I was reminded today of the Salish custom of the Potlatch. In British Columbia, we are either Salish or familiar with some of the Salish language and customs. A potlatch is a lavish party that you throw for prominent community members. You give guests eye-popping gifts, like smoked salmon, oolichan paste (see photo) canoes, totem poles, and so on, which enhances your position in the community. To receive an impressive gift at a potlatch and not be able to answer in kind is a social gaffe. When you receive lovely potlatch gifts from community members, the proper response is to hold a potlatch of your own, and invite everyone and give out even MORE breathtaking gifts, all of which is done with a mixture of boastful swagger ("no one outdoes ME") and humbleness ("please accept this meagre token as a thank-you for the wonderful gifts you gave me a year ago, etc etc"). All of this is done within one's abilities and standing in the community. How much to give and to whom is all quite complicated and involves the social standing of you, the receiver, and the witnesses. Wonderful human stuff.
Wikipedia really doesn't give a good treatment to the custom of the Potlatch in their article. Their wooden discussion seems to miss the entire point.
In modern times, we in Western Canada have verbed the word "potlatch", thereby making it possible to potlatch someone. To potlatch someone is to give someone an ostentatious gift in front of others. Your status is enhanced by giving such a gift and the recipient's status is enhanced by having been worthy of such an honour. The witnesses are important to see the public cementing of a friendship (and to eliminate any whif of patronage, nepotism, or hank-panky).
We all know the embarrassing, almost sickening feeling of having received a gift that is "too much", which is the first part of a potlatch. The wisdom of the Salish is to define the act as a custom, so that the receiver doesn't feel embarrassed at having received something that is too lavish. Custom allows a fitting response. Later, perhaps a year later, they can respond in like kind, publicly with a too-lavish gift. The exact extent of what is "too lavish" is hard to define, of course, but because these must be public gifts, all bystanders can quickly arrive at a consensus as to the extent of this potlatch, and if it was a worthy-enough response to prior potlatches. Great fun for all.
It is not possible to "even the score" by trading potlatches. Once you have received a potlatch gift, even if it was a poor answer to a potlatch gift you gave sometime earlier, the onus is now on you to respond. As a well-mannered potlatcher, you should ignore any implications of a meagre response, but should lavishly redouble heaping riches upon the other, so that all can see how generous you are and your determination to potlatch others into flattened pancakes, crushed beneath canoes, Rolexes, totem poles, iPhones, beaver pelts, and Robertson Davies first-editions (the unkempt master's photo is to the right).
A potlatch has elements of show-off about it, to be sure, but it is also a wonderful way to interact with others.
The way I was raised, there was a similar but different custom. When two fathers, say, drove to a gas station together, both would jump out of the car and rush towards the gas station building shouting and brandishing cash, one man yelling "it's my car, and I'm gonna pay for the @&%!# gas", and the other countering loudly with "you've been driving us all over town, so let me at least pay for the gas, you sonnava8!tch". They would noisily push and shove each other through the door and up to the counter, then bellow at the confused clerk to take their own outstretched money and not the other's. Serious stuff dressed up like fun. Both men proudly showing off their ability to pay, and not be paid for by others.
When I was in University, I had a Chinese girlfriend, Nancy. Her parents (who hated that I was white) would come to town, everyone would go out to supper to a restaurant, and arguments would break out over who would pay -- arguments I would always lose, and be shamed into letting them pay for Nancy and me. One time, I made the reservation and cleverly paid for the supper over the phone with a charge card, a week before we even went to the restaurant! Fiendishly evil! Victory was mine! Bwa ha ha ha ha HAAAAA! Unfortunately, it was a Chinese restaurant. When the bill came, I had a cocky smirk on my face because I had won the battle this time and I knew it. I leaned back, toothpick in mouth, and reached for the bill as the owner approached the table. The owner came to me and bowed sheepishly and handed me my charge card receipt ripped in half, and apologized deeply in broken English for the offense (odd, his English had been fine earlier in the evening). Nancy's father's eyes twinkled triumphantly as he talked with the owner in Chinese and paid for the meal -- with cash, large bills. Her mother scowled at the entire proceedings. I had been thwarted again, and it was necessary and proper to behave as though I was swallowing a lot of anger and humiliation (which I was) and politely, meekly thank her parents (again) for paying for supper. Nancy laughed happily and said in both languages (so that all could plainly hear and understand) "Dan, you'll have to do better than THAT". That was the right remark to make, making light of my umpteenth consecutive failure to pay (despite a creditable effort, this time) and thereby complimenting her parents on their stubbornness (a Chinese virtue) which made them insist on paying, no matter what, even if it meant cheating and switching to Chinese to perform the transaction. They liked me better for having tried so hard (though I was still lo-fan, white rice) , and were happy and relieved that they had bested me -- I was penniless and they were quite wealthy. I don't know what would have happened if I actually HAD ever managed to pay. Their shame at that would have prompted some sort of disproportionate response, I'm sure. It would have been wonderful to suffer that retribution whatever form it took (100 tins of Danish Butter Cookies?) knowing that, proportionally, it would not have measured up to me having paid for supper.
That's a principle similar to the potlatch. Something topsy-turvey where it is better to give than receive, where the giver gets the joy of watching the agony in the eyes of the receiver.
