Chapter 22

A couple of years ago, I happened to be on one of the Tokelau islands on a Sunday. When I asked if I could go to church, this was the reply: “Really? You want to go to church? That’s funny, because you people turned up here a hundred years ago and made us all go to church – but now most of you go snorkeling on Sundays!” Far from being offended, I was actually delighted with this barbed response, which demonstrated an acute awareness of the European tendency towards drive-by proselytising. The blatant anger seemed entirely appropriate. In fact, considering the rape (physical, cultural, psychological), plunder (physical, environmental) and slavery (actual) perpetrated on the Tokelauans (and other peoples of the South Pacific) by early European visitors, I thought my white ass was getting off very lightly. In the same vein, it strikes me that an essential starting point for what I consider to be a healthy and desirable mission – that of reconnecting the conscious part of the Samoan psyche with deeply buried sacred knowledge – is to first and foremost connect with the natural anger that accompanies any experience of abuse or trickery. I wish this anger could be brought forth now, expressed loudly and freely today, as Professor Wendt has often done. But Samoans are polite people who eschew direct complaint. I find that – at least in my presence – anger towards their colonisers is usually repressed or redirected to other targets.

I am a psychodynamic psychologist. In my paradigm there is a Jungian phenomenon known as the ‘collective unconscious’ – a deeply held, essential understanding that is common to a whole group, race or society of people who created, passed on and shared that understanding.235 The deep truths of a collective unconscious cannot be eradicated by the acceptance of new intellectual or even spiritual beliefs; they will remain hidden beneath the upper layers of conscious thought, but they are still capable of influencing that society in a mysterious and sometimes troubling fashion.

I perceive within the Samoan psyche an unconscious mourning for cultural losses (which may eventually be made more conscious). Appropriately directed anger is also biding its time. And this disconnect between the lip service given to a foreign religion and the collective unconsciousness containing earlier creation stories and other profound pre-Christian beliefs, may even be promoting antisocial behaviour in Samoan society. Let me hypothesise a bit.

After spending a lot of time in Samoa, I became aware of the uniquely Samoan way in which the human shadow (again, I am talking in Jungian terms) is denied and rejected. This refusal to meet one’s dark side – indeed, a refusal to believe it even exists – can be unhealthy and dangerous, because if we do not understand our shadow, we cannot control it and it will surely trip us up. As Dr Jung put it:

When the individual remains undivided and does not become conscious of his inner opposite, the world must perforce act out the conflict and be torn into opposing halves.236

Christianity tends to teach fairly polarised notions of human behaviour and prospects – good/evil, heaven/hell – including the idea that we can and should aspire to absolute purity. But in my paradigm, those who lack the ability to acknowledge their extremely high potential for even the worst of human foibles – including rage, murder, corruption, savagery and sexual misconduct – are more likely to engage in those very practices. Take the enacted violence that erupts here in Samoa from time to time. There are countless possible reasons for such incidents, but some may be unconscious.

Staying overnight in certain Samoan villages, I have found myself cowering in the dark as machetes scrape on the pavement outside – and I know the human shadows are out in force. Samoan society – like every other place on earth – has an underbelly of violence, but it makes sense to me that here, frequent explosions of uncontrolled shadow behaviour may be directly related to the unconsciously mourned mysteries of the Samoan pre-Christian culture, traditions and religion. You see, in reality the legends and parables of that early religion may well have held vitally important meaning, teaching, solace and calming that were specifically developed as the tools of social ordering for a warrior nation. Christian ‘taming’ when it arrived was a more artificial controlling mechanism, one that placed beatific smiles on the faces of a people who sought to identify with their new, bible-wielding aggressors. (‘Identifying with the aggressor’ is a defence mechanism, as seen for example when a captured political hostage embraces the ideology of his captor). Who, in truth, were impregnated with seeds of discontent that have borne a crop of deep-seated rage? The rituals, stories, chants, parables, beliefs and spiritual practices of pre-Christian Samoa had developed over many, many centuries, carefully tailored for that particular society’s needs – including policing and self-protection – and all that was so rapidly lost.

