We have been following the various routes and ramifications of the Kula, entering minutely and meticulously into its rules and customs., its beliefs and practices, and the mythological tradition spun round it, till, arriving at the end of our information, we have made its two ends meet. We shall now put aside the magnifying glass of detailed examination and look from a distance at the subject of our inquiry, take in the whole institution with one glance, let it assume a definite shape before us. This shape will perhaps strike us as being something unusual, something not met before in ethnological studies. It will be well to make an attempt at finding its place among the other subjects of systematic ethnology, at gauging its significance, at assessing how much we have learned by becoming acquainted with it.

After all there is no value in isolated facts for science, however striking and novel they might seem in themselves. Genuine scientific research differs from mere curio-hunting in that the latter runs after the quaint, singular and freakish—the craving for the sensational and the mania of collecting providing its twofold stimulus. Science on the other hand has to analyse and classify facts in order to place them in an organic whole, to incorporate them in one of the systems in which it tries to group the various aspects of reality.

I shall not, of course enter upon any speculations or add any hypothetical assumptions to the empirical data contained in the foregoing chapters. I shall confine myself to some reflections on the most general aspect of the institution, and try to express somewhat more clearly what to me appears the mental attitude at the bottom of the various Kula customs. These general points of view ought, I think, to be considered and tested in further field-work done on subjects akin to the Kula as well as in theoretical research, and might thus prove fertile for future scientific work. In this form it may be granted that it is the privilege of the chronicler of a novel phenomenon to pass it over to the consideration of fellow-workers; but it is his duty as well as his privilege. For, apart from his first-hand acquaintance with the facts—and indeed, if his account is good, he ought to have succeeded in transferring the best part of his knowledge to the reader—the fundamental aspects and characteristics of an ethnographic phenomenon for being general are none the less empirical. It is therefore the Chronicler’s task to finish his account by a comprehensive, synthetic coup d’oeil upon the institution described.

As said the Kula seems to be, to a certain extent, a novel type of ethnological fact. Its novelty lies partly in the size of its sociological and geographical extent. A big, inter-tribal relationship, uniting with definite social bonds a vast area and great numbers of people, binding them with definite ties of reciprocal obligations, making them follow minute rules and observations in a concerted manner—the Kula is a sociological mechanism of surpassing size and complexity, considering the level of culture on which we find it. Nor can this wide network of social co-relations and cultural influences be considered for a moment as ephemeral, new or precarious. For its highly developed mythology and its magical ritual show how deeply it has taken root in the tradition of these natives and of what ancient growth it must be.

Another unusual feature is the character of the transaction itself, which is the proper substance of the Kula. A half commercial, half ceremonial exchange, it is carried out for its own sake, in fulfilment of a deep desire to possess. But here again, it is not ordinary possession, but a special type, in which a man owns for a short time, and in an alternating manner, individual specimens of two classes of objects. Though the ownership is incomplete in point of permanency, it is in turn enhanced in point of numbers successively possessed, and may be called a cumulative possession.

Another aspect of great, perhaps the greatest, importance and which perhaps reveals best the unusual character of the Kula is the natives’ mental attitude towards the tokens of wealth. These latter are neither used nor regarded as money or currency, and they resemble these economic instruments very little, if indeed there is any resemblance at all, except that both money and vaygu’a represent condensed wealth. Vaygu’a is never used as medium of exchange or as measure of value, which are the two most important functions of currency or money. Each piece of vaygu’a of the Kula type has one main object throughout its existence—to be possessed and exchanged; has one main function and serves one main purpose—to circulate round the Kula ring, to be owned and displayed in a certain manner, of which we shall speak presently. And the exchange which each piece of vaygu’a constantly undergoes is of a very special kind; limited in the geographical direction in which it can take place, narrowly circumscribed in the social circle of men between whom it may be done, it is subject to all sorts of strict rules and regulations; it can neither be described as barter, nor as simply giving and receiving of presents, nor in any sense is it a play at exchange. In fact it is Kula, an exchange of an entirely novel type. And it is just through this exchange, through their being constantly within reach and the object of competitive desire, through being the means of arousing envy and conferring social distinction and renown, that these objects attain their high value. Indeed, they form one of the leading interests in native life, and are one of the main items in the inventory of their culture. Thus, one of the most important and unusual features of the Kula is the existence of the Kula vaygu’a, the incessantly circulating and ever exchangeable valuables, owing their value to this very circulation and its character.

