N.B. If any minutes were taken of the meeting in 1985 then they have long since been lost. These two articles, authored by Katherine, cover all of the content of her talk, and more.
As anthropologists, most of us would agree with Bruner that "our first responsibility is to respect people's accounts of their experiences as they choose to present them" (1983:9). However, those of us interested in historical anthropology face a special challenge since we are rarely able to draw upon indigenous accounts of everyday life. Even when we are able to use such texts, the problem of ethnographic authority remains (Clifford 1988:8; Clifford and Marcus 1986). Considerable work is being done in historical anthropology in reconstructing indigenous histories by using the early narratives of Western observers. However, such efforts have obvious problems of observer bias (see Cohn 1987:136-171; Said 1978; Savage 1984). Furthermore, as in the descriptions discussed in this article, the outside observers have sometimes recorded opposing opinions. How are we, as anthropologists writing today, to assess such conflicting appraisals? Using the case of textiles in 19th-century northern Thailand, I should like to suggest that by reconstructing the political economy of a society, we can evaluate contradictory historical descriptions.
From Veblen (1912) and Simmel (1957) to Weiner and Schneider (1989), an appreciation of the varied manner in which textiles symbolize social distinctions has been longstanding. As Bourdieu has written of symbolic goods in general, textiles can be an integral part of the "infinitely varied art of marking distances" (1984:66; see also Barthes 1984; Sahlins 1976). Often the distinctions are extremely subtle. Writing of the use of fashion, Barthes notes the importance of details as "concentrated meaning" (1984:185). For Barthes, just a detail can change an object's meaning: "a little nothing that changes everything; those little nothings that can do everything" (1984:243). However, more than just symbolizing distinctions, textiles have also been shown to constitute and consolidate social differences through their often vital role in a society's political economy. In his pioneering article on tributary textiles in the Inca kingdom, Murra notes not only that "no political, military, social, or religious event was complete without textiles being volunteered or bestowed, burned, exchanged, or sacrificed," but also that cloth served as "a primary source of state revenues" (1962:722).
insights into the semiotics of consumption and an important methodology for historical anthropology.
Others have made a similar point (see Schneider 1987 for an excellent review of the cultural, economic, and political significance of cloth). As Weiner and Schneider summarize, architects of centralizing polities have awed spectators with sartorial splendor, strategically distributed beautiful fabrics amongst clients, and exported the textile output of royal and peasant workshops to earn foreign exchange" (1989:2).
Contradictory assessments of dress also occur in 19th-century descriptions of northern Thai dress. The anonymous author of one of the earliest surviving accounts remarked on the lack of class distinction in women's clothing: "It is curious to notice the uniformity and universality of the female dress. The higher classes vary the style a little by inserting a very showy strip of wrought silk next above the bottom piece" (Bangkok Recorder 1866). Twenty years later, an American missionary working in northern Thailand wrote in almost identical wording: "Rich and poor all dress alike, except that the higher classes vary the universal style a little by inserting a very showy strip of wrought silk into the skirt near the bottom" (Cort 1886:348).
Thus, depending upon the archival source, contemporary scholars can reach opposing assessments of the character of these earlier societies. Research on textiles in mainland Southeast Asia is just beginning (see Brown 1980; Cheesman 1988; Fraser-Lu 1988; Lefferts 1988, 1990; Prangwatthanakun and Cheesman 1987). Prangwatthanakun and Cheesman's Lanna Textiles: Yuan, Lue, Lao (1987) is the only full-length work on textiles in northern Thailand; as such it is an important preliminary study, especially useful for describing some of the items woven and the techniques used. In this article, I examine the broader social context of textile consumption and production, drawing upon two major kinds of sources, archival and oral. The archival sources include consular reports (primarily British), 19th century newspaper accounts, travelogues, and works by American missionaries. In addition I have interviewed hundreds of villagers over the age of 80 living throughout the Chiang Mai Valley of northern Thailand.5 I use archival sources primarily for insight into the consumption, production, and acquisition of textiles by the elite; I rely more heavily on oral histories for insights into the everyday life of villagers. Based upon an understanding of the social processes of textile production and consumption, I argue that the controversy generated by the contradictory opinions of certain 19th century observers of northern Thai society can be resolved in favor of those who asserted that there were dramatic differences of dress and class in the northern Thai semiotics of consumption.
