SOCIAL ORGANIZATION

The social organization of the Formosan aborigines presents many points of interest, but the four which most forcibly impress the visitor or student of aboriginal customs, and which, taken together, constitute a somewhat unique system, are the following:

One, or more, of these customs naturally exists among primitive peoples in various parts of the world; it is the combination of these, welded into a well-defined social organization, that makes the latter unique.

That “head-hunting” should be included under the head of “social organization” may seem perhaps a contradiction in terms—head-hunting not being exactly a social custom. I think, however, that anyone who has lived among a head-hunting tribe will realize how closely this custom is interwoven with the fabric of their whole social organization. It regulates the social and political standing of the men of the tribe; it is directly connected with marriage—no head, no wife; and is reflected in the games, the songs, and the dances of the people. Moreover head-hunting is regulated by a code as rigid as the code of “an officer and a gentleman” in so-called civilized society—and is rather less frequently broken.

Deniker, in speaking of the Dyaks of Borneo (see The Races of Man, p. 251), aptly remarks: “A number of acts regarded as culpable by the codes of all civilized states are yet tolerated, and even extolled, in certain particular circumstances; such as the taking of life, for example, in legitimate defence, in a duel, during war, or as a capital punishment. Thus, in recalling examples of this kind, we shall be less severe on a Dyak who cuts off a man’s head solely that he may carry this trophy to his bride; for if he did otherwise he would be repulsed by all.” The same charity for which Deniker pleads in judgment of the Dyak may well be extended to the Formosan aborigine, who never thus seeks private vengeance, whatever his provocation, on one of his fellow-tribesmen,[55] private disputes being always laid before the chief—male or female—of the tribe or before the chief-priestess, or a convocation of the elderly women of the tribal group. Also when a Formosan has voluntarily given his word to refrain from head-hunting, it is said—and my personal observation would tend to confirm this—that he never breaks it.[56]

The tribes among whom head-hunting still exists are the Taiyal, the Bunun, and the Paiwan, though among the Bunun and the Paiwan to a lesser extent at the present time than among the Taiyal. Among all the other Chin-huan tribes it existed within the memory of the older generation still living.

Among the Taiyal tribe—the great tribe of the northern part of the island—one can tell at a glance who has “a head to his credit,” by the presence, or absence, of the tattoo-mark on the chin. Occasionally one sees the insignia of the successful head-hunter tattooed on the chin of young boys. This indicates that these boys are the sons of famous head-hunters and that their hands have been laid upon heads decapitated by their fathers; or that they have carried these heads in net-bags upon their backs. This, by tribal code, entitles them to the successful head-hunter’s tattoo-mark. Incidentally, it must be understood that while the Taiyal are—largely because of their peculiar form of tattooing—usually regarded as a single tribe, they do not so regard themselves, but are composed of a number of sub-groups (it is said twenty-six), who regard themselves as separate units; and who consequently go on head-hunting expeditions against each other.

When a boy attains maturity he is supposed to celebrate this by going on his first head-hunting expedition.[57] Usually several boys of about the same age go together on their first expedition, accompanied by older and more experienced warriors of the same group, or sub-tribe. Before going on such an expedition an omen is always consulted—usually a bird-omen, of which I shall speak more fully under the head of Religion—and it depends upon the favourable or unfavourable indication of the omen as to whether the expedition is undertaken forthwith or is postponed. The Taiyal consider it more auspicious to set forth on such an expedition with an odd number of men. They seem to think the chances will be greater of securing a head, which will count as a man, and thus make up the “lucky even number” with which they hope to return to the village.

During the absence of the warriors on one of these expeditions, the women of the group will abstain from weaving, or even from handling the material—a sort of coarse native hemp—which customarily they weave into clothing. Except for the studious tending of the fires in their respective huts—for if these were allowed to go out, it would be considered a most evil omen—they do little until they hear in the distance the cries which herald the return of the warriors. Then, depending upon whether the cries denote victory or defeat, the women prepare either for a festival or for a time of lamentation.

