Durkheim on Elementary
Forms of Religion
This excerpt is the first section of the Introduction
to Emile Durkheim's 1912 The Elementary
Forms of Religious Life, from the 1915
Joseph Swain translation (London: George Allen & Unwin), with that
edition's pagination. The book, one of the most influential works of early
20th century social science, is cast in the evolutionary mould of all his
work, and is the follow-up to a long article published by himself and Marcel
Mauss in 1899 which is available as Primitive
Classification. The book examines Australian
Aboriginal clanship, totemism, and religious practice in detail, in order
to understand all religion.
Introduction: Subject of Our Study:
Religious Sociology and the Theory of Knowledge
In this book we propose to study the most
primitive and simple religion which is actually known, to make an analysis
of it, and to attempt an explanation of it. A religious system may be said
to be the most primitive which we can observe when it fulfils the two following
conditions: in the first place, when it is found in a society whose organization
is surpassed by no others in simplicity;* and secondly, when it is possible
to explain it without making use of any element borrowed from a previous
religion.
*In
the same way, we shall say of these societies that they are primitive,
and we shall call the men of these societies primitives. Undoubtedly the
expression lacks precision, but that is hardly evitable, and besides, when
we have taken pains to fix the meaning, it is not inconvenient.
We shall set ourselves to describe the organization
of this system with all the exactness and fidelity that an ethnographer
or an historian could give it. But our task will not be limited to that;
sociology raises other problems than history or ethnography. It does not
seek to know the past forms of civilization with the sole end of knowing
them and reconstructing them. But rather, like every positive science,
it has as its object the explanation of some actual reality which is near
to us, and which consequently is capable of affecting our ideas and our
acts: this reality is man, and more precisely, the man of today, for there
is nothing which we are more interested in knowing. Then we are not going
to study a very archaic religion simply for the pleasure of telling its
peculiarities and its singularities. If we have taken
2
it as the subject of our research, it is because it has seemed to us better
adapted than any other to lead to an understanding of the religious nature
of man, that is to say, to show us an essential and permanent aspect of
humanity.
But this proposition is not accepted before the
raising of strong objections. It seems very strange that one must turn
back, and be transported to the very beginnings of history in order to
arrive at an understanding of humanity as it is at present. This manner
of procedure seems particularly paradoxical in the question which concerns
us. In fact, the various religions generally pass as being quite unequal
in value and dignity; it is said that they do not all contain the same
quota of truth. Then it seems as though one could not compare the highest
forms of religious thought with the lowest, without reducing the first
to the level of the second. If we admit that the crude cults of the Australian
tribes can help us to understand Christianity, for example, is that not
supposing that this latter religion proceeds from the same mentality as
the former, that it is made up of the same superstitions and rests upon
the same errors? This is how the theoretical importance which has sometimes
been attributed to primitive religions has come to pass as a sign of a
systematic hostility to all religion, which, by prejudging the results
of the study, vitiates them in advance.
There is no occasion for asking here whether or
not there are scholars who have merited this reproach, and who have made
religious history and ethnology a weapon against religion. In any case,
a sociologist cannot hold such a point of view. In fact, it is an essential
postulate of sociology that a human institution cannot rest upon an error
and a lie, without which it could not exist. If it were not founded in
the nature of things, it would have encountered in the facts a resistance
over which it could never have triumphed. So when we commence the study
of primitive religions, it is with the assurance that they hold to reality
and express it; this principle will be seen to re-enter again and again
in the course of the analyses and discussions which follow, and the reproach
which we make against the schools from which we have separated ourselves
is that they have ignored it. When only the letter of the formulae is considered,
these religious beliefs and practices undoubtedly seem disconcerting at
times, and one is tempted to attribute them to some sort of a deep-rooted
error. But one must know how to go underneath the symbol to the reality
which it represents and which gives it its meaning. The most barbarous
and the most fantastic rites and the strangest myths translate some human
need, some aspect of life, either individual or social. The reasons with
which the
3
faithful justify them may be, and generally are, erroneous; but the true
reasons do not cease to exist, and it is the duty of science to discover
them.
