Issue 4 November 2010
www.radicalanthropologygroup.org
ISSN 1756-0896 (Print) /ISSN 1756-090X (Online)
£3
www.radicalanthropologygroup.org
Issue 4 November 2010
ISSN 1756-0896 (Print) /ISSN 1756-090X (Online)
2 Radical Anthropology
Who we are and what we do
Radical: about the inherent, fundamental roots of an issue.
Anthropology: the study of what it means to be human.
Radical Anthropology is the journal of the Radical Anthropology Group.
Anthropology asks one big question: what does it mean to be human?
To answer this, we cannot rely on common sense or on philosophical
arguments. We must study how humans actually live – and the
many different ways in which they have lived. This means learning,
for example, how people in non-capitalist societies live, how they
organise themselves and resolve conflict in the absence of a state,
the different ways in which a ‘family’ can be run, and so on.
Additionally, it means studying other species and other times.
What might it mean to be almost – but not quite –human?
How socially self-aware, for example, is a chimpanzee?
Do nonhuman primates have a sense of morality?
Do they have language? And what about distant times? Who were the
Australopithecines and why had they begun walking upright? Where did
the Neanderthals come from and why did they become extinct? How,
when and why did human art, religion, language and culture first evolve?
The Radical Anthropology Group started in 1984 when Chris Knight’s
popular ‘Introduction to Anthropology’ course at Morley College,
London, was closed down, supposedly for budgetary reasons. Within
a few weeks, the students got organised, electing a treasurer, secretary
and other officers. They booked a library in Camden – and
invited Chris to continue teaching next year. In this way, the
Radical Anthropology Group was born.
Later, Lionel Sims, who since the 1960s had been lecturing in
sociology at the University of East London, came across Chris’s PhD
on human origins and – excited by the backing it provided for the
anthropology of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, particularly on
the subject of ‘primitive communism’ – invited Chris to help set up
Anthropology at UEL. During the 1990s several other RAG members
including Ian Watts, Camilla Power, Isabel Cardigos and Charles
Whitehead completed PhDs at University College London and Kings
College London, before going onto further research and teaching.
For almost two decades, Anthropology at UEL retained close
ties with the Radical Anthropology Group, Chris becoming
Professor of Anthropology in 2001. He was sacked by UEL’s
corporate management in July 2009 for his role in organising
and publicising demonstrations against the G20 in April.
While RAG has never defined itself as a political organization, the
implications of some forms of science are intrinsically radical, and
this applies in particular to the theory that humanity was born in a
social revolution. Many RAG members choose to be active in Survival
International and/or other indigenous rights movements to defend the
land rights and cultural survival of hunter-gatherers. Additionally,
some RAG members combine academic research with activist
involvement in environmentalist, anti-capitalist and other campaigns.
For more, see www.radicalanthropologygroup.org
Editor
Camilla Power
Email: c.c.power@uel.ac.uk
Editorial Board
Kevin Brown, political activist.
Elena Fejdiova, social anthropologist.
Chris Knight, anthropologist, activist.
Eleanor Leone, student at
Goldsmiths College.
Jerome Lewis, anthropologist
at University College London.
Ana Lopes, anthropologist.
Brian Morris, emeritus professor
of anthropology at Goldsmiths
College,University of London.
Lionel Sims, anthropologist at
the University of East London.
On the cover:
The journal’s logo represents the
emergence of culture (dragons
feature in myths and legends from
around the world) from nature (the
DNA double-helix, or selfish gene).
The dragon is a symbol of solidarity,
especially the blood solidarity that
was a necessary precondition for the
social revolution that made us human.
For more on this, see our website at
www.radicalanthropologygroup.org
The cover picture features Mayday
2010 frolics beneath Big Ben, which
inaugurated Democracy Village.
See Raga Woods’ article, page
42. Photo: Chris Knight.
Back cover: Images courtesy of
Survival International, João Zilhão,
Ian Watts, Ifi Amadiume, Felix Padel
RA is designed by Kypros
Kyprianou and Ana Lopes
Anti-copyright: all material may be freely
reproduced for non-commercial purposes,
but please mention Radical Anthropology
3 Radical Anthropology
Editorial
To see ourselves as others see us
Neanderthals are us: genes and culture
João Zilhão discusses the latest news from the Middle Palaeolithic
Was there a human revolution?
Ian Watts responds to recent challenges in archaeology
The Enigma of Noam Chomsky
Why the divorce between activism and science? asks Chris Knight
Deconstructing War on Terror
Felix Padel investigates how the ‘War on Terror’ affects India’s indigenous groups
Avatar: A call to save the future
Does Avatar deserve the criticism, or can it ‘open our eyes’? wonders Rupert Read
Premenstrual stress and the human revolution
Viky Sousa-Mayer introduces her research blog on PMS
An open confession from a member of Democracy Village
Raga Woods enters a ‘world turned upside down’ on Parliament Square
Re-placing gender and the Goddess
Ifi Amadiume hears from Igbo voices what ‘development’ has done to the Goddess
Direct Action, by David Graeber
Review by Simon Wells
Review by Davide Torri
Contents
To see ourselves as others see us
N
eanderthal-modern human
interrelations dominate
Radical Anthropology
this year, given developments
within archaeology early in
2010. In our interview with top
palaeolithic archaeologist João
Zilhão, he modestly disclaims
political relevance for studying
Neanderthals.
Radical Anthropology begs to
differ. In trying to understand the
process of how we became human,
Neanderthals stand for the ultimate
‘other’ – so close to us, yet not
quite us. Now, we discover, those
of us who descend from lineages
which emigrated from Africa some
80-60,000 years ago may indeed
have mixed it up with Eurasian
Neanderthals. People alive today
carry smidgins of archaic DNA.
40,000-year-old Neanderthal and
early modern human fossils are
generally distinguishable. But
the flesh-and-blood beings whose
remnants they are could have met,
fallen in love, and had babies. And
did!
Even more exciting for leading
pigment specialist Ian Watts is the
evidence attesting to the symbolic
trajectory of each lineage. Pigments,
cosmetics, make-up compacts
3
5
16
22
31
35
41
42
44
54
55
4 Radical Anthropology
with bone applicators… Zilhão’s
Murcian excavations reveal beyond
serious doubt that Neanderthals
owned their traditions of selfdecoration
well before ‘modern’
humans arrived on the European
scene.
Aseverinanthropology,wecanseek
out differences or analyse what’s
strikingly similar. In this case, it’s
healthy to do both. This past decade,
palaeolithic archaeology has found
that in both Africa and Eurasia,
pigments followed by shell
jewellery long precede any
other art. We have to restore
in imagination the dance and
rituals such cosmetics would
have adorned. Those rituals, of
both Neanderthals and African
moderns, were the revolutionary
cutting edge of symbolic culture.
The fundamental human quality
these cosmetics prove is the ability
to ‘see ourselves as others see us’.
Withnomirrors,palaeolithicwomen
– European or African – fixed
each other’s make-up. Men might
have, too. The intimate bonding
experiences of mutual grooming
and beautification lie at the root of
language, art and religion. When
Ian Watts writes about the social
strategies underlying the human
revolution engendering trust, he has
this in mind. Only given such trust
could we begin to share and explore
each other’s dreams.
Human eyes are designed for mutual
mindreading: that is, letting each
other see what we have in mind. The
eyes evolved by all other monkeys
and apes are not so easy to read. We
can confidently predict Neanderthal
eyes were much like ours, elongated
with white background, making it
easy to follow gaze.
The motif of seeing into each
other’s eyes is the trademark of the
megacapitalist Hollywood 3-D film
Avatar. One thing capitalists do very
well is exploit our natural impulses
in order to line their pockets. Many
activists will be cynical on Avatar’s
wider impact. In a stylish essay,
Rupert Read rebuffs the criticisms
and analyses why Avatar has
inspired numerous indigenous and
civil rights actions, been denounced
by the Pope and banned by the
Chinese state. Remarkably for a
film which is about the experience
of doing anthropology, it forces the
issue: either you sneer at it, or you
can’t ignore the call – you have to
act.
Felix Padel echoes Avatar’s call for
‘reverse anthropology’: learning
how to see ourselves afresh by
understanding how those ‘others’
subject to our ‘science’ see us. The
latest export of faltering global
capital has been its War on Terror
model, enabling state security forces
to label inconveniently situated
civilians – in this case, Adivasi
tribal groups – as ‘terrorists’ in
order to eradicate them. So the path
is cleared to raw materials, thirsty
new industrial plant and a compliant
workforce. But late capitalism is
riddled with contradictions: India’s
proudest export to the world has
been its history of civil rights
resistance. In the week after Padel’s
article was submitted, India’s
Environment Minister saved the
Dongria Kond’s sacred mountains;
meanwhile, a hidden war of attrition
against Adivasi peoples for land and
resources grinds on.
The Women’s Councils central to
the Igbo dual-sex political system
have a proud history of resistance
to colonial exploitation, notably
at times of capitalist collapse,
as during the Women’s War of
1929. Pre-eminent among African
anthropologists, Ifi Amadiume
listens to recent historic dialogues of
Igbo elders trying to come to terms
with the destruction of indigenous
religion. This fascinating article
is of special interest to women
who want to know what Goddess
materially means when her
worship and celebration are
inextricably entwined with women’s
socioeconomic and cultural status.
In an era of Christian-missionised
village capitalist ‘development’, that
particular Goddess – Idemili – has
come under savage attack, and with
her, women in their marketplace.
In Radical Anthropology
two issues ago, when asked
if scientists should get
themselves ‘collectively selforganised
and consciously
activist’, Noam Chomsky
responded that if they did,
‘they would probably devote
themselves to service to state
and private power’. Why would
Chomsky, inspiration of anarchists
the world over, say such a thing?
Chris Knight claims Chomskythe-activist’s
target here is his
own professional and institutional
milieu, as represented by Chomskythe-linguist.
Knight is clearing the
way towards an anthropology of
the US military-industrial complex,
treating Chomsky as shaman
spinning the tribal myth.
Chomsky’s agenda, says Knight,
has been to quarantine the natural
sciences from any ideological
contamination by social science,
and above all to denigrate human
origins narratives as mere fairytales.
If language is first and foremost
‘inner speech’, as Chomsky insists,
the ability ‘to see ourselves as
others see us’ is beside the point.
We could not resist the cover design
of the maypole which several
RAG members helped to raise on
Parliament Square: our version of
the Na’vi Home Tree. Raga Woods’
vignette of Democracy Village tells
how this led to a quite astonishing
phenomenon of communitas – all
normal hierarchy of status was
suspended for over two months
on a traffic island in the middle of
Westminster.
5 Radical Anthropology
João Zilhão
Neanderthals are us: genes and culture
Archaeologist João Zilhão has been challenging the orthodoxy
of the Recent African Origins model for the past 15 years. He
discusses fresh revelations on the Neanderthal genome and
Middle Palaeolithic symbolic artefacts with Radical Anthropology.
Radical Anthropology: What
first led you to contest the current
orthodoxy of the modern ‘human
revolution’oftheUpperPalaeolithic
sweeping in from Africa?
João Zilhão: Until the mid-1990s,
I accepted that the orthodox Recent
African Origin (RAO) model of
modern human emergence best
fitted the available archaeological,
palaeontological and genetic
evidence. I began to have second
thoughts after reading a paper in
May 1996 by Hublin et al.1
showing
that the human remains from the
Châtelperronian levels of the Grotte
du Renne, at Arcy-sur-Cure, France,
were of Neanderthals. From this
evidence, the authors concluded
that the cultural advances typical of
the Châtelperronian, such as use of
personal ornaments, resulted from
a ‘high degree of acculturation’ of
late Neanderthals by immigrating
modern humans of the Aurignacian
culture. They rejected the only other
hypothesis considered: that the
Grotte du Renne’s Châtelperronian
ornaments represented ‘imitation
without understanding’. This was
the view of Chris Stringer and
Clive Gamble
2
who argued that
Neanderthals lacked the cognitive
capacity for symbolic culture.
However, there was another
possible interpretation of Hublin et
al.’s results: given the continuity
in lithic technology between the
Châtelperronian and the preceding
Mousterian, establishing a
Neanderthal authorship for the
Châtelperronian could imply that
(1) the Châtelperronian stood for
an indigenous ‘Upper Palaeolithic’
revolution, and (2) views of
the Neanderthals as somehow
cognitively handicapped were
inconsistent with the empirical
evidence.
Later that year, I had the
chance to discuss Hublin
et al.’s conclusions with
my colleague Francesco
d’Errico, from the
University of Bordeaux.
He too had been struck by
this conundrum: Why did
thepapernotevenconsider
the most parsimonious
interpretation of the
results? Could it be that
paradigmatic biases were
blinding researchers
to accept the obvious?
Was there something
fundamentally wrong
with the RAO model that
prevented us applying
to the Neanderthals and
the Middle-to-Upper
Palaeolithic transition
interpretations that would
be straightforward in
any other archaeological
context?
We sent a comment to Nature,
but thanks to it being rejected, we
decided to do the right thing: to
examine the contentious artefacts
ourselves. We asked our colleague
Michèle Julien, at the University of
Paris I (Sorbonne), who at the time
curated and studied the ornaments
and bone tools from the Grotte du
Renne, to see the material in midDecember
1996.
This brief examination convinced
both of us that neither acculturation
nor imitation were viable
explanationsfortheChâtelperronian
material: it was technologically
and typologically distinct from its
putative Aurignacian sources and,
at the Grotte du Renne, there was
clear evidence of on-site production
(e.g., manufacture debris). So we
teamed up with Michèle and two
other French colleagues, Dominique
Baffier and Jacques Pelegrin, to
write a review of the Grotte du
Renne and of the stratigraphy,
chronology and material culture of
the Châtelperronian.
In a special issue of Current
Anthropology dedicated to all things
Neanderthal, our review3
laid out
Author (on right) helps with bear skull removal
6 Radical Anthropology
the case that Francesco and I have
been making for nearly fifteen
years now: (1) stratigraphically
(and chronometrically
4
) the
Châtelperronian precedes the
Aurignacian; (2) in these
circumstances, ‘acculturation’ is an
oxymoron (you cannot imitate or be
influenced by something that does
not even exist to begin with); (3) the
association of diagnostic skeletal
remains with the Châtelperronian
at two different sites implies
authorship, and a Neanderthal one
at that, and (4) Neanderthals not
only had the capacity for symbolic
culture, they materialised it too (e.g.,
in the production of the personal
ornaments and the decorated bone
tools of the Châtelperronian).
RA:Whatisyourviewofthecurrent
evidence on genetic differences of
the two populations?
JZ: Contamination is a major
issue in palaeogenetics, and
one that prevents us from fully
understanding the genetic variation
that existed in the Old World during
the critical period between 35,000
and 60,000 years ago. Another
major problem with ancient
genomics is preservation. In tropical
and temperate Mediterranean
environments, DNA does not
survive for the tens of millennia
necessary for retrieval in early
modern human fossils of Africa and
the Near East, the regions of earliest
appearance of the corresponding
diagnostic anatomical traits, so
we do not and cannot have any
DNA from them. This fact has an
implication that is seldom, if at all
considered by palaeogeneticists:
that what we are calling
‘Neanderthal’ mtDNA may in fact
correspond to a group of extinct
genetic lineages whose geographic
distribution encompassed the entire
Old World and, therefore, may have
been ‘early modern’ as much as
‘Neanderthal!’
These problems are compounded
by the fact that archaeologists,
anthropologists and media people
(and even many geneticists)
often mistakenly equate genetic
‘lineages’ (namely, mtDNA ones)
with biological species. Take
the recent realisation that the
mtDNA extracted from a human
phalange recovered in the cave
site of Denisova, Siberia, belonged
to a lineage that was even more
distant from extant humans than
the Neanderthals’
5
: this finding
was hailed as evidence for yet
another ‘species’ of human living
some 40,000 years ago! However,
the levels whence the Denisova
phalanx came are so disturbed6
that
the chances of that phalanx being
20,000 (or even 10,000) years old
are as large as its being 40,000; until
it is directly dated, we can’t tell. In
any case, the fossil simply goes
to show the extent to which past
human genetic variation was much
higher than at present, something
for which many clues exist even
among the genes of extant humans.
In a Science paper published last
May, Green et al.
7
released a
draft of the Neanderthal genome,
based on nuclear DNA extracted
from three bones recovered in
the Croatian cave site of Vindija.
Their study significantly clarified
the issues, as it found in the five
present-day humans with whom the
Vindija sequence was compared
solid evidence of a Neanderthal
contribution – estimated to be of
1-4% and significantly higher in
Eurasians than in Africans. These
findings confirm that Neanderthals
werenotaseparatebiologicalspecies
and, in retrospect, make it clear that
the last 150 years of controversies
surrounding their taxonomic status
are a good example of the so-called
‘species problem in palaeontology’:
the apparent contradiction noted by
the late Stephen Jay Gould between
Darwinian anagenetic evolution
and the Linnaean concept of
species, which arose under a fixist
paradigm
8
. This is a problem in
palaeontology, where morphology,
not reproductive behaviour,
underlies classification, but extant
mammals that have been considered
as different species, if not different
genera, including primates (e.g.,
baboons), are now known to freely
interbreed in the wild, producing
fertile, viable offspring.
The 1-4% estimate
doesn’t look that much,
but, if you consider the
environmentally driven
imbalance in population
size that existed during
the Ice Ages between
low-latitude Africa,
representing the core of
the human range, and high-latitude
Eurasia, where the Neanderthals
lived at low population densities
and in overall small numbers,
it is in fact a lot. If, for the sake
of the argument, you assume,
under a simple model of panmixia
and unstructured post-contact
populations, that, 50,000 years ago,
there were 50,000 ‘Neanderthals’ in
Eurasia and 500,000 ‘moderns’ in
Africa, you would then not expect
the Neanderthal contribution to
those post-contact humans to be
greater than 10% anyway. If, on
top of this, you consider selection
and continued evolution since
40,000 years ago, including the
contingencies of population history,
it is amazing that as much as a 1-4%
contribution is still apparent today.
We also need to bear in mind
that Green et al.’s estimate of
Could it be that paradigmatic biases were blinding
researchers to accept the obvious?
Was there something fundamentally wrong with
the RAO model?
7 Radical Anthropology
The situation now is the exact reverse of what
existed 20 years ago. Every single one of the
sufficiently complete European modern human
individuals dated to within 5,000 years of the
time of contact feature anatomical archaisms
the percentage of Neanderthal
contribution applies to the genome
of extant humans and that we
cannot extrapolate from their
results that such was also the
Neanderthal contribution to the
genome of the Europeans of 40,000
years ago. The assumption of such
an extrapolation would be
total population continuity,
which is unwarranted. In
fact, most extant Europeans
descend NOT from the mixed
Neanderthal/modern people
of 40,000 years ago but
from the successive waves
of migrants that came to our
continent over the last ten
millennia, namely as part of
the process whereby farming
spread from the Near East.
The contingencies of demographic
history (namely, the demic
underpinnings of the spread of
farming) also impact the issue of
where and when interbreeding
occurred. Green et al. argued that it
was right after the African exodus,
some 50,000 years ago, and in the
Near East, whence stem populations
of ‘moderns-cum-Neanderthal’
genes would then have spread
into Europe and the rest of Asia to
become the ancestors of all extant
Eurasians. Their argument is based
onthefactthatwestEuropeanscome
out in the comparisons as no closer
to the Neanderthals than Papuans or
Chinese, and many commentators
hastily inferred from this that no
interbreeding after initial contact in
the Near East, namely as moderns
spread deep into Eurasia, was one
of Green et al.’s findings.
In fact, however, these authors
did not exclude later interbreeding
processes in western Europe
precisely because, as explicitly
acknowledged (p. 721), the pattern
apparent in their study could be
explained by the subsequent history
of migrations connected to the
spread of agriculture obscuring
gene-flow.
So, where interbreeding in Europe
is concerned, all that Green et al.
said was that they were unable to
detect the corresponding signal
in the samples, not that none
occurred. I would only add that, if
‘Neanderthals’ and ‘moderns’ were
not different biological species,
then the null hypothesis for what
happened at the time of contact
anywhere must be extensive (albeit
variable) interbreeding, as indeed
shown by the fossils themselves.
Therefore, my prediction is:
since the frequency of ‘archaic’
skeletal traits in European
early moderns is higher than in
present-day Europeans, European
early moderns should exhibit a
Neanderthal-derived percentage
of their genomes higher than
1-4%; i.e., when compared to the
Neanderthals, they should come out
closer to them than do present-day
Papuans or Chinese. Unfortunately,
it would seem that we will have to
wait some time until the prediction
can be tested because we still have
no genomes of immediately postcontact
Europeans.
RA: Tell us about the fossil
specimens you have been involved
with which you think show evidence
of interbreeding.
JZ: At the time of the 1998
Current Anthropology paper, our
findings were consistent with two
alternative non-RAO models for
the emergence of symbolism: that it
emerged among different lineages,
even different species of humans,
as a result of convergent evolution;
or that Neanderthals had not been a
different species at all. In that case,
the emergence of anatomical and
behavioural modernity related not
to a speciation event but instead to
a process of uneven and combined
development affecting structured
populations of humans — each
perhaps worthy of subspecies
status but, biologically, belonging
to a single anagenetically evolving
species of which Homo erectus,
Homo heidelbergensis and Homo
sapiens would be but chrono- or
palaeo-taxa.
Eventually, I went on to argue the
latter alternative as a result of my
involvement in the excavation and
publication of three important early
modern human fossils: in 1998-99,
the child skeleton from the Lagar
Velho site, in Portugal; and, in
2003-05, the mandible and cranium
from the Oase cave, in Romania.
The human palaeontological
study of these fossils, led by Erik
Trinkaus
9
, from Washington
University (St.-Louis), concluded
that all three presented a series
of genetically inherited, archaic,
if not diagnostically Neanderthal
anatomical features that implied
significant admixture at the time of
contact.
This recognition coincided with
the realisation, as a result of direct
radiocarbon dating, that all the other
purported early moderns lacking in
such features, and upon which rested
the notion that the Middle-to-Upper
Palaeolithic transition in Europe
featured total discontinuity in the
realm of physical anthropology,
were in fact of recent Holocene age.
That was the case, in particular,
of the supposedly Aurignacianassociated
remains from the
8 Radical Anthropology
south-west German cave site of
Vogelherd.
So, thanks to the Lagar Velho
and Oase finds, Erik’s subsequent
study of other long-forgotten
Romanian fossils (from the caves
of Cioclovina and Muierii), and the
extensive analysis and monographic
publication by Maria TeschlerNicola
et al.
10
, in 2006, of the early
modern human sample from Mladeč
(Czech Republic), the situation now
is the exact reverse of what existed
20 years ago. Every single one of
the currently known, sufficiently
complete European modern human
individuals (eleven in total) that
have been dated to within some
five millennia of the time of contact
feature a similar, albeit variable
mosaic of anatomical archaisms.
The robustness of the fossil pattern
is such as to make it clear that
interbreeding between the latest
Eurasian Neanderthals and the first
early modern humans who began
to disperse into their territories
around 42,000 calendar years
ago did occur. In short, the fossil
evidence accumulated over the last
decade indicated that no biological
barrier to interbreeding between
Neanderthals and moderns ever
existed, and that conclusion is now
corroborated by genetics.
RA: Genes apart, the most
interesting aspect of your work
is the theory and supporting data
on cultural interaction between
the populations, with influences
travelling both ways. Can you give
us an overview of this evidence?
JZ: In theory, one could argue that it
would have been precisely because
Neanderthals and moderns were
both fully human that interbreeding
might have been impossible—not as
a result of (non-existent) biological
barriers but because of cultural
ones, e.g., prohibitions or taboos.
But the archaeological record
patterns against such expectations.
As I said, my involvement
with these issues began with an
argument on how acculturation did
not work as an explanation for the
ornaments and decorated bone tools
of the Châtelperronian. It’s ironic
that subsequent developments
showed that acculturation (in the
sense of cultural influence) in the
reverse direction best explains the
composition of the assemblages of
personal ornaments of the earliest
European modern human societies.
Between 2004 and 2006, Francesco
d’Errico and his former student
Marian Vanhaeren, together with
Chris Henshilwood and other
colleagues, were able to show that
an early modern human-associated
tradition of personal ornamentation
existed in South Africa, the
Maghreb and the Near East since the
last interglacial, >70,000 years ago,
perhaps as early as 100,000 years
ago
11
. This tradition consistently
and exclusively manufactured
composite beadworks made with
perforated shells from the different
regional species of Nassarius,
a small marine gastropod, or of
morphologically very similar
genera. Although no such evidence
is currently known for the
intervening period, by 45,000 years
ago the tradition resurfaced again
in the Initial Upper Palaeolithic
(IUP or Ehmiran) of the Near East,
which is widely accepted as the
stem culture for the subsequent
Ahmarian and the related Protoaurignacian
of Europe.
This pattern is important because
the Protoaurignacian is the earliest
cultural manifestation reliably
associated with the dispersal of
modern human groups into our
continent (its radiocarbon dating
overlaps with that of the Oase
fossils). Given this, it can hardly
comeas a surprise thatsmall,basketshaped
shell-beads similar to those
of the Ahmarian and the IUP feature
prominently in Protoaurignacian
ornament assemblages. These
It’s ironic that subsequent
developments showed that
acculturation in the reverse direction
best explains the assemblages of
personal ornaments of the earliest
European modern human societies
Oase excavation, Romania, 2004
9 Radical Anthropology
assemblages, however, also
include items that are unknown
in its Near Eastern sister-culture
(the Ahmarian), in the preceding
IUP, or anywhere in Africa prior
to 40,000 years ago: namely, large,
perforated and grooved teeth, bones
or fossil shells that in all likelihood
were used individually as pendants
hanging around the neck, not as
parts of composite beadworks.
Where or who did the Proto-.
aurignacians get the idea from?
Given the long-term stability of
the African/Near Eastern tradition,
and the fact that the novelties in
its repertoire correspond to the
range of ornaments seen in the
Châtelperronian and the coeval,
also Neanderthal-associated, socalled
‘transitional’ cultures of
Europe (Lincombian/Ranisian,
Szeletian, Bachokirian, etc.), the
parsimonious explanation is that
they got it from the locals — i.e.,
from the Neanderthals. Put another
way, that they interacted with them,
and, in such a scenario, one can
hardly see how any putative sex
prohibition could have been 100%
effective 100% of the time. So,
both the cultural and the physical
anthropological evidence agree that
encounter situations resulted in the
transmission to immigrating modern
human groups of both Neanderthal
memes and Neanderthal genes.
RA: Tell us about the latest
evidence from Cueva Antón and
Cueva de los Aviones in S.E. Spain,
dating back to 50,000 years ago,
and spell out the implications of this
material for Neanderthal cognition
and symbolic behaviour. Is it as
significant for Neanderthals as the
Blombos materials for moderns?