The Chiang Mai Valley was the site of the largest and most important of the northern Thai kingdoms. These kingdoms were located in the region today called northern Thailand but called "Western Laos" by 19th century missionaries and other foreign observers. The courts of the various principalities were located in the mountain valleys of Chiang Mai, Lamphun, Lampang, Phrae, Nan, and Chiang Rai, each today serving as a provincial capital. Although these kingdoms were independent, they had been tributary to the neighboring kingdom of Burma for several hundred years. During the 19th century, they were tributary to the central Thai court at Bangkok; thereafter they were incorporated into Thailand.
This article is divided into two parts. In the first, I examine the cultural significance of textile consumption in 19th century northern Thailand. I present some of the surviving descriptions of dress, ranging from the daily wear of commoners to the state robes of the ruling lords, and subsequently expand the discussion from dress to other applications of textiles, arguing that there were dramatic differences between peasants and lords in this broader sphere as well. In the second part of the article, I describe how this differentiation between elites and commoners was revealed in the social process of textile production. Focusing on the two most important textiles used; cotton and silk, I consider the overall importance of textiles in the political economy of these northern Thai kingdoms, noting the role of tribute and slave labor in the acquisition of textiles by the elite.
Previous studies have shown that 19th-century northern Thai society was divided into three major social statuses: the aristocrats (jao), the freeholders (phrai), and the slaves (khiikhaa). The aristocracy was internally differentiated by economic and political power. The greatest power and prestige were concentrated in those lords who occupied the five top positions in each of the kingdoms, while lesser members of the aristocracy whose inheritances had dwindled were barely separable from the peasantry at large. Free villagers were all liable to perform corvée labor and pay tribute to the ruling lords, but they were internally differentiated according to economic class. The wealthiest villagers rivaled many members of the aristocracy; in fact, many had royal titles and intermarried with the lower levels of the aristocracy. Villagers spanned the economic continuum, from those with land and numerous animals down to those who were destitute or landless beggars. The difference between slaves and free villagers was also often a gray area. Elite slaves sometimes worked very closely with their lords and received more benefits than ordinary commoners. On the other hand, the conditions for ordinary slaves were generally worse than those for commoners since the former were at the mercy of the lords. (For more on 19th century northern Thai social structure, see Bowie 1988; Calavan 1974; Ganjanapan 1984.) Nonetheless, although portions of this social spectrum overlapped, there were significant differences in lifestyle from one end of the spectrum to the other.
To give an idea of the purchasing power of a rupee at this time, some indications of wage rates are suggestive. Although very few statistics on northern Thai wage labor rates survive, I was able to find three references in the archival sources.16 According to the British trade report of 1894, porters were paid 12 to 15 rupees per month, assuming they carried an average load of 15 to 20 viss; about 54 to 73 pounds (Archer 1895). Some figures on the wages paid to laborers in the teak industry also survive. According to W. J. Archer, the British vice consul, Khamu workers who could once be hired for 40 to 60 rupees a year (and their food) could in 1894 no longer "be had under Rs. 70 to Rs. 90 a year" (1895). Writing five years later, Acting Consul J. Stewart Black gave somewhat lower wage figures, while also lamenting the increasing costs. He noted that Khamu workers were paid 30 to 50 rupees per annum, in addition to their food, which cost about 5 rupees per month, or an additional 60 rupees per year. Black wrote that in 1899 some teak laborers were being paid as much as 120 rupees (food included) and went on to castigate the native villagers for their indolence, commenting that "not even the attraction of what is to him [sic] a small fortune will induce them to undergo for any length of time the hard labour and isolation of forest work" (1 900).17 Thus, forest workers in the teak industry were earning anywhere from 90 to 120 rupees per year (including the value of their food), or about 7 to 10 rupees per month. Such wages paid to forest workers were considered a "small fortune." Although the wages paid to porters were higher, it should be noted that portering such heavy loads required tremendous stamina and could be done by only the strongest villagers. Furthermore, such employment was seasonal.
According to oral histories, the wages paid to agricultural workers were less. Many villagers cited rates of one win (approximately one-seventh of a rupee) per day for agricultural labor at the turn of the 20th century.18 Archival sources suggest that wages for teak workers averaged one-quarter to one-third of a rupee per day and those for porters averaged half a rupee per day. Villagers also recalled that in the early 20th century one rupee could buy a full set of clothing, including a homespun shirt and pair of pants or skirt.