In reality, then, there are no religions which are
false. All are true in their own fashion; all answer, though in different
ways, to the given conditions of human existence. It is undeniably possible
to arrange them in a hierarchy. Some can be called superior to others,
in the sense that they call into play higher mental functions, that they
are richer in ideas and sentiments, that they contain more concepts with
fewer sensations and images, and that their arrangement is wiser. But howsoever
real this greater complexity and this higher ideality may be, they are
not sufficient to place the corresponding religions in different classes.
All are religions equally, just as all living beings are equally alive,
from the most humble plastids up to man. So when we turn to primitive religions
it is not with the idea of depreciating religion in general, for these
religions are no less respectable than the others. They respond to the
same needs, they play the same role, they depend upon the same causes;
they can also well serve to show the nature of the religious life, and
consequently to resolve the problem which we wish to study.
But why give them a sort of prerogative? Why choose
them in preference to all others as the subject of our study? It is merely
for reasons of method.
In the first place, we cannot arrive at an understanding
of the most recent religions except by following the manner in which they
have been progressively composed in history. In fact, historical analysis
is the only means of explanation which it is possible to apply to them.
It alone enables us to resolve an institution into its constituent elements,
for it shows them to us as they are born in time, one after another. On
the other hand, by placing every one of them in the condition where it
was born, it puts into our hands the only means we have of determining
the causes which gave rise to it. Every time that we undertake to explain
something human, taken at a given moment in history -be it a religious
belief, a moral precept, a legal principle, an aesthetic style or an economic
system- it is necessary to commence by going back to its most primitive
and simple form, to try to account for the characteristics by which it
was marked at that time, and then to show how it developed and became complicated
little by little, and how it became that which it is at the moment in question.
One readily understands the importance which the determination of the point
of departure has for this series of progressive explanations for all the
others are attached to it. It was
4
one of Descartes's principles that the first ring has a predominating place
in the chain of scientific truths. But there is no question of placing
at the foundation of the science of religions an idea elaborated after
the cartesian manner, that is to say, a logical concept, a pure possibility,
constructed simply by force of thought. What we must find is a concrete
reality, and historical and ethnological observation alone can reveal that
to us. But even if this cardinal conception is obtained by a different
process than that of Descartes, it remains true that it is destined to
have a considerable influence on the whole series of propositions which
the science establishes. Biological evolution has been conceived quite
differently ever since it has been known that monocellular beings do exist.
In the same way, the arrangement of religious facts is explained quite
differently, according as we put naturism, animism or some other religious
form at the beginning of the evolution. Even the most specialized scholars,
if they are unwilling to confine themselves to a task of pure erudition,
and if they desire to interpret the facts which they analyse, are obliged
to choose one of these hypotheses, and make it their starting-point. Whether
they desire it or not, the questions which they raise necessarily take
the following form: how has naturism or animism been led to take this particular
form, here or there, or to enrich itself or impoverish itself in such and
such a fashion? Since it is impossible to avoid taking sides on this initial
problem, and since the solution given is destined to affect the whole science,
it must be attacked at the outset: that is what we propose to do.
Besides this, outside of these indirect reactions,
the study of primitive religions has of itself an immediate interest which
is of primary importance.
If it is useful to know what a certain particular
religion consists in, it is still more important to know what religion
in general is. This is the problem which has aroused the interest of philosophers
in all times; and not without reason, for it is of interest to all humanity.
Unfortunately, the method which they generally employ is purely dialectic:
they confine themselves to analysing the idea which they make for themselves
of religion, except as they illustrate the results of this mental analysis
by examples borrowed from the religions which best realize their ideal.
But even if this method ought to be abandoned, the problem remains intact,
and the great service of philosophy is to have prevented its being suppressed
by the disdain of scholars. Now it is possible to attack it in a different
way. Since all religions can be compared to each other, and since all are
species of the same class, there are necessarily many elements which are
common to all. We do not mean to speak simply of the outward and visible
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characteristics which they all have equally, and which make it possible
to give them a provisional definition from the very outset of our researches;
the discovery of these apparent signs is relatively easy, for the observation
which it demands does not go beneath the surface of things. But these external
resemblances suppose others which are profound. At the foundation of all
systems of beliefs and of all cults there ought necessarily to be a certain
number of fundamental representations or conceptions and of ritual attitudes
which, in spite of the diversity of forms which they have taken, have the
same objective significance and fulfil the same functions everywhere. These
are the permanent elements which constitute that which is permanent and
human in religion; they form all the objective contents of the idea which
is expressed when one speaks of religion in general. How is it possible
to pick them out?