JZ: The Spanish evidence
12
consists of four types of finds:
1. perforated shells of large
marine bivalves of the genera
Acanthocardia, Glycymeris and
Pecten, some of which were
painted;
2. unperforated shells of the
Mediterranean spiny oyster,
Spondylus gaederopus. As all other
species of this genus, this features
upper valves with exuberant
sculpture and vivid red or violet
colour that inspired collection for
ritual purposes in a large number
of archaeological and ethnographic
contexts worldwide. One specimen
was used as a container for the
storage or preparation of a complex
cosmetic recipe where shiny bits of
freshly ground haematite and pyrite
(black) were added to a base of
lepidocrocite (red);
3. lumps of iron pigments of
different mineral species (haematite,
goethite, siderite), but mostly of
yellow natrojarosite (whose only
known use is in cosmetics);
4. and a kind of stiletto made of an
unmodified pointed bone bearing
pigment residues on the broken tip,
suggesting use in the preparation or	
application of colorants.
In any other archaeological context,
the straightforward interpretation
of this material would be that the
pigments were used in bodily,
most likely facial decoration, and
the perforated shells in personal
ornamentation, probably as neck
pendants. For instance, that is
exactly how Daniela Bar-Yosef
et al.
13
interpreted an assemblage
of perforated and ochre-stained
Glycymeris from the last
interglacial, early modern humanassociated
site of Qafzeh, in the
Near East. To question a similar
interpretation for similar material
in the Spanish case just because
Neanderthals, not moderns, were
involved, would therefore imply
tons of special pleading — so much
so that, in fact, to my knowledge, no
one has so far ventured down that
avenue of argumentation.
In the context of the Châtelperronian
debate, this evidence is also
particularly relevant in that the
material from Cueva de los Aviones
dates to 50,000 years ago, thus
predating by ten millennia the
Oase fossils, the earliest European
modern humans currently known.
The implication is inescapable: no
matter what you or I or anybody else
may think of the Châtelperronian,
there can be no doubt that, in the
Spanish case, neither imitation nor
acculturation explains the observed
facts.
In light of the Qafzeh finds, the
Spanish evidence also raises an
intriguing possibility, one that
neither my colleagues nor I have
formally presented in writing yet,
for consistency, I will advance it
here. The presence, in the Near
East of last interglacial times, of the
African tradition of Nassarius beads
so far rests on a single find from
Skhul. Marian Vanhaeren
14
and
In any other archaeological context, the straightforward
interpretation of this material would be that the pigments were
used in bodily, most likely facial decoration, and the perforated
shells in personal ornamentation, probably as neck pendants
10 Radical Anthropology
her colleagues made a good case
for that bead to come from the level
that contained the burials of early
modern humans. However, the true
age of these remains is controversial
(for instance, uranium series dates
obtained on animal teeth suggest
that an important component of
that level dates to only 40,000-
45,000 years ago). People like Chris
Stringer and Milford Wolpoff have
argued that two chronologically
distinct populations,
one anatomically
less ‘modern’ than
the other, could well
be represented in the
Skhul sample.
The possibility exists,
therefore, that the
Skhul Nassarius
bead relates to a later
period of occupation,
i.e., that it relates to
the modern humans
who returned to the
Near East after 45,000
years ago (those of
the IUP), not to those
who lived there some
90,000 years ago. If
so, then the presence
of painted/perforated
Glycymeris shells
in both Qafzeh and
Aviones, coupled with
the absence of Nassarius in either
Qafzeh or Skhul prior to 50,000
BP, would allow the formulation of
the following hypothesis: that the
Avionesshellsrepresentthesurvival
in Europe, among Neanderthal
societies, of traditions of personal
ornamentation going back to the
last interglacial, at which time they
would have been spread around the
shores of at least the whole of the
north Mediterranean sea, regardless
of (real or perceived) biological
boundaries. Put another way, the
possibility exists that, some 90,000
years ago, two different ornament
traditions were already in existence:
one in Africa and modern humanassociated
— the Nassarius beads
tradition of the Still Bay culture
of South Africa and the Aterian
culture of the Maghreb; another
in Mediterranean Europe and the
Near East and associated with both
modern humans and Neanderthals
— the perforated bivalve tradition
of the Tabun C-type Mousterian of
Qafzeh and the Middle Palaeolithic
of Iberia.
RA: How does the Spanish data and
a multispecies/population origin
of symbolic behaviour impact on
a Noam Chomsky/Richard Klein
position on major genetic mutation
as the trigger of modern behaviour?
JZ: I don’t think that multispecies
views of human evolution are valid
to begin with. However, if we accept
them for the sake of the argument,
the implication of the Neanderthal
evidence is that a genetic ‘flickof-the-switch’,
triggering the
emergence of symbolic behaviour,
would have to have occurred
independently, more than once, in
different times and places, which is
hardly consistent with parsimony.
Therefore, a corollary of our
findings is that the genetic mutation
position can now be sustained only
from within single-species models
of human evolution. Having said
this, I believe that language is
too complex to be anything but
evolutionarily ancient. To my
mind, the chain of neurological,
physiological, cognitive and
palaeontological arguments
supporting this notion that Terence
Deacon
15
put together in his 1997
book, The Symbolic Species, is
extremely convincing.
On the other hand, considering
how metabolically
expensive the brain
is
16
, why, if not
to use it, would a
particular lineage of
great apes need to
have a significantly
expanded brain,
with that expansion
principally affecting
the prefrontal cortex,
the area that is
involved in most
advanced cognition
tasks? Although on
average smaller until
0.5 million years
ago, Homo brain
sizes overlap with
the modern range of
variation since at least
one million years ago;
therefore, I would
expect the key hardware
developments concerning
language and cognition to have
occurred at that time, not with the
advent of anatomical modernity.
In my view, therefore, the right
question to ask is why material
manifestations of symbolism do not
appear in the archaeological record
until much later than one million
years ago. Perhaps the problem
lies in the operational definitions of
symbolic material culture currently
agreed upon by archaeologists and
palaeoanthropologists; or perhaps
no need existed for such material
symbols until certain demographic
and social thresholds were crossed.
If that crossing eventually occurred
around 100,000 years ago and
not before, then that may well be
the reason why we first see the
Perforated scallop shell from Cueva Antón, natural colouring on
inside (left half), orangey pigment applied to outside (right).
JoãoZilhão
11 Radical Anthropology
decoration of persons and objects at
that time too.
RA: Comparing the overall records
of possible early symbolic materials
in Eurasia (Neanderthal ancestry)
vs. Africa (modern ancestry),
do you think there are still
grounds for arguing for strategic,
behavioural differences between the
populations?
JZ: One of the aspects of the
‘Human Revolution’ paradigm
that most hindered the last 20
years of research into Neanderthals
and early modern humans was
the notion that, in line with
textbook definitions, each of these
two ‘species’ would have been
characterised by its own ‘speciesspecific’
behaviour. However, all
attempts at defining a specifically
‘modern human’ behaviour
as opposed to a specifically
‘Neanderthal’ behaviour have met a
similar failure: When applied to the
archaeological and the ethnographic
records, such definitions always
end up with some modern humans
being behaviourally Neanderthal
and some Neanderthals being
behaviourally modern!
In the 1860s, when William
King gave birth to Homo
neanderthalensis,humanfossils
were used as ancillary evidence
in mainstream ethnological
views of the racial ladder, to
which they added time depth.
Today, ranking human ‘races’
in terms of cognition is no longer
acceptable but, in western culture,
the philosophical or religious need
to place ‘us’ at the top of the ladder
of life (or, for some, of creation)
still prevails, and explains the
continued search for images of
what ‘we’ are not (or not anymore)
that, by contrast, enhance the basics
of what ‘we’ are. Such is the place
occupied by Neanderthals in the
Human Revolution paradigm, and
that is how, explicitly or implicitly,
species-specific perspectives of their
behaviour treat them — the outgroup
against which ‘modernity’ or
‘humanity’ is defined.
Depending on different perceptions,
going back to the eighteenth
and nineteenth centuries, of the
fundamental basis for the triumph
of civilised society and industrial
capitalism, so (1) do Neanderthals
tend to be represented as lacking
in the corresponding behavioural
featureand(2)doearlymodernstend
to be portrayed as benefiting from
a ‘selective advantage’ consisting
in its possession. To give but a
few examples, the Enlightenment
emphasised the power of reason,
AdamSmithstressedtheimportance
of the division of labour, and David
Ricardo highlighted the role of
international trade and comparative
advantage. Not surprisingly,
explanations for the demise of the
Neanderthals have correspondingly
postulated competitive inferiority
caused by their lacking in symbolic
cognition, in labour specialisation
by sex and age class, in long-
distancecirculationofrawmaterials,
or in logistical organisation of
the subsistence base… And, not
surprisingly either, if Neanderthals
are found to conform to the opposite
of these expectations, then the
argument is turned upside down!
Recent formulations, for instance,
have been that it was their extreme
focus on large mammal hunting
that allowed modern humans, with
greater behavioural flexibility
and a broader subsistence base, to
outcompete them.
In truth, the archaeological record
shows that, on the ground, the
Middle-to-Upper Palaeolithic
transition in Eurasia was about
people featuring not only somewhat
different arrays of anatomical traits
but also a diverse range of cultures
and adaptations, ones whose intra‘Neanderthal’
and intra-‘modern
human’ variability along latitudinal
andlongitudinalclinesencompassed
almost the entire gamut of
ethnographically documented
settlement-subsistence strategies.
In the realm of subsistence, for
instance, Neanderthals were
logistically organized hunters
50,000 years ago at SalzgitterLebenstedt,
in northern Germany,
where they exploited reindeer in
exactly the same manner as the
Ahrensbourgians who recolonised
the area 40,000 years later. In the
Levant, however, they had a broadspectrum
economy, including
significant exploitation of small
mammals and plant foods. And, in
areas of Iberia where the presentday
coastline is close to theirs, late
Neanderthals left sites featuring
shell-midden accumulations that
differ from Upper Palaeolithic and
Mesolithic ones only in that their
artefact component is Mousterian.
Where the social and sexual division
of labour is concerned, Kuhn and
Stiner have argued
17
that nowhere
in the Neanderthal record do we see
any evidence that, as in all known
ethnographic hunter-gatherer
societies living in cold-temperate
or subarctic environments, females
had taken on the role of technology
specialists. They pointed out that
bone needles and awls, the types of
artefacts commonly used to make
tailored, weather-resistant clothing
and well-insulated artificial shelters,
which are female-associated
tasks in most subarctic huntergatherer
societies, do not appear
until the Upper Palaeolithic. This
is undisputedly true, but the early
To question a similar interpretation for similar
material in the Spanish case just because
Neanderthals, not moderns, were involved, would
therefore imply tons of special pleading
12 Radical Anthropology
Upper Palaeolithic culture where
suchevidencedoesappearforthefirst
time is… the Neanderthal-associated
Châtelperronian! Functional analysis
and experimental replication by
Francesco d’Errico and colleagues
showed that the awls from the
Grotte du Renne had been subjected
to an intensive use — a minimum
of 20,000 perforations on 2.5 mm
thick leather, with many, given their
fineness, having probably been used
on lesser resistant materials, such as
furs,birdhidesorintestines.Onecan
hardly think of what such intensive
use might have been for if not the
making of tailored clothes; thus,
if, in subarctic environments, such
tasks are primarily female ones,
then the earliest real evidence for
the existence of an institutionalised
sexual division of labour is in fact
found among Neanderthal, not
modern human societies.
In actual fact, tailoring and
shoemaking are also intimated by
results from the analysis of the
residue found on a flint flake from
the German site of Neumark-Nord,
dated to >100,000 years ago. The
analysis showed it to be an extract
of oak bark macerated in water, of
a kind used until recent historical
times in the tanning of hides for
the manufacture of water-proof
clothing and shoe wear. Danish
environmental researcher Bent
Sørensen
18
argues that even during
the interglacial, Neanderthals
faced a considerable heat-loss
problem, and tailored clothes
would have been necessary for
survival. So, even considering the
differences in body mass and other
anatomical details, for a human
– Neanderthal or modern – the
simple fact of successful settlement
of cold-temperate and subarctic
environments implies technologies
and modes of social organisation
without which survival would
have been impossible. In Ice Age
Europe, therefore, the difference
between the Middle and the Upper
Palaeolithic archaeological records
is primarily one of visibility, not
one of cognition or biologically
based behaviour.
A further problem with the
‘biologisation’ of the variation
observed in the culture of Upper
Pleistocene humans is that it is
frequently framed by anachronistic
comparisons. For instance, the
argument that ‘Neanderthal’ camp
sites are ‘less elaborated and
structured’ than ‘modern’ ones is
predicated on the use of European
Upper Palaeolithic camp sites as the
standard for a modern camp site and
of European Middle Palaeolithic
camp sites for a Neanderthal camp
site. But the conclusion would have
to be reversed if the habitation
features apparent in the Grotte du
Renne’s Châtelperronian level
X were used as the Neanderthal
standard and the lack of any
structure in most if not all known
African MSA sites as the modern
standard!
More importantly, any such
comparisons need to be put
into historical perspective: the
average campsite of the late
Upper Palaeolithic is indeed more
complex than the average campsite
of the Middle Palaeolithic. Does
this relate primarily to the anatomy
of the human populations involved
or to intensification over time, i.e.,
to the higher levels of knowledge
of and control over the environment
acquired across the tens of
millennia involved, as generation
after generation people innovated,
experimented, failed, tried again
and passed on the learning so
accumulated to their descendants?
This would bring about an increase
in numbers as a side effect of
adaptive success and trigger a
feedback mechanism promoting
further intensification as hitherto
untapped niches had to be exploited
and the technologies to do that had
to be invented. Since no one tries to
explain the Industrial Revolution
in terms of biologically based
behavioural variables, why should
we think the approach is valid for
the Upper Palaeolithic Revolution?
This does not mean that important
biological factors were not at work
throughout. Erik Trinkaus, in
particular, has suggested that many
anatomical changes observed at this
time, namely the trend to overall
skeletalanddentalgracilisation,were
probably triggered by technological
developments. The point is, such
changes are observed among both
moderns and Neanderthals (as
in, e.g., the post-crania of SaintCésaire).
Understanding them
In my view, therefore, the right question to ask is why material
manifestations of symbolism do not appear in the archaeological
record until much later than one million years ago
Team on excavation in Murcia
13 Radical Anthropology
therefore requires units of analysis
that go way beyond the simplistic
opposition between Neanderthals
on one hand and modern humans
on the other. In my opinion, these
examples show that the problem
lies in the Human Revolution
straitjacket. From within such
a frame of mind, scholars are
inevitably led to treat Neanderthalmodern
human interaction as an
abstract, totally ahistorical game
played between two reified entities
with little (if any) relation to
actual empirical realities, as if a
Neanderthal of 100,000 years ago
was the same thing as a Neanderthal
of 50,000 years ago, and as if a
modern human of today or of 20,000
years ago was the same thing as a
modern human of 200,000 years
ago.
So, to me, the way forward is to treat
what happened in the late Middle
and early Upper Pleistocene from
the perspective of (palaeo-)history
and (palaeo-)ethnography. We
will never understand this critical
period of our past if we reduce the
biological and cultural variation
that existed at the time to the two
anatomically defined categories of
‘Neanderthals’ and ‘modern
humans’.
RA: If we now all agree
that Neanderthals were not
stupid, and showed similar if
culturally distinctive abilities,
what then is your view on
the fate of the Neanderthals?
Why are we here and not
them?
JZ: Although it is unquestionably
true that, as a population/subspecies
displaying a consistent set of
anatomical traits, Neanderthals
disappeared some time between
35,000 and 40,000 years ago,
that does not mean that they went
extinct without descent. Given
the fossil and genetic evidence for
interbreeding at the time of contact,
I think the question that you ask
should in fact be rephrased. The
problem is not one of who won the
‘us’ versus ‘them’ confrontation.
Instead, the problem is: Why is
it that the anatomical gestalt that
prevailed in the mixed populations
resulting from the process of
interbreeding was the ‘modern’ and
not the ‘Neanderthal’
one?
As with all complex
problems, it is vain to
look for single-cause
explanations for the
observed outcome.
People often overlook
that explaining historical
processesimplieslooking
at different scales, in
both time and space, and
that general explanations
valid in the long-term
or on a transcontinental
scale may well be
irrelevant to explain what
happened in the shortterm
or on a regional
scale. In short, framing
the issue of the fate of the
Neanderthals in terms
of simple dichotomies
(us versus them, smart
versus stupid, adaptive
versus maladaptive,
etc.) is easy, convenient and
readily understandable; it is also
fundamentally wrong.
To me, the starting point is the
general biogeographical law that, all
other things remaining equal, if the
barriers (environmental, climatic,
geographical, behavioural or other)
between two populations that
evolved in isolation for a significant
amount of time disappear and the
two genetic reservoirs effectively
mix, the smaller population (in our
case, the Eurasian Neanderthals)
willalwaysbeabsorbedbythelarger
(in our case, the African moderns).
Of course, the other things never all
remain equal, so we also have to
include issues of selection (natural,
sexual or cultural) and contingency
in the equation.
Perhaps facial gracility was
somehow selectively advantageous
in the environment of accelerated
technological innovation that
characterises the period of contact
in Europe. And catastrophic events,
such as the major volcanic explosion
that occurred near Naples 39,000
years ago (which probably wiped
The problem is not one of who won the ‘us’ versus
‘them’ confrontation. Instead, the problem is:
Why is it that the anatomical gestalt that prevailed
in the mixed populations was the ‘modern’
and not the ‘Neanderthal’ one?
Measuring ESR, Oase excavation, Romania
14 Radical Anthropology
out the mixed populations of southeastern
Europe soon after contact),
may also have contributed to dilute
the strength of the Neanderthal
genetic signal. Or possibly social
and economic practices and
strategies gave rise to a differential
in fertility favouring the peoples of
the Protoaurignacian.
The problem is that, so far, no
evidence has been found that
the Protoaurignacian was indeed
characterised by greater extractive
efficiency and cultural complexity.
Its possession of figurative art is
often advanced as proof, but the
widespread notion that Europe’s
earliest modern humans were
‘astonishingly precocious’ artists
misrepresents the facts. The earliest
such art anywhere in the world are
the ivory sculptures of the German
Aurignacian and the Chauvet cave
paintings. But, in good agreement
with the nature of the associated
stone tools, the range of dates
obtained for these manifestations
falls entirely within the Aurignacian
II, i.e., they postdate by some five
millennia the time of contact in
Europe. At that time, the only
archaeologically visible difference
is that the Protoaurignacian
features a lot more objects of
personal ornamentation. But, if
the Protoaurignacian was a culture
of composite beadworks whereas
the Châtelperronian was one of
individually worn ornaments, then
quantity cannot be automatically
translated into quality, as it may
well have taken 20, 50 or 100 shell
beads to produce the functional
equivalent of a single perforated
carnivore tooth.
Finally, the last major problem with
the ‘us-versus-them’ approach is
that it frames the actual historical
process in terms of competition
only, and one that confronted
two monolithic, reified entities.
‘Modern’ and ‘Neanderthal’ are
19th-21st century AD categories,
to my mind very useful in some
scientific contexts and very useless
in others. But can we realistically
assume that, at the time of contact
anywhere in Europe, a ‘modern
human’ would have known that he/
she was ... a ‘modern human’
(and ditto for Neanderthals)?
Although it simplifies things
to talk about the spread
of ‘modern humans’ into
Europe, what the record
actually shows is a spread of
the Protoaurignacian culture.
There is good reason to think
that the modern human gestalt
hitchhiked the spread of the
Protoaurignacian, but this
does not have to have been as
a result of the ‘victory’ of a
monolithic biocultural entity.
In fact, it is much easier to
explain the process as a result
of the widespread adoption
of cultural innovations via
contact, exchange, co-operation
and interbreeding. As is always the
case in such situations, competition
and conflict inevitably must have
entered the equation, but reducing
the process to a confrontation
between two peoples/armies
battling for living space is what I
would call the videogame view of
the Transition: fine for Hollywood,
not so for palaeoanthropology.
RA: Do you feel the archaeological
and palaeoanthropological
community has responded in a spirit
of dispassionate enquiry towards
your work? Or do you think such
sharp and polarised controversy is
part of the process of science when
cherished myths are challenged? At
what point does politics interfere
with science?
JZ: Of course the palaeoanthropological
community hasn’t
responded dispassionately! And I
wouldn’t have expected it to in the
first place, because scientists are
also human beings; although trained
to be much more open-minded than
the average street man, scientists are
nonetheless influenced by widely
shared cultural values, by academic
environments, and by personal
interests. Also, science is in many
ways inherently conservative, and
will resist paradigm change until
and unless it cannot be avoided; and
for good reason, as it too follows
the old common sense principle
that ‘if it isn’t broken, don’t fix
it!’ Until about five years ago
my Neanderthal/modern human
papers submitted for publication
systematically faced more than
50% hostile (often very hostile)
reviews. Still, in my experience,
journal editors were more often
than not inclined to listen to my
rebuttals, and as a result the papers
eventually all got published, read
and discussed.
So, I have no complaints: the
scientific process worked. It was not
easy, but then again it never is, and
that’s how it should be: science can
live with harsh and unfair criticism,
but not with complacency.
I don’t think ‘politics’ are
involved in these controversies,
although they are often permeated,
especially in the media, by ‘political
correctness’ issues. For instance,
the notion was promoted that, by
showing that we all shared a very
recent common ancestry, RAO and
the Mitochondrial Eve hypothesis
provided a scientific weapon
against racism. I always found this
to be a very dangerous argument,
as it implied that perhaps racism
would be scientifically justified if
Author on excavation in Murcia
15 Radical Anthropology
the opposite ‘candelabra’ model
of a very distant common ancestor
and largely separate evolutionary
trajectories in Africa, Asia and
Europe were to have been shown
correct.
Awareness of the influence of
politics, culture and intellectual
traditions in interpretations of
human evolution is needed. But
political attitudes and choices
should be dictated by the ethical and
social issues of the present, to which
knowing what exactly happened
to the Neanderthals 40,000 years
ago is not, I’m afraid, of much
relevance. Finding it out helps us
in understanding ourselves as a
biological species, and in learning
more about our place in the natural
world and about cultural process.
Also, as Svante Pääbo rightly
pointed out in the initial stages of
the Neanderthal genome project,
we may even eventually learn from
the Neanderthals things about our
genes that will have medical and
therapeutical applications. This is
good enough for me as ‘political’
justification for doing ‘Neanderthal’
science (read the adjective as you
wish!).
Notes
1. Hublin, J-J., F. Spoor , M. Braun,
F. Zonneveld and S. Condemi 1996. A
late Neanderthal associated with Upper
Palaeolithic artefacts. Nature 381: 224–226.
2. Stringer, C., and C. Gamble 1993. In
Search of the Neanderthals: Solving the puzzle
of human origins. London: Thames & Hudson
3. D’Errico, F., J. Zilhão, D. Baffier, M.
Julien, J. Pelegrin 1998. Neanderthal
acculturation in Western Europe? A critical
review of the evidence and Its interpretation.
Current Anthropology 39: S1-S44.
4. Zilhão, J. and F. d’Errico 1999. The
chronology and taphonomy of the earliest
Aurignacian and its implications for the
understanding of Neanderthal extinction.
Journal of World Prehistory, 13: 1-68.
5. Krause, J., F. Qiaomei, J. M. Good, B.
Viola, M. V. Shunkov, A. P. Derevianko and
S. Pääbo 2010. The complete mitochondrial
DNA genome of an unknown hominin from
southern Siberia. Nature 464: 894-897.
6. Zilhão, J. 2007. The emergence of
ornaments and art: an archaeological
perspective on the origins of behavioural
‘modernity’. Journal of Archaeological
Research, 15: 1-54.
7. Green, R. E., J. Krause, A. W. Briggs,
T. Maricic, U. Stenzel, M. Kircher, N.
Patterson, H. Li, W. Zhai, M. H. Fritz, N.
F. Hansen, E. Y. Durand, A. Malaspinas,
J. D. Jensen, T. Marques-Bonet, C. Alkan,
K. Prüfer, M. Meyer, H. A. Burbano, J.
M. Good, R. Schultz, A. Aximu-Petri, A.
Butthof, B Höber, Barbara Höffner, M.
Siegemund, A. Weihmann, C. Nusbaum,
E. S. Lander, R. Carsten, N. Novod, J.
Affourtit, M. Egholm, C. Verna, P. Rudan,
D. Brajkovic, Ž. Kucan, I. Gušic, V. B.
Doronichev, L. V. Golovanova, C. LaluezaFox,
M. de la Rasilla, J. Fortea, A. Rosas, R.
W. Schmitz, P. L. F. Johnson, E. E. Eichler,
D. Falush, E. Birney, J. C. Mullikin, M.
Slatkin, R. Nielsen, J. Kelso, M. Lachmann,
D. Reich and S. Pääbo 2010. A Draft
Sequence of the Neandertal Genome.
Science 328: 710-722.
8. Gould , S. J. 2002 The structure of
evolutionary theory. Cambridge (MA): The
Belknap Press of Harvard University Press.
9. Trinkaus, E. and J. Zilhão 2002.
Phylogenetic implications. In J. Zilhão and
E. Trinkaus (eds), Portrait of the Artist as
a Child. The Gravettian Human Skeleton
from the Abrigo do Lagar Velho and its
Archeological Context, Lisboa: Instituto
Português de Arqueologia, pp. 497–518;
Trinkaus, E., S. Milota, R. Rodrigo, M.
Gherase and O. Moldovan 2003. Early
modern human cranial remains from the
Pestera cu Oase, Romania. Journal of
Human Evolution 45: 245–253; Trinkaus,
E., O. Moldovan, S. Milota, A. Bîlgăr, L.
Sarcină, S. Athreya, S. Bailey, R. Rodrigo,
M. Gherase, T. Higham, R. Bronk Ramsey,
and J. van der Plicht,. 2003b. An early
modern human from the Pestera cu Oase,
Romania. Proceedings of the National
Academy of Sciences USA 100: 11231–11236.
10. Teschler-Nicola, M. (ed.) 2006 Early
modern humans at the Moravian gates:
Mladec Caves and their remains. Wien:
Springer-Verlag.
11. d’Errico, F., C. Henshilwood, M.
Vanhaeren and K. van Niekerk 2005
Nassarius kraussianus shell beads from
Blombos Cave: Evidence for symbolic
behaviour in the Middle Stone Age. Journal
of Human Evolution 48: 3–24; Vanhaeren,
M., F. d’Errico, C. Stringer, S. L. James,
J. A. Todd and H. K. Mienis 2006. Middle
Paleolithic shell beads in Israel and Algeria.