Clearly, the aristocracy's most luxurious clothes were not likely to serve as daily casual wear. Nonetheless they marked a significant distinction in purchasing power and social status between the elite and ordinary villagers. A tin jok skirt border that cost 60 rupees represented at least four months' wages for the best-paid porter and over a year's wages for agricultural workers. Everyday peasant dress already represented anywhere from two to seven days' wages and thus constituted a considerable expense for the ordinary wage laborer.
The ruling lords of the northern Thai kingdom also had distinctive regalia, including umbrellas and spittoons. Whether a formal sumptuary code existed is, as I mentioned earlier, unclear. However, even without the evidence of sumptuary laws, I believe that there is considerable indication of significant class differentiation through dress.19 With the exception of state robes and regalia of rank, differences in dress may well have formed a continuum of wealth rather than a clear-cut differentiation based on status. Poorer members of the aristocracy, less able to afford the most elaborate of clothes, would have blended with those below them. Conversely, wealthier members of the rural elite, especially those who had intermarried with the lower ranks of the aristocracy, would have dressed more ornately. Nonetheless, overall, when one considers the cost of elite dress in light of the economic situation of poor villagers who were begging, stealing, or patching their simple clothing, a dramatic distinction emerges.
Textiles were used not only for dress but also for a variety of household items and on various ritual occasions. Such uses of textiles also revealed considerable differences according to wealth. Although the poorest villagers often did without, ordinary villagers used textiles for making mattress and pillow covers, blankets, bed sheets, and mosquito nets. In general the mattress and pillow covers were plain indigo or black with red stripes or trim. Bed sheets were plain white or white with a red stripe or checked pattern; fancier sheets had embroidery and in some cases more complex weaves. Mosquito nets were woven on special large looms, and many informants complained about how heavy homespun cotton mosquito nets were to wash.
Cloth also figured importantly in the lives and rites of the elite. In addition to owning more and fancier clothes, the elite had more and better household items. Instead of just having enough mattresses, pillows, and other bedding items for the family, wealthier families had additional bedding sets for guests. Furthermore, the guest bedding was considered an object of display and so was more likely to have embroidered ends and complex, time-consuming weaves. Even today wealthy village families usually have wood cabinets with glass doors along the wall of the main room of their home to showcase guest bedding sets.
The possession of ornate pillows was another particularly significant attribute of elite households. Although Thais had a variety of pillows, the prestige pillows were usually triangular and were used for daytime reclining. Their importance was highlighted in a British official's passing remark that such pillows were "to be seen in every house of any pretensions" (Lowndes 1871).25 Furnishing their palaces, the northern Thai princes displayed numerous luxury items such as foreign-made weapons, chandeliers, mirrors, lanterns, curtains, reclining pillows, and even imported carpets (Taylor 1888-1930:73; Younghusband 1888:63-64). In 1830 Richardson noted the presence of Indian and Chinese carpets (1829-36:63), and in 1885 Ernest Satow recorded that the ruling lord of Chiang Mai had European furniture and "a number of gaudy Brussels carpets" (1885-86:51).
The full extent of the differences between commoners and aristocracy was most visible when members of the ruling elite traveled in state or participated in public ceremonies. Royal barges had large cloth canopies: the royal barge of the central Thai king, according to one observer, featured "a canopy of cloth of gold where the King sits on a golden throne wearing a gold embroidered coat and golden shoes" (Dodd 1923:289). The royal entourage often consisted of scores of boats, the rowers all clad in matching uniforms. The elite also traveled by horse or elephant, the animals gaily festooned with decorative textiles. On state occasions, the highest ranks of the nobility used gold and silver decorative caparisons. Mary Cort noted that the gold elephant trappings were "worth thousands," whereas the silver trappings were "worth hundreds" of rupees (Cort 1886:349).
In addition to making public prestations such as those at the Kathin ceremonies, the elite would have given considerable amounts of textile goods away during any other life-cycle or calendrical ceremonies they might hold. Thai ceremonials usually included a merit-making component in which gifts, including monastic robes and embroidered pillows, were given as offerings to the monks (see Davis 1984). Archival sources also note the use of textiles as gifts to visiting dignitaries: the gifts given to Satow, a British official, by the ruling chief of Lampang included velvet mattresses, pillows adorned with Chinese brocade, and silk skirts (Satow 1885- 86:206). Thus, not only did the peasants and the lords differ considerably in terms of dress and household possessions, but they also differed in the extent to which they donated textiles on ritual occasions.
