary renderings in short stories, and a televised docuseries. This multimodal portrayal of the pengamok reaches out to a wider audience to serve a nation’s postcolonial revision of a Europeandictated history of Malay primitivism in the Malay world. In the story of Alip dan Ikas, Ikas is faced with ethical and moral dilemmas within a sociopolitical sphere informed by his rivalry with Alip. As bearers

174  Hannah M. Y. Ho of Malay Muslim identity, both men are entrusted with the responsibility to uphold cultural and ethnic ideologies in which men assume leadership roles in the society and nation. Alip and Ikas’ upward mobility is achieved through their gains in cultural knowledge that also signify hallmarks of their masculinity that position them as male authorities of Malay Muslim identity. ­Commenting on this gender-exclusive gatekeeping of Malay Muslim identity, Ho writes that men’s “failure as sons and husbands in their Malay-Muslim collectivist roles negatively affects women’s identity.”41 A moral responsibility to serve gendered roles in the family is intimately shaped by cultural notions of Malay identity and the acquisition of Muslim knowledge in the MIB nation. A reconfiguration of the pengamok as a tragic hero rather than an antihero is palpable in revised stories of the Malay man who runs amok. In his study of Malaysian Salleh Ben Joned’s absurdist play The Amok of Mat Solo (2011), Andrew Ng states that “amok is fundamentally triggered by his wife’s taunt that he is not ‘a real man.’” 42 In the weak man who is also intimated as a fake man, a threat to his masculinity is presented. As addressed in the short story Alip and Ikas, it is masculinity that is at stake in their rivalry to affirm their masculinity within their Malay society. With the stark absence of female characters from this Bruneian story of amok, the men augment their masculinity through their pursuit of ilmu (or knowledge): “ilmu yang diperolehinya seperti ilmu persilatan, ilmu kekebalan, ilmu batin dan sebagainya. Ikas rajin berlatih menggunakan segala ilmunya” (“the knowledge that he acquired included the Malay martial art of silat, spiritual experiences, and many more. Ikas worked diligently to apply all his knowledge”).43 If amok represents “the protagonist’s endeavor to protest the remaining vestige of identity—his masculinity,”44 then Ikas’ act of amok is not just an act of retaliating against colonial definitions of Malay subordination but also one that denotes his attempt to salvage his position of male leadership in the Malay village. Furthermore, his “death sought or achieved through an attack upon innocents [articulates] a positive […] meaning.”45 This signals Ikas’ status as a tragic hero, rather than an anti-hero who is ultimately defeated in death. Furthermore, indigenous identity affirmation occurs within literary adaptations of Ikas’ story to protest against the muted and peripheral position of the Malay man as an unprovoked perpetrator of violence. Challenging Clifford’s description that “all Malays have the greatest horror of suicide, […] but I have known several who ran amok,” the story of Ikas serves as a reminder of the pitfalls of colonial stereotypes. Ostensibly conforming to reductive ideas of Malay men’s violence, the narrative crucially offers determining factors and intrinsic motivations behind Ikas’ sense of loss and subsequent rage at himself and the larger society. One reason cited in the story for Ikas turning amok is his lack of humility, as he acquires Malay Muslim cultural knowledge for himself. While Alip “suka merendah diri” (“was modest”),46 Ikas’ flaw is an inflated ego due to his competence. It becomes evident that Ikas’ downfall is caused by a lack of communal responsibility that is the bedrock of Malay civilized society, relevant for postcolonial processes of democratization and leadership roles within a Malay Muslim nation.

Rethinking Amok  175 Significantly, the story of Alip and Ikas addresses affirmation processes that are vital to the decolonizing project. Firstly, as a narrative that is transmitted from the older to younger generations, it integrates a cautionary tale of a loss of identity in narrating fatal consequences of losing one’s “ilmu batin” (inner strength based on Islamic cultural knowledge). This loss encompasses the first kind of amok, which is related to a personal deficiency as a result of setting unrealistic ambitions. From the start, Ikas is depicted as a hardworking man who is in fervent pursuit of cultural knowledge, such as his dedication to the martial art of silat originating from the Nusantara and its geo-cultural locales of Southeast Asia. His pursuit for self-betterment makes him a figure of envy but is subsequently replaced by the villagers’ fear. Secondly, he becomes stricken with a disease of the bile that affects his temperament, thus becoming an embodiment of great violence. This is the second form of amok manifesting itself through rage. As the omniscient narrator explains, “Kesan dari hempedunya yang pecah, Ikas telah mengamuk [amok] dan membunuh sesiapa saja yang menghalanginya” (“Ikas ran amok and killed anyone who stood in his way”).47 Here, the Standard Malay term of “amuk” describes his rage as a response to loss caused by hubristic pride due to his ambition exceeding his ability. Consequently, the Bruneian story of Alip and Ikas seeks to reclaim amok through its nuanced contextualization of the Malay term. Disputing the embodiment of blind fury, the legendary figure of Ikas who runs amok epitomizes the imbrications between the gendered roles of Malay Muslim men and their cultural advancement in postcolonial times. To borrow the term employed by postcolonial theorist Partha Chatterjee, these men seek the “spiritual dimension”48 in forging the indigenous or cultural identity of the nation in the postcolonial period. In their knowledge acquisition, they focus on developing “an ‘inner’ domain bearing the ‘essential’ marks of cultural identity.”49 As a representation of the ambitious local Malay man, Ikas’ pursuit of the highest standards of cultural knowledge offers an important ­backstory to his anger. Ikas who originates from the Malay village of Kampong Lugu shares the goals of fellow village man Alip to strive towards higher spiritual ideals within their Malay Muslim society. These intrinsic forms of cultural knowledge shape the non-material or spiritual dimension of the independent nation. The reclamation of Malay culture is evident in the men’s pursuit of intrinsic knowledge for bolstering their Malay and Muslim identity, wherein they serve as the bearers and guardians. An Ongoing Affirmation of Malay Identity in Popular Legends To sum up, the Malay world’s process of decolonizing the psychopolitical and psychosocial condition of amuk (that has been anglicized to amok) subsumes a necessary contextualization of this behavior in terms of sociocultural nuances of Malay life, which include democratic aims and cultureoriented ambitions. As portrayed within contemporary dramatizations and media adaptations, Malay figures who run amok are furnished with a crucial

176  Hannah M. Y. Ho backstory that was previously denied to them within colonial historical ­narratives. Popular cultural modes are important platforms for advancing challenges against orientalist ideas of Malay identity that served the colonial project. As the Malaysian story of Hang Jebat and Bruneian tale about Ikas illustrate, indigenous identity affirmation occurs through media usage to reclaim Malay tales of amok for a postcolonial audience. Consequently, the subversion of the colonial view of amok as a culture-bound syndrome results in a vital reconfiguring of established norms that are subsequently exposed as a myth that is politically driven by colonial authorities. Notes 1 Manuel L. Saint-Martin, “Running Amok: A Modern Perspective on a CultureBound Syndrome,” The Primary Care Companion to The Journal of Clinical Psychiatry 1, no. 3 (1999): 66–70. 2 Eddie Tay. Colony, Nation, and Globalisation: Not at Home in Singaporean and Malaysian Literature (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2011), 26. 3 Sumit K. Mandal, “Cultural Geographies of the Malay World: Textual Trajectories in the Indian Ocean,” Philological Encounters 1, no. ¼ (2016): 370–395. See also Tim Harper, “Afterword: The Malay World, Besides Empire and Nation,” Indonesia and the Malay World 41, no. 120 (2013): 273–290; Victor T. King, “Culture and Identity on the Move: Malaysian Nationhood in Southeast Asia,” in Discourses, Agency and Identity in Malaysia, eds. Zawawi Ibrahim, Gareth Richards and Victor T. King (Singapore: Springer, 2021), 23–57; Gareth Richards, “The Travelling Text: Manuscripts, Print Culture and Translation in the Making of the Malay World,” in Discourses, Agency and Identity in Malaysia, eds. Zawawi Ibrahim, Gareth Richards and Victor T. King (Singapore: Springer, 2021), 59–103. 4 David Deterding and Hannah Ming Yit Ho. “An Overview of Language, Literature and Culture,” In Engaging Modern Brunei: Research on Language, Literature and Culture, eds. Hannah Ming Yit Ho and David Deterding (Singapore: Springer, 2021), 7. 5 Debbie Guan Eng Ho and Hannah Ming Yit Ho. “Ethnic Identity and the Southeast Asian Chinese: Voices from Brunei.” In Contesting Chineseness: Ethnicity, Identity, and Nation in China and Southeast Asia (Singapore: Springer, 2021), 156. 6 Hannah Ming Yit Ho, “Women Doing Malayness in Brunei Darussalam,” Southeast Asian Review of English 56, no. 2 (2019): 148. 7 Hannah Ming Yit Ho. “Localisation of Malay Muslim Identity in Brunei ­Darussalam: A Modern Nation’s Cultural and Economic Goals.” In Engaging Modern Brunei: Research on Language, Literature and Culture, eds. Hannah Ming Yit Ho and David Deterding (Singapore: Springer, 2021), 127–144. 8 Hannah Ming Yit Ho, “Beyond Intractability: Muslim Women Negotiating Identities in Brunei Darussalam.” In Muslim Women’s Writing from across South and Southeast Asia, eds. Feroza Jussawalla and Doaa Omran (New York and London: Routledge, 2023), 240. 9 Asbol Mail et al., Melayu Islam Beraja: The Malay Islamic Monarchy in Brunei Darussalam Prior to 1906 A Historical Study (Bandar Seri Begawan: Brunei History Centre, 2019). 10 Syed Muhd Khairudin Aljunied, “A Theory of Colonialism in the Malay World,” Postcolonial Studies 14, no. 1 (2011): 18.

Rethinking Amok  177 11 Tay, 16. 12 Jialin Christina Wu. “Disciplining Native Masculinities: Colonial Violence in Malaya, ‘Land of the Pirate and the Amok’.” In Violence, Colonialism and Empire in the Modern World, eds. Philip Dwyer and Amanda Nettelbeck (London and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018), 176. 13 Frank Athelstance Swettenham, The Real Malay (London: John Lane, 1907), 4. 14 Swettenham, The Real Malay, 3. 15 Frank Athelstance Swettenham, Malay Sketches. Kuala Lumpur: Silverfish Books, 2016. (Original work published 1895). 16 Zawawi Ibrahim, “Postcolonial Indigenous Storytellers and the Making of a Counter-discourse to the ‘Civilising Process’ in Malaysia.” In Discourse, Agency and Identity in Malaysia, eds. Zawawi Ibrahim, Gareth Richards and Victor T. King (Singapore: Springer, 2021), 429. 17 Hugh Clifford, In Court and Kampong (Kuala Lumpur: Silverfish Books, 2016) (Original work published 1897), 74. 18 Edward Said, Orientalism (New York: Pantheon Books, 1978), 13. 19 Said, 14. 20 Arboleda-Florez, 1979; Arboleda-Florez, 2012; Kon, 1994; Martin, 1999. 21 Wu, 176. 22 Said, 10. 23 Said, 12. 24 Samad Ahmad. A., Sulalatus Salatin (Sejarah Melayu) (Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1979), 129. 25 See also Kassim Bin Ahmad, ed. Hikayat Hang Tuah (4th edition) (Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1973). 26 Imai et al., “Amok: A Mirror of Time and People. A Historical Review of Literature,” History of Psychiatry 30, no. 1 (2018): 38. 27 Thomas Williamson, “Communicating Amok in Malaysia,” Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power 14, no. 3 (2007): 342. 28 Foong Soon Seng and Gheeta Chandran, “Madness of the East: Demystifying the Colonialist Perspective,” New Literaria 1, no. 2 (November-December 2020): 110–118. 29 Kassim Bin Ahmad. Characterisation in Hikayat Hang Tuah: A General Survey of Character Portrayal and Analysis and Interpretation of the Characters of Hang Tuah and Hang Jebat (Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1966), 37. 30 Masturah Alatas, “Quaderni della Sezione Linguistica del Dipartimento di Studi su Mutamento Sociale, Istituzioni Giuridiche e Comunicazione (English translation).” Heteroglossia: Università degli Studi di Macerata, 2009: 37. 31 Ho, Hannah Ming Yit, “The Violence of Othering and (Non-)Indigenous Revival,” Southeast Asian Review of English 57, no. 1 (2020): 55. 32 Swettenham, The Real Malay, 4. 33 Hussain Haniff, Dir., Hang Jebat. Written by Ali Aziz. Singapore: Cathay-Keris Production. 2003. 34 Kassim, Characterisation, 37. 35 Usman Ahmad, dir. Matinya Seorang Pahlawan (Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, Kementerian Pendidikan Malaysia, 1992). Hang Jebat’s full utterance is “Raja adil raja disembah, raja zalim raja disanggah” (“A fair king is revered, a cruel one is refuted”). 36 Kassim, Characterisation, 37. 37 Rusaslina, Binti Idrus, “Multicultural Hang Tuah: Cybermyth and Popular History Making in Malaysia,” Indonesia and the Malay World 44, no. 129 (2016): 229. 38 Hussain, Hang Jebat.

178  Hannah M. Y. Ho 39 Ibid. 40 Ibid. 41 Hannah Ming Yit Ho, “Women Doing Malayness,” 148. 42 Andrew Hock Soon Ng. “The Absurdist Imagination and Its Indigenization in Salleh Bin Joned’s The Amok of Mat Solo.” In Reading Malaysian Literature in English, ed. Muhammad Quayum (Singapore: Springer, 2021), 109. 43 Maslin Jukim, “Alip dan Ikas,” In Legenda: Di Mana Tu Ah? (Bandar Seri Begawan: Ezy Printing, 2021), 96. 44 Ng, 109. 45 Robert Winzeler, “Amok: Historical, Psychological and Cultural Perspectives.” In Emotions of Culture: A Malay Perspective, ed. Wazir Jahan Karin (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990), 100. 46 Maslin, 97. 47 Ibid. 48 Partha, Chatterjee, “Whose Imagined Community.” In Mapping the Nation, ed. Gopal Balakrishnan (London: Verso, 1996), 217. 49 Ibid.

References Alatas, M. “Quaderni della Sezione Linguistica del Dipartimento di Studi su ­Mutamento Sociale, Istituzioni Giuridiche e Comunicazione (English translation).” Heteroglossia: Università degli Studi di Macerata, 2009. Arboleda-Florez, J. “Amok.” Bulletin of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law 7, no. 3 (1979): 286–295. Arboleda-Florez, J. “Amok.” In Culture Bound Syndromes, Edited by Ronald C. Simons and Charles C. Hughes, 251–262. Dordrecht: D. Reidel, 2012. Asbol bin Hj Mail, Haji Ampuan Haji Brahim bin Ampuan Haji Tengah, Nani ­Suryani Binti Haji Abu Bakar, Hajah Asiyah Az Zahra Binti Haji Ahmad Kumpoh, and Haji Tassim Bin Hj Abu Bakar. Melayu Islam Beraja: The Malay Islamic Monarchy in Negara Brunei Darussalam prior to 1906: A Historical Study. Bandar Seri Begawan: Persatuan Sejarah Brunei, 2019. Chatterjee, Partha. “Whose imagined community?” In Mapping the Nation, ­214–225. Edited by Gopal Balakrishnan. London: Verso, 1996. Clifford, Hugh. In Court and Kampong. Kuala Lumpur: Silverfish Books, 2016. (Original work published 1897). Deterding, David and Hannah Ming Yit Ho. “An Overview of Language, Literature and Culture.” In Engaging Modern Brunei: Research on Language, Literature and Culture, 1–17. Edited by Hannah Ming Yit Ho and David Deterding. Singapore: Springer, 2021. Foong, Soon Seng and Gheeta Chandran. “Madness of the East: Demystifying the Colonialist Perspective.” New Literaria 1, no. 2 (November-December 2020): ­110–118. https://dx.doi.org/10.48189/nl.2020.v01i2.022. Harper, Tim. “Afterword: The Malay World, Besides Empire and Nation.” Indonesia and the Malay World 41, no. 120 (2013): 273–290. Ho, Debbie Guan Eng and Hannah Ming Yit Ho. “Ethnic Identity and the Southeast Asian Chinese: Voices from Brunei.” In Contesting Chineseness: Ethnicity, Identity, and Nation in China and Southeast Asia, 149–166. Singapore: Springer, 2021. Ho, Hannah Ming Yit. “Women Doing Malayness in Brunei Darussalam.” Southeast Asian Review of English 56, no. 2 (2019): 147–165.

Rethinking Amok  179 Ho, Hannah Ming Yit. “The Violence of Othering and (Non-)Indigenous Revival.” Southeast Asian Review of English 57, no. 1 (2020): 55–79. Ho, Hannah Ming Yit. “Localisation of Malay Muslim Identity in Brunei ­Darussalam: A Modern Nation’s Cultural and Economic Goals.” In Engaging Modern Brunei: Research on Language, Literature and Culture, 127–144. Edited by Hannah Ming Yit Ho and David Deterding. Singapore: Springer, 2021. Ho, Hannah Ming Yit. “Beyond Intractability: Muslim Women Negotiating ­Identities in Brunei Darussalam.” In Muslim Women’s Writing from across South and Southeast Asia, 240–251. Edited by Feroza Jussawalla and Doaa Omran. New York and London: Routledge, 2023. Hussain, Bin Haniff. Director. Hang Jebat. Written by Ali Aziz. Singapore: CathayKeris Production, 2003. Imai, Hissei, Yusuke Ogawa, Kiyohito Okumiya and Kozo Matsubayashi. “Amok: A Mirror of Time and People. A Historical Review of Literature.” History of ­Psychiatry 30, no. 1 (2018): 38–57. https://doi.org/10.1177/0957154X18803499. Kassim, Bin Ahmad. Characterisation in Hikayat Hang Tuah: A General Survey of Character Portrayal and Analysis and Interpretation of the Characters of Hang Tuah and Hang Jebat. Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1966. Kassim, Bin Ahmad. Ed. Hikayat Hang Tuah. (4th edition). Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1973. King, Victor T. “Culture and Identity on the Move: Malaysian Nationhood in Southeast Asia.” In Discourses, Agency and Identity in Malaysia, 23–57. Edited by Zawawi Ibrahim, Gareth Richards, and Victor T. King. Singapore: Springer, 2021. Kon, Yan. “Amok.” British Journal of Psychiatry 165, no. 5 (1994): 685–689. https:// doi.org/10.1192/bjp.165.5.685. Mandal, Sumit K. “Cultural Geographies of the Malay World: Textual Trajectories in the Indian Ocean.” Philological Encounters 1, no. ¼ (2016): 370–395. Maslin, Bin Haji Jukim. Legenda: “Di Mana Tu Ah?,” Series 1. Bandar Seri Begawan: Ezy Printing, 2021. Muhammad Haji Salleh. 1985. “Central Values of the Malay Hero, Hang Tuah.” Tenggara 17/18 (1985): 74–97. Ng, Andrew Hock Soon. “The Absurdist Imagination and Its Indigenization in Salleh Bin Joned’s The Amok of Mat Solo.” In Reading Malaysian Literature in English, 97–112. Edited by Muhammad Quayum. Singapore: Springer, 2021. ­ ranslation Richards, Gareth. “The Travelling Text: Manuscripts, Print Culture and T in the Making of the Malay World.” In Discourses, Agency and Identity in ­Malaysia, 59–103. Edited by Zawawi Ibrahim, Gareth Richards, and Victor T. King. ­Singapore: Springer, 2021. Rusaslina, Binti Idrus. “Multicultural Hang Tuah: Cybermyth and Popular­ History Making in Malaysia.” Indonesia and the Malay World 44, no. 129 (2016): 229–248. Said, Edward. Orientalism. New York: Pantheon Books, 1978. Saint-Martin, Manuel L. “Running Amok: A Modern Perspective on a Culture-Bound Syndrome.” The Primary Care Companion to The Journal of Clinical Psychiatry 1, no. 3 (1999): 66–70. Salleh, Bin Joned. The Amok of Mat Solo. Kuala Lumpur: Silverfish Books, 2011. Samad Ahmad, A. Sulalatus Salatin (Sejarah Melayu). Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1979. Swettenham, Frank Athelstance. The Real Malay. London: John Lane, 1907.

180  Hannah M. Y. Ho Swettenham, Frank Athelstance. Malay Sketches. Kuala Lumpur: Silverfish Books, 2016. (Original work published 1895). Syed Muhd Khairudin Aljunied. “A Theory of Colonialism in the Malay World.” Postcolonial Studies 14, no. 1 (2011): 7–21. Tay, Eddie. Colony, Nation, and Globalisation: Not at Home in Singaporean and Malaysian Literature. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2011. Usman, Bin Ahmad. Matinya Seorang Pahlawan. Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, Kementerian Pendidikan Malaysia, 1992. Williamson, Thomas. “Communicating Amok in Malaysia.” Identities: Global ­Studies in Culture and Power 14, no. 3 (2007): 341–365. Winzeler, Robert. 1990. “Amok: Historical, Psychological and Cultural ­Perspectives.” In Emotions of Culture: A Malay Perspective, 96–122. Edited by Wazir Jahan Karin. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990. Wu, Jialin Christina. “Disciplining Native Masculinities: Colonial Violence in Malaya, ‘Land of the Pirate and the Amok.” In Violence, Colonialism and Empire in the Modern World, 175–195. Edited by Philip Dwyer and Amanda Nettelbeck. London and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018. Zawawi, Bin Ibrahim. “Postcolonial Indigenous Storytellers and the Making of a Counter-discourse to the ‘Civilising Process’ in Malaysia.” In Discourses, Agency and Identity in Malaysia, 429–480. Edited by Zawawi Ibrahim, Gareth Richards and Victor T. King. Singapore: Springer, 2021.

Part III

America and Native American Culture

9 The Next Frame Could Be My Redemption Signature Wounds and Tunnel-Vision Haunt War-Themed Cultural Artifacts Myra Tatum Salcedo Introduction: Definition of “Signature Wounds” A true war story is never about war. It’s about sunlight. It’s about the special way dawn spreads out on a river when you know that you must cross the river and march into the mountains and do things that you are afraid to do. It’s about love and memory. It’s about sorrow.1 Former U.S. President Barack Obama, following the words coined by the journalist Gregg Zoroya in the spring of 2005, defined the term of “military mental trauma” as signature wounds. Archived in White House documents is Obama’s August 31, 2010, speech “Remarks by the President in Address to the Nation on the End of Combat Operations in Iraq.” Obama stated: We’re treating the signature wounds of today’s wars—post-traumatic stress disorder and traumatic brain injury—while providing the health care and benefits that all of our veterans have earned.2 Such unseen wounds are the hallmarks of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), traumatic brain injury (TBI), and suicide. Undeniably, war trauma can result in devastating and life-long impacts. One interview from a military focus group recorded a combat veteran stating: Losing a Marine is a huge stressor—you don’t have time to stop and grieve, the mission always continues, and you don’t have time to think about it—afterward it takes a long time to not see everything as a threat. Saw another Marine get blown to pieces in front of them, no time to even call in a bird to get him [36  hours later]—back [to the FOB] for 30 minutes, had to go back out on another mission—no time to mourn—can’t mourn in combat, mourning shows weakness.3 Likewise, an anecdote of a military veteran interviewed relates: For a while, I had to let my wife do all the driving. That was probably lucky. I wasn’t able to [drive] yet because we hadn’t got hand controls DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-13

184  Myra Tatum Salcedo for my truck. But I’d sit there in the front seat scanning the road. I’d be sweating and just tracking back and forth looking for boxes, oil cans, jugs … anything that looked out of the ordinary.4 The U.S. government developed a more adequate response to the exceedingly high rates of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), “the most common and least visible of wounds,” in Iraq War veterans.5 While 30,000 Americans received physical wounds in Iraq, over 120,000 have been diagnosed with PTSD.6 Furthermore, the cultural syndrome of signature wounds is currently being addressed by various branches of U.S. military services (Army, Navy, and Marines) to attempt to fully engage troops via popular culture. Other artifacts also are addressing some elements of signature wounds, such as films, literature, and graphic novels denoting “tunnel vision,” and have replaced the era of the 200-page text-only military training manual. A wider study could likely reveal more global impact and would span centuries. However, present research concentrates on the emergence of signature wounds from the twentieth to the twenty-first war conflicts—engaging and negotiating with popular culture genres and artifacts that are evolving to the point of including manga, the Japanese-style comic embraced by various cultures and countries.7 Therefore, the objective of this chapter is to explore signature wounds and PTSD as war-related culture-bound syndromes in popular culture. Without pretending to have an exhaustive character, this study covers several war eras and countries with a focus on comics and graphic novels, and other artifacts of the hidden wounds of war. Materials examined include a wide variety of graphic novels: The White Donkey: Terminal Lance by U.S. Marine Maximilian Uriarte, It was the War of the Trenches by French artist and writer Jacques Tardi, the U.S. Navy’s pre-deployment manual The Docs, and several slim volumes by American cartoonist G.B. Trudeau. Additional popular culture materials include the feature-length film 1917 directed by Sam Mendes and fictional works such as the novels Redeployment written by U.S. Marine Phil Klay, The Things They Carried authored by American Vietnam veteran Tim O’Brien and the nonfiction collection Powder: Writing by Women in the Ranks, from Vietnam to Iraq edited by Shannon Cain and Lisa Bowden. Concentration on various wartime concepts includes mental and emotional wounds sometimes resulting from the military strategies of inducing tunnel vision, hypervigilance, TBI, memory gaps, envisioning beauty among brutality, and opportunities for post-traumatic growth will be examined. A Theoretical Discussion: Signature Wounds/PTSD as a Warinduced Culture-Bound Syndrome Tara Wood, in her chapter: “Signature Wounds: Marking and M ­ edicalizing Post 9-11 Veterans,” addresses United States’ veterans in the 2014 book ­Generation Vet: Composition, Student Veterans, and the Post 9-11 University.

Signature Wounds and Tunnel-Vision  185 Wood states that U.S. Military troops often return home with such mental wounds as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), traumatic brain injury (TBI), and other hidden mental injuries, which may be not as expressed as visual (physical injuries). The author notes that: “Student-veterans with signature wounds may not identify as ‘disabled,’ but they are subject to a medicalizing culture that will nonetheless label them as such.”8 David Kieran describes the human toll the war takes in the same form of signature wounds, including the above-mentioned PTSD, TBIs, and escalating suicide rates. He also considers how the wars stressed military families and how an ill-prepared, largely volunteer-driven support system could not cope with the deteriorating mental health of military families, especially spouses.9 Many of the hallmarks relegated to PTSD include characteristics like the “100-yard-stare,” “hypervigilance,” “inability to assimilate back into civilian culture,” “not being able to fill in mental gaps of traumatic moments,” and “hauntings by images” at once glorious and visceral. What adds to hypervigilance as one of the hallmarks of PTSD is the anxiety of only being able to concentrate on what is happening beyond someone’s range of vision. While these characteristics are largely applied culturally to U.S. military troops, such elements transgress worldwide geographical and cultural boundaries, as well as literary and visual genres—from graphic novels to film, and fiction and non-fiction. From a historical perspective, the hidden wounds of bearing witness to battle and fallen comrades have been reported since WWI, a true war of the trenches, to later conflicts including those of Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) and Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF). An early signature wound during WWI was labeled as “shell shock” by a physician and psychologist from the U.K., Charles Samuel Myers. In a review of Stephen Johnson’s article, “What Doesn’t Kill Us,” Jessica Schrader relates: ‘Shell shock’ is a term originally coined in 1915 by Charles Myers to describe soldiers who were involuntarily shivering, crying, fearful, and had constant intrusions of memory. It is not a term used in psychiatric practice today but remains in everyday use.10 These types of mental wounds may have even been depicted since ancient wars. However, what is new to this phenomenon is how comics and graphic novels are engaging pre-deployment and post-deployment troops with the nature of war and avenues for mitigating military stress. On the one hand, since the graphic novel simultaneously activates the visual image and text processing area in the brain, it may lead to better cognitive understanding.11 This is consistent with visual intelligence and visual education concepts and with the dual coding theory that postulates visual and verbal information processing acting as two independent systems that can have additive effects on memory.12 Thus, traumatic moments and their implications on the mental psyche have metaphorically bled over into pop

186  Myra Tatum Salcedo culture genres via comics, graphic novels, films, and many more genres in the cultures of the citizens of America, the U.K., and France to name just a few countries. Moreover, as Hilary L. Chute states to confirm this idea: Graphic narratives draw trauma – a phenomenon characterized by its unspeakability, invisibility, and silence – out onto the open spaces of the comics page. Furthermore, graphic narrative represents unseen wounds in a readable form of visuality: combinations of words and pictures linked graphically in sequence provide an alternative means of depicting trauma’s ineffable and disorienting nature.13 On the other hand, due to scholarly research and medical studies indicating that visuals with text are more engaging than text alone to twenty-firstcentury war-bound troops, military services are incorporating comics and graphic novels as having a healing potential. According to a study completed by the U.S. Navy, this combination of text/words and visuals is being touted as therapeutic.14 Therefore, the Navy and U.S. Marine Corps decided that graphics/cartoons or text and visual combinations “would better capture the attention of the younger target audience.”15 One of the training manuals/ graphic works that resulted from this assertion is the 200-page graphic novel The Docs16 developed and published by the Naval Health Research Center. Envisioned as a pre-deployment manual, the objective of this comic is to prepare medical personnel for the brutality and mental stresses of war, considering that it spares no blood and is produced in vivid color.17 As Kraft summarizes, “the story follows four Navy Corpsman [including one female] through a deployment in Iraq and provides examples of helpful techniques for in-theater care of combat stress techniques.”18 In the article “Graphic Novels: A New Stress Mitigation Tool for M ­ ilitary Training: Developing Content for Hard-to-Reach Audiences,” Hourani emphasizes the remarkable healing potential of this popular culture genre, which explains, in fact, the option of the Navy Medicine: The graphic novel format was selected by Navy Medicine for its nonthreatening value and in providing thought-provoking content about combat stress scenarios for discussion in training sessions.19 The scholar highlights the overall impact and potential of graphic novels in addressing frequently stigmatized mental health issues: Innovative methods are needed for delivering combat stress training to help psychologically prepare service members for the stress of active combat and ultimately to reduce the stigma associated with seeking assistance for mental health problems. One such method is the graphic novel.20

Signature Wounds and Tunnel-Vision  187 With the large numbers of veterans returning to their home countries ­suffering from the complications of emotional and mental trauma, designated as signature wounds, comics and graphic novels open dialogue to discuss mental trauma. The Tunnel Vision Strategy: Denial of Past Traumatic Events Human beings move forward in steps—just as movies and graphic novels offer one frame at a time—and the mind makes fragmentation whole, especially with juxtaposed images abutting up against each other in comic books. Our eyes move from visual image to visual image trusting the world to move us forward from the present tense to the future. We do not have eyes that see ahead and behind us simultaneously; neither do comic book frames, which guide the viewer ever onward, but not always sequentially in time. This “tunnel vision” is a strategy of survival for military troops and evokes American comic book theorist Scott McCloud’s concept of what is behind [or not in our direct line of vision] “ceases to exist” and the mind makes fragmentation whole, especially with juxtaposed images. McCloud, in a black-and-white sketch, portrays a young boy walking down a sidewalk in a neighborhood flush with trees, a house, fire hydrant, and more. However, the comic strip is completely blank behind the back of the character in the sketch. In the next frame, the boy turns to look back behind him, yet the world in front of him (out of his range of vision) is now a totally blank realm.21 The comics theorist recounts: “When I was very young, I had a recurring daydream that whole world was just a show put on for my benefit, that unless I was present to see things, they ceased to exist.”22 The artist/author denotes that people also go on faith that other countries exist when they have never been there to visit them. Therefore, this is a form of tunnel or a narrowed sense of vision. Note how vision only incorporates what is revealed in front, moving forward, or what the viewer sees looking backward only: “All of us perceive the world as a whole through the experience of our senses. Yet our senses can only reveal a world that is fragmented and incomplete.”23 Nonetheless, the mind tries to fill in gaps that may occur, another element of signature wounds whereby moments of time are lost, especially after a frightening incident such as witnessing a sudden death or being temporarily blinded by an explosion or shock. Thus, what we do not see, especially in traumatic moments, is not mentally recorded or else the brain tries to push past such stress. Comic and graphic novels invite the viewer to fill in the blanks via the white spaces between comic frames, also known in comic parlance as the “gutters.” Although this artistic and narrative technique has existed since comic book frames were juxtaposed against each other, in the twenty-first century, militarythemed graphic novels have taken this mental process to the next level. Intriguingly, more than a century has transpired while training the military in the long-time survival mode of the war-time strategy of mastering tunnel

188  Myra Tatum Salcedo vision prevails. Several scholars and studies indicate that once ­developed, the hypervigilance needed for this specific war strategy can result in the concept of being carried forward into non-combat areas whereby the skills become mentally devastating. Hypervigilance Leads to Trauma At least three examples of “hypervigilance” as a rich evocation of “tunnel vision” and, overall, “war-related trauma” come to mind. In the graphic novel, It was the War of the Trenches, French author and artist Jacques Tardi portrays brutal and horrific scenes of the French fighting the Germans in WWI24 and largely depicts trench-like narrative frames that entrap the viewer into narrowed spaces often with three horizontal frames per page (in stark black-and-white ink sketches). “This is not the history of the first World War told in comics form,” Tardi relates, “but a non-chronological sequence of situations, lived by men who have been jerked around, and dragged through the mud, clearly unhappy to find themselves in this place, whose only wish is to stay alive for one more hour […].”25 Tardi’s frames force the eye to crawl from narrowed tunnel to tunnel, horizontal panel to panel as French troops fight the Germans in WWI. The non-sequential storyline enforces the idea that one cannot fully anticipate what is to be confronted outside of a trench or around the next corner or the next small berm in a field. Furthermore, this graphic novel entraps the viewer, through a nonsequential artistic style, highlighting the illogical moments of war. This type of suspense and hypervigilance can be therefore interpreted as a hallmark of mental and emotional trauma labeled through several centuries as “shell shock” or post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Albeit outside the genres of comics and graphic novels, other excellent portrayals of “hypervigilance” associated with the devastating effects of “war trauma” can be located in the fictional literary work Redeployment authored by U.S. Marine veteran Phil Klay, and the twenty-first-century film 1917, directed by Sam Mendes. Moving forward to our analysis, a great example of tunnel vision— enmeshed with hypervigilance—is evidenced in Klay’s novel, who describes a narrow approach to viewing the world carried forward by a character from Iraq on his returning home to the United States. The character, in his book (also a post-deployed troop member in Iraq, like the author), relates feeling vulnerable walking down a city street in Wilmington, United States. The character’s vulnerability is caused by lacking a weapon and squad, which would include someone to guard his back. Klay electrifies this account of hypervigilance with: The last time you walked down a city street, your Marine on point went down the side of the road, checking ahead and scanning the roofs across from him. The Marine behind him checks the windows on the

Signature Wounds and Tunnel-Vision  189 top levels of the buildings, the Marine behind him gets the windows a little lower, and so on down until your guys have the street level covered, and the Marine in the back has the rear. In a city there is a million places that they can kill you from. It freaks you out at first.26 Military troops are taught, in a variety of environments, from the classroom to training exercises, to identify the many ways that weapons, traps, and ambushes can be concealed from view. They are inculcated with the idea that lapses of attention can cost the lives of their friends or themselves.27 A final highly relevant example of this concept is the 2020 Sam Mendes’ movie 1917 (released more than a century after the actual WWI conflict occurred), which propels military characters ever onward, never looking back as the future exists only in the next frame of the film.28 Here, the audience is shoved forward into the unexpected and is forced to follow the frightening journey of the characters. The film immerses the eyes of viewers in an ever-onward battle with the characters, moment to moment. Events are envisioned through a single roving camera encompassing nearly one continuous take—chronological in the wake of fear, waiting for the next boot to drop. The audience is shoved forward into the unknown as troops from the U.K. attempt to warn fellow soldiers of a planned German ambush. The WWI movie transpires in the so-called “no man’s land” in Northern France separating British and German troops. The soldiers and the audience have no moments to look back—thus incurring the immediacy of the battlefield. This specific cinematic device increases anxiety and tension. Within the first four minutes of the film, two U.K. lance corporals walk into a trench and cease looking behind. In a matter of seconds, the soldiers get ahead of the audience and the audience is compelled to follow their backs. Traumatic Brain Injury: A Hallmark of Signature Wounds Another American long-time political cartoonist, D.B. Trudeau, known for many years as the artist behind “Doonesbury,” produced a trilogy of comics in 2010 focusing on hot-button issues in the military, including sexual assault on females, and a male veteran returning home with a missing leg. One of the brief graphic novels in the trilogy, Signature Wound: Rocking TBI, is lauded by General Peter Pace, U.S. Marine Corps (retired), and ­Sixteenth Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Pearce notes that the reader watches the main character: “[…] stutter and stammer his way to a ‘new normal,’ living with aphasia, memory loss, and other devastating symptoms of traumatic brain injury (TBI) – truly the ‘signature wound’ of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan.”29 In Signature Wound, the story begins with the character in a vehicle on patrol when an explosion occurs. The next comic book frame is followed by a completely white comic that is framed with jagged black lines—thus a blinding light that will most likely create an unknown space or gap in

190  Myra Tatum Salcedo memory, similar to a gutter that the mind must fill in. According to a 2021 Wounded Warriors Project report and survey: TBI is usually caused by a hit, blow, or jolt to the head. Blunt head trauma and blasts caused by improvised explosive devices (IED), and exposure to repeated trauma have turned mild TBI (mTBI) into a signature wound of the most recent generation of veterans.  Post-­ traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)  is also considered a signature wound, and its symptoms can overlap with TBI. The Department of Defense reports 449,000 servicemen and women were diagnosed with some form of TBI between 2000 and 2021. Reporting on military TBI is done quarterly through the TBI Center of Excellence (formerly known as the Defense and Veterans Brain Injury Center or DVBIC).30 It is also significant that a 2019 graphic novel PTSD, written by FrenchLaotian creator Guillaume Singelin, features a female veteran from a nameless war in a Tokyo-inspired city. Billed as a dystopian novel, it reveals a character attempting to move away from isolation, homelessness, and drug addiction while illustrated in manga style. Hourani allows that graphic novels and manga Japanese style comics are not only intriguing to readers of all ages but include the military’s target audience of those ranging in age 18–34 of enlisted persons. Also acknowledging the role of women in the military, Trudeau’s graphic novel, Mel’s Story: Surviving Military Sexual Assault, is hailed by ­Congresswoman Jackie Speier as sexual assault of any gender as being unattended to due to a flawed military justice system and lauds the graphic novel for its depiction of depression. In addition, it notes that some survivors of sexual assault end up homeless and, on the streets, not unlike the character in the graphic novel PTSD. Likewise, the female dilemma—as a minority in military combat—is bluntly described in the non-fiction book Powder: Writing by Women in the Ranks from Vietnam to Iraq (2008). Vignettes of short stories and poems conclude with brief autobiographical accounts from the authors, among which we find the statement of U.S. Navy veteran Donna Dean (1963–1981): My PTSD is chronic and incurable […] My story does not have a happy ending […] One of the things that they have figured out about PTSD can cause substantive brain changes that impact cognitive functioning.31 Therefore, more graphic novels need to include perspectives of gender, and how various diversity issues challenged people just willing to serve their countries without being judged by the stigma of race, gender, and more.

Signature Wounds and Tunnel-Vision  191 The Concept of Memory Gap The graphic novel, “is not restricted simply to [superheroes…], but has evolved to encompass innovative, diverse, and high-quality narratives and art”; according to Hourani, a graphic novel “facilitates the reader’s identification with [the] characters” themselves.32 These fictional book-length, comic strip formats have a combination of prose and pictures integrated into the narrative not seen in other texts.33 Nonetheless, what happens if part of that narrative is removed? These elements encompass the unseen that occurs in “gutters,” which are the absence of content, a space between visual panels, or empty spaces that the mind of the reader must fill. Without filling in the mental/emotional gaps of traumatic occurrences, Scott McCloud states that there can be no closure and that “in an incomplete world, we must depend on closure for our very survival.”34 McCloud demonstrates this concept in his book: Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art. On one page, two comic book images are placed side by side with a wide blank space in between the frames. The frames are sketched in heavy black ink against a stark white background. The first frame portrays a man wielding an axe over his head in attack of an unarmed man. The potential murderer states: “Now you die!” as the other man cowers away from him screaming “No! No!” There is a gap, for the reader to fall into before the next frame of merely viewing the text of “EEYAA!” above a silhouette of a night-time skyline. Who prevailed—the man with the axe or did his victim grab the axe away from his opponent? The viewer is left to decide, and therefore make the decision of what occurred. Thus, the reader is drawn into mentally interacting with the visual art and is compelled to decide who lives or who dies becoming complicit in the storyline of a potential murder. This evokes the realm of the military combatant. When does one become complicit in war, and when does one just soldier on, so to speak, moving forward in a tunnel-vision force to complete a mission? Tanya Heflin discusses how memoirists who write graphic novels use the “‘gutter’… to make visible psychological depths of [the reader’s] remembered experiences” when used in military storylines.35 These military sources represent “gutters” in various ways such as the 100-yard stare, denial of distress and hauntings of beauty enmeshed with brutality. Essential to this study is the “unseen” that occurs in the “gutters” (between the visual panel gaps/empty spaces that the mind must fill in through “reading” the blank spaces in comics or graphic novels), as well as what is literally depicted through text and images. Joshua Leone underlines the connection between the concept of “memory gaps” and the perpetual return of trauma in the following way: The rupture of the mind’s experience of time causes moments of reality to repeat over and over again, while the survivor remains unable to consciously access the nature of the trouble. The continual return of the trauma, which can take the form of behavioral, emotional, cognitive,

192  Myra Tatum Salcedo and physical paroxysms, eventually begins to unravel an individual’s narrative identity by fragmenting his sense of linear time.36 The White Donkey: Terminal Lance

Enlisting in the military is an intensely personal experience, and it is one that few stories attempt to tackle. I didn’t want to tell a story about the Iraq war, or combat, or valor, or patriotism. I wanted to tell a story about a Marine and what it all meant to him […] to tell [via a popular cultural graphic novel] the story of what might drive a Marine to put a gun to his head. — Maximilian Uriarte, U.S. Marine, veteran, author, and illustrator of The White Donkey: Terminal Lance (2016) One graphic novel that explores expansive gutters and thus deserves special attention is The White Donkey: Terminal Lance published in 2016. ­Written and illustrated by U.S. Marine veteran Maximilian Uriarte, the novel confronts the emotional and fictional journey of Private First Class Abe. The narrative negotiates tunnel vision, PTSD, and issues of mental and spiritual trauma that can end in denial or result in a possible suicide. Uriarte interrogates visual and literary spaces in both deployed life, portrays disconnections from civilian life, and on a post-deployment exit form whereby Abe—although demonstrating many indicators of PTSD, question by question—denies internal suffering. The character negates every aspect of what he is feeling and stares vacantly in the frame. A single page of The White Donkey depicts the protagonist’s disconnection with the trauma that he experienced. The comic panels picture Abe’s sense of denial increasing until he loses all sparkle and life in his eyes—glazed over [the one-hundred-yard stare or gaze of disconnection] while denying the final question on a post-deployment survey: “Have you ever felt numb or detached from others, activities or your surroundings?” The blank stare, and the lack of response in the graphic novel frame, “speaks” volumes more than the text alone. Never looking back, as if the future only transpires in the next frame, evokes comic book theorist Scott McCloud’s concept of what is behind us “ceases to exist” and the mind makes fragmentation whole, especially with juxtaposed images. Notably, The White Donkey has no page numbers, thus unhinging time in combat and in civilian life as sequentially meaningless. More significantly, Uriarte incorporates blank pages following an explosion that halts time in its tracks after the killing of a fellow soldier. While the entire book is surrealistically awash in water-colored hushed tones of beiges and greens, instead of bright colors, there is a gruesome image of a deceased soldier smeared in vivid red blood that shatters the visual narrative. The color red appears again when the scene of death re-occurs in a nightmare. The final use of blood-red transpires when the narrator looks into a mirror scrawled with the words: “Did you kill anyone?”