Science 312: 1785–1788; d’Errico, F. and
M. Vanhaeren 2009. Earliest personal
ornaments and their significance for the
origins of language debate, in R. Botha and
C. Knight, (eds) The Cradle of Language.
Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 16-40.
12. Zilhão, J., D. Angelucci, E. BadalGarcía,
F. d’Errico, F. Daniel, L. Dayet; K.
Douka, T. F. G. Higham, M. J. MartínezSánchez,
R. Montes-Bernárdez, S. MurciaMascarós,
C. Pérez-Sirvent, C. RoldánGarcía,
M. Vanhaeren, V. Villaverde, R.
Wood, J. Zapata 2010. Symbolic use of
marine shells and mineral pigments by
Iberian Neandertals. Proceedings of the
NationalAcademyofSciencesUSA107:1023-1028.
13. Bar-Yosef Mayer, D. E., B.
Vandermeersch and O. Bar-Yosef 2009.
Shells and ochre in Middle Paleolithic
Qafzeh Cave, Israel: indications for modern
behavior.JournalofHumanEvolution56:307-314.
14. Vanhaeren, M., F. d’Errico, C. Stringer,
S. L. James, J. A.Todd and H. K. Mienis
2006. Middle Paleolithic shell beads in
Israel and Algeria. Science 312: 1785–1788.
15. Deacon, T. 1997. The Symbolic Species:
The co-evolution of language and the
human brain. London: Penguin.
16. Aiello, L. C. and P. Wheeler 1995.
The expensive tissue hypothesis: the brain
and the digestive system in human and
primate evolution. Current Anthropology
36: 199-221; Aiello, L. C., and C. Key,
2002. Energetic Consequences of Being a
Homo erectus Female. American Journal of
Human Biology 14: 551-565; Barrickman,
N. L., M. L. Bastian, K. Isler and C. P. van
Schaik. 2008. Life history costs and benefits
of encephalization: a comparative test using
data from long-term studies of primates in
thewild.JournalofHumanEvolution.54:568-590.
17. Kuhn, S. and M. Stiner 2006. What‘s a
mother to do: The division of labor among
Neandertals and modern humans in Eurasia.
Current Anthropology 47: 953–980.
18. Sørensen, B. 2009. Energy use by Eem
Neanderthals. Journal of Archaeological
Science 36: 2201-2205.
João Zilhão is professor of Palaeolithic Archaeology at the University of
Bristol, Dept of Archaeology and Anthropology. In 1998, he directed the
salvage excavation of the Early Upper Paleolithic child burial of Lagar Velho
(Portugal) and, in 2004-2005, the archaeological excavations at the Peştera cu
Oase (Romania), site of Europe’s earliest modern humans. Ongoing projects
include the Middle Palaeolithic sequence of Cueva Antón (Spain).
16 Radical Anthropology
Ian Watts
Was there a human revolution?
Ian Watts, longtime member of the Radical Anthropology Group
and one of the world’s leading specialists on early symbolic
materials, defends the ‘human revolution’.
T
he debate between
marxists and feminists
over the roots of
women’s oppression
brought me to
anthropology and archaeology
in the late 1980s. This was an
exceptionally exciting time in
human origins research, all the
more so for me as I assimilated the
latest developments through the lens
of Chris Knight’s ‘sex-strike’ model
of the origins of symbolic culture,
submitted as a Ph.D. thesis in 1987.
A 1987 genetics paper had argued
that everyone on earth was
descended from a single African
woman (technically a single mtDNA
lineage) living around 200,000
years ago. This became known as
the ‘African Eve’ hypothesis, and
was to become the consensus in the
1990s. Previously,ithadwidelybeen
thought that regional populations
of modern humans evolved largely
independently of each other over
immense periods.
Also in the late 1980s, new dating
techniques were applied to two cave
sites in Palestine, containing burials
of early Homo sapiens. Previously
thought to be in the order of
40,000 years old, they turned out
to be closer to 100,000 years old,
representing an early migration
of our species out of Africa. This
population is now thought to have
become extinct, with all nonAfrican
people today descended
from a migration that occurred
sometime between 80-60,000
years ago. Most significant about
these burials was that two were
clearly symbolically elaborated: a
middle-aged man clasping a boar’s
mandible, and a youth clasping a
deer’s antler. Prior to this re-dating,
most archaeologists agreed that
there was no compelling evidence
for symbolic behaviours older
than about 40,000 years old. It
seemed clear to me that the Skhul
and Qafzeh burials implied not
only that symbolic culture was
older than previously thought, but
that it had evolved first in Africa
among early Homo sapiens. It was
to take another 15 years before the
archaeological community at large
would come to share this view.
The bizarre thing about this date
of 40,000 for symbolism was
that in introductory anthropology
textbooks of the 1980s it was still
common to find the claim that an
essentially ‘human’ way of life,
hunting and gathering, a home-base
arrangement, a sexual division of
labour, and even language, all went
back about 1.5 to 2 million years.
This extreme gradualism had been
premised on two assumptions:
first, that the association of stone
tools with bones of large animals
in Africa implied hunting; second,
that the reduction in sexual
dimorphism seen with Homo
erectus implied reduced levels of
inter-male competition and hence
stable pair-bonding. 1980s research
had shown that scavenging was
a better explanation for the early
bone/stone tool associations, while
effective hunting of medium to
large game could only be inferred
World’s oldest engraving, 100,000 year-old ochre from Blombos, found by the author
IanWatts
17 Radical Anthropology
from about half a million years ago.
The reduction in sexual dimorphism
turned out to be evidence of
females getting bigger, and was
more informative about changes in
life-history variables than levels of
inter-male competition.
The final refuge of those defending
extreme gradualism has been the
observation that some late Asian
Homo erectus crania had capacities
falling within the modern human
range. Did this mean the cognitive
hardware for symbolic reference
and language evolved shortly after
2 million years ago? But the overall
trend in the brain-size story is of
two periods of significant increase,
the first with early Homo, around 2
mya, the second occurring within
the last half million years, when
H.erectus had given rise to H.
heidelbergensis in western Eurasia
and Africa.
Few palaeoanthropologists or
archaeologists directly confronted
the sharp contradiction between
this gradualist perspective and
the absence of generally agreed
evidence for symbolic behaviours
prior to 40,000 years ago. The
developments in the late 1980s
forced a
reevaluation. A second catchphrase
– ‘the human revolution’ – joined
‘African Eve’. In a sense this
was simply relabelling what had
previously been referred to as ‘the
symbolic explosion’ associated with
the Middle to Upper Palaeolithic
transition in Europe and western
Asia, around 40,000 years ago. This
transition marked the beginning of
the replacement of Neanderthals by
Homo sapiens.
Forty thousand was also the
then current estimate of initial
occupation of Australia, and
for the earliest African beads –
associated with an industry thought
to represent the earliest Later Stone
Age. For most archaeologists, the
Middle and Later Stone Ages of
sub-Saharan Africa stood in the
same relationship to each other as
the Middle to Upper Palaeolithic
in Eurasia (although lone voices
in South African archaeology had
been challenging this view in the
1980s). Overall, 40,000 appeared
to be a date of global significance.
But the change in phrase from
‘symbolic explosion’ to ‘human
revolution’ acknowledged the huge
discrepancy between the timing
of our speciation (c.200,000 years
ago) and the earliest compelling
evidence for symbolism. If ‘we’
(Europeans) hadn’t morphed from
Neanderthals, and we (Homo
sapiens) weren’t a symbolic species
from the outset, then what else other
than a revolution could explain such
a major change?
Neither ‘the symbolic explosion’
nor ‘the human revolution’ actually
explained anything: They simply
flagged a dramatic change in the
archaeological record. Despite a
few brave attempts,
1
archaeologists
weren’t equipped to explain this
phenomenon. Indeed, I don’t
think any single discipline was so
equipped.
On the one hand, any explanation
had to start from Darwinian
premises. More specifically,
I’d argue, it has to start from a
behavioural ecology perspective,
focussing on conflicts and tradeoffs
between male and female
reproductive strategies, seasonality,
environment and demography.
Into this already complex mix,
one needs to incorporate sexual
selection models of signal evolution
to explore the communicative
implications.
On the other hand, the field
requiring explanation – symbolic
culture – appears to defy the
‘selfish-gene’ logic of modern
Darwinism2
. Chomsky’s legacy
of excluding social context from
language origins debates is
discussed by Knight in this issue. To
make matters worse, the discipline
best equipped to discuss symbolic
culture – social anthropology –
had spent most of the twentieth
century refusing to engage with
evolutionary theory. Consequently,
social anthropologists didn’t even
recognise the significance of our
recent African origin. Here, at last
was an origins story that could make
sense of the symbolic universals
identified by a succession of
anthropologists, from Lewis Henry
Morgan, through Tylor, Frazer,
Durkheim, and Lévi-Strauss.
Twenty years on, ‘the human
revolution’ has almost dropped
out of archaeological and wider
palaeoanthropological discussion of
human evolution. This can largely
be attributed to archaeological
findings resulting from the new
research agenda posed by the
discrepancy in dates between
our speciation and evidence for
symbolism. A succession of papers
from 2002 onwards demonstrated
African traditions of geometric
engraving and bead manufacture
between 80-60,000 years ago,
a date recently pushed back to
c.100,000 years ago
3
. This means
there was no revolution at 40,000
years: Symbolic culture was in place
in Africa prior to any migration
beyond the continent. It now
looks as if some late Neanderthal
populations (prior to contact with
If we weren’t a symbolic species from the outset,
then what else other than a revolution
could explain such a major change?
18 Radical Anthropology
Homo sapiens) also had symbolic
culture (see João Zilhão, this issue).
Are we to suppose that two distinct
populations underwent separate
cognitive revolutions? Isn’t it more
parsimonious to assume symbolic
and linguistic capacities evolved
earlier in the shared heritage of the
two populations?
While the answers to questions
of who, when, and where, become
clearer, of itself this brings us no
closer to understanding why and
how symbolic culture arose. Unless
that is, the answers to the ‘who?’,
‘when?’, and ‘where?’ questions
match the predictions of a preexisting
hypothesis or model of the
origins of symbolic culture. Then
ears should prick up. This is exactly
the case with the archaeological
record of earth pigment use.
Fifteen years ago, I co-authored
a paper with Chris Knight and
Camilla Power presenting an
updated version of Knight’s original
thesis on the origins of symbolic
culture.
4
We predicted: i) that
the earliest pigment use should
not predate c.500,000 years ago;
ii) an initial and prevailing focus
on blood reds; iii) that initial use
would be irregular, but that before
modern brain sizes were achieved,
there should be a shift to regular
use. A further prediction was
that where appropriate pigments
weren’t available, people should
incur considerable costs to procure
them
5
. This was just one subset
of archaeological predictions, and
archaeology was just one among
several disciplinary fields across
which our model made predictions.
By far the most detailed, unlikely,
and therefore, refutable predictions
concerned an underlying syntax to
the mobilisation of ritual power,
testable against ethnographic data.
However, with social anthropology
disengaged from evolutionary
approaches and from ‘grand theory’
of any kind, response to the paper
came largely from archaeologists,
who were understandably more
interested in claims about the
pigment record than in the intricate
details of rituals and myths.
The model’s point of departure was
to address how evolving hominin
females met the unprecedented
maternal energy costs of bearing
larger-brained offspring given that
brain size increased exponentially
between c. 500-150,000 years ago.
The hypothesis was that coalitions
of females used sexual signals
to influence male behaviour,
ultimately securing regular male
provisioning in the form of animal
fats. More specifically, female
coalitions used male interest
in menstruation as a signal of
impending fertility. Compared to
pregnant and lactating females, a
menstrual female is a good bet to
be fertile soon. The problem for
the burdened pregnant and breastfeeding
females is that males will
be all too inclined to focus their
efforts on the menstrual females.
To counteract this, coalitions of
females appropriated the blood and
took control of the dangerous signal,
by using cosmetic substitutes such
as red ochre. This drove up costs
to philanderer males who tried to
pick and choose between females.
Conversely, it reduced costs to those
males prepared to invest.
While tied to the presence of
real menstrual blood, the initial
ritualised performances were
dubbed ‘sham menstruation’. For
such a strategy to be effective in
sending men off on collective biggame
hunts, then the painting-up
song-and-dance would have to be
performed regularly, regardless of
whether any individual member was
bleeding. This meant a ‘sex strike’,
with women declaring themselves
taboo until men returned with
the meat. If their taboo status was
marked by ‘blood’, then, extended to
the blood of game animals, raw meat
likewise became taboo, prohibiting
hunters from consuming their
kills out in the bush – a ‘hunter’s
own-kill’ rule.
6
So hunters had
to surrender their kills to women
who, as custodians of cooking fire,
could transform the raw into the
cooked. In establishing the identity
of bleeding women and animals,
humans created the first collective
deception – a shared fantasy that is
the essence of symbolic culture. The
model specified a lunar cosmology,
with performances tied to the dark
moon, with the return of the hunt
and lifting of blood taboos at full
moon.
Archaeologists had long known that
earth pigment use, either red ochre
or black manganese, significantly
predated 40,000 years, with the
earliest ochre occurrences dating
at least 250,000 years old. They
had rightly been wary of inferring
The change in phrase from
‘symbolic explosion’ to ‘human revolution’
acknowledged the huge discrepancy
between the timing of our speciation (c.200,000 years ago)
and the earliest compelling evidence for symbolism
19 Radical Anthropology
symbolic culture on this basis alone.
Moreover, in the absence of detailed
studies, it was generally thought that
there was little difference between
the European and African records.
The topic was thought unlikely to
be informative about differences
between Neanderthals and early
Homo sapiens (and their respective
immediate ancestors).
When we wrote the 1995 paper, I
had recently returned from South
Africa, examining Middle Stone
Age (MSA) pigment assemblages
held in various universities and
museums. Pigments were absent or
rare in the earliest MSA sequences,
but were regular (within sequences)
and virtually ubiquitous (between
shelter sites) by the early Late
Pleistocene. From a few sites in
the Northern Cape and the East
African tropics, pigments were
reported from earlier but undated
contexts. The overwhelming
majority of material, especially
in early contexts, was red ochre.
These preliminary results seemed
to accord with the predictions of
our model.
However, archaeologists had raised
a number of objections to the
common-sense inference that red
ochre was primarily the residue of
ritual body-painting. The ‘ochre’
might be fire-reddened deposit,
or a tanning agent, or sun-block,
or insect repellent, etc.. My Ph.D
thesis addressed these issues, by
investigating temporal patterning
and colour selection in more detail.
My key conclusion was that there
was evidence for symbolic culture
in southern Africa from at least
c.110,000 years ago.
7
My data
also indicated that there was an
explosion in ochre use at around
this time, which led me to a more
contentious conclusion: that if there
was a ‘human revolution’, it was
probably then. As it turns out, this
was an over-interpretation of the
data, due to inadequate dating of
one key sequence (Border Cave),
and inadequate sampling of the
ochre at another (Klasies River).
My post-doctoral research has
involved working on two excavation
projects along the southern Cape
coast. Chris Henshilwood and Judy
Sealy invited me to join the Blombos
Cave excavation project. This
site provided the first compelling
symbolic evidence in the MSA,
initially with a couple of geometric
engravings on pieces of ochre,
8
and
then with marine-shell beads –
some bearing traces of ochre.
9
Both
came from layers dated to c.75,000
years. My own contribution was
in finding additional geometric
engravings on ochre, taking the
tradition back 100,000 years.
10
I also found that MSA people
chose to use and modify the most
saturated reds
11
. It also appeared
that Blombos inhabitants went to
greater lengths to get these pigments
in the later stages of occupation than
in earlier stages due to changes in
local environment. Curtis Marean
invited me to join the team working
at nearby Pinnacle Point. There the
sequence goes back to c.164,000
years; the same selective criteria
among utilised pigments apply.
12
While ochre use of itself cannot
be used to infer symbolic culture,
habitual and widespread use,
with consistent colour selection,
can. In this scenario, the beads of
c.80-75,000 years ago are telling
us something about historical
developments, not about the initial
conditions and form of symbolic
culture.
My current understanding of the
picture is that use of red ochre
in Africa probably extends back
between 500-400,000 years ago.
While ochre use of itself cannot be used to infer symbolic culture,
habitual and widespread use, with consistent colour selection, can
Climbing up to Blombos Cave entrance
ChrisKnight
20 Radical Anthropology
Between 300-200,000 years ago,
immediately prior to our speciation,
a couple of sites within the tropics
demonstrate that such use was
regular. In South Africa, however, it
appears that ochre use only became
regular and ubiquitous during the
penultimate glacial cycle (the end
of the Middle Pleistocene, between
190-130,000 years ago), remaining
so thereafter. This rests on the
absence of pigments in the few
very early (but currently undated)
MSA cave assemblages, together
with its regular occurrence in
overlying MSA assemblages at the
same sites. Key here is the Border
Cave (Kwa-Zulu Natal) sequence:
pigment is rare in the two earliest
excavation units where deposition
of the younger unit is now thought
to have begun around 200,000
years ago; by contrast, pigment
occurs regularly throughout the
overlying sequence, the oldest layer
of which has provided age estimates
between c.170-150,000 years ago
– the middle of the penultimate
glacial.
As previously noted, there are
earlier pigments in South Africa,
associated with an industry, the
Fauresmith, generally considered
transitional between the Early and
Middle Stone Ages. The Fauresmith
was long suspected to be more
than 250,000 years old, but recent
dating of one sequence indicates it
extends back at least 464 ±47,000
years. We know very little about
these pigment assemblages, whether
use was regular, or how far back
any regularity extends. However,
we cannot speak of a continuous
tradition, directly linking this
material with that from c.160,000
years ago. I think it’s important to
bear in mind that palaeogeneticists
infer a major population crash in
the early history of our species,
isolating small sub-populations in
refuge environments during the
arid conditions of the penultimate
glacial. The implications and issues
are nicely summarised in a recent
paper by Marean.
13
In Europe and India, there are a
handful of ochre finds between
300-200,000 years ago. This
implies that selection pressures
pushing ritual performance were
common across the whole grade
of H. heidelbergensis lineages.
However, there then follows a
Eurasian find-gap lasting at least
100,000 years, and there is very
little Neanderthal use until after
c.60,000 years ago. When it does
pick up, in France at least, it’s as
likely to be black manganese as red
ochre. Around this time, we have
the compelling Spanish evidence
for symbolism discussed by Zilhão.
However, Neanderthal pigment use
never seems to become ubiquitous,
but remains fairly localised. This
might reflect geological constraints,
but I doubt it. It seems to accord
with Zilhão’s suggestion that
locally contingent ecological and
demographic factors played an
important role. Widespread and
regular use of red ochre is restricted
to incoming Homo sapiens and
those last Neanderthals who were
the authors of the Châtelperronian
industry, living in the shadow of the
newcomers. Indeed, habitual use of
red ochre seems to be a hallmark
of the spread of modern humans
across the world.
There are, therefore, very
pronounced differences between
the pigment records of the two
lineages, and I think these speak
to the questions of why and how
Habitual use of red ochre seems to be a hallmark
of the spread of modern humans across the world
symbolic culture evolved. Power
14
has suggested that Neanderthals
and their European ancestors, living
in a more seasonal environment
(encouraging birth synchrony),
would have had more stable pairbonds
than evolving Homo sapiens.
Especially during Ice Ages,
Eurasian females would be under
less pressure to engage in costly
ritual display to mobilise male
labour. Under milder (less seasonal)
conditions, such as interglacials,
this might break down, which would
lead to the patchy sporadic nature
of the Eurasian record. Testing
this hypothesis offers a direction
for future work. In Africa, I think
that regular use of red ochre – an
index of habitual collective ritual
– is implicated in our speciation.
The behavioural changes involved
promoted the subtle morphological
changes by which our speciation is
identified.
Such a process is entirely consistent
with Darwinism, but it was also
revolutionary, not just in its
consequences, but in principle, as it
involved the overthrow of primate
male dominance as a viable
strategy. This created sufficient
levelsofwithin-grouptrustforcheap,
linguistic forms of communication
to get off the ground, in the context
of rules of distribution governing
kinship, marriage and economics. It
was from these rules that all other
‘institutional facts’ flowed. While
there can be little doubt that there
were significant developments in
the cognitive and communicative
abilities of earlier hominins, if by
‘language’ we mean anything like
our own linguistic abilities, then I’m
of the view that you either can or
can’t enter into a domain of shared
fantasies, of which language is just
21 Radical Anthropology
one aspect. It makes little sense to
suggest that this evolved gradually
over two million years, leaving no
trace until 250,000, 100,000 or
40,000 years ago. Complexity may
requirebothagradualisthistory–all
kinds of conditions may need to be
met beforehand – and a revolution.
A leap to a new level of complexity
can follow the resolution of some
previously insuperable problem.
ThehistoryoftheRussianrevolution
may provide a heuristically
useful way of approaching
the discontinuity between the
Fauresmith and Middle Stone Age
pigment records. The Bolshevik
revolution of October 1917 was
preceded by the respectively
failed and partial revolutions of
1905 and February 1917. The
October revolution didn’t catalyse
a global communist revolution
because it failed to link up with the
revolutionary moments in Europe
between 1918-1921, critically in
Germany. The human revolution
eventually succeeded, but only after
what appears to have been one or
more false starts. Its initial success
may have been restricted to a tiny
population living in a specific area
within the African tropics.
As to the question of why
pigment use is the characteristic
archaeological feature of this
hypothesised revolution for the
first hundred thousand years of
our species’ history, and why
migration beyond Africa was so
late, I suggest that the maxim ‘if
it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’ probably
applies. While population densities
were low, the initial human huntergatherer
economy – monthly biggame
hunts, mobilised through
collective ritual – was sufficient.
In the early Late Pleistocene, under
milder, less seasonal conditions,
regional African populations grew
rapidly. While this may not have
significantly undermined the basis
of the original economy, it probably
did require elaboration of social
Notes
1. Stringer, C., and C. Gamble 1993. In
Search of the Neanderthals: Solving the
puzzle of human origins. London: Thames
& Hudson; Mithen, S. 1996. The prehistory
of the mind: the cognitive origins of art,
religion and science. London: Thames &
Hudson.
2.See Knight, C., R. Dunbar and C. Power
1999. An evolutionary approach to human
culture, in R. Dunbar, C. Knight and C.
Power (eds.) The Evolution of Culture,
Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press,
pp.1-11.
3. Henshilwood, C. S., F. d’Errico, R.
Yates, Z. Jacobs, C. Tribolo, G. Duller,
N. Mercier, J. Sealy, H. Valladas, I. Watts
and A. Wintle 2002. Emergence of modern
human behaviour: Middle Stone Age
engravings from South Africa, Science,
295: 1278–1280; Henshilwood, C. S.,
F. d’Errico and I. Watts 2009. Engraved
ochres from Middle Stone Age levels at
Blombos Cave, South Africa, Journal of
Human Evolution, 57: 27–47.
4. Knight, C., C. Power, and I. Watts
1995. The Human Symbolic Revolution:
A Darwinian account’. Cambridge
Archaeological Journal 5: 75-114.
5. Power, C. 2009. Sexual selection
models for the emergence of symbolic
communication: Why they should be
reversed, in R. Botha and C. Knight (eds.)
The Cradle of Language, Oxford: Oxford
University Press, p. 273, Table 14.2.
6. Knight, C. 1991. Blood Relations:
Menstruation and the Origins of Culture.
New Haven and London: Yale University
Press.
7. Watts, I. 1999. The origin of symbolic
culture, in R. Dunbar, C. Knight and C.
Power (eds.) The Evolution of Culture,
Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press,
pp. 113–146.
8. Henshilwood et al. 2002.
9. d’Errico, F., C. Henshilwood, M.
Vanhaeren and K. van Niekerk 2005.
Nassarius kraussianus shell beads from
Blombos Cave: Evidence for symbolic
behaviour in the Middle Stone Age.
Journal of Human Evolution, 48: 3–24.
10. Henshilwood et al. 2009.
11. Watts, I. 2009. Red ochre, body
painting and language: Interpreting the
Blombos ochre, in R. Botha and C. Knight
(eds.) The Cradle of Language, pp. 62–92.
12. Marean, C, M. Bar-Matthews, J.
Bernatchez, E. Fisher, P. Goldberg, A.
I. R. Herries, Z. Jacobs, A. Jerardino, P.
Karkanas, T. Minichillo, P. J. Nilssen, E.
Thompson, I. Watts and H. M. Williams
2007. Early human use of marine resources
and pigment in South Africa during the
Middle Pleistocene. Nature 449: 905–908;
Watts, I. (in press). The pigments from
Pinnacle Point. Journal of Human
Evolution.
13. Marean, C. 2010. When the sea saved
humanity. Scientific American, August, pp.
41-47.
14. Power 2009.
Ian Watts gained his Ph.D. at University College London in 1998 joining the
Blombos project in 1999, and the Pinnacle Point project in 2005. Alongside his main
focus on the archaeology of early symbolic behaviours, he has published on African
hunter-gatherer initiation ritual, lunar cosmology and hunting practice.
ochrewatts@hotmail.com
markers in regions of the highest
population density.
None of this is fundamentally at
odds with Zilhão’s position on
Neanderthal symbolism, although
obviously I don’t share his gradualist
perspective on why this has to be
taken back over a million years. In
the Neanderthal case, the evolution
of symbolic culture didn’t result in
change to their archaic morphology,
but it may have been none the less
revolutionary, and probably sprung
from similar selection pressures –
enabling females to provide for their
large-brained offspring. As Zilhão
observes, why should revolution
necessarily be tied into biological
change? A critical difference for us
as researchers, however, is that in the
Homosapienscase,wecaninvestigate
predictions concerning the form of
symbolic culture not only against the
archaeological record, but also against
ethnographic data. Alas, we don’t have
Neanderthal myths against which to
test our theories today!
22 Radical Anthropology
Chris Knight
The Enigma of Noam Chomsky
Responding to Chomsky’s interview in Radical Anthropology
in Issue 2, Chris Knight explores the paradoxical relationship
between his activism and his science.
Radical Anthropology: Chomsky is
a celebrated intellectual figurehead
on the left. In your articles,
1
you
always seem negative about his
overall contribution. Why is that?
Chris Knight: I’m not negative at
all. Whenever I read Chomsky on,
say, US policy in the Middle East,
I’m always in wholehearted support.
Who else tells the truth so bluntly
and so fearlessly?
RA: So why the criticism? Some
articles – in the Weekly Worker, for
instance2
– have been pretty savage.
CK: That’s a different Chomsky.
In those articles I’m talking about
the scientist. Distinguishing
between this person and the
activist, an interviewer once asked
him: ‘What do they say to each
other when they meet?’. Chomsky
replied: ‘There is no connection,
apart from some very tenuous
relations at an abstract level…’ 3
RA: So Chomsky’s really two
people?