Surely it is not by observing the complex religions
which appear in the course of history. Every one of these is made up of
such a variety of elements that it is very difficult to distinguish what
is secondary from what is principal, the essential from the accessory.
Suppose that the religion considered is like that of Egypt, India or the
classical antiquity. It is a confused mass of many cults, varying according
to the locality, the temples, the generations, the dynasties, the invasions,
etc. Popular superstitions are there confused with the purest dogmas. Neither
the thought nor the activity of the religion is evenly distributed among
the believers; according to the men, the environment and the circumstances,
the beliefs as well as the rites are thought of in different ways. Here
they are priests, there they are monks, elsewhere they are laymen; there
are mystics and rationalists, theologians and prophets, etc. In these conditions
it is difficult to see what is common to all. In one or another of these
systems it is quite possible to find the means of making a profitable study
of some particular fact which is specially developed there, such as sacrifice
or prophecy, monasticism or the mysteries; but how is it possible to find
the common foundation of the religious life underneath the luxuriant vegetation
which covers it? How is it possible to find, underneath the disputes of
theology, the variations of ritual, the multiplicity of groups and the
diversity of individuals, the fundamental states characteristic of religious
mentality in general?
Things are quite different in the lower societies.
The slighter development of individuality, the small extension of the group,
the homogeneity of external circumstances, all contribute to reducing the
differences and variations to a minimum. The group has an intellectual
and moral conformity of which we find
6
but rare examples in the more advanced societies. Everything is common
to all. Movements are stereotyped; everybody performs the same ones in
the same circumstances, and this conformity of conduct only translates
the conformity of thought. Every mind being drawn into the same eddy, the
individual type nearly confounds itself with that of the race. And while
all is uniform, all is simple as well. Nothing is deformed like these myths,
all composed of one and the same theme which is endlessly repeated, or
like these rites made up of a small number of gestures repeated again and
again. Neither the popular imagination nor that of the priests has had
either the time or the means of refining and transforming the original
substance of the religious ideas and practices; these are shown in all
their nudity, and offer them selves to an examination, it requiring only
the slightest effort to lay them open. That which is accessory or secondary,
the development of luxury, has not yet come to hide the principal elements.*
All is reduced to that which is indispensable, to that without which there
could be no religion. But that which is indispensable is also that which
is essential, that is to say, that which we must know before all else.
*But
that is not equivalent to saying that all luxury is lacking to the primitive
cults. On the contrary, we shall see that in every religion there are beliefs
and practices which do not aim at strictly utilitarian ends (Bk. III, ch.
iv, § 2). This luxury is indispensable to the religious life; it is
at its very heart. But it is much more rudimentary in the inferior religions
than in the others, so we are better able to determine its reason for existence
here.
Primitive civilizations offer privileged cases,
then, because they are simple cases. That is why, in all fields of human
activity, the observations of ethnologists have frequently been veritable
revelations, which have renewed the study of human institutions. For example,
before the middle of the nineteenth century, everybody was convinced that
the father was the essential element of the family; no one had dreamed
that there could be a family organization of which the paternal authority
was not the keystone. But the discovery of Bachofen came and upset this
old conception. Up to very recent times it was regarded as evident that
the moral and legal relations of kindred were only another aspect of the
psychological relations which result from a common descent; Bachofen and
his successors, MacLennan, Morgan and many others still laboured under
this misunderstanding. But since we have become acquainted with the nature
of the primitive clan, we know that, on the contrary, relationships cannot
be explained by consanguinity. To return to religions, the study of only
the most familiar ones had led men to believe for a long time that the
idea of god was characteristic of everything that is religious. Now the
religion which we are going to study presently
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is, in a large part, foreign to all idea of divinity; the forces to which
the rites are there addressed are very different from those which occupy
the leading place in our modern religions, yet they aid us in understanding
these latter forces. So nothing is more unjust than the disdain with which
too many historians still regard the work of ethnographers. Indeed, it
is certain that ethnology has frequently brought about the most fruitful
revolutions in the different branches of sociology. It is for this same
reason that the discovery of unicellular beings, of which we just spoke,
has transformed the current idea of life. Since in these very simple beings,
life is reduced to its essential traits, these are less
easily misunderstood.