Signature Wounds and Tunnel-Vision  193

Figure 9.1  Denial and detachment on the post-deployment health assessment form

194  Myra Tatum Salcedo

Figure 9.2 Abe stares into a mirror seeing a fragmented self with conflicting terms written on his face such as hero and murderer51

Signature Wounds and Tunnel-Vision  195 At one point, an actual white donkey appears in the roadway and manages to stall an entire battalion in its tracks. The donkey, a symbol of innocence, and the beast that Christ rode in on in the Bible further emerge in moments of crisis—possibly a representation of consciousness of peace, stubbornness, or questioning Abe’s non-belief in any religion. At one point, two pages depict both the donkey’s and Abe’s eyes staring and their lids closing (in a blink) before the horror of a fellow soldier’s gruesome death. The blink creates a gap. In addition, Uriarte extends the gutter for a page or two of just blank pages following dramatic moments, including an incident of a soldier holding a gun to his head. The viewer is left not knowing what actually occurs between the panel of what looks to be a suicide attempt, three blank pages, and the last full-color bucolic pages. It is the gutter writ large, also evoking the ambiguity of telling a true war story. Awe-Inspiring Scenes of War Defy Brutal Aspects Despite the swaths of the water-color-washed and unreal world of The White Donkey, there are no haunting scenes of beauty of war in the graphic novel as often occurs in war films and some works of fiction. For example, in the film 1917, there are scenes of surrealistic flames, and shadows of a burning village that are majestic and ethereal. A character, looking out a window of a war-torn building, suddenly is awash in blinding goldenyellow light from flames, backing black silhouettes of stone arches, and ruinations of buildings in stark contrast in hauntingly beatific scenes.37­ Battlefield visuals are brilliant in fiery shades with flares popping and gray smoke from gunshots. In Tim O’Brien’s 2009, literary novel The Things They Carried, the narrative is highly visual and paints a picture for the reader. Focused on the ­Vietnam War, O’Brien’s character relates an American soldier’s death as being a vision to behold in the short story How to Tell a True War Story. The character, named Curt Lemon, is playing catch with (what was presumed to be a smoke hand grenade) when it detonates. O’Brien writes: […] There was a noise, I suppose, which must have been the detonator, so I glanced behind me and watched Lemon step from the shade into bright sunlight. His face was suddenly brown and shining. A handsome kid, really. Sharp gray eyes, lean and narrow-waisted, and when he died it was almost beautiful, the way the sunlight came around him and lifted him up and sucked him high into a tree full of moss and vines and white blossoms.38

196  Myra Tatum Salcedo Due to moments after a blast or explosion, the narrator describes that there will be gaps in memory and in processing what actually occurred. The narrator insists: The angles of vision are skewed. When a booby trap explodes you close your eyes, and duck and float outside yourself. When a guy dies like Curt Lemon, you look away and then look back for a moment, and then look away again. The pictures get jumbled, you tend to miss a lot.39 The writer also portrays body parts in the tree as part of a beatific image, then later notes that some scenes of combat are visually arresting and gorgeous: You stare out at tracer rounds unwinding through the dark like brilliant red ribbons […] You admire the fluid symmetries of troops on the move, the harmonies of sound and shape and proportion, the great sheets of metal-fire streaming down from a gunship, the illumination rounds, the white phosphorous, the purply orange glow of napalm, the rocket’s red glare. It’s not pretty exactly. It’s astonishing. If fills the eye.40 Thus, images and memories do not always follow the expected path despite the mind clinging to the structure of events happening in sequence and expecting brutal scenes not to be awe-inspiring sights. The 2020 film of 1917, depicting WWI, opens in the first few seconds with a bucolic scene of golden flowers gently waving in a slight breeze. Then, the camera closes in on two soldiers sleeping on the ground. Within just more than four minutes into the film, the audience will be swept into the roughly awakened soldiers following the backs of two characters as tunnel vision sets in for the protagonists and the viewers.41 Therefore, the force of the visual image, the unexpectedness of the next frame, can hit a reader with all the unanticipated force of an Improvised Explosive Device (IED) blast. Despite the haunting images, there can be gaps and spaces, or losses that live with into those moments of lost memory. Such spaces engage all the tenuous uncertainty of a soldier or medic out in combat patrol. Likewise, negotiating what is happening between the frames of what is supposed to be the sequential nature of life can hit home to civilians in a most provocative manner. Depictions of “Post-Traumatic Growth” and “the Guilt of Surviving” Many novels about the Iraq War in particular take as their centerpiece the psychological and cognitive repercussions of war for the men and women who fight and survive it. They document what Cathy Caruth calls a kind of “double telling,” or “the oscillation between a crisis of death and the correlative crisis of life: between the story of the unbearable nature of death and the unbearable nature of its survival.”42

Signature Wounds and Tunnel-Vision  197 For the past decade, at least, medical professionals have been working on the concept of post-traumatic growth. Examining those whose outlook on life gained positive connotations has been the work of psychiatrists and psychologists since at least 2013.43 The author states, “if well-being is more than the absence of suffering,” then more needs to be done on checking the moments of positive mental and emotional “growth” from life-impacting experiences.44 Joseph also notices that those in the medical professions are largely “not interested in the positive effects of trauma” by not including some questions as to the betterment of life by focusing on the joy of having survived.45 In this regard, scholars conclude that the guilt of surviving results in getting into the cycle of reliving what one did not do in the moment of a crisis. This is why the character Abe in The White Donkey cannot reconnect with civilians when returning home, and why the character William “Will” Schofield in the film 1917 rejects any awards of valor. This character states: “I hated going home.”46 It is the same reason why the character in the fiction novel The Things They Carried, O’Brien insists that one cannot tell a true war story. This is because there will be fragmentation and gaps in memory in moments of harrowing crisis. While there is no guarantee of comics, graphic novels, film, or fiction in closing gaps and promoting post-traumatic growth, medical professionals and academic research are trending to resolve what can be resolved while acknowledging that there will still be negative experiences and the aftermath of guilt, shame, and grief. Therefore, several researchers and military medical professionals are advocating multi-modal forms of content delivery—before and after deployment. More specifically, those enlisting in the military need to visually envision combat scenes and how to best react—while veterans returning home to civilian life need to be encouraged to mind the mental gaps that isolate them, for there is no guarantee that pre-deployment instruction of any media can prepare anyone for the combat zone. Conclusion: Back to the Old Drawing Board The final two pages of the graphic novel The White Donkey are full of multiple colors awash in greens, golds, gray, and beige. Caldwell notes that this suggests a hint of hope, after a moment whereby the protagonist, Abe, holds a gun to his head. The reader never learns what happens to Abe after this pivotal moment, but the color scheme on the final panel offers us some clues. The monochromatic color scheme that Uriarte has employed throughout the text alternates between grays for a civilian environment, browns for the combat environment, and greens for training and non-combat military settings. In the end, these colors are all represented, blending seamlessly into each other across two pages, suggesting that Abe is finally able to

198  Myra Tatum Salcedo at least start integrating the disparate aspects of his experience into a coherent whole.47 The character, Abe, ends up sitting on the ground marveling at a world now including multiple colors. However, the ambiguous ending of where he is in the moment—on Earth or somewhere else—lands the viewer to make a decision as to what just occurred in the gaps. Likewise, in the feature-length film 1917, survivor Schofield gets to his destination and then walks back into a golden-flowered field, not unlike where he was at the beginning of the first take of the film. He sits down on the ground with his back against a tree observing the glory of nature absent, the gore of bodies, mud, and a combat-zone free space. He is out of the trenches, and there may be hope. In the final frame of Signature Wound: Rocking TBI, the character suffering the symptoms of TBI reminds his girlfriend (when she suggests that she might be behaving neurotically) that he is actually the person in the relationship diagnosed with the condition.48 While there is more hope forthcoming to address signature wounds for all troops in the twenty-first century, French writer and illustrator Tardi depicts the war for the French in WWI as devastating. The graphic novel It Was the War of the Trenches ends with a brutal scene of various bodies dead in a trench with the text: “November 11, 10:45 a.m.” Above the carnage, followed by the words: “That same day, at 5 a.m., the Armistice was signed. It was due to take effect six hours later.”49 Thus, all tragedies and wounds could have been avoided on that day and cannot be healed. However, it is the signature wounds (unseen mental, emotional, and traumatic injuries) that have become a hallmark of cultural syndromes, in the U.S. and globally. Finally, a most fitting quote to close the essay is McCloud’s visionary and optimistic perspective on the future of comics, otherwise envisioned as one of the best routes to (self-)healing and recovery, including the one from signature wounds: As comics grow into the next century, creators will aspire to many higher goals […] and that sooner or later the healing aspects (in deference to reaching closure), will shine through.50 Acknowledgment This chapter is dedicated to my late son, Daniel Ramon Salcedo, born on July 23, 1975. He took his own life on June 19, 2013, due to the unseen wounds of mental trauma. I would like to acknowledge the incredible assistance of Anabel Sanchez, a student at the University of Texas Permian Basin in Odessa, Texas, in helping me edit the endnotes of this chapter.

Signature Wounds and Tunnel-Vision  199 Also, editor Cringuta Irina Pelea collaborated greatly with organizing c­ ontent and formatting. She demonstrated the patience of a real mentor and a saint. Notes 1 Tim O’Brien. “How to Tell a True War Story,” in The Things They Carried. (Grand Rapids, MI: Mariner Books, 2022): 81. 2 “Remarks by the President in Address to the Nation on the End of Combat Operations in Iraq,” National Archives and Records Administration (National Archives and Records Administration, 2010), https://obamawhitehouse. archives.gov/the-press-office/2010/08/31/remarks-president-address-nationend-combat-operations-iraq. 3 Laurel Hourani, et al. “Graphic Novels: A New Stress Mitigation Tool for ­Military Training: Developing Content for Hard-to-Reach Audiences.” Health Communication 32, no. 5, (2017): 543. 4 Seth D. Messinger. “Vigilance and Attention Among U.S. Service Members and Veterans After Combat.” Anthropology of Consciousness 24, no. 2, (2013): 192. 5 Messinger, “Vigilance and Attention,” 541. 6 Mayer (2010): quoted in Hourani et al., “Graphic Novels,” 541. 7 See the graphic novel PTSD, written by French-Laotian creator Guillaume S­ ingelin and published in 2019. The narrative line focuses on a female veteran challenged by PTSD. 8 Tara Wood. “Signature Wounds: Making and Medicalizing Post 9-11 Veterans” in Generation VET: Composition, Student-Veterans, and the Post-9/11 University, ed. Lisa Langstraat (Logan, UT: Utah State University Press, 2014): 156. 9 Kurt G. Piehler. “David Kieran. Signature Wounds: The Untold Story of the ­Military’s Mental Health Crisis.” The American Historical Review 125, no. 4 (2020) 1468–169. 10 Jessica Schrader, “Is Shell Shock the Same as PTSD?” Psychology Today­ (Sussex Publishers, November 2011), https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/ what-doesnt-kill-us/201111/is-shell-shock-the-same-ptsd. 11 Mayer, 541. 12 Ann Marie Barry. Visual Intelligence: Perception, Image, and Manipulation in Visual Communication. (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1997); Paul Messaris. “Visual Culture” in Culture in the Communication Age, ed. James Lull (London, UK: Routledge 2001): 179–192; Paivio (1986): quoted in Hourani et al., “Graphic Novels.” 13 Hillary L. Chute. Graphic Women: Life Narrative and Contemporary Comics. (New York, NY: Columbia University Press, 2008): quoted in Joshua M. Leone. “Drawing Invisible Wounds: War Comics and the Testament of Trauma,” Journal of Medical Humanities 39, no. 3 (2017): 244. 14 Hourani, et al., “Graphic Novels,” 541. 15 Hourani, et al., “Graphic Novels,” 542. 16 Heidi Kraft, et al. The Docs: A Graphic Novel. (San Diego, CA: The Naval Health Research Center, 2010). 17 Kraft, et al. The Docs. 18 Kraft, et al. The Docs. 19 Hourani, et al., “Graphic Novels,” 542. 20 Hourani, et al., “Graphic Novels,” 541. 21 Scott McCloud and Mark Martin. Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art. (New York, NY: HarperCollins Publishers, 2018): 60. 22 McCloud and Martin, Understanding Comics, 60.

200  Myra Tatum Salcedo 3 McCloud and Martin, Understanding Comics, 62. 2 24 Jacques Tardi. It Was the War of the Trenches, 2nd ed. trans. Kim Thompson (Seattle, WA: Fantagraphics Books, 2019). 25 Tardi, War of the Trenches. 26 Phil Klay. Redeployment. (New York, NY: Penguin Group US, 2015): 12. 27 Messinger, “Vigilance and Attention,” 10. 28 1917, directed by Sam Mendes (2019: Universal Pictures), DVD. 29 G.B. Trudeau. Signature Wound: Rocking TBI. (Kansas City, MO: Andrews McMeel Publishing, 2010): Foreword. 30 “Annual Warrior Survey: Executive Summary,” Wounded Warrior Project, NORC at the University of Chicago, 2022, https://www.woundedwarriorproject. org/media/ixqbka3q/2021-executive-summary.pdf. 31 Donna Dean: quoted in Shannon Cain and Lisa Bowden. Powder: Writing by Women in the Ranks, from Vietnam to Iraq. (Tucson, AZ: Kore Press, 2008): 124. 32 Hourani, et al., “Graphic Novels,” 541. 33 Eddie Campbell. “What is a Graphic Novel?” World Literature Today 81, no. 2 (2007): 14. 34 McCloud and Martin. Understanding Comics, 63. 35 Gian Pagnucci and Alex S. Romagnoli. “Rebooting the Academy: Why Universities Need to Finally Start Taking Comic Books Seriously.” Works and Days 32, no. 1–2 (2014–2015): 18. 36 Joshua M. Leone. “Drawing Invisible Wounds: War Comics and the Treatment of Trauma.” Journal of Medical Humanities 39, no. 3 (2017). 37 1917, 1:11:11. 38 O’Brien, “How to Tell,” 67. 39 O’Brien, “How to Tell,” 68. 40 O’Brien, “How to Tell,” 77. 41 1917, 4:13. 42 Caruth quoted in Melissa M. Caldwell. “Did You Kill Anyone?: The Pathography of PTSD in the White Donkey” in Performativity, Cultural Construction, and the Graphic Narrative, eds. Leigh A. Howards and Susanna Hoeness-Krupsaw. (London: Routledge, 2019): 7. 43 Stephen Joseph, What Doesn’t Kill Us: A Guide to Overcoming Adversity and Moving Forward (London, UK: Piatkus, 2013). 44 Stephen Joseph, ibid. 45 Stephen Joseph, ibid. 46 1917, 37:27. 47 Caldwell, “Did You Kill,” 32. 48 Trudeau, Signature Wound, 115. 49 Tardi, War of the Trenches, 118. 50 McCloud and Martin, Understanding Comics, 211. 51 From The White Donkey: Terminal Lance by Maximilian Uriarte, copyright © 2016. Reprinted by permission of Little, Brown and Company, an imprint of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

References Cain, Shannon, and Lisa Bowden. Powder: Writing by Women in the Ranks, from Vietnam to Iraq. Tucson, AZ: Kore Press, 2008. Caldwell, Melissa M. “Did You Kill Anyone?: The Pathography of PTSD in The White Donkey.” In Performativity, Cultural Construction, and the Graphic­ Narrative, eds. Leigh A. Howard and Susanna Hoeness-Krupsaw. London: Routledge, 2019.

Signature Wounds and Tunnel-Vision  201 Campbell, Eddie. “What is a Graphic Novel?” World Literature Today 81, no. 2, (2007): 13–15, http://www.jstor.org/stable/40159289. Chute, Hillary L. Graphic Women: Life Narrative and Contemporary Comics. New York: Columbia University, 2010. Flagg, Gordon. It was the War of the Trenches. (Book Review). vol. 106. Chicago, IL: American Library Association, 2010. Herrera, Catherine J., and Gina P. Owens. “Multicultural Personality and ­Posttraumatic Stress in U.S. Service Members.” Journal of Clinical Psychology 71, no. 4 (2014): 323–333. https://doi.org/10.1002/jclp.22138. Holub, Christian. “‘1917’ Cast and Creators Explain How They Built the Film to Be One Continuous Shot.” EW.com, Oct. 2019, https://ew.com/comic-con/2019/10/03/ 1917-cast-creators-explain-one-continuous-shot-trailer/. Hourani, Laurel, et al. “Graphic Novels: A New Stress Mitigation Tool for Military Training: Developing Content for Hard-to-Reach Audiences.” Health Communication 32, no. 5 (2017): 541–549. Joseph, Stephen. What Doesn’t Kill Us: A Guide to Overcoming Adversity and ­Moving Forward. London: Piatkus, 2013. Klay, Phil. Redeployment. New York: Penguin Group US, 2014. Kraft, Heidi, Russ Peeler, Jerry Larson, Shari Lambert, Daniel Wiggins, Dao Nguyen, Diane Philyaw, and Andre E. Jessup. The Docs: A Graphic Novel. San Diego, CA: The Naval Health Research Center, 2010. Leone, Joshua M. “Drawing Invisible Wounds: War Comics and the Treatment of Trauma.” Journal of Medical Humanities 39, no. 3 (2017): 191–207. https://doi. org/10.1007/s10912-017-9442-8. McCloud, Scott and Mark Martin. Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2018. Mendes, Sam, et al. 1917. Universal Pictures, 2019. Messinger, Seth D. “Vigilance and Attention among U.S. Service Members and Veterans After Combat.” Anthropology of Consciousness 24, no. 2 (2013): ­ ­191–207. https://doi.org/10.1111/anoc.12013. O’Brien, Tim. “How to Tell a True War Story.” The Things They Carried. Boston, MA: Mariner Books; Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2009. Pagnucci, Gian, and Alex S. Romagnoli. “Rebooting the Academy: Why Universities Need to Finally Start Taking Comic Books Seriously.” Works and Days 32, nos. 1–2 (2014–2015): 9–21. ­ ilitary’s Piehler, G. Kurt. “David Kieran. Signature Wounds: The Untold Story of the M Mental Health Crisis.”  American Historical Review  125, no. 4 (October 2020): 1468–1469. doi:10.1093/ahr/rhaa508. “Remarks by the President in Address to the Nation on the End of Combat Operations in Iraq.” National Archives and Records Administration. National Archives and Records Administration, 2010. https://obamawhitehouse.archives. gov/the-press-office/2010/08/31/remarks-president-address-nation-end-combatoperations-iraq. Seward, Barry Ann Marie. Essay. In Visual Intelligence: Perception, Image, and Manipulation in Visual Communication. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1997. Schrader, Jessica. “Is Shell Shock the Same as PTSD?” Psychology Today. ­Sussex Publishers, November 2011. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/whatdoesnt-kill-us/201111/is-shell-shock-the-same-ptsd.

202  Myra Tatum Salcedo Shay, Jonathan 1995 Achilles in Vietnam: Combat Trauma and the Undoing of ­Character. New York: Simon and Schuster. Singelin, Guillaume. PTSD. First Second, 2019. Tardi, Jacques. It Was the War of the Trenches. Second Edition, Illustrated by ­Fantagraphics, April 2010. Trudeau, G.B. Signature Wound: Rocking TBI: A Doonesbury Book. Kansas City, MO: Andrews McMeel Publishing, 2010. ———. Mel’s Story: Surviving Sexual Assault: A Doonesbury Book. Kansas City, MO: Andrews McMeel Publishing, 2010. Uriarte, Maximilian. The White Donkey: Terminal Lance. Little, Brown and ­Company, 2016. U.S. Navy. “The Docs.” https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a3/The_ Docs%2C_graphic_novel.pdf. Wood, Tara. “Signature Wounds: Marking and Medicalizing Post 9-11 Veterans.” In Generation Vet: Composition, Student Veterans, and the Post 9-11 University. Logan, UT: Utah State University Press, 2014. Wounded Warriors Project. https://newsroom.woundedwarriorproject.org/What-is-TBI.

10 Wendigo Psychosis From Colonial Fabrication to Popular Culture Appropriations and Indigenous Reclamations Vivienne Tailor Introduction The ancient wendigo myth believed by many bands living in the Great Lakes region centers on a massive bestial creature that can exist as its own fearsome entity or can possess humans, driving them to cannibalism. This research explores the settler-colonial usurpation of the wendigo icon in the fabrication of stereotypes related to insanity and criminality as one of the many tools used to extend cultural, legal, and territorial hegemony in North ­America. First, this chapter provides an insight into pertinent indigenous worldviews, identity constructs, and wendigo myths held by bands living in the Great Lakes region. Then, the essay intersects an indigenous lens with F ­ oucault’s theories on discourse analysis, discipline and punishment, and mental illness to explore how European settler-colonialists developed the “noble savage” narrative that started from publications by sixteenth- and seventeenthcentury European explorers, popular writers, and Jesuit missionaries. ­Ultimately, these battles over identity politics precipitated the construction of the wendigo psychosis as an ethnoracialized culture-bound syndrome, which was then used to undermine tribal worldviews and leadership and to justify imprisonment and executions. As the French and English expanded their settler-colonial missions, those suffering from the wendigo psychosis became diagnosed as victims who required medical attention from Canadian psychiatry and protection from their own community who sought to kill them. The murderous redefinition of Cree wendigo exorcism or euthanasia promoted a stereotype of indigenous criminality where band leaders then required discipline by Canadian courts. Thus, the wendigo psychosis became a two-pronged construct to stigmatize indigenous persons as mentally ill or as criminals and to undermine tribal authority and autonomy. As a popular culture study, this research deconstructs turn-of-thecentury print media’s sensationalized reports on wendigo trials, colonial literature’s adaptation of wendigo myths into a North ­American Gothic, and the recent use of wendigo concepts in graphic novels, video games, and feature films. However, the story of the wendigo does not end with relentless appropriation. This chapter concludes with an investigation of indigenous DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-14

204  Vivienne Tailor artists’ reclamation and reinscription of wendigo meanings for indigenous ­communities. These scholars and artists have embraced wendigo iconography to return accusations of cannibalism to settler-colonial culture and serve as a vehicle for indigenous healing and cultural continuity. Indigenous Communal Values and Wendigo Mythology Brady DeSanti (Ojibwe) researches the wendigo’s presence in many ­Algonquian-speaking bands and First Nations mythologies. DeSanti explains that Ojibwe culture teaches people to live according to the values of minobimaddiziwin,1 meaning “living a good life.” According to this ideology, people must live balanced lives by considering their interactions with others, the natural environment, and the spiritual realms. This last realm includes beings denoted as “other-than-human,” such as the wendigo. DeSanti theorizes that many wendigo myths instruct people to live a mino-bimaddiziwin ethos with a specific warning against greed and selfishness. Both Nadia Ferrara and Guy Lanoue, who provide psychological support for Canadian indigenous communities, argue that the Eurocentric “wendigo psychosis is misnamed”2 and that it ignores indigenous identity constructs. Their ethnographic paper details Sekani and Cree patients’ interpretations of their psychological disease as a “need for ‘harmony’ (that) is based on a view of illness resulting from the disequilibrium of the elements of the composite Self.”3 This composite Self includes the ego Self, social Self, and transcendental Self where people must find a mino-bimaddiziwin balance among self, kin, community, the environment, and spiritual beings. The origin of the term “wendigo” is debated, as it can be translated as “owl” or “cannibal” in different Algonquian dialects.4 However, both entities are inauspicious and associated with death. Basil Johnston asserts that “wendigo” may derive from the Anishinaabe term wen dago, meaning “solely for the self,” or from weenin n’digooh, meaning “fat” or “excess.”5 When a person self-identifies or is identified as experiencing a wendigo imbalance or possession, native lore describes the person as suffering from insomnia, delusions, loss of appetite, depression, antisocial behavior, irritation, isolationism, and cannibal ideation. When this occurs, individuals and families seek the aid of a medicine man to perform an exorcism and other cleansing rituals. The final decision to kill a wendigo person was not a spontaneous act carried out by one individual against another. Instead, the situation was deliberated by councils or a community collective. If they determined to kill the wendigo, family members usually performed the task. This two-tier system of collective discussion and family participation precluded retaliation and illustrates the community’s conscientious decision-making process. Anthony Wonderley analyzed fifty wendigo narratives presented by three different scholars, including Morton Teicher’s 1960 study, Victor Barnow’s 1977 study, and Regina Flannery et al.’s 1981 study. Wonderley divided the narratives, which all date from the nineteenth and early twentieth century, into three main categories – Wendigos in Narrative Space; Wendigos in a

Wendigo Psychosis  205 World of Spiritual Power; and Wendigos in a Human World. The first group centers on hero narratives where either human heroes or manidos, spiritual beings, battle fearsome wendigos who are attacking vulnerable humans. The second group involves a monstrous wendigo attacking a human community, requiring a superhuman hero to transform into a wendigo to protect the people. These narratives include wizard-humans, demonstrate a “fight fire with fire” mentality, and illustrate the idea of the composite elements of the Self with the ability to transform and transition among worlds. The third group refers to wendigos masquerading as humans and includes humorous tales of dim-witted wendigo, as well as chilling narratives of deceitful, cannibalistic humans who need to be killed to protect the family and community. Early Colonial Writings: Imagining a Cannibalistic Indigeneity The colonial association of indigenous persons with cannibalism began early through travelogues and reports sent back to Europe, where readers reveled in the stunning descriptions of the abundant, dangerous frontiers. Michel de Montaigne’s 1580 French essay “Of Cannibals” heavily initiated this cannibalism identity construct. Montaigne’s work patronizingly reflects upon indigenous persons as exotic, pure, authentic, and harmonious children of nature. However, his sociopolitical target was hypocritical European religious violence. In his essay, Montaigne satirically praises cannibalism as more civilized than French torture, stating “I conceive there is more barbarity in eating a man alive, than when he is dead; in tearing a body limb from limb by racks and torments … than to roast and eat him after he is dead.”6 Regardless of his target, Montaigne’s description of nonCaucasian persons as cannibals took root within the European imaginary. Echoes of these stereotypes filtered throughout Shakespeare’s The Tempest (1611) among other popular works, culminating with John Dryden codifying the phrase “noble savage” in his play The Conquest of Granada (1672). From there, European fiction, such as Jonathon Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels (1726) and Voltaire’s Le Mondain (1736), continued embedding and promoting these identity constructs. With Samuel de Champlain’s founding of Quebec in 1608, Catholic ­Jesuit missionaries soon settled in the St. Lawrence River in 1625. The Jesuits began their ideological contribution to the colonial process by learning the local languages to convert bands living in the Great Lakes region, including Montagnais, Hurons, Mohawk, Iroquois, and Algonquin confederations. The missionaries’ annual reports, known as The Jesuit Relations (Relations), were sent to France to be collated and published for eager consumption by “pious well-wishers, potential donors, and simply curious readers.”7 Greer describes how “the Jesuit Relations can be seen as the combined product of immersion in Native American society and an unparalleled ability to communicate with European audiences.”8 Relations cites instances of cannibalism related to starvation and to prisoners-of-war ritualized torture and executions. The 1633, 1634 Relations

206  Vivienne Tailor details winter-induced starvation cannibalism in Northern hunting bands, adding that “the killing of the aged, sick, and disabled, occasional cannibalism… (were) a desperate pursuit…under the worst conditions of hardship, suffering, and debasement.”9 These references infer starvation cannibalism was a regrettable but common act in Northern bands and reinforce European ideas of civilization as connected to land ownership and agriculture systems. Relations also describes ritual cannibalism associated with war expeditions. The text details the Huron belief that consuming an enemy increases prowess and the hierarchical division of the human meat.10 Megapolensis, a Dutch clergyman, reports in the 1645-1648 Relations of the Mohawks cannibalizing prisoners, with commoners consuming the arms, chest, and buttocks and the chiefs consuming the head and heart.11 During cannibalistic events, the Jesuits often paint themselves as dismayed witnesses or tortured martyrs. In the 1639 Relations, the Jesuits record the Huron cannibalizing close to one hundred Iroquois prisoners who were “put to death with frightful tortures, though not before several had been converted and baptized.”12 Moreover, the 1649 Relations presents a garish instance of torture and cannibalism in the Iroquois execution of the missionary Jean de Brébeuf (1593–1649), who is now sainted in Catholic hagiography. While these highly popular Relations heightened the cannibalism discourse, they were not the only narratives of cannibalism associated with the indigenous communities surrounding the Great Lakes. Tales of the anthropophagic wendigo became increasingly familiar for the fur traders, especially those who hunted in remote regions and married into native families. Caroline Podruchny details how the early French colonists’ impressions of wendigo myths intersected with the Catholic ritual of metaphorical cannibalism in the communion transubstantiation and with European werewolf myths.13 For these early voyageurs, their Catholicism existed within fluid concepts of the sacred and mundane. They often reported seeing ghosts, read messages in the sky, recorded saints coming to the aid of endangered traders, and reported experiencing superhuman strength to survive dangerous animal encounters. Thus, many early traders comprehended the indigenous wendigo as a nonhuman, transformative being that thrived in the harsh wilderness and could enter people’s dreams and possess them, which would easily find correlatives in Catholic demon narratives. Plus, the French loup-garou, or werewolf myth, provided another connection. In these interactions, the traders’ reports of wendigo experiences detail the Europeans – often men who had intermarried with local women – following their wives’ warnings to kill and dismember the wendigo. Major Steps in the Formation of Modern Canada Coincide with Wendigo Court Cases Shawn Smallman’s research on the colonial encounter with wendigo narratives traces the colonialists’ reports from 1774 to 1935, providing a transition between early fragmented groups of Europeans to the establishment of the

Wendigo Psychosis  207 Hudson Bay Company (HBC) and the Anglophone Canadian g­ overnment. Smallman notes that the: fur trade and the windigo disorder were linked historically, so that the passing of the one marked the fading of the other, as the economic and cultural ties that shaped relationships between Algonquians and outsiders underwent a profound change in the early twentieth century.14 Overall, the 1800s represented an era of powerful Anglophone expansion from the Atlantic to the Pacific, in which the British Crown asserted linguistic, religious, legal, and territorial dominance over Indigenous and French communities while also blocking American expansionism. In their dealing with indigenous claims, the Canadian government took an approach they termed the “liberal treatment” where they acted according to “a legal procedure for the orderly purchase of lands, the reservation for the Indian nations of sufficient land, the provision of ‘presents’ as a sign of comradeship and good faith, and the full application of legal rights under English and ­Canadian law.”15 From 1871 to 1906, the Canadians negotiated with various tribes to make ten questionable treaties, known as the “numbered treaties” – which granted Canada rights over what became present-day Alberta, British Columbia, Manitoba, Ontario, Quebec, and Saskatchewan. In truth, these decades were brutal for indigenous people, including religious pressure, colonial extermination of buffalo, unscrupulous land speculation, and legal intrusions – especially through wendigo-based court trials. Colonial interactions with wendigo events transformed into a platform to destabilize indigenous communities by undermining band leaders, world views, and legal codes. Smallman’s research reveals how the “imperial context ultimately determined how most Canadian institutions responded to the wendigo, as colonial authorities created narratives around this disorder designed to increase their control over Cree and Ojibwa communities.”16 While the diplomatic treaties justified land usurpation, the relentless series of wendigo-based court trials devastated and slandered indigenous communities through connecting wendigo myths with mental illness and criminality. M.I. Teicher tallies thirty-six nineteenth-century court cases and ten twentieth-century ones centered on wendigo-based situations,17 indicating the necropolitical power struggle between tribal versus colonial law. For example, in 1885, the Canadian government displayed its authority by crushing the Métis and French Red River Rebellion and executing their leader Louis Riel (1844–1885). The failed rebellion led to two intertwined court cases that saw six Cree men tried for massacring Anglophone persons and saw three men tried for committing a wendigo execution during the rebellion. This second case, known as the Ducharme case, set a precedent that denied the legal pluralism of Canadian and indigenous law for the dominance of Canadian law. Another pivotal wendigo court case occurred in 1896 with Regina v. Machekquonabe, which set the devastating precedent of mens rea, or “guilty mind” – meaning that a person had to be determined to intend harm and be

208  Vivienne Tailor aware of that, thus experiencing the guilty knowledge of wrongdoing. In this case, the Ojibwe man Machekquonabe was found guilty of manslaughter for killing a person he believed to be a wendigo. After this case, the C ­ anadian “criminal law universally (applied) even when the indigenous people involved had never been exposed to the common law and were completely ignorant of it.” The malleable precedent of mens rea was then continuously and broadly applied in legal situations as Canada continued it territorial and cultural domination. Print Media and Academic Articles Perpetuate Wendigo Psychosis These court cases made perfect fodder for sensationalized newspaper articles that promulgated racially charged ideas of indigenous beliefs infused with graphic descriptions of the wendigo deaths. The print media exoticized, dehumanized, and demonized indigenous persons connected with wendigo cases, either as victims or as perpetrators. For instance, in 1899, The Victoria Daily Times published an article with the inflammatory headline “SHOT THEIR CHIEF.”18 The headline’s term “chief” alerts readers to the Indigenous connection, while the othering pronoun “their” divides this community from the Canadian readership. The paragraph describes how two “Indians” were brought four hundred miles from their home in Dinorwic for trial in ­Winnipeg. The article describes how “The chief of the Cat Lake Indians, called Ah-wah-sa-keh-mig became a Wendigo, or insane, and ordered the prisoners to shoot him.”19 This article degrades the complex wendigo mythology into being a synonym for “insane,” which is a stigmatized term itself. Here, the article juxtaposes wendigo sufferers as insane contrasted to wendigo executors as sane and accused criminals, linking and overlapping all of these complex ideas for popular consumption. The article describes how the Cat Lake tribal council deliberated for two days and then followed the chief’s orders to shoot him. The journalist creates a three-tiered conflated impression of the chief as a man who is mentally ill and was murdered by his own people; a man possessed by the supernatural wendigo spirit (linking to the othering idea of indigeneity as an ancient culture imbued with the supernatural); or a Wendigo himself (as an evil indigenous being). The description of the two-day purifying cremation that destroyed “the evil spirit of their chief” demonizes the band leader. Finally, the article’s blunt concluding sentence, “They will be tried here,” indicates a normalized assumption of Canadian jurisdiction and the settler-colonial’s right to discipline and punish. In a similar situation, the sensationalized 1907 Jack Fiddler wendigo case was heavily reported, including when the American Muncie Evening Press printed a story with the bold headline “INDIANS MURDER INSANE WOMAN UNDER AN OLD TRIBAL CUSTOM.”20 This six-paragraph article flattens issues related to the wendigo myth, mental health, cultural othering, and legal jurisdictions. In the article, the executed woman is negativized

Wendigo Psychosis  209 as an “insane squaw,” undermining Canadian compassion in upholding her human rights. In fact, the woman named Wahsakapeequay was Joseph Fiddler’s daughter-in-law. The article references the band’s deliberation and, with a similar unemotional, yet graphic description, details the group strangulation of Wahsakapeequay. The biased journalist condemns the death as an “atrocious act of barbarism.” Then, the article details the accused men plaintively begging for leniency, writing they pleaded that “the execution of this duty was considered a high honor and according to ancient custom the executors were handsomely rewarded by the parents of the victim,” which is not usually mentioned in relation to the wendigo decision-making process or post-death customs. The case of Jack Fiddler and his brother Joseph represents another example of a wendigo case being interwoven into the fur trade and Canada’s expansion of its territory. Jack (Zhauwuno-geezhigo-gaubow) was a Sucker tribe ogema, or chief and shaman, who had struggled with regional fur traders regarding hunting access to the local wildlife population, which was dwindling due to overhunting. The trial had an unexpectedly tragic outcome as Zhauwuno-geezhigo-gaubow escaped only to hang himself near the prison, and his brother committed suicide in prison just days before the announcement of his death sentence being commuted. The loss of these two essential leaders devastated the Sucker community, leaving them vulnerable to the Canadian pressures to sign several of the numbered treaties. This series of events ultimately led to the Sucker band’s dispossession and relocation. A last example of the power of the media in constructing the wendigo psychosis narrative and the media’s influence on cultural memory centers on the frenzy surrounding the 1879 case of Swift Runner (Kakisikutchin), who was hanged for murdering and cannibalizing his wife and five children. Kakisikutchin’s case differs from an indigenous community euthanizing ­ someone to prevent a transformation into a wendigo. Kakisikutchin, who claimed that a wendigo attacked and consumed his family while they were living alone in the forest, appears to have been a person (who had no prior criminal history) suffering a psychotic break that devolved into murder and anthropophagy. Regardless of the unique elements of Kakisikutchin’s situation, popular culture essentialized the events as an example wendigo psychosis in the ongoing promotion of this stigmatized identity construct. In 1881, the Kansas Christian Advocate printed a one-paragraph article with the headline “Whiskey and ‘The White Man’s God,’” which immediately conjures the stereotypes of indigenous alcoholism. Beyond the blunt racism, this article prompts other questions on the historical remembrance of Kakisikutchin and the indigenous community’s reaction to his behavior. The journalist records that Cree people performed a funerary ritual during his execution. However, there is no evidence that Kakisikutchin’s band or any other groups appealed to the courts for lenience, as in the letter-writing appeals made in the Fiddler case. Furthermore, Evan’s meticulous research does not mention any funerary rites, only commenting that a crowd of around “sixty First Nations and Métis people trudged through thick snow into the prison

210  Vivienne Tailor yard to watch the hanging.”21 In addition to questions of media accuracy and cultural memory, Evans notes that “in this case, Cree and colonial law seem to have been in agreement about how to deal with Kakisikutchin,”22 which links into the tenuous borders among biochemical mental illness, folk illness, and stigmatized culture-bound psychosis. Bolstering the stigmas promoted by the courts and the media, 1920s and 1930s academia formally turned its eyes toward the wendigo situation, often using a Freudian psychoanalytic framework. In 1933, J.E. Saindon officially coined “windigo sickness” after treating a woman who detailed visions of certain people as animals that she wanted to kill. Also in 1933, John M. Cooper initiated the pejorative label of Witiko psychosis, with symptoms including cannibalistic ideation and the delusion of transforming into a wendigo with a heart of ice. These works served as questionable foundations for later academic figures, such as Ruth Landes (1938), who psychoanalyzed the wendigo belief as derived from a projected fear of starvation. Nevertheless, her work combined with growing research on the wendigo psychosis, as if this were a confirmed mental illness located in the ethnoracial indigenous body and psyche. By the 1950s, wendigo psychosis was deeply established as a culture-bound syndrome associated with Algonquin people. Wonderley notes that “[f]rom the 1970s through early 1980s, the topic became something of an academic boom industry devoted to reexamining the wendigo disorder from a variety of perspectives.”23 In 1960, Seymour Parker continued the psychoanalytical streak, hypothesizing Algonquin men were susceptible to the wendigo psychosis due to the rites of passage when they were denied food and affection in the efforts to push them to self-sufficiency. Anthony Paredes, in 1972, adopted an individualistic diagnosis, asserting that the psychosis could be understood through analyzing a person’s dreams and biography. Other experts proposed theories based on nutritional deficiencies, wendigos as allegories of community social structures, etc. In 1982, Lou Marano published a study asserting that the wendigo mythology merely served as a social cover for executing disabled, mentally ill, infirmed, or elderly community members. However, none of these articles deeply questioned the settler-colonial use of the penal and medical regimes as conjoined disciplinary agents. Nor did these experts value Anishinaabe identity structures of the composite Self or the Ojibwe mino-bimaddiziwin philosophy. Nadia Kanani has investigated how the settler-colonial “[p]sychiatric labelling, treatment, institutionalization, and the lived experiences of racialized psychiatric survivors have been significantly shaped by the political project of colonization; political institutions such as slavery, scientific racism, and eugenicist discourses; and exclusionary immigration policies.”24 Applying Foucault’s and Fanon’s theories on power, race, and psychiatry, Kanani denaturalizes mental illness as an objective science. She highlights the intersections of colonization, psychiatry, and social hierarchies in the fabrication of the “abnormal, racialized Other.”25 Likewise, James Waldram concurs with Kanani’s perspectives.