In this article thus far I have depicted significant differences between the elite's and the peasants' uses of textiles. I have described a range of dress: from the stolen and the hand-me-down, from the threadbare and the patched, from the simple cottons of commoners to the state robes of the ruling lords. I have also outlined some of the different uses of textiles in village households as opposed to the court. Here, I should like to show how the differentiation was manifested not simply in the consumption of textiles but also in their production.
As will become clear, both accounts are true; the differences lie in the type of fabric being woven.
Most clothing was made from cotton. However, contrary to what is commonly assumed, weaving was not a universal household industry; only certain villagers in certain villages wove (see Bowie 1988, 1992). The weaving of simple cotton cloth was spread quite widely throughout the Chiang Mai Valley, and certain districts were especially known for their concentrations of weavers. Those districts that had a reputation for cotton weaving in the past, especially the San Kamphaeng and Bo sang districts, have maintained their reputations down to the present. Furthermore, oral histories reveal weaving to have been a highly specialized activity, with different villagers involved in the different phases of production. By far the most commonly produced cloth was a plain white cotton, often later dyed with indigo. The villagers most likely to produce such cloth were the poorer ones, who wove both for their own household needs and for sale or hire. Such village weavers were more likely to find weaving an onerous obligation from which others were freed.
From the simplest and plainest of homespun white cloth to the most elaborate designs using imported fibers, the value of the fabric gradually increased. Striped or plaid cloth involved more work and skill, in both weaving and dyeing, than plain cloth and was consequently valued more highly. Cloth woven with imported threads, most often used for women's phaa sins, was more expensive than the domestic handspun cotton. The wealthier the village weaver, the more likely she was to weave the more time-consuming decorative items such as colored skirts or striped sheets. The more elaborate the design, the more likely the weaver was weaving for pleasure with a "cool heart."
The more complex the weave, the more likely that the weaver was affiliated in some manner with the aristocracy, as war captive, slave, or member of the court. Virtually each of the areas known for weaving is associated with an ethnic minority brought into the Chiang Mai Valley as war captives sometime during the 19th century. Baan Ton Hen is a Khyyn village; San Kamphaeng (particularly around the original district town of Baan Oon) is also known as a Khyyn area. The Khyyn are a population who originally lived in the Chiang Tung area: Chiang Mai led attacks on Chiang Tung in 1849, 1852-53, and 1854, and it seems people were brought back on these occasions (Wilson and Hanks 1985:29). Over half of the people living in the Lamphun region are said to have descended from war captives (Freeman 1910:100). Chom Thong town has a Lawa population, many of whom served as temple slaves. Unfortunately, I was unable to acquire any information about the ethnic background of villagers in Baan Aen since the entire village was forced to relocate when a hydroelectric dam was built.
Unlike villagers, who had to weave, trade for, or buy their clothing, the ruling lords were able to extract raw cotton, woven cloth, and dyestuffs as tribute. Their ability to levy tribute on broad sectors of the population provided the aristocracy with a quantity of cotton cloth no single producer could hope to match. Interestingly, the majority of villagers who sent cotton or cloth as tribute appear to have been hilltribe populations, such as the Karen and the Mussur (today more commonly called the Lahu). One of the Karen villages that Captain Thomas Lowndes visited in 1871 had just taken its year's taxes to Chiang Mai: "it consisted of Rupees 2, 2 blankets, and 40 viss of cotton" (1871). Richardson also noted tribute of cloth paid by the Karen during his travels in 1830 (1829-36:37, 45). Captain McLeod found that the KaKuis had to make presents of mats and cloths to the lords (1836:57). McGilvary commented that much of the raw cotton being purchased by the Yunnanese traders came from the Mussur; although he did not specifically mention tribute, it is likely that the Mussur too would have been expected to offer tribute to the ruling lords in the form of raw cotton or finished cloth. While the aristocracy were able to make apparently generous donations on ritual occasions, much of what they gave was in fact the contribution of others.
Thus, the aristocracy appear to have been able to extract raw cotton, simple cotton cloth, and complex cotton weaves through political means. Tribute afforded them both raw cotton and cotton cloth, and the labor of war captives seems to have provided them with complex weaves such as tin jok skirt borders. Although silk was considered a more valuable fabric, cotton cloth nonetheless had a variety of uses in royal households. The tin jok borders, even those made of cotton, would have marked their wearers as wealthier than ordinary villagers, who only wore plain skirt borders. Possession of textiles ranging from mattresses to elephant headpieces made from complex woven cotton would have similarly served to add to the prestige of their owners. Such cloth could be used as rewards for favored underlings or as gifts for visitors. In addition, cotton cloth made possible the public display of largess involved in merit-making ceremonies, since monks' robes were typically made from cotton.
