Power, Persuasion, and Language: A Critique of the Segmentary Model in the Middle East

Author(s): Steven C. Caton

Reviewed work(s):
Source: International Journal of Middle East Studies, Vol. 19, No. 1 (Feb., 1987), pp. 77-101
Published by: Cambridge University Press
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/163028 .
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Int. J. Middle East Stud. 19 (1987), 77-102 Printed in the United States of America

Steven C. Caton

POWER, PERSUASION, AND LANGUAGE:

A CRITIQUE OF THE SEGMENTARY MODEL
IN THE MIDDLE EAST
INTRODUCTION

A famous definition of power reads:

In studyingpoliticalorganization,we have to deal with the maintenanceor establishment
of social order... by the organizedexerciseof coerciveauthoritythroughthe use, or the
possibilityof use, of physicalforce.'
In this article I will criticize this definition in relation to the study of segmentary
societies in the Middle East, by reviewing some of the justly celebrated ethnographies of tribal societies in this region. My intention is to demonstrate that
force is only one aspect of the total picture in which power must be viewed.
More specifically, I will argue that a concept of power as persuasion (and not
just physical compulsion) is needed in order to analyze certain ethnographic facts
contained in these works.
Not only is such a concept warranted for empirical reasons, but, as I
will argue, various theories in the light of which segmentary systems have
been cast would be greatly illuminated by an understanding of the way in
which power is exercised through persuasion. Two different theoretical approaches
are scrutinized: the functionalist model variously developed by Evans-Pritchard,
E. Peters, and Ernest Gellner;2and a structuralist accounting of the segmentary
lineage system, to be found in the recent work of Raymond Jamous on the
Berbers of Northern Morocco.3 In addition to the ethnographies on which these
theoretical approaches are based, I will also look at some data from Barth's
analysis of South Persian Nomads.4
In the last part of the article, ways in which this kind of power can be analyzed
will be discussed. Clearly, persuasion entails communication, and my claim is
that the form of this speaking is to be grasped, on the one hand, according to the
model of dialogue and on the other, according to a model of form illluminated
by poetics-in particular the theories of Roman Jakobsons and Kenneth Burke,6
which try to wrestle with the relationships among esthetics, language, and diverse
functions of communication.
There seems to be an increased awareness in political anthropology that
rhetoric, or oratory, is a neglected problem of study; witness, for example, the
relatively recent appearance of Bloch's edited volume of articles entitled Political
Language and Oratory in Traditional Society.7 Although the author finished this
article before he had a chance to read Said S. Samatar's intriguing book,8 it is
? 1987 Cambridge University Press 0020-7438/87

$5.00

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Steven C. Caton

clear that this work is founded on the same theoretical principle to be argued at
length here: "Speech is the vehicle of politics in so highly a segmented society as
the Somalis', and he who would lead others must persuade rather than coerce."9
What I hope to do in this article is to demonstrate that the theoretical model of
the segmentary tribal society must be changed if power as persuasion is to be
given its due, and, furthermore, that the Somali case is not isolated in the
ethnography of the region but exemplifies a more general phenomenon. In
addition, Samatar's book ably demonstrates the need to understand the instantiation of power in verbal discourse, a point that I will develop by looking at
other ethnographic cases. I will, though, go beyond Samatar by urging that the
analysis of power be placed at the intersection of sociolinguistics (or the
ethnography of communication'?) and political anthropology.
FUNCTIONALIST

ANALYSIS:

EVANS-PRITCHARD

AND ERNEST GELLNER

A comprehensive discussion of the contributions each theorist in the literature

has made to the functionalist model of the segmentary system is not possible
here. Discussion in this section will be limited to Evans-Pritchard and Gellner,
because their work bears most directly on our concerns with power and
persuasion, and reference to Emrys Peters's work will be made only in passing,
though his important criticism of the functionalist model of the segmentary
system will be taken up in the section on Jamous.
As portrayed by Evans-Pritchard, the Nuer seem to exemplify a society in a
Hobbesian State of Nature that has no "person to keep them all in awe"11 to
curb the conflict of individual wills. "When a man feels that he has suffered an
injury, there is no authority to whom he can make a complaint and from whom
he can obtain redress,"12because there is no central government, no Hobbesian
Autocrat, to formulate decisions and make people comply with them. When an
injustice has been committed against an individual, it is seen as a wrong
perpetrated against his kinsmen, who seek restitution by vigilante action-that
is, by taking matters into their own hands and using force (or threatening to use
force). This manner of solving disputes came to be known in the functionalist
model as the "principle of self-help."13
Clearly, in such a model a person or a group possesses power to the extent
that they can mobilize fighting men in defense of their interests (measured in
land, cattle, women, water, and so forth). This power qua force is propagated in
the feud.
The Explanation and Importance of the Feud: Force and Mediation
In Evans-Pritchard's functionalist model, feuding is viewed as an "institution"
whose sociological function is to maintain the "balanced opposition" of tribal
segments and hence preserve social order. Let us review the basic concepts of the
segmentary system to understand this point.
Social groups are organized in such a manner that they unite (or "fuse,"
according to the functionalist terminology) under certain circumstances, such as
the threat of external aggression, to form more inclusive groups (for example,

A Critique of the Segmentary Model in the Middle East

79

sections of a tribe fuse to form a tribe); alternatively, they divide (undergo

"fission") under different circumstances, such as seasonal migrations, to form a
multitude of exclusive groups (sections of a tribe splitting up into subsections).
Thus, at the highest level of the system, the Nuer constitute one block in
opposition to their traditional enemies the Dinka, another East African people,
but on the next lower level and in different contexts are internally differentiated
into "primarysections," and so forth down the hierarchical ladder until the lowest
rung of the individual household is reached.
Paradoxically, the feud is a mechanism for the maintenance of order in an
"anarchic"environment. That is, order is understood as solidarity or unity of the
group and is achieved mainly in opposition to another group in the system-an
opposition expressed through violence, or the feud. In Evans-Pritchard's ethnography, the opposition of groups at the highest level of the system-between the
Nuer and Dinka-is played out in pitch-battles wherein adult males are often
killed and women and cattle are captured. However, the lower the level of the
system on which groups are opposed to each other, the less violent the feud, so
that intratribal segments may be hostile to each other but will never go to war.
When we get to the level of the individual household, payment of compensation
and other peaceful means of settling disputes are in evidence. Peters was able to
make this correlation between structural groups and violence more precise for
the Bedouin of Cyrenaica.14
How would one explain the fact that at the lower levels of the system the
violence by which the feud is propagated becomes less intense? Evans-Pritchard
gives two different answers to this question. The first, which appeared in his
book The Nuer,'5 is based on utilitarian arguments. On the lower levels of the
system, groups are more dependent on each other for essential social and
economic services (such as cooperation in herding and farming, participation in
rituals, and so forth), and therefore cannot afford to disrupt their social relations
without imperiling the existence of these services. The second, more interesting
explanation appears in an article Evans-Pritchard wrote for the book African
Political Systems:
Withina tribethereis law:thereis machineryfor settlingdisputesand a moralobligation
to conclude them sooner or later....

Between tribe and tribe there is no means of

bringing together the parties to a dispute and compensation is neither offered nor
demanded.

This passage has a decidedly Durkheimian ring to it. The tribe is defined as a
moral community whose members are obligated not only to fight in defense of
the group against outside aggression, but also to mediate disputes among
themselves. The utilitarian argument gives way to a symbolic/moral one-that
is, it is part of the definition of the Nuer tribesman that he mediate disputes
peacefully with other Nuer tribesmen.
Whichever explanation we choose, the basic point remains the same. There is
more to understanding the concept of the feud in the functionalist model than
mere force:
The balancedopposition between tribal segmentsand their complementarytendencies
towardsfissionand fusion, which we have seen to be a structuralprinciple,is evidentin

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Steven C. Caton

the institutionof the feud which, on the one hand, gives expressionto the hostility by
occasional and violent action that serves to keep the sections apart, and, on the other
hand, by the means providedfor settlement, prevents opposition developing into complete
fission. The tribal constitution requires both elements of a feud, the needfor vengeance
and the means for settlement. [italics added]'7