Wendigo Psychosis  211 He deconstructs stereotypes of “disordered” Aboriginal people as primitive beings struggling with modernity, living in trauma, overwhelmed by culturebound syndromes, or predisposed to alcoholism and depression. Waldram questions studies performed on indigenous communities that use Western systems and lenses – such as Rorschach tests and an objectifying ­ethnography – in an essentializing goal to pinpoint a single indigenous psychology and dominant personality. Popular Culture Appropriations: Fiction, Comics, Video Games, and Films Misrepresent Wendigo Iconography In popular colonial fiction, novels quickly incorporated “Indian savages” as their villains. Charles Brockden Brown’s 1799 novel Edgar Huntly initiated a gothic subgenre that exchanged British villains and castles for North ­American shadowy heathens in the wilderness. Nathaniel Hawthorne embraced these formulas by eliding indigenous persons or relegating them to peripheral roles of heathen, healer, or romanticized nature dweller.26 These tropes filter throughout Hawthorne’s “Young Goodman Brown” (1835) and The Scarlet Letter (1850), which both remain standards on North American high school curriculum. In 1910, Algernon Blackwood published the short story “The Wendigo,” which follows a settler-colonial group on a disastrous moose hunt. Joe Nazare asserts that Blackwood’s rhetoric metaphorizes the story’s indigenous cook with the wendigo that terrorizes the hunters. In the story, the shadowy wendigo reeks like a lion and is associated with the frigid winds. The cook, in comparison, moves like a shadow; his sleeping blankets reek; and he supernaturally races across the icy wilderness. Blackwood’s rhetoric echoes the journalist’s conflation of the Cat Lake chief Ahwahsakehmig as both a human and a wendigo. These printed materials exhibit the settler-colonial evolution of stigmatizing tropes begun 200 years prior. These popular culture works interweave the exotic, taboos, race, violence, and legality in ways that reveal profound settler-colonial cultural anxieties. In addition to racialized print media, the 1900s saw the development of the Canadian National Film Board (NFB), which developed as a government-funded department that was heavily subsidized to battle American Hollywood. Christopher E. Gittings asserts Canadian films were overtly used to establish Canadian white settler-colonial identity, noting “[e]arly representations of the Canadian landscape were shot through a colonising lens that viewed Canadian terrain as empty territory to be taken by white British invader/settlers.”27 The NFB focused on documentaries, which included a genre devoted to colonial portrayals of indigenous communities as primitive, vanishing races with sexualized views of indigenous women. Fortunately, Canada started evolving its cultural sensitivity with the ­Multicultural Policy of 1971 and then the Multicultural Act of 1988 that mandated increased positive representation of various communities. Regardless,

212  Vivienne Tailor the representations of non-white persons in global cinema have been a space for codifying race-specific stereotypes disseminated through this highly accessible popular culture medium. In researching visual works centered on the wendigo, the Internet Movie Database offers a list of twenty films, thirtythree television episodes, and seven video games that include the wendigo icon.28 Most of these B- and C-grade works represent colonial imaginaries that manipulate Algonquin iconography, elide indigenous persons, elevate the white protagonists, and subsume settler-colonial anxieties. In reviewing the spectrum of wendigo productions, the icon’s physical presentation has been constantly altered, as artists present new imaginaries. For example, Dark Was the Night (2014) portrays the wendigo as reptilian, while The Retreat (2020) portrays the wendigo as a pale-skinned orc. Although some sci-fi and supernatural connoisseurs assert that the artist Matt Fox first created the deer-based humanoid wendigo in 1910, it was not until the film director Larry Fessenden created his 2001 film Wendigo that this deer-wendigo iconography gained footing. However, as this deer-­ wendigo association lacks cultural historicity, Fessenden’s film deserves a specific look concerning how appropriation takes place. In an interview with Glass Eye Pix,29 Fessenden discusses his inspiration from a misremembered conversation with a third-grade teacher in combination with the Blackwood short story, which is rife with anti-indigenous sentiment. Is Fessenden’s concept just an example of artistic license? Vivian Asimos contends that: [t]he antlered wendigo is a form of whitewashing, pulling the wendigo further and further away from its original context… (allowing people)… to draw on Native American folklore and myth without paying attention to the wendigo’s fuller background requiring confrontations with colonisation and genocide.30 In the same interview, Fessenden mentions he only started researching the wendigo mythology after he had produced his 2001 Wendigo film. Beyond the problematic manipulation of the wendigo visualization, ­Fessenden’s film appropriates the wendigo myth as an aural backdrop to narratives of white-settler identity explorations. In this film, a New York, upper-middle-class white couple and their ten-year-old boy take a winter holiday. When the husband hits and kills a deer that hunters were tracking, the narrative devolves into masculine class tension. DeSanti acknowledges that the director Larry Fessenden captures the essence of the Wendigo myth through effective mise-en-scène and cinematography.31 Throughout the film, Fessenden presents a freezing, uncanny wendigo world of ice and snow, remoteness, and aloneness, which all fosters a sense of being lost in the wilderness and being vulnerable to local human and unseen forces. However, the wendigo film centers on the white characters and elides any indigenous characters’ identities. The film uses “magical Indian tropes” to have the solitary indigenous character function as a taciturn store clerk who tells the son

Wendigo Psychosis  213 about the wendigo and offers him a protective totem. This gift highlights the white male child as worthy of protection by the mysterious man, who stereotypically functions as a spiritual guardian. Thus, while the indie film presents as a thoughtful exploration of adolescence, masculinity, class, and the urban-rural divide, it projects appropriations of wendigo mythology while marginalizing indigenous voices. In his later film The Last Winter  (2006), Fessenden develops a more culturally sensitive application of the wendigo as an environmental protector, although he retains his deer-wendigo iconography. This whitewashing deer-wendigo visualization can be seen repeated in the series Hannibal (2013–2015) and the film Antlers (2021). The cult classic Ginger Snaps Back (Ginger, 2004) presents another problematic appropriation of the wendigo iconography where the central white characters Ginger and her sister Brigitte have come to represent feminist icons. The third film in this trilogy takes the red-haired and black-haired siblings outside of modernity back to a 1600s settler-colonial outpost. Instead of sweeping wide shots of a landscape devoid of indigenous people, Ginger presents an isolated, foggy forest and claustrophobic colonial fort. The sisters appear out of nowhere seeking shelter and encounter the film’s singular indigenous female character, an elderly clairvoyant woman who warns them of trouble ahead. With a closeup shot of a dreamcatcher, the bonded sisters leave her blood-covered teepee that looks shredded by an animal. Brigitte gets caught in a hunting trap, which leads to meeting the singular sexy indigenous male character who guides them to the fort. These two indigenous characters embody magical, sexualized, and sacrificial Indian tropes, and – while some might argue the wendigo killed the original inhabitants – the empty wilderness elides native presences and portrays an empty frontier. Again, this wendigo narrative is not focused on questioning the colonial process or indigenous empowerment. Here, it is a vehicle for white female rebellion in the form of the monstrous wolf feminine cloaked in wendigo mythology. In each film in the trilogy, Ginger is bitten by a wendigo and must battle her cannibalistic urges as she becomes a transgressive, sexual female. In an article on Ginger, Barbara Creed notes the social anxiety at the end of the nineteenth century regarding Darwin’s theory of evolution, where ­Westerners worried that if humans could evolve, they could potentially devolve. Popular anxieties held that “[t]hose most at risk were women, children and indigenous people.”32 Creed’s article explores how Ginger rejects female passivity, manifests phallic power in her tail, and revels in sexualized violence. In Creed’s estimation, Ginger represents the female embrace of her dark animal-self as she pursues life in the wilderness and rejects society’s “anthropological machine.”33 Yes, Ginger might represent a powerful icon of female empowerment, and her unbreakable bond with Brigitte might represent the strength of sisterly love. However, in the third film, this universalizing feminism demonstrated by the two English-speaking Caucasian characters comes at a narrative price of indigenous characters in conjunction with the appropriation of the wendigo myth.

214  Vivienne Tailor At the same time, Patricia Malloy ponders unexplored interpretations of Ginger regarding the murder of the indigenous-white boy character who had turned wendigo. And in another polysemous interpretation, the sisters’ love can also be read as an emblem of settler-colonial selfishness since Ginger’s refusal to sacrifice her wendigo-life supposedly leads to the Canadian wilderness being inundated by the wendigo. While popular culture generally interprets Ginger as a female rebel, this nuanced interpretation links to indigenous understandings of wendigo, as mentioned by DeSanti and Johnston, among others. Moreover, this issue of the question of the North American land links into Gesa Mackenthun’s exploration of another major trope associated with appropriated wendigo myths – the theme of settler-colonial land theft and desecration. This subgenre of white-centric narratives that touch upon issues of land dispossession often initially presents as self-reflective questions of the settlercolonial process. However, Mackenthun asserts that these films also focus on Caucasian characters, use the topic of land theft and desecration as a backdrop, and include indigenous people as undeveloped token characters. ­Mackenthun discusses this perennial trope within The Shining (1980), ­Poltergeist (1982), and Pet Sematary (1989), where these uncanny references reinforce the connection of indigenous people with the supernatural and operate to occlude indigenous people, meaning they are both remembered and forgotten. In truth, many of these appropriated wendigo narratives can be read through an indigenous lens to see how they occlude settler-colonial anxieties, meaning these anxieties are both remembered and forgotten. Comics and graphic novels have been another realm of racialized representations of indigenous characters, along with the specific appropriation of the wendigo icon. “In his 2008 study, Native Americans in Comic Books, Michael Sheyashe (Caddo) documents an ongoing representational history rife with formulaic side-kicks, mystical warriors, and shape-shifting animals.”34 The spiritual wendigo has been absorbed within the Marvel universe to routinely battle the Hulk, Wolverine, or Alpha Flight. The 2015 Amazing X-Men Vol. 2: World War Wendigo35 comic conflates the wendigo with a zombie apocalypse where the cannibalistic creatures can bite and infect others en masse – but only if they are on Canadian soil. Once the infected wendigoperson crosses the U.S. border, they return to human form. Although creative, this iteration absurdly strays from the ancient Algonquin myth. Inevitably, the wendigo appears in the Marvel video game renditions of their comic books and in other interactive video games. In 2015, Supermassive Games released the well-received interactive video game Until Dawn, which was co-written by the aforementioned film director Fessenden.36 This chooseyour-own-path game challenges players to survive a frozen, hellish night on mountain while being hunted by a wendigo. Of course, these games manifest in cosplay with Pinterest walls showing people how to “Dress like wendigo from Until Dawn.” Moreover, wendigo

Wendigo Psychosis  215 fashion includes T-shirts that intersect the fast-food icon from “Wendy’s”37 as a red-haired zombie girl with deer antlers. And consumers can choose from a variety of “wendigo” T-shirts printed with an image of a furry beast with a toothsome deer skull and antlers. Indigenous Fiction and Films Reclaim and Reinterpret the Wendigo Moving toward the conclusion, it must be acknowledged that indigenous people continued resistance against erasure by genocide and assimilation. Harring emphasizes that indigenous people attempted to understand the Euro-Canadian court systems to defend the accused during wendigo trials and to enforce treaty agreements.38 Likewise, Kanani also discusses indigenous resistance to discriminatory psychiatric practices.39 Indigenous pushback has always been active and grows in strength as decolonization forces reckonings with past colonial actions and their current manifestations. The scholar John D. Forbes published a text entitled Columbus and other Cannibals: the Wétiko Disease of Exploitation, Imperialism, and Terrorism (2008). This bold title returns the cannibalism association to the colonial powers and encapsulates his text thesis that “the wétiko disease, the sickness of exploitation, has been spreading as a contagion for the past several thousand years.”40 Forbes deconstructs the discourse of Columbus and his men away from adventure and discovery to realities of rape, torture, murder, and enslavement. Forbes and Johnston coincide in their assertions that corporate personhood, dictatorial governments, and oppressive religions represent manifestations of the contagious wendigo syndrome infecting people to lead lives of greed, selfishness, and violence. Johnston claims that “the ­Weendigoes did not die out or disappear; they have only been assimilated and reincarnated as corporations, conglomerates, and multinationals,”41 which he sees in the timber industry’s relentless deforestation. Waubgeshig Rice’s novel Moon of the Crusted Snow (2018) intersects ecocritical and colonial cannibalism commentary by presenting a dystopian world where the energy supplies have been cut off. Rueben Martens theorizes that Rice’s novel exposes people’s physical and psychological dependence on petroleum and explores “the settler-colonial energopolitical violence forces and triggers petromelancholia through infrastructure, for settlers and ­Indigenous people alike.”42 Depressed and desperate, the city dwellers commit suicide as hunger, anxiety, and selfishness consume them. The Ojibwe character Evan has retained his hunting skills, allowing him to survive, although he also struggles with his dependence on petroleum products. Rice furthers the idea of the wendigo cannibal in the Caucasian male character Justin Scott, who embodies the bravado of the white savior. Rice portrays Scott as unwelcome, invasive, and aggressive as he descends into wendigo madness and cannibalism. However, Martens asserts that Rice’s novel does not end with the survivors returning to a harmonious state of mino-bimaddiziwin. Instead, Rice presents a world where people exist in a state of biskaabiiynag, which

216  Vivienne Tailor means “returning to ourselves.” Here, this means a reflection on the impacts of cultural and environmental colonialism and the reclamation of traditional knowledge and life systems. Indigenous artists have also reclaimed the wendigo as a warning metaphor against self-destruction, which is especially powerful in the anti-suicide graphic novel Darkness Calls (2006) by Steven Keewatin Sanderson. In 2001, the Assembly of First Nations and the Canadian Minister of Health established a commission to address the alarming issue of First Nation youth suicide. Although this was a multidimensional initiative, the novel Darkness Calls was commissioned specifically to target Cree and indigenous youth. Darkness Calls follows a young man named Kyle who is experiencing suicidal ideation. He is pulled from this darkness by an elder who tells him of the wendigo spirit, which represents the self-consuming negativity of suicidal ideation. Judith Leggatt researched the effectiveness in connecting with Cree youth by including oral history elements into a graphic novel medium. This balanced narrative device appeals to Cree youth in creating cultural, artistic, and psychological connections between past and present, Cree and Canadian/global culture, and individual and community.

Figure 10.1 Note the visceral, physical battle that visualizes this tale of battling psychological darkness

The film A Windigo Tale (2010), written and directed by the scholar-artist Armand Garnet Ruffo, explores the wendigo as a source of intergenerational healing, especially from residential school trauma. The theme of investigating

Wendigo Psychosis  217

Figure 10.2 The uncle tells the nephew the narrative of Doris and Lily and their battle against the wendigo-husband

218  Vivienne Tailor and healing from the forced boarding school programs represents a subgenre of indigenous Canadian art. Ruffo’s passion project was made on a shoestring budget and mainly includes untrained actors, exemplifying the “hunger” associated with Third and Fourth World cinema. The director-writer designs a cinematic oral history framework by conveying the framed wendigo tale, while an uncle drives his gangster nephew back to their family’s hometown. In the framed tale, the central female protagonist Doris suffered extreme abuse, including sexual abuse, while enduring forced boarding school. The local white Catholic doctor routinely performed abortions for the indigenous teens who lived at the school operated by the corrupt clergy. However, the doctor emotionally could not abort Doris’s child, whom she raised with a Caucasian man introduced to her by the doctor. Unfortunately, this husband was physically abusive to Doris and sexually abusive to the daughter Lily, who was sent to the city for her safety. Ruffo’s narrative demonstrates the community imbalance and intergenerational trauma devolving from boarding school nightmares, which has eventuated in the deceased husband haunting Doris as a wendigo. On the climactic night of the wendigo’s main attack, the alcoholic, guilt-ridden doctor commits suicide by freezing to death outside. And on this pivotal night, the boyfriend, while possessed by the husband-wendigo spirit, attempts to sexually violate the unconscious Lily. However, Doris stands up for herself and her daughter and banishes the husband-wendigo in a scene of intergenerational agency. The empowered Doris later explains her gratitude toward the boyfriend because he, in his own way, helped in the healing process. Although Ruffo’s film represents a clear indigenous-centered message of healing and unity, the film overall represents a message of collective togetherness and forgiveness. Conclusion This chapter has examined over 400 years of culture battles regarding the meaning of “wendigo.” Research on early colonial travelogues and missionary reports; turn-of-the-century court documents, newspaper clippings, and gothic novels; and a slew of global entertainment products exposes a generational telephone game of appropriative acts. These acts degraded the wendigo icon from a fierce indigenous warning against selfishness and greed into a settlercolonial justification for imprisonment, execution, hospitalization, spectacle, land theft, and cultural appropriation. However, indigenous perseverance shines in the reclamation of the wendigo as a source of reinscribed vigor, healing, and truth. Just as DeSanti introduces the wendigo from the perspective of the Ojibwe value of mino-bimaddiziwin, the scholars Eve Tuck and K. Wayne Yang bring in the idea of relational accountability. Tuck and Yang discuss how these values hold people “accountable to these relations between land, ­sovereignty, ­belongingness, time and space, reality, and futurity (that) shape Indigenous research methods.”43 They advocate for embracing this perspective in the large-scale decolonial process just as much as in the everyday.

Wendigo Psychosis  219

Figure 10.3  An alternative movie poster of the movie “Don’t Say Its Name”

220  Vivienne Tailor This essay celebrates the indigenous artists in fiction, graphic novels, and cinema who have reclaimed the wendigo as a powerful source of the returned cannibalism accusation, an ecosocial protector, and a healing guide for harmony and balance. As Canada moves forward with the process of transitional justice, indigenous and allied scholars work to decolonize every aspect of colonial-based Canadian structures and thought systems. Furthermore, indigenous filmmakers increasingly earn grants through Canada’s national Telefilm, ­Creative British Columbia, and other streaming platforms such as Netflix. The 2022 film Don’t Say Its Name represents a recent production that provokes questions about possibilities of indigenous and settler-colonial harmony, ecocritical preservation, and, above all, the consuming power of the wendigo. Through these funding sources, indigenous voices can continue to tell their stories in their ways and from their perspectives. Notes 1 Brady DeSanti. “The Cannibal Talking Head: The Portrayal of the Windigo ‘Monster’ in Popular Culture and Ojibwe Traditions.” Journal of Religion and Popular Culture 27, no. 3 (2015): 187. https://doi.org/10.3138/jrpc.27.3.2938. 2 Nadia Ferrara and Guy Lanoue. “The Self in Northern Canadian Hunting Societies: ‘Cannibals’ and Other ‘Monsters’ as Agents of Healing,” Anthropologica 46, no. 1 (2004): 69. 3 Ferrara and Lanoue. “The Self in Northern Canadian Hunting Societies”: 70. 4 Brady DeSanti. “The Cannibal Talking Head: The Portrayal of the Windigo ‘Monster’ in Popular Culture and Ojibwe Traditions.” Journal of Religion and Popular Culture 27, no. 3 (2015): 187. https://doi.org/10.3138/jrpc.27.3.2938. 5 Anishinabek nations include Ojibway, Ottawa, Pottawatomi, and Algonquin bands. 6 Michel de Montaigne and Tina Gianoulis. “Of Cannibals” In  The Literature of Propaganda, ed. by Thomas Riggs. Gale, 2013. http://ccl.idm. oclc.org/login?url=https://search.credoreference.com/content/entry/galelp/ of_cannibals/0?institutionId=2492. 7 Allan Greer, The Jesuit Relations: Natives and Missionaries in SeventeenthCentury North America. (Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2000), 14. 8 Greer, The Jesuit Relations, 3. 9 Francis Parkman, Jesuits in North America in the Seventeenth Century: France and England in North America. (Nabu Press, 2010), 97. 10 Parkman, Jesuits in North America, 26. 11 Parkman, Jesuits in North America, 231, 232. 12 Parkman, Jesuits in North America, 161. 13 Carolyn Podruchny, “Werewolves and Windigos: Narratives of Cannibal Monsters in French-Canadian Voyageur Oral Tradition,” Ethnohistory 51, no. 4 (Fall 2004): 678, 679. https://doi.org/10.1215/00141801-51-4-677 14 Shawn Smallman, “Spirit Beings, Mental Illness, and Murder: Fur Traders and the Windigo in Canada’s Boreal Forest, 1774 to 1935.” Ethnohistory 57, no. 4 (2010): 571, https://doi.org/10.1215/00141801-2010-037.571. 15 Sidney L. Harring,  White Man’s Law: Native People in Nineteenth-Century Canadian Jurisprudence (Toronto, ON: Univ. of Toronto Press, 1998), 11. 16 Shawn Smallman, “Spirit Beings, Mental Illness, and Murder: Fur Traders and the Windigo in Canada’s Boreal Forest, 1774 to 1935.” Ethnohistory 57, no. 4 (2010): 571, https://doi.org/10.1215/00141801-2010-037.571.

Wendigo Psychosis  221 17 Sidney L. Harring,  White Man’s Law: Native People in Nineteenth-Century Canadian Jurisprudence (Toronto, ON: Univ. of Toronto Press, 1998), 323. 18 “Shot Their Chief,” The Victoria Daily Times Victoria, October 28 1899, https:// www.newspapers.com/clip/35458609/winnipeg-murder-trial-1899-wendigo/. 19 “Shot Their Chief,” The Victoria Daily Times Victoria. 20 “Indians Murder Insane Woman Under an Old Tribal Custom,” Muncie Evening Press, August 24 1907, https://www.newspapers.com/clip/44234106/ the-wendigo-murder-case-of-1907-the/. 21 Evans, Catherine L. “Heart of Ice: Indigenous Defendants and Colonial Law in the Canadian North-West.” Law and History Review 36, no. 2 (2018): 221. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0738248017000657. 22 Evans, Catherine L. “Heart of Ice: Indigenous Defendants and Colonial Law in the Canadian North-West.” Law and History Review 36, no. 2 (2018): 222. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0738248017000657. 23 Anthony Wonderley, At the Font of the Marvelous: Exploring Oral Narrative and Mythic Imagery of the Iroquois and Their Neighbors. (New York: Syracuse University Press, 2009), 69. 24 Nadia Kanani, “Race and Madness: Locating the Experiences of Racialized People with Psychiatric Histories in Canada and the United States,” Critical Disability Discourses  3 (September 2011): 2. https://cdd.journals.yorku.ca/index.php/ cdd/article/view/31564. 25 Kanani, “Race and Madness,” 3. 26 Greg Stone, “The Ideal Identity: Nathaniel Hawthorne and the Loss of Native ­American Culture,” http://www.hawthorneinsalem.org/ScholarsForum/MMD2813. html. 27 Christopher E. Gittings, “Canadian Cinema(s).” In The Routledge Companion to World Cinema (1st ed.). ed. Rob Stone, P. Cooke, S. Dennison & A. MarlowMann (London: Routledge, 2017), 238. 28 For movies featuring classic monsters, the Internet Movie Database lists: Vampires (3,324 titles); Werewolf (1,228), Zombie (4,263); and Frankenstein (432). 29 Glasseyepix, “The Shape of the Wendigo,” YouTube, October 17, 2015, interview, 9:39. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z3fdNQZsUV0. 30 Vivian Asimos, “Wendigo Antlers,” Incidental Mythology, last modified March 2, 2022, https://www.incidentalmythology.com/blog/wendigo-antlers. 31 Brady DeSanti. “Classroom Cannibal: A Guide on How to Teach Ojibwe Spirituality Using the Windigo and Film.” Journal of Religion & Film 22, no. 1 (2018): 10. 32 Barbara Creed. “Ginger Snaps: The Monstrous Feminine as Femme Animale,” in She-Wolf, ed. Hannah Priest (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2017), 183. 33 Creed. “Ginger Snaps” (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2017), 193. 34 Susan Bernardin, “Comics, Graphic Novels, and Digital Media,” in The Routledge Companion to Native American Literature, ed. D.L. Madsen (London: Routledge, 2015), 482. 35 Mozzocco, J. Caleb, “Review: Amazing X-Men Vol. 2: World War Wendigo,” Every Day is Like Wednesday, June 30, 2015, http://everydayislikewednesday. blogspot.com/2015/06/review-amazing-x-men-vol-2-world-war.html. 36 Schilling, Chris, “Until Dawn is the ultimate playable horror movie, but its success is all down to a killer, real-life plot-twist ,” PLAY, February 02, 2018, https:// www.gamesradar.com/until-dawn-is-the-ultimate-playable-horror-movie-but-areal-life-plot-twist-made-it-the-killer-success-it-is/. 37 “Wendigo T-shirts,” Tee-public, accessed January 02, 2023, https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirts/wendigo. 38 Sidney L. Harring,  White Man’s Law: Native People in Nineteenth-Century Canadian Jurisprudence (Toronto, ON: Univ. of Toronto Press, 1998), 4.

222  Vivienne Tailor 39 Nadia Kanani, “Race and Madness: Locating the Experiences of Racialized People with Psychiatric Histories in Canada and the United States,” Critical Disability Discourses 3 (September 2011): 3. https://cdd.journals.yorku.ca/index.php/ cdd/article/view/31564. 40 Jack D. Forbes, Columbus and Other Cannibals: The Wetiko Disease of Exploitation, Imperialism, and Terrorism (New York: Seven Stories Press, 2008), 14. 41 Basil Johnston, The Manitous: The Spiritual World of the Ojibway (New York: Harper Collins, 1995), 235. 42 Reuben Martens, “Petromelancholia and the Energopolitical Violence of Settler Colonialism in Waubgeshig Rice’s Moon of the Crusted Snow,” American Imago 77, no. 1 (2020): 198. 43 Linda Tuhiwai Smith, Eve Tuck, and K. Wayne Yang, “Introduction,” in Indigenous and Decolonizing Studies in Education: Mapping the Long View, ed. Linda Tuhiwai Smith (New York: Routledge, 2018), 9.

References Armand Garnet Ruffo, dir. A Windigo Tale, 2010, DVD. Bernardin, Susan. “Comics, Graphic Novels, and Digital Media,” In The Routledge Companion to Native American Literature, edited by D.L. Madsen, 480–493. ­London: Routledge, 2015. Creed, Barbara. “Ginger Snaps: The Monstrous Feminine as Femme Animale,” In She-Wolf, edited by Hannah Priest, 180–195. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2017. https://doi.org/10.7765/MG/9780719098192.11. Rueben Martell, dir. Don’t Say Its Name, The Chaos, 2021, DVD. DeSanti, Brady. “Classroom Cannibal: A Guide on How to Teach Ojibwe Spirituality Using the Windigo and Film.” Journal of Religion & Film 22, no. 1 (2018): 1–30. ———. “The Cannibal Talking Head: The Portrayal of the Windigo ‘Monster’ in ­ Popular Culture and Ojibwe Traditions.”  Journal of Religion and Popular ­Culture 27, no. 3 (2015): 186–201. https://doi.org/10.3138/jrpc.27.3.2938. Evans, Catherine L. “Heart of Ice: Indigenous Defendants and Colonial Law in the Canadian North-West.”  Law and History Review  36, no. 2 (2018): 199–234. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0738248017000657. Ferrara, Nadia, and Guy Lanoue. “The Self in Northern Canadian Hunting ­Societies: ‘Cannibals’ and Other ‘Monsters’ As Agents of Healing.”  Anthropologica  46, no. 1 (2004): 69–83. Forbes, Jack D. Columbus and Other Cannibals: The Wetiko Disease of Exploitation, Imperialism, and Terrorism. New York: Seven Stories Press, 2008. Accessed December 19, 2022. ProQuest Ebook Central. Gittings, Christopher E. “Canadian Cinema(s).” In The Routledge Companion to World Cinema (1st ed.). edited by Rob Stone, P. Cooke, S. Dennison & A. MarlowMann, 237–251. London: Routledge, 2017. Greer, Allan. The Jesuit Relations: Natives and Missionaries in Seventeenth-Century North America. The Bedford Series in History and Culture. Boston, MA: Bedford/ St. Martin’s, 2000. Hamon, Max. The Audacity of His Enterprise: Louis Riel and the Métis Nation That Canada Never Was, 1840–1875. Montreal: MQUP, 2019. https://search-ebscohostcom.ccl.idm.oclc.org/login.aspx?direct=true&AuthType=sso&db=nlebk&AN=23 59597&site=ehost-live&scope=site. Harring, Sidney L. White Man’s Law: Native People in Nineteenth-Century Canadian Jurisprudence. Toronto, ON: University of Toronto Press, 1998.

Wendigo Psychosis  223 Johnston, Basil. The Manitous: The Spiritual World of the Ojibway. First ed. New York: Harper Collins, 1995. Kanani, Nadia. 2011. “Race and Madness: Locating the Experiences of ­Racialized People with Psychiatric Histories in Canada and the United States.”  Critical ­Disability Discourses  3 (September). https://cdd.journals.yorku.ca/index.php/cdd/ article/view/31564. Knopf, Kerstin. Decolonizing the Lens of Power: Indigenous Films in North ­America. Cross/Cultures. Amsterdam: Brill, 2008. https://search-ebscohost-com.ccl.idm. oclc.org/login.aspx?direct=true&AuthType=sso&db=nlebk&AN=277962&site=e host-live&scope=site. Leggatt, Judith. “Suicide Prevention in Nêhiyawi (Cree) Comic Books.”  Bookbird: A Journal of International Children’s Literature 54, no. 1 (2016): 31–41. Mackenthun, Gesa. “Haunted Real Estate: The Occlusion of Colonial Dispossession and Signatures of Cultural Survival in U.s. Horror Fiction.” Amerikastudien/­ American Studies 43, no. 1 (1998): 93–108. Malloy, Patricia. “Perpetual Flight: the Terror of Biology and Biology of Terror in the Ginger Snaps Trilogy.” Jump cut a review of Contemporary Media. Accessed December 19, 2022. https://www.ejumpcut.org/archive/jc49.2007/GingerSnaps/. Martens, Reuben. “Petromelancholia and the Energopolitical Violence of S­ettler Colonialism in Waubgeshig Rice’s Moon of the Crusted Snow.”  American ­ Imago 77, no. 1 (2020): 193–211. Montaigne, Michel de, and Tina Gianoulis. “Of Cannibals” In  The ­Literature of Propaganda, edited by Thomas Riggs. Gale, 2013. http://ccl.idm.oclc. org/login?url=https://search.credoreference.com/content/entry/galelp/of_ cannibals/0?institutionId=2492. Parkman, Francis. Jesuits in North America in the Seventeenth Century: France and England in North America. Charleston, SC: Nabu Press, 2010. Podruchny, Carolyn. “Werewolves and Windigos: Narratives of Cannibal Monsters in French-Canadian Voyageur Oral Tradition.” Ethnohistory 51, no. 4 (Fall 2004): 677–700. https://doi.org/10.1215/00141801-51-4-677. Sanderson, Steven Keewatin. Darkness Calls. Vancouver: The Healthy Aboriginal Network, 2010. Smallman, Shawn. “Spirit Beings, Mental Illness, and Murder: Fur Traders and the Windigo in Canada’s Boreal Forest, 1774 to 1935.” Ethnohistory 57, no. 4 (2010): 571–596. https://doi.org/10.1215/00141801-2010-037. Tuck, E. and K.W. Yang, K.W. “Introduction.” In Indigenous and Decolonizing ­Studies in Education: Mapping the Long View, edited by Linda Tuhiwai Smith, Eve Tuck, Eve Tuck, K. Wayne Yang, K. Wayne Yang, 1–23. New York: Routledge, 2018. Waldram, James B.  Revenge of the Windigo: The Construction of the Mind and ­Mental Health of North American Aboriginal Peoples. Toronto, ON: University of Toronto Press, 2004. https://doi.org/10.3138/9781442683815. Wonderley, Anthony.  At the Font of the Marvelous: Exploring Oral Narrative and Mythic Imagery of the Iroquois and Their Neighbors. New York: Syracuse ­University Press, 2009.

11 Cuban Hysteria Tracing the Invention of a CultureBound Syndrome (1798–1830) Roseli Rojo

Introduction In 1838, the renowned Cuban physician and surgeon Vicente Antonio de Castro started publishing La Cartera Cubana after multiple unsuccessful attempts of founding a journal in Havana city.1 The first volume opened with an impasioned article on the importance of medicine and the unparalleled role of physicians in advancing Havana’s wellbeing and social education.The aim was to reverse the widespread lack of credibility surrounding them in the colony.2 Under the umbrella of this new physicians’ reputation and function, the journal’s third volume included an article titled Mariano or about Education (Mariano ó la Educacion). This article examined the potential reasons for the failures of Mariano’s instruction, seen as an epitome of Creole youth education.3 The anonymous author, presumably the same De Castro, points to the stern father and, specially, the hysterical mother as the origins of the problem. The author states that: Such marriage enjoyed a happy life according to antiquated costumes: ajiaco, white rice and the girls’ chicken, meaning, for the Lady, and four or five types of desserts encompassed their daily dinners. They always drunk coffee three times per day and have cracklings and fried plantains during lunch. They spent Easter in their sugar mill and most of the years spent long time in Cerro or even Guanabacoa because Lady Marcela suffered hysteria,4 and why… because everybody suffered hysteria, and this was the most convincing reason.5 The excerpt ironically criticizes the inclination of affluent Creole families to recklessly dissipate their fortunes. This insertion places the texts within a broader discourse on Creole consumerism and the prevailing culture of luxury during that era. Furthermore, this lavish lifestyle appears to have arisen as a solution to the ailment – the hysteria that afflicted Lady Marcela. Paradoxically, and even more intriguing, the author implies that hysteria is more of a cultural phenomenon than a medical condition. This portrayal inadvertently censures the traditional societal and familial roles assigned to women. However, regardless of DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-15

Cuban Hysteria  225 the author’s intentions, the textual portrayal of the woman vacillates between demonization and an implied acknowledgment of her capacity for disruption and even social agency. By presenting hysteria as a non-affliction experienced by “everybody,” the author – and the journal as a whole – openly expresses concerns about the influence wielded by individuals labeled as hysterics in the colony. Moreover, the writer recognizes that this non-medical condition has evolved into a contagious epidemic within the city. Then, literature could have been seen as a means to redirect the behavior of the affected group. In doing so, the passage raises multiple questions about the manifestations of hysteria in the city. For instance, did the representations of hysteria in literature mirror the medical conceptions of the time? Who were the individuals afflicted by hysteria, and, consequently, who did this term “everybody” encompass during that period? How did hysteria impact the lives of women in the colony? How was it treated? Was hysteria unanimously conceived as a cultural trend at the beginning of the nineteenth century in Cuba? Did doctors pathologize patients’ bodies as was observed in other Latin American countries after the second half of the XIX century, following the example set by Charcot.6 Following these questions, this chapter traces the evolution of hysteria’s in both in literature and medical documents during the first half of the nineteenth century in Cuba. When discussing hysteria, Cuban doctors situated it within the realm of neurosis, in contrast to organic illnesses with typical symptoms. They attributed it to an unstable symptomatology, encompassing behaviors like yawning, crying, and laughing simultaneously without apparent cause, as well as sensations of suffocation and jerking movements, among others. As Pedro Marqués de Armas has brilliantly established drawing on Foucault, Cuban doctors emphasized the social dimension of hysteria over its clinical aspects. This approach allowed them to reinforce a regimen of bodily control that aligned with the demands of the thriving plantation economy on the island. As will be explored, Cuban writers similarly manipulated the social portrayal of hysteria, transforming it into a culture-bound syndrome in their literary works, with the aim of exerting control over womens lives. Cuban hysteria sheds light on how hysteria’s introduction and literary representation as a culture-bound syndrome functioned to delinate gender politics in alignment with the structure colony’s nuclear family. Furthermore, it uncovers how both physicians and literary authors utilized hysteria to underscore racial and class distinctions within the context of the slavery system. Additionally, it underscores the connections between hysteria and fashion consumerism, as depicted in the analyzed literary works. Ultimately, this chapter accentuates the role of female agency in challenging the control strategies of the male elite, as will be further discussed in the subsequent sections. The first section “Tracing Cuban Medical Hysteria,” analyses hysteria’s medical definitions, its symptoms, and proposed healing methods in the medical work of Francisco Barrera, Tomás Romay, and Carlos Belot. The second section “Hysterical Women in Cuban Literature” studies the literary work of Manuel de Zequeira and José Antonio de la Ossa to understand how they

226  Roseli Rojo depicted hysteria and what purposes could have motivated such literary endeavors. Their literary works anticipated or even formulated some of the term and dimensions that hysteria would acquire within the medical treatises and books of the moment. Their pieces also contribute to understand the linkages between fashion and hysteria and the social repercussion of such bond. The final section, titled “Conclusion: The Aftermath of Cuban Hysteria” briefly explores the legacy of hysteria’s in Cuban medicine and its literary implications. Tracing Cuban Medical Hysteria At the dawn of the eighteenth century, Cuban authorities and sugar planters envisioned the Haitian Revolution as an opportunity to position themselves as a replacement for Saint-Domingue in the global sugar market. Indeed, sugar mills more than doubled in Havana and “with so much more sugar Cuba surpassed Saint-Domingue, overtook Jamaica, and became by the 1820s the world’s largest producer of sugar, the new pearl of the Antilles.”7 The economic upswing concatenated a massive introduction of African people as slaves into the island, who were forced to work in the sugar industry under inhumane conditions. This led to a high mortality rate and widespread illnesses among the enslaved population. Consequently, many slaves perished or became ill, prompting slave owners to search for ways to sustain sugar production while maximizing the use of their enslave labor. In this context, medical professionals began to create manuals aimed at slave owners, offering guidance on how to preserve and prolong the lives of their enslave population. In 1798, the Spanish Doctor Francisco Barrera y Domingo published Reflexiones Historico Fisico Naturales Medico Quirurgicas (hereafter ­Reflexiones) aimed at providing slave owners “practical and speculative entertainment about the life, uses, customs, food, clothing, color and diseases to which African who come to the Americas are prone to.”8 This 894-page book contains the earliest documented reference to an illness associated with hysteria in the medical literature of the island. Interestingly Barrera asserted that diseases related to hysteria were exclusively suffered by black women. However, current approaches insist that hysteria was only associated with white upper-class women in the island; hence Reflexiones relevance for the purposes of the present study. At the beginning of the volume, Barrera conveyed his apprehension regarding the presence of neurotic traits among enslaved individuals. The author urged sugar planters and the physicians associated with sugar mills to be attentive to one of the most detrimental inclinations exhibited by enslave groups, the spleen (el esplín), which he defined as “black and indigenous people embraced the ultimate evil of ending their lives with their own hands.”9 Barrera addressed further into the symptomatology of this condition while discussing the expressions of nostalgia and melancholy among the enslaved individuals: It is a melancholic sadness that [African] suddenly suffered, without delirium, fury, or fever. It arises from a tenacious aversion to all things that can distract them from the idea of returning to their beloved homeland. […] And then, they threw themselves in wells, to rivers, or to the sea.10

Cuban Hysteria  227 Such “morbid melancholy,” as Barrera defined it, triggered a condition known as pneumatosis. This manifested as an incidental affliction among enslaved groups, characterized by “a whisper or sound when compressed, as if it were a bladder full of air.”11 Barrera described two groups of pneumatosis: hypochondriac pneumatosis among male Africans, and hysterical pneumatosis, exclusively found in female Africans. During this initial period of the plantation era on the island, it is likely that male Africans outnumbered females. Consequently, Barrera elaborated on male hypochondriac pneumatosis but only made passing mention of hysterical pneumatosis in his book. According to him, hypochondriac pneumatosis accompanies some male blacks, who surrender to sadness, melancholy, and despair, which is the last thing they do when they have not been able to achieve their depraved plans for revenge against whoever outraged them. This pneumatosis does not manifest itself in the chest or abdomen, but only in the legs.12 The three above-mentioned illness – the spleen, the morbid melancholic, and the hypochondriac pneumatosis – were described with the same imprecise symptomatology. This ultimately exposes Barrera’s lack of comprehension regarding his patients or even raises skepticism about the existence of any of these diseases among enslave groups. Barrera, for instance, affirmed when describing morbid melancholy: “the true and accurate distinction of this sadness and melancholy cannot be verified among blacks, because it has not been possible to investigate their difference.”13 African melancholy served Barrera as a means to rationalize a range of pathologies that would provide justification for medical intervention in the black body to enforce obedience. Similarly to Vicente Antonio de Castro in La Cartera Barrera might have been vindicating his role as a physician within the plantation system by identifying symptoms and pathologizing enslaved individuals. These intentions become more apparent when considering his examination of hysterical pneumatosis in Nosologie Méthodique by the French physician François Boissier de la Croix Sauvages, a book that Barrera translated and referenced in his Reflexiones.14 Sauvages described hysterical pneumatosis as a condition that incapacitates women from walking or working due to swelling in the leg that only manifests during the day. A comparable affliction was noted in hypochondriac pneumatosis, as previously described. Consequently, both instances of hypochondriac and hysterical pneumatosis would result in the inability to walk and work in the sugar mills. This underscores Barrera’s imperative to link these conditions to black enslaved individuals, who were, in reality, grappling with and resisting the horrors of a system in which they were forced to exist. Now, when reading Sauvages’ Nosologie, a notable element noticed is that the French author never indicated that hysterical or hypochondriac pneumatosis were exclusive to either of black or of white people. Certainly, the physician only cited from Germany and Switzerland to formulate the concept of hypochondriac pneumatosis.15 However, this factor does not elucidate why the Spanish

228  Roseli Rojo physician would contend that pneumatosis is exclusive to black individuals. The answer appears to lie in Nouvelle Classes de Maladies, a previous medical work by Sauvages that Barrera might have examined too. Indeed, the gender-based categorization of pneumatosis mirrors Sauvages’ differentiation between hysteria, its seven subtypes, and hypochondria as specified in Nouvelle.16 Interestingly, when establishing this division, Sauvages traced the origin of the illness back to Arabian people.17 Given Spain’s historical context, it’s plausible that this origin might have influenced Barrera’s perspective to the extent of perceiving the ailment as exclusively suffered by black individuals. While this theory cannot be definitively verified, it’s conceivable that Barrera’s Reflexiones channeled and reinforced the racial hierarchy inherent in the slavery system in Cuba. Designating enslave groups as patients and pathologizing their expressions of grief and sadness served as strategies to regulate and control their bodies. By framing the conditions as hysterical and hypochondriac pneumatosis, instead of simply hysteria and hypochondria, Barrera effectively reframed melancholia – into a real illness that needs it to be treated.18 The gender-based division of the illness would persist throughout the first half of the century. This division will be crucial in comprehending the trajectory that hysteria – along with its gender-related counterpart, hypochondria – takes on the island. A few years after Barrera’s assertion of the exclusive association between blackness and gender in hysteria, the Spanish Dictionary of Medicine and Surgery started to circulate. And once again, Sauvages’ concept of hysteria appeared to resonate with Spanish and overseas physicians. The Dictionary stated that “hysteria is a very frequent convulsive disease in women, of which Sauvages has formed a category with several species in his Nosologie.”19 Such perceptions could have influenced Tomás Romay, one of the most distinguished and renowned physicians in the island at the beginning of the XIX century. In Romay’s work, hysteria surfaced in two separate occasions. The initial mention of hysteria appeared in Romay’s discussion about the properties of San Diego’s spring waters in 1807: “¿Las aguas de Cayajabos podrán sustituir a las de San Diego?” (see Figure 11.1). Romay urged the analysis of such waters looking to determine the hydrogen sulfide they contained, vital in the hysteria’s treatment: “the use of these waters will promote urine, perspiration and the suppressed or decreased menstruation due to weakness or some lymphatic obstruction.”20 The discourse highlighted several noteworthy elements. It established spring water’s treatments as one of the primary remedies Cuban physicians employed for treating hysteria. In this instance, Romay proposed a physical remedy. However, as we will observe, some of his successors would opt for moral remedies, aiming to restore health by modifying women’s routines and behaviors. Furthermore, the discourse revealed the extensive prevalence of hysteria in Havana city, to the extent that physicians and authorities had to secure new treatment spaces to accommodate the demand for spring water therapy for afflicted women. Romay’s discourse also demonstrated how physicians continued to perpetuate the gender-based division of hysteria and transformed it into an ailment exclusive to white female individuals. The second mention to hysteria can be found in Descripción de un hermafrodita in 1813. Romay employed the medical term to describe the

Cuban Hysteria  229 symptomatology of the Spanish sailor Antonio Martínez, who was treated in Habana due to his hermaphroditism.21 According to the sailor, all the physicians consulted prior arriving to Havana attributed his physical ailments to “the carnal stimuli propelled by a strong hysteria.”22 The term operated as an empty signifier that could accommodate a wide range of symptoms, serving to establish a stark differentiation from white heterosexual males in both Spain and the colony. The figures of the hysterical-hermaphrodite, the enslaved individuals, and even white women represented outsiders, epitomizing otherness that either exerted control, redirection, or suppression. Hysteria, along with hypochondria, thus became a suitable term to symbolically encapsulate them within this liminal category. Of continuing interest was the question of how to redirect wealthy women’s lives in an attempt to increase birth rates among the white population and to demand them to embrace maternal lactation, a role typically imposed to enslaved nodrizas.23 For such reason, the French Doctor Carlos Belot devoted Observaciones sobre los males que se experimentan en esta Isla de Cuba to instruct Cuban upper-class women in a different lifestyle in 1828. Belot asserted that when young habaneras reach puberty, they became locas: “young habaneras cry, laugh, sing, grieve for no reason,”24 therefore they must restrain themselves from reading passionate novels, attending to theatre, interacting with men, dancing, indulging in pleasures, witnessing gloomy spectacles, and viewing lascivious artwork. By adhering to these guidelines, young habaneras can prevent “hysteria and convulsive enervation.”25 Instead, such young ladies, suggested the French physician residing in Cuba, needed to exercise by walking in the open air in the designated spaces within the walled city.26 Within a few years, physicians redefined the etiology of hysteria in accordance with the colony’s social hierarchy, restricting the imaginary illness to a minority social group. Belot’s diagnosis and remedies could have seemed reasonable for addressing the illness’ symptomatology. However, the physician utilized the narrative of the disease to garner favor from the Governor and the male elite. Simultaneously, this positioning served to elevate his status to the highest echelons within the island’s social sphere. Observaciones condemned young upperclass women to either the domestic sphere or to physically and symbolically guarded outdoor spaces, much like a Foucauldian panopticon. These outdoor spaces included locations such as Alameda de Paula and Paseo de Isabel II.27 Furthermore, by labeling them as locas, Belot subtly hinted at the potential punishment for these disobedient young ladies. A year after the publication of Observaciones, the Beneficence House began to confine women with mental issues in order to address the epidemic of “locas” that the city was experiencing (see Figure 11.2). Although this institution primarily received impoverished women, the physician’s illustrative analogy could serve to caution them about the potential consequences of suffering from or feigning such symptoms. Through the physician’s intervention, Creole authorities strategically crafted ways to curtail the flirtations of wealthy young women. Encouraging birth rates through arranged marriages, with no room for personal interference, was another recommended medical approach to address hysteria within Belot’s work.