CK: In the 1960s he was so
active people thought there must
be six Chomskys! But, yes, two
at least. When he speaks or
writes politically, his passions are
engaged and he takes full personal
responsibility. In his scientific role,
something quite different seems to
be happening. According to his own
account, one modular component
of his brain – ‘the science-forming
capacity’ – functions autonomously
as a computational device.
4
It’s
almost as if Chomsky the activist
wasn’t responsible for the science.
That comes from a different region
of his brain.
RA:Ourreadersmightfindthishard
tobelieve.Whatdoesheactuallysay?
CK: ‘The one talent that I have
which I know many other friends
don’t seem to have’, Chomsky
explains, ‘is I’ve got some quirk in
my brain which makes it work like
separate buffers in a computer.’5
One component produces
science for a definite intellectual
constituency while the rest of him
produces political stuff for a quite
different audience. As a scientist,
he’s anxious to avoid slipping over
into politics; as an activist, he
strives to avoid anything to do with
science.6
Each separate role comes
with its own appropriate conceptual
approach and corresponding
language, resistant to translation
across the divide. ‘Now exactly
how one can maintain that sort of
schizophrenic existence I am not
sure’, Chomsky admitted on another
occasion, ‘it is very difficult’.
7
In his scientific capacity, Chomsky
views language as a biological
‘organ’ or ‘device’. As such, it’s
devoid of humour, metaphor,
emotion, communicative intent,
social meaning or anything else
people normally think of as
language. Meanwhile, the other
Chomsky continues to speak and
write much like the rest of us.
He uses language precisely to
communicate – to denounce his own
state, his own government, his own
employers, his own institutional
milieu. Short of denouncing
his own science, Chomsky
opposes just about everything he
embodies in his alternative role.
RA: Are you saying he’s twofaced
– telling one audience one
thing and another something else?
CK: The struggle to survive
under capitalism forces us all into
something like double-dealing for
much of the time. We’re forced
into collusion. We compete to find
jobs, to survive as wage-slaves,
to establish at least a modicum of
economic security for ourselves.
Yet equally we need to hold our
heads high, to maintain our selfesteem.
It’s not always easy to
reconcile such conflicting priorities.
It’s just that Chomsky exemplifies
this more sharply than most.
So ‘two-faced’ would be unfair.
I prefer to think of him as the
conscience of America. Once you
view him in that light, the mysteries
begin to clear. ‘What is important’,
as he explains, ‘is to expose the
crimes of my own state, which
are often hidden from view by
the propaganda institutions’.
8
His
political writings are directed first
and foremost against the militaryindustrial
elite employing him.
When he began working at MIT,
in his own words, ‘funding was
almost entirely the Pentagon. About
half the Institute’s budget was
I prefer to think of him as the conscience of America.
Once you view him in that light, the mysteries begin to clear
23 Radical Anthropology
coming from two major military
laboratories that they administered,
and of the rest, the academic side,
it could have been something like
90% or so from the Pentagon.
Something like that. Very high. So
it was a Pentagon-based university.
And I was at a military-funded lab.’
9
Chomsky was conducting his
researches within what had
originally been part of the MIT
RadiationLaboratory,inwhichradar
had been developed during World
War II. Now that Soviet Russia had
replaced Nazi Germany as the main
enemy, the military were interested
in developing electronic systems for
purposes of surveillance, weapons
‘command-and-control’ and so
forth.
10
Chomsky wasn’t going
to roll up his sleeves and build
anything which actually worked.
On the other hand, he had been
inspired to take up linguistics
thanks largely to his activist
friend Zellig Harris, one of whose
interests was machine translation.
The project to develop automatic
translation by equipping a machine
with something like ‘universal
grammar’ was officially part of
Chomsky’s first job. Although he
had other ideas, Chomsky evidently
felt at home analysing language in
terms of postulated ‘mechanisms’,
‘devices’, ‘circuits’, ‘switches’,
‘inputs’, ‘outputs’ and so forth. So
it’s not that Pentagon pressure to
develop their ‘language machine’
distorted Chomsky’s thinking about
how to revolutionise linguistics.
It’s not that he took the money and
sold his soul. In purely intellectual
terms, he was already there.
Now let’s consider the circles in
which he moved. In May 1995, John
Deutch was sworn in as Director
of the Central Intelligence Agency
following a unanimous vote in
the Senate, making him head of
the intelligence community – in
charge of all foreign intelligence
agencies of the United States.
Shortly afterwards, Chomsky was
interviewed about how well he’d
known Deutch as a professional
colleague at MIT. ‘We were
actually friends’, replied Chomsky,
‘and got along fine, although we
disagreed on about as many things
as two human beings can disagree
about. I liked him. We got along
very well together. He’s very honest,
very direct. You know where
you stand with him.’ 11
Chomsky
actively supported Deutch’s
candicacy for the President of
MIT, much to the surprise of his
colleagues. In the event, that bid
failed owing to faculty opposition.
It’s important to grasp what’s
happening here. How many leftwing
academics or activists
maintain friendships of that kind?
I’m not saying it’s necessarily
wrong. Once you’ve committed
yourself to your chosen profession,
you may have little choice.
But Chomsky’s ‘schizophrenic
existence’ surely starts here, among
such intense social and professional
contradictions. According to his
own account, ‘the CIA does what
it wants’, conducting assassinations,
bombings, invasions, mass murder
of civilians and various other crimes
against humanity.12
While aware of
the criminality of his institutional
milieu, Chomsky rubs shoulders
with these people, works for them,
is part of the same professional and
scientific elite. How could anyone
cope – without a modular mind?
We can surely understand the very
personal horror, almost personal
responsibility, Chomsky must have
felt while working as a respected
scientist in the belly of the beast.
Denouncing other people’s crimes,
as he puts it, is all too easy. One
must expose one’s own crimes – the
crimes of one’s own government,
one’s own institutional milieu
– to retain one’s self-esteem, to
be able to ‘look at oneself in the
mirror without too much shame’.
13
Chomsky could reconcile his
conscience with the job he loved
only by publicly lashing out. He
had to denounce the Pentagon –
the military-industrial complex
sponsoring his own research.
Insofar as that complex possessed a
conscience, Chomsky was it. He has
retained that unique status to this
day. That’s why people come from
far and wide to listen to him. It’s not
just his politics and it’s not just his
science. What attracts people – what
carries conviction– is the painfully
evident tension between the two.
RA: Yet you are implacably
opposed to his science?
CK: Chomsky resists the
behaviour of the militaryindustrial
elite while endorsing
and embodying its philosophy – its
utterly bourgeois notion of ‘science’.
Let me put it this way. Imagine the
most reactionary possible ideology.
Imagine bourgeois individualism
carried to its absolute logical
extreme. Imagine a philosopher
who took René Descartes’ dictum ‘I
think, therefore I am!’ as his point
We’re all supposed to keep political activism
locked up in a separate box, insulated by a firewall from
science. Mindless activism on the one hand; tongue-tied
science on the other – that’s been the tragic result
24 Radical Anthropology
of departure. Imagine going further
even than Descartes in insisting
that language exists only in the
individual head, not to enable social
communication but merely to enable
thought. According to this ideology,
no one else is required. You don’t
need language to share with anyone
else, listen to anyone else, learn
from anyone at all. You know it all
already thanks to your genes. As
Chomsky explained following a
lecture about language acquisition:
‘I emphasized biological facts, and I
didn’t say anything about historical
and social facts. And I am going to
say nothing about these elements in
language acquisition. The reason
is that I think they are relatively
unimportant… Learning language
is something like undergoing
puberty. You don’t learn to do it;
you don’t do it because you see
other people doing it; you are just
designed to do it at a certain time’.
14
According to Chomsky, the
underlying principles of grammar
are internal features of your
innate ‘language organ’, installed
somewhere in your brain. Even
the meanings of words are fixed
internal features of this organ, so
not even these need be learned. Take
the word ‘carburetor’, for example.
According to Chomsky, no child
needs to learn this lexical concept
because it’s already there, being
present in every child thanks to its
DNA. The child just has to find out
which locally conventional sound
to attach to the carburetor-concept
already in its brain. Asked whether
Homo sapiens possessed the
concept of a carburetor thousands of
years ago, long before the invention
of motor cars, Chomsky insists
that we must assume no less. As he
explains: ‘However surprising the
conclusion may be that nature has
provided us with an innate stock
of concepts, and that the child’s
task it to discover their labels, the
empirical facts appear to leave open
few other possibilities.’
15
So culture is irrelevant: nothing
needs to be learned. Now add to
this that you needn’t bother about
history: the language organ doesn’t
change,itdoesn’tundergosignificant
variation, it doesn’t reflect social or
political upheavals, it doesn’t evolve.
Imagine someone who claimed that
language was conferred on the first
human being in ‘perfect’ or ‘nearperfect’
form as if by ‘a divine
architect’.16
Imagine all that and
you’re getting close to the scientific
worldview of Noam Chomsky.
I’m against it not only because
it’s nonsense but also because
it’s reactionary to the nth degree.
RA: Does Chomsky really deny
language’scommunicativefunction?
CK: Language, he insists, ‘is not
properly regarded as a system of
communication… It can of course
be used for communication, as
can anything people do – manner
of walking or style of clothes or
The brain-equals-digital-computer theory marginalises anthropology.
Computers don’t have a sense of humour, don’t understand irony
or metaphor, don’t try to cheat or lie, don’t have sex,
don’t pursue political agendas
©ScienceCartoonsPlus.com
25 Radical Anthropology
hair, for example. But in any useful
sense of the term, communication
is not the function of language,
and may even be of no unique
significance for understanding the
functions and nature of language.’
17
It’s easy to see why Chomsky must
say such things. To communicate,
you need someone else. If
language were to be regarded as
communicative – hence social –
then its study would amount to some
kind of social science. Linguistics
might then have to retain some
connection with the social science
tradition, influenced as that is by
Marx. To make matters worse,
it might have to connect up with
Darwinism, hence with problems
of conflict and competition – again
matters of social dynamics, social
relationships.
Anticipating where all this might
lead, Chomsky takes pre-emptive
action. Language, he legislates, is
unconnected with anything else in
the known universe, whether natural
or cultural. It doesn’t have a history;
it didn’t evolve. ‘To tell a fairy story
about it, it is almost as if there was
some higher primate wandering
around a long time ago and some
random mutation took place, maybe
after some strange cosmic ray
shower, and it reorganized the brain,
implanting a language organ in an
otherwise primate brain’.
18
Why
would such a miracle benefit an
isolated mutant, utterly alone in the
universe – with no one to talk to?
Again, the objection is anticipated
and legislated away: ‘Actually, you
can use language even if you are
the only person in the universe with
language, and in fact it would even
have adaptive advantage. If one
person suddenly got the language
faculty, that person would have
great advantages; the person could
think, could articulate to itself its
thoughts, could plan, could sharpen,
and develop thinking as we do
in inner speech, which has a big
effect on our lives. Inner speech
is most of speech. Almost all the
use of language is to oneself....’
19
I’ve dwelt on all this not to convince
you that it’s complete nonsense.
Of course it’s complete nonsense!
That’s not my point. The job of
an anthropologist is to conduct an
analysis, something like decoding
a myth. Chomsky himself uses the
term‘fairystory’,sowecanagreeit’s
pure myth. But why this particular
myth? Why those narrative details
and not others? And why Chomsky?
Why did that particular figure
during that historical conjuncture
have to invent that curious myth?
Rather than resort to psychological
guesswork, let’s keep to things we
know about – to the institutional
constraints.ForChomskytomanage
hisbifurcatedlife,linguisticsatMIT
had to be perceived as non-political.
The Pentagon weren’t going to fund
an anarchist in his anarchist role.
His officially sponsored science
was one thing, his conscience quite
another. His entire position – at the
best of times a delicate balancing
act – required constant vigilance in
maintaining a firewall between the
two. To prevent leakage either way,
the divide had to be categorical:
eliminate every trace of political
or even social content from the
science, eliminate every trace of
scientific content from the politics.
How does all this get internalised?
Chomsky tellingly observes: ‘It’s
a very rare person, almost to the
point of non-existence, who can
tolerate what’s called “cognitive
dissonance” – saying one thing
and believing another. You start
saying certain things because it’s
necessary to say them and pretty
soon you believe them because
you just have to’.
20
Chomsky’s
achievement in this respect – his
success in splitting himself in two
– then became in subtle ways a
model for the rest of us. To this day,
we’re all supposed to keep political
activism locked up in a separate
box, insulated by a firewall from
science. Mindless activism on the
one hand; tongue-tied science on the
other – that’s been the tragic result.
RA: But isn’t this just an arcane
dispute over what language is and
how it might have evolved? Why
does it matter so much? How far can
you attack Chomsky the linguist
withoutattackinghispoliticsaswell?
CK: Chomsky has certainly
set things up to make it seem
politically difficult. Yes, the
dangers are real. I would perhaps
hold back except for one thing –
the revolution needs to be won.
RA: Winning the revolution means
overthrowing Chomsky?
CK: Winning the revolution means
overthrowing that elitist philosophy,
that politics, that class. It means
putting science first, over and
above the needs of big business or
the military. It means informing
our practice with what’s best in
modern science, while at the same
time liberating science from its
current institutional fragmentation
and political marginalisation. More
The scientific community needs to defend itself against political interference,
no matter how cleverly it is concealed. If science is to come first, we don’t
have a choice as to whether to become politically active.
If you’re inactive, you’re colluding in someone else’s politics
26 Radical Anthropology
specifically from an anthropological
point of view, winning the
revolution means gaining a proper
understanding of what it means to
be human. The idea of a mutation
suddenly installing language is
a complete distraction – in my
view a deliberate one. Whether
language emerged gradually or
suddenly, we need to understand
the precursors, the constraints and
above all the social dynamics. If the
process was sudden – as Chomsky
claims – that implies a social
revolution. Either way, we need to
learn as much as we can about that
momentous process, that event.
More effectively than any
intellectual before or since,
Chomsky has made it seem
illegitimate to base revolutionary
politics on science. Activists, he
says, should keep science at arm’s
length. You couldn’t get further
away from Marx! Here’s an example
of how he justifies that stance: ‘The
idea that deep scientific analysis
tells you something about problems
of human beings and our lives and
our inter-relations with one another
and so on is mostly pretence in my
opinion – self-serving pretence
which is itself a technique of
domination and exploitation and
should be avoided’.
21
Marxist
intellectuals, says Chomsky,
always try to manipulate the
masses by invoking the authority
of science. His own view is that
activists don’t need science at all:
everything people need to know
about political matters is present
on the surface for all to see.
RA: But maybe Chomsky is right
on that score? Surely it would be
disastrous to mix up politics with
science?
CK: Chomsky’s linguistics is
supposedly non-political. In reality,
though, it’s about as political as
you can get. Prior to Chomsky’s
intervention, no one defined
language as biology and nothing
else. While everyone agreed that
language must have biological
underpinnings, it was equally
understood to be social, cultural,
institutional to the core. It took
Chomsky to re-invent linguistics as
a rigorously ‘Cartesian’ discipline
– one confined within the borders
of supposedly ‘natural’ science.
During the late 1950s and 1960s,
Chomsky received massive
institutional support for his
intervention, which promised to
turn the tide against the continuing
intellectual influence of Marx.
To finally discredit Marx, there
seemed to be no choice but to go
the whole way – the entire western
intellectual tradition of social
science had to go. Could the clock
be turned right back to Descartes
or even to Plato? Chomsky offered
nothing less. No other intellectual
was in a position to deliver on that
extraordinary promise. No one else
had the necessary moral authority
or ambition. And as it turned
out, it was a hugely successful
attack, whose ramifications
are still very much with us.
You have to remember that
linguistics, in the immediate
post-war period, was effectively
‘the crown jewels’. It was that
discipline within the humanities
which seemed closest to natural
science. Mathematics and
physics were viewed as genuinely
scientific, unlike social science.
Language enters into everything
humans do, so whoever conquered
linguistics, subordinating it to
the methods of natural science,
might well hope to conquer the
rest. And so it turned out. In the
eyes of his supporters, Chomsky
was the figure who ‘stormed the
Winter Palace’, acting as the most
prominent standard-bearer for the
so-called ‘cognitive revolution’
which quickly came to dominate
much of linguistics, psychology,
cognitive science and philosophy.
He didn’t have to engage directly
with anthropology: the revolution
was powerful enough to produce
ripples almost everywhere. The
agenda was to discredit Marxism
and replace it with a ‘naturalised’
psychology – psychology
conceptualised as natural science.
Cultural and social phenomena
would from now on be explained by
invoking this or that module, this
or that fixed property of the brain
conceived as a digital computer.
Central to the ‘cognitive revolution’
was this bizarre idea: the human
brain is a digital computer. It’s
a theory which marginalises
evolutionary biology, anthropology,
sociology and the humanities
in general – intentionally so.
Computers don’t have a sense
of humour, don’t understand
irony or metaphor, don’t try to
cheat or lie, don’t have sex, don’t
pursue political agendas. Look at
Chomsky’s language organ: it’s as
disembodied and lifeless as that.
There’s apparently no connection
with the rest of the brain, and no
connection either with the rest of
natural or social life. Provoked by
Chomsky as he relentlessly pursued
The thread connecting Khlebnikov via Jakobson to Lévi-Strauss
and Chomsky was a certain conception of freedom — a yearning
for necessity imposed not externally but from within
27 Radical Anthropology
his ‘revolutionary’ agenda, the
‘linguistics wars’ of the 1960s and
1970s were a disaster for everyone
– an intellectual defeat from
which we still haven’t recovered.
The outcome is that our current
state of knowledge resembles a
broken mirror, each fragment
telling its own story. We need to put
together the big picture, fighting for
conceptual unification regardless
of the political consequences. You
can’t get away from politics – from
power differences, conflicts of
interest and so forth. In principle,
however, scientific research involves
accountability and collaboration on
a level transcending such things.
The scientific community needs
to defend itself against political
interference, no matter how cleverly
it is concealed. If science is to
come first, we don’t have a choice
as to whether to become politically
active. If you’re inactive, you’re
colluding in someone else’s politics.
RA: Can you explain the impact
on Darwinism of that ‘cognitive
revolution’?
CK: A completely new version
of Darwinism emerged, based
on the idea that humans alter
their behaviour according to how
corresponding ‘modules’ evolve
inside their heads. Nobody ever
thought of explaining animal
behaviour in this way, but then
no one ever thought of animal
brains as digital computers –
they’re evidently nothing of the
kind. So we had this new kind of
Darwinism, utterly different from
anything Darwin himself could
remotely have envisaged. Described
by its supporters as ‘evolutionary
psychology’, it has only ever been
applied to just one species – our
own. Have you ever heard of
‘the evolutionary psychology of
elephants’? Or ‘the evolutionary
psychology of social insects’? Such
things don’t exist because no selfrespecting
biologist would ever
consider going down that road. You
can’t study animals by extrapolating
from supposed computational
mechanisms inside their brains.
Animals think, they are intelligent,
they are conscious in various ways.
But to understand what’s happening,
scientists set out from what they do.
So-called ‘evolutionary psychology’
is restricted to humans because
our minds alone are imagined
to be digital computers whose
internal features can be studied
independently of what we actually
do.
A person, according to evolutionary
psychologist Steven Pinker, is a
‘digital mind in an analog world’.
22
The mind/brain is a digital
computer, so it doesn’t matter
what the physical brain is actually
made of – digital ‘software’ (mind)
carries identical information
regardless of the ‘hardware’ (brain)
on which it runs. So let’s ignore
matter: mind comes first. In similar
spirit, archaeologist Steven Mithen
pictures Homo sapiens evolving
with a mind divided up into (a)
social, (b) natural history and (c)
technological intelligence – three
computational modules in all.
23
But what about, say, shamanism?
What’s the modular explanation for
that? The answer duly appeared in a
scholarly journal: shamanism is the
distinctive output of a previously
unsuspected ‘soul flight, soul
journey, out-of-body experience
and astral projection’ module.24
And so it goes on. Anthropologist
Pascal Boyer views religious ideas
as wholly ‘natural’: the modular
brain determines which notions
floating around are likely to get
discarded and which passed on.
25
Pioneers in establishing this
Alice-in-Wonderland approach
are psychologists John Tooby
and Leda Cosmides. Not satisfied
with modules in single digits,
they need vast armies to solve
every conceivable problem. ‘On
this view’, as they explain, ‘our
cognitive architecture resembles
a confederation of hundreds of
thousands of functionally dedicated
computers (often called modules)
designed to solve adaptive problems
endemic to our hunter-gatherer
ancestors. Each of these devices
has its own agenda and imposes
its own exotic organization
on different fragments of the
world’.
26
Invent enough modules
and you can ‘naturalistically’
explain what you like.
RA: And the effect on
anthropology?
CK: In anthropology, the results
have been far-reaching and
overwhelmingly reactionary. Take,
say, the study of cargo cults in
Melanesia. When these were first
studied, anthropologists treated
them as indigenous responses
to colonial and post-colonial
exploitation. The natives apparently
suffered from a strange delusion. In
the light of their own tribal values,
they imagined there must be justice
somewhere in the world. When
forced to concede that this wasn’t
so – the rule of the white man was
manifestly unjust – they refused
Have you ever heard of ‘the evolutionary psychology of elephants’?
Or ‘the evolutionary psychology of social insects’?
								 Such things don’t exist
28 Radical Anthropology
to give up. Instead, they shifted
responsibility from the living to
the dead. On the day when the dead
returned to life and established
their own rule, justice would at last
be done and seen to be done. The
white man’s cargo planes and ships
destined for distant lands would
miraculously reverse direction,
bringing untold riches to those who
had created all that wealth in the
first place.
27
The new ‘modular’
approach, however, is to explain
such phenomena psychologically.
Exploitation and oppression
conveniently disappear. The natives’
puzzling behaviour is instead
traced back to ‘micro-processes
at the psychological level’.
28
The
mind is a mass of computational
modules, and sometimes glitches
arise. The effect, needless to say, is
to exonerate western capitalism and
colonialism. You can guess who’ll
befundingthiskindofanthropology
and whose interests are served!
RA: Would you bracket Darwin
and Marx together as victims
of the cognitive revolution?
It seems an unlikely alliance.
CK: Darwin and Marx differed
on many things, but they shared a
belief in the value of conflict, of
internal social struggle, of ‘civil
war’ as engines of change. All
history is the history of life-anddeath
struggle for survival, whether
between organisms (Darwin) or
classes (Marx). Neither Darwin
nor Marx saw the individual
mind, whether animal or human,
as capable of explaining anything.
Both were materialists in that
they looked to the body and its
material interactions – the struggle
to find food, to reproduce and so
on – to explain whatever might
be happening in anyone’s mind.
RA: Presumably Chomsky is
not some malevolent scheming
mastermind in the pay of the
Pentagon? What is the intellectual
ancestry here? How does someone
of left-wing anarchist inclination
end up generating reactionary
scientific theory? Is there some
dialectical process starting
from a revolutionary tradition?
CK: During revolutionary periods,
those struggling for freedom
invariably resist the prevailing
deterministic logic – the deadening
belief in iron laws beyond anyone’s
power to defy or overthrow. If
revolution is imminent, why not
seize the moment? Why not defy
the law and, while you’re about it,
why not take on nature’s laws as
well?
During and immediately following
the Russian revolution, artists, poets,
musicians and other revolutionary
intellectuals became seized with
such hopes and dreams, letting
their imaginations run wild. This
was the period of cubo-futurism
and constructivism – libertarian
communist/anarchist movements
based on the idea that art was for
changing reality, not just passively
reflectingit.Formtakespriorityover
content. You dream, you play, you
fantasize – and you fight to realize
those dreams. In this spirit, Darwin
and Marx are turned on their heads.
Those stereotypically grey-bearded,
grim thinkers’ rigidly deterministic,
spiritually imprisoning ‘laws of
history’ – whether natural or human
– are cheerfully defied and turned
upside-down. Revolution transports
you from the realm of necessity to
that of freedom.
The Russian poet who soared
highest with such ideas was Velimir
Khlebnikov – the ‘King of Time’
celebrated for predicting the date of
the 1917 revolution back in 1912.
29
Khlebnikov’s extraordinary theories
about mathematics, historical time
and language – about the power
of the imagination and the magic
of words – heavily influenced
the young linguist and literary
critic Roman Jakobson. Why does
Jakobson matter? Well, in the 1920s
he co-founded the Prague school of
linguistics. He later became Claude
Lévi-Strauss’ close friend and
source of theoretical inspiration.
One final point: in the 1950s,
from his office in MIT, Jakobson
helped Chomsky to get his first job.
RA: So there’s a thread linking
Khlebnikov to Chomsky?
CK: I’ve no evidence Chomsky ever
heard of Khlebnikov. But Jakobson
was a huge influence on twentieth
century linguistics, hence inevitably
on Chomsky. Jakobson when only a
teenager mingled intimately with
Khlebnikov, Mayakovsky and the
other ‘futurists’ or ‘cubo-futurists’,
as they called themselves.
30
These
iconoclasts instinctively embraced
the October revolution, becoming
in many ways its principal artistic
expression. Khlebnikov explored
word roots in his native Russian
convinced that he could unearth
a ‘transrational’ language of pure
sounds common to humanity. While
perhaps not very scientific, his work
inspired Jakobson, who helped
found a school of linguistics which
eventually produced ‘distinctive
features’ theory. If anything about
linguistics was truly ‘scientific’,
this was widely tipped to be it. The
approach reaches beneath cultural
variation to the bedrock of human
nature – to genetically determined
biology and psychology. The
pharynx, tongue, lips and so
forth function as digital switches,
offering no intermediate states
between lips ‘open’ and lips ‘closed’,
voicing ‘off’ and voicing ‘on’.
By combining selected ‘features’
Agitrop poster by Vladimir Mayakovsky
29 Radical Anthropology
of this categorical kind, you can
generate any vowel or consonant in
any of the world’s languages. So it’s
a kind of universal language rooted
in a natural digital apparatus – a
universal alphabet of pure sounds.
Is language in its entirety a
digital system? And if so, is that
a reflection of the innate digital
architecture of the distinctively
human mind? Under the
influence of Jakobson, LéviStrauss
invented ‘structural
anthropology’ on the basis of
just that idea. A decade later,
Chomsky was gravitating
around the same body of
theory. Might it be possible, he
wondered, to extend distinctive
features theory from phonetics
through syntax all the way to
meaning – to the possibility
of some kind of ‘generative
semantics’? The idea seemed
thrilling since it offered the
prospect of explaining language in
all its aspects in purely biological,
purely naturalistic terms. What
happened next is a long story.
Suffice it to say that from the
moment it was seriously attempted,
Chomsky realised the idea wouldn’t
work. Intractable problems led to
bitter disputes culminating in the
infamous ‘linguistics wars’. Despite
this, Chomsky has never let go of
the basic idea. He continues to view
semantic meanings as somehow
‘internal’ – as genetically fixed
features of the digital mind. The
thread connecting Khlebnikov
via Jakobson to Lévi-Strauss
and ultimately Chomsky is a
certain conception of freedom – a
yearning for necessity imposed
not externally but from within.