It is also possible that royalty were involved in the cotton trade. There was considerable demand for raw cotton by Yunnanese traders and some demand for cotton cloth in Burma (Bowie 1992; Hill 1982; Reid 1988:91). British vice consul Archer mentioned in his trade report of 1894 that "women's cloths of coarse cotton, woven by the Laos [were] sought after in Burma as being very durable," although he added that the export was not very considerable (1895). Such cloth, together with silk goods, could also have been offered as tribute to other kingdoms. However they used it, lords - because they could exact tribute and slave labor - found it much easier to acquire cloth than did commoners, who had to weave fabric themselves or find some other means of acquiring it.
Archival sources also indicate that royal slaves were involved in silk weaving. The British official A. H. Hildebrand noted, "There is a good deal of trade capable of being done also in silk garments and silk fancy work, at which the slaves and others are great adepts" (1875). It is not clear whether these slaves lived solely at the court or also in slave settlements established to produce cloth for the court. Silk weaving is known to have been done in only two areas outside the court itself: the towns of San Kamphaeng and Hot (and their immediate environs). While silk weaving continues to this day in San Kamphaeng, in Hot only traces survive in archival sources and in the memories of the town's oldest residents. No information survives to explain why Hot, a town some 70 kilometers from Chiang Mai, would have been a center of silk production and weaving, or why the industry died out. (Villagers said it was because the cocoons scared easily and so had died.) However, in San Kamphaeng a senior member of one of the prestigious silk-weaving families recounted the local version of the history of silk weaving in his area. According to his account, lords victorious in war would capture various kinds of artisans and resettle them in their own kingdoms. Thus, silversmiths were settled near the south end of Chiang Mai town, lacquer ware artists in another location, and weavers in San Kamphaeng. This account indeed suggests that the silk weavers in San Kamphaeng may have been royal slaves weaving at the behest of the court.
Some idea of the potential scale of royal weaving was given by D. J. Edwardes, who wrote that the ruling lord of Chiang Mai had 300 slaves weaving cloth for him (1875). It appears that these Chiang Mai silks were marketed in Burma. In his summary of the Chiang Mai kingdom, Lowndes commented: "Weaving and embroidery are the principal handicrafts, the silk putsoes [phaa nung] are much sought after by the Burmans, as they wear three times as long as those of Burmese manufacture" (1871). He made a similar point about the silk woven in Hot, noting that it was "said to be very strong and durable" and adding, "A thitgoung [headman] showed me a putso that he had had in wear for 7 years, and it was by no means worn out" (1871).
In San Kamphaeng, where silk production has continued to the present day, raw silk was imported from Luang Prabang, Laos, and later from Mandalay, Burma. Raw silk was also routinely imported by the Haw traders coming from Yunnan, China (Hill 1982; see also Bowie 1992).
The geographical distribution of raw materials had social implications. Since sufficient quantities of cotton grew in upland regions of northern Thailand to be readily exported, cotton was more accessible to ordinary villagers and could, in turn, be extracted by the ruling lords through tribute. Since silkworms were not abundant in northern Thailand, raw silk had to be imported. Silk's scarcity heightened its price and its prestige value, serving to concentrate silk weaving in the hands of the court. Aristocratic control of silk production was further aided by the fact that the silk fiber is very fine and hence is far more difficult and time-consuming to weave than cotton.
A comparison of cotton and silk production, then, reveals important contrasts. While cotton was exported, silk was imported into northern Thailand. While cotton was generally woven by freeholding villagers, silk seems to have been woven by slaves and members of the aristocracy. While villagers, except those who begged or stole their clothing, had to obtain textiles through direct economic means, aristocrats were able to augment their own production through the political means of tribute and slave labor. Furthermore, because poverty was widespread and not all villagers grew or wove cotton themselves, many villagers faced hardships in acquiring clothing of any kind for their families.
Understanding the process of textile production helps contemporary readers gain insight into the cultural meaning of cloth to 19th century northern Thai. Once we understand the chronic poverty of most villagers and the difficulty with which villagers obtained even the simplest of cotton cloth, the significance of cloth in daily life and in village rituals becomes clearer. Simultaneously, we can begin to enter the cultural world of 19th century villagers to learn the social meaning of the difference between clothes made of cotton and those made of silk.