But primitive religions do not merely aid us in
disengaging the constituent elements of religion; they also have the great
advantage that they facilitate the explanation of it. Since the facts there
are simpler, the relations between them are more apparent. The reasons
with which men account for their acts have not yet been elaborated and
denatured by studied reflection; they are nearer and more closely related
to the motives which have really determined these acts. In order to understand
an hallucination perfectly, and give it its most appropriate treatment,
a physician must know its original point of departure. Now this event is
proportionately easier to find if he can observe it near its beginnings.
The longer the disease is allowed to develop, the more it evades observation:
that is because all sorts of interpretations have intervened as it advanced,
which tend to force the original state into the background, and across
which it is frequently difficult to find the initial one. Between a systematized
hallucination and the first impressions which gave it birth, the distance
is often considerable. It is the same thing with religious thought. In
proportion as it progresses in history, the causes which called it into
existence, though remaining active, are no longer perceived, except across
a vast scheme of interpretations which quite transform them. Popular mythologies
and subtile [sic] theologies have done their work: they have superimposed
upon the primitive sentiments others which are quite different, and which,
though holding to the first, of which they are an elaborated form, only
allow their true nature to appear very imperfectly. The psychological gap
between the cause and the effect, between the apparent cause and the effective
cause, has become more considerable and more difficult for the mind to
leap. The remainder of this book will be an illustration and a verification
of this remark on method. It will be seen how, in the primitive religions,
the religious fact still visibly carries the mark of its origins: it would
have been well-nigh impossible
8
to infer them merely from the study of the more developed religions.
The study which we are undertaking is therefore
a way of taking up again, but under new conditions, the old problem
of the origin of religion. To be sure, if by origin we are to understand
the very first beginning, the question has nothing scientific about it,
and should be resolutely discarded. There was no given moment when religion
began to exist, and there is consequently no need of finding a means of
transporting ourselves thither in thought. Like every human institution,
religion did not commence anywhere. Therefore, all speculations of this
sort are justly discredited; they can only consist in subjective and arbitrary
constructions which are subject to no sort of control. But the problem
which we raise is quite another one. What we want to do is to find a means
of discerning the ever-present causes upon which the most essential forms
of religious thought and practice depend. Now for the reasons which were
just set forth, these causes are proportionately more easily observable
as the societies where they are observed are less complicated. That is
why we try to get as near as possible to the origins.* It is not
that we ascribe particular virtues to the lower religions. On the contrary,
they are rudimentary and gross; we cannot make of them a sort of model
which later religions only have to reproduce. But even their grossness
makes them instructive, for they thus become convenient for experiments,
as in them, the facts and their relations are easily seen. In order to
discover the laws of the phenomena which he studies, the physicist tries
to simplify these and rid them of their secondary characteristics. For
that which concerns institutions, nature spontaneously makes the same sort
of simplifications at the beginning of history. We merely wish to put these
to profit. Undoubtedly we can only touch very elementary facts by this
method. When we shall have accounted for them as far as possible, the novelties
of every sort which have been produced in the course of evolution will
not yet be explained. But while we do not dream of denying the importance
of the problems thus raised, we think that they will profit by being treated
in their turn, and that it is important to take them up only after those
of which we are going to undertake the study at present.
*It is seen that we give a wholly
relative sense to this word "origins" just as to the word "primitive."
By it we do not mean an absolute beginning, but the most simple social
condition that is actually known or that beyond which we cannot go at present.
When we speak of the origins or of the commencement of religious history
or thought, it is in this sense that our statements should he understood.
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