RA: So a school of linguistics
originating among Russian
revolutionary anarchists ends up
being sponsored by the US militaryindustrial
establishment?
CK: Yes. And to understand that
trajectory is to decode a good
chunk of the twentieth century.
Why, for example, was Chomsky
working at MIT in the first place?
Why did it seem politically
acceptable for an anarchist to rub
shoulders like that with the US
scientific and military elite? Let’s
remember how all this started. Go
back to the 1930s and to Hitler’s
rise in Germany. Across Europe
you had a generation of young
scientists, many of them Jewish
anti-fascists and sympathisers with
the revolutionary cause. When
war broke out, it was mathematics
against the Nazis, nuclear physics
against the Nazis, digital computers
against the Nazis. In Britain, Alan
Turing – theoretical genius behind
the digital computer – helped
crack the Enigma Code used by
the Germans to encrypt military
communications. In the United
States, of course, scientists
were working feverishly on
the Manhattan Project – the
project to develop the first
nuclear bomb. If you wanted
an Allied victory, why not work
for their war machine, for the
military-industrial complex, for
your own side’s secret agents
and spies? Wasn’t it all part
of the same anti-fascist fight?
A teenager during those years,
Chomsky was too much of an
anarchist to feel comfortable
about collusion with the state.
His instincts verged on pacifism:
he went quiet on hearing the
terrible news about Hiroshima and
Nagasaki. Yet the idea of science
against the Nazis was central to
the political ethos of the time,
especially if – like Chomsky – you
were left-wing and Jewish. And that
political culture didn’t just die at the
end of the war. It lived on. When
Chomsky took up linguistics before
getting his job at MIT, it was with
the encouragement of Zellig Harris,
Roman Jakobson and a network of
radicalised scientists and scholars
in positions of influence, many
of them refugees fortunate to
have escaped the gas chambers
Inputs and outputs: the Enigma machine
Kazimir Malevich, ‘The Knife-Grinder’. 1912 Velimir Khlebnikov: ‘the King of Time’
30 Radical Anthropology
in Europe. Chomsky’s approach
appealed to them because it seemed
almost mathematical, promising
understanding beyond mere politics
or ideology. Could Chomsky be
the Galileo of our age, destined to
revolutionize the known world? His
friends gave him the benefit of the
doubt, ensuring his meteoric rise
to ascendancy over linguistics and
much else. Revolutionaries usually
have to fight their way up. In
Chomsky’s case, the gods seemed
to be hoisting him aloft.
By the 1950s, of course, the official
enemy was no longer Germany – it
was the Soviet Union. But it wasn’t
difficult for the US propaganda
machine to depict Stalin as the new
Hitler, Moscow as the new centre of
all evil, the new totalitarian threat.
In place of science against the
Nazis, you could now have science
against Marxism – natural science
against oppressive and fraudulent
so-called ‘social science’. That
was the political thrust behind
Chomsky’s ‘cognitive revolution’.
Having defeated its enemy on the
right, US imperialism needed to
target the left.
RA: What’s the relevance of
all this to our present situation?
CK: There’s no point waiting
around for a genetic mutation.
Becoming human didn’t depend on
that when language first emerged
and it certainly doesn’t depend on
it now. We need to become aware
of the intelligence and power we
already have. We’ve invented
the internet – the necessary
communications technology – but
its potential has yet to be realised.
For that, we need a revolution
embracing life, politics and science.
We need to bring together the social
and natural sciences and help solve
the mystery of human origins.
Whatever the details, the process
of becoming human was social.
My commitment is to the human
revolution: the most successful
social revolution in history! We
did it once; we can do it again.
RA: So when is the revolution? Any
forecasts?
CK: 2017 could be a good year!
Notes
1. Chris Knight 2004. Decoding Chomsky.
European Review Vol. 12, No. 4, 581-603.
http://www.radicalanthropologygroup.org/
old/class_text_070.pdf
2. Chris Knight 2007. The Chomsky
Enigma. Weekly Worker, 655 (January 11).
US Establishment Anarchist. Weekly Worker
656 (January 18). Chomsky’s Parallel Lives.
Weekly Worker 657 (January 25).
3. The treachery of the intelligentsia: A
French travesty. Interview dated 26 October
1981. In Noam Chomsky 1988, Language
and Politics. Edited by Carlos Otero.
Montreal: Black Rose Books, p. 318.
4. Noam Chomsky 1988. Language and
Problems of Knowledge. Cambridge, MA:
MIT Press, p. 156.
5. Interview with David Barsamian. In
Noam Chomsky 1996, Class Warfare.
London: Pluto Press, p. 15.
6. Noam Chomsky 2000. The Architecture of
Language. Oxford: Oxford University Press, p. 2.
7. Interview with Carlos Otero. In Noam
Chomsky 1988, Language and Politics, p.
98.
8. The treachery of the intelligentsia, p. 319.
9. Interview with David Barsamian, p. 102.
10. Frederick Newmeyer 1986. The Politics
of Linguistics. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, pp. 84-87.
11. Interview with David Barsamian, p. 101.
12. Noam Chomsky 1988. The ‘right
turn’ in U.S. policy (22 October 1986). In
Language and Politics, p. 649.
13. Interview with James Peck. In Noam
Chomsky 1988. The Chomsky Reader.
Edited by James Peck. London: Serpent’s
Tail, p. 55.
14. Chomsky 1988. Language and Problems
of Knowledge, pp. 173-4.
15. Noam Chomsky 2000. New Horizons in
the Study of Language and Mind. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, pp. 65-6.
16. Noam Chomsky 1997. Powers and
Prospects. Reflections on human nature and
the social order. London: Pluto Press, pp. 29-30.
17. Noam Chomsky 2002. On Nature
and Language. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, p. 76.
18. Chomsky 2000. The Architecture of
Language, p. 4.
19. Chomsky 2002. On Nature and
Language, p. 148.
20. Chomsky 1988. The ‘right turn’ in U.S.
policy, pp. 653-4.
21. Chomsky 2000. The Architecture of
Language, p. 2.
22. Steven Pinker 1999. Words and Rules.
The ingredients of language. London:
Weidenfeld & Nicolson, pp. 269-287.
23. Steven Mithen 1996. A Prehistory of the
Mind. London: Thames & Hudson.
24. Michael Winkelman 2002. Shamanism
and cognitive evolution. Cambridge
Archaeological Journal, 12:1: 71-101.
25. Pascal Boyer, 1994. The Naturalness of
Religious Ideas. Berkeley & Los Angeles:
University of California Press.
26. John Tooby and Leda Cosmides
1995. Foreword. Simon Baron-Cohen,
Mindblindness. An essay on autism and
theory of mind. Cambridge, MA: MIT
Press, pp. xi-xviii.
27. Peter Worsley 1968. The Trumpet Shall
Sound. London: MacGibbon & Kee.
28. Robert McCauley and E. Thomas
Lawson 2002. Bringing Ritual to Mind.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
p. 180.
29. Velimir Khlebnikov, 1990. The King
of Time. Selected Writings of the Russian
Futurian. Edited by Charlotte Douglas and
translated by Paul Schmidt. Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press.
30. Jakobson, R. 1997. My Futurist Years.
New York: Marsilio.
Chris Knight is Professor of Anthropology at Comenius University, Bratislava,
having been sacked by University of East London’s corporate management
for his role in organising the G20 demonstrations in April 2009. chris.knight@live.com
NeilJackson
31 Radical Anthropology
Felix Padel
Deconstructing War on Terror
Watching from the frontline of the Indian ‘civil war’, Felix Padel
urges anthropology to wake us up to the reality of ‘terror’.
W
hen I first studied
anthropology, one
of the books that
excited me most
was Rodney Needham’s Right
and Left (1973). If dual symbolic
classification is intrinsic to most
tribal societies, it assumes a more
extremeforminmodernmainstream
culture, from Left and Right in
politics, to winners and losers in a
game of football, sanctifying the
principle of competition.
An American traveler I met visited
a remote tribal community in
Brazil. Missionaries had taught the
boys to play football. The American
loved this game, and when he joined
in, the temperature rose until two
boys fell down, locked in a fight. At
this, one of the men appeared with
a spear, and speared the football
through its middle. The American
was utterly shocked. ‘The football
was sacred to me, and I asked the
kids, why did he do that?’ He saw
the men collecting in a semicircle
facing the forest, each speaking as
the spirit moved him, and asked the
kids ‘what are they saying?’ One
of the boys said, ‘Our parents don’t
like this game. They think it divides
us.’ ‘Stars went off in my head when
I heard that,’ the American told me.
What anthropology offers is ways
of seeing ourselves afresh, through
other people’s eyes. Perhaps the
core area, where we have failed to
develop at all, is in the problem of
power. ‘Democracy’ is often a sham.
Elected politicians depend on funds
from corporations and banks that
set an agenda towards short-term
profit for the controlling elite, whose
complex social structure of divided
labour, involving accountancy
and law firms, hedge funds and
commodity analysts, calls out for
clear anthropological analysis.
Critically, social anthropology has
the expertise to make a radical
contribution to defusing the insane
‘war on terror’ presently engulfing
our world. Beneath terror as a
weapon of war, being waged by
governments and armies through
high-tech weapons systems and by
‘terrorists’onbehalfofmarginalized,
oppressed populations, lurks another
terror – repeatedly played on –
which anthropologists are in the
perfect position to assuage: fear of
‘the other’.
The war on terror emerges from an
ideology that believes in a ‘clash
of civilisations’ – in other words,
from a long history of intolerance
and misunderstanding between
different kinds of society. As
experts in ‘other cultures’, and in
reflective understanding of our
own, mainstream society from the
perspective of other cultures, isn’t it
a responsibility for anthropologists
to play a more proactive role? The
invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan
set a new model of war. This
has already had an influence on
escalating wars in other countries,
to horrific effect in Sri Lanka,
and provided the example for
widespread attacks on villages in
the war against Maoists in tribal
areas of central India. Arguably,
this is one of the worst wars there
has ever been in India, though
poorly comprehended by the media
or travellers to the country.
India’s Adivasi (indigenous or tribal)
areas are presently witnessing a
‘Highland Clearances’ comparable
to the genocidal removal of
indigenous societies all over
America and Australia. Adivasi
land and resources are being taken
over on precisely the same rationale
as Scottish clansmen were cleared
from their crofts during the 19th
century: for being ‘uneconomic’.
Cartel-style control of prices of
food grains as well as metal ores,
and the devaluation of long-term
sustainability in relation to shortterm
profit, spell death for millions
of small-scale farmers in India and
other ‘developing countries’. The
very term ‘developing countries’
implies a hierarchy, in which rich
western countries are ‘ahead’ and
set the model. Surely, enforced
industrialisation displacing
sustainable farming has reached its
limits and needs reversing?
Conflicts over land and resources
enveloping hundreds of areas
threaten to transform India from
a land of villages to a situation
where most of the countryside is
being farmed more ‘economically’
by the bio-tech companies and
their associates (according to top
Adivasi land and resources are being taken over on precisely the
same rationale as Scottish clansmen were cleared from their crofts
during the 19th century: for being ‘uneconomic’
32 Radical Anthropology
economist Jeff Sachs and India’s
Home Minister P. Chidambaram).
Vast mineral deposits are being
‘utilised’ – extraction of nonrenewable
mineral and water wealth
transforming large fertile areas
into industrial wastelands. Scores
of people’s movements against the
takeover of land and resources face
harsh repression, hardly reported in
the world’s media. One example is
the state violence brought against
villagers resisting Tata’s new steel
plant being built on tribal land at
Kalinganagar in Orissa.
1
The vicious repression and lack
of justice faced by people in these
movements adds to the appeal of
Maoist armed struggle. But as soon
as a movement can be shown to
be taken over by alleged Maoists,
the armed police are sent in, and
village land is forcibly taken over
with impunity. The highest-paying
market for steel and aluminium
is the arms industry, burgeoning
in India, and at the heart of the
economy of all the ‘developed
countries’ – a ‘double death’, since
this civil war in India’s tribal
heartland is promoted, consciously
or unconsciously, in pursuit of
metals for war.
2
The arms industry,
arguably, is at the centre of the
world’s economy, little discussed in
relation to the financial crisis, just
as the metals industry that feeds it is
little discussed in relation to global
heating, even though it is among the
main agents.
What is new is encapsulated in
the name: ‘War on Terror’. Before
we can conceive of ways to bring
peace to so many inflamed
situations, perhaps we – and our
leaders – have to go deeper into
understanding the contradictions
inherent in a ‘war on terror’.
To do this, anthropology is
crucial. Many people turn to
anthropologyfromadeepinterest
in what makes human beings
tick, and what could solve the
world’s problems. Too often they
are disappointed by jargonistic
models, that still subordinate
analysing mainstream social
structures to studying marginal
groups, including the world’s
last remaining tribal societies.
Tribal societies have a vast
amount still to teach us – but
this can only happen by learning
from them how to see ourselves
afresh, rather than by continuing
to treat them as ‘objects of study’.
We need ‘reverse anthropology’,
that draws on other cultures’ ways
of understanding us as well as
them. If anthropology has value,
what analysis and insights can we
offer that carry an authoritative
perspective on how to end the war
on terror?
Contradictions in the idea of ‘war
on terror’ operate on several levels.
Confusion in the concept acts as
a smokescreen, dispersing clear
thinking. For one, linguistically,
the phrase does not make sense:
how can war be waged on an
abstract noun? Contradictions in the
concept go back to the ‘terrorist’
label applied to Armenians in
Turkey during the first world war,
used to justify genocide. They are
well analysed in relation to US
interventions in Latin America in
Edward Herman’s The real terror
network (1982).
Generating the linguistic distortion,
the basic error is an assumption that
‘others’ are the ones using terror
as a tactic, rather than ‘us’. Yet it
is obvious that both sides in every
war use terror as a tactic, and ‘shock
and awe’ tactics used in the invasion
of Iraq set a model of extreme use
of terror against civilians as well
as enemy soldiers. The Wikileaks
release of over 90,000 documents on
the Afghan war (July 2010) reveals
what anyone who has followed the
war closely already knew well:
that thousands of civilian deaths
have been caused by ‘allied forces’
as well as Taliban. Many of these
deaths are, in effect, war crimes,
and have been covered up by those
pursuing the war.
If the two sides in the war on terror
both use terror as a tactic, and
often show themselves as ruthlessly
uncaring about loss of life and
suffering they cause, they differ
in one main respect. ‘Terrorists’
use low-tech tactics: guerilla
warfare, suicide bombings, videoed
beheadings... This is war waged by
‘the wretched of the earth’, fuelled
by outrage at the double standards
that treat the deaths of civilians in
the world’s top cities as far worse
than civilian deaths in faraway
countries ‘where we can’t even say
the name’.
3
Yet both sides use not just extreme
violence and intimidation by terror
(of civilians as well as fighters),
they also use the concept of
‘sacrifice’. UK and US politicians
behave exactly like Al Qaeda and
Taliban in speaking of our own
men’s deaths in terms of sacrifice.
Neither side speaks of sacrificing
civilian lives by their own actions,
whether ‘collateral damage’ from
aerial attacks or suicide bombings.
‘Our brave boys’ are heroes whose
sacrifice makes us proud, just as
we know that every ‘terrorist’ or
insurgent group refers to deaths of
their fighters in terms of sacrifice
and martyrdom. This concept of
Author on the bauxite-capped summit of a mountain
threatened with mining near Karlapat in Orissa
33 Radical Anthropology
sacrifice fuels the conflict.
In a sense, the model of a justified
war is premised on this idea:
Casualties of civilians as well as
fighters are justified by noble ends.
This is a concept of human sacrifice
on a scale that eclipses all the
prehistoric models known to history
and anthropology.
In discussions of the Wikileaks that
now admit allied soldiers have killed
many civilians in Afghanistan (as
in Iraq), this is still hedged with ‘of
course, far fewer than the Taliban
have killed’. But is this true? With
statistics, everything depends what
one is counting. There have been
few let-ups in killings of Afghan
civilians since the time of Soviet
intervention and western funding
of anti-Soviet jihadists, till now.
When ‘the allies’ decided to attack
Afghanistan in the wake of 9/11,
they set in motion an escalation
in violence that has not ceased.
Whether allied soldiers or Talib
have killed more civilians could
be debated forever. But the pattern
of violence, arrests and torture by
allied soldiers has led to at least
100,000 deaths in Afghanistan.
Women’s groups in Afghanistan
have been as outspoken as anyone
about excesses by occupying
soldiers, and their alliance with
Afghan warlords who have acted
as repressively towards women as
the Taliban. An estimate by the
Afghan women’s group RAWA put
the number of civilians killed by US
jets in October-December 2001 at
over 3,000 – already exceeding the
civilians killed in the 9/11 attack.
4
Many other governments and
security forces have followed the
example set by these ‘legitimate’
wars. Escalation of the PalestineIsraeli
conflict, Turkey’s war against
the PKK and Kurds, Russia’s
Chechen wars, and ‘Operation
Tribal Hunt’ in central India
5
are
similar in their devastating effects
on civilian populations.
The plight of Turkey’s Kurdish
population is one of the world’s
worst-reported conflicts. An
estimated 6,000 Kurdish
villages have been destroyed and
depopulated, producing a stream
of refugees and an ongoing cultural
genocide, since the 1980s. PKK
resistance has been noted for
its maintenance of ‘honourable’
standards – such as observing the
Geneva Conventions, whereas PKK
fighters are regularly tortured.
Labelling the PKK as terrorists,
as happened in Britain in 2000,
has been strongly questioned
by a range of campaigners, and
arguably is only maintained
because Turkey is seen as a key
ally of the West.
6
Anna Politskaya’s
reporting on Chechniya documents
another extreme example of brutal
occupation and invasion of a remote
population, who lost any recourse to
justice,
7
a situation tacitly condoned
by Western powers.
The slow escalation towards civil
war in India’s tribal areas gathered
pace in mid-2005, when many
shady deals were signed between
state governments and mining
companies. Deals signed for more
iron ore mines and steel plants in
South Chhattisgarh immediately
preceded the formation of Salwa
Judum, a tribal militia that was
claimed to be a ‘spontaneous tribal
uprising against the Maoists’, but
was actually a police-armed outfit,
under non-tribal leadership, that
has burnt over 600 tribal villages
in Dantewara district alone. The
pattern that has emerged is of Salwa
Judum attacking tribal villages,
killing and raping selected victims,
burning the houses, and forcing
captives into roadside refugee
camps, where men and youths
are forced to join the militia.
Since some part of most villages
escaped to the Maoist side, civil
war aptly describes the situation,
and the attempt by many villagers
not to take sides becomes next to
impossible. Both sides use terror
tactics, and while Maoist atrocities
are well-publicised in the media,
human rights reports suggest that
atrocities by Salwa Judum and
security forces are much more
common. A recent interview by a
senior Director of Police lists largescale
abuse by armed police, and
the failure to bring perpetrators to
justice, as a principal fuel stoking
tribal recruitment to the Maoist
armed struggle.8
Repeal of the
Armed Forces Special Powers Act
(which guarantees impunity for
offenders in uniform) could go a
long way to bringing peace.
Adivasi culture has an ingrained
regard for truth and law. Niyam
Raja, ‘King of Law’, is a supreme
deity for Dongria Konds, the tribe
resisting the takeover of their
sacred mountain for bauxite mining
by Vedanta Resources, registered
in London. One Kond elder, who
had come to demonstrate outside
India’s Supreme Court at the legal
process which in effect sold this
mountain in exchange for huge
sums the company would have
to pay for ‘tribal development’,
‘forestation programs’ and ‘wildlife
management’, described a particular
judge’s role with the words: Taro
karma, amoro dharma - his the
karma/action/sin, ours the dharma/
duty/law.
An ecological awareness permeates
UK and US politicians behave
exactly like Al Qaeda and Taliban in
speaking of our own men’s deaths in
terms of sacrifice
34 Radical Anthropology
Mountains where bauxite has been
mined lose their water-holding
capacity: the monsoon water runs
straight off, perennial stream dry
up, and farmland below loses its
fecundity.
‘Where are the saints in your
society? Here we’re all saints’ are
words of another Kond elder, his
tribal spirituality: a sense of laws
upholding a balance of life. The
4,000-foot summits are sacred to
Niyam Raja, with a taboo on cutting
trees that has left a covering of
primary forest in his honour, with a
clear understanding that this helps
nourish the mountain’s fertile,
mineral-rich perennial streams.
meaning that in a traditional tribal
village, people share what they have,
with no one much richer or poorer
than others, and no waste. Could
we relearn the joys of sharing?
Could we start by enforcing caps on
salaries and a ceiling on wealth, to
ensure that food and other resources
can be shared in the interests of
everyone? What about long-term
protection of the environment
alongside the community rights of
those who have lived sustainably
with their environment?
Anthropology has a major role to
play in opening people’s minds.
‘Where are the saints in your society?
Here we’re all saints’
Notes
1. Javed Iqbal: ‘The Unending war of
Kalinga’, in The New Indian Express,
17.4.2010, http://expressbuzz.com/
searchresult/javed-iqbal
2. Padel: ‘Mining as a fuel for war’, in The
broken rifle, no.77, February 2008, on War
Resisters International website, http://www.
wri-irg.org/br75-en.htm
3. A line in a song by Jackson Brown.
Felix Padel is an independent anthropologist, currently a senior visiting fellow at the Institute
of Rural Managament at Anand in Gujarat [IRMA] and an honorary fellow at Durham
University. His first book Sacrificing People: Invasions of a Tribal Landscape (Orient
BlackSwan 2010) has been republished while his second Out of this Earth: East India Adivasis
and the Aluminium Cartel (Orient BlackSwan 2010) is coauthored with Samarendra Das.
Dongria woman
FromAmarendra&SamarendraDas’documentary,‘Earthworm,Companyman’,2005
4.Seumas Milne: ‘The innocent dead in a
coward’s war: Estimates suggest US bombs
have killed at least 3,767 civilians’, 20.12.2001,
at http://www.rawa.org/civilian.htm
5.Javed Iqbal: ‘Operation tribal hunt’, in
TNIE, 15.11.2009, http://expressbuzz.com/
searchresult/javed-iqbal
6.‘Memorandum for the information of
the Home Secretary of the UK: Listing of
the Kurdish Workers’ Party as a terrorist
organisation’, 14.4.2010.
7.A Small Corner of Hell, 2003.
8.Shoma Chaudhury: ‘Bringing on
the army against the naxals will be a
disaster’, in Tehelka, 12 June 2010, at
http://www.tehelka.com/story_main45.
asp?filename=Ne120610
bringing_on.asp
Editor’s Note:
On August 24, 2010,
shortly after this article
was written, India’s
Environment Minister
Jairam Ramesh blocked
Vedanta Resources’
controversial plan to mine
bauxite on the Dongria
Kond tribe’s sacred hills.
Ramesh cited ‘shocking
and blatant disregard’
by Vedanta for protected
tribal groups. In this
test case, the Indian
government has set an
example to the world.
Some things are sacred.
35 Radical Anthropology
Rupert Read
Avatar: A call to save the future
Rupert Read reviews the criticisms levelled at the film Avatar
and sees it as a call to action.
“The universe is a communion of
subjects, not a collection of objects.”
Thomas Berry
A
vatar begins with a dream.
A dream of flying: over
a beautiful place with
an intact ecosystem. We
might call it: a dream of Earth. A
dream of what Earth has been, and
could be again, if we restore its
ecosystems. Avatar quickly follows
this with a long sleep and an absence
of dreaming. The protagonist,
the narrator, an everyman,
our avatar in the film, tells us
that if you are cryogenically
suspended, “You don’t dream
at all.”
The film invites us, by
contrast, to dream. It suggests
to us that to dream is to live;
that to live without dreaming
is not really to live at all.
That if we live like that, then
we might as well already be
in cryo. In other words: the
“You” in the above quotation
is you. The film suggests to
us also that we need to wake
up, that we need to open our
eyes, to become enlightened.
1
The film opens with the
protagonist’s eyes closed.
Perhaps it isn’t surprising
then that it ends with a shot of
a pair of eyes – the same eyes,
and yet not the same, as at the start
of the film – opening.
The Na’vi call the avatars
‘dreamwalkers’. This seems a
desperately apposite term. So
long as the avatars stay aloof from
the lived socio-ecological reality
of the world in which they find
themselves – so long as humans
fantasise themselves as separate
from their/our world – they are just
as if dreaming. They are merely
dreaming, as opposed perhaps to
deeply or great-heartedly dreaming.
They need to wake up — and find
that the dream is real. As Jake
himself puts it: ‘Everything is
backwards now. Like out there
[on the living surface of Pandora]
is the true world, and in here [in
the artificial atmosphere of the
Earthlings’ colonial outpost] is the
dream…’.
I want to invite you, the reader, to
join the dream. I shall proceed by
identifying the obstacles to doing
so – the key objections that have
been made against Avatar – and
dispensing with them, one by one.
The ‘sentimentalisation’
objection
To the charge that Avatar
sentimentalises its world,
2
we can
reply in the negative. For Pandora
is a world much more naturally
hostile than ours — there are no
fluffy bunnies here. The Pandoran
jungle is a morass of menace.
Our hero in the film is repeatedly,
contemptuously described by his
love (before she loves him) as
‘like a baby’: he has no clue how
to survive in this natural, hostile
world. He doesn’t know what to do.
Similarly, we are at sea, so many of
us, now, in nature; and this will be
a serious problem, if we are ever
forced back to relying
on it again…as we will
be. This is why we tend
to deny and fear nature,
and cling to hope of
techno-fixes as solutions
to our environmental,
economic, and even our
spiritual malaise. But
Avatar suggests various
kinds of limits to such
fixes. In particular, it
suggests that the technofix
mentality involves
at its core an evasion
and a loss: evasion of
our true nature; loss of
the sense of beauty and
connectedness that it
can yield up for us.
Of course, being ‘like
a baby’ can have its
upsides too, if one needs
to see things genuinely
afresh, to wake up… to be reborn…
This is just what happens to the
protagonist in Avatar in two ways.
First, this is why he becomes a
student of the Na’vi, in an obvious
instance of ‘reverse anthropology’
from the moment when he says to
Neytiri, ‘If I’m like a child, then
maybe you should teach me.’ She
replies, ‘Some people cannot learn,
Two Na’vi protested outside Vedanta’s AGM
©SurvivalInternational
36 Radical Anthropology
you do not see.’ She is right. He
seems to know this, responding,
‘Then teach me how to see.’ She
replies, with feeling, ‘No one can
teach you how to see.’ And this
too is true – unless the ‘teaching’
is of another kind from what we
are typically taught to think of as
‘teaching’. The kind that can come
from immersion – immersion
in another life; or, failing that,
immersion in another world through
the world-making properties of art
(especially, of 3-D film).