Figure 11.1  “San Diego’s Baños” by Frédéric Mialhe28

Figure 11.2  “Casa de Beneficencia (Habana)” by Frédéric Mialhe

232  Roseli Rojo This exploration of the hysteria’s medical trajectory during the first half of the nineteenth century illustrates Elizabeth Williams’ assertion, “that hysteria seems to come and go with changing culture tempers.”29 Having initially been wielded to pathologize black bodies, hysteria underwent an evolution that mirrored the dynamic gender politics of the colony. However, as suggested by Mariano ó de la Educacion (sic), other paths could have existed wherein hysteria transformed into a culture-bound syndrome adopted by white women to contest their prescribed roles within the social framework. The literature of the era presents a context to delve into these potential alternative paths. Hysterical Women in Cuban Literature In 1790, General Captain and Governor Luis de las Casas found Papel Periódico de La Havana, the first long-lasting journal in the colony, a symbol of the new economic era Cuba and Havana city were entering, and a testimony of the elite’s cravings to become a civilized colony, mirroring European nations. Like Spanish journals of the moment, Papel Periódico assumed the leading role in redirecting and censoring behaviors deemed socially inappropriate.30 Promptly, other journals such as Criticón de La Habana and Regañón de La Habana would also contribute to advancing Habana’s prosperity and discipline. From the very outset, the three journals tackled the perceived dangerous liaison between womanhood, luxury, and fashion that Havana experienced. The first explicit mention of hysteria occurred in 1804 in Criticón de La Habana. However, before that ocurred, writers in Papel Periódico and Regañón de La Habana tried to diminish such liaison by employing other similar terms as if they were seeking the proper expression that could encapsulate it. Therefore, the following pages outline how writers depicted such connections until the concept of literary hysteria emerged. Regañon de La Habana, for instance, was published between 1800 and 1840.31 The founder, Buenaventura Pascual Ferrer, lived in Spain for several years. Therefore, Regañón would follow other Spanish journals’ literary and social interests, namely, the city, its inhabitants, and the entertainment world. From its launching to 1802, upper-class women’s behaviors starred a variety of chronicles and articles of manners. During such time, Regañón also counted on José Antonio de la Ossa’s collaboration, another important writer and member of the upper-class society of the time. As matter of fact, De la Ossa wrote more than twenty articles to criticize urban female practices: Story about Wigs (Anécdota sobre las pelucas), About nodrizas (Sobre las nodrizas), Mirrors (Espejos), About the Luxury (Sobre el lujo), Cerro’s Amusements (Diversiones del Cerro), and Women’ Virtues (Sobre virtudes del bello sexo) are some of them. In particular, Sobre el lujo and Espejos are relevant to the present analysis. Sobre el lujo begins by declaring luxury a social defect. To delve deeper into luxury’s implications in Havana, the author creates an allegory through

Cuban Hysteria  233 the story of the members of a rich and white family from Vanitypolis, Don Lujo’s fable. The story recounts that Don Lujo (Mr. Luxury) was the young son of Don Ocio (Mr. Idleness) and his mother Doña Locura (Lady Madness). When the boy Lujo was born, described Ossa, his crazy mother did not want to breastfeed him to avoid spoiling his beautiful figure, so instead, she decided to have a wet nurse from Greedpolis to breastfeed him. Consequently, the boy grew up spoiled and with many vices. Then, instead of choosing to study science he opted to follow female dandies’ examples and became addicted to dances and food. One day, he fell in love with Doña Moda (Lady Fashion), who noticed he was a fashionable man. They had many children who spread throughout the city and to other lands; some of them were named Deuda and Trampa (Debt and Trap). And all the families welcomed Mr. Luxury and Doña Moda into their homes, and suddenly, everybody wanted to be fashionable as well.32 De la Ossa’s fable sought to redirect male young elites. But redirecting them also meant censoring who seemed to be the real problem, women of all ages. In this fragment, they are depicted as female dandies, the incarnation of Fashion itself and mental ill people. De la Ossa creates a genealogy of degenerative female development in the city: they started to consume fashionable items at a young age. Then, they became female dandies – ­petimetras – obsessed with beauty products and incline towards friendships, flirting, and dancing. When they eventually married and had children, they would reject breastfeeding to continue their shallow lives and maintain the appearances. They would spoil their children and allow them to follow in theirs footsteps within the fashionable world, rather than tacking control over the island’s economic industry.33 Paradoxically, luxury and fashion emerged as result of sugar industry itself. With the daily ships’ arrival to Havana, wealthy families had access to a myriad of products. Female consumerism, however, was swiftly perceived as problem to solve because it became a strategy to impose a new role for women in the city: motherhood. Nevertheless, the frequent mention of the petimetra – the loca (crazy-female-dandy) – throughout the first half of the nineteenth century illustrates, on one hand, how women embraced international fashion more than ever; on the other hand, the inclination towards consumerism and fashion led them to adopt urban practices prone to flirting rather than marriage. In Espejos, De la Ossa observed some of such urban practices using a mirror (espejo ustorio) brought to the island by a traveler. The writer and the traveler meet at four o’clock p.m. to witness female and male dandies’ exhibition in carriages all around Isabel Segunda’s Promenade. De la Ossa described how the first character made multiple contortions and gargantuan gestures when observed through the mirror. He was a little monkey whose face resembled a cat’s skull […] These puppets feed on air like chameleons, because the majas34 make them

234  Roseli Rojo believe that only very skinny they would look good […] They are ­fashion martyrs, souls suffering in life.35 It is noteworthy how the author tried to diminish young fashion followers by comparing them to animals and ridiculing their thinness. The fragment also emphasizes the influence of female fashion-obsessed over young men, a topic that the writer further explored in Sobre virtudes del bello sexo. Likewise, Espejos also elaborated on how woman fashion-obsessed experienced passionate outburst that could endanger the lives of young men. First, De la Ossa provides a physical description of the young woman: “eyes protruding and frightful, the nose a lighter and the mouth as misshapen as if it were destined to swallow goats.”36 Then, he continued explaining that the young woman was the embodiment of rage itself. She was possessed by arrogance, clumsiness, and a set of passions extremely violent, because her courtship had not yet arrived in his carriage to the promenade. “There she goes swearing to scratch and slap him as soon as he arrived.”37 Although hysteria is not explicitly mentioned in the article, the description of the passionate outburst can be understood as the author’s effort to find a way to labeled young female behaviors. Additionally Espejos portrayed a petimetra with an extremely curly wigs, “that could compete with Angolans’ hair.” Then, the author added that “she gave an unbridled salute with his fan to each man who passed on the opposite side of the promenade, which looked like a weathercock attached to his arm. She peeked out of the carriage as repeatedly and inordinately that she seemed an espirituada.”38 As can be noticed, De la Ossa associated both female personages with passionate outburst and espiritismo, namely, convulsions and hallucinations, respectively. However, as Espejos illustrates such petimetras – who seemingly represent all young upper-class women – do not suffer that illness, they only appeared to embrace its symptoms and reproduce them. This tendency among upper-class women, which De la Ossa portrayed as generalized problem, can be defined as a female culture-bound syndrome that begins to flourish in the city in response to the discipline imposed upon female bodies. Other writers also contributed to identifying it and perpetuating it. Manuel de Zequeira – a military officer, and poet – served as one of the most prolific Papel Periódico’s writers. In 1800, Zequeira was named the journal’s editor-in-chief. His literary work established him as one of the fiercest advocates of Havana’s civilization and order. According to Emilio Roig, he also collaborated in Criticón de La Habana during the first years of the 1800s.39 In both journals, the culture bound syndrome of the upper-class woman became one of his recurring literary targets. For instance, between 1798 and 1805 Zequeira published Against female dandies (Contra las petimetras), Wigs (Pelucas), Havana’s clock (El Relox de La Havana), Good luck has fit (Buena suerte le ha cabido), Alameda’s promenade (El Paseo de la Alameda), Fashionable women (La mujer de mundo), and Interested love (El amor interesado). These texts explicitly discussed the situation of Creole white women in the colony. 40

Cuban Hysteria  235 In particular, Paseo de la Alameda, written in 1804, aimed to elucidate the causes and propose potencial solution to the issues faced by upper class women in the city. Zequeira stated that There is no young woman, and even those who are not, who does not suffer the disease that they call hysterical, in terms that is almost a universal fashion among young ladies. Thus, it happens that when they are visited, they do not deal with anything other than their vapors, palpitation, fatigue, drowsiness, the artery, their ailments; and not only are they not content to narrate their torments, but many times the guests must examine the tongue, take the pulse, and perform all the functions of a physician. Possessed of these symptoms, the imagination becomes a torment where a ghost that horrifies them is represented. And do we know the cause of such lugubrious ideas? What is the principle of these ailments? I think that if you ask the doctors, they will agree with me that they have no other origin than their passions, excessive luxury, and above all, lack of exercise.41 As Zequeira described, the ailment had spread throughout the entire city. However, for the first time, the symptoms that had been spreading since the beginning of the 1800s were associated with hysteria in literature. Tracing the evolution of medical hysteria highlighted the unstable symptomatology. Therefore, the symptoms experienced by the Creole young women could have been linked to any other potential nervous disease. Why was Zequeira the first to label them as a symptomatology of hysteria, even when his contemporaries, De la Ossa and Buenaventura Pascual Ferrer, never mentioned that specific disease as the one petimetres suffered from.42 It is known that Zequeira and Tomás Romay were colleagues and friends. In fact, it can be demonstrated that Zequiera supported through his literature Romay’s hygienic and medical recommendations proposed for Havana city. For instance, Zequeira published Country life (A la vida en el campo) to endorse Romay’s opinions about the need to improve air quality in order to avoid the spread of miasma. He also wrote “The cemetery” (“El Cementerio”) to support Romay’s proposal to build the General Cemetery of Havana in the city’s outskirts.43 Concomitantly, Zequeira could have been influenced by Romay’s opinion on hysteria. However, even if the classification may have been widely recognized in the material city, Zequeira was the first one to introduce it in literature. More noticeably, Zequeira identified hysteria as a “universal fashion among young ladies,” which allowed him to criticize the fashion phenomenon and, especially, its leading exponents: fashion-obsessed women, namely, petimetras. According to Zequeira, the syndrome of petimetras – refering to all wealthy young ladies – results from the use of volante – carriages that only elites were able to acquire and use in the city – all day along: If there is nothing but a carriage in the morning, a carriage in the afternoon, and a carriage at night, what are we to expect? That all

236  Roseli Rojo the springs of our machine fall into a melancholic hopelessness, that the muscles lose their elasticity, and that the spirit weakens, until a profound languor is subjecting our nerves to the most terrible convulsions. Here is the historical diary of the havaneras: this is the origin of their hysterics, and the beginning of the ailments they suffer.44

Figure 11.3  La Moda o Recreo Semanal del Bello Sexo (1831)

Cuban Hysteria  237 As explained earlier, the focus on women’s lack of exercise could have been part of strategies aimed at redirecting their urban activities and discouraging them from engaging in courtship. However, it is important to note that Zequeira’s criticism of carriages could also have been a means to reduce the influence of African individuals in the city. Indeed, enslaved groups and African emancipados were responsible for driving and maintaining these carriages. Zequeira, De la Ossa, and Pascual Ferrer strongly criticized black carriage drivers, shedding light on the elites’ concerns about the African and Afrodescendant population growth. They feared potential influences from the Haitian Revolution. By compelling women to walk, the elites effectively exerted control over both groups—women and enslaved populations— within the city. Finally, these fragments both foreshadowed the symptomatology, causes, and remedies that Carlos Belot would propose 20 years after Zequeira initially defined hysteria as a syndrome to be addressed. Arguably, this suggests that the efforts of writers and medical interventions were not as fruitful as anticipated. Simultaneously, it underscores women’s perseverance in embracing fashion, using carriages and challenging the prevailing gender politics of the time. In this regard, the most significant aspect of this female struggle and conquest becomes evident in 1829 when Domingo Del Monte – one of the leaders of the literary elite at that moment – established the first literary journal dedicated to fashion, La Moda o Recreo Semanal del Bello Sexo (see Figure 11.3). This venture aligns with what Buenaventura Pascual Ferrer had ironically suggested since 1800 to capture (and guide) the attention of upperclass women: “The foundation of a new journal entitled El Correo de Las Modistas, in which it will be provided details of all the fashions that are coming out. Ladies will be instructed in their uses and preferences.45 Conclusion: The Aftermath of Cuban Hysteria Nearly 20 years after Belot’s Observaciones, Honorato Bernard De Chateausalins authored one of the most debated works on medicine and slavery in Cuba: El Vademecum de los hacendados cubanos (1853). This manual largely differentiated between hysteria and hypochondria. In contrast to Barrera’s perspectives and building upon Belot’s ideas, Chateausalins asserted that neither hysteria nor hypochondria would be prevalent among enslaves or rural populations.46 He insisted that only “civilized” men and women, respectively, would experience such ailments. Paradoxically, upon reading the symptomatology of the malady according to Chateausalins, one cannot help but notice its macabre fluctuations: “the disease is accompanied by a wind like a balloon that seems to rise from the pit of the stomach towards the throat.”47 More than 50 years prior, Barrera might have employed the term “bladder” instead of “balloon” to describe hysterical pneumatosis. Aside from that, Chateausalins’ definition of hysteria appears almost identical. However, in contrast to Barrera, the French

238  Roseli Rojo physician underscored the ailment’s relatively low-risk nature, a critical perspective on the island given the epidemic of hysteria other Latin American countries would face from that moment onward influenced, in part, by Charcot’s experiments at the Salpêtrière. Chateausalins’ Vademecum confirmed once again the somatic rather than psychoanalytic perspective,48 the social rather than the pathologic perspective of the illness prevailed on the island during the first half of the XIX century.49 As this chapter attested, the invention of literary hysteria as a culturalbound syndrome responded to the need to control women’s bodies to increase the growth of the white population on the island. Likewise, the literary syndrome linked the representation of women and enslave as groups to be controlled and redirected. However, the recurring mention of the phenomenon in literature and medicine explains how these procedures could not suppress the need of upper-class women to have agency over their own bodies and to find a space of fulfillment within the colonial city of the moment. Acknowledgment I am grateful for the support of the National Library of Cuba and the Cuban Heritage Collection in permitting the inclusion of the three images that accompany my chapter. Notes 1 Delivered monthly, La Cartera Cubana had several sections – including sciences, literature, and costumes – and sought to become “an effective assistant of order, of laws and of the appropriation of literature and morality’s principles.” The excerpt is part of the journal’s first editorial published by Diario de La Habana in 1838. Please note that all English translations from the original Castilian and French are mine. 2 Other doctors tried to convince Creole upper classes of the importance of medicine, vaccination, and hygiene since the beginning of the XIX century. The Cuban Tomás Romay and the French Carlos Belot were significant examples in that regard. 3 The Creole elite sought to reinforce the study of sciences to guaranty the economic future of the sugar industry in the island. The article also sets out the concern regarding Creole male youth’s reluctance to their homeland’s customs and values. 4 During the first half of the XIX century, Cerro, Guanabacoa, Madruga, and San Diego constituted the wealthy family’s favorite destinations mostly because in such places, women could have spring treatment to remedy hysteria in the socalled “baños.” 5 Anonymous. “Mariano ó de la Educacion.” In La Cartera Cubana, edited by Vicente Antonio de Castro 1, no. 3 (Septiembre 1838): 163–171. 6 See Nouzeilles for an account of hysteria in Argentina after the 1852. See Ibacache to understand hysteria’s dimensions in Chile after 1857. Likewise, see Gorbach to have a deeper understanding of hysteria in Mexico after 1882. 7 Ferrer, Ada. Freedom’s Mirror. Cuba and Haiti in the Age of Revolution. ­Cambridge University Press, 2014, p. 5. Also, Moreno Fraginals explains that “in 14 years, from 1792 to 1806, and only in the bishopric of Havana, the number of

Cuban Hysteria  239 mills rises from 237 to 416.” Moreno Fraginals, Manuel. El Ingenio. Complejo económico social cubano del azúcar. Editorial Crítica, 2001, p. 41. 8 Barrera y Domingo, Francisco. Reflexiones Historico Fisico Naturales Medico Quirurgicas. Ediciones C. R. La Habana, 1953, p. 1. 9 Ibid., p. 2. 10 Ibid., p. 69. 11 Ibid., p. 384. 12 Ibid., p. 384. 13 Ibid., p. 67. 14 See Starkstein and Berrios for a deeper understanding of Sauvages’ Nosologie. 15 Sauvages, François Boissier. Nosologie méthodique ou distribution des maladies en classes, en genres, et en especes, suivant l’spirit de Sydenham et la méthode des botanistes (IX). Chez Jean-Marie Bruyset, Imprimeur-Libraire, 1772, p. 110. 16 Sauvages stated hysteria as “a disease characterized by general convulsions, a habitual and disproportionate fear of not being cured or dying. This disease is analogous to hypochondriac passion (…), to melancholia, especially the one we now call imaginary disease.” Sauvages, François Boissier. Nouvelle Classes de Maladies. D’ Avanville Imprimieur, 1731, p. 258. Such symptomatology would be used to control and redirect white female upper-class bodies in Cuba. 17 Sauvages, François Boissier. Nouvelle Classes de Maladies. D’ Avanville ­Imprimieur, 1731, p. 261. 18 Ibid., p. 258. 19 Sauvages, François Boissier. Nouvelle Classes de Maladies. D’ Avanville ­Imprimieur, 1731, p. 149. 20 Romay, Tomás. “¿Las aguas de Cayajabos podrán sustituir a las de San Diego?” Tomás Romay y Chacón. Obras (I), edited by José López Sánchez, 48–49. La Habana: Imagen Contemporánea, 2005, p. 49. 21 About this topic, see Janssen. He analyzed how melancholy and hysteria were linked to hermaphrodite, eunuchs, and “barbarous people” in late-­seventeenththrough mid-nineteenth-century mental medicine. Also, see De Armas, who analyses this specific fragment to reveal the sexual disciplinary politics in Cuba at the beginning of the XIX century. Marqués de Armas, Pedro. Ciencia y poder en Cuba: Racismo, homofobia, nación. Editoral Verbum, 2014, pp. 19–31. 22 “Descripción de un hermafrodita.” Tomás Romay y Chacón. Obras (I), edited by José López Sánchez, 40–45. La Habana: Imagen Contemporánea, 2005, p. 43. 23 Marqués de Armas associated the hysterical problem with the generalized rich women’s reluctance to breastfeeding in Havana. In Spain and Cuba, it was widely perceived black nodrizas’s milk to be contagious and to cause the ruin of the youngest generation of Spanish and Creoles. See Camacho for a literary analysis of the nodriza’s representation in Cuban literature. See Jones for a brilliant study of the mummy’s depiction in Spanish literature. 24 Belot, Carlos. Observaciones sobre los males que se experimentan en esta isla de Cuba desde la infancia y consejos dados a las madres, y al bello sexo. Nueva York. Impresores libreros, 1828, p. 98. 25 Ibid., p. 113. 26 In 1829, Casa de Beneficencia (Beneficence House) started to receive women with mental disorders, so Casa became women’s asylum, but only for impoverished and homeless women that jeopardized Havana’s visage and order. See Muñoz for a deeper understanding of the Cuban mental illness asylum before 1856. 27 See Niell and García for brilliant approaches to Havana’s architectonical transformations and its racial and gender implications. 28 The image showed how slaves carried sick people on stretchers to the Baños so that they could alleviate their suffering in the spring waters.

240  Roseli Rojo 29 Williams, Elizabeth A. “Hysteria and the Court Physician in Enlightenment France.” Eighteenth-Century Studies 35, no. 2 (2002): 247. 30 This biweekly journal also served to advertise a variety of articles and conveyances, whether to be bought or rented. Moreover, the journal published some of the most important medical debates from the first half of the century. See Vitier to have an insight on its evolution and some of its crucial debates. 31 See Lezama. 32 De la Ossa, José Antonio. “Sobre el lujo.” In El Regañón y el Nuevo Regañón, edited by José Lezama Lima. Comisión Nacional de la UNESCO, 1965, pp. 205–207. 33 Ibid. 34 The writer employed maja, another term to describe female dandies, but largely used in Spain since the XVII century. 35 De la Ossa, José Antonio. “Espejos.” In El Regañón y el Nuevo Regañón, edited by José Lezama Lima. Comisión Nacional de la UNESCO, 1965, p. 197. 36 Ibid. 37 Ibid., p. 198. 38 Ibid., p. 198. 39 Roig de Leuchsenring, Emilio. La Literatura costumbrista cubana de los siglos XVIII y XIX. Oficina del historiador de la Ciudad de La Habana, 1962, p. 61. 40 My article “Petimetres en la urbe: cuerpos en La Habana colonial (1790-1805)” explores the Zequeira and Papel Periódico representation of both female and male dandies in Havana. 41 Zequeira, Manuel. La Literatura costumbrista cubana de los siglos XVIII y XIX, edited by Emilio Roig de Leuchsenring. Oficina del historiador de la Ciudad de La Habana, 1962, p. 71. 42 See Roig to know more about the literary disagreements between Zequeira, De la Ossa, and Pascual Ferrer. During that time, they used aliases to publish their work, and they were constantly criticizing each other. For instance, in “Sobre el lujo,” De la Ossa mentioned that he disagrees with Zequeira’s – Mr. Eguzqui Matado – understanding of luxury in Havana. “Sobre el lujo.” In El Regañón y el Nuevo Regañón, edited by José Lezama Lima. Comisión Nacional de la ­UNESCO, 1965, p. 205. 43 See “Artículo en el que se habla de las necesidades de un ambiente renovado para la vida, y se trata de la composición del aire atmosférico,” Tomás Romay y Chacón. Obras (I), edited by José López Sánchez, 40–45. La Habana: Imagen Contemporánea, 2005, pp. 34–36; and “Descripción del Cementerio General de la Havana,” Tomás Romay y Chacón. Obras (I), edited by José López Sánchez, 40–45. La Habana: Imagen Contemporánea, 2005, pp. 144–149. 44 Zequeira, Manuel de. “Paseo de la Alameda.” In La Literatura costumbrista cubana de los siglos XVIII y XIX, edited by Emilio Roig de Leuchsenring. Oficina del historiador de la Ciudad de La Habana, 1962, p. 72. 45 Ferrer, Buenaventura Pascual. “Sobre epígrafes en latín” In El Regañón y el Nuevo Regañón, edited by José Lezama Lima. Comisión Nacional de la ­UNESCO, 1965, p. 53. 46 De Chateausalins, Honorato Bernard. El Vademecum de los hacendados cubanos o guía práctica para curar la mayor parte de las enfermedades. Imprenta de Manuel Soler, 1854, p. 277. 47 Ibid., p. 279. See Goldgel for a brilliant exploration of fashion in Latin America during the XIX century. Goldgel understands the foundation of fashion journals (La Moda among them) as the Creole elite’s effort to be recognized as a civilized nation through consumerism. In the case of Cuba, “La Moda” and other similar journals need to be perceived as strategies to impose gender policies as well. 48 Likewise, Armando García argued how Cuban physician claimed hysteria and espiritismo as non-scientific problems at the end of the XIX century. García,

Cuban Hysteria  241 Armando. Descubridores de la mente. La frenología en Cuba y España en la primera mitad del siglo XIX. Cosejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 2013. See Lambe to deepen on some hysterical cases the author documented in her study of Mazorra during the XX century. Lambe, Jennifer L. Madhouse. Psychiatry and Politics in Cuban History. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 2017. 49 By the end of the 19th century, writers represented the disease with other medical and racial connotations. In Cecilia Valdés (1882), for instance, Cirilo Villaverde depicted hysterical symptomatology in the mulata Charito, Cecilia’s mother, but she is labeled as “loca,” a mentally ill woman. Villaverde, Cirilo, 1812-1894. Cecilia Valdés. Caracas, Venezuela: Biblioteca Ayacucho, 1981.

References Anonymous. “Medicina.” In La Cartera Cubana, edited by Vicente Antonio de ­Castro 1, no. 1 (Julio 1838): 16–20. Anonymous. “Mariano ó de la Educacion.” In La Cartera Cubana, edited by Vicente Antonio de Castro 1, no. 3 (Septiembre 1838): 163–171. B., A. Diccionario de Medicina y Cirugía. Madrid en la Imprenta Real, 1807. Barrera y Domingo, Francisco. Reflexiones Historico Fisico Naturales Medico ­Quirurgicas. Ediciones C. R. La Habana, 1953. Belot, Carlos. Observaciones sobre los males que se experimentan en esta isla de Cuba desde la infancia y consejos dados a las madres, y al bello sexo. Nueva York. Impresores libreros, 1828. Camacho, Jorge. Miedo negro, poder blanco en la Cuba colonial. Editorial Vervuert, 2015. De Chateausalins, Honorato Bernard. El Vademecum de los hacendados cubanos o guía práctica para curar la mayor parte de las enfermedades. Imprenta de Manuel Soler, 1854. Del Monte, Domingo. “La Moda o Recreo Semanal del Bello Sexo.” Imprenta de D. Lorenzo Maria Fernández, 1831. De la Ossa, José Antonio. “Espejos.” In El Regañón y el Nuevo Regañón, edited by José Lezama Lima. Comisión Nacional de la UNESCO, 1965, pp. 196–200. ———. “Sobre el lujo.” In El Regañón y el Nuevo Regañón, edited by José Lezama Lima. Comisión Nacional de la UNESCO, 1965, pp. 205–210. Ferrer, Ada. Freedom’s Mirror. Cuba and Haiti in the Age of Revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014. Foucault, Michel. Psychiatric Power. Lectures at the College de France, 1973-1974. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006. García, Guadalupe. Beyond the Walled City. Colonial Exclusion in Havana. ­Berkeley: University of California Press, 2016. Goldgel, Víctor Goldgel. Cuando lo nuevo conquistó América. Casa de las Américas, 2016. Gorbach, Frida. “From the uterus to the brain: images of hysteria in nineteenth-­ century Mexico.” Feminist Review 79 (2005): 83–99. Ibacache, Claudia Araya. “La construcción de una imagen femenina a través del ­discurso medico ilustrado. Chile en el siglo XIX.” Historia 1, no. 39 (enero-junio 2006): 5–22. Janssen, Diederik F. “Melancholia Scytharum: the early modern psychiatry of transgender identification.” History of Psychiatric 32, no. 3 (2021): 270–288.

242  Roseli Rojo Jones, Nicholas R. “Casting a Literary Mammy in Diego Sánchez de Badajoz’s Farsa de la hechizera.” University of Toronto Quarterly 88, no. 4 (Fall 2019): 323–345. Lezama Lima, José. “Don Ventura Pascual Ferrer y el Regañón. Prólogo.” El Regañón y el Nuevo Regañón. Comisión Nacional de la UNESCO, 1965, pp. 6–24. Marqués de Armas, Pedro. Ciencia y poder en Cuba: Racismo, homofobia, nación. Editoral Verbum, 2014. Mialhe, Frédéric. “Baños de San Diego (Vuelta de Abajo).” In La Cuba Pintoresca de Frédéric Mialhe by Emilio Cueto, 59. Biblioteca Nacional de Cuba, José Martí, 2010. ———. “Casa de Beneficencia (Habana).” In La Cuba Pintoresca de Frédéric Mialhe by Emilio Cueto, 65. Biblioteca Nacional de Cuba, José Martí, 2010. ———. “Alameda de Paula.” In La Cuba Pintoresca de Frédéric Mialhe by Emilio Cueto, 57. Biblioteca Nacional de Cuba, José Martí, 2010. Muñoz, José Joaquín. Casa de Locos de la isla de Cuba. Reflexiones críticas acerca de su historia y situación actual. E. De Soye, 1866. Nouzeilles, Gabriela. “La plaga imaginaria: Histerua, semiosis corporal y disciplina.” Revista de Crítica Literaria Latinoamericana 26, no. 52 (2000): 173–191. Niell, Paul. Urban Space as Heritage in Late Colonial Cuba: Classicism and ­Dissonance on the Plaza de Armas of Havana, 1754-1828. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2015. Roig de Leuchsenring, Emilio. La Literatura costumbrista cubana de los siglos XVIII y XIX. Oficina del historiador de la Ciudad de La Habana, 1962. Romay, Tomás. “¿Las aguas de Cayajabos podrán sustituir a las de San Diego?” Tomás Romay y Chacón. Obras (I), edited by José López Sánchez, 48–49. La Habana: Imagen Contemporánea, 2005. ———. “Descripción de un hermafrodita.” Tomás Romay y Chacón. Obras (I), edited by José López Sánchez, 40–45. La Habana: Imagen Contemporánea, 2005. Sauvages, François Boissier. Nouvelle Classes de Maladies. D’ Avanville Imprimieur, 1731. ———. Nosologie méthodique ou distribution des maladies en classes, en genres, et en especes, suivant l’spirit de Sydenham et la méthode des botanistes (IX). Chez Jean-Marie Bruyset, Imprimeur-Libraire, 1772. Starkstein, Sergio E., and German E. Berrios. “The ‘Preliminary Discourse’ to Methodical Nosology, by François Boissier de Sauvages (1772).” History of Psychiatry 26, no. 4 (2015): 477–491. Vitier, Cintio, and Fina García Marruz. La literatura en el Papel Periódico de La Havana, 1790-1805. Letras Cubanas, 1990. Zequeira, Manuel de. “Paseo de la Alameda.” In La Literatura costumbrista cubana de los siglos XVIII y XIX, edited by Emilio Roig de Leuchsenring. Oficina del ­historiador de la Ciudad de La Habana, 1962.

12 Digital Culture-Bound Syndromes A Sociocultural Perspective on Human-Technology Interaction, Mental Health, and Communication Cringuta Irina Pelea Introduction More than 60 years have passed since professor Pow Meng Yap used for the first time the highly debated concept of “culture-bound (reactive) syndrome,”1 which is considered one of his significant theoretical contributions to the field of transcultural psychiatry and, in extenso, with an impact on many other related academic fields such as anthropology, cultural studies, or communication sciences. By acknowledging the significant role played by social and cultural factors in the etiology of mental illnesses,2 Yap used this conceptual innovation and its’ alternatives3 to refer to atypical mental illnesses or exotic, erratic, and chaotic behaviors bound to specific cultures. The present chapter aims to reposition Yap’s concept from an interdisciplinary perspective by taking into consideration the increased and overly accelerated digital transformation of contemporary society, which (re-)shapes to an unprecedented-scale human communication, relations, and collective and individual mental health. In the context of the nowadays rapid globalization process and instant social media interconnectivity, traditional cultural boundaries tend to become blurred, and this makes us inquire to what extent such “culture-bound syndromes” remain confined to specific cultural geographies. Likewise, digital technology affects, to a large extent, the creation, distribution, circulation, or preservation/restoration of cultural works and additional cultural and communication practices. The expansion of the digital culture and the multi-leveled progressive technologization are thus ubiquitous and irreversible phenomena Yap did not foresee coming. Furthermore, with the birth of the “digitally native” generations who have undergone extensive exposure to digital technology and social media platforms, difficult questions arise regarding the intersectionality of (digital) culture(s), mental health, holistic therapies, and new communication patterns and behaviors. Therefore, this chapter proposes a theoretical reframing of Yap’s original concept into digital culture-bound syndromes to encompass all the atypical mental health issues or erratic behaviors bound to the digital culture. With an interdisciplinary character, the chapter starts by reviewing relevant academic literature to emphasize the position of our proposed concept. The DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-16

244  Cringuta Irina Pelea second section is dedicated to providing a working definition and framework of the proposed conceptual development; examples of digital culture-bound syndromes and adequate explanations are presented in the third section, followed by a critical introspection of the study’s limitations and future research perspectives. The final section is represented by the conclusions, which summarize the definition and framing criteria of the proposed concept. Literature Review: Academic Discourse on Digital Culture Regardless of the burgeoning body of academic literature on “digital culture(s)” and the pervasive dynamic exchanges between “digital” and “culture,” no clear consensus regarding the definition has been achieved until now. Nevertheless, in the context of this essay, we will acknowledge digital culture as a “socio-cultural reality in which computers, multimedia, and the internet open up new forms of perception of natural, human and social reality.”4 This culture is generated within and by “the infinite potential of cyberspace,” thus “detached from physical geography.”5 Otherwise said, it can also be interpreted as “an emerging set of values, practices, and expectations regarding the way people (should) act and interact within the contemporary network society.”6 Several characteristics are also worth to be mentioned:7 • Digital literacy, which is defined as “the ability to locate and consume, create, and communicate digital content, while simultaneously employing a process of critical evaluation.”8 • Distancing from the source: the ability of the digital forms to acquire independence from their prime source. • Permanence: the irreversible and permanent storage of digital data. • Copiability: digital texts and products are easy to copy, enhancing distribution and sharing as well. • Instantaneousness: digital information is emitted and received instantly. • Interactivity and interconnectivity: constant access and contact. • Perception and experience: digital manipulation of human perception. • Identity: digital identification has become possible thanks to the technological revolution, and yet virtual identity raises many ethical problems. • Insecurity: risk factors are inevitably associated with the digital world. • Speed and virtuality: the human attachment toward virtual cultural objects. • Multitasking: it refers to background media consumption and simultaneous communication practices. • The usage of microtime: technological devices enhanced the instant availability of digital content, knowledge, and communication exchanges. Digital culture is structured on at least five methodological levels:9 • The material level, embodied by the already existing large diversity of ­digital devices and technologies of the society.