The acts of exchange of the valuables have to conform to a definite code. The main tenet of this declares that the transaction is not a bargain. The equivalence of the values exchanged is essential, but it must be the result of the repayer’s own sense of what is due to custom and to his own dignity. The ceremonial attached to the act of giving, the manner of carrying and handling the vaygu’a shows distinctly that this is regarded as something else than mere merchandise. Indeed it is to the native something that confers dignity, that exalts him, and which he therefore treats with veneration and affection. Their behaviour at the transaction, makes it clear that the vaygu’a is regarded, not only as possessing high value, but that it is treated also in a ritual manner, and arouses emotional reaction. This recognition is confirmed and deepened by the consideration of some other uses of vaygu’a, in which uses other valuables, such as kaloma belts and large stone blades also function, besides the Kula articles.

Thus, when a malignant spirit, tauva’u (see Chapter II, Division VII) is found in or near the village in the shape of a snake or a land crab, some vaygu’a is put before it ceremonially and this is not done so much in order to bribe the spirit sacrificially by a gift as rather to exercise a direct action on his mind, and to make it benevolent. In the annual festive and dancing period, the milamala, the spirits return to their villages. The Kula valuables at that time in the hands of the community, as well as the permanent vaygu’a, such as stone blades, kaloma belts, and doga pendants, are exhibited sacrificially to the spirits on a platform, an arrangement and custom called yolova (compare Chapter II, Division VII). Thus the vaygu’a represent the most effective offering to be given to the spirits, through which they can be put into a pleasant state of mind; “to make their minds good,” as the stereotyped phrase of the natives runs. In the yolova an offering is made to the spirits of what is most valued by the living. The shadowy visitors are supposed to take the spirit or shadow part of the vaygu’a home, and make a tanarere of it on the beach of Tuma, just as a Kula party make a tanarere of the acquired valuables on their home beach (cf. Chapter XV, Division IV). In all this there is a clear expression of the mental attitude of the natives, who regard the vaygu’a as supremely good in themselves, and not as convertible wealth, or as potential ornaments, or even as instruments of power. To possess vaygu’a is exhilarating, comforting, soothing in itself. They will look at vaygu’a and handle it for hours; even a touch of it imparts under circumstances its virtue.

This is most clearly expressed by a custom observed at death. A dying man is surrounded and overlaid with valuables which all his relatives and relatives-in-law bring in loan for the occasion, to take it back when all is over while the man’s own vaygu’a are left on the corpse for some time after death (see Plate LXV). Various rationalised versions and justifications of this custom are given. Thus it is said to be a gift to Topileta, the keeper of the nether world; or, again, that it has to be taken in its spiritual form to procure a high social standing in Tuma, or simply, that it is laid to adorn and make happier the last moments of the dying. All these beliefs no doubt exist side by side, and they are all compatible with, and indeed express, the underlying emotional attitude; the comforting action of the valuables. It is applied to the dying as something full of good, as something exercising a pleasant action, soothing and fortifying at the same time. They put it on his forehead, they put it on his chest, they rub his belly and his ribs with it, they dangle some of the vaygu’a before his nose. I have often seen them do that, in fact, observed them do it for hours, and I believe there is a complex, emotional and intellectual attitude at the bottom of it; the desire to inspire with life; and at the same time to prepare for death; to hold him fast to this one, and to equip for the other world; but above all, the deep feeling that the vaygu’a are the supreme comfort, that to surround a man with them, even in his most evil moment, makes this moment less evil. The same mental attitude is probably at the bottom of the custom which prescribes that the widow’s brothers should give a vaygu’a to the brothers of the dead man, the same vaygu’a being given back on the same day. But it is kept just long enough to be of comfort to those, who, according to native kinship ideas, are most directly hit by the death.

In all this we find the expression of the same mental attitude, the extreme value attached to condensed wealth, the serious, respectful way of treating it, the idea and the feeling that it is the reservoir of highest good. The vaygu’a are valued in quite a different manner from that in which we value our wealth. The Biblical symbol of the golden calf might even be better applied to their attitude than to ours, although it would be not quite correct to say that they ‘worship’ the vaygu’a, for they worship nothing. The vaygu’a might perhaps be called “objects of cult” in the sense expressed by the facts of the Kula, and the data just adduced; that is, in so far as they are handled ritually in some of the most important acts of native life.

