Like early man, an Aztec warrior of the 14th and 15th centuries wore any amount of ornamentation as part of flaunting his status in the eyes of the girls (if he were a young man) or his fellow males (if he were a mature man seeking more power). His best method, however, was to capture an enemy soldier in battle (of as high a rank as possible) and then, in due course, have him sacrificed by priests in a public ceremony.

This was status enough for a warrior but, for a rich man, instead of capturing someone, he would have to buy a young vigorous male from a poor family (paying a very high price in doing so), and feed and clothe him in lavish style for many months before having him sacrificed. Depending on the degree of status he was striving for, the rich man would hold a series of preliminary banquets for his friends and military leaders, giving them valuable gifts for taking part in the celebration. Then followed the gruesome business that we all know about -- the skilful cutting out of the victim's still-beating heart, throwing it onto a brazier, and so on.

Anthropologists report innumerable instances of similar, but usually non-lethal, status ceremonies from all round the world -- the potlatches of some North American Indian tribes, for example, by which a chief would consolidate his status or would be attempting a higher one. "How silly", we modernists are tempted to say, "that someone should give away so much of his wealth and make himself poor". But, of course, such a chief didn't make himself poor -- except briefly. More importantly, he demonstrated his status and in doing so guaranteed that he would continue to receive tributes and become rich again in due course. Riches are almost always a consequence of status, but status cannot be guaranteed from simply becoming rich -- as many a modern lottery winner has discovered!

The above ceremonies are the equivalent of our buying status goods today. Nearer to the modern custom was the status flaunting of the Yap islanders in the central Pacific by which families left their stone currency outside their houses to show the world. If they were poor, their currency would be the size of saucers; if they were rich, their currency would be the size of cart wheels, necessitating several men to carry each of them if they had a need to do so. Thus their stone currency served a double purpose -- that of being status goods but also a means of exchange. It couldn't be overproduced or inflated because the stone was hard to come by, having to be transported by flimsy boats from other islands nearly 300 miles away and laboriously hand-fashioned. As status goods, stone saucers worked. Their currency successfully served the Yap Islanders for hundreds of years until it finally vanquished in the 1960s by the tempting arrival of western goods and American dollars.

Rich individuals today don't flaunt their wealth in visible fashion like the Yap islanders -- such as walking around with $1 million Treasury Bonds or high value banknotes pinned to their suits! -- nor are their lavish homes often seen by ordinary folk, as they used to be in medieval times, for instance. However, I have never heard of a rich person sueing an investigative journalist for invasion of privacy when the amount of his wealth was published for all to read. Forbes Magazine has no problem in collecting information for its 400 Rich List every year, and no problem after publication either. And, of course, the Sunday colour supplements always have photographs of rich peoples' homes -- obviously with their permission

Keith Hudson