We are told that a feud is not merely the exercise of force in war, raiding, bloodvengeance, and an old-fashioned fist fight. It is also waged through peaceful
means of settling disputes-in other words, mediation. One could alternatively
say that the process of mediating disputes is a peaceful way of continuing the
feud and thereby avoiding the bloodier consequences of armed conflict. This
means that mediation, in effect, can resolve disputes only temporarily; it puts the
brakes on conflicts as they threaten to careen wildly out of control, but it cannot
ever completely stop them. They may lie dormant for years until an incident
suddenly causes them to erupt again. As Peters has remarked with Aeschylean
fatality, "The feud knows no beginning, and it has no end."'8
Power, the Mediation Process, and Language
Whereas Evans-Pritchard defines power in terms of force, Gellner affirms that
his book is about power and belief, defining the former as "the manner in which
[society] controls its members."'9 Perhaps the vagueness of the definition is
intentional, leaving the reader to determine whether the manner in question is
force and/or something else. It appears, when one examines the text, that
Gellner views power essentially in terms of force, even though his obvious
concern with mediation suggests that this definition is insufficient. For example,
one way in which the Central High Atlas Berbers resemble the Nuer is in not
having powerful chiefs who oversee the various tribal sections and subsections,
or so Gellner claims.20The reasons for their relative impotence must be sought in
the way in which the chieftaincy is rotated among the eligible groups and the
way in which the chiefs are elected, both processes insuring that no Hobbesian
Autocrat will rise from their ranks. Gellner then makes this telling remark:
"Within the rules of the game, he [the chief] cannot aspire to becoming a tyrant,
to usurping permanent and real power" (italics added).21What exactly is meant
by "real" power? In the context of the discussion, it can be presumed that
Gellner is talking about force, since tyrannical power would be founded on
coercion.
To the extent, however, that mediation is important in the functionalist model,
it stands to reason that any definition referring solely to force is inadequate.
Mediation implies "controlling" society's members through persuasion; hence
persuasion, and not the exercise of force, becomes the basis of power.
This point can be demonstrated by internal analysis of the Nuer and Central
Atlas Berber ethnographies. We are told, for instance, that the Nuer "leopardskin chief" is "concerned with the settlement of blood-feuds, for a feud cannot
be settled without his intervention, and his political significance lies in this
fact."22 His authority is surrounded by a sacred aura, for he is a ritual expert
whose powers to curse people can be, and occasionally are, used to sanction

A Critique of the Segmentary Model in the Middle East

81

mediated settlements. (This is a symbolic force, not a physical one, and the
distinction is crucial for the argument.) However, he is not an incipient autocrat.
Apart from his peculiar ritual status, he is thought to be an effective mediator
because he stands outside the system of structural relations encompassing the
disputants and therefore can be trusted.
The Nuer adamantly resist coercive authority and it is not surprising to find
that the leopard-skin chief lacks any "real" power in the sense that the functionalist model entails:
He has no means of compellingpeople to pay or to accept blood-cattle. He has no
powerfulkinsmenor the backingof a populouscommunityto supporthim. He is simply
a mediator in a specific social situation and his mediationis only successfulbecause
communityties are acknowledgedby both partiesand becausethey wish to avoid, for the
time being at any rate, further hostilities.... It is true that a leopard-skinchief has
always in these circumstancesto persuade,by exhortationsand threats,the kinsmenof
the dead man to accept compensation, but this pressure must not be regarded as a

command.It is quite clear from many Nuer statementson the matterthat the chief's
threatsare encouragedto their furthestpoint in orderthat by yieldingto his persuasion
the kinsmenof the dead man may not dishonourthemselvesto exact a life for the life of
theirkinsman.[italicsadded]23
Persuasion is the key term in the above passage. The leopard-skin chief has
power insofar as he can persuade the disputants to resolve their differences
peacefully and to agree to his judgment.
Just as the Nuer mediators, in the guise of the leopard-skin chiefs, are sacred
personages, so are the mediators of Berber disputes in the Central High Atlasthe descendants of a famous saint whose blessing (baraka) is passed down to
them and is potent in curing sickness, providing mystical insight into religious
knowledge, and helping to mediate between rebellious tribesmen who fear the
power of their curse. These igurramen in the Atlas build their lodges around the
sacred shrine of the saint, which in turn is located, not surprisingly, on tribal
boundaries, a space that is liminal, ambiguous, dangerous, and always fraught
with potential turmoil since tribal boundaries are frequently the subject of
acrimonious disputes. The igurramen are ideologically pledged to a peaceful
existence, so their occupation of the boundary space is charged with symbolic
significance. Upon entering their sacred precinct, the tribes must fight their
battles with the word, not the gun.
The function of the saints-or rather of their descendants, according to
Gellner-is to maintain some semblance of order in what he describes as an
anarchic environment of "feud-addicted" tribes. Specifically, they act as
mediators in the negotiations among Berber tribesmen for the election of a new
chief. In line with their ideological image as peacemakers, they may not threaten
force to compel tribesmen to accept the choice of the tribal council. Only in the
last resort may they, like the Nuer leopard-skin chief, pronounce a curse on
recalcitrant tribesmen (which again is symbolic force). Otherwise, they rely on
the power of persuasion:

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Steven C. Caton

In these negotiations, mediation, persuasion and pressure by the saints plays an essential
role (as it does in the settling of inter-group disputes and in legal cases).... Thus the
necessity of the igurramen is manifest: it is they who, as benevolent hosts and outsiders to
the fissions of the tribe, smooth over the election and persuade reluctant electors to accept
the emergent trend. [italics added]24
But is this a type of power that the segmentary model, as Gellner defines it,
would recognize as such? Certainly not, if power is understood as the actual or
threatened use of force, for persuasion operates in lieu of force.
To understand thoroughly the mediation process and the exercise of power in
it through persuasion, we must carry out a symbolic analysis of action: what is
said in the discourse between disputants on the one hand, and the disputants and
mediators on the other? By what kinds of metaphors, images, and value-laden
terms, as well as nonverbal signs, do speakers hope to be persuasive for their
audiences? Because we rarely hear persons speak in the ethnographies, we can
therefore only give partial answers to these questions.
The reason that Evans-Pritchard never inscribed the "said" of discourse is that
he never actually observed a dispute mediation carried out by the leopard-skin
chief. His descriptions are all garnered from informant testimony:
I was told that a man who has a cow stolen may ask a leopard-skin chief to go with him
to request the return of the cow .... The owner of the animal gives his view and the man
who has stolen it attempts to justify his action. Then the chief, and anybody else who
wishes to do so, expresses an opinion on the question. When everyone has had his say the
chief and elders withdraw to discuss the matter among themselves and to agree upon the
decision....
It was clear from the way in which my informants described the whole
procedure that the chief gave his final decision as an opinion couched in persuasive
language and not as a judgment delivered with authority. Moreover, whilst the sacredness
of the chief and the influence of the elders carry weight, the verdict is only accepted
because both parties agree to it. No discussion can be held unless both parties want the
dispute settled and are prepared to compromise and submit to arbitration. ... If there is
any doubt about the facts, certain oaths, which are in the nature of ordeals, may be
employed, such as swearing statements on the chief's leopard skin.
For a dispute to be settled in this way not only is it necessary that both parties should
want the matter amicably settled, but it is also necessary that they should themselves
reach agreement during the decision, and indeed, a decision cannot be reached unless
there is unanimity, since the elders are of both parties to the dispute. They go on talking,
therefore, till every one has had his say and a consensus is reached. [italics added]25
I cite this passage at such length because it underscores several important points.
First of all, it reiterates that the leopard-skin chief cannot command disputants
to accept a judgment-he
may only persuade them. It is unfortunate that when
Evans-Pritchard was told that the chief's final decision was "couched in persuasive language," he was unable to elicit the discourse.
The above passage also reveals a pattern or set of procedures followed by the
participants in the mediation that we willfind recurring in descriptions of similar
processes from other tribal societies. Thus, not only does each opponent have a
chance to air his grievances and justifications, but even members of the audience
and distinguished elders may express their views on the case. As a result of this
canvassing of opinions across the community, a consensus is reached, which the