Now, at this point I want to point out that, having read numerous accounts of early missionary experiences about the dangers they faced – treacherous sea voyages with hurricanes and whirlpools, disease, physical attacks, hostile receptions and so on – I am filled with admiration for their bravery and dedication. No doubt they believed wholeheartedly that in ‘saving the poor savages’, as some put it, they had ‘right’ on their side. But in my opinion, the style of their efforts was unfortunate to say the least. Of course, Christian thinking on missionary style has thankfully moved on from those days and I understand it is now considered desirable to preserve cultures rather than to axe them. But in the 19th century, the arrival of Christian missionaries on new soil, and the subsequent changes that occurred if their mission was successful, usually followed a pattern. First, local mistrust, but once there had been a winning over (and let’s not forget these visitors were top-notch salespeople) there was an elated welcoming and embrace of the new. This was followed by a period of enormous change and then a honeymoon period, which in many Pacific nations lasted around 150 years, until western societies began to enter their post-Christian eras. That’s when the penny dropped for a number of converted Pacific nations and a new, independent style of thinking began to emerge, sometimes accompanied by overt fury at what had been lost. Until now, however, this fury has not occurred in Samoa and I wonder why.

Superficially, of course, it may simply be that Samoans are more comfortable with change than other societies (or, as a high Samoan official once suggested to me, that they are more adept at apparently accepting a new regime while secretly doing exactly what they please!). On a deeper level, it could be that open complaint about the eradication of Samoan religion and culture would serve to beg the question: “Why were we so ready to ditch our old beliefs?” In turn this might arouse the highly painful shame and regret that often accompanies a realisation of victimhood. I suspect these deep emotions would be even more acutely painful if it were perceived that certain Samoan high chiefs who led and ordered the Christian conversions were themselves among the (unwitting) perpetrators of cultural thievery. This is all deep stuff, and I expect there to be a certain amount of outrage, denial and anger at my suggestions. I am, after all, an outsider, and the only papālagi in the retreat group. What right do I have to make such distasteful suggestions? None at all! If I cause offence I humbly apologise; I simply offer a different perspective.

I am intrigued by the notions of the contrasting tala tu’umumusu and tala taumusumusu. It occurrs to me that when both types of whispers emanate from the same lips on the same subject – as quite often happens – it constitutes hypocrisy. And surely there’s none of that in Samoan society! (I hear you snickering …). In some ways, the culture of whispers reminds me of the European habit of hiding the truth about Santa Claus (as in, if you spoil the myth for your children too early, they’ll never trust you again). I sense that there is some fear about what will happen when His Highness Tui Atua’s paper and the commentaries about it are published. If the tapu regarding Samoa’s pre-Christian religion was lifted, I imagine it actually might be more like telling your children that you and your spouse are divorcing: they’d roll their eyes and retort that they already knew it was on the cards (although their bratty behaviour would be a prelude to many tears and a terrible sense of uncertainty). Perhaps our worry is largely about the fear of disappointing and betraying. And of course, in this instance, “Sorry we didn’t tell you this before …” really doesn’t cover it.

While it may seem patronising or belittling to draw an analogy between Santa Claus and Christianity, I defend it because I sense that the respect and comprehension afforded to the intelligentsia in Samoan society, particularly the pillars of the Christian church, do not necessarily trickle down to lay people. They are often portrayed as a childlike ‘flock’ (I dare not openly cross-analogise to the animal kingdom) incapable of complex thought. Is this not where the nub of the palatable fear regarding the release of Tui Atua’s excellent paper lies? Yet psychologists know from studies that all human beings are capable of holding two opposing beliefs in their heads: fact and fiction, political dogma and personal understanding, religious creed and alternative legend. What would really happen if those tapu in question were lifted? Would the sky actually fall in?

I was really taken by the fagogo about a woman mating with the sun. It struck me that the Christian missionaries of the early 1900s would have considered this to be one of the most dangerous of the early Samoan religious stories – even more threatening than the Tagaloa creation story – because it involves dominant female sexuality. No wonder it was buried!