If the warriors have been successful—that is, if they have returned with one or more heads of slain enemies—a great feast is prepared, and partaken of by the men and women together. In this respect Formosan feasts differ from the victorious warrior-feasts of many other primitive communities, at which only the men are the revellers. This difference also distinguishes the dance that follows the feast, in which both men and women participate, the Formosan aborigines forming an exception to the rule laid down by Deniker that Malay men do not dance. As in feasting and dancing, so do the women also take part in the drinking of wine—made by themselves from millet—and in the smoking of tobacco. Among the Taiyal, as among most of the other tribes, both men and women smoke bamboo pipes—more of the size and shape of those smoked by Europeans than are the tiny pipes smoked by the Chinese and Japanese. These are, however, for some reason which they could not, or would not, explain, often held upside-down while being smoked, the tobacco being very tightly “jammed” into the bowl to prevent its falling out.

Among the coast Ami, only the men smoke pipes, the bowls of which are often decorated with bits of metal—bartered from the Chinese—in imitation of the features of a human face. The women of this tribe smoke huge cigars.

How tobacco was introduced into Formosa, where now it grows practically wild—the leaves being gathered by the women—is a mystery. Probably, however, it was first brought to the island by the Dutch; and, once having been planted in a soil favouring its growth, it continued to flourish and to spread, in spite of what in Europe and in America would be called lack of cultivation. Now smoking is universal among all the tribes of the main island of Formosa. Among the Yami alone—of Botel Tobago—it is, up to the present time, unknown; as is also, apparently, the drinking of any intoxicating liquor. Another thing that differentiates these gentle people from their neighbours of the main island, just to the north of them, is the fact that none of them are head-hunters.

To return for a moment to the present chief head-hunting tribe, the Taiyal. At the time of feasting and dancing in celebration of a victory, the head of the victim is placed on the “skull-shelf” of the village—being often the last addition to a pile of others—and food and millet-wine are placed in front of it, food being sometimes inserted into its mouth. The chief (often a woman), or high-priestess, of the village offers to the last-decapitated head an invitation to the following effect: “O warrior, you are welcome to our village and to our feast! Eat and drink, and ask your brothers to come and join you, and to eat and drink with us also.”

This invocation is supposed to have a magical effect in bringing about other victories, and thus adding more heads to the skull-shelf (see illustration).

The knives with which the heads of enemies have been cut off are held in great reverence by all the tribes. Among one tribe—the Paiwan—it is believed that the spirits of ancestors dwell in certain knives, which have been in the possession of the tribe for several generations.

Among the Paiwan, and also the Bunun, the successful warrior is denoted, not as among the Taiyal by certain tattoo-marking, but by the wearing of a certain kind of cap which is made by the women of the tribe. The Paiwan, whose domain formerly extended all the way to Cape Garanbi, had—and have still in certain quarters—the reputation of being cannibals, as well as head-hunters. A statement to this effect is made in the EncyclopÆdia Britannica (see article under the head of “Formosa”). This, however, I believe to be a mistake; as did also George Taylor, for many years light-house keeper at South Cape (Garanbi), under the Chinese regime; one who probably knew the aborigines more intimately than any white man since the time of the Dutch occupation. The superficial observer, seeing a pile of skulls in a native village—often several skulls over, or at the side of, the doorway of a chief’s house[58]—is apt hastily to assume that the villagers must necessarily be cannibals. But, while head-hunters certainly, I do not believe that the Formosan aborigines are, or ever have been, cannibals.

Among the Paiwan a tradition exists that in “days of old,” when their territory extended to the sea-coast, “great boats” often came near their coast, from which men landed; and that these men were in the habit of capturing and carrying away numbers of the Paiwan people. Whether these “great boats” were Chinese junks or Spanish ships from the Philippines, I do not know. At any rate, among the Paiwan, the killing of strangers—except those with fair hair and blue eyes (which would indicate that the kidnapping invaders of the past were not Dutch)—is alleged to be an act of self-defence, to prevent their being carried away, “as their fathers were.” On what foundation of truth—if any—this tradition is built, I do not know.

In this connection also the Paiwan claim that once, in those olden days, when strangers were landing from one of the large ships, they themselves (the Paiwan) took refuge in a “secret place among the hills,” but they were betrayed by the crowing of a cock, which revealed their hiding-place to the strangers, who killed many of them and carried others away by force to their ship. This they give as their reason for never eating chicken.

But as a neighbouring tribe, the Ami, also never eat chicken, and assign for their abstention an entirely different reason—viz. that “souls of good and gentle people dwell in chickens”—it is not possible to give too great credence to Paiwan tradition, or to their own explanation of their custom; this being one of the many instances where various “reasons” are given by a primitive people in attempted explanation of a long-established custom.