Secondly, this is part of the
significance of the remarkable
scene toward the close of the film
in which Neytiri cradles Jake in his
disabled human form, after she has
saved his life, and says ‘I see you’.
She sees him, as human, awakening,
as deeply loveable. The human Jake
will later experience full rebirth – as
one of the Na’vi. He is on the final
stage of his journey to completely
going native. To going from being
merely an American, to being a
Native American. This is the kind
of journey, the film intimates to us,
that we all need to go on, if we are
to save ourselves.
Does Avatar romanticise ‘the
natives’? Well, it accurately reflects
the genuinely ecological sensibility
of some (not, of course, all) native
peoples/native Americans, etc.
3
Take for instance the requirement to
takenodecisionwhichshallharmthe
interests of the seventh generation,
laid down by the Iroquois, and
still inspiring political thought
today. The Na’vi are not depicted
as saintly, not as homogenous, nor
as entirely peace-loving. Crucially,
their tendency to righteous anger
and their willingness to go to war
are implicitly questioned in the
poignant closing section of the film.
Pandora may be as yet a relatively
unspoilt world, but it is a world
where humans have to face the
consequence of an atmosphere
that spells destruction for them
(and that means: for us)… Does
this remind you of anything? The
hothouse atmosphere of Pandora
has very high levels of CO2.
4
It is
unbreatheable for us. While Earth
in the dystopian future imagined
here has been utterly ravaged by
humans, the utopia of Pandora
carries with it a subtle but grim
reminder of the most pressing
current form of this destruction
– namely, the awful damage that
we are doing to our atmosphere.
Will our atmosphere always be
breathable? Will it support human
life, human civilisation? Will
it, rather, roast us to death? This
awesome question angsts us, at the
back of our minds, constantly, and
rightly so. Avatar doesn’t let us
forget it. If we destroyed the Earth’s
ecosystems, through catastrophic
climate change occurring as a result
of changes we were responsible
for, it would make a kind of grim
sense if we couldn’t even breathe
the atmosphere of the world that we
tried to escape to.
We should note that the Earthlings
in the film don’t literally attempt
to escape to Pandora – they are not
in the customary sense of the word
‘settlers’. Pandora is not really being
settled, and nor is it being treated
as a tourist destination. Why is
this? The impression we have
of the future-Earth in this film is
of a planet where human beings
are systematically alienated from
nature, and where nature has been
despoiled even more systematically
than it has yet been in our time.
In such a world, the predominant
attitude toward nature will be one
of fear and disgust – the attitude
that is impressed upon the new
Marine arrivals on Pandora. The
way in which the humans in this
film are treating Pandora, merely
as a massive new mine for ‘natural
resources’, and not as a possible
new home, expresses profoundly
the alienation from nature that is a
central topic of the film – and from
which the film aims to midwife a
birth.
The ‘prejudiced against the
disabled’ objection
Does Avatar romanticise
embodiment but yet attack/fear the
power our bodies can have over us?
Some have complained that Avatar
is prejudiced against the disabled.
5
Our hero is wheelchair-bound; he
wants to be able to walk, to run,
(to fly!), again. Well, so of course
do most disabled people. But it
is a complete misunderstanding
of the film to find any prejudice
whatsoever here against the
disabled, for three reasons.
First, this disabled Marine is a
feisty fighter, with strong arms,
able to take care of himself to a
remarkable degree, despite the
prejudice he encounters for being
disabled. That prejudice is social,
contingent – the film endorses the
‘social model’ of disability, in that
it makes clear that Jake is deprived
of the operation that could enable
him to walk again simply because
he lacks enough money to pay for
it, and in that it is the prejudice of
his fellow humans and their failure
to make an environment that works
He is on the final stage of his journey to completely going native.
To going from being merely an American, to being a Native American.
This is the kind of journey, the film intimates to us,
that we all need to go on, if we are to save ourselves.
37 Radical Anthropology
for him as a wheelchair-bound
person which restricts him.
Secondly, and more importantly
still: not being able to walk is
trivial, compared with not having
a clue how to survive, and indeed
not being able to breathe. All
human beings – all these ‘babies’,
one might say – are placed in the
subject-position of the disabled,
on Pandora. Thus a disabled
human serves as a prototypical
representative of the entire
human race. Jake’s (contingent,
simultaneously physical-andsocial)
disability stands in for
our (contingent, simultaneously
physical-and-social) disability
in relation the natural world – to
nature that we see as Other, to a
greenhouse atmosphere we can’t
survive in. We see ourselves in
a disabled person because we
are all disabled by Pandora In
other words: we all risk being
disabled by nature until we can
find ourselves at home in it again.
The film radically turns around
our social norm, of thinking of
the disabled as a perhaps-pitiable
lesser version of ourselves, and
forces us to find ourselves in
them. Far from being prejudiced
against the disabled, the film
finds them as icons for humanity,
and requires us all to really
think disability, to think-feel
what it means. To experience
it vicariously, to be able to
empathise with the disabled and
know what life may be like for
them, perhaps for the first time.
The film does the very opposite
of disparaging the disabled.
Thirdly, as mentioned above, the
sceneinwhichNeytirisavesJake,
as he starts to have to breathe the
atmosphere of Pandora due to the
attack by his former commander
on the building in which he is lying
there ‘dreamwalking’, is in any
case a pretty devastating refutation
of the ‘Avatar is prejudiced against
the disabled’ line. It is a deeply
moving scene. She cries out, “Jake!
My Jake!” when she finds his
threatened human body, caught up
in the general human incapacity to
exist in the greenhouse atmosphere
of Pandora. Far from Neytiri being
appalled when she finally sees
Jake’s real body, she is moved, and
loving. If we have been harbouring
discriminatory thoughts toward
Jake as a disabled person, she
shames us, flushing them into
the open. She says, ‘I see you’,
the ultimate epistemological
compliment. She sees that this is
not just a broken body; this is a
person who she loves. This is the
psychical and corporeal home, in a
way obviously the true form, of the
man she loves. She pulls us up short
from any remaining tendencies we
may have had to think that Jake will
be well-shot of his disabled human
form as soon as possible, if possible.
There is nothing special about being
big and blue; there is no prejudice
against the disabled and in favour of
the able-bodied. There is instead a
love and a deeply-nurtured capacity
for understanding and empathy, that
the film facilitates.
It is in fact the soldiers who see Jake
arriving in Pandora and Quarritch
and the other military folk like him
who are prejudiced against Jake on
the grounds of his legs not working.
It is Quarritch who says to him, ‘I’ll
see to it that you’ll get your legs
back. Your real legs.’ – and makes
this ‘gift’ conditional on an act of
treachery and genocide.
Anti-american and leftist
objections
The film draws you into its world,
Pandora, and the native people
there, the Na’vi. It’s Cowboys and
Indians all over again – only this
time, you’re on the Indians’ side.
6
For the invasion of this new frontier
comes – as one watches the film and
learns from the Na’vi and joins Jake
in his progressive transformation
into one of them – increasingly to
seem an appalling thing. Incipient
disaster triumphant. But it is a
total misunderstanding of the
film to dub it, as many right-wing
commentators have done, ‘antiAmerican’.
This is for a number of
reasons, of which I will focus on
two.
This charge is merely the flipside
of a charge that has been made by
left-wing critics of the film, that
it is tacitly racist or imperialist in
putting an American up front as
the central character, and seeing
the whole thing ‘through his eyes’.
That charge is wrong. Jake Sully
goes native. And takes us with him.
The film sets out, makes available
to experience, exactly the kind of
change that needs to occur in our
world if we are to save ourselves.
Indigenous peoples are not in a
position to save our common future
by themselves. We need to learn
from them actively; we need as it
were to convert to them. As Jake
puts it: ‘There’s nothing we have
that they want.’ Avatar is onto
the gross falsification involved
in the very idea of ‘sustainable
development’ – the absurd notion
that we are developed and that they
need to become more like us. This
idea needs to be stood on its head,
and the film helps us to do that.
We need to do what Avatar shows.
All human beings are placed in the subject-position of the
disabled, on Pandora. Thus a disabled human serves as a
prototypical representative of the entire human race
38 Radical Anthropology
But the reason for the ‘left-wing’
charge against Avatar refutes the
accusation of ‘anti-Americanism’;
it is precisely Americans who play
a crucial role in joining with Tsu’tey
and others in literally leading the
charge against the Marine attackers,
especially Jake, and Trudy Charon
the rebel helicopter pilot. The
truth is of course between – or
rather, orthogonal to – the crude
charges of racism on the one hand
or anti-Americanism on the other;
for the film does not generalise
about Americans. It picks out a
few – including crucially an iconic
everyman, our protagonist-narrator,
Jake – as somehow more open to
the transformation that needs to
happen, becoming closer to the
kind of life that the Na’vi enjoy. It’s
not racist to try to save humankind
by targeting your efforts directly on
transformation of the consciousness
and practices of those currently
doing most of the destroying… It’s
common-sense.
7
Also absolutely crucial are the film’s
‘scientists’: who are at heart
anthropologists. Again, Americans,
to a woman and man. …Perhaps it is
all too easy for me to like this latter
aspect of the film: For, admittedly,
there is something unduly attractive
to an academic about a film in which
it is, most unusually, academics
who save the world. Without Grace
and Norm, there would be no
opportunity for Jake to help lead the
armed struggle against the Marines.
Grace in particular plays a critical
role in laying the groundwork
for the psychical transition that
Jake goes through, and that we go
through with him. It needs more
than a soldier, to make the change.
It needs thinking people open to
truly learning from the other, to be
the change.
How does this happen? What
matters is what these academics
are. They are not mineralogists nor
physicists nor even lettrists; they
are biologists and anthropologists.
They are seeking to learn about
‘the natives’. But these are not
classical anthropologists going
to find out all about the strange,
wacky ways of ‘the Other’.
8
Under
the striking leadership of Grace
Augustine (Sigourney Weaver),
they are genuinely seeking to learn
from the other(s).
9
They do not
regard those others’ knowledge as
merely superstition; they regard it
as genuine candidate-knowledge.
These anthropologists have
overcome the central prejudice of
social science, that this is about ‘us’
‘scientifically’understanding ‘them’.
Rather, what true anthropology
ought to be about is about us finding
out about ourselves through finding
out about them; about us finding out
about the world through finding out
about them; and about finding out
about them through genuinely being
with them, seeing them, rather than
objectifying them. As we learn
about the Na’vi’s rituals, their
ecology, their eating-habits, their
connectedness with the creatures
and with their Earth, we come to
understand, appreciate and start to
share in their wisdom. This cannot
be done if one remains aloof, and
‘superior’. One has to learn with and
from them. One has, to some extent,
to become one of them.
10
This might be (and has been) termed
‘reverse anthropology’. As I say,
this is anthropology/ethnography
as it ought to be done, as it would
be done escaping from cultural
imperialism and from misplaced
scientism.
As the Tsahik, Mo’at, says: the
Na’vi will try to teach Jake, to teach
the anthropologists (: to teach us):
‘Then we will see if your insanity
can be cured.’
And as Grace puts it, as she
learns: ‘The wealth of this world
isn’t in the ground, it’s all around
us’. Unobtainium (the name given
by them to what the Earthlings
are mining on Pandora) is a
blind, a macguffin: in this case, to
marvellous Brechtian effect. The
very name makes clear that this film
is to be taken as about our world, as
a symbolical and healing psychical
journey for us (for you), not as an
escapist fantasy. It is quite pathetic
that so few critics of the film have
Na’vi protest against the apartheid wall, Bilin, Palestine
OrenZiv/Activestills.org Indigenous peoples are not in a
position to save our common future
by themselves. We need to learn
from them actively; we need as it
were to convert to them.
As Jake puts it: There’s nothing we
have that they want
39 Radical Anthropology
been able to see this, and have, in
some cases, altogether laughably
taken the name ‘Unobtainium’
to reflect a simple failure of
imagination on the part of the film’s
creators. Why go to the trouble to
create a whole new Na’Vi language,
and fall at the first hurdle of coming
up with a believable name for the
mineral that the Earthlings are
hunting on Pandora? Obviously,
because the name is a clue to the
(deliberately symbolical) nature of
the work, an invitation to reflect
upon that – and, specifically, to
facilitate reflection upon what the
Earthlings miss about Pandora.
Those critics who pan the name
‘unobtainium’ are failing to see
the film in just the way that most
of the Earthlings in the film fail
to see Pandora! The real wealth
of the world is in its networks of
consciousness and communication
and energy.And that is uncapturable
– unobtainable – by even the most
sophisticated mining equipment...
The real wealth of Pandora can only
be ‘obtained’ (the very word seems
wrong) by one willing to get down
and dirty in the world, to become
part of it and of its people. It can’t
really be obtained at all, but only
understood, participated in. By one
willing to participate in and become
part of its wealth.
You have to be ‘like a baby’, ready
to let the Earth, nature, the creatures
around you, and works of art such
as this one reshape and educate
you. As one of Grace’s team puts
it: ‘We’ve got to get in the habit of
documenting everything, you know,
what we see, what we feel, it’s all
part of the science.’ Think about
that statement. This is in fact a
radical reconceptualisation of what
(human) ‘science’ is.
The ‘glorification of violence’
and ‘unrealistic ending’
objections
Avatar issues to us a call. But the
call is not a simple call to arms.
For it is crucial to understand the
poignant lesson that the battle
which ends the main action of the
film teaches. The struggle against
all odds to fight back against the
Marines with military means does
not succeed. Its failure is captured
in the magnificently sad music –
including tremendous solo wails
of pain, expressing our innermost
despair about what is happening to
this good Earth – that accompanies
the military defeat of the attack on
the Marines, echoing the earlier
destruction of Home Tree; and also
in the terrible image of one of the
Pandoran horses ablaze.
Against the crucial charge that
Avatar glamourises violence,
romanticises the anti-colonial
struggle in an apolitical way, and
offers a silly fairytale ending, then,
we can reply in the negative. Yes,
Ai’wa comes to the rescue. But we
know that Gaia won’t. The rebellion
of the Na’vi against the colonising
Marines fails. It is a glorious
example of the heroic virtues, but it
does not succeed. We so desperately
(even to our own surprise) want
the American forces to be killed
by the rebels and the Na’vi; we so
desperately want the Na’vi to win.
But they don’t. Only the deus ex
machina of Ai’wa yields victory.
And this cannot be hoped for. We
have to do it ourselves. We have
to embody this deity; we have to
become and be Ai’wa, collectively.
To the ultimate objection that is
made against Avatar, that its ending
is unbelievable, and is thereby an
unacceptable romanticisation of
hope, we can then accept what
factually motivates the objection,
but refuse the claim that it is an
objection. The unbelievability of
the end of Avatar is in the end a
great strength, not a weakness! This
grand narrative ‘deficiency’ is in
fact the cleverest of twists. For it
is what ought to happen. The very
planetary ecosystem, Gaia, the
creatures of our world ought to
rise up in fury about what is being
done to them. But Gaia will not
strike back. The end of Avatar has
to be unbelievable; so that we can
become clear to ourselves about the
difference between this fairy tale
and our actual historical situation.
Only with such clarity can we go on
to start to do what is necessary to
prevent us from killing our mother
Earth. Jake tells us: ‘See, the world
we come from, there’s no green
there. They killed their mother. And
they’re gonna do the same here.’
The call of Avatar is to become
an eco-warrior who can win. This
will require bold but carefully
judged political strategy, not
outright attack. It will require the
winning of the climate war, but
also a more sustained addressing
of the generalised ecological
crisis of which manmade climate
change is just the most short-term
pressing phenomenon, the canary
in the coalmine that tells us that
our way of living needs to change.
It will require the kind of ecopsychological
transformation that
Avatar aims to present to us and to
midwife in us.
The call is to open your eyes and
act, before it is too late, to save
this beautiful creation. We have to
learn to think for the future, to think
collectively, in fact to think as an
ecosystem.
11
Conclusion
This film has been found by so
many millions to be emotionally
compelling because of the journey
it takes them on, because of the
assumptions it puts into question,
because it speaks to our condition
what true anthropology ought to be about
is about us finding out about ourselves
through finding out about them
40 Radical Anthropology
as alienated from our planetary
home and from each other. This is
why Avatar was in effect banned
in China;
12
why it has inspired
colourful protests against the
apartheid wall in Palestine;
13
why it is inspiring the activist
work of the Radical Anthropology
Group (see http://www.
radicalanthropologygroup.org/new/
Home.html ); why it is inspiring
protests against destructive mining
projects...
14
We should pause to consider in
this connection why the Na’vi
themselves are literally larger
than life. They dwarf us. They are
figured as our new parents. Again,
this is part of what is happening in
the beautiful scene in which Neytiri
cradles Jake’s broken human body,
and responds to him lovingly
without patronising him. This is
part of a journey to maturity that
she is seeing him through. She is
gradually moving from being his
mother to truly being able to love
him as his lover, a point that she
arrived at prematurely earlier in
the film to great cost. She sees the
beauty of his human form, of him.
Figuring the Na’vi as our new
parents is a wonderful bouleverse
of the standard stereotype of
‘primitive’ peoples as like children.
Similarly, there is an obvious
connect here with Jake referring to
human activity on Earth as meaning
that humans have ‘killed their
mother’– and so are badly in need of
new parents. All the same, it might
be claimed that there is something
oddly Oedipal about the scene that
I keep returning to in which Neytiri
cradles Jake – the ‘iconography’
is all mother-and-child. Well, as I
have just pointed out, one simply
has to see the scene in the context
of their developing relationship, a
complicated one, because of who
they are and because of Jake’s
witting and unwitting role in the
betrayal of the Na’vi people, leading
to the destruction of Home Tree. He
isn’t mature enough, it turns out, to
be her lover, her equal, until about
the point where he finally ‘goes
native’, and turns and fights against
Quarritch, the ‘father-figure’ (who
repeatedly addresses him as ‘Son’).
By the end of the film, Jake no
longer needs mothering by his lover,
his equal. He has truly learnt – and
so, perhaps, have we – that Ai’wa
(Gaia) needs to be respected and not
raped, that our mother can be kept
alive; and that future generations
are collectively our children, that it
is they that need virtual ‘parenting’
by all of us, and that we just have
to be mature enough to make that
happen.
The most powerful moment of
hope in the film is perhaps the very
last shot, that mirrors the opening
of the film I discussed earlier: the
flicking open of Jake’s eyes, now
transmigrated fully into his avatar
body. He has become his own
avatar. It is worth dwelling on this
shot. What do we see – what are we
seeing – when Jake’s avatar eyes
flick open for and onto us?
Firstly, it’s a look of love. His eyes
are opening onto the face of Neytiri,
his lover, his love, who we can
safely assume is leaning over him.
Secondly, therefore, it can be
seen as a point of view shot from
her. That is interesting: in the very
final shot of the film, this inspiring
‘take-away’, we see from the point
of view of the central female Na’vi
character. This is subtle, as easy
to miss as the fact that we die as
Quarritch (we experience his death
– the needful death of the Quarritch
in each of us - in a point-of-view
shot), when he is transfixed by her
second arrow. We are witnessing
Jake’s final transformation into
one of ‘them’; but we are doing it
from a subject-position which is
already that of one of ‘them’. This
perhaps implies: We may have
already in some sense made this
transformation for ourselves. Our
avatar may already be ahead of us,
waiting to meet us.
Thirdly, it is perhaps a look of
enlightenment. He has left his
human form behind; he finally
knows what it is like to live as
a Na’vi, fully a Na’vi body-self,
rather than just an avatar.
Fourthly, and most important of
all, he is looking directly at you.
You, the viewer, receive this look
directly. He looks you in the eye.
This look completes the call to you.
It asks you: What are you going to
do? It addresses you; it requires
that you now act, that your point of
view becomes activated (activisted).
The film in a certain sense is
not complete until you complete it
– through your own transformation
and your own action. For, if you
don’t act differently, you have not
really been transformed. This look
underlines the call – the call upon
you to complete the film which it
ends.
15
Thanks to Survival International for
permission to use their photograph,
http://www.survivalinternational.org/
RupertReadisReaderinPhilosophyattheUniversityof EastAnglia,specialisinginenvironmental
and political philosophy. He is a Green Party Councillor in Norwich. His most recent books are
Philosophy for Life and There is No Such Thing as a Social Science. R.Read@uea.ac.uk
41 Radical Anthropology
4. See e.g. http://james-camerons-
avatar.wikia.com/wiki/Pandora
5. For example, http://flowtvorg/2010/02/i-
see-you-gender-and-disability-
in-avatarmichael-peterson-laurie-
beth-clark-and-lisa-nakamura/
6. Of course, this point in itself isn’t new.
See A Man Called Horse, Dances with
Wolves, The Last of the Mohicans.
7. Thus http://io9.com/5422666/when-
will-white-people-stop-making-movieslike-avatar
completely misses the point.
8. Thinking here for example of James
Frazer, as critiqued by Wittgenstein in his
“Remarks on Frazer’s Golden Bough”.
See also my There is no such thing as a
social science (Ashgate, 2008), co-authored
with Wes Sharrock and Phil Hutchinson.
9. Though we should note that,
prior to the action of the film, Grace
herself apparently had to go through a
transformative journey of her own – the
early attitude of the anthropologists
towards the Na’vi was it seems one of
trying to get them to wear Western clothes
etc. The anthropologists have already
gone through a process of reversing
their assumptions qua anthropologists
10. My There is no such thing as a
social science explores how such true
anthropology prescinds altogether from the
category of science, and how ‘social science’
is a recipe for endless failure to understand
the other (and to change oneself).
11. Deep ecological thinkers such as Aldo
Leopold, Susan Flader, John Seed, Joanna
Macy, Pat Fleming, and Arne Naess have
taught us to ‘think like a mountain’. We
need to redesign human societies so that
they work as ecosystems do, without
having any waste; this is the central
principle of permaculture. And we need
to learn to ensure that we are not living
in a way incompatible with ecosystemic
resilience among those ecosystems that
are primarily or almost entirely outside of
human life. The Na’vi – and real indigenous
peoples – can help with both tasks.
12. The Chinese authorities in a certain
sense interpreted the film more or less
correctly; like the right-wing critics of
the film, they perceived its genuinely
radical potential — and were scared.
13. See e.g. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/
news/picturegalleries/worldnews/7222508/
Palestinians-dressed-as-the-Navi-from-
the-film-Avatar-stage-a-protest-against-
Israels-separation-barrier.html
14. New protests keep appearing which
take inspiration from Avatar: the latest
that I have encountered, just as this
article goes off to press, is http://www.
survivalinternational.org/news/6273
15. Thanks to my avatarian coconspirators
Vincent Gaine and Peter
Kramer for very helpful comments on
an earlier draft. Thanks also to Chris
Knight (especially), and to an audience
at the University of East Anglia.
Notes
1. In this regard, Avatar follows a venerable
‘philosophical’ tradition of ‘enlightenment’
films. Consider Fight Club’s climactic
line, just prior to Jack’s overcoming of his
parasitic Tyler Durden self, ‘My eyes are
open’. Compare also the meaning in context
of Leon’s call to Deckard in Blade Runner:
‘Wake up! Time to die...’. Avatar pulses
through a long sequence of fallings-asleep
and wakings-up. That’s how the humans
switch in and out of their avatar personas.
And take for instance Grace’s important
remark: ‘You need to wake up, Parker…
The wealth of this world isn’t in the ground,
it’s all around us. The Na’vi know that, and
they’re fighting to defend it.’ This is what
the film is trying to teach us, about our own
world. Can it wake us up enough, to hear it?
2. A charge issued by some critics and
Leftists, but made most famously by
no less than the Pope: http://www.
moviefone.co.uk/2010/01/11/vatican-
calls-avatar-sentimental-hokum
3. The ‘etc.’ here is important. As Joshua
Clover puts it, on p.6 of “The struggle for
space” (Film Quarterly 63:3, pp.6-7): ‘The
blue anthro-feline Na’vi, three meters tall,
are not so much any indigenous people,
but rather any number thereof: Native
Americans in their natural harmony, or the
Urarina of the Amazon rainforest – but no
more these than, say, Iraqi natives (cued
bluntly by the phrase “shock and awe”).’
PremenstrualstressandtheHumanRevolution
Viky Sousa-Mayer introduces a project on PMS
I
have just returned from a
conversation with a neighbour.
In her late fifties, she’s had
depression from age 28 that
was never addressed. Recently
her state deteriorated: she was
hearing sounds inside her head
and couldn’t walk. When she told
me about another neighbour who
committed suicide at the local
cliffs, I recalled a high-school
colleague who did the same when
depression became unbearable.
By 2020, depression could be
the second most common killer
disease in the world. The need to
understand it is now an emergency.
Unfortunately, depression is often
viewed with a mixture of attitudes,
meeting disbelief and stigma. So
if you are depressed and you tell
people,theythinkyoumightbelying
and lazy, or mad and dangerous.
There are many ways in which the
disease manifests itself. Men as
well as women have depression,
but in this study I started with
premenstrual stress (PMS). Women
are more prone to depression during
the main reproductive phases of
their life. Hormonal fluctuations
are often invoked as a cause.
It is a step further from dismissal
and disbelief, but it’s not the whole
story. Mainstream attitudes and
frameworks towards depression(s)
need to be turned on their head.
PMS needs to be approached not as a
symptom of a dysfunctional woman
but as a symptom of dysfunctional
life circumstances. As a selfregulatory
mechanism, PMS serves
a function. This could have mattered
to our ancestral foremothers in
becoming human, providing the
mental and emotional impetus in a
new sex-strike strategy, intended to
encourage male investment. In my
researches, several accounts of PMS
experiences show common features:
primarily unhappiness with life but
also, determination, aggression and
creativity. These could have been
essentialduringthesex-strikerituals
that, according to Chris Knight,
created human symbolic culture.
The sex-strike model suggests
ways of understanding PMS as a
functional and natural response.
I explore this possibility
further in my blog on http://
divagosantropologicos.blogspot.
com/2010/06/pms-and-human-
revolution-viky-mayer.html
1. Emily Martin, 1988. Premenstrual
Syndrome: Discipline, Work, and Anger
in Late Industrial Societies. In Thomas
Buckley and Alma Gottlieb (eds), Blood
Magic: The Anthropology of Menstruation.
Berkeley, Los Angeles & London: University
of California Press, pp. 161-181.
‘In order to see anger as a blessing instead of a curse, it may be necessary for women to feel their rage is legitimate.’
Emily Martin (1988: 178)
1
42 Radical Anthropology
Raga Woods
An open confession
from a member of Democracy Village
Democracy Village pitched up on Parliament Square on Mayday
2010 after a Carnival against the sham general election.
Raga Woods, a founder villager, reflects on her experiences in
this ‘world turned upside down’.