Throughout much of European history – as was seen during the witch hunts – strong, assertive, sexually confident women have been feared, despised, punished and even put to death. In fact, I believe that the suppression of this marvellous parable of a woman – who first successfully rejects the approach of a powerful deity and then wilfully initiates a sexual approach and consummation – is tantamount to a passive witch hunt. In pre-Christian Samoa, women clearly appear to have had status as strong sexual beings who could be the architects of their own erotic fate. This story also taught men they would be rewarded for not forcing themselves on women. In other words, this wonderful story both protects and validates women. Look at the contrast with Greek mythology, where Zeus, the father of the gods, was always putting on some disguise and raping mortal nymphs. How tragic that this fagogo has been buried, especially in light of the issues of rape and sexual coercion in contemporary Samoan society. It could have been a vital teaching parable for many generations.

And since my own focus of gender studies here in Samoa has been to do with the fa’afafine and fa’afatama population, I would also like to point out that fa’afafine at least enjoyed high status in those early times, until they received the censure of missionaries who did not understand the difference between sex and gender.237 This too, in my opinion, has been highly detrimental not just to the fa’afafine population, but to Samoan society as a whole – although it must be said that the level of acceptance for biologically male, gender-liminal people in Samoa is exemplary compared to that in most western countries. I have found many instances of the rape of young (usually underage) fa’afafine by mature Samoan males. Since fa’afafine present as females, I imagine both perpetrators and victims can also benefit from the lessons held in this fagogo. Likewise, the unfortunate marginalisation and suicidality among the understandably secretive population of fa’afatama might equally be assuaged.

As a passionate scuba diver who has shared the deep ocean with thousands of sharks (including reef sharks, nurse sharks, whale sharks and, more recently, with Great White Sharks in South Australia), I was enthralled by this story and its lesson of respect for these incredible creatures. It is so far removed from the devastating treatment, such as finning, they receive today. Ninety percent of the world’s shark population has already been destroyed, and they are not yet even on the endangered species list. The naiufi story is then a vital parable for our time. The question of overseas fishing interests in Samoan waters is contentious, but suffice to say that this is another very clear instance where bringing the beliefs and behaviours of the past out into the open, to inform and teach present and future generations, is a vital task. This story too should be told. It teaches about the importance of preserving species and our marine environment.

White traders and colonisers brought an unhealthy diet to Samoa. They profited from passing off white rice as superior to taro, refined sugar as desirable, and non-nutritious ‘convenience foods’ as better than the traditional Samoan diet. They brought high fat, high sodium foods such as mutton flaps, turkey tails and all kinds of substandard fare that most westerners wouldn’t touch – and they left a legacy of diabetes, hypertension and obesity among a people whose natural diet was healthier and more appropriate. Likewise, the gap between imported western medicine and Samoan traditional medicine is wide, and very little research has been done to define what aspects of the latter may well be beneficial, not just for Samoa but for the world’s population of human beings. Much of this early knowledge seems to have been lost and much is currently scorned. Engendering a greater level of respect for Samoan indigenous healing traditions, herbalism and shamanism, might just turn out to be a boon, again not just for Samoa but for all humankind.

The fishbone account illustrates, in particular, the truism that healing for any given society is highly dependent on that society’s beliefs. In other words, in a significant proportion of illnesses throughout the world there are varying levels of psychosomatic elements at play. If, for each culture, the interface between mind and body has psycho-bio-social underpinnings, who are we to question the apparent (non)sense of removing a fishbone by fanning or facing the wind? Let us be reminded that every drug licensed for the western market, after rigorous double-blind studies, is nevertheless blessed by some level of placebo effect. And, no matter how many scientific degrees a western-trained doctor holds, she or he still heals partly by the power of positive suggestion – or she or he fails because it is lacking.

Tui Atua’s account of pre-Christian Samoan sexuality led me to marvel at a society that enjoyed the kind of healthy sexual attitudes, behaviours and beliefs that modern sex therapists wish for their clients. That is, a thorough understanding of sexual techniques, pride in their own bodies, a comfort with their own individual sexuality, good sex education and a focus on giving and receiving pleasure. I spent many years in my California practice trying to help sexually-disordered patients, with ingrained, negative sexual attitudes, achieve such sexual enlightenment – and I frequently failed!