A Critique of the Segmentary Model in the Middle East

83

leopard-skin chief must have the insight to grasp in the discussions. But this
consensus is not handed down to the disputants on engraved tablets of stonethey may reject it, unless the chief can persuade them to do otherwise. In other
words, the mediators bend over backwards to respect the political autonomy of
the actors, who always have the right to back out of the agreements if they feel
their honor is being compromised.
Although Gellner does give us a detailed and quite interesting analysis of the
collective oath, he does not tell us much about the verbal ways in which
igurramen are persuasive. While saints may be asked to intercede in a number of
different tribal matters, one of their most'important tasks is to oversee the
election of tribal chiefs:
The discussionsand negotiationsconstitutingthe election or its preliminariesmay of
coursehavegone on for days:the electionstake placeduringthe periodwhenthe tribe,or
otherlargerepresentativepartof it, assemblesat the zawiya,the villageof the igurramen,
sometimesfor as long as eightdays.
Thus the necessityfor igurramenis manifest:it is they who, as benevolenthosts and
outsidersto the fissions of the tribe, smooth over the election and persuadereluctant
electorsto acceptthe emergenttrend.26
They are also often called in to help arbitrate disputes:
The igurramenare thereas the court of appealwhenthe settlementfails at the level of the
chief.... Moreover,if it comes to trial by collectiveoath, all importantmatters,those
requiringten or more co-jurors,automaticallygo up to be sworn at the shrine of the
igurramen.27
While the saints' intent is to ascertain the "emergent trend" in the negotiations
leading up to the election of the chief, or to hear all parties in the dispute in
order to grasp the general opinion on the case, they, like the Nuer leopard-skin
chief, must work through a consensus, to be reached only through lengthy bouts
of discussion. It is also clear that once a consensus is expressed, the saints
"cannot enforce their verdicts, but depend on the acceptance of that verdict by
the tribesmen."28It would be nice to know how they persuade the tribesmen to
accept the decision.
In summary, we have seen how the concept of power as force, or the
threatened use of force, is intrinsic to the functionalist's model of the segmentary
system. Specifically, this power is tied to the principle of "self-help" in a system
where there is no ruler or governmental agency to keep the conflict of individual
wills in check, and in which a person has no recourse for reclaiming his rights
except through the feud. In my analysis of the feud, I have emphasized that
functionalists such as Evans-Pritchard and Gellner view the exercise of force and
the practice of mediation as being interconnected, indissociable processes.
Furthermore, it was noted that the Nuer notion of the tribe is understood as a
moral community obligated to mediate its internal differences and to fight to
preserve its corporate interests when these are threatened. Both the concept of
the feud and that of the tribe, then, require that the model focus on mediation as
an important political process. Having brought out the significance of mediation,
I then argued that one needs another concept of power in the functionalist

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Steven C. Caton

model-namely, the power of persuasion. In the textual analysis of Nuer and

Berber mediation processes we saw how the leopard-skin chief and the saintly
igurramen may not command the disputants to accept the decision arrived at by
consensus, but must persuade them. Unfortunately, what precisely is said and
done by the mediators in accomplishing this task is quite obscure in both
ethnographies. Without such data we will never understand how power is
exercised over men in dispute mediations.
BARTHIAN ANALYSES OF TRIBAL SOCIETIES IN THE MIDDLE EAST

It is well known that Frederik Barth29challenged the theory of segmentary

lineage systems in his celebrated studies of political organization among the Swat
Pathans of West Pakistan.30He has been taken to task for his analysis by several
writers,31but it is not my intention here to review his arguments, the criticisms
raised against them, or his subsequent defense.32 I have chosen instead to
concentrate on a less famous, though equally important, example of Barthian
analysis-that is, his study of the Basseri Nomads of South Persia.
What is the Basis of the Headman's Power in the Basseri Herding Camp?
The Basseri camp has at least one headman or leader. In his analysis of camp
politics, Barth asks the fundamental question: What is the source of the camp
leader's power? For the sake of brevity, let me summarize Barth's answer to this
question. The headman is unlikely to obtain much support from a "central"
authority such as the Basseri tribal chief.33 Wealth34and military coercion35 are
not considered by Barth to be instrumental to the headman's power, which
leaves Barth, by a process of elimination, with kinship, and, specifically, with
affinal ties.36Let us, therefore, focus on this aspect of his argument.
There are reasons to doubt that patrilineal kinship is an effective means by
which a headman can spread his authority over camp followers. For one thing,
"the genealogical knowledge that is necessary to make such an extension effective
is poorly developed,"37and for another, it turns out that in spite of the "ideal" of
solidarity that is projected on patrikin, lineal cohesion is greater than lateral
ties.38
Other than mentioning the fact that bonds of solidarity exist between men
who are "matrikin"(e.g., MBr and SiSo), Barth does not analyze the significance
of such relations for the headman's power, so there is little we can do to evaluate
its importance. But he is far less equivocal when he turns to affinal relations,
which he claims "appear to be most effective in establishing political bonds
between tents."39
Barth analyzes the system of relationships in one herding camp to support his
argument that affinal ties are crucial to a camp leader's power, yet the evidence is
ambiguous, to say the least. Figure 1 shows a modified chart of some herding
units belonging to a camp in question, taken from Barth's Figure 10.40
The test of affinal relationships came in a critical situation, a falling-out
among camp members over pasturage. The cleavages are predictable according

A Critique of the Segmentary Model in the Middle East

85

o=A
5

A"

A
..9

6-=
4

6=
$=:

=A

10

L.

I................A

FIGURE 1. A Basseri camp. Key individuals vying for power are (1), who is the headman; (10); and
(5). (10) has allied himself to (2)'s group by affinal relations. The headman has allied himself to (3) by
affinal relations.

to Barth's hypothesis; that is, (2) and his sons supported (10), whereas (3)
supported (1).
Now let us consider the opposition of (5) to (l)'s leadership, for in this case the
importance of affinal ties in group alliances seems less clear-cut. Herding unit (5)
is related to (9) through two affinal ties: the wife of (5) is one of (9)'s cousins and
(5)'s daughter is betrothed to (9)'s brother. One would predict that (5) and (9)
would be allies in a dispute with (1) over leadership, according to Barth's
hypothesis, but is this in fact what happened?
At some point (5) challenged the headman's leadership by defecting from the
camp, hoping to take with him (9)'s group. Instead, "when No. 5 defected from
the tribe to spend the summer in the Arab sarhad near Fassa, he failed in spite of
all his efforts to carry others from the camp with him, and had to separate his
flock from the larger herd of his herding unit and leave by himself."41
The evidence then is ambiguous. Affinal relations may to some extent be
important in acquiring a camp following but they cannot be determinant. Is it
possible, then, that there is an additional source for a headman's powernamely, what we have been calling persuasion? To attempt an answer to this
question we must carefully examine the decision-making process in the Basseri
herding camp.
Persuasion and the Power of the Camp Headman
Barth has a tendency to view the decision-making process as being divisive:
Everyday the membersof the camp must agreein theirdecisionon the vital questionof
whetherto move on, or to stay camped,and if they move, by which route and how far
they should move. These decisionsare the very stuff of a pastoralnomadexistence;they
spellthe differencebetweengrowthand prosperityof the herds,or loss and poverty.42
A curious paradox exists in Barth's view of this decision-making process. On the
one hand, he perceives the herders' participation as an expression and continuation of their sense of common "groupness":"a camp community of nomads can
only persist through continuous reaffirmation by all its members."43On the other

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Steven C. Caton

hand, a process that is supposedly so essential to the group's survival "every day
retests the cohesion of the group."44 Why does Barth view the decision-making
process in divisive terms?
Although Barth does not explicitly say so, primarily because he seems to be
defining power strictly as the use or threatened use of force, it seems clear that
the headman relies on the power of persuasion to achieve a unanimous agreement
in this process. That Barth has at least an implicit understanding of this point
can be demonstrated by several quotations from the text:
The camp leader is dependent on his ability to influence camp members, to guide and
formulate public opinion in the group.
The camp leader depends on influence for his position of leadership, and to prevent the
fragmentation of his camp he is continually concerned to achieve unanimity, without
access to coercive means.45
To analyze persuasion one must examine a society's political rhetoric-that
is,
the use of verbal and nonverbal signs by leaders, their opponents, and audiences
in public events of communication. It behooves us, then, to take a long and close
look at the decision-making process in camp assemblies.
When Barth tries his hand at analyzing the verbal agon of these camp
discussions, he appears to be at a loss to understand it. It is worth quoting his
description in full:
Though most speakers seek to reveal the trend of their preference, they always retain
counter-arguments in their statements. The opinions of other persons seem to be
evaluated by their differential response to the first speaker's various arguments implying
the different alternatives, and not necessarily by the conclusion implied by the balance of
opinions expressed by them. In such fashion no person ends up having clearly committed
himself to what may turn out to be a minority opinion; his own statements have
consistently contained arguments both for and against, and their relative weight has never
been fully revealed. Lack of agreement is revealed by continued conversation around the
subject, never flat contradiction. And the "arguments" presented in such conversations
need not be factors of real relevance to the decision, but are often just convenient ways in
which one or another decision may be implied. Not only does the frustrated anthropologist
remain in the dark whether he will have to pack his stuff and move on next morning; he
cannot even learn about herding and nomadic life from these hour-long discussions, when
points which are bandied about and emphasized by all turn out to be without substantive
relevance to the problem. A gross example is the frequent argument heard in such
discussions that there is no water available ahead, and so it is difficult to move on next
morning. My naive questions the first time I heard this, of how this might improve during
the next few days, or else how we would [sic] ever be able to proceed, were dismissed by
all as irrelevant and irritated rather than embarrassed the speakers.46
Barth's interpretation of the agon is essentially utilitarian: it is meant to lead to a
decision, one that after all, we are told, is vital to the survival of the herd and
thus to the camp's well-being. Yet the means by which the decision is reached, if
it is reached, are decidedly irrational and therefore, the argument continues, they
must serve additional, though noninstrumental purposes. These aims are cast in
a negative light. For example, if speakers never simply present their own opinion