Digital Culture-Bound Syndromes  245 • The functional level, represented by the social institutions that make use of digital technologies. • The symbolic level, with the programming languages. • The mental level, with the prevailing attitudes and values generated and reflected by our contact and experience with digital knowledge and specific devices. • The spiritual level, represented by a complex system of cultural and philosophical practices derived from such contact with the digital. Digital Culture and Traditional Culture: Intersections of Alternative Spaces

In light of the above theoretical considerations, we will reflect upon digital culture and traditional culture as two alternative, co-existing, and occasionally overlapping infinite-dimensional spaces, and by any means not rival or opposite. Therefore, on the one hand, we should acknowledge the digitization process of the traditional culture (literature, arts, museums, cultural heritage, etc.) through the instrumentalization of digital technologies, and, on the other hand, the capacity of digital culture to create and develop original products, spaces, and new forms of creativity and expression (social media, marketing, and entertainment platforms, VR, AR, holograms, etc.).10 Such phenomena become impossible to separate, given that both the virtual and real spheres are intimately interrelated, as they frame our existence.11 Moreover, relatively new similar concepts such as “virtual or technological culture, “cyberculture,” and “e-culture” have become very widely used and frequently interchanged in academic literature and popular culture as well.12 Other studies have advanced expressions such as “the culture of digital society” while applying the three-dimensional space of culture13 to the digital sphere for the first time.14 Among these dimensions (spiritual, social, and technological), the spiritual one has the most sensitive and responsive character to external influences. Thus, it becomes the most vulnerable and exposed to external influences.15 Such a paradigm has led to characterizing “the spiritual culture of the digital society” as “a unique phenomenon,” which is, in fact, “facilitated by its intrinsic connection with the virtual world of cyberspace.”16 In this regard, Levin makes an excellent observation: In our times, humans’ spiritual world has been immersed in virtual cyberspace, and the hitherto balance of virtuality and reality has been changed. It is manifested by the transformation of “blurring the boundaries of the real and virtual.” The manifestation of the digital spiritual culture is reflected in the rapid growth of diverse forms of humans’ activities in the network, including creating myriad kinds of texts, photos, and videos of various contents and forms. Prior to the digital age, the production and the publication of contents used to be strictly regulated and were based on a fundamental distinction between the author and his/her readers or viewers. In the digital age, this difference is ­obsolete, as everyone can be an author.17

246  Cringuta Irina Pelea The social culture of the digital society can be defined by “regulations, ­values, and ideals that determine people’s behavior in (cyber-)society and their (online) social interactions.”18 Characterized by “informational openness” and an unprecedented degree of transparency, this cultural facet emphasizes the “connectivity of social media,” which triggers new dynamics of public awareness and shapes mass emotions and actions.19 As the last facet of the cultural space, the technological culture of the digital society has, by excellence, a utilitarian character, and it is focused on “evaluating the technical values and parameters of activities and their products.”20 Nonetheless, the digital revolution of nowadays has affected not only cultural systems but also societies worldwide, which are now forced to undergo at least three significant forms of transformation: first, the distinction between reality and virtuality becomes blurred; likewise, the distinction between human, nature, and the machine becomes superfluous; finally, we are witnessing a reversal from information scarcity to information abundance, otherwise marked by our ubiquitous and unlimited access to a vast amount of data.21 This chain of metamorphoses, otherwise reinforced by the unmatched digital requirement of the COVID-19 pandemic,22 has compromised our previous patterns of thinking and marked thus a drastic change for nowadays contemporary society from its predecessors.23 However, the unparalleled speed of this perpetual digital transformation has generated a harmful side effect: severe disparities in literacy and access to technology.24 Whereas the digital divide between developed and less developed countries and within countries (rural versus urban areas) has inevitably led to pervasive and deeply rooted social inequalities, it has also negatively affected people’s mental health. On the one hand, such digital technologies and tools have multiple benefits in terms of health and social care.25 On the other hand, as the digital revolution advances, such intense engagement with the virtual component is prone to lead to an increased risk of developing or/ and worsening mental health problems, amplifying the social, economic, and cultural marginalization of the less digitally favored ones.26 Mental Health in Digital Culture and Cybersociety

Albeit controversies in providing a single definition of the concept of “mental health” persist, a commonly accepted perspective is the one according to which mental health represents the capacity of each and all of us to feel, think, and act in ways that enhance our ability to enjoy life and deal with the challenges we face. It is a positive sense of emotional and spiritual well-being that respects the importance of culture, equity, social justice, interconnections, and personal dignity.27 The rapid shift to digital channels has led to the enacting of “a hybrid model of care and support” and to the emergence of digital mental health, which

Digital Culture-Bound Syndromes  247 can be looked upon as “information and communication technology used in mental health services delivered or boosted through the internet and related technologies, smartphone and wearable technologies as well as immersive solutions, such as virtual reality and video games).”28 Recent studies have been prompt to demonstrate correlations between the usage of mental health e-services and devices and the improvement of one’s mental health.29 Regardless of such promising perspectives regarding the potentially positive effects of health apps and digital interventions, literature reviews on the technological engagement of the present generation and the ubiquitous character of digital technologies and devices strongly suggest the existence of a consistently negative impact on the users’ mental health. For instance, excessive screen time and exposure to media are usually associated with the likelihood of experiencing a variety of socio-emotional problems of grave concern, such as “high levels of anxiety, sad mood, uncertainty, and other negative emotions like irritability and aggression”;30 up until the point, it may affect “the physical and cognitive development in young children.”31 The COVID-19 pandemic marked a particular moment when digital platforms have been perceived as the only way to develop and sustain the muchrequired socio-emotional connectivity. This has unavoidably led to propelling screen time exposure, thus affecting various sociodemographic categories of users on a global scale.32 Therefore, much of the published work in the fields of communication and mental health has been prompt in emphasizing the high risks of excessive use of technological devices, regardless of their utility, entertainment potential, capacity to create awareness, and emotional connectedness. Some researchers have been quick to nominate engagement with such virtual spaces and devices as the leading cause of the sudden rise in rates of depression, loneliness, anxiety, and suicide, especially among teenagers.33 These ongoing discussions regarding the harmful effects of extensively using social media platforms and similar digital technologies occur simultaneously with increasing concerns regarding not only the worsening of already existing mental disorders but also the emergence of atypical mental health issues. Digital Disease: Theoretical Limitations of an Already Existing Concept The concept of digital disease has been occasionally used by researchers to signify new and atypical mental health problems arising solely from the contact or usage of digital platforms and different technologies.34 Whereas such types of diseases were first medically described in the early 90s, it was not until recently that research started to focus on the emergence, evolving speed, and development of these conditions.35 By definition, the digital disease “arises from the use of social media platforms and problematic digital technology use” and encompasses psychopathological symptomatology;36 thus, it can be considered a new type of mental health issue or disorder. Studies have listed under this umbrella concept the

248  Cringuta Irina Pelea following: cyberchondria, FOMO (fear of missing out), nomophobia (the fear or phobia of being out of mobile phone contact),37 digital (game) addiction, binge-watching, online narcissism, digital cynicism,38 etc. However, we consider this concept to be characterized by a lack of precise definition of the essential characteristics, which might cause confusion. In this sense, we propose the examination of at least two significant shortcomings threatening the conceptual validity of digital disease. 1. The seemingly arbitrary association between “digital” and “disease” and the usage of a broad and non-specific definition a) What we consider to be the first threat to the validity of this concept is that it lacks to include or semantically refer to the “mental” aspect. Whereas a digital disease is acknowledged exclusively as a mental health problem, the juxtaposition of “digital” and “disease” can equally imply the inclusion of physical illnesses arising from one’s connection with the virtual world – which is not the case. Studies have already confirmed that the excessive usage of digital technologies can affect one’s mental state and lead to the development of an extensive range of chronic physical conditions. For example, the excessive use of electronic gadgets poses a high risk of developing musculoskeletal disorders: repetitive strain injuries, tendonitis, De Quervain tenosynovitis, carpal tunnel syndrome,39 and chronic neck pain, to name a few.40 L ­ ikewise, prolonged screen time causes “the computer vision syndrome,” also labeled as “digital eye strain,” which encompasses symptoms such as “eye strain, dryness, irritation, burning sensation, redness, blurred vision, and double vision.”41 Despite already asserting the causal relationship between technology as the triggering factor and the debut of these physical conditions, they are not included by researchers under the conceptual umbrella of digital disease. b) The word “digital” can be employed to refer to technology or related environment without explicitly referring to the cultural dimension, which is the one setting the ground for the debut of these atypical mental conditions. What leads users to develop digital disorders is not the technology alone but our emotions, attachment, social liaisons, interactions, cultural and communication habits, etc., surrounding this technology. 2. Related contexts of usage The second critical issue we raise regarding this concept relates to the existence of similar expressions, which have, in fact, different meanings. A Google search of digital disease will generate mixt and confusing results by listing the following: • digital disease detection • digital disease education

Digital Culture-Bound Syndromes  249 • digital disease prevention • digital disease surveillance Nonetheless, in all the above cases, the “digital” character applies strictly to “detection,” “education,” “prevention,” and “surveillance” of (infectious) disease outbreaks and bears no connection whatsoever to the “disease.” Given the above-stated flaws and the paucity of academic studies in this area, the aim of this chapter is thus theoretical: in the upcoming sections, we set out to introduce, define, describe, and exemplify the concept of digital culture-bound syndrome. A New Concept: Digital Culture-Bound Syndrome In light of the accelerated pace with which the digital sphere has expanded its presence in our lives during the last two decades and, more specifically, during the COVID-19 pandemic, new and atypical mental health issues and disorders have emerged. Proposed Definition

Therefore, we will define a digital culture-bound syndrome in the following manner: “a distressing deviance from the usual behavior, cognitions, or affect characterizing individuals connected to the digital culture and caused by the usage or interfering of technology with the way they experience life.” A distressing deviance can be interpreted as “a behavioral problem” or “a troubling pattern of thinking, emotions or suffering.” In this context, “digital culture” and “technology” can encompass apps, gadgets, social media platforms, and networks such individuals use to connect, communicate and share knowledge. We suggest the following synonyms for the digital culture-bound syndrome (DCBS): • • • •

digital cultural syndrome digital culture-specific disorder cultural concept of digital distress idiom of digital distress

Framing Criteria

We propose the following criteria for identifying a DCBS:42 • Localization: individuals, groups, societies, cultures, etc., connected to the digital cultural space. • Limitation: to the digital society and culture. Needless to say, the digital gaps between different countries and regions can impact or limit the ­emergence or frequency of a DCBS.

250  Cringuta Irina Pelea • Cause: symptomatology enhanced or triggered by the interference or usage of technologies and digital cultural factors (customs, values, behaviors, and social norms associated with the digital culture). • Naming: it may be connected or inspired by a specific gadget, device, social media platform, habits of using technology, or any other aspect inspired by one’s contact with the digital culture. • Recognition: it is labeled both online and offline as a consistent deviation from what is internally perceived as mentally and physically “healthy.” Examples of Digital Culture-Bound Syndromes Several disordered and aberrant patterns of behavior and thinking have been previously analyzed by researchers and even occasionally labeled as digital diseases. Considering the above definition and criteria, we suggest (re)labeling and including these conditions as DCBSs or any of the synonyms already mentioned. We will start by briefly reviewing mental health conditions previously labeled as a digital disorder: binge-watching, cyberchondria, digital cynicism, FOMO, internet/computer and video games addiction, nomophobia, and online narcissism. Afterward, we will proceed by describing a set of mental health phenomena arising from one’s SNS connectivity, usage of digital devices, apps, and additional digital platforms: digital depression, digital self-harm, doomscrolling, selfie addiction, Snapchat/filter dysmorphia, Zoom dysmorphia, and Zoom fatigue. Binge-watching

Binge-watching is a potentially harmful and presumed addictive media and TV-watching behavior characterized by “watching multiple episodes of TV series back-to-back.”43 The triggering factor is the immediate gratification provided by the media immersion, which may lead to losing self-control and thus spending much more time invested in watching TV programs than the viewer initially wanted.44 Studies have also emphasized the correlation between this excessively addictive behavioral problem and the emergence of other mental health issues, such as depression, insomnia,45 chronic fatigue, or the negligence of work-related tasks and social relationships. It has been likened to other behavioral addictions, such as internet and video game addiction, or linked to problematic social media use.46 Cyberchondria

Cyberchondria is “the unfounded escalation of concerns about common symptomatology, based on the review of search results and literature on the web.”47 What laid the onset for this compulsive health-related internet use is the abundance of intuitive diagnostic websites and the vast volume of health

Digital Culture-Bound Syndromes  251 information-related sources available online, among which a significant ­portion may have an unreliable and untrustworthy character.48 Considered the “21st-century counterpart to hypochondriasis,”49 this increased anxiety is associated thus with excessive or/and repeated online health-related searches and has reached a high new level during the COVID-19 pandemic. Internet/Computer and Video Game Addiction

Widely known as the excessive or compulsive usage of computers and video games until it interferes with one’s life,50 the global spreading of this behavioral problem has recently started to be perceived as a significant concern for public health. As a response, specialized clinics and specific programs have been established worldwide. Furthermore, a significant number of empirical studies have identified a broad spectrum of potentially addictive online activities: smartphone, apps and social media use, texting/sexting, streaming videos, and online pornography.51 FOMO

The expression “fear of missing out,” usually abbreviated FOMO, has been defined as a psychological construct of the digital age,52 encompassing two significant components: first, “the perceived necessity to remain connected with one’s social network,” and second, the apprehension of missing rewarding experiences enjoyed by the others.53 Consequently, the digital user will make use of the behavioral relieving strategy of compulsively and obsessively checking SNS, messaging services, and social media notifications. ­Characterized as “an anxiety-provoking construct in popular media,”54 this form of distress is experienced especially by individuals with an increased attachment to social media.55 Nomophobia

Considered a type of smartphone addiction, nomophobia is the fear or phobia of being out of mobile phone contact and emerged in the digital age as a consequence of the (excessive) use of smartphones and their continuous expansion into contemporary society.56 This intense and irrational anxiety and distress encompasses four facets:57 fear of inability to communicate; fear of losing connectedness and being alone; fear of lacking immediate access to information; and fear of abandoning the comfort provided by mobile devices.58 Online Narcissism

If traditional narcissism encompasses traits such as considering one’s self better than others, constantly seeking appreciation from outside, and continuously engaging in behavioral and thinking self-centered patterns,59 online or

252  Cringuta Irina Pelea cyberspace narcissism transfers such tendencies to one’s “online persona,” which is different from the real-life self. 60 The toxic culture of online narcissism has been mainly observed among Millennials, who are prone to engage in obsessive selfie-taking and selfie-sharing practices, exhibitionism, and other attention-seeking behaviors online and on SNS (compulsive attention and interest toward one’s number of online friends and/or followers, the number of likes one receives or impulsively checking the number of notifications, etc.).61 Digital Depression

Although studies have assessed the effect of prolonged screen time, digital devices, media, and social networks on depression, anxiety, and related symptomatology,62 especially among children and teenagers, very little research has been conducted on this particular “new disease of the ­Millenium.”63 Social media (over)usage and smartphone addiction entertain a causal relationship with the emergence and worsening of depressive symptoms, solitude, isolation, and suicide ideation. The triggering factors of digital depression are “negative feelings engendered by cyberbullying, sexual harassment, and increased drug use, all abetted by social media platforms.”64 Clinical studies assert that the rate of depression among adolescents has at least doubled, compared to a decade ago, despite the lack of any plausible biological explanation. The emergence of “this new illness of anxiety and depression”65 has been culturally linked with “the invention of the smartphone and digital technology.”66 Digital Self-harm

Despite the scarcity of research available on the topic at the moment, this negative phenomenon is on the rise, as data shows it.67 Also known as “digital Munchausen,” “self-trolling,” “self-cyberbullying,” or “cyber self-harm,”68 this virtual form of self-harm is defined as “the anonymous online posting, sending, or otherwise sharing of hurtful content about oneself.”69 According to another perspective, it represents the “online communication and activity that leads to, supports, or exacerbates, non-suicidal yet intentional harm or impairment of an individual’s physical wellbeing.”70 In this regard, joining various online communities encouraging the normalization of particular psychopathologies such as eating disorders or the practice of non-suicidal self-injury can be considered a type of digital self-harm.71 The self-destructive form of digital behavior is prevalent among teenagers and young people who present a higher risk of being ostracized and/or victims by their peers.72 Doomscrolling/Doomsurfing versus Cheerscrolling

As a new digital behavior arising since the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic, it represents “the act of consuming an endless procession of negative online news, to the detriment of the scroller’s mental wellness.”73 Although

Digital Culture-Bound Syndromes  253 the magnitude and duration of the negative effect exerted by doomscrolling remain unclear, several studies have already highlighted the damaging effect of consuming social media during the midst of an ongoing traumatic social phenomenon with an impact on a global scale, such as the extraordinary pandemic situation. Other scholars have extended the definition of the phenomenon to allow a more inclusive perspective. Connected to a “constant state of alertness,”74 doomscrolling represents an association between “the content of dark unsettling news”; behavioral patterns of monitoring news from one’s smartphone; extra-attention to the news stream, which creates “emotional drain through a flow which users find hard to get out of.”75 Therefore, overexposure to a pandemic or other traumatic event-related media narratives is prone to increase one’s fear and anxiety, thus negatively affecting the user’s mental well-being.76 Selfie Addiction

Also known as the “selfie syndrome” or “selfitis,” it is a highly prevalent condition among Millennials aged 22–37 years. “This epidemic plaguing”77 of selfies has already been acknowledged as a mental disorder and defined by the American Psychiatric Association as “an obsessive-compulsive desire to take photos of one’s self and post them on social media as a way to make up for the lack of self-esteem and to fill a gap in intimacy.” Characterized as a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder centered on the inflammation of one’s ego, it is divided into three types, according to the severity of the condition, dictated by the number of selfies one takes per day: borderline, acute, and chronic severe.78 If unable to take and/or post selfies, the addicted user presents symptomatology similar to some extent to the withdrawal symptoms of certain drugs.79 Snapchat Dysmorphia/Digital Filter Dysmorphia

It is a new mental-health phenomenon that compelled teens and young users to undergo sometimes drastic plastic surgery to imitate looks according to the image delivered by their phone camera filters, especially Snapchat and Instagram filters.80 Considered a digital variant of body dysmorphic disorder, this obsessive need to replicate social media filters is linked with the sociocultural requirements of the digital environment, among other growing trends, such as the already expanding role of social media and the continuously increasing concern of the young population toward their appearance.81 Zoom Dysmorphia

Following the global Coronavirus disease (COVID-19) outbreak, another pandemic of digital dysmorphia82 has taken over: Zoom dysmorphia, triggered by the massive shift of the population to telework and tele-education. In this context of forced isolation, videoconferencing applications like Zoom gained

254  Cringuta Irina Pelea immense popularity and are looked upon as “primary means of c­ ommunication for social or work events and meetings.”83 Overexposure to one’s image on camera during videoconferencing has heightened anxiety regarding one’s appearance, together with the potential of the filters to mend any supposed facial imperfections.84 Furthermore, the early months of the pandemic have registered a noticeable and increased interest in various cosmetic procedures, hence the causal relation between (over-)using Zoom application for videoconferencing and such a high rate of interest in cosmetic enhancements.85 Zoom Fatigue

As another mental health–related new concept that has arisen during the pandemic, it can be defined as “somatic and cognitive exhaustion that is caused by the intensive and/or inappropriate use of videoconferencing tools, frequently accompanied by related symptoms such as tiredness, worry, anxiety, burnout, discomfort, and stress, as well as other bodily symptoms such as headaches.”86 Hence, the expression “Zoom fatigue” can be used as a synonym for videoconference fatigue, and it may apply as well to the exhaustion or burnout, which arises thus as a “consequence of a prolonged and inappropriate use of a wide variety of videoconferencing tools.”87 Several potential root causes of the phenomenon have been identified: asynchronicity of communication, lack of emotion recognition through body language, lack of eye contact, high level of self-awareness (caused by the necessity of looking into one’s screen as into a mirror), unnatural interaction with multiple faces, and multitasking during videoconferences.88 This “stress-related depletion of physiological and cognitive resources”89 is considered an “insidious and debilitating video-meeting-mediated disorder,”90 and has been proposed for inclusion in international diagnostic classifications. Limitations and Future Perspectives of the Study The interdisciplinary approach can be considered the first potential limitation of the present study, which does not propose the expression of “digital culture-bound syndrome” to serve as a medical or clinical diagnostic but to act as a dynamic conceptual bridge between communication sciences, cultural studies, and social anthropology. Furthermore, the already existing scarcity of studies and significant research gaps regarding digital diseases might be perceived as a disadvantage in structuring the theoretical background of the paper. Likewise, another critical issue is the diagnostic overlap of such forms of digital distress with already existing psychiatric disorders, otherwise said, their intersectionality with already acknowledged pathologies. For instance, “filter or social media dysmorphia” presents similarities with “body dysmorphic disorder,” and “online narcissism” with “narcissistic behavior” outside cyberspace. Notably, we purposely omitted from the present review

Digital Culture-Bound Syndromes  255 conditions such as “cybersickness,” “digital cynicism,” and “online ­gaming.” Hence, the provided list of examples is far from being exhaustive. Similar to what researchers have already pointed out in the case of ­culture-bound syndromes, the vague boundaries and variety of different theoretical perspectives surrounding the conditions we have briefly characterized as “cultural concepts of digital distress” represent other compelling aspects that deserve further investigation. For example, selfie addiction and other obsessive-compulsive behaviors associated with FOMO, such as constantly checking one’s notifications and the number of “likes” on social networks, can be interpreted as markers of online narcissism. Future research directions can examine how the social dynamics and juxtaposition of traditional and digital culture impact the emergence, development, and (re-)shaping of such expressions of digital distress. Cross-cultural variations in systems of values, social norms, and beliefs could generate consistent particularities in how individuals experience digitally rooted mental health problems. As an example, social media dysmorphia in Western versus East Asian societies is prone to be characterized by significant cultural differences, given that beauty ideals are highly influenced by sociocultural variables. Finally, only time will tell how the much-expected global expansion of the holographic industry, virtual and augmented reality, will affect people’s mental health and what other manifestations of digital distress will arise from one’s (prolonged) contact and use of mixed reality spectrum technologies. Conclusions The present study introduced and presented the innovative concept of “digital culture-bound syndrome,” to encompass the atypical mental health conditions and phenomena arising from one’s connection to the digital culture (platforms, tools, usage of specific technological devices, etc.). Furthermore, following the already existing framework of culture-bound syndromes, we suggested a working definition and additional framing criteria for our proposed concept. As synonyms, we regard as adequate the following ones: “digital cultural syndrome,” “cultural concept of digital distress,” and “idiom of digital distress.” Moreover, we consider the above-mentioned and briefly explained mental health issues  bound to the sociocultural reality of the digital world. In the case of selfie or filter addictions (Snapchat, Instagram, Zoom, etc.), together with digital dysmorphia, what contributes to the emergence and worsening of these problems are the cultural values and beliefs associated with the digital environment: among many others, the increasing perfectionism, the self-esteem bolstering, and the fluctuating ideal of the female or male body. Other examples, such as FOMO (the fear of missing out), nomophobia, or digital self-harm, seem to rely more upon our need to belong to the digital ecosystem(s), emotions, or irrational fears. Ultimately, all the

256  Cringuta Irina Pelea above conditions are bound to the digital culture and can be interpreted as ­expressions of how digital culture impacts the way we experience various forms of emotional distress. Albeit cultural-specific mental illnesses are prone to the risk of gradually fading away in the era of globalization, together with one’s cultural identity and diversity, it seems that forms of digital distress such as the ones reviewed in the previous sections are rapidly spreading within nowadays society. ­Furthermore, considering the irreversible and ongoing technologization and digitalization of our sociocultural landscape, new types of digitally induced distress are expected to emerge, thus irreversibly repositioning human-­ technology interaction, mental health, and communication exchanges. Notes 1 P. M. Yap, “Classification of the Culture-Bound Reactive Syndromes,” Australian and New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry 1, no. 4 (1967): pp. 172–179, https://doi. org/10.3109/00048676709159191. 2 P. M. Yap, “Words and Things in Comparative Psychiatry, with Special Reference to the Exotic Psychoses,” Acta Psychiatrica Scandinavica 38 (1962): pp. 163–169. 3 P. M. Yap, ibid. 4 D.M. Prostova, N.G. Sosnina, and O.L. Sokolova, “The Model of Teachers’ ­Digital Culture in the Economic Environment of the Region,” Proceedings of the 2nd International Scientific and Practical Conference on Digital Economy (ISCDE 2020), 2020, https://doi.org/10.2991/aebmr.k.201205.008. 5 Grant Bollmer, Theorizing Digital Cultures (London: Sage Publications, 2018), 28. 6 Mark Deuze, “Participation, Remediation, Bricolage: Considering Principal Components of a Digital Culture,” The Information Society 22, no. 2 (2006): pp. 63–75, https://doi.org/10.1080/01972240600567170. 7 Árpád Rab, “Slow-Tuning Digital Culture,” Acta Univ. Sapientiae, Social ­Analysis 5 (2015): pp. 15–27. 8 Hiller A. Spires, Casey Medlock Paul, and Shea N. Kerkhoff, “Digital Literacy for the 21st Century,” Advances in Library and Information Science, 2019, pp. 12–21, https://doi.org/10.4018/978-1-5225-7659-4.ch002. 9 D V Galkin, “Digital Culture: Methodological Issues of Cultural Dynamic Research from Digital Automaton to Techno-Bio-Creatures.,” International Journal of Cultural Research 3 (2012): pp. 11–12. 10 Pau Alsina, “From the Digitization of Culture to Digital Culture. Presentation,” Digithum 0, no. 12 (2010), https://doi.org/10.7238/d.v0i12.911. 11 Pau Alsina, ibid. 12 Aleksandra Uzelac, “How to Understand Digital Culture: Digital Culture - a Resource for a Knowledge Society?” in Digital Culture: The Changing Dynamics, ed. Aleksandra Uzelac and Biserka Cvjetičanin (Institute for International Relations, 2008), pp. 7–21, https://www.researchgate.net/publication/257537251_How_to_understand_digital_culture_Digital_culture_-_a_resource_for_a_knowledge_society. 13 According to this model, the cultural space of humanity is supported by three axes (knowledge, values, and regulations) and formed by the following facets: social, spiritual, and technological. 14 Ilya Levin, “Cultural Trends In A Digital Society,” Proceedings of Competitive Engineering TMCE, 2014, ISBN 978-94-6186-177-1, https://www.tau. ac.il/~ilia1/publications/budapestculttrends.pdf. 15 Ilya Levin, ibid. 16 Ilya Levin, ibid.

Digital Culture-Bound Syndromes  257 7 Ilya Levin, ibid. 1 18 Ilya Levin, ibid. 19 Ilya Levin, ibid. 20 Ilya Levin, ibid. 21 Ilya Levin and Dan Mamlok, “Culture and Society in the Digital Age,” Information 12, no. 2 (May 2021): p. 68, https://doi.org/10.3390/info12020068. 22 Donatella Padua, Digital Cultural Transformation: Building Strategic Mindsets via Digital Sociology (Cham: Springer, 2021), p. 29. 23 Levin and Mamlok, ibid. 24 Jan van Dijk, “The Digital Divide in Europe,” in The Handbook of Internet Politics, ed. Andrew Chadwick and Philip N. Howard (London: Routledge, 2009). 25 Ali Cheshmehzangi, Tong Zou, and Zhaohui Su, “The Digital Divide Impacts on Mental Health during the COVID-19 Pandemic,” Brain, Behavior, and Immunity 101 (2022): pp. 211–213, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.bbi.2022.01.009. 26 Panagiotis Spanakis et al., “The Digital Divide: Amplifying Health Inequali ties for People with Severe Mental Illness in the Time of Covid-19,” The British Journal of Psychiatry 219, no. 4 (2021): pp. 529–531, https://doi.org/10.1192/ bjp.2021.56. 27 “The Human Face of Mental Health and Mental Illness in Canada” (Public Health Agency of Canada, Mood Disorders Society of Canada, Health Canada, Statistics Canada, Canadian Institute for Health Information, 2006), https://www.phacaspc.gc.ca/publicat/human-humain06/pdf/human_face_e.pdf. 28 Luke Balcombe and Diego De Leo, “Digital Mental Health amid COVID-19,” Encyclopedia 1, no. 4 (2021): pp. 1047–1057, https://doi.org/10.3390/ encyclopedia1040080. 29 Luke Balcombe and Diego De Leo, ibid. 30 Apurvakumar Pandya and Pragya Lodha, “Social Connectedness, Exces sive Screen Time during COVID-19 and Mental Health: A Review of Current Evidence,” Frontiers in Human Dynamics 3 (2021), https://doi.org/10.3389/ fhumd.2021.684137. 31 Kira Durham et al., “Digital Media Exposure and Predictors for Screen Time in 12-Month-Old Children: A Cross-Sectional Analysis of Data from a German Birth Cohort,” Frontiers in Psychiatry 12 (2021), https://doi.org/10.3389/ fpsyt.2021.737178. 32 Apurvakumar Pandya and Pragya Lodha, ibid. 33 Candice L. Odgers and Michaeline R. Jensen, “Annual Research Review: Adolescent Mental Health in the Digital Age: Facts, Fears, and Future Directions,” ­Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 61, no. 3 (2020): pp. 336–348, https://doi.org/10.1111/jcpp.13190. 34 Gökmen Karadag, ed., Digital Diseases: Symptoms of the Internet Era (Bern: Peter Lang AG, 2020). 35 Olkan Betoncu and Fezile Ozdamli, “The Disease of 21st Century: Digital ­Disease,” TEM Journal 8, no. 2 (May 2019): pp. 598–603, https://doi.org/ 10.18421/TEM82-37. 36 Antonio-Manuel Rodríguez-García, Antonio-José Moreno-Guerrero, and Jesús López Belmonte, “Nomophobia: An Individual’s Growing Fear of Being without a Smartphone—a Systematic Literature Review,” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 17, no. 2 (2020): p. 580, https://doi. org/10.3390/ijerph17020580. 37 Olkan Betoncu and Fezile Ozdamli, ibid. 38 Gökmen Karadag, ibid. 39 EmanSalem Al Shahrani and NorahAli Al Shehri, “Association between Smartphone Use and Carpal Tunnel Syndrome: A Case-Control Study,” Journal of Family Medicine and Primary Care 10, no. 8 (2021): p. 2816, https://doi.org/10.4103/ jfmpc.jfmpc_2458_20.

258  Cringuta Irina Pelea 40 Sheela Gupta, “Impacts of Excessive Uses of Electronic Gadgets on Behavioural Patterns,” Indian Journal of Scientific Research 11, no. 2 (2021): p. 93, https:// doi.org/10.32606/ijsr.v11.i2.00016. 41 “Computer Vision Syndrome,” Aoa.org, accessed December 19, 2022, http:// aoa.org/patients-and-public/caring-for-your-vision/protecting-your-vision/ computer-vision-syndrome. 42 Antonio Ventriglio, Oyedeji Ayonrinde, and Dinesh Bhugra, “Relevance of Culture-Bound Syndromes in the 21st Century,” Psychiatry and Clinical ­Neurosciences 70, no. 1 (2015): pp. 3–6, https://doi.org/10.1111/pcn.12359. 43 Maèva Flayelle et al., “Binge-Watching: What Do We Know so Far? A First ­Systematic Review of the Evidence,” Current Addiction Reports 7, no. 1 (2020): pp. 44–60, https://doi.org/10.1007/s40429-020-00299-8. 44 Jolanta A. Starosta and Bernadetta Izydorczyk, “Understanding the Phenomenon of Binge-Watching—a Systematic Review,” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 17, no. 12 (2020): p. 4469, https://doi. org/10.3390/ijerph17124469. 45 Zainab Alimoradi et al., “Binge-Watching and Mental Health Problems: A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis,” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 19, no. 15 (June 2022): p. 9707, https://doi. org/10.3390/ijerph19159707. 46 Jolanta A. Starosta and Bernadetta Izydorczyk, ibid. 47 Ryen W. White and Eric Horvitz, “Cyberchondria,” ACM Transac tions on Information Systems 27, no. 4 (2009): pp. 1–37, https://doi. org/10.1145/1629096.1629101. 48 Vladan Starcevic et al., “Cyberchondria in the Time of the COVID-19 Pandemic,” Human Behavior and Emerging Technologies 3, no. 1 (2020): pp. 53–62, https:// doi.org/10.1002/hbe2.233. 49 Vladan Starcevic et al., ibid. 50 Paul Weigle, “Internet and Video Game Addiction: Evidence & Controversy,” Adolescent Psychiatry 4, no. 2 (2014): pp. 81–91, https://doi.org/10.2174/22106 7660402140709120337. 51 Clifford J. Sussman et al., “Internet and Video Game Addictions,” Child and Adolescent Psychiatric Clinics of North America 27, no. 2 (2018): pp. 307–326, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.chc.2017.11.015. 52 Jon D. Elhai, Haibo Yang, and Christian Montag, “Fear of Missing out (FOMO): Overview, Theoretical Underpinnings, and Literature Review on Relations with Severity of Negative Affectivity and Problematic Technology Use,” Brazilian Journal of Psychiatry 43, no. 2 (2021): pp. 203–209, https://doi. org/10.1590/1516-4446-2020-0870. 53 Andrew K. Przybylski et al., “Motivational, Emotional, and Behavioral Correlates of Fear of Missing Out,” Computers in Human Behavior 29, no. 4 (2013): pp. 1841–1848, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.chb.2013.02.014. 54 Jon D. Elhai, Haibo Yang, and Christian Montag, ibid. 55 Feilina Sutanto, Riana Sahrani, and Debora Basaria, “Fear of Missing out (FOMO) and Psychological Well-Being of Late Adolescents Using Social Media,” Proceedings of the 2nd Tarumanagara International Conference on the Applications of Social Sciences and Humanities (TICASH 2020), 2020, https://doi. org/10.2991/assehr.k.201209.071. 56 Antonio-Manuel Rodríguez-García, Antonio-José Moreno-Guerrero, and Jesús López Belmonte, ibid. 57 Caglar Yildirim and Ana-Paula Correia, “Exploring the Dimensions of ­Nomophobia: Development and Validation of a Self-Reported Questionnaire,” Computers in Human Behavior 49 (2015): pp. 130–137, https://doi.org/10.1016/j. chb.2015.02.059.

Digital Culture-Bound Syndromes  259 58 Anuar Ali et al., “The Relationship between Phone Usage Factors and ­Nomophobia,” Advanced Science Letters 23, no. 8 (January 2017): pp. 7610– 7613, https://doi.org/10.1166/asl.2017.9534. 59 W. Keith Campbell, Eric A. Rudich, and Constantine Sedikides, “Narcissism, SelfEsteem, and the Positivity of Self-Views: Two Portraits of Self-Love,” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 28, no. 3 (2002): pp. 358–368, https://doi. org/10.1177/0146167202286007. 60 Chih-Hung Chou and C. K. Farn, “Toward to Measure Narcissistic Personality in Cyberspace: Validity and Reliability,” Psychology 06, no. 15 (2015): pp. 1984–1994, https://doi.org/10.4236/psych.2015.615196. 61 Shawn M. Bergman et al., “Millennials, Narcissism, and Social Networking: What Narcissists Do on Social Networking Sites and Why,” Personality and Individual Differences 50, no. 5 (2011): pp. 706–711, https://doi.org/10.1016/j. paid.2010.12.022. 62 Evon M. Abu-Taieh et al., “Factors Affecting the Use of Social Networks and Its Effect on Anxiety and Depression among Parents and Their Children: Predictors Using ML, SEM and Extended Tam,” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 19, no. 21 (2022): p. 13764, https://doi.org/10.3390/ ijerph192113764. 63 Evon M. Abu-Taieh et al., ibid. 64 S. N. Ghaemi, “Digital Depression: A New Disease of the Millennium?,” Acta Psychiatrica Scandinavica 141, no. 4 (March 2020): pp. 356–361, https://doi. org/10.1111/acps.13151. 65 S. N. Ghaemi, ibid. 66 S. N. Ghaemi, ibid. 67 Rinjani Soengkoeng and Ahmed A. Moustafa, “Digital Self-Harm: An Examination of the Current Literature with Recommendations for Future Research,” Discover Psychology 2, no. 1 (September 2022), https://doi.org/10.1007/ s44202-022-00032-8. 68 Rinjani Soengkoeng and Ahmed A. Moustafa, ibid. 69 Justin W. Patchin, “Digital Self-Harm: The Hidden Side of Adolescent Online Aggression,” Cyberbullying Research Center, accessed December 19, 2022, https://cyberbullying.org/digital-self-harm. 70 Jessica Pater and Elizabeth Mynatt, “Defining Digital Self-Harm,” Proceedings of the 2017 ACM Conference on Computer Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing, 2017, https://doi.org/10.1145/2998181.2998224. 71 Rinjani Soengkoeng and Ahmed A. Moustafa, ibid. 72 Rinjani Soengkoeng and Ahmed A. Moustafa, ibid. 73 Brita Ytre-Arne and Hallvard Moe, “Doomscrolling, Monitoring and Avoiding: News Use in COVID-19 Pandemic Lockdown,” Journalism Studies 22, no. 13 (2021): pp. 1739–1755, https://doi.org/10.1080/1461670x.2021.1952475. 74 Ludmila Lupinacci, “‘Absentmindedly Scrolling through Nothing’: Live ness and Compulsory Continuous Connectedness in Social Media,” Media, Culture and Society 43, no. 2 (November 2020): pp. 273–290, https://doi. org/10.1177/0163443720939454. 75 Brita Ytre-Arne and Hallvard Moe, ibid. 76 Brita Ytre-Arne and Hallvard Moe, ibid. 77 Shivali Sharma, “Addiction of Selfies and Social Networking Sites: An Epi demic Plaguing the Human Race across the Globe,” Journal of emerging technologies and innovative research, 1AD, https://www.semanticscholar. org/paper/Addiction-of-Selfies-and-Social-Networking-Sites%3A-Sharma/ cdf5b706a7b1c8d9530b2b5a752d1a863ca61995. 78 Sanchita Singh and Kaushlendra Mani Tripathi, “Selfie: A New Obsession,” SSRN Electronic Journal, 2016, https://doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.2920945.

260  Cringuta Irina Pelea 9 Shivali Sharma, ibid. 7 80 Kamleshun Ramphul and Stephanie G Mejias, “Is ‘Snapchat Dysmorphia’ A Real Issue?,” Cureus, March 2018, https://doi.org/10.7759/cureus.2263. 81 Maryam Sadat Sadati and Roya Radanfar, “‘Filter Dysmorphia’: An Emerging Phenomenon in Cosmetic Dermatology,” Journal of Cosmetic Dermatology, July 2022, https://doi.org/10.1111/jocd.15483. 82 Shauna M. Rice, Emmy Graber, and Arianne Shadi Kourosh, “A Pandemic of Dysmorphia: ‘Zooming’ into the Perception of Our Appearance,” Facial Plastic Surgery &Amp; Aesthetic Medicine 22, no. 6 (January 2020): pp. 401–402, https://doi.org/10.1089/fpsam.2020.0454. 83 Ashish Sarangi et al., “Video Conferencing Dysmorphia: Assessment of PandemicRelated Body Dysmorphia and Implications for the Post-Lockdown Era,” Cureus, August 2022, https://doi.org/10.7759/cureus.22965. 84 Ashish Sarangi et al., ibid. 85 Shauna M. Rice, Emmy Graber, and Arianne Shadi Kourosh, ibid. 86 René Riedl, “On the Stress Potential of Videoconferencing: Definition and Root Causes of Zoom Fatigue,” Electronic Markets 32, no. 1 (June 2021): pp. ­153–177, https://doi.org/10.1007/s12525-021-00501-3. 87 René Riedl, ibid. 88 René Riedl, ibid. 89 René Riedl, ibid. 90 Katrina Anderson and Jeffrey C.L. Looi, “Chronic Zoom Syndrome: ­Emergence of an Insidious and Debilitating Mental Health Disorder during COVID-19,” Australasian Psychiatry 28, no. 6 (May 2020): p. 669, https://doi.org/10.1177/ 1039856220960380.

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264  Cringuta Irina Pelea White, Ryen W., and Eric Horvitz. “Cyberchondria.” ACM Transactions on ­Information Systems 27, no. 4 (2009): 1–37. https://doi.org/10.1145/1629096.1629101. Yap, Pow Meng. “Words and Things in Comparative Psychiatry, with Special Reference to the Exotic Psychoses.” Acta Psychiatrica Scandinavica 38 (1962): 163–169. Yap, Pow Meng. “Classification of the Culture-Bound Reactive Syndromes.” Australian and New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry 1, no. 4 (1967): 172–179. https://doi. org/10.3109/00048676709159191. Yildirim, Caglar, and Ana-Paula Correia. “Exploring the Dimensions of Nomophobia: Development and Validation of a Self-Reported Questionnaire.” Computers in Human Behavior 49 (2015): 130–137. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.chb.2015.02.059. Ytre-Arne, Brita, and Hallvard Moe. “Doomscrolling, Monitoring and Avoiding: News Use in COVID-19 Pandemic Lockdown.” Journalism Studies 22, no. 13 (2021): 1739–1755. https://doi.org/10.1080/1461670x.2021.1952475.