Thus, in several aspects, the Kula presents to us a new type of phenomenon, lying on the borderland between the commercial and the ceremonial and expressing a complex and interesting attitude of mind. But though it is novel, it can hardly be unique. For we can scarcely imagine that a social phenomenon on such a scale, and obviously so deeply connected with fundamental layers of human nature, should only be a sport and a freak, found in one spot of the earth alone. Once we have found this new type of ethnographic fact, we may hope that similar or kindred ones will be found elsewhere. For the history of our science shows many cases in which a new type of phenomena having been discovered, taken up by theory, discussed and analysed, was found subsequently all the world over. The tabu, the Polynesian word and the Polynesian custom, has served as prototype and eponym to similar regulations found among all the savage and barbarous as well as civilised races. Totemism, found first among one tribe of North American Indians and brought to light by the work of Frazer, has later on been documented so widely and fully from everywhere, that in re-writing his early small book, its historian could fill out four volumes. The conception of mana, discovered in a small Melanesian community has, by the work of Hubert and Mauss, Marett and others, been proved of fundamental importance, and there is no doubt that mana, whether named or unnamed, figures and figures largely in the magical beliefs and practices of all natives. These are the most classical and best known examples, and they could be multiplied by others were it necessary. Phenomena of the ‘totemic type’ or of the ‘mana type’ or of the ‘tabu type’ are to be found in all ethnographic provinces, since each of these concepts stands for a fundamental attitude of the savage towards reality.

So with the Kula, if it represents a novel, but not freakish, indeed, a fundamental type of human activity and of the mental attitude of man, we may expect to find allied and kindred phenomena in various other ethnographic provinces. And we may be on the lookout for economic transactions, expressing a reverential, almost worshipping attitude towards the valuables exchanged or handled; implying a novel type of ownership, temporary, intermittent, and cumulative; involving a vast and complex social mechanism and systems of economic enterprises, by means of which it is carried out. Such is the Kula type of semi-economic, semi-ceremonial activities. It would be futile, no doubt, to expect that exact replicas of this institution should be found anywhere and with the same details, such as the circular path on which the valuables move, the fixed direction in which each class has to travel, and existence of solicitory and intermediate gifts. All these technicalities are important and interesting, but they are probably connected in one way or another with the special local conditions of the Kula. What we can expect to find in other parts of the world are the fundamental ideas of the Kula, and its social arrangements in their main outline, and for these the field-worker might be on the look-out.

For the theoretical student, mainly interested in problems of evolution, the Kula might supply some reflections about the origins of wealth and value, of trade and economic relations in general. It might also shed some light upon the development of ceremonial life, and upon the influence of economic aims and ambitions upon the evolution of intertribal intercourse and of primitive international law. For the student mainly viewing the problems of Ethnology from the point of view of the contact of cultures, and interested in the spread of institutions, beliefs and objects by transmission, the Kula is no less important. Here is a new type of inter-tribal contact, of relations between several communities slightly but definitely differing in culture, and a relation not spasmodic or accidental but regulated and permanent. Quite apart from the fact that in trying to explain how the Kula relationship between the various tribes originated, we are confronted with a definite problem of culture contact.

These few remarks must suffice, as I cannot enter into any theoretical speculations myself. There is one aspect of the Kula, however, to which attention must be drawn from the point of view of its theoretical importance. We have seen that this institution presents several aspects closely intertwined and influencing one another. To take only two, economic enterprise and magical ritual form one inseparable whole, the forces of the magical belief and the efforts of man moulding and influencing one another. How this is happening has been described before in detail in the previous chapters.1

But it seems to me that a deeper analysis and comparison of the manner in which two aspects of culture functionally depend on one another might afford some interesting material for theoretical reflection. Indeed, it seems to me that there is room for a new type of theory. The succession in time, and the influence of the previous stage upon the subsequent, is the main subject of evolutional studies, such as are practised by the classical school of British Anthropology (Tylor, Frazer, Westermarck, Sydney Hartland, Crawley). The ethnological school (Ratzel, Foy, GrÄbner, W. Schmidt, Rivers, and Eliott-Smith) studies the influence of cultures by contact, infiltration and transmission. The influence of environment on cultural institutions and race is studied by anthropo-geography (Ratzel and others). The influence on one another of the various aspects of an institution, the study of the social and psychological mechanism on which the institution is based, are a type of theoretical studies which has been practised up till now in a tentative way only, but I venture to foretell will come into their own sooner or later. This kind of research will pave the way and provide the material for the others.

