Capitalism, Magic, Thailand: Modernity with Enchantment

For those familiar with Thai studies, or those who work on popular Theravada Buddhism, Peter Jackson's name should be instantly recognizable. Drawing more from anthropology than from mainstream Buddhist studies, Jackson sheds light on the often bewildering set of practices and images at work in Thai religion, deviating from an often stilted look at what should be in Theravada practice toward what is. In Jackson's work, magic monks, spirit mediums, and amulets play as big a role as—or bigger than—canonical scriptures and commentaries. And this is the point—as Jackson compellingly argues, this multivocality is the hallmark of Thai religious life for practitioners as well.Capitalism, Magic, Thailand reads like a full summary of Jackson's work on popular Thai religion, updated and incorporating insights from a new batch of scholars as well as classics of the field. There are snippets here from much of his previous work (although the subject lies—in this volume, at least—outside of his excellent corpus of earlier writing on gender and sexuality), ranging from his early work on reform Buddhist movements to later work on “syncretic” or “hybrid” (Jackson critiques both terms) forms of religion. Much of Capitalism is a snapshot of Thai studies writing on religion, drawing especially from anthropologists such as Erick White, Benjamin Baumann, Pattana Kitiarsa, and ethnographically minded scholars of religion such as Justin McDaniel. Theoretically, Jackson draws from Latour's critique of modernity, though it is a hallmark of his writing that no inspiration goes unanalyzed: from Foucault to Weber, Tambiah to Kapferer, this study is an attempt to engage intellectually with the vast array of work done on Thai religious practices.Jackson's argument is that we should not see a contradiction between capitalism and modernity, on the one hand, and the growth in practices promising supernatural sources of prosperity, on the other. It is an assumption that runs through popular discourse—I am asked often, “Why do Thais still believe in ghosts, magic, or amulets?” Weberian theories of disenchantment, though critiqued in anthropological work, are still prevalent in writing about Thailand, and the kinds of practices that Jackson analyzes here are often cited by Thai and foreign critics as holding Thailand back from a democratic, “developed” future. Instead, Jackson urges us to see such practices as a part of modernity itself—modernity's rush to give us a purified, rational, disenchanted sasana (religion) along the lines of Sulak Sivaraksa, Buddhadhasa, or Santi Asoke has also given rise to what it disparages as sayasaat (superstition). With its focus on doctrinal coherence, this line of thought takes exception with the diversity of the religious field—the, as Jackson puts it, “polyontological amalgam” of sources of power with diverse and often contradictory points of origin, yet each promising in some way to bolster the individual in a media-saturated neoliberal capitalist economy. In this way, contra Buddhist fundamentalist movements that would seek to purge market forces from the temple, spirit mediums and magic monks bring spiritual logics into the market, serving elites as much as, if not more than, nonelites.The scope of the book is expansive. In the first chapter, Jackson draws upon Latour's distinction between a rationalized theory and nonrationalized practice to show how new forms of magic are produced, especially among the Siamese elite—here is not magic as a resistance to capitalism or a survival of precapitalist times, but an enchanted capitalism. This occurs at the same time as calls for a rationalized Buddhist practice. Indeed, Jackson convincingly shows the codevelopment of spheres of rational Buddhism and magical enchantment through revisiting his argument about the “regime of images,” a field of representation wherein certain contrasting messages are simultaneously delivered to international audiences and domestic audiences, respectively. One thinks here of representations of the Thai king Bhumibol Adulyadej as a rational, secular monarch, on one hand, alongside mainstream Thai reportage of magical events surrounding his life (and, as Jackson points out, death). Jackson then moves on to look at various case studies in turn: the variety of deities, possessing spirits, enchanted amulets, and magical monks that so confound and frustrate those seeking a purified, canonical Buddhism. Finally, Jackson rethinks disparate bodies of literature to argue for a link between ritual performance and media, a ritual concern with prosperity replacing that of protection, and, ultimately, neoliberal capitalism and spirituality.This is a masterful synthesis of work for all interested in the intersections between the market and magic. If I have any criticism of it, it is that it does not do enough to bring in audiences working outside of Thailand that also may need to hear its lessons. While Jackson nods to ethnographies from outside of the kingdom, most notably the work of John and Jean Comaroff, and adds observations from his own extensive work in the country, many references are fleeting, and the work of bringing Capitalism to bear elsewhere remains up to the reader. This, though, is perhaps for the best. Jackson is writing about the state of a field he has been contributing to throughout his extensive career, and as a Thai scholar, I am grateful for his detailed reading (even if my own work does not escape a passing critique).Undergraduates may find the book overly specific to the Thai case, but if they can be convinced of its relevance, it would be a real benefit to any course on magic, science, and religion. For more advanced students, I might pair Jackson's book with Nils Bubandt's The Empty Seashell and, of course, Rosalind Morris's In the Place of Origins.