Understanding the productive process also helps us appreciate the manner in which textiles were interwoven with royal authority. Because of their coercive power, the lords were able to exact cloth as tribute from freeholders and labor from slaves. Their political position reinforced their economic position, since the textiles - and other goods - they acquired through tribute and slave labor were apparently marketed for revenue. The revenue and surplus textiles they acquired through the labor of others, in turn, reinforced their political position. By sponsoring large, conspicuous merit-making ceremonies in which they gave robes and pillows to monks, the lords enhanced their prestige and, ironically, created an image of generosity. The fine silks in which the lords dressed themselves symbolized not only their distinction from the poor but also their own relationship to the political economy of the kingdom.
Combining oral histories with archival sources, this article has examined textile consumption and production in 19th century northern Thailand. If we have an understanding of the social process of textile production, the "concentrated meaning" (Barthes 1984:185) of northern Thailand textiles becomes more apprehensible. Such apparently minor details of fashion as the use of a silk skirt border - or, as one early observer phrases it, "a showy strip of wrought silk" - can no longer be interpreted as meaning that "rich and poor all dress[ed] alike" (Cort 1886:346). Important differences in dress, household possessions, and ritual prestations separated the aristocracy from the peasantry. These differences signified profound differences in the relationship of each to the political economy. Thus, the semiotics of consumption in northern Thai society is illuminated by an understanding of its political economy. This article on the consumption and production of textiles in 19th century northern Thailand has been at once a description of the social context of textiles and an exercise in historical anthropology. The evaluation and appropriate application of archival sources present a challenge to every historical anthropologist, since these sources are replete with omissions and distortions. However, by interweaving oral histories with archival sources, we can recapture much of the fabric of the past. Oral histories enhance the archival sources by contributing some sense of the lived experiences of the unrecorded majority. This article has shown how developing a better understanding of a society's political economy can provide an independent means to assess the opinions of outside observers of indigenous societies.
Acknowledgments. This article emerges from my dissertation fieldwork on 19th century political economy, conducted from 1984 to 1986 under the auspices of the National Research Council of Thailand with a grant from the Social Science Research Council. Subsequent fieldwork specifically on textile production was conducted during the summer of 1989 with a grant from the Graduate School of the University of Wisconsin, Madison. I would like to thank Cornelia Kammerer, Jean De Bernardi, Nicola Tannenbaum, Patricia Cheesman, Songsak Prangwatthanakun, Kristine Hastreiter, Kate Bjork, Hugh Wilson, and the American Ethnologist reviewers for their various contributions toward the research and writing of this article.
1 Edwardes' summary raises questions about Anthony Reid's conclusion that in Southeast Asia, "the difference in dress between rich and poor, servant and master, king and commoner, was less marked than in pre-industrial Europe, where each man's station and even vocation could be read in the prescribed style of dress" (1988:85).
2 The distinctions of dress appear to have been quite subtle at times. Crawfurd wrote, "The better classes permit the ends of the dress to hang loosely in front, but the lower orders tuck them under the body, securing them behind" (1987:313).
Although the older men in northern Thai villages sport tattoos, the practice has fallen out of vogue among the current generation of northerners. For more on the symbolism of tattoos, see Nicola Tannenbaum (1987).
4 In the course of my interviewing I also encountered villagers who made mention of sumptuary rules with regard to housing and clothing, but they were unable to recall any of the specifics. The quotation cited suggests not only that sumptuary laws existed but also that they varied by ruler and kingdom.
5 During dissertation fieldwork in 1984-86, I interviewed more than 500 villagers over the age of 80 living in about 400 villages throughout the Chiang Mai Valley. I repeatedly asked villagers for their recollections of life when they were young as well as for their memories of what their parents and grandparents had said about life in their days (see Bowie 1988). This article emerges from accidental observations made during my dissertation research. During the summer of 1989 I interviewed another 100 villagers, specifically asking about textiles.