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87

or directly argue against or contradict another speaker's view of the problem, but
always try to incorporate the plethora of proposals in their public statements,
then Barth gives these ways of speaking a negative interpretation-that is, as
strategies for saving face: "In such fashion no person ends up having clearly
committed himself to what may turn out to be a minority opinion." This attitude
explains his setting arguments within quotation marks in the above passage, for
the debate does not proceed in an orderly manner whereby the issues are clearly
outlined, the solutions criticized and evaluated, and a final decision reached. It is
revealing that the one time Barth attempted to join the discussion, interjecting
the cold, clear light of European rationalism into what seemed to be confused
proceedings, he was peremptorily told that his point was irrelevant. Clearly, his
Basseri companions were right, because he tended to view the discussion
essentially in utilitarian terms.
There are other, more symbolic interpretations of this important communicative event. Take, for example, the conversational form of Basseri debate:
"Though most speakers seek to reveal the trend of their preference, they always
retain counter-arguments in their statements."47By referring to other arguments
made in the debate, the speaker could be alluding to and respecting the
autonomy of the other actors. By mentioning his opinion in the same breath that
he repeats the arguments made by others, he may be symbolically asserting that
all individuals are equal, that no one's opinion counts more than that of another.
It would appear that the purpose of these hour-long discussions is not only or
necessarily one of arriving at a decision instrumentally important to the group's
survival, but also it is a symbolic expression of personal autonomy, wherein each
person attending the tribal meeting has the opportunity to voice his own
opinion.
There is not enough careful description of this communicative event in Barth's
ethnography to ascertain the headman's participation in it, but presumably he
must at least outwardly respect the right of everyone to voice his opinion, while
all the time steering the discussion toward a group consensus. It is, after all, by
consensus that the headman rules. This still places him squarely within the arena
of political rhetoric, and one would expect that oratory would be one of the
important skills that a camp leader cultivates. Barth does not seem to understand
this point; he certainly does not consider it in his analysis of the headman's
power. Because he views the camp discussions with a jaundiced eye, he cannot
begin to consider the possibility that the power of the headman may be
instantiated in them through persuasive forms of speaking, and instead lookswhen all else fails-at the kinship system for the source of his power. We have
already seen, however, that this analysis is not very convincing in that the cases
he cites are open to ambiguous interpretation. We might well ask, then, why a
new approach to understanding power as persuasion in the symbolic form of
rhetoric is not attempted.
As another example of an analysis of leadership that purports to be influenced
by a Barthian perspective of man maximizing his "assets and options,"48 let us
briefly turn to William Lancaster's wonderfully rich ethnography, The Rwala
Bedouin Today.

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As Lancaster makes abundantly clear in his analyses of child socialization,

economic choices, social organization, and domestic relations, a fundamental
value of Rwala social action is autonomy:
This emphasison autonomystartsat an extraordinarilyearly age; no baby is put to the
breastuntil it yells; a one-yearold is expectedto feed itself from the communaldish and
no one will botherto see that it gets enough-it is up to the childitself.49
The issue of individualismin Bedu society is frequentlymisunderstood,... but that
individualismis realis fundamentalto the Rwalaversionof the segmentarysystem.50
Camelshave the greatadvantagethat it is possibleto subsiston them for long periodsof
time with little or no referenceto any outsidebody.51
Each autonomousindividualis entitledto his/her opinion but modifiesit for the good of
the group.If they won't,theycan alwaysleave.52
Given the importance of this value to an understanding of the cultural system,
one would expect it to be crucial also in the analysis of politics. And to his
credit, Lancaster fully realizes that such an analysis logically entails an examination of the sheikh's power to influence others:
In a systemwhereeveryman is equallyfree to follow his own bent and wherethereis no
mechanismfor coercion,the only politicalpower availableis the abilityto influencethe
decisionof others.53
At its crudestthe sheikh has no authorityto treat on the tribe'sbehalf, for there is no
legalframeworknor coerciveforce availableto him. All the sheikhcan do is representthe
tribe and bank on knowingwhat the tribe want in any particularcircumstance.He then
has to persuade the tribe to accept the results of his negotiation. [italics added]54

Whereas Lancaster is insightful enough to realize that the sheikh's power

cannot ultimately reside in his wealth or his use of coercive force but must be
explained by his persuasiveness, he does not make the crucial analytical connection between this persuasiveness

and rhetorical events of communication.

No

transcripts of actual dialogue are given, no examples of a sheikh's eloquence are

heard. At best, we are given (on p. 88 of his ethnography) a description of the
way in which a sheikh mediated the discussion of a party of smugglers on what
to do about guards on the Jordanian border. In order to assure personal
autonomy, each member of the sheikh's party, including even the anthropologist,
was allowed to speak and voice his opinion, regardless of experience or vested
interest. The sheikh then forged a consensus and persuaded his audience to
accept it. What have we here except another instance of a verbal rhetorical
process so essential to the segmentary societies in the Middle East?55
JAMOUS'S

STRUCTURALIST

ANALYSIS

OF NORTH MOROCCAN

BERBERS

At this juncture in my overview of the segmentary lineage model I will

consider Peters's56criticisms of it. Why it is more appropriate to bring up his
work in discussing Jamous's analysis than in discussing the theories of EvansPritchard and Gellner will become clear shortly.

A Critique of the Segmentary Model in the Middle East

89

The gist of Peters's criticism seems to be that the functionalist model is, in
actuality, a native "folk theory" of social action rather than a scientific, sociological one. It has been pointed out that the merit of Peters's criticism lies in
distinguishing between the two types, whereas previous work tended to merge
the two into one undifferentiated whole.57 The point is certainly well taken,
though it begs a fundamental question that Jamous addresses-namely, what
does the analyst do with the native model? We cannot see that Peters does very
much with it at all, for his scheme leaves us with a set of "objective" material
components such as land, food resources, water, etc., and a (Western) assumption
that comes very close to Barth's own of the native "maximizing" his assets by
manipulating, among other things, the native ideology. Unfortunately, there is
not enough space here to give a close reading of Peters's texts, but they reveal, in
my opinion, a closer relationship with a Barthian model than either may wish to
acknowledge or than other theoreticians, to my knowledge, have heretofore
suspected of being the case.
My position in this article is that the indigenous model should be given far
more emphasis in explaining social action than Peters is apparently willing to
grant it. That is to say, when one examines the ethnographic record to determine
what it is that Middle Eastern tribesmen are doing in political acts, one finds that
they are talking to each other probably more than they are fighting, and that this
has to be explained by a native model of the person as an autonomous actor in
an egalitarian society, with the consequent or attendant belief that the basis of
power is persuasion rather than the exercise of force.
However, in an important sense, Peters's criticism of the segmentary lineage
system has cleared the way for an anthropologist such as Jamous to, in fact,
reanalyze the system as an explicitly native or ideological model of social
organization. I say "reanalyze" because Jamous has had to lay bare the totality
and internal structuring of that ideology, which was obscure in the functionalist
work of ethnographers in the Moroccan context. Similarly, and antedating
Jamous, Michael Meeker58 has also analyzed the lineage system as a cultural
model in terms of which he argues that social actions (such as the feud, marriage,
and so forth) are structured. In other words, Peters's criticism represents an
important moment in the emergence of a developing "cultural"interpretation of
the segmentary lineage system, and this article is intended as a contribution to
that developing model insofar as it treats of ideological constructs (autonomy
and egalitarianism) and political action (persuasion), which have been neglected
by Jamous, Meeker, and others.
No less important for understanding the twists and turns in the development
of a "cultural" model of the segmentary lineage system is the critique of
functionalism, particularly of Gellner's variety,59that has developed in Moroccan
ethnography. On one level, this critique has argued that Gellner's notion of
social organization is too narrowly concerned with the corporate group, when
the ethnographic facts suggest that a notion of person-centered networks of
political alliances may be more germane to Morocco and perhaps to other
Middle Eastern settings as well. In all fairness to Gellner, this ethnography is
based on urban rather than tribal societies; nevertheless, the suggestion might be