At one or two places in the previous chapters, a somewhat detailed digression was made in order to criticise the view about the economic nature of primitive man, as it survives in our mental habits as well as in some text books—the conception of a rational being who wants nothing but to satisfy his simplest needs and does it according to the economic principle of least effort. This economic man always knows exactly where his material interests lie, and makes for them in a straight line. At the bottom of the so-called materialistic conception of history lies a somewhat analogous idea of a human being, who, in everything he devises and pursues, has nothing but his material advantage of a purely utilitarian type at heart. Now I hope that whatever the meaning of the Kula might be for Ethnology, for the general science of culture, the meaning of the Kula will consist in being instrumental to dispel such crude, rationalistic conceptions of primitive mankind, and to induce both the speculator and the observer to deepen the analysis of economic facts. Indeed, the Kula shows us that the whole conception of primitive value; the very incorrect habit of calling all objects of value ‘money’ or ‘currency’; the current ideas of primitive trade and primitive ownership—all these have to be revised in the light of our institution.

At the beginning of this book, in the Introduction, I, in a way, promised the reader that he should receive a vivid impression of the events enabling him to see them in their native perspective, at the same time without for one moment losing sight of the method by which I have obtained my data. I have tried to present everything as far as possible in terms of concrete fact, letting the natives speak for themselves, perform their transactions, pursue their activities before the reader’s mental vision. I have tried to pave my account with fact and details, equip it with documents, with figures, with instances of actual occurrence. But at the same time, my conviction, as expressed over and over again, is that what matters really is not the detail, not the fact, but the scientific use we make of it. Thus the details and technicalities of the Kula acquire their meaning in so far only as they express some central attitude of mind of the natives, and thus broaden our knowledge, widen our outlook and deepen our grasp of human nature.

What interests me really in the study of the native is his outlook on things, his Weltanschauung, the breath of life and reality which he breathes and by which he lives. Every human culture gives its members a definite vision of the world, a definite zest of life. In the roamings over human history, and over the surface of the earth, it is the possibility of seeing life and the world from the various angles, peculiar to each culture, that has always charmed me most, and inspired me with real desire to penetrate other cultures, to understand other types of life.

To pause for a moment before a quaint and singular fact; to be amused at it, and see its outward strangeness; to look at it as a curio and collect it into the museum of one’s memory or into one’s store of anecdotes—this attitude of mind has always been foreign and repugnant to me. Some people are unable to grasp the inner meaning and the psychological reality of all that is outwardly strange, at first sight incomprehensible, in a different culture. These people are not born to be ethnologists. It is in the love of the final synthesis, achieved by the assimilation and comprehension of all the items of a culture and still more in the love of the variety and independence of the various cultures that lies the test of the real worker in the true Science of Man.

There is, however, one point of view deeper yet and more important than the love of tasting of the variety of human modes of life, and that is the desire to turn such knowledge into wisdom. Though it may be given to us for a moment to enter into the soul of a savage and through his eyes to look at the outer world and feel ourselves what it must feel to him to be himself—yet our final goal is to enrich and deepen our own world’s vision, to understand our own nature and to make it finer, intellectually and artistically. In grasping the essential outlook of others, with the reverence and real understanding, due even to savages, we cannot but help widening our own. We cannot possibly reach the final Socratic wisdom of knowing ourselves if we never leave the narrow confinement of the customs, beliefs and prejudices into which every man is born. Nothing can teach us a better lesson in this matter of ultimate importance than the habit of mind which allows us to treat the beliefs and values of another man from his point of view. Nor has civilised humanity ever needed such tolerance more than now, when prejudice, ill will and vindictiveness are dividing each European nation from another, when all the ideals, cherished and proclaimed as the highest achievements of civilisation, science and religion, have been thrown to the winds. The Science of Man, in its most refined and deepest version should lead us to such knowledge and to tolerance and generosity, based on the understanding of other men’s point of view.

The study of Ethnology—so often mistaken by its very votaries for an idle hunting after curios, for a ramble among the savage and fantastic shapes of “barbarous customs and crude superstitions”—might become one of the most deeply philosophic, enlightening and elevating disciplines of scientific research. Alas! the time is short for Ethnology, and will this truth of its real meaning and importance dawn before it is too late?