In passing, it may be mentioned that it is only among the coast tribes, such as Paiwan, Piyuma, and Ami, that the raising of chickens, for the sake of their eggs, has been introduced—apparently by the Chinese.

Among the Paiwan, as among the other aboriginal tribes, including the Taiyal of the north, there exists the custom of two great festivals during the year, one at seed-time, the other at harvest-time. During these twice-yearly festivals there is much feasting, much dancing, and, unfortunately, much drinking of millet wine. That which distinguishes the Paiwan festivities, however, from those of the other tribes is that once every five years on these festive days the Paiwan play a game called Mavayaiya. This game consists of a contest between several warriors, each trying to impale on a bamboo lance a bundle—now made of bark—which is tossed into the air, the one who catches it on the point of his lance being considered the victor. Tradition among them asserts that in olden days it was a human head—that of a slain enemy—which was thus tossed about, a mere bundle of bark being considered a poor substitute. But Japanese laws against head-hunting are strict, for Japanese themselves have suffered from these expeditions—punitive usually—and knives, even sacred ones, are no match against modern rifles, or against bombs thrown from aeroplanes.

Similarly with the neighbouring tribe—now a small one—that of the Piyuma. On a festival day, held annually, a monkey—one of those with which the woods of Formosa are filled—is tied before the bachelor dormitory, and killed by the young men with arrows. After it is killed the village chief throws a little native wine three times towards the sky, and three times on the ground, near the body of the dead monkey. Singing, dancing, and feasting follow. The old people of the Piyuma tribe explain that in the “good days of old,” when their tribe was a large and powerful one, a prisoner, captured from some other tribe, was always sacrificed on these festal occasions, but now they—like the Paiwan, with their Mavayaiya—have to be satisfied with an inferior substitute. It seems that one of the reasons why a monkey is considered so particularly inferior a substitute for a man is that the former can at its death bear no message to the spirits of the ancestors of those who slay it. In the good old days every arrow that was shot into the body of the man bore with it a message to the spirit of the ancestor of the man who shot the arrow. Apparently it was regarded as an obligation, one that could not be evaded, on the part of the victim, to deliver this message—rather these many messages—immediately upon his arrival in the spirit-world.

Even among the Paiwan head-hunting is on the decline, being much less practised by this tribe to-day than among the Taiyal. Many of the honours which were formerly paid to the successful Paiwan head-hunter are now paid to the successful hunter of game, and the latter is now even wearing the cap of distinction at one time reserved exclusively for the former.

In game hunting the aborigines use either the old guns, obtained from the Chinese by barter, long ago, or—in the cases where these guns have been confiscated by the Japanese on the ground of their owners being “dangerous savages”—they have returned to the use of bows and arrows such as were used by their ancestors before guns were introduced among them. The bow is simple, usually made of wood of the catalpa tree, the bow-string being made of the tough “China grass,” which grows on the island. The arrow is made of bamboo, the arrow-head now being of iron, this being pounded out from any piece of scrap-iron which the tribes-people can obtain by barter.

An interesting feature of Formosan archery is that the arrows are not feathered, as Japanese arrows are; also that in shooting the arrow, this is always placed on the left side of the bow, whereas it is placed on the right side by both Chinese and Japanese.

So much for the rather unpleasant subject of head-hunting, and those customs which are associated with, or have sprung from, it.

Turning now to the subject of the general political and social organization of the tribes, taken collectively, perhaps the most striking feature may be summed up in the remark of the Japanese policeman who escorted me on one of my first trips among the Taiyal: “Their head-man is a woman”—which rather “Irish” remark holds true not only as regards the Taiyal, but as regards other tribes as well. One often sees the queen, or woman-chief, of a tribal group borne on the shoulders of her subjects, as she goes about the village, so that her sacred feet may not touch the ground. So closely, however, are “Church and State” bound together—that is, so frequently are queen and chief-priestess one—that descriptions of certain customs connected with the “woman head-man” must be postponed until later, when these will be dealt with under the respective heads of Religion and Marriage.