Part IV

Africa and the Middle East

13 To Kill or to Resurrect Screening the Agency of Voodoo Priests, Sorcerers and Men of God in Cameroonian and Nigerian Films Floribert Patrick C. Endong Introduction Like other forms of West African popular culture, Nigerian and C ­ ameroonian films tap immensely into popular African myths, cosmologies and idiosyncrasies. One of the above sources of inspiration is the Cameroonian and Nigerian imaginary about death and the dead. In effect, Cameroonian and Nigerian movies have in most cases simultaneously mirrored and fueled the fetish mindset of Black African audiences about the causality of death. According to this fetish mindset, death is hardly, nay never a natural or biological situation. There must be some evil forces – notably sorcerers and evil spirits – and some supernatural circumstances surrounding the death of anyone. This is partly in line with African spiritualism, particularly the belief in spirits’ ability to affect the lives of the living in a way that no scientific approach may be relevant to comprehend or explain the workings of the spirits.1 As ­LeMarquard rightly observes, traditional African culture understands misfortune of all kinds to have social and spiritual causes.2 In the same line of argument, Mbunwe remarks that the tendency of associating everything not immediately understandable with witchcraft is not exclusively confined to communities of illiterate villagers in Cameroon.3 Even well-educated ­Cameroonians do revert to such traditional attitudes in stressful situations. Thus, many Black Africans (in traditional and urban spheres) do strongly believe in sorcerers and evil spirits’ ability to terminate the lives of welltargeted people, for mainly selfish motivations. The advent of an unusual and not immediately explainable death is likely interpreted as the evil design of a sorcerer or some malevolent spirit sent on a mission by a cultist or a similar entity. No doubt, in some Cameroonian and Nigerian tribes (notably, the Bamileke and the Makas), burial ceremonies most often include rites or esoteric rituals aimed to spiritually retaliate or punish entities suspected to be behind the demise of the deceased.4 Feeding on, and reproducing such a popular imaginary, Nigerian and Cameroonian (occult) filmmakers have been hinging on at least three tropes/scenarios to make their filmic productions authentic: the first revolves around sorcerers who kill their victims through unthinkable mystical means. The second has to do with native priests (voodoo DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-18

268  Floribert Patrick C. Endong oracles) who are agents of mystical murder. A native priest leverages black magic to neutralize and eliminate their victims. They may assist wicked entities or cultists to kill unfortified people in society. The last trope has to do with men of God who, by supernatural powers, block or undo the deadly charms of sorcerers and “satanic” deities. The men of God are connoisseurs of the spirit world and the politics of voodoo-assisted murder. Using secondary sources and a review of relevant ­Nollywood and Collywood films, this chapter seeks to show the symbiosis between ­African audiences’ fetish mindsets and the contents of occult ­ Cameroonian and ­Nigerian films. The chapter seeks answers to the three following research questions: what is the popular imaginary about (the causality of) death and the dead in Nigeria and Cameroon? How is this popular imaginary often represented in the two countries’ popular culture? How has such popular imaginary informed Cameroonian and Nigerian films’ contents? Voodoo Death as a Cultural Syndrome in Nigeria and Cameroon African spiritualism and fetish mindset spur many Black Africans into associating misfortune of all kinds with the spirit world or the invisible agency of some supernatural entities. In tandem with this African fetish mindset, many deaths (particularly those that occur in very unusual circumstances) are regarded or suspected as being the outcome of voodooist attacks. In other words, a very strange death is likely considered to be a voodoo death. For instance, a person who suddenly dies of a brief and inexplicable/unexplained sickness is likely to be viewed as the unfortunate victim of a voodooist ploy. By such fetish logic, malevolent entities – in the form of sorcerers, voodooists, cultists or spiritualists – leverage black magic and do perform satanic rituals to mystically neutralize or kill their victims. In Nigeria and Cameroon, the above-mentioned popular imaginary underpins many myths or concepts. In this chapter, four of such myths will be specifically discussed, namely: (i) the notion of secret societies/cults’ mystical killings, (ii) the belief in zombies/zombification, (iii) the child-witch phenomenon and (iv) the practice of retaliatory rituals. The Notion of Mystical Killings by Cults and Secret Societies

Cults and secret societies in Nigeria and Cameroun are underground circles popularly believed to engulf people who have a wide range of esoteric knowledge and mystical powers. These mystical powers include, among other things, the ability to harm or kill humans through satanic means. According to observers such as Amadi and Obini, members of these cults and secret societies are usually compelled to take oath before local deities or perceived powerful spirits.5 They attend nocturnal meetings or practice esoteric rituals in well-dedicated shrines. They are also obligated to adopt an unusual lifestyle that distinguishes them from the ordinary people in

To Kill or to Resurrect  269 society. According to the popular imaginary in Nigeria and Cameroon, a cultist or member of a secret society is one who most often has sold his soul to the devil. He is one who engages in Satanism or other forms of spiritual maneuvers (notably ritual killing, human sacrifice or sorcery), to acquire wealth, political power and/or intelligence among other gratifications, to succeed in life or in his career.6 Such spiritual maneuvers either lead to or involve voodoo deaths. A popular version of the above myth is that members of cults and secret societies are users of par excellence of black magic and voodoo for capitalistic purposes. Concretely, they constantly offer select relatives and/or family members in sacrifice to malevolent deities, for wealth, more esoteric powers and other flashy gratifications. Such sacrifices are usually performed in secret and involve the observance of satanic rituals in well-consecrated shrines. The results of such satanic rituals are the demise/elimination of the people offered in sacrifice. The people sacrificed usually die in very mysterious circumstances: a very strange and/or brief illness, a ghastly motor accident, an undiagnosed sickness, a sudden death and the like. In Cameroon more specifically, there is the popular belief that secret societies such as Nyongo, Famla’ah and Ekong are instruments through which very vicious individuals mystically offer human victims to satanic entities; and, in return, earn wealth and political power. The people who are sacrificed through the instrumentality of Nyongo, Famla’ah or Ekong (respectively situated among the Bakweris, the Bamileke and the Bakossi tribes of ­Cameroon) usually die in very mysterious conditions, while the people responsible for their death automatically witness spectacular upward financial – and even social – mobility. Thus, people suspected to be members of any of the three secret societies mentioned above are likely dreaded and avoided, particularly by spiritually unfortified people in society.7 It could therefore be observed that members of cults and secret societies are in the image of ordinary malevolent sorcerers; they are popularly viewed in Nigeria and Cameroon as the authors of voodoo-assisted murders.8 In his book titled Delivered from the Powers of Darkness, popular Nigerian evangelist Emmanuel Eni makes allusion to this cultist and sorcerers’ ability to orchestrate voodoo death. He attributes the death of his parents to some jealous entities that deployed voodoo to kill.9 The Popular Cameroonian-Nigerian Belief in Zombies and Zombification

The Nigerian-Cameroonian social discourse on voodoo death is also replete with legends or tales of people who purportedly died through mystical means, and were later resurrected by vicious sorcerers and made to serve as spiritual slaves in underground economies. Such people are called zombies.10 By the popular imaginary, these resurrected dead are the victims of sorcerers called bokors. These sorcerers deploy black magic to kill and zombify humans in view of feeding some underground economies with laborers of some sort.

270  Floribert Patrick C. Endong Hamilton makes reference to the above belief when he explains that for a zombie to be created in Black African communities, sorcerers will need to seize your spirit from your body, influence it by a charm, then when you are buried, they will come back reinstate the spirit into your body; you wake up, but you are influenced and directed only by the charm in you.11 The above-mentioned belief has, in West Africa, fueled the proliferation of tales of people who died and were buried in one African country, but these people later on mysteriously found themselves in far-away localities or in some other countries of the continent where they worked as slaves in mysterious plantations or some other underground industries. Melville J. ­Herskovitz makes allusion to these West African popular beliefs in his book titled Dahomey, an Ancient West African Kingdom.12 Thus, in many Cameroonian and Nigerian communities, zombification entails voodoo death. In Cameroon more particularly, it is widely believed that secret societies such as the Famla’ah, the Nyongo and the Ekong are responsible for the mystical death and subsequent zombification of many unfortified people in both urban and traditional spaces in the country.13 ­Similarly in Nigeria, there are tales of “passengers on motorcycle taxis, who, once helmets are placed on their heads, transform into zombies and begin to spew money from their mouths, as if they had become human ATMs.”14 There are also tales of people who suffered voodoo attacks, died and later on mysteriously came back (as avenging spirits) to hunt those responsible for their death. The “Child-Witches” Phenomenon

A number of Cameroonian and Nigerian beliefs around voodoo deaths inextricably tap into a phenomenon popularly called “child-witches.” This phenomenon is all about child witchcraft accusations made against children who are either extraordinarily gifted or suffer from anomalies such as autism, physical handicap, mental sicknesses and albinism, among others. According to some popular legends, child-witches are initiated into witchcraft through a variety of means: familial/generational curses, satanic covenants, membership into a coven and affinity with an adult witch, among others. However, the most widespread version of the legend stipulates that their initiation is realized through an esoteric ritual performed by one of their parents or a spell cast on them by another child-witch. In line with this, it is common to come across children believed to have inherited sorcery from their genital mothers or fathers, right from the womb or birth. It is also common to encounter children believed to have “contracted witchcraft” by eating a cursed food, which in reality was human flesh, human blood or a charm destined to give the eaters supernatural and satanic powers.15 Thus, child-witches are believed to

To Kill or to Resurrect  271 possess terrible mystical powers: they can kill and harm their human ­victims through mystical attacks carried out singly or with the collaboration of a coven. Deadly issues such as ghastly motor accidents, miscarriages, mortal and inexplicable ailments and voodoo deaths among others are in specific cases attributed to these children.16 Ellison reports various cases of presumed child-witches accused to be authors of voodoo deaths in Nigeria and some West African countries.17 In line with the above-mentioned popular imaginary, children suspected to be child-witches are problematically treated in the same way their adult counterparts are treated: they are disowned by families, thrown out of their homes, stigmatized, molested, burned or bury alive or deliver to Pentecostal and revivalist Christian movements for exorcism. In effect, one of the factors responsible for the popularization and proliferation of the “childwitch” phenomenon in Cameroon and Nigeria is Pentecostal and charismatic churches. So-called prophets belonging to these religious movements have entrenched the culture of child witchcraft accusations in the two countries. They constantly organize spiritual programs aimed at detecting and cleansing child-witches. In such programs, the men of God usually obtain confessions from the presumed child-witches under duress. By such spiritual programs, families also learn about the child-witch status of their children and receive “practical” recommendations on how to deal with their children. These recommendations are generally inhumane. They include harsh approaches such as disowning the child, throwing them out of the home or eliminating them physically.18 Many guardians or parents usually take harsh actions against their children suspected to be witches, for fear of being the next victims of the infant sorcerers. The biblical phrase stating that “thou shall not suffer a witch to live” (Exodus 22:18) is commonly used to justify such inhumane actions taken against presumed child-witches. The Culture of Retaliatory/Reprisal Spiritual Attacks

The popularity of the belief that some deaths are the outcome of voodoo attacks has fueled the culture of retaliatory spiritual attacks in some Nigerian and Cameroonian communities. These attacks are usually launched through rituals performed as part of funeral rites observed for the person suspected to be a victim of the voodoo death. Among the Bamileke and the Maka people (respectively of western and eastern Cameroon), funeral rites always include public autopsies aimed partly to detect the causes of the demise. When these causes happen to be witchcraft, additional rituals and charms are often leveraged to chastise the sorcerers behind the death of a deceased. C ­ hastisement often involves the death of the sorcerer responsible for the death of the deceased. Another common practice among Cameroonian tribes is the so-called culture of “spoiling the corpse.” By this culture, a family may burry their corpse with a charm believed to possess the power to block the sorcerers responsible

272  Floribert Patrick C. Endong for the death of the deceased. The blockage aims to hinder the sorcerer from coming after the burial to exhume the corpse of the deceased for zombification or for any other esoteric purpose. The culture of “spoiling the corpse” also aims to spiritually retaliate and inflict death upon any sorcerer responsible for the death. In some cases, the charm is aimed to re-activate and powered the spirit of the deceased so that the latter avenges their death. Similar to the practice of retaliatory rituals is the concept of fetishes and talismans deployed to prevent voodoo death. In both Cameroonian and Nigerian communities, people still uphold the idea that predatory sorcerers and evil spirits represent a ubiquitous social phenomenon. According to the popular fantasy, these predatory entities constantly roam and are ever ready to harm or kill unfortunate and unfortified “human preys,” for reasons that vary between the prospect of more spiritual, political and financial power to mere envy and wickedness.19 This fetish mindset – also known as the witchcraft mentality – pushes many in these Cameroonian and Nigerian communities to believe in using various sorts of spiritual fortifications aimed at protecting them against voodooists’ attacks and voodoo death.20 In tandem with this, the culture of visiting native priests (locally called ngangas, marabouts or babalaos) or traditional oracles to seek fortification against aggressive spirits and sorcerers is widespread in Nigeria and Cameroon, particularly in rural areas.21 Voodoo Death in the Nigerian and Cameroonian Popular Culture The voodoo-death myth permeates the Cameroonian and Nigerian popular culture, from music through comics and sit-com to popular cinema. ­Various versions of the myth actually fuel the lyrics of popular songs, the narratives of literary works and the scripts of popular films. A good illustration of this observation is seen in the marketing communications conceived by Pentecostal and charismatic churches in Nigeria and Cameroon to advertise their religious programs such as crusades, outdoor evangelical campaigns and musical concerts. In effect, most Nigerian Pentecostal movements tend, in their communications, to immensely tap into the myth of voodoo death.22 This is particularly evident when they seek to evangelize or propagate their salvific message. While deploying the fear appeal, they usually emphasize the ubiquity of voodoo and voodooists’ pernicious and fatal modus operandi. They also tend to brandish adherence to their movements/doctrines as the most efficacious solution to voodoo attacks and death. In line with this, Akinpelu observes that Pentecostalism and charismatic Christianity are often regarded in Nigeria as a means to reduce or neutralize the forces of witchcraft and voodoo.23 Thus, Christian movements tend to market their doctrines and programs as the only weapons that can shield and protect lives against the mortal consequences of black magic. These movements thus present God’s protection as a better or more superior alternative to the spiritual fortifications provided by local priests and

To Kill or to Resurrect  273 oracles. The idea these movements sell in their sermons, their l­iterature and their advertising communications is that God’s power is superior to that of sorcerers, voodooists and local priests. The superiority of God’s power implies that any voodoo-assisted attempt at killing the member of a ­Pentecostal church is destined to fail and/or rather backfire.24 By popularizing such an idea, Pentecostal and charismatic movements naturalize in some ways, the voodoo-deaths myth. Similar to Pentecostal movements’ advertising and evangelical communications is popular music in Cameroon and Nigeria. A number of popular artists in the two countries subtly relay the Cameroonian and Nigerian popular imaginary about voodoo death. Some provide a social criticism on the vice, thereby exhibiting their religious or fetish mindset. A case in point is Cameroonian popular artiste Longue Longue who, in his French song titled “Temoignez moi” (“Testify about me”), indirectly castigates false friends who pretend to wish us well but connive against us and consult wicked oracles and evil spirits to mystically eliminate us. There also exists a panoply of Cameroonian and Nigerian literary works (pamphlets, memoires and biographies among others), as well as audiovisual materials, produced by religious authors which provide kinds of eye-witness accounts of the underworld. Some of these literary works are authored by converted ecclesiastic figures who claim to have belonged to secret societies or cults and to have used black magic to kill or harm people. Two cases in point are Emmanuel Eni and Helen Ukpabio who respectively wrote Delivered from the Powers of Darkness and The Seat of Satan Exposed. The two literary sources remain somewhat popular in both Nigeria and Cameroon.25 They strike by their graphical and controversial representation of the spirit world. In these two books, Eni on the one hand and Ukpabio on the other hand explicitly describe how the spirit world functions and how specific satanic rituals are performed for the purpose of killing humans. The two authors highlight various versions of the voodoo death myth. Some of these versions include sorcerers’ ability to cause terrible motor accidents, crashes, incurable sicknesses or natural catastrophes only to eliminate specific human targets. Ukpabio and Eni’s book confirm and popularize the religious belief in spirits’ ability to affect the lives of the leaving and of causing their death. Voodoo Death in Nollywood and Collywood Films It will be expedient, from the outset, to briefly present the Nollywood and Collywood movements, highlighting the place voodoo occupies in their thematic focus. Nollywood and Collywood are respectively the brand names of the Nigerian and Cameroonian video film industries. The former sprang up in 1992 with the release of Chris Rapu’s straight-to-video film called “Living in Bondage,” while the latter film industry saw the light of day in 2008. Although it is common to come across literary sources

274  Floribert Patrick C. Endong which loosely present the two concepts as the nicknames of the Nigerian and the ­Cameroonian film industries in general, it must be emphasized that the two cinematic movements represent only the segment of Nigerian and ­Cameroonian cineastes who produce their films on video format. Many celluloid filmmakers (in Nigeria and Cameroon) have dissociated themselves from the video movement. Collywood in particular is mainly viewed as an Anglophone Cameroonian movement; similarly, Nollywood is popularly regarded as a movement dominated by the Hausa, Igbo and Yoruba tribes of Nigeria. Nollywood and Collywood are very prolific cinematic movements. The former produces an estimate of 150 to 200 films per month and has, in barely two decades, spectacularly morphed to a $590 to 600 million.26 The industry also employs over a million Nigerians, thereby representing the second employer in Nigeria after government and agriculture.27 ­ Meanwhile, the latter (Collywood) is less productive but releases an average of 50 films a month.28 Although Nollywood may be unknown to continental Europeans and ­Americans, the industry is described by many African and non-African observers as a global cinematic movement. The movement has actually spread its tentacles to almost all continents including African diasporas in Asia, Europe and America, in the Caribbean and other parts of Africa. It is even believed that Nollywood exerts cultural imperialism on the majority of African countries’ video-film industries, including Collywood. N ­ ollywood has been rated as the World’s second most prolific cinema (in terms of the number of films released per year) after Bollywood. It is also popularly believed to be a window into various aspects of life in Nigeria in particular and the African continent in general. A popular theme in Nollywood and Collywood movies is the occult. This has earned Nollywood in particular, a panoply of pejorative sobriquets, one of which is “the spectre of an occult economy.” As Vasagar puts it, for African audiences, Nollywood films have one unique selling point. If Hollywood’s forte is jaw-dropping spectacle and Bollywood’s is heartwarming musical slush, then Nollywood’s special draw is a genre that might be described as the voodoo horror flick: films that revolve around witchcraft and demonic possession.29 Thus, a good number of Nollywood and Collywood film productions develop themes such as sorcery, voodoo, ritual killing, cults and occultism, among others. In tandem with this, voodoo death has been the thematic focus of many Nollywood and Collywood films. The representation of this social phenomenon in Nollywood films has usually involved at least three tropes, namely, (i) sorcerers or voodooists who inflict death on their victims, (ii) the native priests or evil spirits who facilitate the fatal design of voodooists and (iii) the men of God who counter voodoo death.

To Kill or to Resurrect  275 The Sorcerers/Voodooists Who Inflict Death upon Unfortified Targets

This particular trope is present in many Nollywood and Collywood films. It likely features in movies that develop occult themes such as witchcraft, voodoo, blood money, ritual killings and cultism, as well as topics such as politics, ancestral worship and Christian evangelization efforts in rural areas among others. Films that hinge on the above trope are usually based on scripts in which a power-monger, a very materialistic character or an unscrupulously wicked entity seeks to attain their admeasured ambitions by deploying extreme means. These extreme means often include black magic or another form of esoteric approach. In cultism-based movies such as Blaise Ntedju’s Cauchemar Vivant (Nightmare in Lifetime, 2017), Chris Rapu’s Living in Bondage (1992) and Afam Okereke Billionaires Club (2003), the forces of evil generally rely on mystical human sacrifices to attain their goals. They deploy voodoo to kill for motivations that range between material possessions and the acquisition of additional esoteric powers. Ntedju’s Cauchemar Vivant, in particular, presents the life of a young man (Ngando) who brings disaster to his family through his adherence to a pernicious secret society. Ngando joins the secret society with the prospect of becoming rich and prosperous, as well as to ensure the future of his family. Little does he know that membership in such a secret society implies sacrificing a beloved member of his family. Under the influence of the pernicious society, Ngando finally offers his only daughter Orlane as sacrifice to the deity governing the pernicious society. The sacrificial act is performed during a plenary assembly of the secret society. This meeting takes place at night in the spirit world. Its outcome is the mysterious death of Orlane. In effect, Orlane is mysteriously killed by the secret society while she is in her sleep. Few days after the burial of the child, members of the secret society come to the deceased’s grave to perform an esoteric ritual. The ritual aims at summoning and capturing the spirit of the deceased. The ultimate goal of this satanic action is to send the spirit of the child to the underworld, where it will work in the zombie economy and generate money for the secret society. By mobilizing this trope, Ntedju taps into the Cameroonian popular imaginary about voodoo death. He particularly draws on legends about the Famla’ah, Nyongo and Ekong societies. As earlier mentioned, these three secret societies are believed to be the agents of voodoo death and zombification in ­Cameroon and Nigeria. Similar to Cauchemar Vivant (2017), Chris Rapu’s Living in Bondage is about voodoo death. The film recounts the story of a vicious and very ambitious businessman (called Andy) who, in his quest for financial success and social upward mobility, sacrifices his wife to a local deity. Upon the demise of his wife, Andy enjoys spectacular success, but soon after, troubles become his quotidian share as his wife’s phantom hunts him, seeking to avenge her death. A similar narrative is observed in Billionaires’ Club, a movie directed by Afam Okereke. This film recounts the tragic story of a petty pharmacist,

276  Floribert Patrick C. Endong Zedikai, whose admeasure ambition to become a billionaire motivates him to embrace Satanism. Actually, to reach his ambition, Zedikai joins a secret society called “The Billionaire Club.” This club influences him to sacrifice his wife and his only child to the paramount spirit governing the secret society. Upon the death of his wife and his child, Zedikai becomes a billionaire. ­However, his ascension to affluence is quickly followed by disaster and sorrow: the avenging ghost of his wife emerges from nowhere, only to hunt and make him pay dearly for his selfish and destructive act. The avenging spirit’s mission yields fruits as Zedikai dies in horrible circumstances: pieces of bodies fall off his rotting body. Convinced that the Billionaire Club is to blame for the disaster that befell his family, Zedikai comes back in the form of avenging spirit, to hunt and torment all the members of the secret society that influenced him to destroy his family. His mission is ultimately accomplished as he chastises all members of the club. The scenarios of Living in Bondage’ and Billionaire Club are in line with various aspects of the Nigerian and Cameroonian imaginary about voodoo death. One such aspects is the belief that victims of voodoo death may, thanks to the performance of relevant funeral rituals, come back in the form of avenging spirits to hunt the people responsible for their death. In C ­ ameroon, more particularly, some communities have the tendency of “spoiling the corpses” of their dead or of burying their dead with specific charms. These approaches are often adopted with the prospect that the ghosts of the dead will come and torment unto death the sorcerers responsible for the death of their beloved ones. The trope of the sorcerers who inflict unfortified people with voodoo death is also present in horror Nollywood or Collywood films that depict interactions or interfaces between the world of the living and that of the spirits. In Teco Benson’s End of the Wicked, for instance, the tele-viewer is treated to the story of a coven of witches and wizards who constantly astralproject themselves into a spirit world situated in the airs. There, the coven holds constant meetings with Beelzebub (Satan) and circumstantially orchestrates satanic and destructive oeuvres, which result in multiform human sufferings and deaths in the world of the living. The coven uses voodoo to cause ghastly motor accidents, inexplicably strange ailments and serious marital squabbles that ultimately lead to human deaths. They also cause bareness among women, incurable sicknesses, blindness and many other unpleasant situations. A particular feature of the coven in the film is that it has a children’s department, which is no less spiritually aggressive than its adult wing. This children’s department opportunistically recruits its infant members through a sophisticated model of initiation. The initiation model consists in giving out cursed food to ordinary children in the world of the living. Receivers of this cursed gift become initiates from the moment they eat the food. In so doing, the hitherto ordinary children are initiated into witchcraft and ultimately recruited into the coven. Specifically, the initiation follows the following

To Kill or to Resurrect  277 pattern: an infant member of the coven uses cursed or mystically poisoned food as bait to attract young food mongers; he uses this bait in the world of the living. When the young mongers eat the cursed food, they automatically become initiates, disposed to answer the call of Beelzebub anytime the latter needs them to accomplish a dark purpose. Thus, the young initiates (in the film) can mystically kill targeted victims in the world of the living. A common technique used by these children in the film is spiritual cannibalism, by which they spiritually turn their victim into food that they relish. This satanic modus operandi (spiritual cannibalism) depicted in End of the Wicked reflects the religious imaginary about voodoo deaths in Nigeria and Cameroon. According to some legends in the two countries, sorcerers have the power to kill their “preys” by treating them like food. They may transform them into various types of food, suck their blood or eat their flesh, in ­ ameroonian the same way a feline will devour its prey. No doubt in some C communities, witches are described as people who mystically eat others up. Horton confirms this observation, using ethnographical data collected in some North-west Cameroon communities. She notes that in these communities “witches are described as someone who ‘eats hearts’; either quickly or over a longer period of time.”30A part from the heart and/or the will, the witch can spiritually eat their victim’s liver.31 Thus, the representation of spiritual cannibalism in End of the Wicked (with the aid of degustation scenes) is far from being a mere metaphor or a farfetched cinematic language. Such a representation is fueled by Nigerian and Cameroonian popular imaginary about witchcraft and voodoo deaths. It should also be underlined that the choice of children as perpetrators of spiritual cannibalism in the film is not farfetched, but a reflection of the popularity of the “child-witches” myth in Cameroon and Nigeria. The Native Priest Who Facilitates the Fatal Designs of Evildoers

A number of occult Collywood and Nollywood movies tap into the myth of voodoo deaths by integrating the trope of the native priest (locally called ngangang, marabout or babalao) who facilitates the evil ambitions of vicious characters in the films. In such film, specific vicious characters rely on the assistance of witchdoctors or oracles to orchestrate the death of their enemies or rivals. In some cases, it is the witchdoctor who is the villain as they misuse the supernatural powers bestowed on them by deities for their personal/­ selfish interests. These interests often include murdering their enemies or rivals through mystical means. In Sangouna (2020), Simon Wikliam Kum recounts the story of three delinquent young men who step on the tiger’s tail by mercilessly raping the daughter of a female native priest. The three young men commit their crime not knowing the identity of their victims, as well as the spiritual weight of her mother. In view of avenging the rape of her daughter, the female native priest embarked on various voodooassisted attacks that are not only destructive but also fatal to the rapists.

278  Floribert Patrick C. Endong The film taps into the Cameroonian popular belief in the deadly nature of native priests locally called ngangas or babalawos. The popular belief in the two countries is that these entities are versed in esoteric practices and have the ability to deploy black magic to resolve or cause human death. A version of the legend stipulates that through the use of the appropriate charm and ritual, a nganga or babalawo can press, strike or fire a target from millions of kilometers. He does not need to be in the proximity or presence of their targets to inflict death. The trope of the murderous witchdoctors is also observable in Andy Chuckwu’s Two Rats (2003). The film recounts the story of two small boys (A-Boy and Bobo respectively played by Osita Iheme and Chinedu Ikedieze) who are prematurely rendered fatherless by the voodoo-assisted ploys of their vicious uncle Amaechi Muonagor. The latter had developed envy and jealousy toward the two boy’s father, a prosperous and very rich businessman. Muanagor’s sentiment motivates him to consult a local witch doctor in view of acquiring the spiritual weapon that will help him kill his bother. By the custom of the land, Muonagor is to inherit the material properties of his brother. In view of this customary provision, he conceives his ploy, hoping that the success of his action will enable him ascend to affluence. Muanago succeeds in his macabre plan: he acquires a charm from the local priest, kills his brother mystically, inherits his bother’ proprieties and turns his bother’ two sons into houseboys in their own father’s house. The Men of God Who Counter Voodoo Death

Reference to the voodoo-death myth in Collywood and Nollywood films is also made through the trope of the men of God who perform witch-hunting or witch-cleansing for salvific or evangelic purposes. By this trope, Church figures are represented as authoritative and spiritually equipped forces who masterly use a host of spiritual weapons to counter or prevent voodoo forces from killing specific Christians or protégés of God. This trope is, of course, fueled by the popular Cameroonian and Nigerian belief that the Christian God is superior to any local deity or to the spirit of witchcraft. An aspect of the belief is that consecrated and holy artifacts such as the Bible, holy water, holy oil, and some other holy fetishes and relics are relevant weapons that could be used by a practicing Christian or a man of God to block a sorcerer’s attack, neutralize voodoo maneuvers and prevent any spiritual murder. In Malachy Ugwoke’s The End Time Pastor (2019), various scenes attempt to represent the above-mentioned supernatural powers enjoyed by men of God and practicing Christians. The film is much about a pastor who becomes the number one target of incessant attacks from the spirit world because he makes numerous remarkable strides in his service to God. The pastor resorts to preaching the gospel and freeing masses from the bondage and powers of sin. His mission and handworks eventually test the nerves of the devil,

To Kill or to Resurrect  279 and the latter sends successive spirits on mission to mystically eliminate the ­pastor. These spirits fail in their mission as the pastor always detects and neutralizes the attacks of his aggressors, using divine weapons. Thus, the pastor escapes voodoo death on countless occasions. In Ifeanyi Azodo’s Other Side of the Bible (2015), another instance of the witch-hunting man of God is represented. Here, Azodo (the director) deploys an array of special effects in a scene where a Minister of God (Mike Ezuruonye) confronts a village totalitarian king (Obi Okoli) who, for a long, has used satanic powers to hypnotize and enslave his own subjects. This king has also been using voodoo to eliminate or neutralize his rival in the village. In various scenes in the film, the Minister of God uses a “firing Bible” first to block and neutralize the spiritual offensive of the wicked king and, second, to launch a counter-offensive with the same fetish-like Bible. The deployment of all the above-mentioned special effects is in line with two interrelated Christian myths that are popular in Cameroon and Nigeria. The first is that religious artifacts such as the Bible, holy water and the rosary among others are weapons one could use to neutralize voodoo mortal attacks. The second myth is that spiritfilled Christian are not only fortified to resist the mortal attacks of sorcerers but also spiritually empowered to fight such forces of evil. Conclusion The popularity of the voodoo-death myth in Cameroon and Nigeria is inextricably linked to the ubiquity of the witchcraft mentality in the two countries. By this mentality, most Cameroonians and Nigerians tend to associate any inexplicable death with voodoo or black magic. The witchcraft mentality is evident in the popular culture of retaliatory or reprisal spiritual attacks, as well as the performance of public autopsies to determine the causes of people’s demises. The witchcraft mentality is also reflected in the popular ­ hristian belief in the efficacy of Christian talismans and relics. By this belief, C fetishes such as the Bible, holy water and rosaries among others have the potency of neutralizing spiritual attacks by witchdoctors, evil spirits or cultists. This popular imaginary about voodoo death and the witchcraft mentality has fueled many filmic productions in Cameroon and Nigeria. In this chapter, three main tropes around this popular imaginary of voodoo death have been explored. It has actually been argued in this chapter that Nigerian and Cameroonian (occult) filmmakers have been hinging on at least three scenarios to make their filmic productions authentic: the first revolves around sorcerers who kill their victims through unthinkable mystical means. The second has to do with native priests (voodoo oracles) who are either agents or preventers of mystical murder. They assist or prevent wicked entities or cultists to kill unfortified people in society. The last trope has to do with men of God who, by supernatural powers, block or undo the deadly charms of sorcerers and “satanic” deities.

280  Floribert Patrick C. Endong Notes 1 Nguimfack, Leonard, “Psychothérapie des Familles Camerounaises Confrontées a la Sorcellerie,” Thérapie Familiale, 37, no. 3, (2016): 293–305. 2 LeMarquand, Grant, “The Bible as Specimen, Talisman, and Dragoman in Africa: A Look at some African Uses of the Psalms and 1 Corinthians, 12-14,” Bulletin for Biblical Research, 22, no. 2, (2012): 194–195. 3 Mbunwe, Samba Patrick, Accounts from the Wimbun Area of the Cameroon Grassfields, (Bamenda: Langaa, RPCIG, 2012). 4 Tcheuyap, Alexie, “Exclusion et Pouvoir: Formes et Forces Occulte dans les Cinémas d’Afrique,” Revue Canadienne des Etudes Africaines, 43, no. 2, (2011): 367–398. 5 Amadi, Elechi, Ethics of Nigerian Culture, (Ibadan: Heinemann Educational Books, 2005), 37; Obini, K., Goodbye Tomorrow. Secret Cult Activities on ­Campuses Exposed. A Warning Guide for Students of Secondary and Tertiary Institutions, (Calabar: Tony Peters Ventures, 2005). 6 Oviasuji, P.O., Ajagun, O. & Isiraojie, L., “Fetish Oath Taking in Nigerian ­Politics and Administration: Bane of Development,” Journal of Social Sciences, 27, no. 3, (2011): 193–200. 7 Amadi, Ethics of Nigerian Culture, 8. 8 Ardener, Edwin. Kingdom on Mount Cameroon: Studies in the History of the Cameroon Coast, 1500-1970, (Berghahn: Berghahn Books, 1996), 249–252. 9 Eni, Emmanuel, Delivered from the Powers of Darkness (Paris: Editions Parole de Vie, 1996), 7. 10 Christie, D. & Lauro, S.J. “Introduction,” in Better Off Dead: The Evolution of the Zombie as Post Human, eds. Christie D. & Lauro S., (London: Fordham, 2011), 1–4. 11 Hamilton, S.L., Zombies (The world of horror) (Edino, MN: ABDO Publishing Company, 2007), 6. 12 Herskovitz, M.J., Dahomey, an Ancient West African Kingdom, Volume 2. ­(Chicago, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1967), 243. 13 Bongmba, Elias Kifon. African Witchcraft and Otherness: A Philosophical and Theological Critique of IntersubjectiveRelations, (Bamenda: Suny Press, 2001), 104; Geschiere, Peter, The Modernity of Witchcraft Postcolonial Africa, (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 1997), 6, 7; Bassey, O.E. Secret societies in South Eastern State (Calabar: Heritage, 1974), 107. 14 McNally, D., Monsters of the Market: Zombies, Vampires and Global Capitalism, (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 232. 15 Ifeka Caroline, “How Boko Haram’s ‘Liminal’ Child Witches and Child Soldiers Challenge the Capitalist State. An Animist Critique of Neo-Liberalism’s ­Ideology of ‘Extremism’,” in Extremism, Society and State, ed. Giocomo Loperfido, ­(Bergen: University of Bergen), 53. 16 Hanson, Karl & Ruggiero, Roberta, Child Witchcraft Allegations and Human Rights (Brussels: Directorate-General for External Policies. Policy Department, 2013). 17 Ellison, Marc, Branded and Beaten: The Nigerian Children Accused of Witchcraft and Murder (London: Pulitzer Centre, 2019). 18 Agazue, Chima, “Children as Mischievous Spirits: Legalising Child Cruelty and Filicide in Contemporary Practices in Africa,” Dignity: A Journal of Analysis of Exploitation and Violence, 6, no. 3, (2021): 1–22. 19 Loe, Sammuel, Sorcellerie, l’Enfer d’une Croyance (Born: Susanne Ehlerding, 2012); Murray, Amber, “Invisible Power, Visible Dispossession: The Witchcraft of a Subterranean Pipeline,” Political Geography, 47, (2015): 64–76.

To Kill or to Resurrect  281 20 Okon, Etim, “World-View and the Challenge of Witchcraft,” Research on Humanities and SocialSciences 10, no. 2, (2012): 34–41. 21 Akinpelu, Babajide A, Trends and Patterns of Fatalities Resulting from Cult Societies and Belief in Witchcraft in Nigeria (2006-2014) (Lagos: IFRA-Nigeria Working Paper, Series No.4, 2015), 5; Beneduce, Roberto, “Fantasmagories de la cure. Routinisation de la Vision et “Textes Cachés” dans les thérapies rituelles (Cameroun),” Cahiers des Etudes Africaines, LIII, no. 4, (2013): 895–933. 22 Obadare, Ebenezer, “On the Theologico-Theatrical: Popular Culture and the ­Economic Imperative in Nigerian Pentecostalism,” Africa, 92, (2022): 93–111. 23 Akinpelu, “Trends and Patterns of Fatalities,” 895. 24 Anderson, Allan, An Introduction to Pentecostalism: Global Charismatic ­Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013). 25 Ukpabio Helen, The Seat of Satan Exposed (Calabar: Liberty Foundation Gospel Ministries, 1999); Eni, Emmanuel. A., Delivered from the Powers of Darkness (Paris: Editions Parole de Vie, 1996), 7. 26 Oh, E. “Nigeria’s Film Industry: Nollywood Looks to Expand Globally,” ­Executive Briefings on Trade, (New York: United States International Trade ­Commission (USITC), 2014), 3. 27 New Africa Magazine, “The Rise of Nollywood,” New Africa Magazine, (July 2013): 23. 28 Endong, Floribert Patrick, Deconstructing Collywood: A Conceptual Discourse on the Anglophonisation and Nigerianisation of Cameroon’s Video Film Industry, International Journal of Media and Communication Research, 3, no. 2, (2022), 1–16. 29 Vasagar, Jeevan, “Welcome to Nollywood,” The Guardian, (March 23, 2006): 104. 30 Horton, Leslie Ann, “Eating hearts”: Witchcraft as soul murder; an analysis of an anti-witchcraft youth rebellion in Cameroon. A PhD thesis submitted to the University of California, 1996. 31 Cimpric, Aleksandra, Children Accused of Witchcraft: An Anthropological Study of Contemporary Practice in Africa, (New York: UNICEF, 2010), 12.

References Akinpelu, Babajide A. Trends and patterns of patalities resulting from cult societies and belief in witchcraft in Nigeria (2006-2014). Lagos: IFRA-Nigeria Working Paper, 2015. Amadi, Elechi. Ethics of Nigerian culture. Ibadan: Heinemann Educational Books, 2005. Anderson, Allan. An introduction to Pentecostalism: Global charismatic Christianity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013. Ardener, Edwin. Kingdom on mount Cameroon: Studies in the history of the ­Cameroon coast, 1500-1970. London: Berghahn Series, 1996. Arrey-Mbi, Sammy Besong. “The place of ‘black magic’ and ‘juju’ in the Cameroon Anglophone crisis: A truncated narrative 2017-2020.” EAS Journal of Humanities and Cultural Studies, 2.5: 282–292, 2020. Bassey, O. Emmanuel. “Secret societies in south eastern State.” Heritage, 1: 63–77, 1974. Beneduce, Roberto. Fantasmagories de la cure. Routinisation de la vision et “textes cachés” dans les thérapies rituelles (Cameroun). Cahiers des Etudes Africaines, LIII. 4: 895–933, 2013. Bongmba, Elias Kifon. African witchcraft and otherness: A philosophical and ­theological critique of intersubjective relations. London: Suny Press, 2001.

282  Floribert Patrick C. Endong Christie, D. and Lauro, S.J. “Introduction.” In Better off dead: The evolution of the zombie as post human, edited by Christie D. and Lauro S.,1–4. London: Fordham, 2011. Eni, Emmanuel. A. Delivered from the powers of darkness. Paris: Editions Parole de Vie, 1996. Geschiere, Peter. The modernity of witchcraft: Politics and the occult in postcolonial Africa. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 1997. Geschiere, Peter. “Witchcraft as an issue in the ‘politics of belonging’: Democratization and urban migrants’ involvement with the home village.” African Studies Review. African Studies Association, 41.3: 61–91, 1998. Hamilton, P. “Do ghosts and zombies exist, and was Jesus one?” Accessed March 19, 2018. http://princehamilton.blogspot.com.ng/2007/09/what-are-ghosts-andzombies.html. Hamilton, S.L. Zombies (the world of horror). Edino, MN: ABDO Publishing ­Company, 2007. Herskovitz, M. J. Dahomey, an ancient West African kingdom. vol.2. Chicago, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1967. Horton, Leslie Ann. “‘Eating hearts’: Witchcraft as soul murder; an analysis of an anti-witchcraft youth rebellion in Cameroon.” A PhD thesis submitted to the ­University of California, 1996. Khan, K. “Ghosts, witches and the magical world in the Nigerian film Billionaires’ Club.” Phantasma, 21: 284–291, 2017. Kugara, S. L. “Witchcraft belief and criminal responsibility: A case study of selected areas in South Africa and Zimbabwe.” A PhD thesis submitted to the University of Venda, 2017. LeMarquand, Grant. “The Bible as specimen, talisman, and dragoman in Africa: A look at some African uses of the Psalms and 1 Corinthians, 12-14.” Bulletin for Biblical Research, 22.2: 189–199, 2012. Loe, Sammuel. Sorcellerie, l’enfer d’une croyance. Born: Susanne Ehlerding, 2012. Mbunwe, Samba Patrick Accounts from the Wimbun area of the Cameroon grassfields. Bamenda: Langaa, RPCIG, 2012. McNally, D. Monsters of the market: Zombies, vampires and global capitalism. ­Leiden: Brill, 2011. Murray, Amber. “Invisible power, visible dispossession: The witchcraft of a subterranean pipeline.” Political Geography, 47: 64–76, 2015. Murray, Amber. “Decolonising the imagined geographies of witchcraft.” Third World Thematics: A Two Journal, 36.2: 1–21, 2017. Nguimfack, Leonard. “Psychothérapie des familles camerounaises confrontées a la sorcellerie.” Thérapie Familiale, 37.3: 293–305, 2016. Obadare, Ebenezer. “On the theologico-theatrical: Popular culture and the economic imperative in Nigerian Pentecostalism.” Africa, 92: 93–111, 2022. Obini, K. Goddbye tomorrow: Secret cult activities on campuses exposed. A warning guide for students of secondary and tertiary institutions. Calabar: Tony Peters Ventures, 2005. Offiong, Ani E. “Video-films as mediators of Pentecostal Christianity in Nigeria: A case study of Liberty Video-Films.” West Africa Association for Commonwealth Literature and language Studies, 2.1: 106–109, 2008. Okene, J. “Breaking power of the grave.” The Guardian, 28: 36–37, 2020.

To Kill or to Resurrect  283 Okon, Etim. “World-view and the challenge of witchcraft.” Research on Humanities and Social Sciences, 10.2: 34–41, 2012. Oviasuji, P.O., Ajagun, O. and Isiraojie, L. “Fetish oath taking in Nigerian politics and administration: Bane of development.” Journal of Social Sciences, 27.3: ­193–200, 2011. Seabrook, W. The magic island. London: Dever Publication Inc., 1929. Tcheuyap, Alexie. “Exclusion et pouvoir: Formes et forces occulte dans les cinémas d’Afrique.” Revue Canadienne des Etudes Africaines, 43.2: 367–398, 2011. Toukea, Nestor. L’église pentecôtiste et les sectes pentecôtistes. Yaoundé: La Foi en Marche, 2005. Ukpabio Helen. The seat of Satan exposed. Calabar: Liberty Foundation Gospel ­Ministries, 1999. Vasagar, Jeevan. “Welcome to Nollywood.” The Guardian, March 23, edition: 104, 2006.