6 Considerable confusion is caused by the various linguistic borrowings of the 19th century English language sources, which alternately use Indian, Burmese, and central Thai words to describe northern Thai clothing. Thus, terms such as phaa nung, lungi, and putso are used in ambiguous ways. In general, these terms refer to the lengths of cloth worn by both men and women on the lower half of the body. The lengths may be sewn into a tube (as in the phaa sin) or twisted into a thick cord worn between the legs (as in the phaa toi). To add to the confusion, the usage of these terms has changed over time. During the 19th century, phaa nung referred to the length of cloth worn on the lower part of the body by central Thai men and women alike, corresponding most closely to the phaa toi worn by northern Thai men. Over time the meaning has changed to refer to the tubular cloth, or phaa sin, worn during the 19th century by northern Thai women and now worn by women throughout the country.
8 Bock, writing in 1884, observed, "A few Lao women are beginning to wear tight-fitting jackets, cut to the shape of the figure, with equally tight sleeves, something after the style of the 'ladies' jerseys' recently so fashionable in Paris and London, and involving no small amount of labour to get on and off" (1986 :327). Writing at about the same time, Cort made a similar observation: "Some are beginning to wear jackets or waists, but the usual style is for the women to have a brightly colored cotton or silk scarf tied around their chests just under the arms" (1886:348).
9 The indigo-dyed cotton daew chador and indigo shirts now identified as stereotypical of the Thai peasantry appear to have been of recent vintage, dating from about the turn of the century. Ironically, the blue farmer shirts (sya moh hoom) now worn by university students and Thai officials to demonstrate Thai nationalist pride seem to have been popularized by Chinese merchants. The daew chador has more in common with Chinese-style loose-fitting pants than with the traditional phaa toi. Additional support for the view that jackets became more common as the century progressed are provided in a few passing comments. In 1868 Henry Alabaster detailed his recollections of people's dress ten years earlier, noting: "I remember that ten years ago at any of the great festivals which attracted there 40 or 50,000 spectators, almost all wore but one garment - or a sarong and scarf. Now almost every one adds thereto a cotton or silk jacket" (1868). Stringer, writing in his trade report of 1890 specifically about northern Thailand, commented, "The wearing of singlets and coats of European pattern by the men and cotton jackets by the women is becoming more common" (1891).
10 That cloth was highly valued elsewhere in Southeast Asia is also reflected in the following Burmese proverb: "If you are on the way to an ahlu [merit-making ceremony], do not wear your jacket; carry it and put it on when you arrive; it lasts longer that way" (Nash 1965:232).
11 "A comment on the poverty of temple slaves in Burma supplies further evidence that the sheer amount of cloth in one's clothing was an indication of economic status: "They are poor these slaves, the men wear no brilliant putsoes and the women wear no vest beneath their jacket" (Rangoon Gazette Weekly Budget 1899b).
12 The value of cloth is also suggested in a northern Thai rhyme describing the payment that three women received in return for sexual favors: "Miss Kum asked for silver, Miss Huan asked for cloth, Miss Noja asked for an elephant. Hurry up and finish Doctor" (Bristowe 1976:127, cited in Patel 1990:127). Cotton's value as a commodity is seen too in the fact that there were traveling minstrels who literally "sang for their cotton." A favorite form of village entertainment in the past was soh, witty and often bawdy repartee between a male and a female singer, with musical accompaniment. One especially popular form of soh was the soh kep nok, or "singing repartee to collect birds." In villages with surplus raw cotton, this soh would be performed as soh laek fai (singing in exchange for cotton). Each village household wishing a performance would build a tree as a stage prop, with cotton representing the birds in the tree. At a certain point in the plot, the male singer would then "shoot down" all the cotton birds and put them in his bag. Having collected all the cotton balls, the performers would then move to the next house where they had been invited to perform, again receiving cotton as payment. (For more on the soh kep nok performance itself, see Shim- bhanao 1982-84).
13 Nineteenth-century paintings have been preserved at Wat Phumin in Nan and Wat Phra Singh in Chiang Mai.
14 Because during times of peace Chiang Tung and Chiang Mai were closely linked by trade as well as by cultural and linguistic similarities, I include these descriptions of Chiang Tung in the discussion of northern Thailand. Kun or Khynn is the name of the ethnic group living in the region around Chiang Tung (Keng Tung), many of whom were brought to Chiang Mai as war captives and resettled there.
