Participating Observers

As Roland L. Grimes makes note of in his essay, “Performance theory and the Study of Religion,” Geertz was acutely aware of the ideological gap between a participant’s understanding of religious ritual and an observer’s (Grimes 111). Great—but I would like to know how much of this awareness was dependent on Geertz first being able to classify himself as an “outsider” to the ritual(s) he was studying. I wonder, for example, what happens to this consciousness if the particular “insider/outsider” dichotomy of ritual is not easily discerned? Is it always possible to distinguish between an observer and a participant? Can one simultaneously be both? If so, what would such a position look like? What kind(s) of scholarship would it produce? Would these academic writings resemble any part(s) of this week’s readings?

The more that I think about the writings of Grimes, Bell and Mahmood, the more I am prompted to ask these types of questions. This week, I have begun to wonder more about the observer than the observed.

In saying this, I do not mean to undermine my interest in “participants” or ritual itself. Embedded within these articles are studies that help me articulate some of what I find so fascinating about the cult of the celebrity in North America and its religious overtones. For example, Bell’s discussion of daily incense offerings and Chinese ancestor worship provides a particular contribution to a broader avenue of study concerning the relationship between popular cultural practice and religious ritual. To what extent can the two be separated and categorized as independent? Where, as many have asked (and continue to ask), does “social morality” end and “real […] religion” begin (Bell 213)? Similarly, Mahmood’s detailed analysis of how female Muslims approach prayer in Egypt serves as an intellectual springboard to discussions about religion and the emotions, and how certain personal, interior landscapes come to be identified as “sacred” or “spiritual” when acted-out or made physically manifest (Mahmood 839). If we must re-evaluate what is “conventional” and “disingenuous” in the “space” created by ritual, what might we be able to categorize as “ritual” that we currently do not (828)? How might this change our definitions of “sacred” activity and will this change work to mythologize the concept of a “secular” realm?

In spite of the way in which I find these questions relevant to my own area of study, they do not strike me in the same way that I am struck by some of the comments made in this week’s articles regarding the various acts/positions of the observer. These are the comments that agitate me. I know that this is partly because I initially felt that they were detracting from discussions of what is “really interesting” about ritual (i.e. the participants and ritual itself). Now I am bothered by them because I cannot shake the feeling that they too are what is “really interesting” about ritual. I would be happier learning about (and writing about) actual ritual practices and the communities who find them meaningful. Yet, to limit citizenship in these communities to participants would be unjustified. Grimes, Bell and Mahmood are slowly teaching me that those who study ritual must also be allowed to legitimately inhabit these spaces.

While there are several comments in the three articles that I find help me to understand these spaces, I would like to mention two in particular. Both appear in the Grimes article and when read in conjunction with one another, posit new questions and answers. The first statement is offered as a paraphrase of the definitions that Geertz assigns to “participants” and “observers.” Grimes says, “For participants, [ritual] performance is a religious rite, while for an observer it is a mere entertaining spectacle, an aesthetic form. For observers, these performances may be ‘models of’ what participants believe, but for participants these performances may be ‘models for’ what they believe; they have prescriptive force” (Grimes 111). I find these distinctions helpful in that they cogently outline how participants and observers both experience and identify ritual performance differently. I find these distinctions bothersome in the kind of language that is used to describe the observers’ position. The phrase “mere entertaining spectacle,” is an especially suggestive one. Admittedly, it might not have been intentionally employed to underline a callous approach of ritual outsiders. Perhaps it was meant to sound light-hearted. Why “mere,” though? Couched within that one word is the evocation of a whole host of implications that seek to undermine. For me, “mere” informs “entertaining” and “spectacle,” making it more likely for these terms to be read negatively. The distance or distinction between participants and observers that subsequently opens up is characterized by Goffman’s “hermeneutics of suspicion” (112-113).

I do not think that being suspicious of things that I do not or cannot understand is entirely wrong. I do not think that it is entirely right, though, when this suspicion ignores the possibility that others might understand that which I do not or cannot. Thankfully, Grimes agrees. He says, “There is nothing wrong with suspicion […] But if suspicion and debunking are the only postures that observers and interpreters assume, the attitude becomes self-consuming and forecloses the possibility of genuine interaction between ritual performers and ritual theorists” (Grimes 113). What I am really interested in in this statement is the “genuine interaction” that Grimes advocates between participants and observers. To a certain extent, this interaction legitimates the position of the observer. S/he is meant to provide a critical perspective on ritual performance that will lend itself to exposing “the exploitive,” disingenuous elements of rites (Grimes 113). This is, I feel, an important component of understanding ritual. And yet, the extent to which this “genuine interaction” will require the observer to forfeit his/her view of ritual as “a mere entertaining spectacle” is a question that I am left with. In this vein of thought, I want to expand upon my initial line of questioning regarding the independence of the participant/observer position and just ask: Can responsible observers risk excluding themselves from all forms of meaningful participation? Moreover, can responsible participants risk excluding themselves from all forms of meaningful observation? If not, how do they negotiate the space to observe and participate meaningfully? What will this look like and how will we know for sure that we see evidence of it in scholarship?