T
his is an attempt to describe
the development of an
experiment in participative
democracy – a gathering of people
living on Parliament Square. We
have called this Democracy Village.
Like the Diggers we are indeed a
ragged band at the village. Right
now as we wait for judgement to
be handed down on June 29 many
members of the general peace/green
movement will be busy dismissing
us as chancers, nutters and even
wandering drunks. True, along
with the committed participants
who gather at our meetings, there
are people who have just stumbled
across us. But we have come to see
that this is bound to be the nature
of an inclusive-style democracy,
and, yes, it is tough. The truth is
that many of us British citizens are
indeed struggling to hold ourselves
together and London is where the
mirror we hold up to society reflects
that truth most poignantly.
On Parliament Square we regularly
hold meetings in the round where
we discuss everything from
sanitation on the square to the
ongoing struggles in Afghanistan.
A lot of political passion and a lot of
personal pain emerges.
However, we consistently find
ourselves to be impressively strong
and capable. We find we are a rich mix
of resilience and daring, with huge
dollops of Pythonesque self -sendup
added as a leavening agent. Also,
some of us are very skilled at warmly
supporting other people’s needs with
compassion and genuine empathy.
We often feel irritated that
the popular media seems duty
bound to represent us as a nest of
lawbreakers and worse. We regret
this kind of lazy, clumsy reporting
which seems to be just churned out
without much regard for the rather
more interesting phenomenon of
a cross-cultural community who
have been surviving on a traffic
island for a couple of months. We
are really quite an exotic bunch, as
you would expect in London, with
many messages to give and display
about bringing fairness and peace
to the world, though we accept we
sometimes fall short of being able
to transmit our statements to full
effect. But we keep trying!
Wewhodoactuallystayinthevillage
have come to appreciate the grand
English tradition of pantomime
being adapted to complement the
ongoing production across the road.
We have a mad King and a fantasy
Queen all of our own. Her Maj is
particularly fond of having people
executed so she carries a large
Wonderland axe around with her
and sometimes wears an impressive
cloak and crown. She was hilarious
on the day of the State Opening of
Parliament and helped us keep it all
in perspective in the village. The
assembled populace did their great
ranting and jeering as the golden
coach rolled by.
Our wit has been noted within both
Houses of Government, though
not many Members have dared to
negotiate the siren-ridden traffic
that surrounds us like a monster
racetrack. Meanwhile, back at the
High Court, deliberations continue.
We villagers have all dared to show
our heads above the parapet and
defied the bye-laws of the city of
Westminster. Yes, Brian was here
before us by almost nine years and
frequently makes it clear we are not
welcome to share his patch. This is
yet another rather darker aspect of
our mad Pantomime. Brian Haw
frequently swears Democracy
Village is run by MI5 and that we
are mostly agents of the state come
to do our dirty work and rid the
square of him forever. Meanwhile
strange spooky men with cameras,
possibly posing as tourists, actually
do creep around the edges of
the gardens where we frequently
glimpse them hiding behind the
lavender beds.
One day a young woman was
dancing a shamanic spell aimed
at the evil CCTV camera on the
Treasury Building opposite, it
graciously waved back but sadly we
don’t think the spell has been quite
strong enough…yet! We guess that
there are indeed plenty of dedicated
agents of the state who are glad to
watch over us. We speculate we
inadvertently employ a good chunk
of well-paid followers in our wake
who enjoy the rewards of getting to
know us.
Actually we suspect we are sinking
ever deeper within the vulnerable
underside of the establishment. Our
banners silently declare that peace
cannotbeachievedbywar,thewords
43 Radical Anthropology
penetrate and attune to the thoughts
of passing motorists. Parliament
Square has become more electric
than Piccadilly. Daily the media
give away their news sheets and
with terrible regularity announce
yet another bloodletting, and so
our messages and banners flood the
consciousness of Westminster. Our
work is to question the necessity of
sacrificing young people in a socalled
war that is possibly all about
the need to control the power of
oil in the Middle East. Is it about
Opium? or the aftermath of Natospawned
terrorism? It appears UK
soldiers are preparing the way of an
oil pipeline under a
cover story about the
education of women
in Afghanistan.
We do get sad and
our hearts seem to
resonate with our
doleful mechanical
brother, Big Ben.
We feel a hollow
booming sound
inside our souls
but our banners
and rainbow flags
demand we carry
on for as long as
we possibly can.
Yes, we delight in
knowing that we are
an antidote to pomposity and we
celebrate knowing we absolutely
are not what any nervous new
government wants to have on
display in the front garden of the
House. This is a creative expression
of democratic people-power. This
hands-on experience leaves us
feeling alive and kicking. We are
bearing witness. This war is not in
our name!
And a little about myself, excuse me
for this digression but everything
begins with the personal. I am a
grandmother. I have, over the years
been actively involved in various
campaigns including Twyford
Down and the Ogoni campaign
to Save Ken Saro Wiwa before he
was murdered in Nigeria. Earlier,
when known as Tessa Fothergill,
I realized I needed to find other
one-parent families to share my
experiences of loneliness with.
This led me to founding a self-help
network I called Gingerbread in
Christmas 1969 which has since
developed into a fairly significant
organisation based in North London
with groups all over the country.
As we move towards the conclusion
of the court proceedings I imagine
the Judge in the High Court
understood what I meant when I
recently stated I want to move on
from the Parliament Square traffic
island. The future is rooted in our
past and here and now has a strong
sense of urgency. Like so many of
us, I want to use my allocated time
to some good purpose. I see how
much we care about each other
and I ask the unknown future to
give us guidance and calling at
this time. My dream is to set up a
kind of democratic training where
citizens like myself can learn
how to develop both personal and
collective communication skills
and I particularly see how mature
women can play a significant role
in providing some old-style dragon
power as we go on to try to evolve
new forms of grassroots democracy.
All and everyone is needed of course
and our design for the future must
be inclusive of all. However, older
women are greatly underestimated
as a resource in our society and
I believe our time has come for
making a special contribution.
Clearly many of our families and
young people are expressing a sense
of lostness and resentment in the
face of social neglect and economic
mismanagement. As I ponder on
how to continue the process of
grassroots revitalization, I sense it
is time to investigate the traditions
of tribal elders, held in high esteem
in traditional societies. Today wise
women could use their experience
to facilitate the development of
young people who are negotiating
changing social boundaries. Just
to say for now that
my experience at
Democracy Village
hasgreatlyopenedmy
mind and increased
my confidence in the
future.
We will also always
assert that we
provided the best
possible offering to
those who administer
our democracy
and who sometimes
seem defensive or
disconnected at the
roots. We came, we
stayed, we raised
our banners and we called out
to the citizens of this city that we
are all needed to keep alive at the
grassroots or die of apathy and
ignorance.
We are now awaiting judgement,
but as they say, we do not hold our
breath!
I want to end with an
acknowledgement of full respect
to Brian Haw for the powerful
stance he has taken on Parliament
Square; he has been an inspiration
to thousands. And to Maria, the true
enabler of all that’s taken place on
Parliament Square in the name of
the peace movement.
ragawoo@gmail.com
http://democracyvillage.org/	
People’s Assembly on Democracy Village, Parliament Square
ChrisKnight
44 Radical Anthropology
Ifi Amadiume
Re-placing Gender and the Goddess:
Layers of Ethnographic Disruptions and Discourse
In dialogue with Igbo elders, Ifi Amadiume explores the
consequences of a history of ‘faith interruptus’ as missionaries
and developers impose their vision of modernity.
C
olonialist violence was not
only in an interruption
of faith in existing
indigenous religions,
but in the psychological violence
of the imposing of new religions.
Natives were also forced to witness
their cultures being condemned
and rejected, thus creating
disconnections and empty spaces,
and in some cases, an imposed
inferiority complex, as opposed
to precolonial native pride of
identity. The consequences of these
experiences remain a destabilising
factor in African societies, village
life and politics, and present
the challenges of empty spaces
for radical anthropology and its
relationship to its ethnographic base.
I use the term ‘faith interruptus’
to address the cultural, social and
philosophical ramifications of the
disconnections and empty spaces
created due to colonialist intrusions
and interruptions in African
experiences.
1
For indigenous religious leaders –
prophets, mediums and priests
– as visionaries, faith interruptus
would result in empty spaces in
their invisible world if not filled
by their ancestors, spirits and
their own deities and supernatural
forces. One can then imagine the
bifurcation in the minds of the
ordinary people being subjugated
by an alien and contradictory
ontological sacred. In resistance,
new African religious movements,
such as prophetic movements
and African Independent
Christian churches, have
incorporated elements of
traditional symbols and
beliefs to create a more familiar
Christianity, but still grounded in
Biblical faith. The fact remains
that Christianity has a hierarchical
officialdom and approved doctrines
that reject the African creative
efforts at indigenisation that are
not in accordance with its accepted
orthodoxy; therefore, the ranking of
superiority and inferiority of faith
still holds.
I use conversations with my father
Chief Solomon Amadiume (1918 –
2004), whose chieftaincy title was
Eze Ideyi,
2
to visit the question
of empty spaces in the context of
local discourse of oppression and
resistance. I draw on my father’s
direct statements to back my case
for the continuing relevance of
indigenous knowledge and local
voices as an important social text
in conversation with the scholarly
text in postcolonial discourse. I
challenge, post-modernist denial of
the continuing relevance of African
traditions.
Gender Contest
My work on the anthropology of
gender, based on the ethnography of
a Nigerian Igbo village, Nnobi (over
60,000 in population), developed
into an interest in the complexity
of socio-cultural systems, including
the intersections of religion, culture
and politics
3
. My study of religion
in indigenous Nnobi society
identifies and brings into focus
women’s social agency and their
models countering a patriarchal
representation of religion.
Traditional African societies present
several myths and do not impose
a single sacred narrative on
their communities. I have used
an interdisciplinary perspective
informed by gender analysis to
probe some empty spaces in Igbo
religions in general and Nnobi
For indigenous religious leaders,
faith interruptus would result in
empty spaces in their invisible
world if not filled by their
ancestors, spirits and their own
deities and supernatural forcesAfor market spills into the streets.
IfiAmadiume
45 Radical Anthropology
religion in particular. How can I
hear women’s voices of resistance in
myth narratives and philosophical
propositions in traditional Nnobi
thought? West African primordial
myths about Earth and Sky reveal
gendered principles of contestation
speaking to real histories and
milestones in shifting systems of
matriarchy and patriarchy.
The argument or quarrel between
Earth and Sky about who is senior
parallelsthehistoryofmigrationand
of immigrant clans or communities
imposing patriarchal rule over
indigenous Earth religions and
matriarchal ideologies and cultures.
One sees this myth as a diachronic
history of change in religious
practices, with gender implications.
One also sees synchronic patterns:
structural contestation of gender
between constituting institutions,
and between male and female
leadership over primordial firstrights
in a system that recognizes
the seniority of elders; and in other
forms of hierarchical systems of
titled Chiefs, Queens and Kings.
However, social or structural
contestation does not mean that
there isn’t also an ideal of gender
complementarity in practice.
Cooperation and balance are
encouraged by propositional Igbo
statements of no absolutes (Ife
kwulu, ife akwudobe ya, there
is another side to a coin); and
similar propositional statements
about the twinness of things; that
things exist in pairs (Ihe di abuo
abuo); this suggests an ideal of
equality. In Nnobi society, ideals
are discursive, and such discussion
of claims and counter-claims
characterize social processes. This
plurality of paradigms makes for
social dynamism, and therefore
indigenous models of opposition.
4
The Goddess and ‘development’
A conversation with Ideyi in Enugu
on August 19, 1994 illustrates
the indigenous nature of dispute,
discourse, opposition and conflict
resolution. It also shows native
elders using traditional culturally
shared knowledge and strategy to
challenge a modern lawyer over
a land dispute with implications
for gender and change in Nnobi
traditional goddess religion. The
breakdown of communication has
serious ramifications for interlineage
and inter-village relations in
post-colonial Nnobi society.
Ideyi was responding to the
criticism of the ignorance of elders
and tradition by Anthony Appiah
5
,
by saying that there
are different types of
elders, knowledgeable
ones who seek wisdom
and – as in any other
society – there are also
the palm-wine drinking
elders, not interested in
acquiring knowledge.
Ifi: I was reading a
book called In My Father’s
House, by Anthony Appiah. He
is saying that what is holding
Africans back is because they
do not have a written tradition,
only an oral tradition. You
are saying that if we go to
the elders with their wisdom
they can explain matters of
tradition. Appiah is saying that
this is not correct, that when
you go and ask them, they are
not able to explain anything.
He says the only thing you
hear them say is what their
forefathers said, and that to
say what your fathers said is
not knowledge because that
knowledge does not leave room
for discussion, that is, for one to
challenge what was said by their
fathers for progress. This is because
knowledge is a history of a series of
discussions. On this basis, African
traditional religion or African
traditional systems of knowledge
is working on something static. It
is always what their fathers said,
and proverbs are the same, they
are fixed. Therefore it does not
leave room to improve on things.
The culture does not leave room
for opposition, for conversation,
for disputation. Whereas European
scientific culture is rich because of
different views. This is what Appiah
is saying.
Ideyi: Who knows the kind of elders
that this author interviewed, and
they are in the majority. What our
people call such elders is palmwine-smashing-elders
(okenye
otikponkwu), if you do not pour
them more than two cups of palmwine,
they’ll fight you. Is it this
sort of elder that you’ll go and
interview? If you get the right elder,
you can interview him intelligently,
if you bring argument, he’ll equally
respond. If you were to meet those
like Ezeaku or Ejeaku of Nnobi,
or my Nnaochie Ezenyikatu who
knocked down a lawyer.
Ifi: Did what?
Ideyi: He asked a lawyer a question
and the lawyer could not give an
answer.
Ifi: In court?
Traditional African societies
present several myths and do
not impose a single sacred
narrative on their communities
Ideyi is looking into the entrance to the Igwe’s
palace, with the market and market women selling
right outside and into the entrance.
IfiAmadiume
46 Radical Anthropology
Ideyi: In court. The lawyer of
Ebenesi asked the spokesman of
Awuda: ‘Isn’t it a fact that Nnobi
consists of three quarters and
Ebenesi is the senior?’My Nnaochie
Ezenyikatu raised his hand and
said that the Chief Judge should be
informed that he wants to respond
to this question because it is their
responsibility to do so as elders.
The Judge said, ‘why is this person
causing trouble and who is he?’.
He was informed that he was one
of the leaders and wants permission
to respond to this question himself.
The Judge said, ok, he should
answer, so my Nnaochie got up and
said to the lawyer of Awuda to say
to the chief Judge that he would
like to respond with a question.
Is he permitted to use a question
instead? The Chief Judge sitting
on the judgment seat said, ‘ok,
with all pleasure’. Everybody was
wondering what he wanted to ask.
Do you know that it was to a lawyer
that he wanted to pose a question!
So they said to him ask, and he said
that he is addressing himself to the
lawyer. That they have explained to
him that Nnobi is in three quarters.
What he wants to ask the lawyer is
that three pieces of mud mounds are
used to carry a load (akwukwa nato
na ebu otu ibu). Does he agree that
that is so? In that case of the three
mud mounds which is carrying the
load the most? The place burst into
a roar of laughter! (Oda zooo!) The
elders at the back row roared with
laughter because they understood
his question. Lawyer didn’t know
what it meant and said they should
explain to him the question that this
man asked. And they told him that in
a tripod, which is carrying the pot
more than the other? The lawyer
could not answer and for five
minutes the Chief Judge was saying
yes? yes? to him!! You see why I
am telling this story is to show that
some elders have more knowledge
than others.
Ifi: In what year did this happen?
Ideyi: This would be in the early
1930s because I was grown by then.
That was how Awuda won that case.
The land that they were disputing
is in the border with Ebenesi. It
is very clear that it belongs to
Ebenesi. But when they got to court
Awuda was more clever. It was my
Nnaochie who did the trick. He died
prematurely and there is suspicion
that this might be the cause of his
death because those involved are
Ifite people, ndi isi Idemili, who
have the priesthood of the Goddess
Idemili.
Ifi: The custodians of the Goddess
Idemili.
Ideyi: Yes, Ifite and they don’t
forgive anybody.
Ifi: Right, because how is it that
Idemili forest is in Awuda? It doesn’t
make sense.
Ideyi: Emeh is now explaining that
Idemili is in Awuda. The whole of
Agbor Idemili (Idemili forest) was
involved in this particular case.
They made rubbish of our lawyer.
Why I am recounting this story is
to show that the person who helped
win this case was an ordinary elder
who was knowledgeable. Had
such an elder been interviewed by
the author of that book that you
mentioned he would make him to
change his mind.
Ifi: Yes, because things changed.
History was made there. That is
true.
Ideyi: History was made there.
Ifi: There was immediate change.
What was the Igbo word that he
used for tripod?
Ideyi: Akwukwa nato. There is a
proverb that says ‘no n’akwukwa
nato ite sili’. The meaning of the
proverb is if you are finding three
people at fault, for that matter to go
forward, there must be a consensus.
So if that is agreed as we disperse,
I’ll say that proverb to you.
Ifi: In English, it is called a court
in a triangle, because triangles all
have equal sides.
Ideyi: After discussion as we are
leaving I remind you by saying
that proverb. That if the three mud
mounds do not have consensus
any pot put on top will fall. In the
land case where they were saying
that Ebenesi had first share, my
Nnaochie tried to disprove it by
saying not in this case.
Ifi: Had they another clever elder
from Ebenesi, it actually leaves
room for a debate.
Ideyi: He’ll fire back.
Ifi: This case challenges what the
professor is saying.
Ideyi: One would fire back.
Ifi: He’ll fire back with the rights of
di-okpala, first son.
Ideyi: Yes, one would fire back. If
it had been with Amadunu, where
we had Ikesebe, or Ibanwalie, or in
our Umunshim with people who can
talk.
Ifi: Speakers, Orators!
Ideyi: When things get tough in
Amadunu we go and call Ezegbue
in the obi of Uzuako or Anoliefo.
Ifite are more action people. Their
things are done more in secret.
They believe very much on means
(imensi?), because really after that
case, many heads rolled in Awuda,
including that of my Nnaochie. This
man that I am telling you about
called Ezeenyikatu; do you see how
that name sounds, when he speaks,
it sounds like thunder descending
from the sky.
This conversation with my father
tells us about the expected role
of elders, indigenous cultural
resources for resistance and
oratory. It shows there is room for
innovation and cleverness, even
in the intimidating presence of
colonial might and modernity as
47 Radical Anthropology
represented by hitherto unknown
and, in the eyes of the colonized,
punitive institutions – the law court,
lawyers and prisons. Elders can use
oratory and creativity to dispute
and overturn the customary law of
primogeniture, for example. But,
injured parties do not leave it at that,
they resort to indigenous subversive
means known and feared by all, like
power-medicine, magic and sorcery
mentioned by Ideyi, both part of the
indigenous culture that everyone
knew. This incident took place
during the early days of colonialism
and the account of the dispute over
Agbor Idemili, Idemili’s forest,
shows the power of indigenous
religion and the Goddess Idemili in
Nnobi. Most of Nnobi during that
period still practiced the indigenous
religion.
Today, many do not know this
important history that explains why
Idemili’s forest that ought to belong
to Ifite, her priestly lineage, remains
in the hands of Awuda. I was not
given this account during fieldwork
in the 1980s, therefore it is not in
my ethnography of Nnobi.
6
Local
people in a position to know seemed
to have avoided talking about this
majorhistoricincident.However,the
situation was different in the early
1990s when Nnobi was undergoing
major development constructions to
expand and modernize Afor market,
the central market place. Nnobi was
in turmoil over what were seen as the
excesses of ‘developers’ who were
encroaching on and grabbing land,
including the Goddess Idemili’s
forest, and the sacred groves of
other revered spirits and powermedicines.
While in the 1930s’
dispute over the Goddess Idemili’s
forest, practically all of Nnobi were
with the traditional religion, in the
early 1990s’ conflicts, Odinani
people (indigenous to the land, i.e.
followers of the traditional religion),
were in the minority. But, the
Goddess Idemili still commanded
the respect of all, including the
Christians who were against the
indigenous religion. The opposition
to the ‘developers’ was complex
with counter arguments from many
perspectives, including a class
perspective on the developers, a
conservation and environmental
perspective, a gender perspective
on their patriarchal greed.
Most important was a religious
perspective on the sacrilege being
committed by the developers who
dared to clear and build on sacred
lands, especially Idemili’s sacred
forest. This is due to its implications
for Nnobi matriarchy.
In my study of ritual and gender, I
link a matriarchal ideology to the
worship of the Goddess Idemili,
and a patriarchal ideology to the
ancestor religion, having examined
thebeliefsandpracticessurrounding
these spirit entities. The presence of
a matriarchal ideology ‘generated
and supported favourable female
ideas and strong matrifocality in
Nnobi culture’.
7
Although believed
to be supernatural and spiritual,
all these spirit entities are very
much part of social discourse. They
are present in all sorts of cultural
narratives, involving, for example,
questions of seniority, family and
marriage relationships, rights of
succession and inheritance, names
of markets, a calendar to determine
market days, village ceremonies
and festivals of thanksgiving to
the Goddess Idemili.
8
Most of the
extra-descent social and religious
activities are held in the name of the
Goddess Idemili, so that she is allembracing
and worshipped by all
of Nnobi, while other spirit entities
are sectional. In a socio-cultural
sense, all of Nnobi is still influenced
by the Goddess Idemili in spite of
a majority Christian population;
traditional cultural practices are
woven into the very fabric of social
life.
However, in addition to the grand
narrative of gender that portrays
the Goddess Idemili as central
to the overall administration of
Nnobi economy, social and political
issues, this all-powerful Goddess
is also subjected to some of the
contradictions present in narratives
of everyday gender realities in
social relations between men and
women concerning marriage, sex
and romance. Idemili is paired with
a lesser deity, Aho. In the politics
of gender, just like contemporary
people, traditional people invent
stories around their religious super
s/heroes.
I recorded two versions of the Nnobi
myth of origin, one following a
pattern of Igbo matriarchal naming
of villages after the mother, so that
Nnobi becomes Nne-Obi, mother
Nnobi was in turmoil over what was seen
as the excesses of ‘developers’ who
were encroaching on and grabbing land,
including the Goddess Idemili’s forest
Uncut tree in Nnobi forest.
IfiAmadiume
48 Radical Anthropology
of Obi. In the second version
recounted to me by the then priest
of Idemili, the Goddess Idemili
originates from the Idemili River
as a woman to bring prosperity or
benefit, ulu to Nnobi people. Since
the senior wife said that she did
not have the means, it was a junior
wife in Ifite (a minor lineage in
Ebenesi, the first major patrilineage
in Nnobi), who provided all that
Idemili demanded in order to come
out of the water on condition that
Idemili would be in her possession.
A house temple, (Okwu Idemili
Nke Uno), was therefore built for
Idemili in the compound of the
junior wife, and this explains why
the main temple of the Goddess
Idemili is in Ifite.
9
Idemili grows
in popularity and establishes her
temples and influence in the major
village quarters of Nnobi (in the
order of seniority they are Ebenesi,
Ngo and Awuda) and throughout
all the lands of Idemili – meaning
all the villages along this river.
Her daughter, the Goddess Edo,
with the gifts given to her by her
mother, repeats her mother’s fame
by establishing her own influence
throughout the lands of Edo, a
neighboring town, Nnewi.10
In the grand narrative the Goddess
Idemili is everywhere, so also is her
power. Not so Aho, her supposed
husband. Nnobi indigenous
matriarchal culture does not
seem to have any problems with a
founding mother looming so large.
The interruptions by colonialism
and Christianity imposed a
marginalisation of women, the
very subject of feminist and radical
anthropology. What once seemed a
straightforward narrative of gender
politics between Aho and Idemili,
and how Idemili market came to be
in Afor, takes on a different meaning
in the context of the conflict between
Awuda and Ifite of Ebenesi over the
Goddess Idemili’s forest and village
capitalist development. Added to
that is the problem of Christian
patriarchy dictating development in
a historically matriarchal African
village.
The marketplace was and still is a
traditional Igbo woman’s second
home. With ‘modernity’ and
development, men increasingly
encroach on this women’s space,
and this has been the case in Nnobi
where market women have faced
and resisted the intrusion of socalled
market masters and other
male government officials who
are constantly collecting tolls and
levies. When local governments
or local developers are involved,
the threats to women’s control
of their markets grow with total
reorganisation, displacement of
women by men and loss of market
sheds whether by design or because
they are too expensive to afford.
For women in Nnobi, religion,
culture, the market place and the
economy are interrelated in the
matriarchal tradition. In addition
to the house temple of the Goddess
Idemili in Ifite, as a water spirit,
she also has another temple by the
stream, a sacred place that only her
priest and the most senior of titled
Ekwe women called Agba Ekwe
could enter to consult her. However
specific people were able to take
refuge in her house as it was a
sanctuary for some social offenders.
The sacredness of the stream was
also extended to all creatures in
it. This includes the python that
is ‘personally associated with the
goddess and was taboo among the
communities settled along the holy
stream. It was a totemic symbol and
was referred to as mother just as the
maternal role of the goddess was
stressed. . . As well as the maternal
role of the goddess being stressed,
peaceful qualities were also
attributed to her’.
11
The grand indigenous matriarchal
narrative couldn’t be clearer about
the power of the Goddess Idemili,
and the interconnections between
economic success and women’s
power. In this context, historical
developments have also given new
significance to the narrative of a
quarrel between Aho and Idemili
that I had previously recorded.
Although seen as gods and
goddesses, myth also represents
Aho and Idemili as husband
and wife in a family. Idemili’s
industriousness brings her great
wealth, she ‘became a great woman;
rich, powerful and much more
popular than her husband, Aho’
12
.
Aho sees Idemili as arrogant and
decides to humble Idemili by
marrying a second wife, Afor.
Idemili gets angry and counters
by closing all the rivers of these
other deities, Aho and Afor, and
declares that only her own river will
continue to flow. That is when Aho
declares that all important activities
in Nnobi should be done in Afor’s
place. So Afor became the central
marketplace, where most activities
take place. Afor is also the name
of one of the four days in the week
in Igbo calendar. It is indeed Nnobi
main market day in the traditional
rotation or cyclical market system
that still governs Igbo marketplace
patterns.
Given present developments, Ifite
remembers that what is today
Afor marketplace was previously
Idemili market in Ifite. The secular
explanation is that it was moved
to the present location to be more
centrally accessible to everyone.
But the temple to Chi Idemili (Chi
The grand indigenous matriarchal narrative
couldn’t be clearer about the power of the Goddess Idemili,
and the interconnections between economic success and women’s power
49 Radical Anthropology
being the divinity, essence, power in
everyone and everything) is in Afor
market place, and all festivals and
ceremonies that take place at Afor
are in the name of the Goddess
Idemili. The public group worship
of Idemili, Ilo Chi Idemili, (led by
and dominated by women) takes
place in Afor where Chi Idemili
is located.