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Steven C. Caton

put forward that even tribal societies are not so neatly analyzed in terms of
group categories. At least the question should be posed. To avoid misunderstanding one has to bear in mind that this argument of person-centered social
organization goes hand in hand with a cultural interpretation of reality. Failure
to understand this point might lead one to conclude that there is little difference
between Barth and, say, Geertz in the way they conceive of individuals as being
at the hub of social relations. Barth imports a Western notion of the individual
into his analysis of Swat society,60 whereas Geertz, as well as Eickelman and
Rosen, insist that this is a Moroccan category that must be fleshed out by local
systems of meaning.61In Moroccan Islam, especially Chapter 5, "Impermanence
and Inequality: The Common-Sense Understanding of the Social Order,"
Eickelman explicitly attempts to grasp the reality assumptions on the basis of
which Moroccans construct relations with each other, an interpretive account
that has since been further developed by others.62 Therefore, what we find in
Jamous's work is a structuralist model that owes a great deal not only to Peters's
criticisms but also to those of various cultural anthropologists concerned with
systems of symbols and their meanings in Moroccan society.
To help us keep our bearings in the discussion of Jamous's analysis, let me
repeat a quotation of L. Dumont that is cited in the introduction.
c'est-h-direa
La theorie politiquepersistea s'identifieravec une th6oriedu <(pouvoir>,
prendreun problememineur pour le problemefondamental,lequel se trouve dans la
et les valeursou l'ideologie.63
relationentrele <(pouvoir>
For Jamous one of the key problems of the analysis is to illuminate the
relationship of power as exhibited in the careers of the amghar, or "big men," to
the value of honor in Berber society. He thus rests his analysis of action on
symbolic values rather than on functionalist, utilitarian self-interest. What I will
suggest is that this relationship implies perhaps a more subtle understanding of
power than mere force-namely, persuasion. In other words, I will show how the
theoretical approach Jamous takes from Louis Dumont leads us to new avenues
of inquiry beyond what Jamous has foreseen.
The Concept of Honor
Honor (r'ird in Berber) is rather vaguely defined as "cette vertu, cette <force>>,
cette qualite, cette valeur attachee a un groupe ou a un individu particulier. II est
une <<substance>>
que l'on ne peut saisir en elle-meme, mais seulement apprehender
par ses signes exterieurs."64Jamous claims that these signs are to be found on
two levels-possession and control over certain social domains on the one hand,
and participation in exchanges of violence on the other.
An honorable person among the Berber Iqar'iyen is one who, for example,
possesses land that, if he is to retain his honor, he must resolutely defend against
any encroachment by enemies. The segmentary system, therefore, is understood
in relation to the honor that is attached to the possession and protection of land:
a tribe identifies its honor by ownership and defense of a territory against the
encroachment of other tribes; a section of a tribe is endowed with honor insofar

A Critique of the Segmentary Model in the Middle East

91

as it jealously guards against the possible takeover by rival sections; and so forth,
down to the patrilineage and the individual household, each with its identification
with plots of land. Thus, it is not simple economic self-interest that motivates the
Berber tribesman to guard his territory; what he is protecting is above all its
symbolic value.
Another domain that the Berber protects and controls is the woman and the
household. A man's honor depends on the sexual propriety of the woman's
conduct, which, for various reasons, she is not thought capable of managing
herself. Hence, there is expressed the need for external controls imposed on her
to avoid a scandal, controls that protect a symbolic value--a man's honor.
Apart from control over certain social domains, honor is also signified by
what Jamous calls "exchanges of violence." We are not talking here of "brute
force" necessarily, but of symbolically interpreted aggression manifested in
murder, oratorical bouts, and ostentatious displays of expenditure (which will
not be considered in this discussion). Murder is more than brute force. Jamous
reveals that there is a definite symbolic intention behind the act. It has the effect
of killing its victim, to be sure, but, as we shall see, if it is not ritualized,
choreographed violence carried out in precisely the right manner, it will entirely
miss its symbolic target. Oratorical bouts and lavish displays of hospitality
(among other acts of conspicuous consumption) are "violent" in the sense that
they are intended as a challenge of the honor of the recipient.
Jamous considers the exchange of murder between groups in competition for
honor as the most interesting type of symbolic behavior. He does not simply
accept the idea of murder (what would have been "feud" in the functionalist
model) as the exercise of force, but shows how subtly its modalities signify
various cultural meanings. A Berber man of honor bent on vengeance, for
example, must show patience, discipline, and stealth by ambushing his victim
when the victim least suspects foul play and then hitting his target squarely
between the eyes as evidence of marksmanship. Having carried out the deed, he
must signal it as an act of counter-defiance (as opposed to sheer murder) by
rising from his cover for witnesses to see and then brandishing his rifle in the air.
Jamous points out the metaphorical equivalence between the act of physical
violence in this case and the ways of the hunt. Both entail the idea of a trap or
snare into which the victim stumbles or is lured, and the hunter must be clever in
the way he makes himself invisible to his victim by blending with the environment. But what crucially separates the two acts is the witnessed gesture of raising
the rifle in the air, for this distinguishes an act of sheer killing from one in which
a man's honor is engaged.
The same point about interpreting violence symbolically can be made with
regard to the engagement of entire groups in "mock combat." Raids were
conducted reciprocally between sections of a tribe and often led to loss of life
and destruction of property. Unfortunately, Jamous does not mention whether
there existed certain prescribed modalities of raiding that were heavily invested
with honor, as in the case, for example, with Arabian Bedouins reported by
Burckhardt.65This becomes more apparent in his analysis of what he calls "mock
combat." Two groups that have been feuding with each other try to avoid a
general massacre by calling on their allies in the leff66 system for support:

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Steven C. Caton

La bataille a lieu dans un espace ouvert, les groupes prenant position l'un en face de
l'autre, mais a distance. Elle commence par des joutes oratoires. Chaque groupe vante ses
propres merites et insulte son adversaire.67
To be sure, who precisely does the vaunting and insulting is not unimportant.
We discover that it is only the younger men of the tribe who engage in these
oratorical bouts, and to understand the significance of this fact we must delve
into Berber conceptions of how honorable men "should speak" in public.
There are basically two diametrically opposed kinds of speakers, only one of
whom exemplifies the man of honor. The person who is loud, speaks brashly
before thinking, is boastful, and tries to dominate conversations may be brave
but is not esteemed: He is considered immature, ignorant, and irresponsible. In
contrast with him is the man of honor, who
doit se contr6ler et peser chaque mot qu'il prononce. I1 sait ce qui se dit et la faqon dont il
faut le dire, et aussi ce qui ne se dit pas. Son discours est precis, concis et prononce avec
calme et mesure. Plus encore, il lui faut connaitre parfaitement la langue et se singulariser
en utilisant les mots et les phrases qui ont du <poids>>,
du thaql. Cette maitrise de la parole
suppose un long apprentissage. L'homme d'honneur ecoute ses aines, etudie leur comportement, s'instruit longuement avant de pouvoir tenir son rang.68
The young participants in the oratorical bouts do not exhibit in their speaking
the "control" and "even" tone required of a man of honor, and for this reason
their speaking is deemed a parody of the serious rhetorical contests in which the
real men of honor engage.
In what context, then, do the men of honor engage in the verbal agon?
Lors des assembl6es de patrilignage ou de la communaute, des hommes d'honneur
peuvent s'engager dans des competitions de cette nature. Chacun exercera son talent h
montrer le plus d'humilit6 et a vanter l'autre. Dans ce cadre, il faut savoir tourner ses
phrases, utiliser avec soin les mots a sens multiples, riches de signification. L'improvisation
imagee, le sens du rhythme, de la formule poetique et lyrique, sont tres apprecies. Dans
ces 6changes, qui peuvent durer des heures et sont parfois suivis par une foule passionnee,
deux hommes peuvent ainsi se mesurer. Celui qui saura le mieux jouer la modestie en
utilisant avec art les finesses de la langue berbere acquerra du prestige, un renom aupres
69
des Iqr'iyen. Mais, par la meme, il sera jalouse, et il lui faudra subir les defis des autres.

From this passage it is clear that the councils mentioned by Montagne70 but
never described in detail represent a crucial stage of social action for the public
exhibition of the man of honor. And it is no less clear that verbal means are
bon mot and not the bullet. Unfortunately, as in the
employed in this agon-the
case of the oratorical bouts between the leff mentioned above, there are no
sample texts given by Jamous of these assembly sessions, so we are not able to
follow up his lead by a more careful sociolinguistic analysis.
But while it is clear that the assemblies are viewed by Jamous as arenas in

which honor is signified, it is not the case that he views them as an organ of any
power: "II nous parait exagere de pretendre, comme l'ont fait certains auteurs,
que ces assemblees soient un organe legislatif analogue a ceux de la Grece
antique ou de Rome."71 There is thus a hesitancy on his part to entertain the

possibility that besides the obsession with gaining public recognition of one's

A Critique of the Segmentary Model in the Middle East

93

honor, what may be behind these rhetorical contests is the winning of power by
persuasion. I will return to this point after the discussion of Jamous's analysis of
honor and the segmentary system has been completed.
The Rise of the Amghar: Is Power Based Only on Force?
Being a man of honor, the amghar would be expected also to participate in
what Jamous has previously called "exchanges of violence"-that is, physical
attacks on other amghar, ostentatious displays of hospitality, and certain
modalities of speech. The last is the most interesting from my point of view:
Un ?grand?>
est un orateur.It doit non seulementconnaitretous les raffinementsde la
langue berbere,mais savoir comment les utiliser... devant l'assembleedu lignage ou
devantcelle de la communauteterritoriale;il pourraainsi obtenirdes r6sultatset non des
flatteries.72

But we might well ask: How does he obtain results?