15 Stringer wrote that Manchester chowls, "of which four different sizes are sold, fetch from Rs. 20 to Rs. 24 per corge of 20 pieces, and the Bombay goods, also sold in four sizes, fetch from Rs. 17 to Rs. 20 per corge" (1891). Chowl is another word for phaa nung. According to T. Carlisle's 1899 trade report, chowl was "the Indian name for the Siamese 'phalai' or 'paley,' that is the 'phaanung' or lower portion of the Siamese costume printed and furnished with a glaze" (1900). In other words, it was a length of printed cloth some three to four meters long. A possibly higher figure for the price per length was given by Alabaster, who suggested that if the British could manufacture sarongs to sell retail at about 4 to 6 shillings apiece, they might find a market in Thailand (1868). Since the rupee was valued at 13 pence in 1895, this would suggest a cost of 3.7 to 5.6 rupees per length. However, I have no figures with which to calculate the shilling/rupee exchange rate for 1868.
16 James Ingram has done a remarkable job of gathering wage labor rates for central Thailand (1964).
17 1t is interesting that while remarking on the indolence of the natives, Black commented that it was "not uncommon to find Khamoos working for foresters who had failed to pay their wages for 5-6 years" (1900).
18 Until the early part of the 20th century, the Burmese rupee (called the taep in northern Thai) was the dominant currency in northern Thailand. The Siamese (central Thai) baht only became the standard currency thereafter. The baht equaled 100 satang. The exchange rate between the Siamese baht and the Burmese rupee fluctuated but was about 80 to 90 satang per rupee (according to interviews and Archer 1895). Since a win equaled 12 satang, it was approximately equivalent to one-seventh of a rupee.
19 The significance of sumptuary laws is ambiguous. On the one hand, the presence of such laws suggests an elite strong enough to have them passed; on the other hand, it also suggests an elite whose status is being undermined. It has been argued that in England, where a variety of such laws were passed, they represented not the strength of the aristocracy but its weakness vis-à-vis the growing fiscal strength of the bourgeoisie. Sumptuary laws have even been interpreted as the protectionist tactics of a local bourgeoisie protecting domestic production against foreign imports (see Hooper 1915). They have also been interpreted as paternalistic efforts by concerned governments to protect their citizens from profligacy (Phillips and Staley 1961).
21 Far more remains to be said about the raw materials needed for dyeing. For more on this and other dyes, see Prangwatthanakun and Cheesman (1987) and Fraser-Lu (1988). See Schneider (1976) for a fascinating discussion of the importance of dyes in the political economy of Europe.
22 A few of the traditional ordination pillows have survived. I saw one that was among a villager's last remaining unsold treasures; it had been made by his mother for his initiation. A triangular pillow made of black satin cloth, it had gold thread embroidered into a flower design at the points of the triangle.
23 Cloth that has been worn as a woman's phaa sin can be very powerful symbolically. Soldiers often wore pieces from their mothers' phaa sins to protect them in battle, with the idea that their mothers had done the most to give them life and would do the most to protect them. This symbolism becomes even more intriguing when considered in light of the famous myth of Queen Chamathevi. She wove pieces of a phaa sin into a hat for a suitor to ensure that his arrows would fall short of their mark and he would thus fail in his quest for her hand in marriage. The stratagem worked.
24 Textile production seems to have been a more important and more widespread part of the village household economy in northeastern than in northern Thailand. Consequently, I believe, cloth goods figured more prominently in wedding celebrations in the northeast.
26 The Pali word kathina means a piece of cloth that in former times was donated to a temple for making robes; alternatively, it means the wooden frame on which the cloth was traditionally sewn into robes (Davis 1984:200).
27 Even today kathin ceremonies are "most often sponsored by government agencies, private companies, and wealthy families" (Davis 1984:200).
28 The central Thai king, King Mongkut, wore robes of yellow silk while he was a monk (Feltus 1924:53).
Rich people didn't know how to spin or weave. They bought their clothes ready-made or hired other people to weave their cloth for them. Rich people were too lazy to weave for themselves. But some rich people were stingy; they wove their own clothes instead of hiring poor people.
30 lronically, Prangwatthanakun and Cheesman suggest that in the past "every woman owned at least one tin chok for special occasions" (1987:12). Because these borders required so much skill to weave and were so expensive to buy, I am quite skeptical of this claim. I think that only the wealthiest of villagers, or villagers who were themselves expert weavers, would have owned a tin jok.
31 Hildebrand did not specify how the slaves of the second chief were employed; however, we know from Bock's account that one of the second chief's wives had her slaves spin silk. Hildebrand wrote, "The second chief's source of income is not so calculable; he derives a good deal from the labor of his slaves, of whom, with his wives and children, he never has less than 600 under his roof, and the number outside would probably double this amount" (1875).
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