13
For the opening of
the Odinke (the displaying of
cows and taking of the prestigious
Ogbuefi title by both men and
women) festival, the priest of the
main Idemili temple goes to Afor
to perform Oke Opi dance.
14
The
same priest also gives the signal for
the New Yam Festival through the
display of new yam in Afor market
place.
15
During the festival of the
outing or exhibition of the religious
spirits, all the religious icons and
objects were also displayed in Afor
marketplace. This was led and
organised by Inyom Nnobi, Nnobi
Women’s Council, consisting of all
the women of Nnobi, which sees to
women’s affairs, All these sacred
grounds are tended by women who
sweep the open spaces and keep
them clean.
Here we see the contradictions that
fuel social and religious conflicts.
The contradiction is between Ifite,
the custodians of the main temple of
the Goddess Idemili, who look after
her, love her and are still very proud
of her, continuing her traditions,
and Christian fundamentalists and
zealotswhowouldliketocompletely
destroy the ‘shrine’ of the Goddess
Idemili in Awuda. One can argue
that the traditional Goddess is
conceptually in exile in Awuda.
The questions of faith interruptus
and empty spaces relate to new
religious fundamentalism and the
fanatical attacks on the perceived
paganism of traditional religions.
Many Christians, rejecting Nnobi
traditional religion, see even normal,
but important cultural practices as
pagan. Such people have attacked
indigenous Nnobi religion, cutting
down forests and sacred groves
and destroying spirit temples. An
additional dimension of conflict is
with what Ideyi in disdain liked to
call ‘the new order’ based on new
religious fundamentalism. Ideyi
argued that in many such cases of
conflict, when deeply observed, in
each case tradition triumphs. This
is due to social necessity; to fulfill
practical needs in these multilateral
societies with higher
human interaction and
interdependence.
Even though the
traditional institutional
structures of social
organisation remain
the same, as are
categories and terms
of kinship relations,
Christians object to
some ritual practices
that they consider
pagan. This leads to
constant reforming of
life-cycle ceremonies
and argument over
what is to be allowed,
especially in marriage
ceremonies, funeral and
burial rites. Temples to
the traditional religious
spirits are considered
pagan shrines and
therefore burned down
or cleared; traditional
music and masquerades
are banned. In the
tradition of restoring
voice to text, what
better than to give voice
to the local people and have them
speak for themselves, conveying
local flavour and nuances. I find
that each time I re-read these
direct ethnographic accounts, they
come alive and give power to local
people, and I discover something
new and exciting. The following
conversations with different
factions in Nnobi in 1994 discuss
these Christian attacks.
During the period of these
interviews, ‘Big Men’ in Nnobi and
the leadership of Nnobi Welfare
Organization (NWO) under the
Presidency of Mr. B.B.O. Emeh
were embroiled in personal
rivalries, competition and quarrels
about who did what and who
brought what to Nnobi. Protestant
and Catholic rivalry, and the
privileging of one’s own village
quarter over others lay beneath
these conflicts, especially over the
development and expansion of Afor
and other markets in Nnobi. With
ineffective and underfunded local
The marketplace was and still is
a traditional Igbo woman’s second home.
With ‘modernity’ and development, men
increasingly encroach on this women’s space
IfiAmadiume
Market women in open sheds
Market women now in concrete sheds
IfiAmadiume
50 Radical Anthropology
governments to meet development
needs, villages and villagetowns
depend on fundraising and
powerful personalities, with big
men acting as government. This
leads to a persistent question
of accountability. Unfortunately
these men are also competing for
leadership and the control of NWO,
a nongovernmental town union that
seems to run the affairs of the whole
of Nnobi.
16
Some of their power
conflicts have resulted in court
cases that the general public have
found disturbing in a society that
still thinks in kinship terms, fearing
the power-medicines and spirits.
First, a short excerpt from an
interview with Ideyi, my father
Solomon Amadiume in Enugu on
August 19, 1994. The clearing of
Ichiabia – the power-medicine
spirit in Afor central market place
– came up consistently as a cause of
anger for Nnobi traditionalists, their
supporters and concerned citizens.
It was seen as an attack on Nnobi
traditional religio-cultural heritage
by Christians.
Ifi: You have said many times that
it is a clash between tradition and
religion. It isn’t a clash between
tradition and religion because
you need to qualify that religion;
perhaps a clash between tradition
and new religions, in Christianity,
not Igbo religion.
Ideyi: Yes, new order.
Ifi: Igbo culture and Christianity.
It is very clear, because when
Igbo culture is integrated with
the religion of the same culture, it
doesn’t have this sort of clashing,
and this is really what the Christians
are fearing that they are being
pulled back to ‘paganism’.
Ideyi: The clearing of Ichiabia is
another example . . . Leaving it there
does not mean that we believe in it
or that we are worshipping it. Jesus
Christ said that we should give to
God what belongs to God and to
Caesar what belongs to Caesar.
That is the interpretation, rather
than fighting what one does not
know about. One should face what
they know and do it well. Those who
know the other things know how
to do it, let them do those. Going
to criticize and fight that which
you do not know is a mistake. . .
There is freedom of religion. But it
is tradition that we are discussing,
where everything that one does is
dubbed idol worshipping. That is
wrong.
A short excerpt from an interview
with the traditional chief of Nnobi,
Igwe Eze Okoli on August 6, 1994
in Nnobi, about Idemili and Eke, her
python totem and messenger. Igwe
read the presence of the pythons in
his house as a sign of the Goddess
Idemili’s displeasure with the
interference with sacred groves, the
clearing of forests and the politics
involving market expansion and the
allocation of new sheds.
Igwe Eze Okoli: The traditional
source of Idemili is from Agulu lake.
It continues from sources until it
came from Obosi to Nnobi and was
given another name – Obi Aja. Then
it came to Obosi and it is called
Idemili. You will see python (Eke)
there. The only way to confirm this
is that if the Eke bites someone from
this Agulu lake (Idemili), it will not
hurt. If it bites you after Agulu it is
instant death. Instant death.
Ifi: Really?
Igwe: Absolutely. There is Eke in my
house right now. If I bring out one
here you will all run away. Since
Ichiabia was cleared Eke has taken
abode in my house.
Ifi: It came after Ichiabia was
cleared?
Igwe: It is in here now.
Ifi: It came on its own?
Igwe: Yes, this is the sole thing
Nnobi is suffering – having to clear
Ichiabia without a ceremony.
Interview with Moses Ndukwe an
Ifite elder – formerly a Christian,
now chief priest of Idemili – on
August 6, 1994 in Nnobi, on Afor
Nnobi as the central marketplace.
Ndukwe understood the need for
new markets and market expansion,
but not at the expense of respect
for and right of Nnobi customary
traditions and religion.
Moses: Ebenesi has land at Afor;
Awuda has land at Afor, Ngo’s land
isatAfor.Itisbecauseitisthecentre.
Afor market used to be right here at
this Afor Ifite. It is the original Afor
where Nnobi conducted their buying
and selling. Later it was moved to
that place. When it started having
problems was when all other towns
and counties began to trade there
that Nnobi decided that the centre
is the best thing to do. Furthermore,
they wanted to avoid a fight with
Nnewi. Where it was in Ifite, it
would cause a fight with Nnewi.
You know we always fight with them
during certain seasons. So before
any town will bring a fight now it
will be difficult. That is why they did
all these things, putting powerful
medicine spirits like Odakolo and
Ukpakaike there. When something
is placed, they also add what it
does. A dibia (traditional medicine
priest) placed a medicine pot for
Ichiabia. What has happened now
is that there is problem. Idemili got
annoyed that all the ‘order’ given
have no more standing. Nobody
Many Christians, rejecting Nnobi traditional religion, see even
normal but important cultural practices as pagan
51 Radical Anthropology
regards them. You understand?
Ifi: Yes.
Moses: All the spirits moved
(erupted) because they have no
place to stay. Because if one has
no place to sit (that is home), he
will have no place to sit and break
kolanut or eat. They have no place
to stay, they began to wonder about
and ‘war’ensued.
Ifi: Igwe said that Eke (python) is
camping in his home since Ichiabia
was moved.
Moses: Okay, let them live with him.
Ifi: He says that there are three
pythons. What is going to be done
to right these things so that Nnobi
will be alright.
Moses: You have to start from where
that water got soiled. That Emeh I
called him when all these things
started. . . I told him about four
things — Eke that is being killed and
eaten in Nnobi, ‘Mbubo’ (Monkey)
that was shot. Power-medicine
place that is being cleared... four
things I told him. I wrote it down...
I talked about the spirits that are
being disturbed. All of them. I told
him about all these things. What
they are doing now is pointing
accusing fingers... Okeke. Okafor,
etc. Suddenly one person and the
other start quarrelling. It is nothing
but simple mistake.
A short excerpt from an interview
with an Odinani (one who practices
the traditional religion), Obidike, an
Ebenesi elder, a palm wine tapper
and a dibia, a traditional medicine
priest on August 6, 1994 in Nnobi.
A thorough Odinani elder, Obidike
had a holistic approach and believed
in the power of the spirits to punish
wrongdoing. He also spoke from
the perspective of the poor and
oppressed in criticizing corruption.
Obidike: I am in Odinani. . . We
don’t tell the Christians all the
Odinani things. We tell your father.
the reason we don’t is because after
you tell them, they will take it to
the white man. They ruin things.
The church people went to Idemili’s
temple and burnt it and killed the
monkeys. We are not telling. If
Idemili calls you, you go and make
the sacrifice if you want to. If you
don’t want to, then leave it. You
can’t tell people everything.
Ifi: The church people went and
cleared the Ichiabia grove.
Obidike: Ukpakaike. (Obidike is
referring to the powerful medicine
spirit that inflicts small pox,
“kitikpa”) . . . What I am telling you
is: go down to certain areas and see
what the Ide is doing.
Ifi: That is mud slide and erosion.
Obidike: In the next two years you
will hear that erosion has reached
here. It wants to pull down our hall.
They are coming from different
directions and converging. All the
trees there are falling down. . . We
agreed that we needed a market at
Afor. We have no land and we have
to clear some bush, but we will have
to create a place for the spirits. We
gave them order to clear the market
but no one should touch the shrines.
If we want any land we have to
appeal to the spirits... The trees, are
they inside Ichiabia. It is good. That
is not the problem. It is Ukpakaike.
Ifi: They removed Ukpakaike. It is
not there anymore. The two trees I
saw, what are they? One this way
and the other that way, and you have
a big electric pole in the middle at
Ichiabia.
Obidike: I don’t know. If it is alive
(active), if it is not alive. Who knows
its relationship with the spirits. You
know some of them have something
to do with the powerful medicine.
Ifi: I went to see the Igwe. He said
that the three Eke, pythons, are in
his house and talking to him; that
nobody told him before doing all
these things.
Obidike: The trouble in Nnobi is
causing all this. Odinani is not being
regarded. You know, we started. We
have done Ikwu Ahu. Our people
came out and we did Ahor. . . What
is happening at Nnobi. The plan
was to help poor people and give
them a place, but the whole thing
changed. They could have cleared a
field around there and kept it clean,
but they refused. All this trouble...
IfiAmadiume
Concrete walls around the centre of what was a shrine to Ichiabia.
An electric pole is placed in the middle, and a biblical verse written on a wall.
52 Radical Anthropology
No, we are not in it. They do not
want our input.
Ifi: Even Inyom Nnobi, we hear they
have a new set.
Obidike: Oh yes. They have
disbanded the old group...people
who would say it as they see it.
They brought a new group whom
they say are educated people. The
other group were always there
to advise on certain traditional
things because they were born into
Odinani (traditions of the land). We
are looking at them.
All the spirits of our land they have
cleared; some they burnt and that is
what is causing upheaval in the land
today. We are looking at them. They
did not tell us the truth. Church is
not money. Every time they ask for
money and when you give it a few
people misuse it. Poor people and
widows suffer most.
Short excerpt from an interview
with Ideyi about Inyom Nnobi, the
Women’s Council, an organisation
of all the women in Nnobi that
takes care of women’s affairs, on
July 16, 1994 at Enugu. Under the
traditional system, Inyom Nnobi
was the parallel political women’s
administrative government in a
dual-sex political system that is
ameliorated by a flexibility in
gender classification so that men
and women can share power.
17
With
the patriarchy of colonialism and
Christianity, men and NWO began
to encroach on women’s spaces and
traditional rights and power, as can
be seen in their marginalisation
over market sheds and the strong
response from the women’s leader.
Ifi and Ideyi are talking about Mrs
Chukukwa, leader of Inyom Nnobi.
Ifi: What does she mean that
women were not allocated sheds in
the market? Does this mean after
the rebuilding of the market?
Ideyi: Yes, after the market was
rebuilt, certain compensations were
given. For example shed was given
to Igwe, to Okpala. . .
Ifi: Igwe and Okpala got, but women
didn’t get.
Ideyi: Yes, Igwe and Okpala got
as a matter of respect. So, Inyom
Nnobi said that they too should get.
It will be useful to them, because if
they are given the shed, they can get
rentals from it and use the money
to sponsor their organization. We
do not pay a salary to Okpala; we
do not pay a salary to Igwe. They
get money from putting people in
the sheds that we gave to them.
We promised them sheds, but Mrs
Chukwuka came up with another
program. She said that someone
gets a newborn and names the child
‘ehe obu’!
Ifi: ‘Ehe obu’! meaning ‘whenever’!
Ideyi: Yes, because we told them
that we shall think over it. So Mrs.
Chukwuka refused.
Ifi: She said to make a decision.
Ideyi: Yes.
Ifi: Giving the child the name that
means ‘later’! Mrs. Chukwuka! She
is right because if it were in the olden
days, she and her other leaders
would be Ekwe titled women. (Ekwe
titled women were leaders of Nnobi
Women’s Council.) She would have
had her own palace in the market.
Ideyi: Right. They should have been
given two sheds where they would
install traders and use the income to
run their organization. When next I
go to Nnobi I’ll ask what happened,
especially from her.
Short excerpt from
interview with Anoliefo,
a young lawyer
who was closely and
passionately involved in
the events in Nnobi on
July 31, 1994 at Enugu:
Anoliefo: . . . Ukpakaike has been
allotted and shared out, and market
stalls built on it. Why don’t they
just build something around a spot
and indicate that this is the place of
Ukpakaike and build all the market
space that they want by the side.
But they want all these built, and
posterity will not know these things
again. There is need to preserve
these things. Whether you like it
or not, there were people whose
lives were influenced by these
institutions.
Ifi: It is their history; it is their
culture.
Anoliefo: It is their culture, it is
their way of life. We didn’t just fall
from the sky.
Ifi: You don’t replace it with
something borrowed, your concrete,
your electricity built as your concept
of enlightening.
Conclusion
In a discourse that involves practical
and conceptual questions of gender
and power on placing and replacing
the female principle and the
Goddess, one is constantly engaging
with layers of ethnographic
disruptions and empty spaces. How
can oppressed people risk existing
as a blank slate in a situation of race,
gender, cultural, religious, ethnic,
class and sexual oppression? Hence,
the importance of cultural history
Authenticity also means the opposite of empty spaces;
it means reconnections and an affirmation of a shared
culture or a shared struggle against oppression.
Traditional peoples and their elders are not ignorant
53 Radical Anthropology
to inform the present and the future.
An anti-colonialist perspective,
like an anti-imperialist stance,
emphasises African authenticity
and dignity against the backdrop
of European destruction of and
misrepresentation of native societies
and traditional cultures. No
matter how one reads the colonial
experiences of African societies,
the challenge for postcolonial
discourse is in analysing why and
how and what followed? We are
faced with the task of examining
the character of the traditional
system, and the effects of the
European encounter. We are also
compelled to interrogate the writers,
ethnographers, anthropologists, etc.
to see if they represented this social
history in a way that leaves empty
spaces – missing out local voices
and opinions.
In the study of traditional Africa,
it is unfortunate that those who
know are not able to make their
case. Others speak for them
through secondary sources,
resulting in misrepresentations and
appropriations. The example of
Nnobi shows that traditional social
systems present multiple myths,
narratives and structures; they have
practices of pluralism, diversity and
opposition. Socio-cultural claims
and propositional statements are
certainly contested, and form part
of traditional African philosophies,
discourse, action and reaction,
oppositional models and local
traditional activism. Authenticity
also means the opposite of empty
spaces; it means reconnections
and an affirmation of a shared
culture or a shared struggle against
oppression. Traditional peoples and
their elders are not ignorant; people
are not just subservient followers of
custom. The assumption that they
are results in a misrepresentation
of the character of society in Africa
before the colonial encounter, thus
a hierarchical dichotomisation of
pre-colonial ‘tradition’ and postcolonial
‘modernity’.
The traditional can be dynamic
and juxtaposed with other newer
forms, with society progressively
and creatively moving backward
and forward in spite of mixes
and hybridization. It is therefore
important to give recognition
to local voices and indigenous
activism, especially on the question
of gender and social justice.
Notes
1.The argument for a social text and the
topic of ‘faith interruptus’ are developed in
two consecutive essays, ‘Restoring Voice to
Text – Ideyi and My Own Father’s House’
in a collection of essays in Aboriginal
Voices to be published in the Social Text
journal. It is in fact an abstraction from
another paper, ‘Faith Interruptus and
the Politics of Religion and Culture in
African Post-colonial Discourse’ that I had
presented at a colloquium on ‘Religion and
Postcolonial Criticism’, by the Center for
the Study of Religion and the Department of
English at Princeton University, New Jersey,
USA, March 10-11, 2006.
2. In this essay, I use Dad and Ideyi
interchangeably.
3. I. Amadiume 1987. Male Daughters,
Female Husbands; Gender and Sex in an
African Society, London: Zed Books & St.
Martin’s Press.
4. I. Amadiume, 2002. ‘Subverting
Greed: African Perspectives on Religious
Conscience and the Global Economy’, in
Paul Knitter and Chandra Muzaffar (eds),
Subverting Greed: Religious Conscience
and the Global Economy, Maryknoll, New
York: Orbis Books, pp. 15-37.
5. K. A. Appiah, 1992. In My Father’s
House: Africa in the Philosophy of Culture,
New York, Oxford: Oxford University
Press.
6. Amadiume 1987.
7. Amadiume 1987, p.99.
8. Amadiume 1987, p.101.
Ifi Amadiume is Professor of Religion and African and African-American Studies at Dartmouth College, USA.
Her books include Male Daughters, Female Husbands (1987, Zed Books), Daughters of the Goddess, Daughters
of Imperialism: African Women, Culture, Power and Democracy. (2000, Zed Books) and three award-winning
volumes of poetry.
9. Amadiume 1987, p.100.
10. Amadiume 1987, p.29.
11. Amadiume 1987, p.54.
12. Amadiume, 1987, p.110.
13. Amadiume 1987, p.104.
14. Amadiume 1987, p.102.
15. Amadiume, 1987, p.101.
16. I. Amadiume 2000. Daughters of the
Goddess, Daughters of Imperialism: African
Women, Culture, Power and Democracy.
London, New York: Zed Books and St.
Martin’s Press.
17. I. Amadiume 2007. ‘Dual-Sex Political
Systems’ in Bonnie G. Smith (ed.).
Encyclopedia of Women in World History.
Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press.
Stumps of cut down trees in Ichiabia shrine.
IfiAmadiume
54 Radical Anthropology
Review
by David Graeber
A review by Simon Wells
David Graeber, anarchist,
academic and anthropologist,
has used his skills to write up an
ethnography of direct action. His
case study is the 2001 protests at the
Summit of the Americas in Quebec
City. The book is divided into ten
chapters, the first half of the book
dealing with events building toward
the protests at Quebec City, the
second dealing with direct action
itself, power and the state, and the
overall meaning of anarchism.
Graeber describes his book as a
classic in the sense that, as Franz
Boas puts it, the general is in the
service of the particular. What he
means is that the words in print
are not there to make a theoretical
point but to describe the actions of
the anarchists who are creating an
alternative narrative. This echoes
the consensus decision-making
processes of anarchism as compared
to majoritarian politics. As Graeber
says, ‘in consensus, you’re trying
to come up with a compromise,
or synthesis, so the incentive is to
always look for the best or smartest
part of other people’s arguments’
(p. 305). Further, anarchism fits the
purpose of ethnography, as it teases
‘out the implicit logic in a way of
life along with its related myths and
rituals, to grasp the sense of a set of
practices’ (p. 222). This is because
anarchism ‘is a way of living, or at
least, a set of practices’ (p. 215).
The period of the ethnographic
study is perhaps unique for
activists. It followed the collapse
of ‘Communism’, when capitalism
put its foot to the floor and assumed
it could bring about the End of
History, as Francis Fukuyama put
it. However, activists had other
ideas when they dreamed that
another world was possible. The
reader is plunged immediately
into the meetings and travails
of the New York City Ya Basta!
Collective and the Direct Action
Network as it makes its way to the
heated battles with the Canadian
state machinery in Quebec City. On
the way we learn that the activist
is kitted out in a black hoodie,
a black bandana, military pants
over thermal underwear, cashmere
sweaters and a formal shirt. Not that
this would have provided protection
when ‘Tear gas canisters started
bouncing, spinning, exploding all
around us’ from a ‘faceless line of
police, all in gas masks and battle
armor’ (pp.153, 154). There was
only going to be one winner in this
particular battle. But battles don’t
always win wars.
From the perspective of nonanarchists,
all of this action may
appear futile. Graeber quotes EvansPritchard
about Zande witchcraft:
‘how can otherwise reasonable
people claim to believe this sort
of thing?’ (p. 218). However, he
answers this by showing the
practical problems of creating a
new society in the shell of the old.
He shows that the ‘coercive force
of the state’ (p. 282) is everywhere
limiting human possibilities with
the threat of violence, because it has
the power to maintain the monopoly
over the use of force. So of course
it leaves ‘people with the feeling
that radical politics is unrealistic’
(p. 284). But Graeber summarises
Marx who ‘never ceased to insist
that what makes human beings
different from animals is that they
can first imagine something, and
then try to bring it into being’
(p. 514). With the force of state
violence, the anarchist world is
therefore in a state of construction
and destruction. And even among
co-radicals of marxist persuasion,
the threat of bureaucratic violence
is not far away. For example, we
learn that all the anthropologists
of a British left-wing group were
purged because they did not agree
with the party line that humans
had only really become human in
the neolithic. Graeber cannot be
sure of this story, but this actually
happened to members of the
Radical Anthropology Group. I can
confirm it is true – if not purged
then silenced.
It is understandable why the book
runs to 568 pages, and it can
appear daunting to read through
the descriptions of meetings, just
as some of the activists I am sure
felt they were tedious. But it’s a
rewarding book that puts together
the recent history of activism and
also acts as a guide for activists
in creating another world that is
morally transparent, democratic
and unselfconscious as Graeber’s
study of the rural communities
of Madagascar showed. For me a
lesson to take from this book is
that if you are pursuing your own
agenda then you are not practicing
solidarity.
Direct Action: an ethnography, by
David Graeber, AK Press, 2009, pp.568.
Simon Wells is an activist
and student of anthropology
at University of East London.
AmeliaGregory
Black bloc ready for action
55 Radical Anthropology
Review
L. Meyer and B.Alvarado (eds)
A review by Davide Torri
Subscriptions:
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Latest issue £3 	 Five current issues £10
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Send a cheque made payable to ‘Radical Anthropology Group’ to:
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The journal is also available free via our website:
www.radicalanthropologygroup.org
Indigenous communities are
imagining a different path to
progress, autonomy and selfgovernance.
All over the world, they
are facing cultural annihilation and
a new wave of oppression, often at
the hands of the same post-colonial
entities who were facing colonial
exploitation just a few generations ago.
NewWorldofIndigenousResistance
explores the meaning of indigenous
unrest at the beginning of the 21st
Century. This is done through long
interviews with Noam Chomsky
and the answers he received from a
wide selection of American Voices,
often speaking directly from the
field.
The starting point is the Oaxaca
Movement, in Mexico: in 2004 an
indigenous movement broke out,
requesting dignity and equal rights
for the population. An innovative
educational project was launched,
based on the links between
scholarisation, language(s) and
communities. The Mexican stateformation
process was leaving
behind indigenous communities,
and scholarisation was, under a
veneer of modernisation, just a way
to homogenise them into an obedient
class of low-waged workforce. At
the same time, it was destroying
local cultures and communities.
In a couple of years, in 2006,
the movement was so strong and
diffused that it was able to seize
the power for seven months. During
that time, Oaxaca was administered
through the Popular Assembly
of the People of Oaxaca (APPO,
Asamblea Popular de los Pueblos
de Oaxaca). Conflict with the State
was inevitable, and bloody: Oaxaca
Popular Assembly was defeated and
many people were killed.
The book revolves around the
concept of comunalidad as a new
category of thought in the dialectic
of power between State and Society.
An indigenous category, elaborated
through the practice of conflict
and resistance against Statepromoted
initiatives: ‘Indigenous
Comunalidad reaches far beyond
Western ideas of cooperation,
collectivization, or social concern
for the other, addressing the
philosophical, moral, even spiritual
question: what, or who, is the
very ground of existence, both
human and cosmic?’ (p. 23). For
the indigenous communities, on a
deeper ontological level, the land
does not belong to those who work
it. This could appear like a great gap
between the Indigenist and Marxist
thought, but, as Chomsky points out
quoting Rosa Luxemburg: ‘we are
never going to have socialism until
there is a spiritual transformation
among the population to recognise
a different array of values’ (p. 353).
The school is another battlefield
for the Indigenist movement,
and an ambiguous one: as one
commentator says, in Bolivia
during the first half of the twentieth
century the movements fought for
access to scholarisation and access
to the Spanish language; then, in
the second half, for the equally
important preservation of their own
languages. Several commentators
deal with the state-controlled
and organised school system as
an instrument of oppression used
against marginal communities.
But they also recognise the
progressive role a local-centered
and administered school could
have: the use of local idioms and
knowledges together with the usual
school subjects will produce a
conducive environment for the new
generations.
The book explores also the
implication of NAFTA agreements,
and the alternatives brought forth by
the Zapatistas, Via Campesina and
the leftist governments of Brasil,
Venezuela, Bolivia. The book is
intended as an ongoing conversation
offering a vision of indigenous
resistance, survival and possibly a
new hope for the future.
New World of Indigenous Resistance.
Noam Chomsky and Voices from North,
South and Central America. Edited by
Louis Meyer and Benjamin Maldonado
Alvarado, City Lights Books, 2010, pp. 416.
Dr Davide Torri is Visiting
Lecturer in the Department
of Theology and Religious
Studies, University of Chester
Email d.torri@chester.ac.uk
56 Radical Anthropology