Among the Paiwan—also the small neighbouring tribe of the Piyuma—chieftainship seems to be hereditary, usually descending from mother to daughter, although over some groups male chiefs rule; this apparently being usual when the old queen has died without leaving a daughter. Such instances are not infrequent among a people with whom small families are usual. In this connection, reference may be made to a statement which has been somewhat widely disseminated regarding the children of the aboriginal women of Formosa. It has been said that these women never allow their children to live until they themselves are thirty-seven years of age.[59] This curious statement was made by one of the old Dutch chroniclers of the seventeenth century, and has been repeated, doubtless in good faith—on the strength of the Dutch records—by more modern writers. Of this custom, however, I saw no trace in any of the tribes during my residence among them. On the contrary, I saw many young mothers—of various tribes—nursing and tending their babies with greatest devotion. It is true that with them, as with many primitive peoples, twins are considered “unlucky,” and the weaker of the pair is usually killed at birth. Also, illegitimate children are not allowed to live, Formosan standards—those of the aborigines—being curiously rigorous on the latter point. Except in these instances, I saw nothing that would suggest infanticide among any of the tribes, and heard nothing of it. Both men and women seem particularly devoted to their offspring. But, due apparently to the present hard conditions of life among the aborigines, families are small and comparatively few of the children born grow to maturity.

To revert for a moment to the customs of the Paiwan and Piyuma tribes. A rather strict age-grade, or system of rank regulated according to age, seems to exist among them. The older the man or woman, the more is he, or she, held in reverence.

These tribes—and also the Tsuou, Yami, and Ami tribes—have the “bachelor-house”[60] system. That is, when a young man reaches the age of fifteen or sixteen, he is obliged to leave the home of his parents, and sleep in the bachelor-house until he is married. This bachelor-house serves as a sort of combination dormitory, military barracks, and club house. So strictly is the age-grade system observed among the Piyuma that there are two club-houses: one for boys from twelve to fifteen years of age; the other for young men over fifteen. In both bachelor-houses—that of the boys and that of the young men—the strictest discipline prevails. A certain number of youths are assigned the duty of keeping the fire supplied with wood (if the fire were allowed to go out it would be considered an omen of disaster to the tribe); others that of bringing water—which is usually carried in great bamboo tubes, borne on the shoulders. Other duties are equably apportioned. Each age-grade is supposed to obey without question the orders of those of superior age.

The reasons assigned for having the young men live apart in bachelor-houses are as various as are the reasons assigned for the other customs previously referred to. The two explanations most frequently given are: (a) that living apart makes the young men more courageous and intrepid, especially as the bachelor-houses are usually decorated with skulls of slain enemies of the tribe, or tribal group; and (b) that it makes for chastity, and also for conserving the delicacy of mind of the young women and children; that is, that the latter may be surrounded only by staid, elderly people, and thus hear no conversation unfitted for their ears.

These bachelor-houses are usually, though not invariably, built on “piles” similar to Indonesian buildings, often ten feet above ground. Entrance to these houses is by means of bamboo poles, up which the young men must climb.

One of the customs of the young bachelors among the Paiwan tribe recalls a custom of the Hawaians and other Polynesians—that is, on festal occasions they wear about their necks long garlands of flowers.

Among the Ami a more complicated age-grade system prevails. In some groups of this tribe there are ten age-grades; in others, twelve. Men and women of the same age are accorded equal privileges, greatest deference always being paid to the oldest. In some respects, the Ami may be considered the most democratic of the tribes, seniority of each in turn—rather than hereditary rank—conferring power and prestige.

With the Taiyal, each sub-group has its own chief, or “chieftainess.” With this people, however, the office seems to be more elective than hereditary, the choice usually falling upon a priestess whose ministrations have been especially successful either in driving away the rain-devil (to be spoken of more fully under the head of Religion) or in interpreting omens which have led to successful head-hunting expeditions.

The granaries, in which the year’s harvest of millet is stored, are also under the charge of women, who deal out daily supplies of millet to the women of the different families comprising the tribal group. It seems tabu for men, certainly of the Taiyal tribe, to approach very near these millet store-houses.