Above all, in pre-Christian Samoa it seems there was a generally positive attitude towards sexuality. It was perceived as healthy, fun and to be enjoyed by all adults, including the older generation. I bet there were a few problems too, but this was the opposite of the ‘Lie back and think of England’ attitude imported here in the 19th century. Sadly, at that point, Samoan people learned to feel shame about their bodies and followed missionary-influenced instructions to cover up. They were taught that sex was sinful except in marriage, when it could move up a notch to being tolerated. Even then, in line with 19th century European prudishness, particularly for women, it had to be endured rather than enjoyed.

The sa’ē dance is fascinating. It appears to have been a dramatic and erotic prelude to a public orgy, which again demonstrates that this was a society with few sexual inhibitions. It is not clear from this account exactly what its main purpose was – were the virgins publically deflowered towards the end of the dance? Nevertheless, it appears to have existed partly as a teaching mechanism to inspire and arouse sexual neophytes. I doubt, however, that this dance suggested a totally ‘free love’ approach in early Samoan society. The very fact that specific sexual rituals were in place implies that such liberal public behaviour and genital display occurred only within those special contexts. Of course, the notions that sexual organs are symbols of divinity and power (as in the extraordinary Salelesi va’a rituals), and that sex is connected with sacredness, are shared with a number of societies throughout the world. It is interesting to me that the public, ritualistic acting out of these ideas is also found in the Hindu religion, where certain Tantric practices involve public sex, and a striving for heightened spirituality through sexual practices.

Now to the ‘ava song. I can just imagine what wonderful, erotic fun must have been afoot when the verse of this song was chanted – perhaps, as His Highness has suggested, when the ‘aumāga (untitled men’s guild) and aualuma (daughters of the village guild) got together. Whoopee! Even the early poet’s awareness of the colour-change that occurs during female genital engorgement is something that modern, inhibited people (those who only like to ‘do it’ in the dark) would not necessarily recognise. By way of a complete contrast with that ancient, poetic celebration of a woman’s genital colour-change that signals readiness for sex, early this year (January 2010) I was alerted to a new sexual enhancement product that has arrived on the contemporary western market. It’s called “My New Pink Button” and is described as a “genital cosmetic colorant” that apparently “restores the ‘pink’ back to a [white] woman’s genitals”. So the natural changes in hue to a woman’s vulva due to age, childbirth, etc., are now being publicly pathologised for the sake of commerce, giving modern women yet another reason to hate their bodies!

The early Samoan poem quoted by Tui Atua in his paper is a beacon of appreciation for what is natural and attractive in female sexual biology. I prefer the earlier use of the word ‘cunt’. In the right context the word is earthy and sexy and, if used to describe my own body part in a welcome situation, it is sweet, tender and exciting to my ears. Then again, like any other word, it can become a weapon … as can the word ‘prick’.

In conclusion, there is much to admire in Tui Atua’s brave and thoughtful paper. In my opinion, he need not apologise, either for its content or for the fact that he took his time in putting these thoughts to paper. To me, the timing seems right, although that doesn’t mean the process ahead will not be tough or painful. I feel extremely privileged to have been included in the gestation period for what will undoubtedly be a moment of new awakening for this extraordinary society.

235 Jung, C.G. (1968). The archetypes and the collective unconscious (R.F.C. Hull, Trans.) (2nd edition). Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.

236 This is a well-known quote, sourced from Jung, C.G. (1979). Aion: Researches into the phenomenology of the self (Collected works of C.G. Jung), volume 9, part 2. (G. Adler and R.F.C. Hull, Trans.). Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.

237 These three conference papers offer examples of this work: Connolly, P. (2003, February). The Fa’afafine and Fa’afatama of Samoa: an Inquiry Concerning Environmentally Influenced Gender Reassignment and New Psychosocial Challenges. Paper presented at the World Congress on Sexology, Havana, Cuba; Connolly, P. (2003, 10 June). What Can We Learn from the Fa’afafine and Fa’afatama of Samoa? Workshop presented at the Annual Conference of the American Association of Sex Educators, Counselors and Therapists, Las Vegas, U.S.A.; Connolly, P. (2003, September). Transgendered Peoples of Samoa, Tonga and India: Diversity of psychosocial challenges, coping, and styles of gender-reassignment. Plenary Lecture presented at the Annual Conference of the Harry Benjamin International Gender Dysphoria Association, Gent, Belgium.