II convoquel'assembleeet cherchea provoquerun consensussur la decision a prendre.
Tout son art est d'apparaitrecommele porte-paroledu patrilignage.On dit que l'autorite
vient de ce qu'on lui a delegueet reconnule droit de representerle groupe.
du <(grand?>
C'estle consensus,non la coercition,qui lui permetd'occupercette position.73
In this passage Jamous comes very close to asserting what I have been arguing
all along-that the leader in tribal society is a man who must know how to
persuade an audience by rhetorical means as opposed to coercing them by the
use or the threat of force. And yet, Jamous holds back from this conclusion. In
fact, without directly saying so, he seems to consider this power of persuasion a
mere mystification when he asserts in the very next sentence:
En fait, nous le verrons, le pouvoir est loin d'etre negligeablechez les Iqar'iyen. Le
detientun pouvoircoercitifreel. Mais tout doit se passercommesi les agnatslui
?grand>>
remettaient,pour un acte volontaire et de plain gre, le droit de les guider, de les
74
gouverner.
Are we to assume here that power defined as force is somehow "real" whereas
the cultural interpretation of power as persuasion is somehow "unreal," being
merely a masking of reality? If this is what Jamous is asserting, then we might
well remind ourselves of Dumont's salutory dictum: It is not the understanding
of power as force that is the fundamental problem of our analysis, but rather the
relationship of that power to symbolic values and concepts. In other words, if a
cultural ideology constrains the ambitious man from exercising power as force, it
stands to reason that power must be understood in this kind of society as
inhering in something else and I would suggest that this something else is the act
of persuasion exercised by the more subtle means of rhetoric.
My argument now continues. We have explored the meaning of honor in
Iqar'iyen society and have shown how the amghar, in order to be the quintessence
of the man of honor, must control land and women and must participate in
exchanges of violence, including oratorical contests. Throughout his argument
Jamous is careful to note the relationship of certain "facts" (such as murder,

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Steven C. Caton

marriage, and land) to social values, but we have noted that he stumbles in his
analysis of power, for here force is somehow more "real" than persuasion, even
though, as we shall see, egalitarian concepts and values of IqarDiyen society
would suggest that persuasion is dominant over force. To bring home my point,
let us now turn to the final part of Jamous's discussion of honor and the
segmentary system, found in his Chapter 9.
In this theoretical chapter Jamous explicitly opposes his view of the segmentary
system to that of the functionalists, especially Ernest Gellner. We have seen that
the institutional form of the feud was explained by its "function" in keeping
groups in opposition, the principle of "balanced opposition" being the sole
means by which order is maintained in an anarchical environment. For Jamous
the explanation of the feud is in its being a form of social exchange:
La violence institutionnalisee[feud] n'est pas seulement un moyen pour les groupes
solidairesde defendreleur patrimoineen sanctionnantleurs agresseurs,elle est aussi et
surtoutle lieu de l'change social sans lequel il n'y a pas de segmentarite.C'estbien ainsi
que le comprennentles Iqar'iyenquandils affirmentque chaquegroupe segmentairene
peut se contenter de gerer et de d6fendreson patrimoinecommun, son domaine de
l'interdit,mais qu'il doit aussi affronterles autresgroupesdans l'arenepubliquepar les
echangesde violence.... C'est au niveau ideologiquequ'il faut la comprendre,c'est-adire comme un ensemble de representationset de valeurs qui ordonnentet orientent
l'action des membres d'une socifte. Il en est bien ainsi chez les Iqar3iyen,ou la
segmentariteest une manifestationde l'honneur.75
In other words, if one begins the explanation at the level of ideology where the
concept and value of honor hold sway, then one can easily account for the fact
that the two aspects of the defense of and aggression against social domains of
honor are logically entailed, for, as we have seen, honor impels men into both
actions.
But there are other relations that define the universe of men besides those of
honor and violence, and it is here that we come to the problem of understanding
equality (or what I have been calling autonomy):
Par ailleurs,cette reglesegmentaireest normative,car elle definitun universde relations
en terms d6'galite.I ne s'agit pas, comme dans nos societes modernes,dune ideologie
universalistepronant l'6galitede nature et de principedes individus. Dans la societe
segmentaire, les individus ne peuvent pas revendiquer un droit absolu, mais une identite

relativeen fonction des positions verticalesqu'ils occupent dans les differentsgroupes

segmentaires.De plus, l'Fgalites'inscritdans une structureparticulierequi n'integrepas
tous les membresde la societe: chez les IqarDiyen,les groupesreligieux,les famillesde
proteges,lesjuifs et les musicienssont exclusdu jeu segmentaire.76
The problem is that the ambitious struggle for power of the Berber "big men"
leads to a hierarchical ordering that contradicts the ideology of egalitarianism,
and the question that Jamous poses is: How does one deal theoretically with
such a contradiction?
Let us recall that according to Jamous, "real" power in this society is to be
analyzed as "force," which is exemplified by the amghar in his struggle to realize
his ambitions. There is, of course, no denying that such power exists in the
system; the question is whether it is the only kind of power that exists and, if

A Critique of the Segmentary Model in the Middle East

95

not, what the relative importance of the two kinds of power may be. We saw in
Jamous's description of the patrilineage and community assemblies that the
amghar must give public recognition to the segmentary ideology of egalitarianism;
that is to say, he must rule as if by consensus. We have seen that in the context
of his discussion Jamous seems to imply that this is only a pretense, a mystification of "real" power as force and that the amghar, along with his followers
who collude with him in this histrionic business of self-deception, tries to appear
essentially powerless.
But it stands to reason that in Jamous's model, force would have to be
dominated by a concept of power as persuasion and not the other way around.
In other words, it can be concluded that there is not only a notion of power
(persuasion) in this type of society distinct from that of force, but that it must
also be, according to the logic of "segmentary equality in effect (englobing)
authority," ideologically dominant.
Germane to this point is the Aith Waryaghar's concept of democracy: "The
egalitarianism of individuals and of segments or groups acts as the effective
check on the power aspirations of one and all."77 In his rich and quite detailed
analysis of the political organization of this Moroccan tribe, Hart makes clear
that this egalitarianism in part explains why the powers of the Berber chiefs are
held severely in check by the councils,78 and that furthermore, there is a
murderous competition between individuals, which Jamous ascribes to the value
of honor alone. In other words, not only honor must be examined in the cultural
system, but also autonomy (or egalitarianism; the terms, though not synonymous,
are close enough in meaning for the purposes of the argument), and there are
facts Jamous is concerned with that can be explained as easily in terms of one
concept as the other.
Once we realize and accept that power as persuasion is just as real as power
understood in terms of force, we are in a position to reconsider some of
Jamous's analysis of speaking and its importance to the man of honor. According
to Jamous, the reason that Berber men of honor cultivate a deep understanding
of their language and a rapier-like facility in its use is in order to engage in social
exchanges of honor. There is no denying that this view of speaking is to some
extent correct and important, but I would deny that we have necessarily come to
the bottom of the matter by resting it on the notion of honor alone. If the
dominant ideology is egalitarianism, then it follows that a Berber leader would
try to use speech in tribal assemblies in order to persuade autonomous
individuals, and this usage is properly understood as political rhetoric. This view
of speaking helps to explain why, for instance, the man of honor speaks humbly,
respecting the dignity of the other and avoiding brash self-glorification, because
in this manner he is affirming the equality of the other with himself. If he
verbally abuses and browbeats the other by using threats, as the younger
Iqar'iyen do in their oratorical bouts, he is demonstrating coercion in his
discourse and contravening the principle that one must persuade persons who,
ideally, are free and should not be compelled. The younger Iqar'iyen have
learned only the more rudimentary rather than the more refined and subtle
exercise of power; they have mastered coercion and not persuasion. I would
suggest that it is by learning how to be persuasive-how to become an orator-

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Steven C. Caton

that an Iqar'iyen then becomes a man of honor. If we have not the slightest
inkling of how persuasion is learned, it is because power has been conceived of
only as force and because there is as yet no study of oratory in Berber society.
A NEW APPROACH