To just what cause the women of the Formosan aborigines owe their ascendancy it would be difficult to say. As a people the aborigines have reached the stage of “hoe-culture”—a stage which Deniker and some other anthropologists sharply differentiate from “true agriculture” (i.e. with the plough), and which usually precedes the pastoral stage, whereas “true agriculture” follows it. Certainly this precedence of order of culture is true of the Formosans (the aborigines). They have no flocks or herds, no beasts of draught or of burden; they are strictly in the “hunting stage” of civilization as regards the men; yet the women scratch the ground with a short-handled primitive hoe, and thus raise millet and sweet potatoes, besides digging away the rankest of the weeds from about the roots of the tobacco plants. Whether being concerned with the raising and storing of the staples of life—millet and sweet potatoes—and with the gathering and curing of the tobacco-leaves and the making of wine—life’s luxuries—has given women the ascendancy which they undoubtedly possess is a question. Personally I should be inclined to think it had (on the principle that he who holds the purse-strings—or the equivalent—holds the power). But Lowie, the American anthropologist, with some force of argument, warns of the danger of too hastily assuming that an agricultural stage (“hoe-culture” or other) of civilization necessarily implies “matri-potestas,” pointing out the fact that among the Andaman Islanders, who are in the most primitive “hunting stage,” women hold a far higher position than among the present agricultural peoples of India and of many other parts of the world.[61]

It may be that the “equal rights” (or superior rights) position of the aboriginal women of Formosa is due to causes partly racial, for in Guam, an island of the Marianne, or Ladrone, group also inhabited by a people evidently of Indonesian extraction, the same state of affairs seems to exist as regards the relation of the sexes. In Formosa this certainly is not due to contact with a superior race, for among both Chinese and Japanese—as is generally known—the woman is regarded as being distinctly inferior to him who is with these races very literally “lord and master.”

To whatever cause may be ascribed the dominance of the aboriginal Formosan woman in both political and religious life—closely interwoven as these are—the result seems to make for the happiness of all concerned, within the tribal group. Disputes within the group are of infrequent occurrence. When these do occur, they are almost always settled either by the queen, or chief-priestess alone, or by a “palaver” or meeting of remonstrance on the part of all the elderly women of the group. Theft within the group seems unknown among any of the tribes; this also applies to those who are accepted as guests of the tribal group. Guests are regarded by them as friends, and the fidelity in friendship of these “NaturvÖlker” is touching; as is also their point of view regarding the sacredness of a promise. This is especially true of the Taiyal and the other mountain tribes who have come but little into contact with either Chinese or Japanese.

Regarding property rights among the Chin-huan (primitive or “green” savages): all the members of each tribal group hold in common both hunting-grounds and the grounds used for the cultivation of millet, sweet potatoes, and tobacco—and more recently rice, since this has been introduced by the Japanese. No dispute in connection with communal property ever seems to arise. It is understood that each man who is physically able will take part in the hunting, and thus contribute his share toward keeping the group supplied with meat. Equally it is understood that every woman not ill or aged will take part in the cultivation, harvesting, and storing of food-stuffs. Millet and sweet potatoes are kept in common store-houses, and—as explained in another connection—these are given out by women who have charge of the store-houses to the woman-head of each family, as she may have need of them. The scheme of “from each according to his ability, to each according to his need” seems to work successfully and without friction among these people.

The only commodity, apparently, which among them is used as currency is salt; and this has been recently introduced by the Japanese. Among those who have never come into contact with the Japanese—that is, those in the inaccessible mountain regions—it is said still to be unknown.[62]

As regards the system of counting in vogue among them, in connection with barter and otherwise, the Chin-huan—excluding those of the Ami and Paiwan tribes, who live on or near the coast, and who have been for some time in contact with the Chinese and Japanese—still count by “hands”: that is, one hand equals five; two hands, ten, etc. Or, occasionally, by a “man”; the latter, one learns in time, being equivalent to twenty, that is, the number of fingers and toes, taken together, belonging to each man.

A striking feature of the social organization of the aborigines is their strict monogamy and their marital fidelity for the duration of the marriage.[63] This custom is in marked contrast with that of many other primitive races—Africans, Australians, Mongols, American Indians: also with that of other Malay and Oceanic peoples, and most of all with that of the Chinese and Japanese. One of the latter, a government official in Formosa, with whom I was thrown into contact in connection with my expeditions into savage territory, pitied the seban (savages) for not having a social organization sufficiently highly developed to have room within it for a geisha system (that of professional singing and dancing girls) and that of a yoshiwara, the latter term being too well known in connection with Japanese cities to make explanation or definition necessary.

Among the “green savages”—those who have not come into close touch with the Chinese and Japanese—adultery is punished with death, an unfaithful husband suffering the same punishment as an unfaithful wife; and prostitution is unknown.