14 Belief in the Existence of the Jinn as a Cultural Syndrome The Case of Sadeq Hedayat’s Fiction Masoud Farahmandfar and Saman Taheri Introduction As rich as classical Persian poetry and equally important, Persian popular ­literature has united Iranians through the centuries. The role of Persian popular literature in creating and fortifying a sense of cultural identity and belonging becomes even more pronounced considering Iran’s diverse ethnicities, customs, and languages. Trying to represent such variegated beliefs, popular fiction writers such as Sadeq Hedayat (1903–1951) boldly delve into the heart of society and relentlessly criticize unfounded beliefs and superstitions in popular culture. Moreover, as a modern-minded intellectual, Hedayat attacks cultural syndromes, the belief in the existence of the “jinn” (‫جن‬, in Persian) being one of them, in his fictional oeuvre. This essay analyzes the belief in the existence of jinn as a cultural syndrome in Hedayat’s works and how he tackles it. There are various accounts of the jinn in Iranian popular culture, yet according to the Encyclopedia of Iranian Popular Culture, “jinn are those invisible creatures who have sense and understanding,”1 and they can appear as “beautiful or ugly, black or white and big or small.”2 Despite various accounts, it is widely accepted in Iranian popular culture that a jinni is a creature who benefits from understanding as a human being does.3 In his book Legends of the Fire Spirits: Jinn and Genies from Arabia to Zanzibar (2010), Robert Lebling asserts that “Iran, as a non-Arab but Muslim country, has a rich jinn tradition. Some aspects of Iranian jinn lore derive from Islam, but other elements are older and originate in early Persian belief.”4 It is also a common popular belief that the jinn belong to the race of pre-Adamite creatures. The meaning of jinn becomes all the more complicated when considering its roots, definitions, and manifestations in relation to Arabic and Islamic associations. The word jinn is derived from the “linguistic root j-n-n,”5 which means invisible, and refers “to all beings invisible to man.”6 Accordingly, it is claimed that even words like majnun (meaning insane in Arabic) are taken from this root and that insanity is equal to being possessed by jinn.7 Taking the Quranic context into consideration, it is claimed that “all beings invisible DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-19

Belief in the Existence of the Jinn as a Cultural Syndrome  285 to man” contain both angels and satans, and thus, the term jinn refers to both.8 Despite such subtleties in the genealogy of the jinn, finally, in Iranian popular culture, the jinn can be categorized either as beautiful/good or ugly/ evil. The former is, needless to say, Muslim, because Muslim jinn are good and beautiful, and the latter are nonbelievers, in Islamic terminology kāfir, and as a result, evil and ugly.9 The existence of jinn, “who are believed in Islam to be part of the ­Creation, and dwellers of the imaginal,”10 has also been verified in the 72nd sūrah (“chapter”) of the Holy Quran, “Al-Jinn.”11 It is believed by the Quran commentators, both Shias and Sunnis, that jinn exist and even reigned the world before the rise of Adam. With the passage of time, the true beliefs of the common people gave way to superstitions that gradually spread. For example, people are afraid to address them by the name jinn: calling jinns by such names is a means to invoke them. They attempt to avoid using proper names, especially after al-’aser [evening] prayer when these are thought to leave their subterranean abodes. They think that they may retaliate with brutal revenge.12 Also, it is mentioned that the jinn have a “special fondness for women”: If a mortal woman appeals to them, they may marry her and charm her to the extent that she can no longer consort with a man or (vice-versa). If she is married, she may divorce her husband. If newly married, she may become sterile. If virgin, she may lose her virginity. Some girls believe that they are raped by “jinns” in disguise.13 As a common belief in popular culture, a sexual relationship between the jinn and mankind would result in an epileptic seizure, and as a treatment, the person has to be beaten very hard so that the jinn would go away.14 Such views on jinn were believed and lived by many common people, mainly the less literate until the concept of modernity came around in the cultural scene of Iran. Facing the European zeitgeist, the Iranian intelligentsia questioned fundamental thoughts and beliefs in popular culture. This suspicion was accompanied by an urgent need for change in society since they no longer could see their traditionally based identity related to the present time. Having lived and studied abroad, most of the intellectuals of the time attempted “to introduce change and to modernize their homeland.”15 Modernization took place in Iran for roughly a 150-year duration, starting from the Qajar era in the nineteenth century up to the Pahlavi era (1925– 1979). The zenith of modernity is believed to be the Persian Constitutional Revolution (1906), in which the zest for imitating the west was put into practice by establishing a parliament.16 Modernity in Iran, following its western paragon, affirmed individuality, scientific reasoning, urbanization, industrialization, capitalism, and the reduction of religion to spirituality.17 Such

286  Masoud Farahmandfar and Saman Taheri a worldview encouraged skepticism, which, in turn, weakened traditional superstitions and beliefs. The Iranian intelligentsia attempted to propel Iranian society into a new era by introducing modern notions to a broad audience in society. Such an endeavor required simplification of the prose. It was in such a simplified, everyday language that Hedayat and other modern Persian writers – Bozorg Alavi (1904–1997), Sadeq Chubak (1916–1998), and Mohammad-Ali Jamālzādeh (1892–1997), to just name a few – developed their literary modernization.18 These writers felt a burden on their shoulders to substitute a traditional mindset with a modern one and to fight superstitious beliefs in popular culture. Among others, the belief in the existence of the jinn was a goal they all aimed at to rid people of this ignorance. Marta Simidchieva, for example, takes Hedayat’s The Blind Owl as an “artistic manifesto on cultural reform.”19 Sadeq Hedayat: Vanguard of Literary Modernism and Social Transformation Hedayat is a figure whose literary efforts assisted the rise of modernity in Iran by stimulating modern attitudes toward both life and literature. Born on 17 February 1903 and died on 9 April 1951, Hedayat was raised in a sophisticated family of “important state officials, political leaders, and army generals, both in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.”20 In life, he found it difficult to settle in one place for work or living, and his artistic burst could never limit him to clerical jobs.21 “The chief pioneer of the study of folklore and anthropology in Iran,”22 Hedayat revitalized the study of pre-Islamic mythology of Iran together with its popular culture to “emphasize the indigeneity of modern Persian prose.”23 He has a significant place in contemporary Persian literature because of his direct treatment of subjects, sarcastic language, and surrealist devices. The peak of the “cultural Europeanism of his time,” Hedayat, together with Bozorg Alavi (1904–1997), Mojtaba Minovi (1903–1977), and Mas’ud Farzad (1906–1981), founded a literary circle, Rab’eh (Group of Four), whose prime focus was wrestling with traditional literary techniques.24 Hedayat, among others, is considered a significant figure because his work, The Blind Owl, has shaped modernism in Persian literature to a great extent; he also was a prolific writer and an outspoken critic of tradition, religion, and politics in his major works such as Tūp-e Morvārī (The Pearl Cannon, 1947), Hājī Āqā (Haji Agha, 1945), Būf-e Kūr (The Blind Owl, 1937), and Neyrangestān: Persian Folklore (1933). The first two are satirical works of Hedayat, which are less famous than his worldwide masterpiece, The Blind Owl. In Tūp-e Morvārī, Hedayat constantly, bitterly, and openly criticizes the superstitious and irrational view of life. In Hājī Āqā, Hedayat keeps his sharp criticism of politics and attacks the faulty system of governance in his time,

Belief in the Existence of the Jinn as a Cultural Syndrome  287

Figure 14.1 A photograph of Sadeq Hedayat: The last one he posted from Paris to his family in Tehran (1951)25

arguing that “no one is absolved of participation in the carnival of corruption, decay, and banality.”26 This political satire functions in the duel of tradition and modernism, and “Hedayat expresses his critical views of the worst of traditional culture as symbolized by the character of a traditionalist conservative politician,”27 that is, Hajji Aqa. And Neyrangestān is Hedayat’s

288  Masoud Farahmandfar and Saman Taheri attempt at collecting a thematic folklore dictionary of Iranian beliefs and customs. Attending to the Iranian popular culture, Hedayat refines, shapes, and more precisely defines the meaning of jinn. This becomes all the more important when he compares the jinn with vampires in western culture. In Neyrangestān, Hedayat defines the jinn by association with another word Hamzād: “it is said when a child is born, with him/her comes to existence a jinni called Hamzād who accompanies that person in their lifetime.”28 In other words, according to an existing belief in popular culture, a separate entity whose name is Hamzād is born into this material world, with all the attributions of a human being. According to Robert Lebling: Since Iran is largely Shi’ite, the Shi’ite jinn are called the ‘holy jinn’. Every human being is believed to have a twin among the jinn, a hamzad, born at the same time. […] The hamzad may be either a Muslim or an unbeliever. If it is a Muslim, the individual will be fortunate in life, but if it is an infidel he will almost certainly suffer illness or some other misfortune brought about by this inseparable companion. Any person with a frail physique or feeble constitution is believed to have an infidel hamzad. There is no way to escape from this unhappy situation. The only hope for relief is to try to bring about a harmonious ‘working relationship’. The usual procedure for dealing with an infidel hamzad is to consult a prayer writer, who will listen to the patient’s concerns and prescribe a treatment.29 In addition to Hamzād, a jinni can be called Sāyeh (“Shadow”) in Iranian popular culture. Hedayat writes that “shadow is the name of a monster, and also a jinni is called a shadow. The reason for this name is that it was believed that a shadow would be cast upon whoever went crazy or possessed.”30 In simple terms, in popular culture, a shadow is a jinni, and a shadow-cast is a person possessed by a jinni. The image of the jinn, so far, according to Hedayat, is a ‘being’ who comes into existence as a normal person does, though with a separate entity of its own. The said entity also has the ability to possess a person and, as a result, drive them crazy. The jinn have the ability to possess not only the alive but also the dead: It is well-known that, in Nāyeb al-Saltanah Mosque, a dead person is put, and the limp janitor of the mosque recites the Quran upon their coffin. In the meantime, the dead person starts to shake in the coffin. The limp janitor opens the coffin and runs out of the room. The dead rises and starts to follow him, and the janitor hits the nearby Quran on the person’s chest, says bismillah, and instantly the person dies again. Such dead people, in whom a jinni has entered, cannot talk but are able to do whatsoever, and as soon as the dawn breaks, they die again.

Belief in the Existence of the Jinn as a Cultural Syndrome  289 The latter description is in line with Europeans’ belief in vampires in the Middle Ages.31 The jinn are thus defined as powerful entities which can literally affect people whether alive or dead. When possessing the dead, the jinn are even more powerful, though for a limited time, during the darkness of the night. The jinn find their actual shapes in the everyday life of people, from the beginning of their existence until the end, and even further than the end, exercising power over the dead. Genealogy of the Jinn in Sadeq Hedayat’s Account Examining the roots of the jinn, Hedayat considers different contexts, similar to theories of cross-cultural discourse, to reach a relativistic and more comprehensive understanding of the existence of jinn in popular culture. ­According to cross-cultural psychology, the “absolutist” view of the human psyche should be abandoned in favor of a “relativistic” one so that a true understanding of the psyche manifests itself. Such a relativistic perspective requires openness and flexibility in different disciplines such as biology, psychology, and social sciences. This “inter-discipline,” in theory, formulates two criteria. The first is “to take cultural context seriously in understanding human psychological phenomena, and we need to do this work comparatively across cultures,” which underlines the importance of each context from which culture-bound syndromes appear. The second criterion in this theory is that “culture–behavior relationships are reciprocal: individual human beings produce culture, and individual behavior is influenced by culture.”32 This observation paves the path to understanding culture-bound syndromes more in line with their origin and context and thus renders a better outlook. By exploring the root of jinn in popular culture, Hedayat steps into the realms of cross-cultural psychology in Iranian folklore. As for the roots of this culture-bound syndrome in popular culture, Hedayat names three main categories: religious, exploitative, and political. What he means by religion is the ideological blindness it could bring with itself and thus blurs people’s views in society. In other words, in Hedayat’s account, the ignorance of true religious beliefs is the main source of support for the existence of the jinn and other superstitions. Exploitation, next, is the reason why some people abuse others by the notion of jinn, for their benefit. Politics, finally, is the reason why the jinn’s existence is supported in popular culture. Hedayat believes that fanatic religiosity is a foundation to provoke ignorance in society as if the superstitions were the truth of life: The conditions of living and thinking, in general, and the condition of women, in particular, have changed after Islam because women

290  Masoud Farahmandfar and Saman Taheri became slaves to men and were confined to the home. Polygamy for men, ­fatalism, and grief, and directing people’s attention to sorcery, talisman, prayer, and jinn decreased their seriousness and activity. A new thread of superstitions was produced this way.33 There are orders in the superstitious lifestyle, Hedayat believes, that lessen the quality of life and thought. The existence of jinn is one of those ideas that, according to Hedayat, religion has brought into the lives of people. Put differently, the very entity of jinn was given birth to with the help of religion.34 Furthermore, Hedayat mentions how and why politicians tried to use the fertile ground of religion to reach their own goals and stay in power. ­Politicians were well-aware of the fact that progress and thinking could hand-in-hand shift the story of their governance. Thus, to be able to maintain their reign, politicians of Hedayat’s time encouraged the spread of superstitions such as the belief in the existence of the jinn, the separate beings with extraordinary power: If need be, we must unite with the devils and jinn so as not to let the situation change. Change in society means death for us and those like us. Thus, it is our duty to promulgate grief, addiction, and exorcism. We must regress this nation by directing their attention to the habits and customs of thousands of years ago. This is what politics necessitates.35 The last root from which the jinn come into existence and grow is exploitation. After all, in Hedayat’s view, some people exploit others for their benefits, and in order to achieve those purposes, no culture-bound syndrome can work as adroitly as the belief in the existence of the jinn. Hedayat writes, “in a nutshell, the market was fertile for prayer writers and exorcists of jinn. They forced people to fast and cry while earning a great deal of money out of it.”36 Through a closer analysis, it can be understood how some people saw their profit in the existence of jinn and alike superstitions. Manifestations of the Jinn in Popular Culture To understand the existence of the jinn as a culture-bound syndrome, it is best to see how such a belief is manifested in the real world. In Iranian popular culture, jinn have explicit causes and symptoms with which they can be identified. In other words, the jinn as a mental concept risen from the culture finally finds its expression in the objective world, much like a disease. “Black cats are jinn”; Hedayat writes, “whoever hurts black cats experiences an epileptic seizure.”37 Apart from hurting black cats, there are various causes so that jinn could play a role in life. For example, by mentioning “whoever sleeps under walnut trees becomes possessed of the jinn,”38 Hedayat indicates how the location can become significant in popular culture. Popular culture covers a wide array of life situations in which one can become possessed of

Belief in the Existence of the Jinn as a Cultural Syndrome  291 the jinn; not even pregnant women are exempted here, “from the time of labor and ten days afterward, if a pregnant woman is alone, she becomes possessed of the jinn.”39 Although such a cultural syndrome has multiple causes, possible treatments do exist to recover the person from it, “one must say bismillah (in the name of Allah) at night in a dark basement or corridor; otherwise, they become possessed by the jinn.”40 It is interesting to note that, as well as the causes, these treatments are drawn from religion in the eye of the mass public. Such treatments can become more general or more specific in a religious context. As for the general case, Hedayat mentions, “In general, jinn are afraid of iron and bismillah, and thus sharp, and made-of-iron tools are effective for expelling the jinn.”41 Also, for a pure religious form of treatment, popular culture can direct us towards a formula that has something to do with the holy book: “If one is alone and afraid, they should recite verse 64 of sūrah 12 seven times, and blow it around themselves; all the blight and jinn would go away.”42 As noted above, the jinn are treated as though they were real entities whose extraordinary power could harm or change one’s destiny. The jinn are sometimes depicted so realistically in popular culture that makes people enthusiastic about communicating with them. Therefore, various techniques are suggested so that other people could experience the same communication: Forty-day Reclusion – in old mosques, a place called Chelle Khāneh (a house for forty nights of worship) with elaborate small rooms in darkness. One who wants to undergo this reclusion to communicate with the jinn and fairies has to practice austerity. The person goes to Chelle Khāneh and draws a circle around themselves, thus staying in the circle while gradually decreasing their food to only almonds. On the last day, their food becomes limited to just one almond, and finally, they get to see ghosts and devils.43 There is another technique for communicating with the jinn, which underlines a specific verse of the holy book: “In order to possess and communicate with the jinn and fairies, one has to recite the first verse of the sūrah 72 of the holy Quran from the night to the morning.”44 Ignorance can easily cause doubts in people’s religious beliefs. Ethereal Woman as a Jinni The Blind Owl, Hedayat’s most praised work, has been the subject of attention by eminent scholars, various writers, and prominent critics. This book has almost single-handedly been the forerunner of modernism in Persian literature. The Blind Owl is written in two main parts, each of which has a separate story of its own, and this has led some scholars to believe they are two different stories unrelated to each other. Some scholars maintain that the

292  Masoud Farahmandfar and Saman Taheri parts are connected, and one must delve into each in order to understand the relation. For the purpose of this paper, the first part of The Blind Owl is used and referred to. In The Blind Owl, Hedayat has no explicit reference to jinn, not even naming them once. Yet, one of the characters in his book, an ethereal woman, holds many of the aforementioned qualities of a jinni. Although there is no naming of her as a jinni, we can infer that she is a portrayal of one: No, I shall never utter her name. For now, with her slender, ethereal, misty form, her great, shining, wondering eyes, in the depths of which my life has slowly and painfully burned and melted away, she no longer belongs to this mean, cruel world. No, I must not defile her name by contact with earthly things.45 The narrator tries to describe her physical characteristics of the ethereal woman; however, he finds that it is all in vain because no earthly qualities would best fit her. This creature of which the narrator talks exists in the real world yet reminds him “of a vision seen in an opium sleep”; thus, no earthly appearance can do justice to her description: The fineness of her limbs and the ethereal unconstraint of her movements marked her as one who was not fated to live long in this world. No one but a Hindu temple dancer could have possessed her harmonious grace of movement.46 Again, the narrator emphasizes the fact that although existing in this world, this creature is different in nature. The narrator ultimately accepts her existence with an awareness of her uniqueness. Here is the place where the narrator dismisses her as an illusion and tries to understand her being: In the end, I understood that all my efforts were useless because it was not possible that she should be connected in any way with the things of this world: the water with which she washed her hair came from some unique, unknown spring; her dress was not woven of ordinary stuff and had not been fashioned by material, human hands. She was a creature apart.47 She is not a human, yet she exists, and her existence is beyond doubt, but this being is not a human one. This creature also has the ability to possess human beings, not in the light of day but in the dark of night. This brings to mind the idea of the existence of the jinn. As believed in mass culture, the jinn are more powerful when the darkness is dominant: It was growing dark. The lamp was burning smokily. I could still feel the aftermath of the delicious, horrible fit of trembling that I had experienced. From that moment the course of my life changed. With one glance

Belief in the Existence of the Jinn as a Cultural Syndrome  293 that angel of heaven, that ethereal girl, had left on me the imprint of her being, more deeply marked than the mind of man can conceive.48 When possessed by the ethereal woman, the narrator remembers how familiar this feeling is. This displays the idea that whenever a person is born, a jinni is also born with him or her. Thus, though different in material form, the souls and the roots are the same: My soul had lived side by side with hers, had sprung from the same root and the same stock and it was inevitable that we should be brought together again. It was inevitable that I should be close to her in this life.49 This part reminds us of the definition of a jinni as hamzād. Then, the narrator depicts how he wishes to see her once more; however, the power is not on his side to choose. Instead, the extraordinary power goes to the ethereal woman: Could I abandon the hope of ever seeing her again? It was not within my power to do so. Henceforth I lived like a soul in torment. All my waiting, watching, and seeking were in vain. I trod every hand’s-breadth of ground in the neighbourhood of my house. I was like the murderer who returns to the scene of his crime. Not one day, not two days, but every day for two months and four days I circled our house in the late afternoon like a decapitated fowl.50 Finally, at night, the narrator returns home only to see the phantom of a lady in front of his house. When returning, “the great part of the night was spent,” and it was so dark that the narrator “could not see the ground immediately” in front of his foot, a time most suitable for the jinn to appear: I struck a match to find the keyhole and for some reason glanced involuntarily at the figure in black. I recognized two slanting eyes, two great black eyes set in a thin face of moonlight paleness, two eyes which gazed unseeing at my face. If I had never seen her before I should still have known her. No, it was not an illusion. This black-robed form was she. I stood bemused, like a man dreaming, who knows that he is dreaming and wishes to awake but cannot. I was unable to move. The match burned down and scorched my fingers. I abruptly came to myself and turned the key in the lock. The door opened and I stood aside. She rose from the bench and passed along the dark corridor like one who knew the way. She opened my door and I followed her into the room.51 At this critical time, the narrator, very much astonished and shocked, cannot describe the lady clearly. The narrator neither can accept the humanity of the lady nor her divinity; thus, he says: “To me, she was a woman and at the same time had within her something that transcended humanity.”52

294  Masoud Farahmandfar and Saman Taheri The narrator at this point confesses his puzzlement, and we are getting closer and closer to her picture as a jinni: Was it possible that this woman, this girl, or this angel of hell (for I did not know by what name to call her), was it possible that she should possess this double nature? She was so peaceful, so unconstrained.53 Based on Hedayat’s comments mentioned above, in Iranian popular culture, a jinni can be called shadow alternatively. In the same way, the possessed person is labeled as a “shadow-cast”: Her fragile, short-lived spirit, which had no affinity with the world of earthly creatures, had silently departed from under the black, pleated dress, from the body which had tormented it, and had gone wandering in the world of shadows, and I felt as though it had taken my spirit with it.54 The ethereal woman is a portrayal of a jinni because she has wondered “in the world of shadows,” and the narrator feels that he is possessed. When in possession, the narrator feels different from the normal state; he feels his being is “somehow connected with that of all the creatures that existed about me, with all the shadows that quivered around me.”55 After this turning point in the story, seeing the ethereal woman in front of his door and then going inside, the narrator feels like living in another time. His dreams are coming true, and he is extremely happy to have her on his bed. In the meantime, he goes to fetch some drink, and when returning, he realizes that, all at once, she is really dead. The ethereal woman is now transformed into a corpse on his bed, and he has no other way to freeze this time but to use his art – drawing the dead woman on paper. The narrator does so delicately and carefully so as not to miss even an atom of her facial expression, which he thinks is a masterpiece. He, however, regrets the fact that she is dead and her eyes are closed since he thinks the masterpiece would be incomplete without the eyes. Therefore, unexpectedly, the ethereal woman comes back to life: All at once as I looked at her a flush began to appear upon her cheeks. They gradually were suffused with a crimson colour like that of the meat that hangs in front of butchers’ shops. She returned to life. Her feverish, reproachful eyes, shining with a hectic brilliance, slowly opened and gazed fixedly at my face. It was the first time she had been conscious of my presence, the first time she had looked at me. Then the eyes closed again.56 It is obvious that this ethereal woman is not a typical “human being”; instead, she acts more like the jinn. The very description of voluntary living and dying is a quality of the jinn.

Belief in the Existence of the Jinn as a Cultural Syndrome  295 Final Remarks Culture-bound syndromes are seen among certain ethnic groups and in ­different geographical regions, and their clinical manifestations are such that they are not usually included among the mental illnesses common around the world. Belief in the existence of the jinn and their forceful impact on people’s lives is a culture-bound syndrome. One of the constant problems of traditional societies is the mixing of facts and beliefs with superstitions and misunderstandings. Some beliefs do not have clear and correct support, but the passage of time has pushed them to the circle of holiness. These are false and baseless beliefs that lack a rational and scientific basis and are not compatible with the standards of the Sharia, even though they have been expressed through using religious symbols and are given a holy appearance. The belief in the existence of the jinn as a culture-bound syndrome permeates the works of Iranian modernist writer Sadeq Hedayat, who was a close observer of popular culture and a serious thinker attempting to mount criticism on superstitious beliefs, including the belief in the existence of the jinn, which is examined in Neyrangestān: Persian Folklore and his other works such as Hājī Āqā, The Pearl Cannon, and The Blind Owl in which the ethereal woman corresponds to the jinn found in popular culture. Throughout his short life, Hedayat tried to lead the flag of modernity and intellectualism, and one way of accomplishing this mission was to fight dogma and superstition. Notes 1 All translations, except for The Blind Owl, are authors’. 2 https://www.cgie.org.ir/fa/article/240492/%D8%AC%D9%86; accessed on July 22,2022. 3 “[J]inns resemble human beings in various respects. They eat, drink, make sex and die. They like to eat unsalted food (mesus), or sweet foods.[…] They live in groups since there are cities and tribes of jinns. They are uncountable, of different types, different sexes, different religions and different races and speak different languages. They may speak through their human hosts or one may hear them as voices without shape. Sometimes one may see them. They assume the shape of humans or animals and appear to individuals.” Mohammed Maarouf, Jinn Eviction as a Discourse of Power (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 85. 4 Robert Lebling, Legends of the Fire Spirits (London: I.B.Tauris, 2010), 185. 5 Amira El-Zein, Islam, Arabs, and the Intelligent World of the Jinn (New York: Syracuse University Press, 2009), 74. 6 M.J.L. Young, “The Treatment of the Principle of Evil in the Qur’ān,” Islamic Studies 5, no. 3 (1966): 276. G. Hussein Rassool (2019) also asserts: “The word ‘al-Jinn’ in Arabic refers to something that is covered or concealed” (104). 7 Amira El-Zein, Islam, Arabs, and the Intelligent World of the Jinn (New York: Syracuse University Press, 2009), 74. 8 M.J.L. Young, “The Treatment of the Principle of Evil in the Qur’ān,” Islamic Studies 5, no. 3 (1966): 276.

296  Masoud Farahmandfar and Saman Taheri 9 Robert Lebling in Legends of the Fire Spirits (2010: 186) argues that even before the emergence of Islam in Iran, “jinn beliefs crystallised from the primordial opposition of light and darkness, which formed the basis of the earliest Persian religions.” Also, Amira El-Zein in Islam, Arabs, and the Intelligent World of the Jinn (2009: xv) asserts that “in Persian mythology, there existed two classes of spiritual entities: the Daevas who were demons and fighters against the supreme god, Ahura Mazda, while the Peris were good spirits, some say fallen angels who guided the soul to the world of the deceased. Peris were similar to fairies in Irish and Celtic mythologies and to jinn as well, and, like them, could be either compassionate or malign toward humans.” For further explanation, please visit the website of the Encyclopedia of Iranian Popular Culture. 10 Amira El-Zein, Islam, Arabs, and the Intelligent World of the Jinn (New York: Syracuse University Press, 2009), 10. According to G. Hussein Rassool (2019), “belief in Jinn is substantial across the Muslim world. […] Pew Research Center (2012) reported that in the South Asian countries surveyed, at least seven-in-ten Muslims affirm that Jinn exist” (103). 11 It begins like this: Say, [O Muḥammad], “It has been revealed to me that a group of the jinn listened and said, ‘Indeed, we have heard an amazing Qur’ān [i.e., recitation]’.” Trans. Yusuf Ali. 12 Mohammed Maarouf, Jinn Eviction as a Discourse of Power (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 83. 13 Ibid., 86. 14 https://www.cgie.org.ir/fa/article/240492/%D8%AC%D9%86. 15 Houra Yavari, “The Blind Owl: Present in the Past or the Story of a Dream,” in Sadeq Hedayat: His Work and His Wondrous World, ed. Homa Katouzian (New York: Routledge, 2008), 45, 46. 16 Jamshid Behnam, Iranian Va Andisheye Tadjaddod [The Iranians and the ­Concept of Modernization], (Tehran: Sahand Publication, 1996), 127–130. 17 Abbas Milani, Tajaddod va Tajaddod Setizi Dar Iran [Modernity and Antimodernity in Iran], (Tehran: Akhtaran Publication, 2008), 9–11. 18 Ya’qub Azhand, Tajdid-e Adabi Dar Dore Mashrute [Literary Modernism in Constitutional Period], (Tehran: Olum Ensani Publication, 2006), 315–325. 19 Marta Simidchieva, “Rituals of Renewal: Ṣādeq Hedāyat’s The Blind Owl and the Wine Myths of Manučehri,” Oriente Moderno 83, no. 1 (2003): 220. 20 Homa Katouzian, “Introduction: The Wondrous World of Sadeq Hedayat,” in Sadeq Hedayat: His Work and His Wondrous World, ed. Homa Katouzian (New York: Routledge, 2008), 1. 21 Ibid., 2–5. 22 Hushang Philsooph, “Hedayat, Vegetarianism and Modernity: Altruism, ­Leonardo Da Vinci, and Sub-Humanization,” in Sadeq Hedayat: His Work and His Wondrous World, ed. Homa Katouzian (New York: Routledge, 2008), 166. 23 Parisa Vaziri, “Pneumatics of Blackness: Nāṣir Taqvā’ī’s Bād-i Jin and ­Modernity’s Anthropological Drive,” in Persian Literature and Modernity: Production and Reception, eds. Hamid Rezaei Yazdi, Arshavez Mozafari (New York: Routledge, 2019), 230. 24 Homa Katouzian, “Introduction: The Wondrous World of Sadeq Hedayat,” in Sadeq Hedayat: His Work and His Wondrous World, ed. Homa Katouzian (New York: Routledge, 2008), 2, 3. Also, during this period and under the influence of nationalist discourse, a group of Iranian intellectuals (the most important of them being Sadegh Hedayat) focused on the study of folklore, which was partly the legacy of the intellectuals of the Constitutional era. The main audiences of these intellectuals were the common people and not the elite. This also led to a greater connection between Persian prose and popular culture, and the spoken and written languages, bringing about the simplification of Persian prose and its entry into the more general spheres of Iranian culture.

Belief in the Existence of the Jinn as a Cultural Syndrome  297 The process of benchmarking the West and the modernization of Iranian society continued rapidly until 1979. In the same vein, Persian prose also underwent major changes in connection with the major developments in the various political, cultural, social, and economic areas of Iranian life. For more information, see the following: Nematollah Fazeli. Political Dimensions of Culture in Iran: Anthropology, ­Politics and Society in the Twentieth Century. Translated by V. Shokti Amghani. Sabzan Publishers, Tehran: 2018. 25 “File:Sadegh Hedayat Colorized.jpg – Wikimedia Commons,” accessed December 18, 2022, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sadegh_Hedayat_colorized. jpg. PhotoColor, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons. 26 Firoozeh Khazrai, “Satire in Hajji Aqa,” in Sadeq Hedayat: His Work and His Wondrous World, ed. Homa Katouzian (New York: Routledge, 2008), 103. 27 Ibid., 141. 28 Sadeq Hedayat, Neyrangestān (Tehran: Jāvidān Publication, 2011), 23. 29 Robert Lebling, 187. 30 Ibid., 24. 31 Ibid., 38. 32 John W Berry et al., Cross-Cultural Psychology: Research and Applications (United Kingdom: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 12–15. 33 Ibid., 10. 34 Ibid., 12. 35 Sadeq Hedayat, Hājī Āqā, 128. 36 Sadeq Hedayat, Tūp-e Morvārī, 107. 37 Sadeq Hedayat, Neyrangestān (Tehran: Jāvidān Publication, 2011), 83. 38 Ibid., 69. 39 Ibid., 111. 40 Ibid., 53. 41 Ibid., 20. 42 Ibid., 115. 43 Ibid., 28. 44 Ibid., 29. 45 Sadeq Hedayat, The Blind Owl, Trans. D.P.Costello (New York: John Calder Publishers, 1957), 10. 46 Ibid., 13. 47 Ibid., 16. 48 Ibid., 14. 49 Ibid., 14. 50 Ibid., 15. 51 Ibid., 18. 52 Ibid., 19. 53 Ibid., 21. 54 Ibid., 22. 55 Ibid., 22. 56 Ibid., 24.

References Ali, Abdullah Yusuf. The Holy Quran: Text, Translation, and Commentary. New Delhi: Kitab Bhavan, 2015. Azhand, Ya’qub. Tajdid-e Adabi Dar Dore Mashrute [Literary Modernism in ­Constitutional Period]. Tehran: Olum Ensani Publication, 2006. Behnam, Jamshid. Iranian va Andisheye Tadjaddod [the Iranians and the Concept of Modernization]. Tehran: Sahand Publication, 1996.

298  Masoud Farahmandfar and Saman Taheri Berry, John W., Ype H. Poortinga, Marshall H. Segall, and Pierre R. Dasen. CrossCultural Psychology: Research and Applications. Cambridge: Cambridge ­University Press, 2013. Cisco, Michael. “Eternal Recurrence in the Blind Owl.” Eternal Recurrence in the Blind Owl 43, no. 4 (September 2010): 471–488. El-Zein, Amira. Islam, Arabs, and the Intelligent World of the Jinn. New York: ­Syracuse University Press, 2009. “File:Sadegh Hedayat Colorized.jpg - Wikimedia Commons.” Accessed December 18, 2022. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sadegh_Hedayat_colorized.jpg. Hashemi, Mohammad Mansour. Naqd va Tahlil-e Dastan Haye Sadeq Hedayat [Analysis of Sadeq Hedayat’s Selected Stories]. Tehran: Roozegar Publication, 2002. Hedayat, Sadeq. Hājī Āqā, n.d. Hedayat, Sadeq. Neyrangestān. Tehran: Jāvidān Publication, 2011. Hedayat, Sadeq. The Blind Owl. Translated by Desmond Patrick Costello. New York: Grove Pr, 1957. Hedayat, Sadeq. Tūp-e Morvārī, n.d. Katouzian, Homa. Sadeq Hedayat: His Work and His Wondrous World. London: Routledge, 2011. Lashgari, Deirdre. “Absurdity and Creation in the Work of Sadeq Hedayat.” Iranian Studies 15, no. 1/4 (1982): 31–52. ­ anzibar. Lebling, Robert. Legends of the Fire Spirits: Jinn and Genies from Arabia to Z London: I.B.Tauris, 2010. Maarouf, Mohammed. Jinn Eviction as a Discourse of Power. Leiden: Brill, 2007. Milani, Abbas. Tajaddod va Tajaddod Setizi Dar Iran [Modernity and AntiModernity in Iran]. Tehran: Akhtaran Publication, 2008. Omidsalar, Mahmoud, and Nayereh Eftekhari. “Jinn.” Encyclopedia of Iranian Popular Culture, 2021. https://www.cgie.org.ir/fa/article/240492/%D8%AC%D9%86. Rassool, Hussein. Evil Eye, Jinn Possession, and Mental Health Issues. London: Routledge, 2019. Rezaei Yazdi, Hamid, and Arshavez Mozafari, eds. Persian Literature and Modernity: Production and Reception. New York: Routledge, 2019. Shamisa, Sirus. Dastan-e Yek Ruh: Sharh va Matn-e Kamel-e Buf-e Kur-e Sadeq ­Hedayat [the Story of a Ghost: The Blind Owl’s Text and Interpretation]. Tehran: Ramin Publication, 1996. Simidchieva, Marta. “Rituals of Renewal: Ṣādeq Hedāyat’s The Blind Owl and the Wine Myths of Manučehri.” Oriente Moderno 83, no. 1 (2003): 219–241. Young, M. J. L. “The Treatment of the Principle of Evil in the Qur’ān.” Islamic ­Studies 5, no. 3 (September 1966): 275–281.

15 Ghostly Environments Faru Rab and the Transnational in Atlantics (2019) Chelsea Wessels

Introduction Atlantics (Atlantique) is director Mati Diop’s first feature fiction film, inspired by her short film Atlantiques, which follows a group of young Senegalese men attempting a dangerous boat crossing to Europe in search of a better life. While making the short film, Diop was struck by something one of the young men said to her, “that when you make the decision to leave, you’re really already dead.”1 Diop reflected that “just almost from the expressions in the faces of these young men who were planning to make this attempt… they looked almost as though they were no longer there – as if they were ghosts.”2 This became the basis of the feature film Atlantics, which focuses on the perspective of the women left behind. The film follows a young girl, Ada (Mama Sané), who is in love with a local worker named Souleiman (Ibrahima Traoré), despite her engagement to a rich man who works out of the country much of the year. When their corrupt boss refuses to pay them for their work, Souleiman and a group of young men set out by boat for Spain without saying goodbye. When the men are killed at sea, an event which is not shown on screen, their spirits return to possess the young women left behind to seek justice for their unpaid labor. This chapter uses the possession by the faru rab to consider the transnational elements of the film, from the environment of Dakar to the film’s circulation and reception on the festival circuit. Before moving on, it is worth clarifying the use of the term “transnational” and its value in approaching Atlantics. Elizabeth Ezra and Terry Rowden introduce the “transnational” as global forces that link people or institutions across nations…[which] enables us to better understand the changing ways in which the contemporary world is being imagined by an increasing number of filmmakers across genres as a global system rather than a collection of more or less autonomous nations.3

DOI: 10.4324/9781003379096-20

300  Chelsea Wessels In other words, the concept of the transnational allows for the examination of both global and local influences within the film, as well as consideration of its circulation as a transnational film. In Atlantics, this is significant in situating the use of the faru rab as a culture-bound syndrome alongside narratives of migration and the setting of Dakar as well as the film’s exhibition as a festival film. Key to this is the direction of Mati Diop. Diop, who is also an actress and writer, is the niece of Djibril Diop Mambety, the famed Senegalese director known for his film Touki Bouki. Her mother is French, however, and she was born and raised in Paris. Her decision to return to Senegal for her first feature film will be discussed later in the chapter, but her movement between national contexts as a filmmaker is significant for framing the film as transnational. Finally, the film is a Senegalese-French-Belgian coproduction, with Netflix purchasing the worldwide distribution rights – excluding China, Benelux, Switzerland, Russia, and France – after the film’s Grand Prix win at the 2019 Cannes Film Festival. This chapter will first introduce the faru rab as a culture-bound syndrome, considering its significance for the film’s reading. It will then turn to the setting of Dakar as a space possessed by global capitalism, emphasizing the connection between the environment, history, and the possession of young women. As a festival film, the transnational circulation of the film and its diverse audiences are the focus of the third section, which argues that the use of the faru rab as a culture-bound syndrome is significant in terms of gender and sexuality. Returning to ecofeminism as a framework, the chapter argues that the use of the faru rab emphasizes a key connection between the environment and women’s bodies, which helps navigate the complex resonances of migration, labor, development, and diverse audiences. Faru Rab as a Senegalese Culture-Bound Syndrome Diop has explained in interviews that she was interested in the Islamic spirit, the Djinn, to explore the impact of migration on the women who are left behind.4 In particular, the rab are a subset of Djinns grounded in Senegalese folklore. As András Zempléni notes, there is a “universal problem of discernment” between rab and similar terms such as jineen or seytaane, but rab can be distinguished as “ancestral spirits once associated with a member of the family, dead or alive.”5 Further, there is a difference between rab who are “stable characters” (also often called tuur) and those that cause “various idiosyncratic experiences (visions, voices, cenesthetic sensations, phantasmal figures) that a patient or a healthy person attributes to an anonymous rab which he or she supposes to be ‘following’ (topp) him or her and which asks for something.”6 As a possession-illness, the rab suggests a close relationship with the person and the spirit, and while the rab spirits are often male, “the present-day rab cult is performed mainly by women.”7 Known as lover spirits or boyfriend spirits, faru rab take possession of women’s bodies, often using them to communicate or to seek justice. In the case of Atlantics, the faru rab fulfills both functions. It is worth noting that

Faru Rab and the Transnational in Atlantics (2019)  301 while djinn and rab are often used interchangeably, emphasizing the faru rab as the source of possession here is important for thinking about the local context of the film and its transnational resonances. As Diop has noted: Within the world of jinn, there are also what you call faru rab – male lover spirits that take possession of women’s bodies at night […] They make love to them but they are invisible. When a woman seemingly fails at her marriage or in the household, we’ll suspect her to have a faru rab – to be possessed by a romantic jinn that prevents her from entirely giving herself over to her husband.8 This emphasis by Diop on the gendered nature of the faru rab, and the implications for women who are possessed by them, is significant for the argument in this chapter, particularly in considering how this cultural syndrome is used in relation to the complexities of global capitalism and women’s bodies. The discourse around “possession” is important to briefly contextualize as well, in terms of how this chapter will use the term and in relation to the rab specifically. Zempléni describes the rab as a “possession-illness,” writing: Posession by rab, on the one hand, is therefore similar to the magical ‘work’ of sorcery, in that it is associated mostly with lasting, progressive or recurrent disorders. On the other hand, it is similar to witchcraft in that these disorders are mainly experienced outside the body.9 The rab enters the body and takes possession, and a distinctive feature of the faru rab, specifically, is that “this kind of wicked spirit must be exorcised,” rather than the traditional “sacrificial exchange” practiced in relation to the rab.10 In her 1976 book Possession, Erika Bourguignon offered two broad types: “possession” and “possession trance” – arguing that both involve a “person [being] changed in some way through the presence in him or on him of a spirit entity or power,” with the distinction that one puts the possessed in an “altered state” (a trance) while one only impacts bodily functions.11 Emma Cohen responds to critiques of Bourguignon’s work by developing the categories of executive possession and pathogenic possession: Both possession forms entail the direct actions of spirit entities in or on a person’s body. Pathogenic possession concepts result from the operation of cognitive tools that deal with the representation of contamination (both positive and negative); the presence of the spirit entity is typically (but not always) manifested in the form of illness. Executive possession concepts mobilise cognitive tools that deal with the world of intentional agents; the spirit entity is typically represented as taking over the host’s executive control, or replacing the host’s ‘mind’ (or intentional agency), thus assuming control of bodily behaviours.12

302  Chelsea Wessels In the case of Atlantics, the framing of executive possession is a helpful framework for the possession by the faru rab. In an interview with Film Comment, Diop discusses how possession is significant for understanding the film on multiple levels: When I was writing I was thinking about the invisible force that was taking possession [over people] as a way to talk about very different, very strong influences. Africa was crossed at first by the Arabic and Muslim cultures, who colonized black Africa, then France, then of course American culture, and now it’s China and Dubai. It was also a way to try to figure out how today looks, what the imagination and the landscape, the interior landscape, of a young girl of Senegal today looks like in terms of influences.13 Following this line of thinking, this chapter will argue that the framework of possession can also be extended to understand the environments of the film and the way Dakar is used to signify complex transnational histories and development, as well as the film’s themes and circulation as a festival film. Stranded Migration: Environments and Possession A significant element of the film is the setting of Dakar, the capital city surrounded on three sides by the Atlantic Ocean. The Canary Islands, ­technically part of the European Union, sit about halfway between Senegal and Europe – about 1000 miles of ocean. Since the mid-1990s, thousands of young people have attempted this crossing in the hopes of finding a better life in Europe – often taking small fishing boats on this perilous journey. Many of them do not survive. While migration forms one element of the transnational in this film, Suzanne Enzerink argues that focus on Dakar is important for pushing back on stereotypical depictions of migration and Senegal.14 She writes that “a subject ostensibly saturated already by media perspectives – migrants and refugees seeking to reach Europe – is rendered wholly differently when focusing on the absences, by ‘giving the floor back to those affected by migration and those left behind’.”15 Rather than directly showing the ill-fated journey of Souleiman and his friends, the film stays singularly focused on Dakar as its location. The local is inseparable from the global in Dakar, from the American t-shirts and iPhones seen throughout the film to the contemporary development of the city. The opening sequence encapsulates these transnational flows, as well as the impact of global capitalism, by immediately anchoring the viewer in the complexities of Dakar – and by extension, the film as a transnational production. As the credits unfold on a black screen, the sounds of the city begin to filter in before the opening long take of a construction site, partially obscured by smog.