If we place emphasis on persuasion in our political model, it stands to reason

that action must be culturally interpretable in terms of the concept and value of
autonomy. I say "culturally" interpretable because I am not talking about
Western notions of individualism to be imposed on the data. Persuasion must be
explained in light of cultural notions such as autonomy because an actor would
only try to persuade someone whom he could not or should not compel. In other
words, actors must believe that they are in some sense free to accept or reject
political policies and that their opinions matter in the decision-making process.
Of course, it may be the case that in any given situation there are factors at play
mitigating the voluntariness of action (wealth, military force), but one cannot
simply reduce the process of persuasion to "mystification" by claiming that such
factors are somehow more "real." One can only proceed by weighing the given
factors in a particular case alongside the use of persuasion and then ranking
them, if possible, in the analysis. However, insofar as political analysts rarely if
ever pay attention to the variable of persuasion in their analysis, it is impossible
to determine in the literature what kind of significance it has.
Apart from some cultural notion of autonomy to explain political action, the
literature also reveals that the processes by which persuasion is exercised are
distinctly verbal ones. We have seen that these processes share certain structural
features regardless of the society in which they may be instantiated. What I
would like to explore in this section is the question of whether we can describe
the form of speaking in these processes that is relevant to our concerns of
autonomy, persuasion, and decision-making.
It is remarkable how often in the travel and ethnographic literature of the
Middle East the observation is made that men of power are said to possess
"speech," which metaphorically means that they have access to important
contacts in all sorts of wide-ranging networks and therefore can get things done
for their followers, but which literally also means that they are persuasive and
are orators. Montagne says of the head of the Sous families (southern Morocco)
that "il est bon, en outre, d'etre habile au gouvernment et de <savoir parler dans
les assemblees.?>"79
It is also worth citing Burckhardt's observation of Arabian
Bedouin that "a sheikh, however renowned he may be for bravery, or skill in
war, can never expect to possess great influence over his Arabs without the talent
of oratory."80 Even more remarkable than the constant repetition of this theme
is the fact that no analytical study of Middle Eastern tribal leaders has attempted
to link power with verbal persuasion in any serious way. At a time when political
anthropology is experiencing an interest in oratory or political rhetoric (thanks
in no small part to the publication of the collection of papers edited by Maurice
Bloch, entitled Political Language and Oratory in Traditional Tribal Society,

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cited n. 7), students of the Middle East should begin to pay attention to modes
of discourse connected with the creation and maintenance of power.
To say that persuasion is a type of power instantiated in discourse is still too
vague a formulation, so let us adopt a model of dialogue-the interchange of
talk-to be one ideal type in which the form of this discourse may be analyzed.
We have seen it over and over again in the discussions, brief as they have been,
of conflict and mediation. The Nuer leopard-skin chief must get all the parties to
express their opinions in a case and then draw out the consensus. How else can
one interpret the seeming polyphony of voices in the Basseri herding camp
meetings except as the framing of argument and counterargument, which is
dialogue tuned to the high pitch of debate? And is there any better way to
understand Jamous's concept of exchange where the rhetorical contests of the
"big men" in the assemblies are concerned than in terms of dialogue?
Besides involving at least two but often a plethora of voices engaged with each
other, dialogue also invokes the notion of autonomy--in fact requires it. A
command is not part of a dialogue; a suggestion or a question is. If I have no
right to refrain or dissent or agree, I cannot engage in a true dialogue. I do not
have to remind the reader that autonomy has been one of the most important
themes of sociopolitical action among the Nuer and the Moroccan Berbers.
Dialogue, as a sociolinguistic act, is thus perfectly congruent with autonomous
action in these kinds of societies.
Dialogue is related to a third notion that is important for persuasiondialectics. It is not enough that a plethora of voices be opposed to each other for
a true dialogue to take place; they must also listen and hear in their medley a
common chord that keeps them in harmony. If there is not the slightest
recognition of mutuality and common ground, the bond of dialogue will snap
and the parties disperse. As in dialectics, wherein oppositions are mediated by a
third term that has something in common with both, so in dialogue there must
be mediation of the opposed points of view. The mediator in tribal conflicts is, in
a sense, a third term who tries to find the common ground in the dialogue of
disputes, and then to expand it. Dialogue, then, is a process whereby seemingly
opposed spokesmen have their points of view mediated on the basis of mutual
consensus. This dialectical process inherent in dialogue is evident in the way in
which the tribal leader steers discussions, for he must know how to extract, from
all the divergent opinions of his followers, a common group consensus. He is the
dialectician par excellence.
Power as persuasion is thus instantiated in dialogue, entailing a balance
among a plethora of voices, all of which are autonomous and all of which can be
mediated through some dialectical process.
Our understanding of the form of speaking in which the power of persuasion
is exercised is not complete, however, if we cannot account for its eloquence.
This is the quality remarked upon by Jamous in the speeches given by the "big
men" before the assemblies; the rhythmic cadences, the euphonic sounds, the
sparkling bon mot, the dexterous metaphor, the architectonic structure of an
argument, the stylistically precise choice of words-these are the elements that

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Steven C. Caton

the skillful orator must command to influence his audience's opinions. They are
the figures of speech that analytically speaking are best handled by the discipline
of poetics.
One last issue remains to be addressed in our cultural model: symbolic (as
opposed to physical) compulsion. Clearly, the leopard-skin chief and the
igurramen possess the power of persuasion as well as the power of the curse, but
the latter is used only as a last resort-that is, if persuasion fails. Persuasion and
not symbolic compulsion (the curse) is the primary basis of power. In the
Iqar'iyen case, the younger generation prefers the symbolic compulsion of verbal
abuse, whereas the older generation respects the persuasive word in the assembly.
In all cases, persuasion and not symbolic compulsion is the preferred means of
settling disputes.
One must try to ascertain in what circumstances power as physical force is
invoked as opposed to power as persuasion, and to recognize that there is often a
subtle dialectical interplay between the two. In the context of Nuer intratribal
relations, the ideal is for persons and groups to resolve their differences through
persuasion, whereas in intertribal situations just the reverse is the case and
persuasion may not even be possible. Something rather similar seems to occur
among the Basseri nomads: intracamp relations are governed ideally by persuasion rather than physical force, though it is harder to determine from the
available facts whether such force becomes more prevalent outside the camp.
Among the Iqar'iyen physical force is resorted to by the "big man" but not in
the context of the assemblies, where persuasion prevails.
CONCLUSION

In this article it has been suggested that we rethink the notion of power in
terms of persuasion. To carry out such an analysis of power would require, of
course, linguistic data of a sort anthropologists do not usually collect. For
various reasons, which are not always the fault of the ethnographer, we have
been left entirely in the dark as to what has been said and how it has been said in
a variety of social contexts where the decision-making process takes place,
whether these be the zawiya of the High Atlas saint, Iqar'iyen political assemblies,
or herding camp meetings. To their credit, Barth, Gellner, and, to a greater
extent, Jamous provide us with some data bearing on notions and ways of
speaking in these social contexts, but these data were collected with other
problems in mind and are barely enough to serve even the most piecemeal
analysis. Sometimes the reason for the paucity of such data must be explained by
the lack of linguistic competence on the part of the ethnographer who, as in the
case of Barth, may rely largely on an interpreter and will thereby miss the
nuances of linguistic usage so crucial to the problem at hand. But this is not
always the case; it is not always a lack of linguistic competence that is the
problem so much as it is a shortcoming of the analysis-the failure to realize
that persuasion is at least as important as force in comprehending political
action.

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99

Fluency in a field language may be sufficient for collecting the data, but it is
not sufficient as far as the analysis is concerned, which requires a grounding in
linguistics, political rhetoric, and poetics beyond what most students of political
action possess. The benefit of interdisciplinary work in tackling the problem set
forth in this article accrues not only to students of Middle Eastern tribal politics
but also to scholars interested more generally in the relationship of speech and
society. As we have already stated, observers have long ago remarked on the
cultural importance of eloquence in defining leadership qualities among tribes of
the Middle East. Our model helps us to understand that this valuation of speech
is related, and crucially so, to a central model of social organization-the
segmentary system-and to one of the key problems of sociological analysisnamely, the question of maintaining social order. In other words, exploring our
problem of understanding power as persuasion presents an opportunity to bring
together the study of speech and of society in some of their most profound and
important forms, which will help us to enrich and strengthen the field of
sociolinguistics as well as Middle East studies.
LINGUISTICS PROGRAM
HAMILTON COLLEGE
NOTES
Author's note: I am most grateful to the readers selected by the journal, whose insightful
comments and bibliographical suggestions helped immensely to sharpen my argument. I would like to
thank Michael E. Meeker for his extensive comments on an earlier version of this article. Among
other things, he brought to my attention the need to talk about force in symbolic terms and also
directed me toward Said S. Samatar's book Oral Poetry and Somali Nationalism (Cambridge, 1982).
I am also grateful for the criticisms of Joshua L. Simonds, which influenced my revisions.
'M. Fortes and E. E. Evans-Pritchard, eds., African Political Systems (London, 1970), p. xiv.
2E. E. Evans-Pritchard, The Nuer (New York, 1974), "The Nuer of the Southern Sudan," in
African Political Systems, pp. 272-96, and The Sanusi of Cyrenaica (Oxford, 1949); E. L. Peters,
"The Proliferation of Segments in the Lineage of the Bedouin of Cyrenaica," J. R. Anthrop. Instit.
89 (1959), 29-53, and "Some Structural Aspects of the Feud Among Camel-Herding Bedouin of
Cyrenaica," Africa, 37, 3 (July, 1967), 261-82; Ernest Gellner, Saints of the Atlas (Chicago, 1969).
3Raymond Jamous, Honneur et baraka. Les structures sociales traditionelles dans le Rif
(Cambridge, 1981).
4Frederik Barth, Political Leadership among Swat Pathans, London School of Economics Monographs on Social Anthropology, No. 19 (London, 1959), Features of Person and Society in Swat:
Collected Essays of Frederik Barth, Vol. 2 (London, 1981), and Nomads of South Persia: The Basseri
Tribe of the Khamseh Confederacy (Boston, 1961).
5Roman Jakobson, "Concluding Statement: Linguistics and Poetics," in Thomas A. Sebeok, ed.,
Style in Language (Cambridge, Mass., 1970), pp. 350-77.
6Kenneth Burke, A Rhetoric of Motives (Berkeley, 1969), and Philosophy of Literary Form
(Berkeley, 1973). See also Jan Mukatovsky, The Word and Verbal Art (New Haven, 1977), and
Structure, Sign and Function (New Haven, 1978).
7Maurice Bloch, ed. Political Language and Oratory in Traditional Society (London, 1975).
Various anthropologists doing research in the Middle East have been aware of the significance of
oratory. See, for example, Dale F. Eickelman, "The Art of Memory," Comparative Studies in
Society and History, 20, 4 (1978); and Clifford Geertz, "Art as a Cultural System," in his Local
Knowledge (New York, 1983), pp. 94-120.

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8Said S. Samatar, Oral Poetry and Somali Nationalism (Cambridge, 1982).

9Ibid., pp. 24-25.
'"WilliamBright, ed., Sociolinguistics (Mouton, 1966); Dell Hymes, Foundations in Sociolinguistics
(Philadelphia, 1974); John G. Gumperz and Dell Hymes, eds., The Ethnography of Communication
(Washington, D.C., 1964), and Directions in Sociolinguistics: The Ethnography of Communication
(New York, 1972); Richard Bauman and Joel Scherzer, eds., Explorations in the Ethnography of
Speaking (Cambridge, 1974); Michael Silverstein, "Shifters, Linguistic Categories, and Cultural
Description," in Keith H. Basso and Henry A. Selby, eds., Meaning in Anthropology (Albuquerque,
1976), pp. 11-55.
'Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan (1651), especially Part I, Ch. XIII.
2Evans-Pritchard, The Nuer, p. 151.
3Ibid., p. 169.
4Peters, "Structural Aspects of the Feud."
'5P. 156: "The Corporate life is incompatible with a state of feud."
'6"Nuerof Southern Sudan," p. 278.
'7Evans-Pritchard, The Nuer, p. 161.
'8Peters, "Structural Aspects of the Feud," p. 268.
'9Gellner, Saints of the Atlas, p. 1.
2'For criticism of Gellner's thesis, see Abdellah Hammoudi, "Segmentarite, stratification sociale,
pouvoir politique et saintete. Reflections sur les theses de Gellner," Hesperis-Tamuda, 15 (1974),
147-80; Hildred Geertz, "Review of Saints of the Atlas," Journal of American Sociology, 76 (1971),
763-66.
2'Gellner, Saints of the Atlas, p. 82.
22Evans-Pritchard, The Nuer, p. 173.
2Ibid., p. 175.
24Ibid.,pp. 85-86.
25Evans-Pritchard,The Vuer, pp. 163-64.
26Gellner, Saints of the Atlas, p. 86.
27Ibid.
28Ibid.,p. 129.
29Seenote 4 for Barth's work.
30Barthclaimed that in the Swat system, individuals belonged to specific kinship or descent groups
but would establish contractual relations with landowning chiefs for essentially economic and
political reasons, and that these chiefs would compete for power in the political system. The basic
political structure of Swat society, according to this argument, is a dyadic bond between client and
patron; viewed another way, the political system consists of a field of competing patrons.
3"See Talal Asad, "Market Model, Class Structure and Consent: A Reconsideration of Swat
Political Organization," Man, 7, 1 (1972), 79-94; Akbar Ahmad, Millennium and Charisma among
Pathans (London, 1976); Charles Lindholm, Generosity and Jealousy (New York, 1982). For
criticism of Barth's Nomads, see Emrys Peters, "The Paucity of Ritual Among Middle Eastern
Pastoralists" in Islam in Tribal Societies, Akbar S. Ahmad and David M. Hart, eds. (London, 1984),
pp. 187-219.
32Frederik Barth, "Swat Pathans Reconsidered," in Features of Person and Society in Swat,
pp. 121-81.
33Barth,Nomads, p. 27.
34Ibid.
5Ibid., p. 28.
36Ibid.,p. 32.
3"Ibid.,p. 30.
3"Ibid.
39lbid., p. 32.
40Ibid.,p. 160.
4'Ibid., p. 37.
4Ibid., pp. 25-26.
43Ibid.,p. 25.

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44Ibid.,p. 43.
45Ibid.,pp. 29 and 81.
4Ibid., pp. 44-45.
47Ibid.,p. 44.
48WilliamLancaster, The Rwala Bedouin Today (Cambridge, 1981), p. 7.
49Ibid.,p. 67.
50Ibid.,p. 51.
5Ibid., p. 52.
52Ibid.,p. 159.
53Ibid.,p. 73.
54Ibid.,p. 87.
55For another analysis of the sheikh in the Arabian context, see Paul Dresch, "The Position of
Shaykhs Among the Northern Tribes of Yemen," Man (N.S.), 19 (1982), pp. 31-49.
56EmrysL. Peters, "The Proliferation of Segments" and "Some Structural Aspects of the Feud."
57Dale F. Eickelman, The Middle East Today: An Anthropological Approach (Englewood Cliffs,
N.J., 1981), p. 102.
58MichaelE. Meeker, "Meaning and Society in the Near East: Examples from the Black Sea Turks
and the Levantine Arabs," Int. J. of Middle East Studies, 7 (1976), 243-70; 383-422. See also his
highly original book Literature and Violence in Northern Arabia (Cambridge, 1976). An early
contribution to a model of segmentary societies set forth by Meeker and others is Pierre Bourdieu's
"The Sentiment of Honor in Kabyle Society," in Honor and Shame, J. G. Peristiany, ed. (London,
1965), pp. 191-241.
59For further development of his argument, one should consult Gellner's Muslim Society
(Cambridge, 1981).
60For this point, see Ahmad, Millennium and Charisma.
6'Clifford Geertz, "In Search of North Africa," New York Review of Books, 22 (1971); Dale F.
Eickelman, Moroccan Islam (Austin, 1976); Lawrence Rosen, "Rural Political Process and National
Political Structure in Morocco," in Rural Politics and Social Change in the Middle East, Richard
Antoun and Iliya Harik, eds. (Bloomington, 1972), pp. 214-36.
62Clifford Geertz, Hildred Geertz, and Lawrence Rosen, Meaning and Society in Morocco
(Cambridge, 1979); Lawrence Rosen, Bargainingfor Reality: The Construction of Social Relations in
a Muslim Community (Chicago, 1984).
63Jamous,Honneur et baraka, p. 5.
64Ibid.,p. 65.
65JohnLewis Burckhardt, Notes on the Bedouins and Wahabys (London, 1831).
66R. Montagne, Les Berberes et le makhzen dans le sud du Maroc (Paris, 1930).
67Jamous, Honneur et baraka, p. 79.
68Ibid.,p. 70.
69Ibid.
70Montagne, Les Berberes, see especially Book II, Ch. IV.
71Jamous,Honneur et baraka, p. 35.
72Ibid.,p. 104-5.
73Ibid.,p. 109.
74Ibid.
75Ibid.,p. 182.
76Ibid.
77David M. Hart, The Aith Waryagharof the Moroccan Rif (Tucson, Ariz., 1976), p. 444.
78David M. Hart, The Dadda 'Atta and His Forty Grandsons (Cambridge, 1981).
79Montagne, Les Berberes, p. 221.
80Burckhardt,Notes on the Bedouins, p. 250.