Faru Rab and the Transnational in Atlantics (2019)  303 While cars and workers move through the foreground, the partially c­ onstructed tower rises on the right of the frame, and a second construction project blocks off the left side. Subsequent shots present the men working on the site, using scaffolding and brooms to labor in contrast to the futuristic construction of the tower from the opening shot. Significantly, this sequence also includes a shot of cows walking past the construction site, a reference to Touki Bouki (1973), as well as Diop’s previous film Mille Soleils (2013). Here, the cows present a sharp contrast to the ultramodern building project in the background, further underscoring the tension between the capitalist development and the actual lived experiences of the workers. As Gigi Adair notes: …Dakar appears here as newly colonized by the powerful but ­impersonal force of international capital. The tower appears to promise that the future or a certain form of modernity has arrived. For the workers, however, this future is characterized by material conditions of exploitation and abuse well known from the colonial past.16 The impact of international capital is a continued presence in the film and is raised here through to demonstrate the significance of the setting of Dakar as a site of tension between tradition and modernity, with lived impacts on the labor depicted in the film. This environment forms an important element of the film, significantly because Dakar is also a city framed by the Atlantic Ocean. In Atlantics, the ocean serves as an audiovisual motif around the film’s themes of mass migration, exploitation, and the human costs of global capitalism. Much of what is written about the film focuses on the layers of meaning in the depictions of the ocean. As Patricia Pisters notes, “Its overwhelming material presence in Atlantics enfolds thousands of stories of migration…it also raises countless other stories…reaching back to the ancestors of the Middle Passage…it obtains a metaphysical or supernatural power itself.”17 This section builds from these readings of the ocean to focus on the link between the environment and the bodies of the young women as a significant element of the possession narrative and the use of the faru rab. In the film, the impact of these issues of global capitalism plays out in the bodies of women through the possession narrative, inextricably linking the environment and the struggle to find justice through solidarity. Ecofeminism recognizes that women’s bodies, and labor, are linked to natural resources that are in turn exploited by patriarchal structures. As Ariel Salleh argues, “its first premise is that the ‘material’ resourcing of women and of nature are structurally interconnected in the capitalist patriarchal system.”18 In other words, an ecofeminist approach connects patriarchal oppression and the destruction of nature in service of profit and progress. In Atlantics, this is significant to consider as the possession by the faru rab complicates the direct connection between gender, labor, and the environment, while at the

304  Chelsea Wessels same time underscoring the commodification of women’s bodies as part of the capitalist process. To illustrate these connections, we can turn to the first sequence of possession in the film, where the young women converge to confront the exploitative construction boss who refused to pay the men their wages. There are three key elements to this sequence: the environment, the depiction of possession through the bodies, blocking, and voices of the young women, and the political implications of their solidarity. Environmentally, the scene opens with a shot of the ocean, the waves reaching shore in the dim light from the nearby buildings. The next shot focuses on the heavy moisture on parked cars, emphasizing that the water permeates the city. Lindsay Turner has argued that while the ocean is significant in the film, “it is in the air that the film’s major themes most powerfully converge.”19 Subsequent shots establishing the environment of Dakar emphasize the connection between the ocean as a source of the moisture dripping from everything and the thick mist enveloping the city. Following from Turner, the visible presence of the air reminds viewers of both the natural environment (the ocean) and the built environment. This is most clearly seen in the final shot of this sequence, an extreme high-angle long shot that looks out over the ocean, and the edges of Dakar, and prominently places the tower (which is the project the men were not paid to work on) near the center of the frame, rising in the distance with its blinking light as a beacon of global capitalism on the shore. The transnational is present in the environment as well, through the historical resonances of the setting. Turner argues that “both the pollution in the air and the relationship between air and water are highly politicized, linked to contemporary economic development and the transatlantic slave trade, respectively.”20 The emphasis on the environment in this scene is part of a larger pattern in the film, underscoring not only the specific environment of Dakar but how this environment is shaped by colonial histories and the slave trade, as well as the impacts of global capitalism. Adair also emphasizes the significance of the ocean and the beach historically and transnationally: This historical resonance with slavery is joined by another: numerous beachside scenes of the film were shot at the site of the 1944 Thiaroye massacre of French West African troops by the French Army in response to the African soldiers’ demand for fair and equal pay (the subject of Sembène’s film Camp de Thiaroye) […] The film’s beachside setting therefore insists on a historical contextualization of both contemporary social relations within Senegal and relations, including of movement and migration, between Senegal and Europe.21 The environments of the film are deeply connected to the political histories of migration, colonialism, and development, and the film reflects that in its formal approach. As Rosalind Galt compellingly points out, “In evoking the Middle Passage through the men’s deaths at sea, the film recalls what

Faru Rab and the Transnational in Atlantics (2019)  305 Hortense Spillers terms the ‘oceanic’,” which “bespeaks precisely slavery’s stripping of name, place, and identity, and it is this ‘nowhere at all’ that Diop both recalls and rewrites.”22 In this way, we might extend the use of possession in the narrative to consider how the environment itself becomes possessed by the forces of global capitalism. The environment is further linked to the possession in the third shot of the sequence, where we first see the faru rab take over the girls’ bodies. Mariama sits up in bed, her eyes rolled back and white and she is breathing heavily. The physical connection of possession to the environment is furthered in the next shot, which shows the moisture on her thighs along with the diegetic sound of the ocean breeze – sweat is part of the possession, as the film has previously shown, but also impacted by the humidity of the ocean. As the young women exit their homes through windows, climb fences, and converge in the street, it becomes clear that they are operating under executive possession. A high-angle shot emphasizes the purposeful group movement as they gather and head toward the house of N’Diaye (Diankou Sembene), the corrupt boss who failed to pay the men for their construction work. As they stride purposefully in the same direction, their strides and single forward focus are in sharp contrast to the wandering movements along the beach seen earlier in the film as Ada and her friends headed to the club. Accompanied by the sounds of the ocean breeze and the haunting score by Fatima Al Qadiri, the series of shots alternates between the women moving together and the empty streets. The blocking of their bodies also suggests the protestors marching in the streets in 2011 and 2012, which Diop has cited as another specific influence in setting the film in Dakar: I felt there was an invisible link between these two periods, that the boys who left Dakar for Spain, those who didn’t make it and who die in the sea, took something of the living with them. And that the ones in 2012 who were in the streets shouting and asking for change were also fed by their loss. Trying to make these two chapters, these two precise moments of Dakar, of Senegal, coexist was something I was interested in.23 Here, again, the metaphor of possession is employed visually as part of the film’s political project, resonating with the local and global. The young women striding through the streets to seek retribution work to remind viewers of not just the past of the film, the departure of the young men, but the specific legacies of corruption that led to this narrative moment. An exterior establishing shot brings the sequence to N’Diaye’s house, where the women are arranged in the semi-dark interior as he arrives home with his wife. Throughout their confrontation, the women sit and stand in a relaxed, open manner – legs spread, hands clasped, in a distinctly masculine style. Their physical mannerisms are also in sharp contrast with the feminine silky, lacy nightgowns that many of them wear. To return to the specificity

306  Chelsea Wessels of the faru rab, the spirits are often seen as gaining access to women who are behaving or dressing immodestly. It is also worth noting that they retain their voices, speaking as the men in terms of what they say, but their voices are unchanged from what we’ve heard them earlier in the film. However, at one point they laugh together as N’Diaye tries to throw them out, clearly a gendered response, and the lower register emphasizes that they are operating under executive possession. The direct representation of possession here is significant as part of a theme of control across the film – control of environments, control of history, and control of women’s bodies. In other words, while in this instance the women are possessed by the spirits of men, who control them to seek retribution, the film offers other examples where women’s bodies are under the control of men and the patriarchy – most notably in Ada’s seemingly arranged marriage to Omar and the scene where she is forced to undergo an examination to ensure her hymen is still intact, performed by a male doctor, of course. This control extends to the environment and its histories, as previously pointed out, in that the city of Dakar is possessed by both flows of global capitalism and the impact of colonial violence. As ecofeminism reminds us, women and nature are commodified in service of capitalist patriarchy. While this sequence emphasizes the possession of women’s bodies to seek justice, it brings together larger threads about the impact of global capitalism: the exploitation of labor, the environmental degradation, and the costs of migration. Transnational Circulations: Festivals, Gender, and Sexuality Diop has noted in multiple interviews that it was important to her to return to Senegal to make her first feature, both to tell a story that pushed back on representations of migration and for herself: …writing this character of Ada was a way to live the African adolescence I didn’t have a chance to live. I lived my adolescence in Paris, in a very white environment—which was fine, but I think that all the episodes, all the periods I didn’t spend in Senegal as a mixed girl, I needed to find it back.24 As a transnational filmmaker, the choice of setting reflects her own personal history, and Diop has also discussed the importance of engaging with the historical layers of the location. She describes the film as being set in the “hyper-present, in order to make the past and the future circular.”25 As this chapter discussed previously, the use of the environment offers one way to foreground the intertwined histories of Dakar, the Atlantic Ocean, and the young women coming of age in the film. The production of the film is an important layer to consider here, as the choices made by Diop and her creative team underscore the importance of the

Faru Rab and the Transnational in Atlantics (2019)  307 film in its Senegalese context, as well as its future as a festival film. ­Building from the short film, Diop wanted to maintain elements of documentary in the film by casting non-professional actors and shooting the film in Wolof. For her, the documentary aspect of the film was more than just a way to work {but also} a moral and an ethical approach to telling the story because I need the people who embody the characters to be pretty much connected to the social realities of the character.26 But while shooting on location, language, and casting were significant in anchoring the production in Senegal, Diop’s co-writer Olivier Demangel “didn’t know Dakar” and she has discussed how she “didn’t want to write over there” in order to build “a very universal tale.”27 The tension between anchoring the film so clearly in Dakar and developing something more universal, in this case, preparing a film for the festival circuit, is key background for the use of the faru rab in the film. Considering the film as a festival film is significant for understanding how it has been interpreted and the way that the culture-bound illness has been adapted with multiple audiences in mind. As Cindy Hing-Yuk Wong argues, “Festivals constitute a dynamic system where a specific cultural artifact – cinema – circulates and multiple actors continuously strive to redefine its meaning and place in its immediate environment, a wider film world, and larger socio-economic and political contexts.”28 In other words, festivals create multiple audiences for films through their diverse screening situations, which move films beyond local audiences and through transnational circuits of reception. In the case of Atlantics, as discussed previously, it was important to Diop to make the film in Senegal, but it was financed with an eye for global markets. The film’s world premiere was at Cannes in May 2019, where it took the Grand Prix and garnered global acclaim (and a distribution deal with Netflix). From there, the film premiered in Dakar in August 2019 and then made the rounds at most major festivals around the world. The use of the faru rab as part of the possession narrative is critically positioned in terms of the film’s audiences. As Diop has noted: I really liked the idea of ​​creating a mixed character, of having men speak through women’s bodies… It represented a kind of fusion of struggles. It was thought at one time that Souleiman would come back to haunt the body of a woman who had sex with Ada. We abandoned the idea because I thought the Senegalese public was not ready for it, I had the feeling that if Souleiman came back to own Dior, it could have created a controversy.  Since then, I often wonder if I made the right choice, because it is essential to have the courage of your ideas, even in more aggressive and offensive contexts.29

308  Chelsea Wessels This statement is significant for several reasons: first, thinking about the ­specific use of the culture-bound syndrome in relation to gender and sexuality, and second, the emphasis on the Senegalese public as (one of) the key audiences for the film. To unpack this first point, we can return to the use of possession in the film and the specific ways it plays out in Souleiman and Ada’s relationship. As previously noted, the young women that are possessed by the deceased male laborers are wholly claimed by executive possession, maintaining their voices but possessed even in their physical movements and communication. ­However, the film notably handles Souleiman differently, as he possesses the body of a local inspector, Issa (Amadou Mbow). This possession is introduced indirectly at a celebration for Ada’s marriage to Omar, where the wedding bed goes up in flames. As Issa investigates this, he eventually sees footage of himself in the crowds and realizes he was the one who set it while possessed by Souleiman. This is the final reveal in the film, however, and his possession unfolds at several points throughout the film. Issa is introduced in a sequence that begins with an establishing shot of the burned mattress. In the next shot, he jolts awake, his face framed in a closeup, immediately connecting him to the incident, even if we haven’t yet seen evidence he was involved. As he arrives on the scene to help with the investigation, his boss asks if he is okay, noting “yesterday, you collapsed.” One of the other officers also asks if he is feeling better, which Issa also brushes off as he puts on gloves to begin investigating (his own) crime scene. Later, when he goes to Souleiman’s house to search his room, Issa pauses to look outside as the sound of waves increases and the film abruptly cuts to a long shot of the ocean. Immediately after, Issa locates what appears to be a note from Ada and a heart etched with “A+S” on the wall. Through this series of visual cues, the film immediately links Issa, Souleiman, and Ada. This sequence, which occurs a little before the halfway point of the film, signals the introduction of the possession narrative. In the lead up to the scene discussed in the previous section, we are given the transition into executive possession. For Issa, it begins during his interview with Ada where he repeatedly pushes her about Souleiman’s location, telling her to “look at me” as he questions her. As the interrogation continues, Issa begins to sweat profusely, eventually staggering out of the room and telling another office to send Ada home. As he stumbles along the street as the sun sets, seemingly gripped by a fever, the film cuts to Fanta experiencing similar symptoms – writhing on a couch while Dior tries to take care of her. By weaving together these two experiences, the film suggests that the possession extends beyond the direct experience, which those that are possessed do not remember. Here, Fanta seems confused but still herself, and her eyes are not the full white signifying executive possession. After a long take of the ocean, a lone buoy bobbing in the waves, accompanied by both music and the sound of Fanta’s breathing, the film cuts to Mariama in bed, being attended by her mother and a nurse after fainting. As the sun completely sets, the possession sequence is set up, but this transition is significant for the suggestion of the impact of possession beyond the experience.

Faru Rab and the Transnational in Atlantics (2019)  309 Because of this, it is also worth returning to the aftermath of the sequence discussed previously, where the young women are possessed and confront N’Diaye at this house. The scene begins with a close-up of Mariama sleeping, cutting to her dirty feet and slowly panning back up to her face. As she wakes in her bed and notices the dirt on her body, she pulls her nightgown down over her thighs and calls out for her mother. The fear is clear on her face, not just that she’s left the house without knowing it, but what might have happened. Previously, the film has established Mariama as Ada’s more conservative friend – as she referred to Fanta and Dior as “those sluts” that she doesn’t think Ada should spend time with. Here again, the specific context of the faru rab as a culture-bound syndrome is important. As Galt notes, “In conventional lore, such possession is a consequence of dressing immodestly, and so animist belief is entangled with Islamic codes of conduct to reinforce conservative gender codes.”30 Galt reads the possession here as “melancholic,” where the women are possessed “not because the women broke religious codes but because their boyfriends broke with the untenable conditions of postcolonial capitalism.”31 However, Mariama’s reaction suggests a fear connected to violation, as she did not consent to this possession. If the faru rab are typically thought of as spirits that might take over women who are less modest, this sequence addresses the painful and terrifying consequences for the young women after. In contrast, after their second meeting with N’Diaye where they receive their payment, they are shown waking up surrounded by money. So while justice is achieved, it is not without a cost and it is worth noting through Mariama’s response that the women are possessed without consent. This again links the women’s bodies to capitalist exploitation, however, and becomes even more complicated within the broader transnational contexts of Atlantics. More specifically relating gender and possession to issues of power, Janice Boddy writes that “a view now widely held is that possession is an embodied critique of colonial, national, or global hegemonies whose abrasions are deeply, but not exclusively, held by women.”32 ­Boddy’s point here helps return to considering the work of women, in that the retribution sought by the possessed women is not just revenge, but also restoring payment to the families (women) left behind. In other words, this is work traditionally done by women in maintaining and building communities – work that is also unrewarded by global capitalism. As Boddy argues, possession may be “concerned with social domains for which women are typically assigned primary responsibility: the maintenance of kin ties and family health, the social reproduction of their communities, often in the face of radical social change and erosion of prior supports.”33 Here, we return to possession in the film as a significant reflection on the local context of Dakar, as well as the larger impacts of migration, as a result of exploitation. As this chapter argued in the previous section, the film situates these larger issues as transnational but also gendered. Finally, to return to the film’s production and reception, the issue of gendered possession is layered with both Diop’s concern about the reception

310  Chelsea Wessels in Senegal and her stated focus on the film telling a “universal” tale. 34 As the quote from Diop earlier reflects, she ultimately used Issa for Souleiman’s possession to make the film more palatable for Senegalese audiences when Ada and Souleiman reunite. However, even with the shift in gender for this pairing, Galt argues that “the film nonetheless registers queerness in its multiplicities of desire” where “gender’s mutability registers across the visual field,” particularly through the shifting between the possessed bodies of the women and their mirrored images as men in the nightclub sequence where Ada learns of Souleiman’s death.35 This sequence is reflective of a larger visual pattern in the film’s depiction of possession, which uses mirrors and images (a painting and photograph of Souleiman in his mother’s house) to reflect the identity of the possessor. In a roundtable discussion on “faru rab et coro rab: mythe ou réalité?” participants discussed the rab in cultural and academic contexts, emphasizing the subjectivity of “seeing.” Following the Wolof adage “you can’t doubt what you see with your own eyes,” participants frame the rab as a kind of personified image that can be visible or invisible.36 In the film, this helps construct possession as something both visible and invisible, specific to both local and global contexts as a culture-bound syndrome. While Diop has identified djinns and the faru rab as the inspiration for possession in the film, the film itself does not include this information. At one point, Fanta says “the marabout said that a spirit got in through my belly button because I don’t dress correctly,” but otherwise, there is very little discussion of the possession and any specific spirits. For an audience in Dakar, where the rab is widely known, this context is more likely to be immediately recognizable. For a Western viewer finding the film on Netflix, there is no clear explanation in the film and the specific cultural nuance of the faru rab would likely go unnoticed. Yet, as Galt argues, in the film, “Haunting imagines a supernatural frequency beyond normal human perception, but one not disconnected from the political.”37 One of the reasons this chapter has quoted Diop so extensively is because she has been clear across all of her interviews and publicity for the film about the importance of the setting and context of Dakar, allowing critics to pick up on these elements and write reviews that circulate this information beyond the festival circuit.38 Conclusion The transnational works across the production, distribution, and exhibition of Atlantics, layering the possession narrative in the film with complex references to Senegalese beliefs, history, and environments alongside the larger frameworks of global capitalism, development, and migrant narratives. ­Zempléni argues that the “increased visibility of the rab cult” today is “clearly linked to the process of disintegration of Senegalese lineages ongoing since the beginning of colonization.”39 In other words, the local engagement with the rab is inextricable from the global impacts of colonization and capitalism. The faru rab,

Faru Rab and the Transnational in Atlantics (2019)  311 a culture bound-syndrome, further helps “situate women’s possession in wider social discourses and practices of power,” as the bodies of the young women are closely connected to the environmental impacts of global capitalism and migration.40 An ecofeminist approach to the film foregrounds this link between the environment and the bodies (and labor) of the women. Returning to ecofeminism also frames the ending of the film as hopeful – Ada spends one last night with Souleiman (as Issa) and finds closure, telling us in voiceover at the end of the film that she is “Ada, to whom the future belongs.” The possessed young women receive payment from N’Diaye, and Fanta’s mother follows a trail of bills to her room to find the young woman asleep with piles of cash surrounding her. Again, Atlantics demonstrates that migration is an environmental issue and a feminist issue. Ynestra King frames ecofeminism as “the practice of hope” which anticipates the future rather than focusing on vindication for the past, where “hope … is to believe that [the] future can be created by intentional human beings who now take responsibility [for it].”41 Through connecting with others and with the environment, change is possible. Ecofeminism is important for the way it both critiques current structures and offers hope for a better future through activism. In Atlantics, we see the costs of global capitalism and migration, but perhaps the focus on the young women who remain ultimately provides a hopeful ending through networks of solidarity. Notes 1 Ford, Rebecca. “She Knows What She Wants And Is Relentless,” 82. 2 Ibid., 82. 3 Ezra and Rowden, “General Introduction: What is Transnational Cinema?” 1. 4 McLaughlin, “Talking to Mati Diop, Whose Must-See Supernatural Film Has Made History.” 5 Zempléni, “From Illness to Trance,” 457. 6 Ibid., 457. 7 Ibid., 458. 8 Harding, “Meet the Cast of Atlantics.” 9 Zempléni, 459. 10 Ibid., 463. 11 Bourguignon, Possession, 8. 12 Cohen, “What is Spirit Possession?” 103. 13 Hynes, “Interview: Mati Diop.” 14 Enzerink, “Black Atlantic Currents.” 15 Ibid., 61. 16 Adair, “The Spirit of Migrancy,” 3–4. 17 Pisters, New Blood in Contemporary Cinema, 177. 18 Salleh, Ecofeminism, xi. 19 Turner, “In the Atmosphere,” 187. 20 Ibid., 188. 21 Adair, “The Spirit of Migrancy,” 6. 22 Galt, “The spirits of African cinema,” 100. 23 Hynes, “Interview: Mati Diop.” 24 Hynes, “Interview: Mati Diop.”

312  Chelsea Wessels 5 Hynes, “Interview: Mati Diop.” 2 26 Jones, “Mati Diop on Atlantics.” 27 Ibid., np. 28 Wong, Film Festivals, 2. 29 Cahen, “Mati Diop and Olivier Demangel” (translated). 30 Galt, “The spirits of African cinema,” 98. 31 Ibid., 98. 32 Boddy, “Spirit Possession Revisited,” 419. 33 Ibid., 416. 34 Jones, “Mati Diop on Atlantics.” 35 Galt, “The spirits of African cinema,” 104. 36 Sow, “Mythe ou réalité?” 13. 37 Galt, “The spirits of African cinema,” 104. 38 For example, Jude Dry’s November 2019 review on IndieWire. 39 Zempléni, 481. 40 Boddy, “Spirit Possession Revisited,” 416. 41 King cited in Lahar, “Ecofeminist Theory and Grassroots Politics,” 32.

References Adair, Gigi. “The Spirit of Migrancy: Mati Diop’s Atlantique.” Studies in 20th & 21st Century Literature 46, no. 1 (January 2022). https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.4148/ 2334-4415.2208. Boddy, Janice. “Spirit Possession Revisited: Beyond Instrumentality.” Annual Review of Anthropology 23 (October 1994), 407–434. http://www.jstor.org/stable/ 2156020. Bourguignon Erika. Possession. San Francisco, CA: Chandler & Sharp, 1976. Cahen, Ava. “Mati Diop et Olivier Demangel (Atlantique): l’écriture du scenario – episode 2.” FrenchMania. January 26, 2020. https://frenchmania.fr/mati-diopet-olivier-demangel-atlantique-lecriture-du-scenario-episode-2/. Cohen, Emma. What is Spirit Possession? Defining, Comparing, and Explaining Two Possession Forms.” Ethnos, 73, no. 1 (March 2008), 101–125. Dry, Jude. “’Atlantics’: How Mati Diop Turned Senegalese Folklore Into a Feminist Mood Piece.” IndieWire, November 29, 2019. https://www.indiewire.com/2019/11/ atlantics-netflix-mati-diop-feminist-gender-1202193087/. Ezra, Elizabeth and Terry Rowden. “General Introduction: What is Transnational Cinema?” In Transnational Cinema: The Film Reader edited by Elizabeth Ezra and Terry Rowden, 1–12. London: Routledge, 2006. Enzerink, Suzanne C. “Black Atlantic Currents: Mati Diop’s Atlantique and the Field of Transnational American Studies.” Journal of Transnational American Studies, 12, no. 1 (2021), 53–81. Retrieved from https://escholarship.org/uc/item/4k3816ts. Ford, Rebecca. “‘She Knows What She Wants And Is Relentless’: With her directorial debut Atlantics, Mati Diop is making history in Cannes as the first woman of African descent accepted into the competition lineup.” Hollywood Reporter, May 8, 2019, 82+. Gale General OneFile (accessed January 26, 2021). https://link.gale.com/apps/ doc/A587876055/ITOF?u=tel_a_etsul&sid=bookmark-ITOF&xid=2b66fe44. Galt, Rosalind. “The spirits of African cinema: redemptive aesthetics in Mati Diop’s Atlantics.” Movie: A Journal of Film Criticism 10 (2022), 97–105.

Faru Rab and the Transnational in Atlantics (2019)  313 Harding, Michael Oliver. “Meet the cast of Atlantics, Mati Diop’s ghostly love story.” Dazed. November 26, 2019. https://www.dazeddigital.com/film-tv/article/46939/1/ atlantics-cast-mati-diop-fatima-al-qadiri-interview. Hynes, Eric. “Interview: Mati Diop.” Film Comment. May 22, 2019. https://www. filmcomment.com/blog/cannes-interview-mati-diop/. Jones, Ellen E. “Mati Diop on Atlantics.” ScreenTalks Archive. Podcast audio. November 25, 2021. https://www.barbican.org.uk/read-watch-listen/screentalksarchive-mati-diop-on-atlantics. Lahar, Stephanie. “Ecofeminist Theory and Grassroots Politics.” Hypatia, 6/1 (Spring 1991), 28–45. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1527-2001.1991.tb00207.x. McLaughlin, Katherine. “Talking to Mati Diop, Whose Must-See Supernatural Film Has Made History.” Dazed. June 6, 2019. https://www.dazeddigital.com/film-tv/ article/44721/1/mati-diop-cannes-interview-grand-prix-atlantique. Pisters, Patricia.  New Blood in Contemporary Cinema: Women Directors and the Poetics of Horror. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2021. Salleh, Ariel. Ecofeminism, second edition. London & New York: Zed Books, 2014. Spillers, Hortense. “Mama’s Baby, Papa’s Maybe: an American Grammar Book.” Diacritics 17, no. 2 (1987), 64–81. Sow, Ibrahima, and Dominique Hado Zidouemba. “Faru Rab Et Coro Rab: Mythe Ou Réalité?” Thurday, 15 Décembre 2005, Amphitheatre De L’ebad, Université Cheikh Anta Diop De Dakar (UCAD). Roundtable discussion. Dakar: Publisher unknown, 2006. Turner, Lindsay. “In the Atmosphere: The Politics of Mati Diop’s Atlantics.” The Yale Review 108 (2022), 186–191. https://doi.org/10.1111/yrev.13647. Wong, Cindy Hing-Yuk. Film Festivals: Culture, People, and Power on the Global Screen. Piscataway: Rutgers University Press, 2011. Zempléni, András. “21 From Illness to Trance: The Socialization of Spirit Possession in Senegal” In Spirit Possession: Multidisciplinary Approaches to a Worldwide Phenomenon edited by Éva Pócs and András Zempléni, 455–486. Budapest: Central European University Press, 2022. https://doi.org/10.1515/9789633864142-023.

Index

Editor’s Note: Page numbers followed by “n” denote endnotes. Entries and page numbers in bold indicate a substantial discussion. Entries in italics refer to films unless otherwise indicated. Page numbers in italics refer to pictures, maps and/or illustrations. 1917 184, 188, 189, 195, 196–198, 200n28 Al Qadiri, Fatima 305 Alavi, Bozorg 286 Algonquian 10, 204, 207 Alip and Ikas 9, 165, 168–169, 171, 174–175 amok 3, 5, 6, 9, 125, 164–180; see also pengamok amulets 147, 148, 149, 151, 156, 161n9, 161n13 Anishinaabe 204, 210 Antlers 213 Arirang 30 Athan Namman Phi 9, 146, 154, 161n20 Atlantics 11, 299–313 Banabhatta 83, 89, 101n2, 101n3 bangsawan (traditional Malay opera or theatre) see Malay theatre Barrera, Francisco 225, 226; see also Reflexiones Historico Fisico Naturales Medico Quirurgicas Belot, Carlos 225, 229, 237, 238n2; see also Observaciones sobre los males que se experimentan en esta Isla de Cuba Beom Young Baek 24 binge-watching 248; 250, 258n43, 258n44, 258n45

Binong Jangreso (Binong the Orphan) 124, 134–135, 137 Blind Owl, The 11, 286, 291–292, 295, 296n15, 296n19 Book of Rites, The 36n22, 64 Book of Songs, The 64 Brahmavarta 87, 101n9 Brahmin 87, 90, 91, 92, 97, 100, 101n1 Būf-e Kūr see Blind Owl, The Cannes Film Festival 300 Captain Cook 164 Cha, Louis 70, 72, 77n20, 77n34, 77n35, 77n36; see also Legend of Condor Shooting Heroes, The cheerscrolling 252 child-witches 270–271, 277, 280n15; see also retaliatory rituals; zombification Chubak, Sadeq 286 Classic of Music 64 Collywood 11, 268, 273–278, 281n28; see also Nollywood Confucianism 28, 36n22, 64, 76; see also Book of Rites, The; samjongjido (the four fundamental virtues of a woman) Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon 67 Cuban hysteria 5, 6, 10, 224–242 cultural concept of digital distress see digital culture-bound syndrome cultural fear 113, 117; see also yakshi

316 Index cyberchondria 248, 250, 258n47, 258n48 cyberspace narcissism 252 Dakar 299, 300, 302–307, 309, 310 Daksa Smruti 89 dark magic see saiyasat Dark Was the Night 212 Darkness Calls 216; see also Sanderson, Steven Keewatin de Albuquerque, Afonso 91 de la Croix Sauvages, Boissier Francois 227, 228, 239n14, 239n15, 239n16; see also Nosologie Metodique de la Ossa, José Antonio 225, 232, 240n42; see also Espejos; Sobre el lujo; Sobre virtudes del bello sexo de las Casas, Luis 232; see also Papel Periódico de La Havana de Montaigne, Michel 205, 220n6 de Zequeira, Manuel 225, 234; see also Paseo de la Alameda Dek Kamphra Haeng Suang Sawan 9, 146, 152, 161n18 Delivered from the Powers of Darkness 269, 273, 280n9, 281n25; see also Eni, Emmanuel Descripción de un hermafrodita 228, 239n22 Devanabhatta 90 Devi (Goddess) 109, 114, 115 Dharma doctor see mo tham digital cultural syndrome see digital culture-bound syndrome digital culture-bound syndrome 5, 6, 10, 243–264 see also digital disease digital culture-specific disorder see digital culture-bound syndrome digital depression 10, 250, 252, 259n64; see also digital self-harm digital disease 247–249, 250, 254, 257n34, 257n35 digital filter dysmorphia 253; see also Snapchat dysmorphia; Zoom dysmorphia digital mental health 246, 257n28 digital Munchausen see digital self-harm digital self-harm 10, 250, 252, 255, 259n67, 259n69, 259n70 Diop, Djibril Mambety 300; see also Touki Bouki

Diop, Mati 11, 299–313; see also Atlantics; Diop, Djibril Mambety diviner 127, 132, 140 djinn see jinn don khong 5, 6, 9, 145–163 doomscrolling 10, 250, 252–253, 259n73; see also cheerscrolling doomsurfing see doomscrolling douchou atsuryoku (peer pressure) 40 ecofeminism 300, 303, 306, 311, 311n18 Ekong (societies) 275 Eni, Emmanuel 269, 273 Espejos 232, 233, 234, 240n35 ethereal woman 291–295 Famla’ah (societies) 269, 270, 275 faru rab 5, 6, 11, 12, 299–313 Farzad, Mas’ud 286 female ghost 8, 106–107, 111, 121, 154 Fessenden, Larry 212 Fight or love (anime) 52 Ganesha (Lord) 113; see also Hanuman (God) Garudapurana 89 Ginger Snaps Back 213 giri (duty) 39 golden dolls see kuman thong graphic novels 1, 9, 57n15, 184–191, 197, 199n3, 199n6, 199n12 guilt of surviving 9, 196–197 haji (shame) 39, 49 Haji Agha see Hājī Āqā Hājī Āqā 11, 286, 295, 297n35 Hamilton, Alexander 92 Hamzād 288, 293 Handa-kun (anime) 52 Haniff, Hussain 172, 173, 177n33 Hanjunglok 7, 22, 23 Hannibal 213 Hanuman (God) 113 Harshacharita 83, 101n2 Hawthorne, Nathanial 211, 221n26 healing rituals 132 Heartful days (anime) 52 Hedayat, Sadeq 11, 284–298; see also Blind Owl, The; Haji Agha; Pearl Cannon, The

Index  317 Hemphu 126–127; see also LongMukrang; Rang-Mukrang; Rasinja Hikayat Hang Tuah 169, 170, 177n25, 177n29 hikikomori 5, 6, 7, 39–61 Hikikomori Sensei 45, 46, 58n36 Historical Records, The 65, 67; see also Sima, Qian Hurt by your love (anime) 52 hwabyung 3, 6, 7, 19–38 hypervigilance 9, 184, 185, 188 I Can Speak 30 idiom of digital distress see digital culture-bound syndrome It was the War of the Trenches 184, 188, 198, 200n24 Jamālzādeh, Mohammad-Ali 286 jauhar 5, 6, 8, 83, 97–98, 101, 103n55, 103n59, 108 Jeolmeuniui Sijeol (The Time of the Youth) 27 jikoshuu kyofusho (anxiety of one’s body odour) 49 jinn 4, 5, 6, 11, 284–298; see also faru rab jinni see jinn; see also ethereal woman; Hamzād; Sāyeh Joseon Dynasty Chronicles 20, 22, 28, 36n25; see also Seonjo’s chronicle (king); Sukjong’s chronicle (king) Jukim, Maslin 170, 171, 178n43 Kadamattathu Kathanar 117 Kakimoto, Kensaku 58n51; see also Parasite in love Kalhana 90 Karbi (tribe) 5, 6, 8, 124, 125, 131 Khun Chang Khun Phaen 9, 146, 150 Kim Ji-young Born in 1982 30 Kim, Dongin 27; see also Yakhanjaui Seulpeum (The Sorrow of the Weak) King, Ynestra 311; see also ecofeminism kitsunetsuki (fox possession) 40, 56n2, 56n7; see also tanukitsuki (badger possession) Klay, Phil 184, 188, 200n26; see also Redeployment (novel)

Kuma Miko: Girl meets Bear (anime) 52–54, 58n54 kuman thong 148, 150, 157, 161n11 Kuroki, Tomoko 42 Kwanghae’s chronicle, King 28 land theft 10, 214, 218 Lata Mani 100 Leaving someone behind: The 9060 family (TV documentary) 44 Lee, Kwangsoo 27; see also Mujeong (Heartlessness) Legend of Condor Shooting Heroes, The 73, 77n36 Legend of Hang Tuah, The 169 Long-Mukrang 127 lover spirits see faru rab Lying to Mom 46 maha-sati stones 85, 101n5 Malay theatre 170 Malay warrior see pahlawan Malayalam horror 108–109, 117, 118, 122n8 Manichithrathazhu 120–121 mantras 88, 97, 117, 155; see also amulets; mo tham; Vedic mantras Masatake, Morita 49; see also taijin kyofusho Matinya Seorang Pahlawan (The Death of a Malay Warrior) 172 memory gap 9, 184, 191 Mendes, Sam 184, 188, 189, 200n28; see also 1917 mens rea 207, 208 Miaki, Sugaru 50, 60, 58n43; see also Parasite in Love mino-bimaddiziwin (Ojibwe philosophy) 204, 210, 215, 218 Minovi, Mojtaba 286 mo tham 155 Momi’s house 45, 58n33 Moon of the Crusted Snow 215, 222n42 Mujeong (Heartlessness) 27 mystical killings 268; see also retaliatory rituals Na, Dohyang 27; see also Jeolmeuniui Sijeol (The Time of the Youth) Nagavalli 120, 121 Nakahara, Misaki 42 Neyrangestān: Persian Folklore 11, 286, 295

318 Index nihu kachiri 5, 6, 8, 124–144 Nollywood 268, 273–278, 281n26, 281n27, 281n29 nomophobia 248, 250, 251, 255, 257n36, 258n57, 259n58 Nosologie Metodique 227; see also Reflexiones Historico Fisico Naturales Medico Quirurgicas Nyongo (societies) 269, 270, 275 Observaciones sobre los males que se experimentan en esta Isla de Cuba 229, 239n24 Oiwa, Kenji 42, 43, 56 Ojibwe 204, 208, 210, 215, 218, 220, 221n31; see also mino-bimaddiziwin Only Because You Are a Woman 30 Padmapurana 90 Padmini, Rani 98 pahlawan 169, 172, 177n35; see also Matinya Seorang Pahlawan Papel Periódico de La Havana 232 Parasite in Love 50, 58n43 Paseo de la Alameda 234–235, 240n44 Pearl Cannon, The 286, 295 pengamok 165, 169, 172–174 Pet Sematary 214 petimetras 10, 233, 234, 235 Poltergeist 214 Porte Ouverte, La 92, 93; see also Abraham, Roger post-traumatic growth 9, 184, 196–197 PTSD 5, 9, 183–185, 188, 190, 192, 199n7, 199n10, 200n42; see also guilt of surviving; hypervigilance; memory gap; post-traumatic growth; TBI; traumatic brain injury Pull Stay (video game) 47–48 Qigong: deviation 67; induced health disturbances 68; induced mental disorder see zou huo ru mo; master 67–68; psychosis 3, 67–68; way of 77n22, 77n24 Rab’eh 286 Radio Television Brunei 170 Ramayana 89, 112, 113 Rang Phra Ruang 9, 146, 151, 158, 161n17

Rang-Mukrang 127 Rasinja 127 Records of History: Biographies of Knights-errant 64 Red mansion, The 7; see also Xueqin, Cao Red River Rebellion 207 Redeployment (novel) 184, 188, 197, 200n26 Reflexiones Historico Fisico Naturales Medico Quirurgicas 226, 238n8 retaliatory rituals 268, 272 Retreat, The 212 Rigveda 101n11, 101n12 Roger, Abraham 92, 93 Romay, Tomás 225, 228, 235, 238n2, 239n20, 239n22, 240n43; see also Descripción de un hermafrodita Sado (prince) 22, 24, 32, 35n18; see also uidaejeung (fear of clothes) Saito, Tamaki 40; see also hikikomori saiyasat 146, 160n4 Samgukyusa 23 samjongjido (the four fundamental virtues of a woman) 28, 36n22 Sanderson, Steven Keewatin 216 Sati (Goddess) 85; see also Shiva (Lord) sati 5, 6, 8, 83–105; see also jauhar Satou, Tatsuhiro 42 Sāyeh 288 secret societies 268–270, 273, 275, 280n13; see also Ekong (societies); Famla’ah (societies); Nyongo (societies) sekimen kyofusho 49 selfie addiction 250, 253, 255; see also cyberspace narcissism Seonjo (king) 20, 21 Seonjo’s chronicle (king) 34n5 Sewolho 31 Shadow see Sāyeh shamanism 146, 147, 161n9; see also amulets; mantras; mo tham; Vedic mantras shell shock 185, 188, 199n10 Shining, The 214 shisen kyofusho 49, 50 Shiva (Lord) 85 Shizong (emperor) 68–70 signature wounds 5, 6, 9, 183–202; see also PTSD; suicide; TBI Silent voice, The 52

Index  319 Sima, Qian 65 sinsoseol 7, 25 Smith, Vincent 90 Snapchat dysmorphia 11, 253, 260n80 Sobre el lujo 232–233, 240n32, 240n42 Sobre virtudes del bello sexo 232, 234 social media platforms 75, 243, 247, 249, 252 Sonnerat, Pierre 91 Souji, Nito 47, 48, 56, 58n39; see also Pull Stay suicide: anti-suicide 216; attempt 26, 42, 192, 195; of a character 46; commit 3, 25, 51, 183, 209, 215, 218; horror of 174; ideation of 252; mass 8, 51; of parents 50; rates of 9, 185; ritualized practices of 8; sensitive topics 41; stories of 108; youth, First Nation 216; youth, global 247; youth, in Japan 51 Sukjong’s chronicle, King 28 Swift Runner (Kakisikutchin) 209 taboo 39, 46, 65, 127, 211 taijin kyofusho 3, 5, 6, 7, 39–61 taimen (honour) 39 Takimoto, Tatsuhiko 41, 43, 56, 56n8; see also Welcome to the N.H.K. tanukitsuki (badger possession) 40 Tardi, Jacques 184, 188, 198, 200n24; see also It was the War of the Trenches TBI 9, 183, 184–185, 189–190, 198, 200n29 Thiaroye massacre 304 Touki Bouki 300, 303 traumatic brain injury see TBI; see also suicide; tunnel vision tunnel vision 9, 183–202 Tūp-e Morvārī see Pearl Cannon, The uidaejeung (fear of clothes) 25 Uriarte, Maximilian 184, 192, 195, 197, 200n51; see also White Donkey: Terminal Lance, The

Vedic mantras 88, 97 Victoria Daily Times, The 208, 221n18 video game addiction 250, 251, 258n50, 258n51; see also Kuroki, Tomoko video games 43, 44, 47, 57n23, 203, 211, 212, 214, 247; see also Pull Stay voodoo death 3, 5, 6, 11, 267–283 war trauma 51, 183, 188 Watamote (anime) 42; see also Kuroki, Tomoko Welcome to the N.H.K. (anime) 41–43, 61, 56n8; see also Nakahara, Misaki; Satou, Tatsuhiro wendigo psychosis 5, 6, 10, 203–223 White Donkey: Terminal Lance, The 184, 192, 200n51 Windigo Tale, A 216 Xueqin, Cao 7 Yakhanjaui Seulpeum (The Sorrow of the Weak) 27 yakshi 5, 6, 106–123; see also female ghost; zombie Yap, Pow Meng 2, 243 Yeonsan (king) 22 Yong, Jin see Cha, Louis Yongzheng (emperor) 68–70, 71 Yoshimoto, Masume 52–54, 56; see also Kuma Miko: Girl meets Bear Zhang, Lu 7 Zhang’s Medical Book 7; see also Zhang Lu zombie: apocalypse 214; belief in 268– 270; economy 275; evolution of 280n10, 280n11; films with 221n28; girl 215; in capitalism 280n14; see also voodoo death; wendigo psychosis; zombification zombification 268–270, 272, 275 Zoom dysmorphia 11, 250, 253 Zoom fatigue 10, 250, 254, 260n86 zou huo ru mo 5, 6, 7–8, 62–79